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jedisupernova · 16 days ago

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compress, repress (part iii) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary betrayal is irreversible. secrets, in theory, can be kept. but not when cowardice gets in the way.

notes minors dni contains challengers au (for my girls who know: the churro scene, inclusion of 'i told ya' shirt,) fem reader, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the mid 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), everyone is a college senior, tennisplayer!jiyong and tennisplayer!seunghyun; reader is head of debate team, smut (oral f receiving, p in v, whimpering, sub!seunghyun, pathetic behavior, nipple play, squirting,) angst (all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, infidelity, inferiority complex, keeping secrets, severed friendships, deception, greed, lying, yearning, arguments and fights, accidental injury, seunghyun is a shit-stirrer, selfishness, possessiveness, insecurity; this is just messy as fuck,) i don't know anything about professional sports so pls don't laugh at me, if you went to stanford and are reading this no you're not, and inevitable typos though some are intentional.

author's note welcome to part iii of my challengers au!!!! shit is about go Down fr. a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read the previous parts (linked below) or else you will very confused! this is about the same length as part ii (long as fuck) so get comfy. please lmk what you think!! my ask box is always open :) see you next friday for the fourth and final part 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

were you an overthinker? sure. well . . . it is your most viable asset on the debate stage. sifting through someone’s argument as it actively deflates their lungs, plugging it through various filters and equations in your head—the result being a reliably succinct, a-through-z rebuttal in a matter of a minute. but when alone, and on the train home no less? it's like a parasite, gnawing away at your last bits of logic. you didn’t necessarily regret what you did, but the question of what do i do now? stuck out like a sore thumb, distracting you from scenic views of the distant beaches, houses you’ll never be able to afford, and expansive forests. upon arriving home, you figured you would use winter break as time to not only decompress, but figure things out. piece by piece, day by day—in the solace of your bedroom, in the mundaneness of doing laundry and unpredictable preparing for the holidays—away from stanford. you answered jiyong’s texts with no issues, skirting around your complex feelings with a quick I miss you too ji baby and Gtg shop 4 xmas dinner. calls were trickier, though. it would cause suspicion if you weren’t available to talk whatsoever, so you took one for the team from time to time. the fact you thought of it that way told you everything you needed to know.

much to his fortune, seunghyun figured it out, too. “how’s the missus?” he asked jiyong, eyes casted on perfecting his spoonful of macaroni and cheese, bringing it to his mouth afterward. his tone was casual and unassuming—perfect for christmas dinner at the kwon household, but also amongst two friends just checking in on one another. seunghyun turned his head, hearing their parents banter in the kitchen. jiyong got comfortable next to him on the couch, fingers tugging at the bunched-up hem of his sweater, other hand holding his water. “everything good with you two?” seunghyun’s word choice was diabolical, considering he was nose deep in your pussy a week and same change ago, and he tugged his dick to the memory of it just as santa claus descended down his chimney. “yeah, we’re good.” said jiyong, “we haven’t talked that much lately, though. she’s been busy with, y'know, her family.” seunghyun nodded, listening. ghosts of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, thinking of how you and him were on the phone just before he got there, and every night since exams ended, too. “makes sense.” said seunghyun. “it is the holiday season, after all.”

“how was dinner, hm?” you asked, lifting your shoulder to keep the house phone to your ear, folding your outfit away from your family dinner. it was around an hour after either of you returned home. seunghyun laid comfortably in his bed, “really good.” he ran his fingers through his hair, arm relaxing behind his head. “food was fuckin’ amazing. how about you, baby?” “mine was good, too.” you closed your closet door, able to hold the phone with your hand now. you sat on the edge of your bed, a sigh escaping your lips, “a little chaotic, but you know how that goes.” he chuckled, nodding. “i do. jiyong told me something real curious, though.” “he did?” “mhm,” seunghyun cleared his throat. “he said you guys haven’t talked in, like, three days? i thought you went to your aunt’s for christmas.” your face warmed, “i mean, i did go there.” “well,” seunghyun’s tone was smooth and playful, smile heard through the phone. “i’m obviously missing a piece of the story, baby. because we’ve been talking for three days straight. what’d you tell him?” “i told him she lives across state lines, meaning a multiple-day road trip with choppy cell service.” “right.” “well, he probably thinks i’m still on the road.” “does your aunt live far?” “she lives four blocks down. walking distance if i’m up for it.”

you heard him snicker. “am i the worst person in the world?” “not worse than me.” he countered, adjusting his grip on his blackberry. “i mean . . . i was the one that asked him about you. i called you 'the missus’ and everything.” an amused scoff left your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose, hiding your smile behind your hand. “we’re horrible people.” “once you accept that, it sets you free.” he told you, a hearty laugh ringing from his chest. he heard your bed creak, your soft and satisfied hmph after settling your head into your pillow molding his lips into an upside down grin. “i miss you, y'know.” he spoke gently. “i can’t wait to see you again.” you smiled sheepishly to yourself, grateful he wasn’t able to see you at that moment. “i miss you too, seunghyun.” “y'know,” his voice brought you back to him. “it was hard for me to keep quiet last night—” “—we are not doing this on my parents’ landline.” you cut him off with a brisk laugh, though your toes curled around nothing atop your duvet.

seunghyun took his phone away from his ear. he rolled the trackball, lighting his screen, seeing it was half past midnight. “it's late enough. they’re probably asleep.” he said, turning onto his side. “plus, it's not my fault you don’t have enough minutes to talk on your cell.” “and it's not my fault you wanna be all whiny about it.” you countered, chuckling. “its serves you right to be told 'no,’ too.” “i like it when it's you.” “i know you do.” something in you knew seunghyun was still in his mood. with how he was getting you there, too, you checked to see if the small screen on the house phone read Conf.—indicating someone was listening to the call. you let out a small breath of relief, reading Talk with the duration of the call underneath—the coast was clear. “y'know,” here he goes, your inner monologue said. “it's a shame we’re apart for so long 'cause i’m forgetting how you taste. might need to go in a second time. or a third. or a fourth. maybe a fifth.” “maybe? just maybe?” you asked, voice smooth. “you were really greedy in your car.” he kissed his teeth, fingers toying with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “nah, baby.” he kissed his teeth. “i wasn’t greedy enough.”

you let out a sweet laugh, turning to lay on your back. “noted.” you said. “i’ll clear my schedule.” “you better.” he smiled. “i gotta a lot of time to make up for.” comfortable silence washed over the line, landing you somewhere you knew you would get to eventually. “i’m breaking up with jiyong when we get back from break.” you told seunghyun, hearing his hum of acknowledgment. “do you think he’ll take it well?” “yeah.” he answered earnestly, nodding though you couldn’t see him. “maybe not initially. but he’ll be okay.” “what was his last break-up like? if you remember.” “i do.” said seunghyun. “he took it out on the court and didn’t talk about it again. i can’t blame him. things don’t really work out in his favor sometimes.” your chest sunk, hiding your face behind your palm in shame. “this is going to suck so bad.” “its better than stringing him along and fucking his best friend on the side.” “i know but i already—” you cut yourself off with a sharp tsk. cheated on him, your inner monologue finished for you. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, though seunghyun felt it nonetheless.

“whatever. forget it,” you brushed it off. “what does this mean for us then, hm? don’t make me feel stupid for asking this.” “i would never.” seunghyun shook his head, honest. a smile brightened his features, “i mean . . .” his voice trailed sheepishly, “i thought you already knew.” “i don’t feel like solving one of your riddles right now, seunghyun.” he was quick to clarify, smiling real damn hard now: “like you said in the car, i have a really big crush on you. i hope you have one on me, too.” “we’re seriously doing confessions after you fucked the shit out of me?” “we did it before!” he exclaimed louder than he intended to, face warm and cheeks hurting from his smile. “b-before we—” “—i know, i know.” you chuckled. “i’m just messing with you.”

“do you have a crush on me, though?” “to think,” you tutted playfully. “you’re the same person who talked to me like he takes his third leg on daily walks when we first met.” seunghyun buried his face into his pillow, “just answer the question, baby.” “of course i do. who wouldn’t?” you said. “it means more coming from you.” your heart warmed, “i know it does.” you continued, “you know we can’t tell him, right? at least not yet.” seunghyun’s eyebrows fluttered in and out of a furrow, “so we have to sneak around? in case mommy and daddy catch us?” “i mean, do you want to tell him?” you challenged, met with anticipated silence. “i thought so. let me figure it out.” “okay, okay.” he couldn’t fight his yawn—how long he’d been up for the holiday catching up to him. “i trust you, baby. i’d take it to my grave if you told me to. i feel you reconfiguring my moral compass as we speak.” “i guess that’s just what good pussy does.” “you said it, not me. but you’re more than that, though.” “oh, i forgot—you’re a card-carrying feminist.” “proudly.”

jiyong’s smile didn’t make it easier. he was over the moon to see your beautiful self again, walking into your dorm. his kiss made it all the more apparent: “hey baby,” his tone was so doting it stirred guilt-induced nausea in your chest, feeling his fingers find yours. he pulled you into him, you inhaled sharply through your nostrils, sudden surprise hidden well by his lips molding against yours—remembering right, that’s how boyfriends greet their girlfriends. you tried to distract yourself, kissing him back in a way that earned his hands rubbing your lower back soothingly, humming in satisfaction once his arms made residence around your waist. “how’ve you been, hm?” he asked. “i’ve been good.” “yeah? c'mere.” jiyong re-connected the kiss slowly, nudging his nose against yours sweetly, savoring the moment. your hands traveled up his chest, his head tilting to the left once your palms found either side of his neck, kissing you deeper. despite the bitter voice in his head telling him he was inadequate in other places, nothing held the power to deny him that he knew what the fuck to do with that mouth of his.

he gently parted his lips from yours, doting on your cheek next. you had to stop yourself from leaning back in, compensating by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pulling one another into a warm embrace. “i missed you so much. i wish we could’ve spent new year’s together, at least.” “i know, jiyongie.” your fingers combed through his hair, “i missed you too.” “how was the train back?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your soft jawline. “i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever.” “since last year.” you joked, feeling the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck. “since last year.” jiyong affirmed. though it was only the first week of the spring semester—and both yours and jiyong’s final one at stanford—it didn’t mean either of your schedules let up. though coursework hadn’t intensified yet; senior theses were due in a few months time, the collegiate tennis season was kicking into high gear in the coming weeks, and prep for the national debate tournament before spring break was in full-force. not to mention, both you and jiyong had respective practices tonight, too. it never ends.

“the train was okay.” you told him, feeling him hum against you, a sweet kiss left in his path. “long, though. but nice. how about your flight? any turbulence like last time?” “thankfully, no.” jiyong lifted his head, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your nose, eyes meeting yours. “well, i mean—seunghyun and i just slept the entire time. so if it happened, i’d have no idea.” you hated how the mere mention of his name made you panic. “really?” your eyebrows raised as if jiyong’s anecdote was an earth-shattering revelation. “it's tough for me to sleep on transit like that. you’re lucky.” jiyong shrugged his shoulders, oblivious. “i guess growing up traveling for games helped out.” jiyong spent the latter part of your shared afternoon like it was any other day: running his thumb over the back of your hand, telling you what he did over break, and peppering sweet kisses on your temple when you were talking. you, on the other hand, were working against an invisible timer. everything you practiced to say, everything you thought of faded closer to your periphery every time his eyes twinkled in your direction—the same way they’ve always done since you first met. it didn’t feel good, knowing how he’d leave your dorm differently than when he came . . . but it’d be worse if it was way farther down the line, your inner monologue reasoned, it's the least i can do for him. i’ve done enough, already.

jiyong’s face fell. “wh—what?” his voice went quiet. “i-i thought . . . i thought things were going good between us?” “it's just that—i just don’t think i see myself being in a relationship right now. like, i’m just not in the headspace for it.” “is there anything i can do to help?” he rested his hand atop yours, a ghost of a grip on your fingers. “i—i can back off,” he nodded, hoping this was the answer. “give you space.” “i don’t think that’s going to work, jiyong.” your tone was apologetic, sincere—only for him to hear. your hand left his, fingers fixing his hair before your palm settled onto his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone dotingly. “i’m sorry.” you whispered. his shuddered breath of defeat wasn’t for the weak. he turned to your touch, trying to hide his face. “it wouldn’t be right to string you along.” you told him, voice gentle. “not with all the love you have to give.” he sniffled, holding his tears in. perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly, or this was the clearest his brain has ever been—he leaned in, but you didn’t lean away. jiyong kissed you as softly as his unspoken plea. what was he asking for? he didn’t know. forgiveness? if so, then for what? not knowing you didn’t want to be in a relationship when you smiled in a way that made him want to topple empires for you? pity? perhaps it was that, considering how he didn’t hesitate to prod your tongue with his once your hand found the back of his neck—jiyong deepening the kiss.

“please.” he whispered meekly against your lips. “i’ll do anything.” once you felt his hand on your thigh, you took your lips away—pulling out the hard stops, reminding yourself why you invited him over in the first place. “that’s enough.” you spoke definitively. jiyong’s forehead fell against your temple. you kept your composure, “its over, jiyong.” you couldn’t give him another way in, turning your body to face forward, leaving him contactless next to you. you shouldn't have reached to fix his hair, but you and jiyong were over and done with now for sure—especially if you were the one cementing it into place. jiyong was beside himself, “what do i keep doing wrong?” he thought aloud. “i can’t speak for the other people you’ve dated.” you said. “the one’ll find you. its just not me.” jiyong scoffed, albeit weakly: “that’s what you think,” he said. “you haven’t even asked me when i think.” you took him up on his point, looking at him. “okay, then. what do you think?” “that i’m a nice guy who doesn’t deserve shit not working out.” he grumbled bitterly, eyes casted on your duvet. an angry tear fell through the cracks, his fingers hastily wiping it away. there it is. one of the nails in the coffin, you thought to yourself. “and i told you i love you.” “over text.” you clarified, hoping he would see your point. he didn’t: “yeah, but i told you.”

you kept your stance, not in the mood for any additional whining: “you need to be a lot more secure in yourself, jiyong. you have so much going for you, don’t waste your time making yourself the enemy.” you said. “it’ll work out one day. it just happened to not be with me.” he fell silent. you saw his eyes become glossier than before, “we can stay friends if you want.” your apologetic tone returned, though you meant your words. “i do, if it makes you feel any better. we should stay friends.” you corrected yourself. jiyong lifted his head, looking into your eyes. his hurt was palpable, “i don’t think i can stay just friends with you.” he said. your expression faltered slightly. a sympathetic grin graced your features, looking at him in a way that felt like he was the only man in the world. “you need to try.” you told him. “for me.” it took jiyong a moment, but he put his pride aside. he nodded, inhaling through his nostrils, blinking away his stubborn tears. “i will.” he spoke with conviction. “you know i’d do anything for you, right?” “i do,” you looked into his eyes. “that’s the best thing about you, jiyong.” one look at his best friend and seunghyun knew you’d done it. since the universe had a crude sense of humor, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, too: Debate ends at nine. Come over after? he wrote back quickly, putting his phone away after jiyong set his duffle bag down: yeds.

jiyong was quiet. he mumbled something under his breath whilst doing his stretches, inhaling sharply through his nostrils after retrieving his racket from its case. tuning out their teammates dispersed throughout the athletic center’s indoor courts, seunghyun performed his service motion—thwwacckk!—effectively starting jiyong’s round of drills, as they have historically always started with him. the first set focused on his back and forehand swings, hitting the ball back to seunghyun without issue throughout those twenty shots. his recovery step was steady as he ran side to side, zeroed in like he was trying to distract himself from something—which he was. for seunghyun’s turn, jiyong served the ball with such unexpected strength that he had to skirt off to the side, dodging it. he gave jiyong a look: “dude?” “my bad.” jiyong muttered, going to grab another ball without a second thought. “if you’re gonna kill me, might as well tell me why.” seunghyun joked, hoping to lighten the mood. he walked up to the net, beckoning jiyong over with a subtle wave of his hand.

“y'know you can talk to me, ji.” “i know i can, seunghyun.” “it’ll be a waste of practice if you’re pent up like that.” “i know!” jiyong snapped. “okay? i know that. you don’t need to remind me like i’m someone’s dumbass kid.” seunghyun didn’t flinch. he gave jiyong space to breath, to pace around with his hands on his hips—a parallel to their routine bickering growing up; a testament to their respective knowledge of one another’s ticks. though seunghyun knew why jiyong was upset, he had to ask. after all, it was the brotherly thing to do. “talk to me, ji.” jiyong came to a halt, looking up. “we broke up. okay? that’s what happened.” seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed—in another life, i’d make a good actor—“what? why? i thought things were going okay with you guys?” “that’s what i said.” jiyong shook his head. “but i guess not.” “what’d she say?” seunghyun kept his tone casual. “y'know, when she—” “—she said she couldn’t see herself in a relationship right now.”

seunghyun’s face warmed, “oh.” he nodded. he quickly ran his hand over his face, effectively stifling his amused grin. she and i really aren’t much different after all—“whatever that means. right?” “no, it makes sense.” jiyong countered. “even if i don’t agree with it, i’ve got no choice but to respect it.” “you’ll find someone better, anyway.” “i don’t know about that, man.” with that, jiyong returned to his side of the court without saying another word—his serve much less intense this time, but still holding a hefty bite. he didn’t mention it again, giving seunghyun a polite nod of thanks before heading to the showers after practice ended. the sight of his best friend looking in his eyes flashed before him prior to you opening your door, but it wasn’t strong enough to stop seunghyun from walking inside, and with a smile no less.

he slipped the condom on, tossing the wrapper into the small trash bin lodged beside your desk. you laid on your stomach in your bed—so naturally pretty, but more importantly comfortable—ass over the edge of your bed, feet on the floor; arms crossed on the duvet, your temple resting on your wrists. a long exhale of satisfaction left your nostrils, feeling seunghyun knead either of your beautiful—fucking gorgeous globes. his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, relishing over how his hands—as big as they already were—just barely were able to hold them. he tapped your right one lightly, a sound of approval leaving through his teeth at how your skin recoiled. you weren’t having it: “i know you can do better than that.” he smacked harder, hearing your gasp. you failed to bite back your pleased smile, “that’s more like it.” you giggled sweetly. his hands pushed your shirt up, palms dotingly rubbing your lower back, tenderly cascading over your rolls—carefully watching his fingers run over your stretch marks. he took his sweet time. he hasn’t seen your entire body yet, but he felt lucky from the proximity alone. to think that sculpting was invented to immortalize bodies like hers, he wasn’t sure if he remembered that fact from the art history gen-ed he took his freshman year correctly. but as far as he was concerned, it was the whole truth and nothing but. shit, i’d go to war for and build temples for her, too . . .

“i can still smell ji’s cologne in here, yknow.” “yeah?” “yeah,” seunghyun leaned down. he nudged his nose against your temple, wordlessly asking for you to turn your head towards him; another silent plea in his chaste kiss. you obliged, feeling his lips linger before kissing yours. his breath was warm against your pores, “needed me that badly, huh?” “don’t get too proud.” you said casually. you backed up an inch, hearing his breath hitch, your ass pushing against him. “f-fuck…” he sputtered, tightening his grip on your hips. “you forget how to spell words when you get all excited.” you referred to his typo from earlier. you felt and heard seunghyun chuckle into the back of your neck, coinciding with your sweet laughter. “i think i still have his hat.” you thought aloud. “for real?” said seunghyun. “mhm.” you hummed. “in the closet, maybe. on the top shelf?” seunghyun walked to the other side of your dorm, pulling the doors of your closet open. he peered up at the top shelf, smirking upon spotting the stanford tennis baseball cap lodged on top of a folded sweater.

you heard him walk back, though you didn’t feel him return behind you. you looked over your shoulder, “where did you—oh.” seunghyun was stood in front of the mirror mounted above your dresser, adjusting the cap to sit backwards on his head. “you’re horrible.” “you’re not telling me to take it off, though.” he pointed out coolly. you were stubborn, “you’re still horrible.” “you are, too.” he countered. his body warmth returned behind you, palms fondling either side of your lush waist. he leaned down to your ear, “'cause you don’t want me to talk it off, right?” it was quiet, but he heard your breath shake. “you’ve made me an honest man, so i’ll tell you that i don’t wanna take it off. is that okay with you? yeah, baby?” “yes.” you swallowed, eyes fluttering closed, mindlessly pushing your temple against his mouth. seunghyun obliged, pressing a kiss. “better fuck me like you deserve it, though.” you told him lowly. seunghyun smacked your left globe hard and unabashed, earning a hum of approval from you. “i will.” he said. he held the base of his cock, pushing his tip between your puffy lips. “you better tell me if something’s wrong.” “you’re always so self-referential.” you giggled—quickly humbled by his slow, yet delectable stretching of you out.

you spread your feet apart, allotting additional room for him, but also for you to settle in more comfortably. seunghyun caught on, “that—that better for you?” he asked, licking his lips, trying to keep his senses tangible through your gummy walls gradually swallowing him. he heard you hum in response, “push my back down. just a little,” he listened diligently, palm pressing your lower back. “maybe he can get you deeper—a-ah!” you gasped sharply. seunghyun was entirely inside, and in fact, deeper. he was completely still, trying to catch his own breath. your moan wasn’t helping. “o-oh fuck!” you whimpered in utmost satisfaction. your muscles relaxed yet you couldn't—your unsolicited wriggling sending fragmented words to his throat, resulting in a wince turned cough. “this is j-just what i—fuck!—this is just what i fucking needed, holy shit.” you bit your bottom lip, sitting up on your elbows. you turned your head, eyes peering at him in your periphery. “this alone would’ve made you a m-mom if it weren’t for the c-condom—sh-shit. . .” his licked his lips, eyebrows furrowed whilst his throat deflated into an impaired, withering whimper. “can i move? fuck, h-how are you so—” “y-yeah—yes.”

seunghyun was fighting for his life. his grip on your hips and sound of his pelvis clapping against your ass would argue otherwise—but the look on his face? with every thrust, his mouth fell more stupidly; head cocked back, visor of the baseball cap rubbing against his neck. his rhythm was consistent—purposefully egged on by your cries of pleasure and breathy encouragements, albeit fragmented from just how fucking good he was fucking you. “this is—this is j-just what i needed, s-seunghyun—ngh!” you never thought in a million years your voice could reach the pitch it just did. but with seunghyun in the picture, it felt as if anything was possible at this point. you bit your lip, taking whatever he gave you with warm welcome, not complaining whatsoever over being spoiled rotten—like you fucking deserve. “o-oh fuck!” was all he was able to conjure, slowly looking down at the scene before him. his eyebrows furrowed, breathing through his mouth, face contorting into one of pathetic sin.

his hips were relentless and strong; the athleticism on full display—watching and feeling your cheeks bounce like water in his palms. “oh fuck!” he prolonged his syllables, voice cracking. “oh f-fuck, baby—” he stopped to re-adjust himself, widening his stance to swiftly lean down to your temple, resuming his intoxicating pace soon after. you gasped, hand instinctively going into his hair, knocking the hat off his head and onto the duvet, keeping him close to you. he kissed the end of your cheekbone, lips staying there whilst he fucked you in the way you liked. “y-you’re so fucking deep,” you told him. your lips parted, eyebrows furrowed deeply and eyes squeezed shut, “feels so fucking g-good.” “oh yeah? am i?” his voice was low. the shakiness in his tone was telling, “do you—o-oh fuck yeah!” he cried out vulnerably, hips stuttering when you clenched around him. he thrusted back in hard, gifting him your relaxed posture and shaky hum of approval—melting into your libido. seunghyun leaned forward some more, hoping his next move wouldn’t strain your neck. “come here,” he pleaded. his hand came to your cheek, turning your head, meeting his lips with ease. he kept your lips together as he pounded into you again, internalizing the sound of your voice breaking against his. at some point, you couldn’t retain focus anymore: “oh f-fuck!” you cried out. “just like that seunghyunnie, just like that—” your wall-shattering gasp startled your hallmate walking past your door, laundry basket in hand, sheepishly scurrying away upon realizing you weren’t in danger whatsoever.

january and february went by faster than expected. it was the rhythmic hustle: wake up, go to class, bury your head in either your laptop screen and lined notebook paper, sleep—repeat. your senior thesis was coming along well, preparation for the national debate tournament in san francisco was steady, and you and seunghyun were practically undetectable. on days where your respective schedules aligned, he set up shop on the carpet beside your bed, solving equations and whatever the fuck for his coursework with nothing but grid notebook paper and his mechanical pencil like it was nobody’s business. perhaps it was adaptability on the tennis court manifesting in other areas of his life, because he was able to study coherently just about anywhere. the only non-negotiable was his ipod nano his parents got him for christmas—wired headphones playing either frank sinatra or wu-tang clan; there never was an in-between, mostly. he got up after a few hours, stretching his arms generously over his head. he took the two strides to your desk, gently ushering you out of your concentrative bubble with a hand on your shoulder, dotingly rubbing down your back when you turned to him with a quiet “hm?” “m'getting panera for dinner.” he said. he leaned down, lips finding your temple before your cheek. “what do you want, hm? you need to take a break.”

when you were over at seunghyun’s apartment, he cleared his desk for you in his bedroom. if he didn’t have a roommate, he would’ve made a key for you to come and go as you please. you lodged there for however long you needed: writing your senior thesis, tweaking outlines of affirmative and negative arguments written by your teammates, answering emails—anything. seunghyun learned the pacing of your schedule relatively quickly, often manifesting in keeping track of the time for you. you were twelve pages deep in an assigned reading, keen on starting its accompanying assignment after the debate meeting this evening. seunghyun returned from the kitchen, knocking on his open bedroom door, “baby?” you looked up from your highlighter. “it’s 6:45. you’ll be late if we don’t leave now.” “shit, really? okay, give me a minute.” you stood from his desk chair, packing your laptop and other materials up. when you slung the left backpack strap over your shoulder, you froze. “oh my god.” seunghyun’s face dropped a little, seeing the look on your face. he walked over, taking your backpack from you, carrying it himself. “what? is everything okay?” “i almost forgot.” you looked at him. “we start drills this weekend.” “drills?” “we—we sort ourselves into pairs,” you walked out of his bedroom, him following closely behind. “and we’re randomly assigned either the affirmative or negative for a case, and we debate each other.” you explained, pushing your feet into your shoes. “there's—there’s logistics involved. i was supposed to plan it today.”

seunghyun was quick to reassure: “it’s okay,” he unlocked the front door, ushering you to lead the way to the elevator. “you have time to do it tomorrow— even with your presentation for democratic theory.” he said before you could counter. “you can do it. i know you.” he opened the passenger’s door for you, safely tucking your backpack away in the backseat. he put his key into the ignition, backing out of his usual parking spot at his apartment complex, “the world doesn’t have shit on you, y'know.” as time went by, seunghyun wasn’t necessarily worried about your anticipated telling of jiyong. he wholeheartedly meant it when he said he trusted you completely—if i’m lucky to enough to be loved by the divine feminine herself, then i’m more than fortunate enough to trust her—and he’d rather pull his hair out one by one than be the one to tell him. on top of that, you didn’t give off the vibe of playing in his face. your stress-induced under eye bags from your workload said enough. after all, who was he to take initiative after the job’s already been taken? to his fortune, anyway, he was too busy being in love to give it much thought. he was willing to take your shared secrecy to the grave. call it delusion or devotion—he was serious. all he needed was your voice of reason to bicker with and your pussy to eat, and he’ll die a happy man.

though it was an impending eventuality, the messier side of seunghyun couldn’t help the question: does jiyong need to know? like, does he need to know that when he waved to jiyong as he did his warm-ups before practice, the reason why seunghyun was blinking so hard was because you sucked his dick so good he was trying to clear his vision even a half hour later? does jiyong need to know why seunghyun’s developed a habit of tugging at the hem of his shirt, because he so often fixes yours when the fabric bunches between the bottom of your back and top of your ass? or when he’s nervous—like before his singles game against ucla—he’s started pacing in the locker room, mentally reviewing his planned plays whilst mindlessly rubbing the tip of his ear, because that’s how you’ve lulled him to sleep before? and does he really need to know that when he invited jiyong over for dinner to catch up after a hectic start-of-the-semester apart, you were in the same chair as jiyong a couple nights ago, offering to settle a petty dispute over who got the last can of coca-cola through rock-paper-scissors? or how about twenty feet away in seunghyun’s bedroom, where he fingered your stress away that same night, telling you he loves you whilst you bless his hand with splashes of your divineness? nah, jiyong didn’t need to know shit . . .

much to your delightful surprise, you and jiyong remained friends. or were at least friendly. you saw him after picking up your bagel and iced coffee up at coho’s, unable to properly say hello as you woke up late that morning, allotting less than ten minutes to head to your democratic theory lecture a couple blocks down, but traded polite grins from across the café nonetheless. you ran into one another on your walk back to your residential building—a care package sent by your parents in your hands, having picked it up at your commons. the expected “how’ve you been?” was exchanged. the conversation was admittedly light, but when you felt the time pass, there was a bit more speed in your step after your amicable “have a good weekend,” because unbeknownst to jiyong, you were ten minutes late for meeting with seunghyun in his car to go out for dinner off campus. you quickly dropped the package off in your dorm, settling into the passenger’s seat with a huff, “sorry i’m late.” “you’re good.” said seunghyun, waving the remainder of cigarette smoke out of his open window. he reached down, spinning the crank to put the window up. “still have some time before our reservation, anyway. hey,” he beckoned. “c'mere.” you looked at him, realizing what he meant. “oh, right. sorry.” your hands held either side of his face. “hi.” you said, leaning in. “hi.” he repeated, an amused grin tugging at the corners of his lips. you closed the gap. seunghyun re-connected the kiss. from the breath of relief leaving your nostrils, he could tell it was needed.

“busy day?” “oh god—i don’t even wanna talk about it.” you shook your head. “to think, nationals in a month and a half.” you thought aloud. “and all the shit i have to do in-between and afterward.” “you’ll do it. i know you can.” “i will. but barely.” you countered. “but how about you? how was your day? did your thesis meeting with your professor go okay?” “way better than i expected. there’s not a whole bunch of edits to make, finally. for once, y'know?” said seunghyun, putting his car into drive. “really?” you put on your seatbelt. “thats wonderful, baby. i’m proud of you.” “thank you. m'proud of you, too.” he looked into the rearview mirror, spotting himself whilst backing out of the parking spot. once done, he glanced at you. “but you already knew that.” he smiled. “i know.” you grinned. “y'know i just saw jiyong? he was walking around here.” “really?” seunghyun merged into traffic, “what’s he around here for?” you shrugged your shoulders, “i don’t know. i mean, what’re you around here for?” you quipped, upside-down grin molding your lips at his playfully annoyed expression. “that’s different.” he said. “i know, i know.” you chuckled. you relaxed into your seat, looking out the windshield. “he looks like he’s doing okay.” you said. “can you attest to that?”

seunghyun nodded, his eyes on the road. “yeah.” he answered. “it doesn’t seem to, y'know, completely consume him anymore. then again, i don’t live with his brain. but still. he’s better than he was.” you hummed in acknowledgement, reading the license plates of the cars driving in front of you. “that’s good. i told him about nationals before spring break. he invited me to your match on sunday with ucla.” the car came to gradual halt, stopping at the red traffic light. “i’m guessing you said yes?” “i said i’d think about it.” you clarified, seunghyun nodding in your periphery. “but it's basically a yes.” he couldn’t help his smile, leaning his head against his seat. “you gonna wear his hat like last time?” you gave him a look, unable to hide your amusement. “look at you, stirring the pot. and what if i did?” “then i’ll have to gear up to be the best man at your guys’ wedding.” seunghyun laughed. he laughed harder when you kissed your teeth disapprovingly, “oh hell no. fuck that.” you ran your hand over your face, feeling the car move again. “but i’m coming. at two, right?” “mhm.” seunghyun confirmed. “it's about time you see your boyfriend play, anyway.” “my two boyfriends.” you muttered, grinning sweetly hearing his laughter. “yeah,” seunghyun smiled grandly, playing into the joke. “your two proud boyfriends.”

the world split into two in march 2006—one being you, lodged in a hotel room in san francisco for the weekend, going back and forth between your teammates’ rooms to review arguments and strategies before heading to the convention center where nationals were held; the other housing seunghyun and jiyong in an almost empty snack bar on campus, cheeks flushed after an intense doubles match against uc irvine. though it wasn’t unfamiliar, either of their bodies felt the weight of their intensified regiment—both seunghyun and jiyong having played grueling singles matches earlier in the week, with another scheduled right before spring break. seunghyun sat in front of the windows in the snack bar, staring at his phone in his lap: Good luck today baby I love you so much he read his text for the nth time, but not as much as your response: I love you too!! good luck w irvine:) Call u tonight muah. jiyong came over with churros in both hands, seeing seunghyun on his phone. he put it away casually before anything could be seen, though what jiyong asked gave him a slight heart attack: “meet someone new?” he handed seunghyun a churro, sitting down in the stool next to him. seunghyun accepted, turning around and placing his elbows on the table behind them. “what? oh. nah.” he shook his head. he took a bite of his churro, other hand wiping the sugar grains from the corner of his mouth. “just something about my study group this weekend.” “oh, yeah. you did mention your midterm earlier.” jiyong thought aloud, nodding.

they talked as they usually did. jiyong turned around, resting his elbows like seunghyun. it was when he reached up to scratch an itch on his eyebrow did his expression suddenly sour. “shit,” he cursed under his breath—a slight stinging sensation on his temple. “you good?” seunghyun asked. “yeah, i think—i think i got sunburned.” jiyong’s fingers gingerly felt his forehead. his skin was irritated, confirming his suspicions. seunghyun took a bite of his churro before leaning in to get a better look, “doesn’t look too red.” he observed. “did you put on enough sunblock?” “i did, but i guess the humidity fucked me over today.” said jiyong, hearing seunghyun hum in acknowledgement. “doesn’t feel too bad, though.” jiyong muttered. “aloe vera’ll fix it up. i need my hat back.” “back?” seunghyun knew damn well, but he would be remiss to not keep himself in the safe zone—though the memory of your cheeks clapping made him adjust his posture in his seat. “did you lose it? that shit was glued to your head, man.” he chuckled. jiyong finished his churro, dusting his hands off underneath the table. “i left it with her.” he spoke in-between chewing. “you think i could get it back?” “sure.” seunghyun nodded, a grin tugging at his mouth. “if you ask nicely, of course.”

jiyong tried to give seunghyun a look, but his smile betrayed him. “very funny. ha-ha.” he chuckled. jiyong felt leftover sugar on his hand, shoving seunghyun’s face with his palm. seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, carefully wiping his cheek after finishing his churro. “y'know,” jiyong started. “i’ve been thinking.” “uh-oh.” seunghyun quipped, smiling at jiyong’s tsk of annoyance. “shut up,” said jiyong. “but for real. y'know how we have our—our end of season banquet, right?” “right.” jiyong fell silent, suddenly overcome with sheepishness. “you’re gonna have to spit it out at some point, ji.” “i know, i know.” jiyong shook his head, trying to level himself. “its just that—” he sighed. “maybe this is just pathetic of me to say. but i was thinking of inviting her.” seunghyun didn’t question it. he wanted to know more. “like as a plus one?” “yeah. i think the registry’s still open.” jiyong responded so quickly it was as if he cut seunghyun off. he looked at him, worried. his next question cemented it: “that's weird, right?” “was it weird when she came to our game against ucla?” seunghyun asked. jiyong shook his head, “no.” he answered earnestly. “but i did spent the entire time wishing we were still together, though.” seunghyun smiled proudly, putting his arm around jiyong’s shoulders. “you fucking snake.” he said. “i didn’t know you had it in you.” this’ll be fun, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong was visibly confused, yet his half-smile contradicted himself. “what? have what in me?”

“it's exciting seeing you this way, ji.” said seunghyun. “and no, i don’t think its weird, personally.” “i’m not—” jiyong went to say something, but seunghyun talked over him—committed to the bit. “its what’s been missing from your tennis.” “what?” seunghyun’s arm returned to his side, “it's nice to see you lit-up about something. even if that something’s your ex-girlfriend. you said she wanted to be friends when you broke up, right?” after he shoved his tongue down his throat, she did seunghyun’s inner monologue reminded him, remembering your play-by-play of what went down. jiyong nodded, “yeah, she did. but i don’t know if this is too forward or something.” “nah, not at all.” seunghyun shook his head. he jutted his bottom lip—perhaps too animated—but with how jiyong looked genuinely concerned, he flew right under the radar. “you don’t think i’m crazy?” jiyong asked, vulnerable. seunghyun’s face dropped a little, recognizing the look in his best friend’s eyes. the lingering hurt—the yearning. jiyong wasn’t over you. it didn’t look like he would be anytime soon. seunghyun could only say so much, having to hold himself back from the protective jealousy stirring in his chest, choosing his words carefully: “it's not considered crazy to be in love, ji.” unbeknownst to jiyong, seunghyun speaking for himself: “it's not crazy to want someone, either.”

the tournament wasn’t a sweep though stanford placed highly nonetheless. you celebrated with dinner and drinks at the end of that long weekend—delightfully surprised after your teammates prepared a graduation gift for their president, along with sentimental speeches that might’ve (just might’ve) made your eyes misty with gratitude. you hid it well behind your margarita, anyway. you walked into your hotel room at half past eleven that sunday night. packing would be rushed in the morning before boarding the bus back to stanford—for now, you just needed the quiet. you kicked your loafers off, set your gift bag down by the television, sitting on the edge of your unmade hotel bed. you leaned to your right, raising your left thigh, fishing your sidekick out of the back pocket of your black dress trousers—too tired to change out of your debate garb just yet. it's not too late, you thought to yourself. seunghyun’s definitely still awake. you scrolled through your notifications, seeing a few texts here and there, eyebrows furrowing seeing a missed call from jiyong a couple hours ago. “huh?” there was a voicemail from him, too. you pressed play, bringing your phone to your ear.

you heard a bicycle bell, followed by the skid of his sneakers against the sidewalk. “hi! this is—uh, this is jiyong,” his pause told you he didn’t know why he said his name. “i hope you've—i hope you’ve been doing good. i wanted to call to wish you good luck at your debate comp. i saw a flyer about it at coho’s, but i wasn’t sure of the time. i hope i didn’t call you when you were on stage or something. that would be really bad,” he chuckled nervously. “a-anyway,” he cleared his throat. “i’m calling ‘cause there’s this—there’s this thing we have in tennis. at the end of the season. well, a lot of if not all the athletic departments do it—but it's a seasonal banquet. there’s, like, food and awards and shit but i was wondering if . . . if—uh, if you’d want to come? it's on june 3rd—the sunday before graduation. totally no pressure. there’s lots of room for plus ones, so don’t worry about that if you want to come. people do it all the time. my parents won’t be able to come out here until graduation, so it’d be nice to have someone i know there. besides seunghyun. we'd—we’d go as friends, of course. i—i get it if you think its weird,” he descended into a characteristic ramble. “i mean, i would too. maybe. but i asked seunghyun about it,” your eyebrows raised. “and he didn't—he didn’t think it was odd. but of course what matters most is what you want. so, let me know? if you—if you want? yeah. you have—you have my number. i hope your comp went well.”

well that was something, you thought to yourself. it seemed relatively harmless, though you just knew seunghyun had something to do with this. he was mentioned twice, you recalled, what a fucking deviant. you didn’t think about your decision too much. you listened to your gut, noticing how there wasn’t a tug towards desired safety, nor the toxic nip of curiosity to just see what happens. your logic perhaps voiced the concern of this not being one of your best decisions … but if anything, the greedy part of your brain took to the frontlines: who wouldn’t want free food and two fine ass men feigning over you in silence? you turned your sidekick horizontally, lifting the screen to reveal the tactile keyboard. jiyong’s nokia vibrated in his pocket, showing seunghyun his screen with glee. “she said yes!” he exclaimed. if he didn’t know any better, seunghyun would’ve thought jiyong proposed. “for real?” he leaned forward, reading Hi! I got your voicemail. I’d love to go :) Send me details. he smirked, “you asked her over voicemail?” jiyong was quick to defend himself, “she didn’t answer her phone.” seunghyun chuckled, swiftly pulling his phone out. you received a slew of texts, one after the other: At jis do pnot call; i will call u latyer; How ur day; I lov youp. you smirked at your screen. seunghyun’s phone buzzed in his hand a minute later, having to control his warming face whilst jiyong ordered the pizza: You’re not slick. I love you more

the closer it got to graduation, the closer you came to the brink. those deadlines were horrendous, making you choose between completing coursework or up-keeping personal hygiene on particularly rough days. debate and graduation prep on your end were done. all that was left was perfecting and submitting your senior thesis, finishing those last few assignments that just happened to be dense as fuck, and preparing for finals. it took a toll on you. after the third day of falling off the face of the earth after the usual Good morning text, seunghyun had enough, too. there was enough on his plate already as a collegiate athlete: consistent games, demanding physical regiment, initiating the transition to go pro—coupled with his own academic pursuits. but if he’s learned anything these last five months, it's that there’s always room for you. no matter what. your phone dinged! at the library, startling you and eliciting disapproving looks from others deep in their studies. you turned your ringer off, reading the text from seunghyun. you had only just realized it was well past midnight, Baby u still at the library? Yes, you wrote back, A lot to do. your phone vibrated a minute later, Youve been there way too much. Its worrying me. you smirked at your screen, Didnt know u were so charitable. only for him to respond, Im being serious.

when twenty minutes went by with no answer, seunghyun called you. it didn’t take him long to pick up his keys after being sent to voicemail, taking the elevator down to his apartment building’s parking lot. an hour and some change later, at around half past one, the head librarian on your floor came on the sound system, announcing the library would be closing in a half hour. you checked the time on your phone, seeing a text from seunghyun: Librarys closing soon. you typed back, I know. Heading home now. seunghyun spotted you walking out of the front entrance. thank god she chose that one, his inner monologue muttered. he left his seat on the bench, “baby?” he called out, jogging over to you. you weren’t sure if it was the sleep deprivation playing a trick on you, slowly turning around and seeing the voice certainly matched who you thought it belonged to. your eyebrows furrowed: “what?” you muttered in a bit of disbelief. “what—what’re you doing here? it's almost two am.” “i could say the same to you.” he said. his hand came up to your cheek, bending down to kiss the other. “where’re you going?” “my dorm?” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “but you need to relax.” “i can relax in my dorm.” seunghyun loved your stubbornness as it often complemented his, but in times like these, he felt like he played the role of a husband: “nah, nah.” he tutted, shaking his head through your disapproving tsk. “look at me, baby. c'mere.” he leaned down, softly pressing his lips against yours—satisfied in feeling you kiss him back, even more so when your hands came up to hold his face in your palms.

seunghyun ended the kiss just as gently as he started it, resting his forehead against yours. “it's been a week since i last saw you.” he spoke lowly. “i miss you real bad, baby.” he didn’t need you to tell him you missed him, too. he felt it in how you aligned your nose to nuzzle next to his—in how your breath from your parted lips breathed life back into him, your touch behind his neck so poetically familiar. “fine.” you told him definitively. “but you better have something to eat. i haven’t had dinner yet.” and he did. well, as far as kraft mac and cheese and reheated ready-made garlic bread can go. he gave you a pair of his briefs (“don’t look at me like that—they’re freshly washed. probably still warm from the dryer. plus, you’ve had my dick inside you. so it's not that much different.”) and a loose-fitting tee as makeshift pajamas. the shirt was too snug of a fit to your liking to sleep in, so you opted just to stay in your cami. not that seunghyun was complaining whatsoever—there was a sweet grin on his face as he tucked himself into bed next to, over-the-moon to knock the fuck out next to you after a long ass day.

you weren’t sure if it was the white noise of the air-conditioning, the darkness of seunghyun’s bedroom, your head hitting the pillow next to his, or how tenderly he wrapped his arms around you underneath his duvet, dotingly loving you with his warmth—but you were brought to tears; overwhelmed by how much had been on your shoulders these past few months, this week being the absolute worst without question. it felt now that your mind finally had a moment in the quiet, it took the opportunity to remind you where you are. it didn’t feel good. it felt malicious. enough to turn your face and sink into your pillow in shame, body trembling whilst you cried. seunghyun sprung into action: lifting his head up from his pillow, making out your silhouette in the dark. “hey,” he called softly, afraid to speak above a whisper. “baby—hey. hey,” his lips found the back of your shoulder. he heard your muffled cries, “oh no.” he tutted gently, sympathetic. “oh no, my baby. c'mere. at least let me hold you.” you slowly turned into his chest, grateful he couldn’t see your face in the dark. his palm found the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. “what's going on, hm?” how tender his voice was just made you cry harder. you tried to get yourself together. “tell me, baby. i’ve never seen you like this before. it hurts.” “i’m fine.” you cleared your throat, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “i guess—i guess once i, like, settled down or whatever,” you sniffled. “my brain just . . . i don’t know . . . reminded me of how crazy everything’s been.”

seunghyun hummed in understanding. “i just don’t know how—” you cut yourself off, trying to abstain from crying again. you failed, feeling your sinus loosen and bottom lip quiver, “i just don’t know how i’m gonna do it all, seunghyun.” he held you tighter to him, feeling your muffled sob into his shirt. “you will.” he assured, lips kissing your temple. “you’ve made it this far. there’s no reason for you to not go farther. you’re the smartest person i’ve fucking ever met, you know that? hm?” his hand rubbed soothingly up and down your back, leaning down to press kisses onto your shoulder. “you talk your shit in circles around me daily.” he chuckled. you felt him smile into the supple, plush skin of your arm. you took a few deep inhales, trying to steady your heartbeat. “i’m not usually like this.” you muttered. “doesn’t matter if you cry everyday or not at all.” he said. “however you feel is human.” “i’ve never seen you cry.” “not yet.” countered seunghyun, lips returning to your forehead. his fingers swept your cheeks, collecting remnants of your fallen tears. “if i think about it long enough,” he whispered to you. “you crying’ll make me cry.” his words struck a chord in you, loosening your sinuses for a different reason. you reached for his temple, fingers combing through his hair, pulling him to your lips. “i love you.” your voice quivered in its whisper. “tenderly.” “i love you tenderly too, baby.” he reconnected your lips, “my baby. my beautiful baby.”

seunghyun’s senses awoke to his bladder intruding his rem cycle. his haphazard glance into the kitchen, eyeing the time on the stove, let him know it was half past seven in the morning. returning to his bedroom, he was met with an unwelcome surprise. you were up and out of bed, already dressed in your clothes from the night before, packing your backpack at his desk. “what’re you doing?” he mumbled, voice riddled with lingering sleep. “it's so early.” “the library opens soon—” you cut yourself off with a yawn, putting your laptop in its sleeve. “i have to go.” “you were just crying about being there, like, five hours ago, baby.” “crying doesn’t make it disappear, now does it?” you responded without looking up, sifting through the other pockets of your backpack to ensure you had everything you needed—mentally writing a to-do list for the day. seunghyun walked up behind you, fixing your shirt before sneaking his hand underneath the hem, warm palm settling onto your hip. “c'mon, baby. just stay for a little while.” “seunghyun, i have a—” “—an hour or two won’t hurt, y'know.” he said. he leaned down—pressing slow, purposeful kisses on your neck. satisfied chills ran down your spine. you actively tried to fight your fluttering eyes, or how your knees buckled slightly. but then seunghyun’s hand traveled past your stomach, gingerly kneading your breast through your cami. he knows every fucking thing about me, your inner monologue tsked.

your hand reached for his hair, feeling him hum against your supple skin in approval. “that’s right.” he encouraged. “feel me here with you—just like that.” he ushered you to his bed, telling you to “get comfortable f'me. it's gonna be a while, baby.” seunghyun unbuttoned your jeans, tugged your underwear off too, tossing both onto his carpeted floor. you spread your legs like muscle memory, watching him kiss down your inner thigh—taking his sweet, dedicated time with his favorite part of your plushness. his lips were slow on that soft pouch, cheeks relishing in how warm you felt against him. “so fucking beautiful, baby,” he whispered, inching closer to where you needed him the most, and where he wanted to be. “pussy’s fucking divine.” he ate you out like never before, rendering you speechless. his tongue did all the work, mouth latching onto those sweet, puffy lips of yours. his ministrations were slow and deliberate, making sure you felt every flick of his tongue against your clit, every swipe when he flattened it against you, every lap when he got greedy—or most importantly, his muffled whines whenever you tugged his hair. “f-fuck,” he sputtered into you, trying to re-focus on sucking your clit. “f-fuck, baby”. at some point, you were frozen—legs cemented in a spread, helpless to how good you felt. your eyes were closed, mouth hung open, so caught up in the pleasure you forgot to arch your back. it was as if your body didn’t know what to do, only able to speak in a language of light whimpers and broken whispers of your boyfriend’s name—one hand curled around nothing, the other now lifeless in his hair.

seunghyun slurped and suckled in content, ready to do this all fucking day if need-be. he took his sweet time, relishing in your sweet whimpers, humming in satisfaction the wetter you became, making sure you heard him swallow whenever he came up for a breath. it felt good to know his baby felt good and that he was the one doing it. he missed the feeling of your thick thighs clenching around his head, though. even so, he deduced you felt so good you couldn’t move. i know thats fucking right, his inner monologue commended. “i don’t take this for granted.” he said between lapping your clit. “i know how lucky i am. m’gonna start praying to this pussy if that’s what it takes.” your breath hitched suddenly and loudly. your toes curled into his duvet, hips bucking up unexpectedly, unintentionally making him latch off. before you could rush a hazy apology, he beat you to it: “its okay, its okay.” his voice was quiet—tender. you let out a prolonged whimper, effectively wordless—just needing him. you can’t remember the last time you felt so loved, so cared for, doted on in such a vulnerable state. “i got you.” his palms rubbed your thighs, the divots and crevices of your divine cellulite making love to his fingers. he felt up your bare stomach, sneaking underneath your cami, fingers etching over stretch marks—cascading down your supple rolls before returning to your thighs. “seunghyun’s got you, baby. relax for me.” he kissed your inner thigh. “relax f'me. lemme make love to you.”

you regained consciousness when you came, back arching into damn near oblivion. “fuck!” your voice broke. you let out an airy cry, unable to conjure something more guttural—too enraptured in your dream-like state. you felt a dip in the bed, grounded by a kiss to your cheek. seunghyun hovered above you, hands propping him up. “i love you, baby.” he told you sweetly, a second kiss inching closer to your mouth. “i love you, too.” your voice was almost non-existent, staying in a whisper, as if your subconscious was afraid that if you spoke too loudly, your sanctuary would be disturbed. your hand slipped up the side of his neck, bringing his lips to yours. “you bring me back to life . . .” you said breathily, inhaling through your nostrils. seunghyun’s open mouth hovered above yours hungrily, whimpering into the kiss at your words. he was annoyingly hard in his boxers, but stayed kissing you ever so slowly—at your pace. you could’ve sworn you felt the warmth of the sun when his tongue prodded yours, kissing him with increased fervor—your strength returning. “you’ve changed my life for the better.” he muttered against your lips. you whimpered, seunghyun tilting his head to deepen the kiss in return. “the least i can do is take care of you. right? yeah?” “mhm.” you hummed, keeping him tethered to you. “good.” he gradually separated your lips, satisfied in your shallow, yet quiet breath. he leaned into your touch, nuzzling his nose into your palm, kissing your warmth. “then let seunghyunnie take care of you, hm?”

he pushed your shirt up for the hem to rest under your neck. he laid between your legs, stomach aligning with yours, propping himself up with his elbow, palm against his temple. his right hand snuck underneath your cami, watching himself caress your right breast—able to feel it, but not see it entirely. you sucked in a breath, eyes on his hand underneath the fabric, watching a small peak form in the shape of your hardened nipple in real time. your areola was lodged between his pointer and middle finger, a gasp inflating your lungs as seunghyun leaned down, running his tongue repeatedly over your clothed nipple. after a few more, he took a look. “yeah.” he confirmed quietly to himself— working you up. his hand slipped from underneath your cami, tugging it down enough to let your breast breath. he didn’t waste any time in making only the top of his head visible, capturing your nipple between his lips and making love to it with his tongue. he hummed in content, encouraged by your hand in his hair, enraptured by your moans. “o-oh my god!” you whispered. you were stuck on an inhale, breathing when he popped off. “let me hear you.” was all he said when he went to your left breast, angling his head so you could see what he was doing. you watched his tongue nurture your areola, mouth hung up as he kissed your stretch marks before diving back in. “f-fuck…” your voice trailed. “thats so fucking good.” his dick twitched in his boxers, “y-yeah?” it is, baby?“ his syllables were half-finished as he spoke in the midst of his ministrations, but the eye contact with lethal. he got the message when your fingers carded through his hair, sucking like the good boy he is—spoiling you like you deserve.

the birds chirped as he reached for a condom, shutting the drawer of his nightside table. he made love to you the only way he knew how: with purpose. you kissed one another like lost souls reunited after centuries apart. his thrusts were intentionally slow, hardening upon feeling the ball of your foot rest on his lower back, fueling either his and your pathetic whimpers into each other’s mouths. his speed didn’t falter—wanting to not only take his time, but also speak to you without talking. he meant it when he said you’ve changed him for the better; the sun shines brighter and he suddenly believes he was put on this earth to love you and only you. but when he looks at you, his words get lost between his brain and throat. he’s better at expressing those more sentimental thoughts in writing—like the paragraphs he wrote in the card with fresh roses and daisies before you left for nationals—or in things considered mundane to the passerby but are quintessential in your shared lives: remembering when your meetings are, knowing whether to play lenny kravitz or mazzy star in his car depending on your mood, reminding him to take his supplements before going to morning practices, and introducing him to the world of skincare—even if he thought you were fancy for just using a moisturizer—or just filling you up.

you broke the kiss, mouth hovering his. "oh fuck,” you whined, biting your bottom lip. he hit all the places you needed—that were begging for it—the swivel of his hips telling you he knew what the fuck he was doing; he was the only one who knew you this well. “that feel good?” his breath shook. “yeah?” “yeah,” you nodded, looking at him with heavy eyelids. “so good, s-seunghyunnie.” your hands felt past either side of his neck, mindlessly pawing his back before messily carding through his hair. seunghyun kissed you deeply and with more fervor, soon translating that to his hips. he put more weight on his knees, thrusting faster than before, encouraged by your breathy moan. his bed made noise with every dip of his knees. not that he was moving crazily, but just the right amount to keep your mind deeply intertwined with your delectable libido, stretching you out in a way that feels it should be written in scripture—or just plain common sense, really. his bed frame was also aged and couldn’t withstand much motion without letting everyone else in the apartment know, like his roommate who just woke up down the hall.

“my beautiful baby, so f-fucking stressed out,” seunghyun murmured, hearing and feeling his balls intermittently slap against you. “so overworked, so—hngh!—t-tired f-fuck—” your gummy walls clenched around him, dizzying his senses. he took a deep breath, making the bed creak again. “it's unfair.” he panted, shaking his head. “the least you can let me do is take care of you. that's—t-thats the least i can fuckin’ do, baby—oh my f-fucking god,” he looked down, watching the way your thick thighs jiggled with every thrust. your puffy lips swallowed him deliciously, blessing him with a newfound sixth sense—a peek into the divine feminine herself. he looked at you, eyelids heavier than before. you looked beautiful. hair a mess, a light coat of sweat shining on your forehead, mouth agape, but most importantly relaxed. at ease. spoiled fucking rotten. i’ll do anything to keep her this way, he thought to himself. “w-why don’t you let me, huh? why won’t you let your seunghyunnie m-make you f-feel good? make you forget everything? huh?” he pleaded. he was completely at your helm, evident in the quiver in his voice, and how his lips hovered on your temple. your hand came up to the back of his head, keeping him there. “if—if you w-won’t use me—f-fuck—then i’ll give myself to you.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling him fuck you deeper as your back arched—your chest smushing against his. “h-how’s that sound, baby? huh? h-how's—how’s that—” “oh, fuck!” you cried out, eyebrows contorted sinfully. his mouth fell open at the sight, bed creaking louder. “fuck me, j-just like that—ngh!”

he tucked his arms underneath your knees, lifting your legs up a few inches. he came to a sudden halt following his first thrust in the new position—one reason being your wall-shattering gasp, the other the need to bring himself back down to earth; uncross his eyes with a handful of harsh blinks. “i’ve never—” you swallowed, mouth dry. your chest heaved, “i’ve n-never felt that b-before—fuck!” you gasped. the feeling was indescribable—arguably too strong. “stop! stop—don’t move!” “sorry!” seunghyun blurted out, panicking slightly. he tried his best not to fidget. “sorry, baby. my bad. do you—oh, f-fuck—do you w-want to stay like this? we could go back to—back to missionary.” “i—i don’t know,” you thought aloud. “i-it feels . . . good. just really fucking intense.” “i get that.” seunghyun nodded. “holy shit, do i get that.” “try a few thrusts.” “a-are you sure?” you nodded, “wanna see how it f-feels.” seunghyun listened. you thought bitches were making shit up, but your ass saw stars. black spots littered your vision. you went mute. seunghyun’s arms were shaking, looking like he needed an oxygen tank. “do you—” he sounded perishable. “d-d-do you—you want me to keep—” “your ass better move.”

neither of you lasted long. that condom was begging to be freed, so creamy and wet, its usage as a protective barrier felt useless. but with those reports of an upcoming recession? no way in hell were you planning on having a baby anytime soon. not that seunghyun didn’t fuck you like he was ready to become a father tomorrow, though. “oh fuck!” he cried aloud, face scrunched up in one of delectable sin, “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! yeah! y-yeah! oh fuck yeah!” he babbled dumbly, drooling leaking out of the corner of his mouth, fucking your tight pussy at what felt before like an unimaginable angle. “f-feel me? feel that, baby? o—oh my god!” he whimpered, drawing out his syllables. you were silent—everything you needed to say etched in your furrowed eyebrows and hung mouth. he was hitting places that felt dangerous. you ascended into something otherworldly, crying out his name like he’s never heard before. “s-seunghyun! o-oh my god—seunghyun!” you were wholly aware of your body, feeling your toes curl in the air and your back arch into oblivion, but lost in your illustriously carnal haze. seunghyun felt something wet. his vision blurred, seeing your squirt splashing onto his bed, pussy squelching with his thrusts. his stomach caved inward, “i’m gonna fucking marry you.” he whimpered pathetically. “i’m gonna fucking marry—o-oh fuck me!”

come june, you were born anew. senior thesis submitted, no more assignments, and final exams completed. all that was left was the end-of-season banquet, moving out, and graduation. it wasn’t much in comparison to the hustle you were used to, but with the sudden copious amount of free time you had, it felt like it couldn’t come soon enough. you couldn’t do much in terms of clearing out your dorm until your parents were set to arrive a couple days before graduation later in the week—seunghyun has hidden his amused smirk overhearing your bickering regarding travel and dinner plans whilst on the phone with them—so you filled your time by making your boyfriend take you to the mall, dodging his sneaky kisses whilst an associate tried their best to help you pick an outfit for your ceremony. “i almost forgot you can’t take me tonight.” you said to seunghyun over the phone sunday morning. “i was about to ask what time you’d pick me up.” “s'become natural instinct, i guess.” he said. his shoulder kept his blackberry to his ear, hands sorting through his hangers. he pulled his long sleeve black button-up from his closet, making a mental note to iron it for this evening. “you think romeo and juliet felt like this?” you raised an eyebrow though he couldn’t see you, “like the shakespearean couple?” “is there another one i don’t know about?” he retorted smartly, chuckling. “i think their dynamic was a bit more complicated than ours.” you said. “like, there’s was do-or-die. and they died.” “i’d die for you.” “now will that be before or after we graduate?”

seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, making you smile. you felt your phone vibrate in your hand, “hold on, baby. think i got a text.” you flipped your screen to reveal the keyboard. you did get a message, and it was from jiyong: Hi :) Do u have a ride tn? I can drive u if no. you grinned, thumbs already working: Works for me. 6:30? you flipped your screen down, returning your phone to your ear. “guess who’s hitching a ride with her ex.” seunghyun raised his eyebrows, “for real? ji texted you?” “mhm.” “he wants you back, y'know.” “i know.” you said, mind sifting through his recollection of their conversation when you were in san francisco. “you told me.” there was a brief pause on his end of the line, “are you gonna tell him about us on the ride there?” you made a face, “and have him crash the car and kill us both?” seunghyun ran his hand over his face, “you’re right.” “i’m going to tell him before graduation.” you said earnestly, hearing seunghyun hum in acknowledgement. “college of liberal arts is on thursday, anyway. so i still have time. it’ll be too brash—too much if i tell him tonight.” “you’re right, you’re right.” seunghyun nodded. “i sometimes forgot you’re the logical one of us both.” “then i must not be that effective if you forget.” you quipped, hearing him chuckle. “sorry, i just—” he huffed. “i just get greedy, baby.” “you’ve been greedy.” you corrected him. “can you blame me?” he asked. you looked up, seeing your reflection in the mirror mounted above your dresser. “no.” you said, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “i can’t.”

“but listen.” you continued. “i need you to promise me something.” “anything.” seunghyun said without hesitation. “just say the word.” “if jiyong tries anything tonight, you need to not act afool.” “what do you mean?” you huffed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you know exactly what i’m talking about, seunghyun. like, if he has a look in his eyes. or tries to kiss to me or—” “—he’s gonna try to kiss you? since when?” “you said he wanted me back.” you made your argument. “do the math. especially since we both know how he can be.” “okay,” seunghyun went into his argument. “but what’s this about him kissing you?” “i’m just saying that if—” “—he won’t do that shit with me there.” seunghyun shook his head, kissing his teeth. “listen to me.” you said sternly. “hence the use of and my emphasis on the word if. i’m not going to let it get that far,” you said. “but if—and i mean if—there’s even a hint of an iota of a semblance of that behavior from him—even a fucking suggestive twinkle in his eye—you need to keep it together.” you heard him take a long breath, stubborn in his silence. “there is not going to be a scene at your banquet tonight. not on my watch, anyway.” you said. “do you hear me?” you were met with silence. “own up to it.” his posture stiffened. “i’m going tonight because of you. don’t sulk now.” “i’ll try my best.” he said, only to hear you tut disapprovingly. “no. i need a yes. absolute and nothing but.” “yes,” he answered. “i’ll behave.” you let out a breath of relief, “thank you. i love you.” “i love you. too much. at the same time it doesn’t feel like enough.” “it does. it will always be enough.”

jiyong arrived at your residential building right on time, waiting for you whilst stood outside his car. he was clad in a dark gray suit with matching trousers, seeing you in your go-to debate ensemble—a matching black blazer and trouser set—freshened up with accented jewelry. he greeted you with a hug. you returned the polite embrace, feeling bad in having to hold your laughter back, thinking of how if seunghyun were here, steam might’ve been coming out of his ears. you caught a glimpse of the backseat as you settled into the passenger’s, swift flashes of what went down just months ago flurrying your mind. “you look really nice.” jiyong told you with a smile, putting his key into the ignition. “thank you.” you nodded. “you look handsome, too.” “thanks.” he said. “thanks for coming with me tonight, too. i know this is probably not what you wanna do right after finals.” he let out a nervous chuckle, merging onto the street. you shook your head in assurance, “its fine, jiyong. it doesn’t have to be awkward if we don’t make it be.” “that’s true.” he nodded. you made friendly small talk during the fifteen minute car ride, pulling into the hotel housing the ballroom hosting the banquet.

conversation continued after jiyong put his car in park, trading chuckles and half-baked jokes. it was the brightest and widest he’d smiled in what felt like forever. “i’m really happy you came.” he spoke honestly, tone sincere. he met your eyes, “i missed you.” the words could have meant nothing—a friend platonically doting on the other. but with eyes like jiyong’s, there was no such thing as speaking plainly. complicated sentiment was the only option. his gaze softened, unabashedly keeping you tethered to him. his expression didn’t hold the insatiable weight of pleading, but it was just sad. perhaps a bit of relief? you thought to yourself, noticing the small breath parting his lips; how his posture molded with the driver’s seat. a moment lasting seconds felt akin to hours—stuck in time. there it was, that look in his eyes. “i—” a car honked. you and jiyong looked out the windshield at the same time. seunghyun waved to the both of you from his car, cigarette hanging between his lips. jiyong chuckled, waving back. you didn’t flinch, turning away from the window when seunghyun pulled into the spot next to jiyong’s car. he tossed his cigarette onto the asphalt, putting it out with his foot. he looked up, amused at the sight of you and jiyong stepping out of the land rover. “did i miss the memo or what?” “hm?” jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed. seunghyun gestured between you two with his pointer finger, “you two back together?”

you refrained from closing your eyes in frustration. seunghyun relished in it, smile widening. “oh—” jiyong cut himself off, growing sheepish. he glanced at you as if with the hope you would say yes. “n-no. just friends.” he shook his head, looking at his best friend. seunghyun nodded, “my bad.” on the walk to the hotel’s front entrance, jiyong was called over by a group of friends who had just arrived then, too. once he was a good distance away, seunghyun walked next to you. “you can speak when in my presence, y'know.” he quipped discreetly, glancing at his surroundings. you did the same, keeping your eyes ahead, “i know.” he turned his head to the left, looking down at you, “you look really beautiful tonight.” “i know i do.” you said swiftly, hearing him chuckle. “that’s my girl, alright.” he muttered to himself. “go talk to him,” you told seunghyun. “alright, alright.” he kissed his teeth playfully, clearly enjoying this. “i love you.” he blurted, loud enough for only you to hear. you held yourself back from telling him off, seeing him quickly turn around, sticking his tongue out before catching up to jiyong.

the universe had a cruel sense of humor. you could feel god herself giggling down at you, clinking glasses of chardonnay with her fellow deities as you sat between jiyong and seunghyun—in the same order as the night at the hotel, no less; jiyong on your right, seunghyun to your left. there were three athletes sitting across the table from you—a layout mimicked all throughout the ballroom. the banquet began with speeches from coaches and department heads, allotting time for dinner before awards were to be handed out. in the middle of someone’s speech, your phone vibrated in your pocket—a text from your mom, asking if you had eaten dinner yet. you responded, changing to a different conversation. seunghyun’s blackberry vibrated in his pocket. he hesitated to check, glancing at jiyong, whom was listening intently to whoever was speaking. seunghyun then looked at you, seeing your phone was away, your attention undeterred as well. I love you too btw he read, upside down grin on his face at your reference to earlier. Youre on the same side like at the hotel. his face warmed, putting his phone away. a few moments later, you felt something graze the side of your thigh. it was seunghyun—discreetly gesturing to let him fix the back of your blazer. you leaned forward in your seat just enough to let his hand through. he swiftly tugged at the bottom hem, flattening the fabric neatly to mold with your curves. his palm gingerly cascaded down your thigh afterward, settling back into his own lap.

there were a few times during the opening program where jiyong turned to you, smiling as he said something seunghyun couldn’t hear. it was usually followed by a chuckle from your end, or you gesturing jiyong to come closer to say something seunghyun also couldn’t hear. it looked and was friendly—but could you blame him for how he needed to force himself to look away, inhaling sharply through his nostrils, and clenching his jaw in muted frustration? seunghyun understood that to jiyong, you and him weren’t friendly like that, so it makes sense as to why you wouldn’t talk. but not even a spare glance? his thoughts wallowed. or a polite grin? he knew you meant business. in fact, thats the quality he loves utmost about you. you set him straight when he needs it, talk your shit in a way he’s never heard before, and made him into a more honest man. there’s no getting any bullshit passed you—not that he would dare, anyway. so he sat there, quiet. unassuming. on good behavior, like you told him to. he would reap his rewards any way he could. if it meant receiving a waft of your perfume every time you fixed your hair—he’d take it.

when the banquet broke for dinner, you and jiyong went to one side of the catering whereas seunghyun went to the other, luckily distracted by a few athletes he was friendly with at the bar. he really was trying, and you felt it. jiyong introduced you to his friends whenever they came up to him to say hello—each “no, we’re not dating,” more awkward than before. you returned to your table some time later equipped with a plate full of food. jiyong was pulled off to one of his friends’ tables, promising he would meet back with you soon. to your delight, seunghyun was the only one at your table, downing the last sip of his rum and coke. “i see you’ve made the most of your drink vouchers.” you grinned, twirling your spaghetti with your fork. you took a bite, hearing him chuckle sweetly. “you’re finally talking to me.” his syllables slurred a little. you wiped sauce off your lip with a napkin, “how’re you already tipsy?” you thought aloud. “you haven’t eaten much, have you.” seunghyun shook his head, jutting out his bottom lip, “saw some friends at the bar.” he said. “here, have mine.” you pushed your plate to him. you rose from your seat, “line’s not long and there’s plenty of food left.”

seunghyun’s eyes grew twice in size. “why’re you looking at me like that? we like the same shit.” “because i don’t want you to leave.” you tsked, unable to hide your smile, feeling your face warm. “grow up, you big baby.” as you turned to walk away, seunghyun looked across the room, seeing the back of jiyong’s head. he reached over, patting your ass. you looked back at him in a panic. you unintentionally mimicked his movement, seeing jiyong deep in conversation with a friend. “get a good one in.” seunghyun listened diligently, groping your left globe. you left with a satisfied huff. seunghyun watched you walk away, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked down at his lap. “thats my fuckin’ girl.” he muttered to himself, eating a few bites of what became his food. you returned not too long after with a new plate and a margarita, letting out a sweet laugh upon realizing seunghyun was now drinking a vodka cran. “you better eat.” you said, eating a spoonful of macaroni and cheese. you saw jiyong walk over, other hand stirring your drink with the small straw it came with, “and drink water.” “i will.”

“hold up,” seunghyun called to you and jiyong. “gotta piss. hold this for me?” he handed jiyong his best sportsmanship certificate, carried in an elegant stanford-cardinal red folder. jiyong took it with a nod, holding it with his. seunghyun walked down the hall, turning the corner to where the restrooms were, following the directory on the wall. you stood in amicable silence with jiyong. your hand ran along the back of a luxurious lounge chair—one of many scattered throughout the main lobby—eyes drifting to the chandelier hanging above the front desk. “i forgot to check if seunghyun has his keys.” you turned to jiyong at the sound of his voice. something about his tone told you he was trying to fill the air. “do you think he does? so he can get his car tomorrow.” it was an obvious question with an obvious answer: of course the person who drove would still have their keys on them, even if they’re too tipsy for comfort to drive themselves home afterward. he’s smart enough to know. with the way jiyong’s eyes stayed on you, waiting for your answer, it was evident he wanted an excuse to talk to you. “i’m sure he does, jiyong.” you said. “you can check when he comes back.” “right,” jiyong nodded, sincere. “you’re right.”

the fleeting moments of silence that followed, something stirred inside jiyong’s chest. he tried to thwart it—distracting himself with the groups of fellow athletes filing in and out of the hotel, or the couple going back and forth with the concierge about a mistake made in their reservation. but he couldn’t help it. there was only so much one person could stifle for so long. you knew something was afoot, feeling him lay his hand atop yours. you didn’t waste an iota of time: “jiyong.” you warned him, voice leveled. “we can’t. you know this.” he looked at you, but you wouldn’t look at him. “i miss you so fucking badly.” he sounded broken—the world zeroed in on either of you, cancelling everyone else out. “you have no idea what i’ve gone through. how lonely i’ve felt these past five months without you.” his tone wasn’t spiteful. like his expression in the car, he just sounded sad. wounded. delicate. he took a step closer to you. you still weren’t looking at him. he leaned closer to your face, trying to get those beautiful eyes of yours, “i r-respect your choice, of course i do.” his voice quivered. “but i—i can’t live without you.” he shook his head, breath shallow. in your periphery, he looked perishable—eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a pitiful frown. “you don't—” he inhaled through his nostrils. “you don’t miss me?” your eyes fell closed, posture straightening at his question. he was so pathetically hopeful—anyone with a beating heart would feel sympathy. but you drew those lines already. you weren’t going to suddenly back-track now.

“not even a little bit?” jiyong added. you finally looked at him. you could’ve sworn you heard the tiniest whimper stir from his throat. “jiyong,” your tone remained firm. “of course i feel bad that—” “—then take me back.” he cut you off. you sighed—i can’t get anywhere with him, your inner monologue voiced. “jiyong…” “please.” he pleaded. “i’ll do anything. i’ll do anything for you.” before you knew it, his mouth hovered above yours. you breathed each other in, his hand still on yours. you were aware of your surroundings, not intending on closing the gap whatsoever, yet the sudden proximity couldn’t help but catch you off guard. jiyong knew this was wrong—he knew he was directly contradicting himself. but he couldn’t stop the tip of his nose nudging against yours, or his fingers sliding up to your wrist—his gentle touch pampering your smooth skin. seunghyun was watching from the corner—since jiyong had taken a step closer to you. he was frozen in place. his jaw was clenched so tightly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he shattered his teeth in the process. seunghyun never once doubted your loyalty to your relationship nor him as your partner. but to see your logical prediction play out in real time, coupled with the sheer balls on jiyong?? he needs to get a fucking grip on himself, seunghyun’s inner monologue grumbled bitterly. he was fortunate to have preserved a morsel of self-control in his inebriated state, running his hand over his face, inhaling sharply through his nostrils.

you took a breath, “we can’t.” you said definitively. a tangible whimper escaped his diaphragm—somewhere between a groan and a prayer—shoulders sinking feeling your hand leave his, “and we won’t.” jiyong hit a new low, unable to show his face. his forehead landed on your shoulder, stiffening your posture. you heard footsteps, seeing an irate seunghyun. you made searing eye contact—expression reading don’t do anything crazy. he tried to bite back, face reading how could i not? one cold stare from you and he listened, much to your relief: “am i interrupting something, or—” jiyong shot up, walking away wordlessly. either yours and seunghyun’s respective gazes followed him out the front entrance, turning to each other once he was out of sight. “what the fuck was that?” seunghyun thought aloud in disbelief. you let out a long exhale, running your hands over your face. “did he—did he try anything on you, baby?” you looked up, irrationally scanning for jiyong at the sound of seunghyun’s pet name. “he did.” you confirmed honestly. “but it got nowhere. like i said it wouldn’t.” seunghyun kissed his teeth, half in admiration, half in frustration. he dusted your shoulder off, bringing you back down to earth. “keep it moving.” you gestured with your head out the front entrance. “we need to get home. you better keep it together.” “i—i,” seunghyun hiccuped, trying to swallow the tipsiness away. “i will.”

the car ride was silent. seunghyun was in the backseat of the land rover, safely tucked away behind his seatbelt, twiddling his thumbs. your eyes were out the passenger’s seat window, counting the passing cars. jiyong’s stare was vacant, boring out the windshield. his fingers were tightly wound around the steering wheel, but not enough to paint his knuckles white—mind elsewhere, reeling with what he’s done but currently trying to forget for the sake of his sanity. he pulled into the lot outside of your residential building, putting his car in park. you unbuckled your seatbelt, “thank you for the ride home,” you said to jiyong. “and for tonight.” his meek nod pained you with second-hand embarrassment. seunghyun watched his every move. “mhm.” jiyong hummed, turning his head, but barely sparing you a glance—his shame heavy in the air. “it was nice seeing you again,” seunghyun said, tone polite. “for what it's worth.” you turned your head, meeting his eyes. either of your respective gazes softened—a language only you two understand. “you too.” you said simply. “goodnight.” you addressed both jiyong and seunghyun, turning to leave. “night.” jiyong murmured. “night, baby.”

you froze. seunghyun’s blood ran cold. jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed, confused. he looked in the rearview mirror at seunghyun. his best friend quickly looked away, down at his lap—confirming that his ears didn’t deceive him. “what did you just call her?” jiyong stared at seunghyun through the glass, voice eerily leveled. your heart thumped in your chest—we were so fucking close … your inner monologue said bitterly. seunghyun raised his head, trying to get his lick back—establish his characteristic confidence. “i didn’t call her nothing, ji.” jiyong looked to you. you hadn’t moved. you could have, but you were physically stuck in place in shock. to think, this was the way jiyong was going to find out? so brashly, so—so inconceivably? and who had to pick up the pieces now? you did. it was always you. seunghyun’s eyes closed in defeat, head sinking in shame after jiyong slammed the driver’s seat door shut. nothing would kill seunghyun more than to see the disappointment he just knows is plastered on your face right now. he dared to look up at the rearview mirror, seeing the sight of jiyong pacing back and forth behind the car, but your eyes in the corner—piercing. he shook his head, becoming a blubbering fool in a matter of seconds: “i’m sorry—” “—get the fuck out of this car and own up to it.” you cut him off. “now.” “y-yes ma'am.” he nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt, stepping out of the car.

your door slammed closed after his. seunghyun saw you fix your blazer in his periphery. you two rounded the corner of the car, side-by-side, standing across from a distressed jiyong. “ji,” started seunghyun. “just listen to me for a second, man.” “like the fuck i will.” jiyong kissed his teeth, shaking his head. he paced four steps back-and-forth, hands on his hips, sorting through his quick-fire fragmented thoughts knitting his eyebrows together. “we were—” you corrected yourself swiftly. “i was going to tell you.” jiyong stopped in place, looking at you. his expression was sharp, targeted. “we?” his pointer finger gestured between you and seunghyun, condescending in nature. “so you two are a—are a thing?” you nodded, keeping your calm. “yes. we’re together.” seunghyun mimicked, nodding his head. “for how long?” jiyong asked, “huh?” seunghyun looked at you. his expression wasn’t accusatory whatsoever, but rather encouraging—dependent. “since—” you sighed. though you knew you owed jiyong the truth, some part of you remained afraid how he would react. so, in true debate fashion, you skirted around it delicately. “since the wintertime.” seunghyun picked up on your vague word choice, seeing the cogs turn in jiyong’s brain. clouded by the shock of it all. poor guy, his inner monologue voiced. “since the—since winter?” jiyong thought aloud, shaking his head—in the midst of connecting the pieces.

“since december.” seunghyun clarified, getting some of his lick back. “we’ve been together since december.” “but we broke up in january.” jiyong said to you. you took a breath—this is the worst fucking part. just get through this and it’ll be over—“yes, i know we did, jiyong—” “—is that why you broke up with me?” jiyong made his own connections, taking a few steps closer to you. his expression bordered on wild, eyes pained with hurt, tone teetering into accusatory. “because you wanted to fuck my best friend?” seunghyun’s expression darkened. he didn’t appreciate jiyong’s tone, nor how quickly he got comfortable with disrespecting you. your eyes narrowed, standing your ground: “that would fit perfectly into your little narrative, wouldn’t it?” you asked, eye contact unrelenting. with each condescending nod of yours, jiyong felt himself shrink. “would keep your streak going, too.” you continued, crossing your arms over your chest. “since you wanna swing your dick around, saying you got to fuck me, when in reality you nearly perished at a mere fucking tug. so go ahead,” you nodded, challenging jiyong. “say that shit again.”

jiyong swallowed, clearing his throat. “how did you know i said that?” “how the fuck else?” you spoke with conviction. “you wanna talk like you know everything? go ahead. don’t stop now and make me spoon-feed it to you.” jiyong took a step closer to you, trying to bite back. seunghyun’s jaw clenched. “i’m not inept.” jiyong said sharply to you. “you’re not.” you shook your head curtly. “but you’re fucking insecure.” jiyong fucking hated how quickly his sinuses loosened. he inhaled sharply through his nostrils, trying not to let your harsh reality impede on his back talk—but the truth fucking hurts. he was stuck in an unforgiving cycle: think you’ve got it, then you don’t. was it really repeated misfortune, or is he really just that intolerable? had he really found the one, or did he scare her away—into his best friend’s fucking arms, out of all fucking people? “shit.” he cursed between his teeth, feeling his eyes water. jiyong turned around, pacing a few steps forward, his hands on his head in muted agony. both you and seunghyun watched jiyong in silence, unsure of what to do next. jiyong’s face trembled, nearly succumbing to his tears. why does seunghyun always gets what he wants? his inner monologue quivered, reminiscent of a young child’s, what about me? he felt juvenile for thinking of a serious situation in such a silly manner. he knew there was more nuance to this than his stubbornness was willing him to believe, but how else could he word it? there it was, the other pattern defining—no, bleeding his life dry since he could remember. since that fucking neighborhood block party as a kid.

jiyong ran a hand over his face, getting himself together. he turned around, facing the two of you—subconsciously recognizing you as one unit; a collective, impenetrable moving force. “is that what this is?” he voiced meekly. dissatisfied with himself, he poked his cheek with his tongue, gesturing between you and seunghyun with his finger. “you cheated on me with seunghyun to get back at me for lying about fucking you?” you scoff eviscerated his last shred of dignity. you shrugged your shoulders, “you’re a lost cause.” you told jiyong, shaking your head. the same time you turned your back and walked a few paces away—appalled by his sheer audacity—seunghyun walked up to jiyong. “hey,” he said sternly, pointing at jiyong’s chest. “you don’t get to fucking speak to her like that.” “the fuck does it matter to you! you didn’t give a fuck about her! i was the only one who did!” jiyong yelled, smacking seunghyun’s hand away. his throat felt raw, “you always get whatever the fuck you want!” his voice echoed throughout the empty parking lot. you ran your hands over your face, wanting to be anywhere else but here. “it's not fair!” jiyong yelled. seunghyun didn’t back down from the challenge, looking at his brother since sentience in the eye with undiluted defiance. “how did—how did you even—” jiyong stumbled on his words, awkwardly gesturing to nothing at his side, trying to form a sentence. he shook his head, looking for stability in his thoughts. “how did you even get together, seunghyun?” he looked at his best friend, utterly helpless. “how could you do this to me? she was mine first!”

seunghyun kissed his teeth dismissively. “nah, man. i’ve paid my fucking dues. i’ve learned from my mistakes and how bad i fumbled.” he told jiyong. “but what i’m not gonna let you do is forget that she saw me first. so fuck off with your cuck-ass bullshit.” your face sunk into your hands, “you have got to be fucking kidding me.” you muttered to yourself, they really talk like they’re not a day passed seven. jiyong thought he was going crazy, “what the fuck are you talking about!?” he yelled at seunghyun, throat dry, nearly descending into a coughing fit. he swallowed hard, fingers pounding on his temples dramatically, “what the actual—what the actual fuck are you talking about, seunghyun? do you not hear yourself when you talk!? you told me to bring her tonight, knowing what you two are dating!” he took a deep breath. “what's—what’s wrong with you, man? all of our lives you’ve gotten everything—everything you’ve wanted. and—and now—” jiyong scoffed pitifully, the words caught in his throat. “the—the one fucking time i have someone, you just—you just took her away. like it was nothing. like she’s nothing,” jiyong gestured to your back. seunghyun’s jaw clenched, eye contact with jiyong unrelenting. “she’s not nothing.” murmured seunghyun. jiyong shook his head in disbelief, “why couldn’t i just have this one—this one thing?” his chest felt hollow, head nauseated with shame and inexplicable betrayal. “you couldn’t leave her alone? just this once? out of the girlfriends i’ve had, she’s the one you just so happened to want?” tears clouded his vision. jiyong blinked harshly, “huh? why, seunghyun? fucking why!”

seunghyun shook his head defiantly, getting up in jiyong’s face. jiyong pushed his shoulders, but seunghyun came right back. “i didn’t take bullshit away, ji.” he taunted. “it's not my fault she answered and didn’t hang up. it's not my fault that we went out to dinner and she didn’t wanna leave.” he watched his best friend crumble with every syllable—every breath. “what is my fault is—is that—” seunghyun cleared his throat, zeroing himself back in. “is that i was stupid for not realizing what i wanted before it could hurt you.” “fuck you, man.” jiyong spat, but his pitiful expression said otherwise. “everything’s always been so easy for you.” said jiyong bitterly, “you don’t get to talk.” “nah,” seunghyun stared down at him. “'cause you don’t get to talk either, ji.” he shook his head menacingly, “you think it was easy hearing you talk about someone every fucking day, when you had no idea what to do with all that? what to do with all of her?” he tutted. “you think it was fucking easy to see the look on her face when you didn’t tell her you loved her? and then you went and told her over fucking text? really, ji? have you ever been fucking serious a goddamn day in your fucking life?” your stomach dropped. your eyes widened, body going on auto-pilot. you walked up to seunghyun, “that’s enough.” you spoke with conviction, though he wasn’t budging. you saw how all the color drained from jiyong’s face. it petrified you, wondering how the brash mention of such a sensitive topic would play out. you didn’t want to stick around to find out: “i said that’s fucking enough.”

you weren’t particularly religious—though meeting jiyong’s eyes ushered you into judgment day. his pupils twinkled devastatingly underneath the glow of the street lamp, erasing any surrounding white noise. the world fell silent. it always did with those eyes of his, “you told him?” it was a natural instinct to want to reach out and comfort him. however, it wasn’t attributed to your past relationship, nor basic human empathy. he was born to be comforted—made to feel worthy, re-assured with love. any palm could be molded to fit his cheek—any kiss can rejuvenate his senses. in another life, he was an artist’s muse: elegantly immortalized on canvas, vividly celebrated in marble. his emotions were never misguided, but rather guideposts of the human experience. in this life, unfortunately, he’s been banished to the unforgiving gallows of insatiable want with no means of a tangible end. stuck in a cycle—looking at the love of his vulnerable yet beautiful soul hold the arm of the one who’s tightened that suffocating rope his entire life. “you told him everything?” jiyong’s voice was meek, utterly devastated. you held onto seunghyun’s arm tighter, fighting the urge to comfort his sad soul: “i—” “—you’re talking to me.” seunghyun took a step forward, effectively out of your grip. “not her. me.” he pointed to himself, looking at jiyong. “you’re not gonna get another chance to disrespect her.”

jiyong looked offended. “disrespect her? i’m nicer than you’ll ever fucking be, seunghyun.” he said sharply. “you toss people out like garbage. like you did to her before you—before you decided to j-just randomly change your mind. like you’re doing to me right fucking now.” seunghyun took a deep breath, actively deterring the need to yell—he was historically the more level-headed energy in their arguments. “i didn’t randomly change my mind.” he said calmly. “yeah? well, it fucking feels like you did. just—just swooped in when no one was looking.” jiyong tsked. silence brewed in the tension-filled air. jiyong was at his wit’s end, “that’s the—she’s the love of my life, man.” “mine too.” said seunghyun. “i’m an honest man because of her.” if the unspoken words displayed on jiyong’s face were audible, he would be indicted on federal-level charges. “like you ever were to begin with.” he muttered bitterly. “you didn’t give a fuck. you never give a fuck about people in a normal way.”

seunghyun couldn’t take it anymore: “i always did!” he yelled, voice booming down the lot. “i always cared! do you not fucking hear yourself, ji? huh!?” seunghyun threw jiyong’s words back at him, rapidly tapping his own temple, eyes widening in frustration. “y'know, when we first came here, i wanted you to have a life of your own. because i saw how much it killed you to—to constantly be associated with me at the academy,” said seunghyun. “i’m not fucking stupid, ji.” he shook his head, not giving jiyong the chance to breath with his seething eye contact. “you may think i am, but i’m a lot smarter than you wanna fucking admit. you want people to know you’re the older one. you don’t want to be known for tennis since you got wrapped into it 'cause of me. you fucking hated and i mean hated!” he yelled. “when we both got into stanford, because there’s another thing that’ll tie us together furrr-ever.” seunghyun listed on his fingers, pumped-adrenaline from the roll he was on temporarily compromising his pronunciation. he talked like you’ve never heard him speak before. he became straight up bitter the angrier he got, “you wanna last in people’s memories for longer than five fucking seconds. great. great! go ahead! no one’s stopping you!” seunghyun let out a condescending laugh, throwing his hands in the air.

he looked over his shoulder, arm gesturing at you behind him, his attention returning to jiyong. “you don’t want the love of your life slipping through your fingers.” you covered your mouth. you couldn’t deter your eyes though jiyong and seunghyun were only a few feet in front of you, akin to a car crash. “i get that, ji. okay? i understand.” seunghyun nodded. “but what you need to understand is that you were a placeholder.” jiyong’s knuckles went white, fists at his sides, jaw clenching. seunghyun licked his lips, “i don’t know why it was her and not someone else. i don’t.” he shook his head, earnest. “but i know—i know this is different. i’m not letting her go. no matter what the fuck you say. or do.” jiyong’s voice quivered, “i can’t ever forgive you for this.” seunghyun’s shoulders didn’t slump, nor did his posture falter. “i know.” he leaned forward, staring into jiyong’s mutilated soul. “how’d my dick taste in your mouth, though?”

it all happened so quickly: jiyong swung, seunghyun dodged; popped jiyong on the jaw, nearly sending him toppling onto the asphalt. you gasped sharply, not knowing what to do, moving forward on nothing but instinct. seunghyun grunted, breathing temporarily stalled after jiyong punched him square on the chest, swinging back—completely undeterred by your yanking of his suit; in his own world, hellbent on his own objectives. you grabbed as much as you could, pulling hard. “are you fucking crazy!?” you exclaimed, bottom of your loafers skidding against the pavement. “have you lost your damn—” you yelped, letting go immediately. you registered an intense stinging sensation on your right hand—half of your pinky nail was gone; snapped off after chipping against a loose thread, combined with the force of your pulls. “shit!” you cursed aloud, eyes watering. it was unbearable, almost paralyzing. applying pressure to the wound was useless—it only caused you to wince louder, unable to stop your tears in your immediate reaction. seunghyun turned around, horrified: “look what you fucking did ji—” the wind was knocked out of him again, jiyong punching his chest and pushing hard against his shoulders afterward, sending seunghyun stumbling backwards, and unintentionally into you. you fell onto the pavement. no further physical injury, thankfully, but in the sudden intensity of it all, a moment of weakness slipped through the cracks: a sob ringing from your diaphragm.

seunghyun panicked, scurrying over to you. “h—hey,” he was on all fours, having not gotten up yet, the adrenaline currently fogging his logic. “you okay, baby? a-are—are you hurt? hey—” “—i’m fine.” you wiped the tears off your face harshly, pissed at everything and every-fucking one. seunghyun grabbed your wrist, eyes widening, “oh my god—what happened to your hand? h-holy shit.” “i-it was when i—” your tears had subsided, yet the stability in your voice had yet to return. “w-when you—” “—look what the fuck you did, jiyong!” seunghyun yelled. he got to his feet, “she's—she’s fucking bleeding, man!” jiyong’s face fell, “w-what? i didn’t . . . i didn’t mean to—” “that’s what happens when you do the stupid shit you do,” spat seunghyun, “people get hurt.” “you’ve hurt me my entire fucking life! made me—made me feel weak!” jiyong yelled. he pointed at seunghyun, feeling his bottom lip pulsate. “that’s all you know how to do, seunghyun!” seunghyun stepped forward, about to retaliate. “if only you—” “shut the fuck up!” you yelled, drawing out the last syllable in desperation—or until your breath gave out. jiyong and seunghyun were stunned into silence. finally, some fucking peace—"the both of you are so fucking annoying—god!“ you ended in a frustrated exclaim, pinching the bridge of your nose.

after a moment, you took a breath. you laid your left palm on the pavement in an effort to boost yourself onto your feet. "here, let me—” “you’ve done enough.” you said curtly to seunghyun, who backed off immediately, hands behind his back. you got up, pain searing on your pinky. “fuck,” you winced, wrist limp. on his instinct, seunghyun’s body was close to yours. you lifted your head, looking at jiyong. “we’re done.” you said, plain and simple. “fuck off. forever and always.” you turned your head, glancing at seunghyun. “i don’t care what the fuck you do,” you said. “i just want to go to bed.” with that, you walked away, towards the front entrance of your residential building. seunghyun took a steps forward in your direction, but found himself stalling. he turned to jiyong, their exchange wordless. there it was—their special language, harnessed and utilized since birth, spoken for what feels like the last time. they stared at each other underneath the warmth of the aged streetlight—jiyong’s bottom lip swollen; seunghyun’s left eyebrow scuffed and chest most definitely bruised—in complete silence to the passerby, but a cacophony of madness blasting their brains.

it was a last goodbye. jiyong’s face was unreadable, too tired to show emotion anymore. with how his fingers curled into his palm, however, tugging at the sleeve of his suit, communicated unease. like he wasn’t ready for what this was going to mean with the only person he’s ever trusted in his life. seunghyun’s eyes glistened, not sure where exactly his emotions were coming from, since there were so many avenues: having just fought with jiyong; the love of his life is currently hurting both emotionally and physically; the mess he’s going to repair once he walks inside your dorm; the realization that he’s already made his decision, and once he puts one foot in front of the other, his best friend will become a stranger. seunghyun’s lips parted, taking a breath. he walked away and didn’t look back.

you two stood in silence in the communal kitchen. seunghyun sifted through the first aid kit, collecting a few alcohol wipes, a sterile gauze sponge, and band aids. he tended to your broken pinky nail, cleaning and securely bandaging it up. “i know.” he whispered whenever you couldn’t hold in your wince, feeling it throb. “i know, baby.” he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. he sat in a chair, you stood between his knees as you tended to the scuff on his eyebrow. you cleaned the cut with an alcohol wipe, protecting it with a smaller-sized bandaid.

seunghyun helped you undress in your dorm, sliding your blazer off your arms before unbuttoning the back of your blouse. he hung his suit on the back of your desk chair, leaving his button-up with it, too. he sat on the edge of your bed after taking his matching trousers off, feeling the mattress dip next to him. “hm?” he hummed. he looked up, seeing you point to his bare chest, a few bruises littering his pecks. you brought out your vanilla-scented body oil, usually used to moisturize your body after a shower, but massaged it into his skin nonetheless. though the oil held no healing properties, the tenderness of your gesture and touch was enough to start healing him. seunghyun’s posture relaxed, head falling back whilst his eyes closed, breathing steadying as your left palm wrote a love letter on his chest—each firm rub an affirmation, each encircled trace of a bruise a vow.

you massaged whatever oil was left into either of his shoulders. your hand found the back of his neck, bringing seunghyun in for a long-needed kiss. it was slow—breathing each other in through your nostrils. the kiss gently broke, the tips of your noses brushing together. you broke long-standing, yet amicable silence: “that was really stupid.” you alleviated the messy tension. seunghyun chuckled, breath warm against your cheek. “it wasn’t a little bit hot?” he quipped in a murmur, making you smile. “maybe.” you giggled sweetly, “a little bit.” your hand combed through his hair, fingers gingerly fixing stray strands laying in disarray on his forehead. “did you think i was gonna follow you?” he asked, voice low. though you took a moment, you answered in earnest. you shook your head, looking into his eyes, “no.” it was plausible: so much history between him and jiyong, it would make more than enough sense to stick by his side, even after nearly bashing each other’s faces in. but as you looked into the love of your life’s eyes, watching his twinkling pupils scatter around your features; mouth parted in unspoken hope, latching on your every word—you couldn’t help but be happy that the one you upended your life for did the exactly same thing for you. this love story is tragic, your inner monologue voiced, but those are always the best ones, right?

“but i’m glad you did.” you told seunghyun. a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. he leaned in, kissing you firmly. you kissed him back, hand with your injury pinky gently riding up his bare chest, settling comfortably onto the side of his neck. seunghyun kissed you again before breaking apart, resting his forehead against yours. you two settled into bed soon afterward, seunghyun reaching over you to turn your lamp off before settling onto your chest. your fingers lovingly carded through his hair, bandaged pinky held in the air to avoid any discomfort on your end. perhaps it was the white noise of your air conditioning unit, the fact that seunghyun was in a dark and quiet room and nestled into your chest, that the emotional gravitas of the evening finally began to weigh on him. this was not to say you went unscathed—you were exhausted to the point of muscular weakness. seunghyun felt his sinuses tingle, loosening expeditiously. he sucked in his bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling. his shuddering shoulders gave him away. “seunghyun?” you were alert. “hey,” your fingers raked through his hair, trying to get his attention. you heard muffled cries, a part of your shirt dampening. there was a moment he seemed to have leveled. until he couldn’t bear it anymore, breaking out into broken sobs. you held him as tightly as you could, feeling his hands aimlessly paw at your waist. he didn’t say a word. your vision blurred, clamping your eyes shut.

the next few days were for recalibrating. seunghyun called a taxi to the hotel, trying to ward off his hangover with a cigarette. he rubbed his face at a traffic light, skin feeling heavier than usual. he sucked in a breath, pressing gently down on his sore sinuses—evident remnants of how hard he cried just hours before. he pulled into a pharmacy, walking through the aisles for antiseptic, fresh gauze and bandages for your pinky. his phone buzzed in his pocket whilst standing in line for checkout: Im more awake now, you texted. lmk when youre back. ofc baby, he typed with his left hand, right holding the full shopping basket. it was then that he saw the time, 10:37 AM. it's only hitting me now that it's monday, he thought to himself. he looked up, seeing a free cashier gesturing for him to come to their counter, last week ji and i made plans to help each other move out. wonder how he’s gonna do it on his own. jiyong woke up with a blistering headache. he stumbled into the bathroom, squinting at his reflection after hastily turning the light on. his bottom lip was swollen and bruised—not enough to warrant a visit to the nearby urgent care, but enough to begrudgingly put ice on it as his eggo waffles toasted; scarfing them down before throwing back two advils for the pain. just when his brain started to catch up with his body, senses permeated by the memories of the evening previous, his phone rang—ringtone piercing.

“hello? mom?” he mumbled, trying to decipher her words. his headache worsened, “you’re at the airport? how long’ve you and dad been there?” he had forgotten his parents were flying in today for graduation later in the week. to his relief, he hadn’t inadvertently stranded them at san jose international airport, but by his mother’s tone, she was growing impatient. “i’ll leave soon—traffic isn’t bad in the morning. okay. i love you, too. yes—yes, mom. i’ll drive carefully.” his parents were mortified to see their son’s injured mouth. hundreds if not thousands of questions were hurled at him. jiyong couldn’t stomach looking into their eyes, closing the trunk with a huff after putting their luggage inside. “seunghyun and i got into a fight.” jiyong muttered, putting his car in drive. “that badly?” he looked into the rearview mirror, seeing his father point to his lip. jiyong tsked, keeping his eyes on the road. “what could’ve possibly made you two that upset?” his mother disapproved, shaking her head. “this is so unlike you.” jiyong grimaced, tight-lipped as his bitterness clouded his senses. more like who it was, his inner monologue grumbled, merging into traffic.

word travels fast. seunghyun dug into his egg’s benedict as you cut into your breakfast platter—either of your styrofoam take-out boxes squeaking against the table in the communal kitchen—his phone rang. “hello?” his voice was muffled, trying to chew through his bite, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin. his father didn’t waste time with pleasantries: “what’s this i hear about you and jiyong getting into a fight?” seunghyun glanced in your direction. with how you looked at him, it was as if you understood his mother language. seunghyun cleared his throat, expression darkening a bit. his chin sunk, “we’re not talking right now, dad.” he spoke into the phone, “i'll—i’ll tell you and mom when you come tomorrow. it's a lot to explain over the phone. the least i can do is tell you face-to-face.” it surprised you when he called the next afternoon, asking if you were free for dinner.

“talk about a novel way to meet your boyfriend’s parents.” you quipped, holding your phone to your ear with your shoulder. your hands were occupied with folding your clothes and putting them into your luggage—the task you worked through today to slowly pack your dorm up for move-out. “after … y'know.” “i know.” said seunghyun. he overheard his parents in the kitchen, trying to differentiate his tupperware from his roommate’s, “would you be ready in a couple hours? around seven, let's say? my parents have a rental, so they’ll meet us there from their hotel. alleviate some of the—” he cut himself off, unsure of what word to use, “y'know.” you took a moment before responding, “they wanna see if i was worth it, don’t they?” seunghyun was quick to reassure, “you leave that to me.” he said. “you’re more than worth it. you need to know that.” you turned to retrieve the last few sweaters from your dresser, catching your reflection in the mirror. “i know.”

the world moves fast, but you and seunghyun move faster. the following day—wednesday evening, the night before your graduation—seunghyun’s for the school of humanities and science was friday morning—he met your parents over dinner. his eyebrow scuff had healed enough to ward off worry of you dating a heathen. he was a smooth and confident talker, getting to know your parents as much as they got to know him. he offered an easy smile before answering questions about his studies, or how tennis became such an important pillar of his life since a young age. he mentioned jiyong, but not by name: “a family friend and i have done it since we were kids.” he said, quickly taking a sip of his water, “its stuck since then.” though his characteristic confidence spoke for itself, he sought a comforting grip of your hand underneath the table whenever possible—adding a gentle swipe with his thumb after you explained your bandaged pinky away, “i was packing. i didn’t have a good grip on a storage box.” you said to your parents. “it hurts a lot less now, though. but i can’t do much heavy lifting. that’s where he comes in.” you gestured to seunghyun. he grinned, glancing down at his lap, feeling his face warm through his mounting sheepishness.

jiyong saw you in the crowd at graduation. he heard your name being called, but looked away before you walked across the stage to accept your degree. seunghyun and jiyong were tight-lipped in photos and spoke minimally to one another in their shared graduation dinner come friday night—much to either of their parents’ dismay. not that you were planning on it, but you didn’t attend—spending your evening with your parents, finishing packing your dorm to load the mover’s van the next morning. on the way to meet his parents at their hotel, jiyong drove by your residential building. though it was a simple start to the early afternoon on this partly cloudy saturday, the universe still had some distasteful jokes up her sleeve.

he came to a gradual stop at the traffic light, reaching down to recline his seat a centimeter or two. he stuck his elbow out the window, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. his ears caught the sound of rickety carts, turning his head to his left. he was able to make out the open trunk of a uhaul van—seeing you turn the corner, seunghyun behind you wheeling a steele moving cart filled with your belongings. he saw two people standing by the other side of the van in conversation—presumably your parents. his heart sunk bitterly, but for a fleeting second, he forgot the reason why: i didn’t know hyun was gonna be here, his inner monologue voiced, he didn’t tell—

he kissed his teeth, looking away. why would he? he wondered pitifully. resent brewed between his temples, percolating at the back of his neck. his eyebrows furrowed in muted frustration, not like we’d tell each other anything anyway. sharing their immediate thoughts, phoning the other whenever they were just an iota unsure about something, and being one another’s second nature felt long gone—all in a matter of days. a shared life, disqualified with a swing of a fist. not erased, though. at least not to me … jiyong couldn’t stop himself from looking again. he watched seunghyun and your father lift a heavy storage bin into the van—your mother and you talking to the side. once finished, seunghyun checked to see if your parents weren’t looking, sneaking a kiss to your temple. a silent thank you manifested in your hand rubbing his lower back, bandaged pinky running along the fabric of his shirt.

that was also when jiyong saw your shirt: I TOLD YA, in bold letters. the words were stacked vertically, staring jiyong right in the eye. he had never seen you wear it before, let alone in your closet. though the look of the relaxed gray fabric was somewhat familiar, he was too busy jumping to irrational conclusions. it felt like a subliminal message—something out to get him; taunt him. that he would never be happy, everything he will want would eventually be taken away, and vindication wasn’t part of his fate: i told you so. whilst you and seunghyun were clueless—ushered over by your parents to make plans for lunch—jiyong sped off, tight-lipped; vein engorged on his temple . . .

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

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slimybeth69 · 7 months ago

Note

Yayyyyy!

Ok so I have a question, from the Venus in Furs universe:

What if reader HAD been married, like Joel first assumed? How would their affair have been/ how would the whole Salt Lake excursion have happened??

Oh my god. I've ever even though about this because Joel was her one and only...but-- I've thought about it now and this is what I think would have happened after he asked her to come with him even though he knew she was married.

WC: 450 Rating: M

The inside of your cheek is damn near bleeding from how much you’ve been gnawing at it. Joel’s question about leaving with him still lingers in the forefront of your mind.

He knows you’re not happy– he’s seen the way that Nelson treats you down at the Tipsy Bison. He knows how desperate you are for a man’s touch.

That’s why you’re sneaking out to that old abandoned cabin every four days, and your husband doesn’t even notice.

You’ve dreamed of something like this happening, someone coming to rescue you from the mundane life you’ve built here in Jackson since your dad died four years ago. You married the first man who ever spoke nice to you because you didn’t know any better.

Now you’re yearning to… do something other than be ignored by the man who vowed to love you forever.

You get up off the couch and go to your room, open the door to your closet and pull out your backpack.

It’s not a question anymore… Whatever Joel is going to do on the road with that kid he showed up with has got to be better than this.

You pack light but smart, just like he said you should if you wanted to come with him.

Your heart is racing as you trudge back to the cabin for the last time– you’re leaving tonight.

Joel and the kid are already waiting with an extra horse.

The young girl sitting behind Joel groans loudly. “You mean I have to sit behind you the whole fuckin’ time now?” She glares at you from over Joel’s shoulder.

He smirks as you climb up onto the horse he brought for you, and for the first time you’re thankful for the chill in the air. Your cheeks are already rosy from the walk and that hides the blush behind them nicely.

Joel leans over as you’re getting settled and whispers. “Glad you decided to come.”

Your eyes snap to him and then the girl behind him, who is glaring at you. “I am too,” you whisper as your eyes move back to steal one more glance at him before he pulls away. “Just hope he doesn’t come lookin’--”

“He even gonna realize ya’ gone?” Joel grunts, pinching his brows together gently.

“Probably not,” you shrug your shoulders and drop your gaze to the ground.

“Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“It’s fine. You’re right. We should get goin’.” You nod for him to take the lead.

Joel leans in again and cups his gloved hand around your ear, his warm breath plumes down the side of your face and it’s heavenly. “Glad my lil crybaby made the right choice. Gonna show you how smart y’are later."

#ask #drabble requests #this was so fun #JOEL WINS EVERY TIME #joel miller x reader #crybaby universe

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ur-mousey · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Make You Miss Me ~

Imagine - Jude Duarte x Singer! Cardan Greenbriar (Song inspo linked ⬇️)

Imagine! Cardan Greenbriar, the High King of Elfhame, sitting alone on his throne. The crown made of thorns felt heavy upon his head, a constant reminder of who he'd banished. The grand hall emptied of its accord. However, in the wake of their presence, where diplomats lose their inhibition at his feet, Cardan never felt more abandoned.

He was without Jude, his wife, whom he had sentenced to a mortal life. She was his beautiful and most terrifying love, but Cardan knew deep down that she belonged elsewhere from this place.

It was selfish of him to believe otherwise. She was a queen, robbed of her status by her wicked king. Why would she return for him?

Imagine! It has been months since Cardan's riddle went unsolved. He drove himself mad, over-analyzing why his letters were left discarded. He left himself painfully sober for days. Torturing himself to come up with a lure. He missed her lying whims. I hate you, were her whispers of promise. He hated that their marriage started on a sour note.

Cardan never even came close to matching her strength. What if she wholly decided to leave Elfhame and him entirely? He doubted that age would fog his memories of her. And, even if it would be fatal to resist, he vowed to cradle his obsession between the pages of Alice in Wonderland as he had done through their childhood.

Imagine! Living through boring meetings where thoughts of Jude pressed heavily on your mind. The surrounding diplomatic dribble was doomed to fall on deaf ears.

Cardan sought distractions from his quill and parchment whenever his emotions overwhelmed him. He felt the constant restlessness of yearning for Jude's return. It was a feeling that gnawed at him day in and day out until he could take it no longer. Down in this cellar, where his love became realized, he could hardly but briefly assume that his wife would come to protect him from his woes.

"Jude's absence makes you worry." The Bomb noted as she stirred her brandy lazily. Her voice rang sympathetic and in tune with the ice cubes clinking against glass. Cardan halted his shuffling of cards, the room's silence now keenly felt.

Cardan dealt the cards with ease and confidence among the Court of Shadows, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "I'm obvious, aren't I?" he quipped as if talking to no one in particular. However, his mirth quickly faded as he continued, "Jude hasn't yet responded to a single letter of mine. I'm afraid."

The Roach hummed, reaching for his cards. "If letters don't reach her, your voice will."

Imagine! Despite the dark circles under her eyes caused by sleepless nights, Jude forced herself to get up from the couch and walk to the window. She craved the fresh air to clear her mind and drive away her growing hatred towards everything related to Elfhame.

"I'll make you miss me~" The haunting melody danced over the bend of the wind. She recognized the voice of Cardan singing the tune and the realization that he was desperate. The thought both excited and frightened her.

youtube

.............................. Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! I am currently taking in ideas 🥳 This idea has been shoved to the back of my mind so I'm glad to have written it. Holly Black stated that Valerian has sexual feelings towards Jude...

#Youtube #jude x cardan #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan is obessessed #music video #i'll make you miss me #fanfic #realizing that Valerian was sexually into Jude changed my brain chemistry #angst fic #tfota #jurdan #jurdan fic #cardan greenbriar #jude durate

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

"Four-eyes," quiet, soft at first.

"Hm?"

"I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Four-eyes," this time - sterner. "Look at me."

Hange does, putting the book down. Levi is standing in the doorway, leaning heavily against it. He is tense, his lips are pressed together, turning white. Hange moves immediately, gathering the books up in their arms to free a place for Levi on the couch. He takes it, falling on soft cushions heavily. He grips the armrest firmly, breaths coming out of him in form of pants.

"How many times I told you to not overstrain yourself?" Hange chides softly, pulling Levi's legs up and onto their lap. They start to massage his feet, their movements measured, careful and loving. "You have a wheelchair, a cane... you shouldn't walk around like that."

"I wasn't walking around," Levi grits through pain. "I was standing, waiting for you. I have a question."

"Well? What is it?"

Levi doesn't answer instantly. For a long moment, he is silent, and when Hange looks up at him, meeting his eyes, they find them strange. Levi's eyes... Hange never saw them like that, not in the light of day. That uncertain, vulnerable look belongs to long, solemn nights, when darkness seems especially dark and full of ghosts, and every nightmare is frighteningly real. That look... it is unfitting to their new peaceful life.

"Are you happy?" Levi asks at last, and the question- is so sudden that it rips a chuckle out of Hange. All the tension that gathered in their fingertips during Levi's silence dissipates, curving their lips into a smile.

"Huh?" they're equal parts confused and playful. "What kind of question is that?"

Levi's one hundred percent done with them. "A simple one."

"Well..." Hange taps their chin. "Answer it yourself then. Are you happy?"

Levi bristles. "I asked you first."

"I asked you second."

"Don't be so childish."

"Don't be so dull."

"Hange," he sighs, skimping back onto the couch, with a hand thrown over his eyes. "Answer me. Please."

The defeated, nearly mournful tint of his voice tugs at Hange's heart. They drop the teasing and lean forward, peeking into Levi's eyes. "I'll answer your question, but then you'll have to answer mine. Alright?"

"Fine," Levi grumbles. He looks at them but not directly, as though... he's anxious, afraid to actually hear what Hange is going to say.

Something is gnawing at him, it is obvious, and whatever has him worried so won't be thwarted with just words, and so Hange sits up, then settles on top of Levi, with their legs tucked neatly in between his and chin resting on top of his chest.

"Am I happy?" they say, fingers sprawled across his ribcage. "What a silly question. I have this lovely house, my gorgeous garden, you..."

"And this..." Levi speaks slowly, hoarsely as though every word he says hurts him. "Is this enough for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Is this what you dreamt of? Of being stuck in a house, with only books and plants as your only entertainment, of having to care for a cri-"

Hange shushes him, presses a palm to Levi's lips before that awful word gets out. It is forbidden in their house. Hange hates it with passion, especially when it is Levi who utters it.

"Don't know what's gotten into you," their voice gains some steel, acquired during the days Hange wishes to put behind. "But it is indeed what I've been dreaming of. For years that we've been stuck in that hell, the only thing that got me through most days was this, Levi - an image of a peaceful, normal life. With you by my side. So yes, of course, I'm happy. Happier," they say, making an emphasis on that word, "than I've ever dreamed of being."

"But don't you ever yearn for more? Doesn't this routine bore you?"

"Are you trying to say that you're boring?" Hange laughs. "Levi, I hate to disappoint, but you're anything but."

"But..."

"Shush, my love," Hange reaches to his lips, leaves a quick kiss there, then returns to their previous place, to their most favorite place in the world - in Levi's arms. "Enough of it, all this talk has already exhausted me. I need a nap now."

Whether Levi needs it too or not - is of no importance for Hange. After all, it was all on him: if he didn't wish to nap and cuddle, he shouldn't have tired them out with stupid questions.

"Erm... wouldn't it be more comfortable to nap in bed?"

Hange nuzzles their nose into his shirt, widely grins. "Nope. We're staying here."

Levi sighs, but surrenders and buries his fingers into their hair, gently folding their soft brown locks. For a while, silence embraces the room around them, Hange is nearly at the edge of slumber, when-

"Hey," Levi calls. "And what about that question?"

"Huh?"

"The one you wanted to ask me."

"Ah, right," Hange yawns, then turns their head up to meet Levi's eye. "Are you happy?"

He clicks his tongue, and somehow - the sound is filled with so much fondness that Hange can't keep a smile off their face.

"Am I happy?" Levi brings them closer, presses a kiss to their temple. "What an absurd question. How can I be not, when you, four-eyes, were the one who introduced this feeling to me."

#levihan

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour.

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack.

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.” Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support.

#henry cavill #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x ofc #Henry Cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #sherlock holmes x reade #enola holmes fanfiction

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simpleserendipity · 4 years ago

Text

Best Friend of the Groom | Michael Clifford

Pairing: Michael Clifford x Reader (best friends)

Warning: some slight angst

Word count: 1,252 words

You had always been close with Michael, ever since the first day of high school when you had to sit next to each other in your math class. Ever since you’ve been inseparable.

“There you go!” The maid of honor shouted with a cheery tone as she clipped the veil into the bride’s hair. The maid of honor and other bridesmaids were wrapped up in doing their own thing, waiting for the big reveal. You zoned out nervously, watching Crystal fiddle with the veil. Although you were friends with Crystal, you weren’t as close to her friends because to be completely honest, you were only here because you're Michael’s best friend. Crystal insisted you come since you knew Michael best.

“Voila!” The make-up artist says as she finishes touching up the details, “The most beautiful bride in the world!”

“Oh stop it.” She laughs spinning around, her friends were all showering her with compliments. She turns to face you, “Do you think Michael will like it?”

“You look absolutely beautiful Crystal,” You smiled at the woman standing in front of you. She was adorned in a shining wedding dress, “Michael is so lucky.”

“Oh whatever, _____…” Crystal trails off as her friends are gushing and taking pictures. Everyone else was still running around, putting on their finishing touches.

“I mean it,” You laughed along, “You’re so good for Michael. You don’t know how good you are for him.” Crystal smiled and sat next to you.

“Thank you for being here.” She turned to face you, amongst the chatter.

“It really means a lot that you asked me to be a part of the wedding.” You smiled and Crystal opened her arms for a hug. You leaned in and closed the gap, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Of course, you’re the most important person to Michael.” She lets a sad smile cross her face.

“Oh I’m nothing,” you brush her comments off and reach for the bouquets on the table, “You’re obviously the most important woman in his life Crystal.” you laughed.

“No I don’t think you get it-“ Crystal starts only to be cut off by the maid of honor.

“Are you two ready to go?” The maid of honor asks while standing by the door.

“One minute please,” Crystal waves and the room clears out. It was just me and her left, “I don’t think you understand, I’ve accepted it.”

“Accepted what?” you looked at her shocked.

“You are and always will be the most important person in Michael’s life.” Crystal smiled weakly.

“Crystal, you’re being ridiculous.” you bit your cheek softly in fear of what she’s insinuating. “I’m not though,” Crystal shook her head, “I know he loves me and we’re going to live a lovely life together but it’s not the same. He has never looked at me like he looks at you. He would move heaven and earth for you any and every day.” “Crystal-“ She cuts you off. “Don’t say it’s not the truth. I have accepted it. I am his second choice to you always” Crystal stops to wipe the tear that was threatening to fall, “I may ‘have’ him but I’ll never ‘have’ him completely.” “Crystal...” you trailed off and looked at the ground, “I’m sorry.” The thought was gnawing away at you because of course you always noticed the lingering glances, the gestures, and how he was at your beck and call. You figured that was just him being a good best friend, you never took it more than face value, yet she had. “Don’t be.” she looks up with a smile. “Crystal, I am sorry,” you huffed, “I’m sorry you think this way.” “It’s just how it is,” Her weak smile showing, “He loves me and I love him. We’re very close but we’re never going to be as close as you two are.” “I don’t want to come in between you two.” “You aren’t,” Another tear escapes quickly, making her makeup run slightly, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to him and he’s the best thing to ever happen to me. This is how it’s always going to be.” “Crystal-“ you were cut off once more by a knock at the door. She rolls her eyes, wiping under them once more, “Now let’s get going, we have a wedding to get to.” Crystal gets up and exits the room. You follow after her, watching her head towards the ceremony. You go to follow but instead head towards the other end of the hall from the ceremony. You found the room where Michael was getting ready and without a second thought you pushed it open, “Michael…” You called as you saw him sitting on the couch beside Calum. You and Michael immediately lock eyes. Calum looks between us, “I’ll give you a minute.” Before getting up and leaving. “Are you excited?” You asked, walking over slowly. “I am,” He smiles as you sit beside him, “Can’t wait.” His eyes were locked on his lap and your eyes on him. “That sounded way too sarcastic for someone who’s about to get married,” I set a hand on his shoulder, “Come on Mike this is the happiest day of your life.” You smiled, Crystal’s words echoing in the back of my mind. “It is the happiest day of my life.” Michael reached up and put his hand on top of the hand you had on his shoulder, “Are you alright? You seem off…” He trailed off as he looked up, eyes examining your face. “Michael do you love Crystal?” You looked up to meet his eyes, “Wait… That came out wrong-” He cuts you off, “I’m marrying her aren’t I?” “I feel like that should have answered my question…” You trailed off for a minute, “But for some reason, it didn’t.” “What are you talking about _____?” Michael’s face drops, he looks almost panicked. “What Crystal said to me…” “What did she say? I’ll talk to her-” This time it’s you cutting him off, “Michael what she said isn’t about me, it’s about you.” “Oh..” His face dropped further. “Michael,” You paused not sure what to say but your heart takes over with its yearning for the truth, “Are you in love with me?” As soon as you blurted that out, you turned away from him, avoiding looking at him at all. “_____, what are you asking me?” You slowly turn back, scared to make eye contact but you do it anyway, “Are you in love with me Clifford?” “What- what would you- why would you?” Michael speaks like he’s baffled. “Crystal said-” “She’s just mad that I’m so close to you.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Michael stop,” Your tone gets more serious, “Answer me.” He looks away, avoiding your eyes. You both sit there silently, both afraid of what was said. After a few moments, you slip your hand off his shoulder and stand up. Michael’s hand falls to his lap. “I’ve gotta go…” You whispered before leaving the room. You know you shouldn’t but you couldn’t stomach being at the wedding any longer. You couldn’t stomach the fact that your best friend was in love with you and was about to get married to someone he promised to love. You didn’t want to be the reason their marriage falls through. If you love something let it go, that's what Michael did when he decided to marry someone else, and that's what you’re doing now as you walk out of his life.

#michael #michael clifford #michael 5sos #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford fic #michael clifford blurb #michael 5 seconds of summer #michael imagine #5sos imagine #5sos #5sos fic #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #calum hood #5 seconds of summer

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simphellscape · 4 years ago

Text

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2020 - 5:39PM // TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2020 - 7:08PM // next | tw: description of injury and care for injury, therapy mention, description of a panic attack

You put on a movie, you swear you did. Pretty much as soon as it starts, you realize that Kei does not have the attention span for a whole movie. That, or he’d much rather just talk to you.

When you hesitantly took your seat on the sectional at the beginning of the evening, you kept your distance. At first, he respected that, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. Then, he got up to get drinks, and he plopped back down a little closer to you. Then, he cracked a joke, and you laughed, scooting yourself a hair to the left in the process.

The take-out arrived about forty five minutes after he called them. You were surprised when he served it to you: fried chicken. You weren’t complaining, but it just seemed wrong. You were expecting a less indulgent option from such a fit guy. As you ate, your mind wandered back to his interview with the health magazine.

“Fried chicken… I was expecting something different from a pro-hero.”

“I eat healthy sometimes. I just find that I don’t really have to. High metabolism and constant exercise and all that. I also just really like fried chicken!”

As you both chuckled once again, Kei shifted just a bit closer to you. The night just went on like that until your knees were touching.

Now, the movie is long over. In fact, the TV has shut off from inactivity. You two sit, facing each other, swaddled in the same blanket. You never thought you would get this far on your first meeting with Kei, but the embarrassing stories you two are swapping back and forth have made you forget all about your preconceived notions.

“And I almost fell on my fucking face. The first time I met Endeavor of all people. I know he still remembers that shit, because he still brings it up every once in a while,” he laughs.

You’re laughing freely with him at this point. You don’t feel the need to hold back as much anymore. That knot in your stomach is nearly gone, but there is a gnawing feeling in your chest. The urge to tell embarrassing stories from your hero days. They’re funny, and you know that he would relate to them. Instead of shying away from it, you now yearn to reveal that shared thread between you. Common sense rules out, you don’t. You can’t. You decide for the millionth time that night to stick with stories from your time at the piercing shop.

Kei’s eyes flick over to your glass, now empty.

“Refill?” he asks.

You nod and hand him your cup. He sheds off his portion of the blanket cocoon and retreats to the kitchen. The absence of his warmth, the missing pressure on your kneecaps, empties you. You stare at his spot, just waiting for him to come back. You notice a wet spot on the black blanket. You can’t really tell what it is. You tentatively reach out a finger and graze against it. As you pull your finger back to your face, you recognize it immediately. Blood.

Kei waltzes back in, drink in hand. You scan his body and notice a growing stain on the side of his white t-shirt. Concern gnaws at you, taking all remaining guards down with it.

“Kei, you’re bleeding,” you blurt out, “A lot.”

He pauses and follows your eyes to the stain overtaking his shirt.

“Huh, I guess I am.”

“What happened? Let me help you.”

You fight your way out of your blanket and rush over to him.

“Got any bandages in the bathroom?” you ask.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, leading you there.

As soon as you walk in, you hone in on your task.

“Sit down on the toilet,” you instruct.

He wordlessly obeys as you search the cabinets for medical supplies. You find a small, plastic container overflowing with every first-aid product known to man in the cupboard just below his sink. You place it on top of the counter and turn to face him. He’s staring at you, in awe.

“Take your shirt off,” you order.

“Well, if you say so.”

You’re about to make a comment about his flirtatious remark when you see the source of the blood. He has a bandage over it, though it’s almost entirely red now. It was shoddily done. You know that a pro-hero can do better work than this. He tears the taped gaze off of it, grimacing. An oozing cut, stretching along his ribs, is revealed. You can tell right off the bat that simply slapping another bandage on this isn’t going to do it any good.

“You might need stitches,” you inform him, plainly.

“Aw, man, don’t make me go to the hospital.”

You have two choices here: you can ignore him and force him to get medical attention, or you can do this yourself. You received first aid training as a hero, and ended up performing a lot of minor procedures on yourself. Most heroes pick up these skills. Maybe Kei did as well, but in this spot, it’ll be impossible to do much of anything on his own.

You inspect the injury more closely and sort through the medical knowledge in your brain. You admit, you’re out of practice, but it seems as though you were right. Stitches are the best option. You’re afraid that you might blow your cover. Maybe you can risk it. You mull over bullshit excuses in your brain as you meet his firm gaze.

“Um… I know how to do it. Do you have a kit or something?”

Kei nods and points to the bucket you placed on the counter. You sigh and rifle through it, producing a clean needle and surgical thread after a moment of searching. As you turn toward the other supplies you’d dug out, the needle falls from your grip. Without thinking, you reach down and grab it midair. Of course, it’s a perfect catch. Your accuracy and reflexes never fail. You look back at Keigo, and you can tell that the gears are turning in his head.

“Nice catch,” he mutters.

You laugh nervously as you grab alcohol and a piece of gauze. You kneel next to him and soak the piece of gauze.

“This is going to sting,” you warn him.

You see him take a deep breath in and hold it as you near the cut. As soon as you make contact with it, he groans.

“I told you.”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “I know. I just forget how bad it is every time.”

You take care to saturate every part of the cut, and then you get to work. Thanks to your quirk, you are able to sew quickly. You contemplate slowing down, but you decide that saving time is more important than protecting yourself.

“How’d you learn how to do stitches, anyway? You seem to be kind of an expert,”

You gulp.

“I was in EMT school for a bit.”

Your heart starts beating faster.

“You know, I can tell when you’re lying.”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“Your heartbeat picked up. Usually means you’re lying.”

You decide not to respond. You don’t want to incriminate yourself further. You decide to pose a question of your own instead.

“How’d you get this cut?”

Thankfully, he pauses his interrogation.

“I was fighting some guy and he threw a knife at me. Was able to move out of the way just in time. If I didn’t, the thing was going straight for my chest.”

You know from experience that you can take that sort of thing into account with your quirk if you focus hard enough. You’ve had to before. You shiver.

“Good thing you moved then. You probably should have done more than slap a bandaid on it and call it good, though. I’m surprised you didn’t bleed out hours ago.”

“Look, I got in late from patrol. I wanted to be on time to pick you up! I deal with shit like this all the time. I wasn’t gonna let a little scratch get in the way of our plans tonight, are you kidding? And, to be honest, I didn’t think you were gonna stick around for this long. Not that I’m complaining.”

You can’t help but blush at this. Even though it was undoubtedly stupid to ignore a gaping wound in favor of your meeting tonight, his insistence on being punctual for it is tooth-rottingly sweet.

“You know what’s been bugging me?”

He waits for you to answer. You hum in response, still pleasantly dazed from his confession.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

You freeze, mid thread. Your mind races. All the giddiness is immediately stripped away as your heart practically beats out of your chest. This is the first time since you started leaving the house, after the press died down, that anyone has said this to you. Recover, you remind yourself.

“You saw me yesterday at the piercing shop!”

“No, I mean somewhere else. You ever been on the news or something?”

“No,” you lie.

“I just… I remember seeing your face somewhere years ago. I can’t remember for the life of me where or why though.”

You notice yourself tugging on the thread a little harder, precision never faltering. You will yourself to go faster.

“Maybe it was someone who just kinda looks like me.”

“I thought about that. Now that I’ve brought it up though, you’re lying through your teeth. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You don’t like the way he’s able to peer through you. His heightened senses must be a tremendous aid to interrogation like this. From experience, you know that this is a light, minor investigation. Just gentle prodding. You still hate that he’s doing it. The only way you were taught to avoid this is to remain calm, but lie strategically. You’ve maintained a relatively even exterior, but you can’t control your heartbeat. The gig is up. But he’s gonna have to try incredibly hard to wrestle this away from you. There’s no way you’re giving everything up this easily.

“Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “I was involved in an incident three years ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

You pray that he doesn’t continue to pry. There is, however, this tug in your chest. The shred of hopefulness left in you insists that he would understand. Ami doesn’t understand. She tries, but she can never truly know. Kei, on the other hand, has to have been in that kind of danger before. He has to know the effects it can have on a person. Maybe he’s the only person you’ve met in the last three years that can wrap their head around it.

“Have you talked about it with someone at least?”

You weren’t expecting that. You look up at him and his eyes are swimming with worry. He looks intense. He barely knows you. Is he like this with everyone?

“Yeah. I’ve got a therapist.”

“Good. How often do you see them?”

The vigilant inner defenses you’ve built over the last three years are screaming at you. He’s crumbling them with ease.

“I see her once a week. Have for a while.”

“Good. You’re really brave, you know. A lot of people don’t seek out therapy after villain attacks. It helps a lot.”

He’s got it wrong. You’re not brave.

You suddenly remember a high profile trauma specialist reaching out to you after your recovery. You declined it. Maybe if you’d accepted, you would still be in the game. Maybe, you’d be like Hawks.

“I’ve seen some shit, Sagi. By the sound of it, you have too.”

Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out of your mouth, “Yeah, we have more in common than you think.”

If your hands weren’t busy tying off the thread in Kei’s torso, you’d clap them over your mouth. You have to go. You’ve said too much. You’ve ruined this.

“What do you mean?”

His tone is lighthearted. It breaks you even more, knowing you have to leave him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He just wanted to know you. To help you. To praise you. You bite the thread just above the knot and back away from him, slowly. Your vision starts to blur, and that familiar, aching tightness in your throat starts to rise.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

You can hear him start to protest, but you’re already running. Through the haze of tears, you manage to find the front door. As you throw it open, you hear the padding of Kei’s bare feet.

“It’s late, it’s not safe to--”

“I can handle myself,” you snap.

You aren’t even really in control of your actions at this point. Everything in your body is focused on holding back the threatening tears. You aren’t in Ami’s office. It’s not safe. It’s not right.

Stop crying, you repeat to yourself, don’t cry.

You bound down the stairs.

Don’t cry.

You stumble onto the sidewalk.

Don’t cry.

You fish your phone out from your back pocket. It’s dead.

Don’t cry.

You look around hopelessly, aimlessly. Straight ahead seems like a good direction.

Don’t cry.

You start walking. Then jogging. Then running. You run until you don’t feel like crying anymore.

As you come to your senses, you realize that you have no clue where you are.

Something pricks your thumb. You open your clenched hand to see the needle you were using on Kei sitting in your clammy palm. You sink to the ground.

Don’t. Cry.

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all1e23 · 6 years ago

Text

Toasted Coconut

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Why does everything seem to fall apart faster than it came together?

Warnings: Angst.

A/N: It’s finally here! Yes, I did it. I added Johnny Storm and yes, I am using Evans Storm because I find that hilarious consider Steve is in this chapter a bit. It’s probably not as funny as I find it. But, ya know. If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me! This is the fifth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

You had insisted that you would meet Bucky at The Plaza. It’s been a bit since you laid eyes on each other, and you were nervous to see him again. Not the mention the fact that there was a slight chance Wanda and Nat would attack him the moment he arrived. It was better for everyone if you met him there. He had argued with you, of course. Bucky didn’t like meeting you there as if you were just some woman he was taking out -- a meaningless date. That really had your hackles up because that’s exactly what you were. You were just some woman he was using to pass the time until he found his wife.

Whoever that famed siren of a woman may be.

The dress Bucky had picked stole your breath when you opened the box he had delivered to your apartment. It was a pretty champagne color, with thin straps and completely covered in glitter that started heavy on the top and faded away to leave sheer fabric shimmering around your feet. The back was as low as a designer could get it without showing something entirely inappropriate. You weren’t surprised. Bucky loved your back. He liked to run his knuckles up and down your spine and feel the way you shivered from the slightest of brushes.

It was breathtaking, and yeah, you looked gorgeous. You couldn’t deny that, but you would much rather be spending the night in one of Bucky’s ratty old shirts than in this fancy gown surrounded by all these people that simply didn’t matter. Your days with Bucky were numbered, and you didn’t know how many more you would get to call him yours -- this isn’t how you wanted to spend those days.

Your heels clinked loudly on the floor and bounced off the stone walls of the ballroom. There had to be close to a thousand people gathered around cocktail tables, auction tables, and the bar. You’ve never seen a room this gorgeous before. The paintings, the sculptures within the stonework; it was beautiful and had you on edge. Your nerves were finally making their presence known the further you made it through the crowd. You felt out of place next to all these people. They were worth millions, some billions if you counted Stark. You undoubtedly didn’t belong here, no matter how much sparkle you were wearing.

The crowd was massive. No sign of Bucky or Steve. You thought you caught a glimpse of Sam, but it turned out to be someone you didn’t know. You were beginning to think this was all a mistake, and you should find your way to the bar. Bucky would have to find you there eventually. Or maybe, you should go simply go home.

A roughened hand pressed on to the small of your back sending all your thoughts haywire, fingertips brushed under the fabric of your gown teasing the sensitive skin hidden there for only a moment, and there was a scratch of stubble against your neck before you felt two soft lips land just below your ear. Everything you were feeling about not being enough melted the second you heard his voice.

“You look…” Bucky groaned in your ear and slid his hand around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. “You’re way too gorgeous to actually be mine. Let’s skip this whole damn thing. I change my mind. I’d rather take you home and make love to you for the rest of the night.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought, and it reminded you there was something you should be doing, Tell him you know! Let him explain for himself! You weren’t listening. The damage had been done, and no explanation would fix the hurt his words caused. You slowly spun around in his grasp and wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling widely when you spot the excitement sparkling in his eyes. He looked so excited to see you as if you were the best thing in the room.

How was he so good at faking his feelings for you?

“I am fairly certain you told me you had to come and had to make at least three bids before I could let you leave. As well as make sure you were seen by all the big, important people here.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t prepared for this baby…” Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, eyes trained on yours. “I don’t think I can concentrate when you look this good.”

You laughed and gave him a slow teasing kiss, just barely brushing against his lips and whispered. “You picked out the dress.”

“I’m a masochist. Clearly.”

With your arm hooked in his, you pulled him towards the table where Steve and Sharon were resting, talking Sam. Bucky didn’t want to talk, though. You knew that by the way, he was pawing at your dress as discreetly as one can while maneuvering through a sea of New York’s finest.

Bucky had left your side for what was supposed to be a short chat with someone about some rehabilitation project in Queens, nearly the second you arrived at the table. The talk was longer than he intended, and he proceeded to get snatched up by important person after important person. Bucky flashed you an apologetic smile as an older gentleman ushered him towards a work of art, and you could see the want in his eyes hidden behind all that frustration. He didn’t want to be there, but it was part of his job. A big part. You could keep yourself entertained while he worked. You wandered off towards the bar and settled on a stool that probably cost more than the couch in your living room.

A sharp whistle hits your ears as you deciding what to order, and it had you turning your head to find the source. You expected to see Sam standing there ready to tease you, but instead, you found a strange man you didn’t know watching you with interest. His hair was buzzed so short you could nearly see his scalp, he was younger than most of the people in the room. You would have guessed close to your age, if not, only a few years older -- much closer to your age than your current beau.

“That’s a hell of a dress you got on tonight, beautiful.”

He gave you a charming smirk and leaned his elbow on the bar next to you. He was obviously trying to tease you, gain a bit of your desire, and judging by the smug smile on his face, he wasn’t used to having to work very hard to make women swoon over him. You were not interested in the least, but you should at least make conversation while you wait for the man you were engaged with.

“Nice suit.”

“Nice suit? Nice?” The stranger squawked in disbelief. He ran his hands over his jacket, looking every bit a pained, entitled schoolboy, and for some reason, you couldn’t figure out you found it entirely adorable. He glanced down at his attire and back to you, whispering with on full pout, “This is Gucci.”

You chuckled quietly and shook your head, wearing a small conciliatory smile as you shrug. “My boyfriend’s suit is a lot nicer is all I’m saying.”

Okay, so Bucky wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your… whatever he was, but Bucky was, in fact, still yours, and you were always going to be his. For now. You weren’t going to flirt with some guy that threw you a cheesy line while you were on a date with the man you… love. There you admitted it. Your heart and head can shut up now and leave you to fall apart in peace.

The man licked his lips and leaned both elbows on the bar next to you. “Boyfriend, huh? That your subtle way of telling me I’m wasting my time?”

Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd looking for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found.

“In a sense, you are. I’m taken.”

“By tall, dark, and broody?”

You grinned.

“Yes, by tall, dark, and broody.” For as long as he wants me anyway, you couldn’t help the bitter thought from filling your head.

“Interesting.”

“So…” You raised your brow, waiting for him to introduce himself before you carried on.

“Johnny. Johnny Storm.”

“Johnny,” You repeated and smiled kindly, too kindly. “You saw me with my boyfriend and thought it would be a good idea to come over and talk to me?”

“Well…” Johnny paused, waiting for you.

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” He repeated with the same charming smile he wore earlier. “You looked lonely, and if I'm honest, I saw you the second you walked through the door. Pretty sure everyone did. It was way before I saw the two of you together. I just wanted to see if I could keep you company and maybe get a real smile out of you before the night over.”

The smile on your face faltered only a fraction, and your heart twisted at his words. He was right. You didn’t have to see your face to know you have that look on your face. You’ve had it since Boston, and nothing seemed to make it go away. The only person that could fix it was Bucky, but he wasn’t interested in doing so.

“Okay, how about this? What if I sit down right here.” Johnny pointed to the stool in front of him and slowly sat down, leaving an empty seat between you two. “I can keep you company until Prince Grumpy comes back to whisk you off your feet.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. It wasn’t a good idea. Spending time with Johnny only made you yearn for Bucky that much more.

“I’m getting two glasses of champagne,” Johnny added with a grin. “One could be for you. It matches the sparkle you’re wearing so damn well.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted over to the empty stool.

“You’re not impressing me, you know? It’s an open bar.”

Johnny threw his head back, his whole body shaking from laughter. You liked that. He was free with whatever he was feeling. It was right there, out in the open, and there was no room for guessing. It was merely a given. Two glasses were placed in front of you, and you grabbed one, sliding it in place in front of you.

“Damn.” He wheezed quietly. “ I didn’t think you knew that. Totally thought I was suave. Your boyfriend already try that one on you?”

“Nope. He doesn’t need all that to get my attention.”

Johnny winced and blew out a pained breath, his fingers were fidgeting around the stem of the champagne glass in his hands, and he muttered, a little defeated but attempting to keep hope floating, “Man, I’ve got no chance, do I?”

You spun around on your stool to face him, You were grinning now, and you shrugged your shoulders casual like. Why were you holding back from talking to this cute guy again? Bucky doesn’t want you. He made that clear in Boston. He didn’t see a future with you, so why were you turning away someone who could see you for more than something temporary? You knew, deep down, this Johnny guy didn’t stand a chance next to Bucky, but it was nice to know when Bucky was through with you, someone else could see you and still want you.

“Not really, but I didn’t take you as someone who backs down from a challenge.”

He watched you for a second, taking you in now that you were up close and fully facing him. He finally shook his head, took a big swig of from his glass, and said, “Not usually. This isn’t a challenge I can win, though. Now, is it?”

Your smile fell a bit as you turned back around to face the bartender, and you muttered against the glass pressed to your lips, “No, it’s really not.”

A few tables over Bucky was adjusting his bow tie, aggressively. He wanted out of the damn thing, and he wanted to find you, which was evident to everyone around him by his constant fidgeting.

“Where is your gal?” Steve pushed with that stupid dopy grin.

Bucky honestly had no idea where you had gotten off to. He had to make the rounds mingle with people he would rather not, and in the midst of it all, he lost you. It looked like you had made your way towards the bar through the sea of stiff suits and chiffon so he could start there and work his way around the room.

“I don’t know, Stevie.” He patted the taller man's shoulder. “I’m gonna go find out, ya?”

He navigated his way through the crowd, making a hard left when he heard Stark’s loud obnoxious rambling about what was art and what was not. It was bad enough he had to come to this damn thing and bid on art he wasn’t going to hang up, but no one was going to tell him what crappy art he could or could not bid on. Someone called his name, and he turned back to give them a quick handshake and a ‘how ya doing.’ Bucky spun back around, and his heart dropped when he spotted you, fell right out of his chest, and dropped to his feet. You were laughing, harder than he’s seen in a long time, and it was thanks to the young guy next to you.

Bucky waited too long. He should have said something in Boston or before he loved you, but it was all too late now.

---------------

It took Bucky a long time to find you at the bar, which you thought was strange. He should know by now at events like that you always go to the bar when you get separated, but by the tension in his shoulders, you assumed something happened with a client or with Tony Stark. Tony tended to hit all the right buttons where Bucky was concerned, or that was what Steve told you. It wasn’t long after you found each other that Bucky asking if you were ready to leave, assuming he meant back to his place you readily agreed. The drive was silent, and he didn’t take you back to his penthouse, he dove you out to Brooklyn to your apartment. It wasn’t uncommon to spend nights at your place, but with The Plaza being so close to his, you thought that’s where you would spend the night.

You guessed wrong.

Bucky quietly walked you up to your door and stood a few steps back, waiting for you to unlock it. The door swung open to the dark apartment, and you immediately began to remove your heels before you even stepped through the door. Bucky watched from the hallway as you stepped out of your heels, letting them hang off your fingers by the tiny ankle strap. You turned to look at him, sultry smile in place. “Are you going to come in so I can thank you for tonight?”

You couldn’t read his expression, but it was one you’ve never seen on his face, not while he was looking at you. You didn’t know what happened tonight, but it was almost if he didn’t want to come in -- he didn’t want you.

"Not tonight, doll. I have an early day tomorrow. I should get home.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, the same way he would Sharon, and it left you... confused, heartbroken, and frankly a little discouraged. You knew he could read the confusion clouding your eyes and the slight disappointment you were emitting, but he made no effort to explain his actions. He simply carried on his way as if he had already given you a proper goodbye.

“Should I come by for dinner tomorrow?” You squeaked, finding yourself on unfamiliar ground, you were nervous to ask him for the first time since you’ve known him -- not because you thought he would be mad at you for speaking up but because you feared the answer would be no.

“I can meet you at your place after you get off.”

Bucky stopped halfway down the hallway, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his dress pants. He looked up at the crack in the ceiling as if he was asking the Gods for something or waiting for some mysterious answer to fall through the crevice. He never turned back around to look at you, but he did turn his head to the side so you could catch a glimpse of the darkened blue now shading his eyes. His reply cut deeper than his refusal to face you.

“I don't know. It’s going to be a hectic day. I may not have time for dinner. I’ll give you a call tomorrow if I have time, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered feebly. “Okay.”

You watched as Bucky made his way down the stairs because the elevator in your building was out again. He never looked back. You shut the door once you could no longer see him and dropped your two hundred dollar shoes on the floor by the door. The cold wood of the door hitting your back made you shiver as you slid down to the floor, ruining your dress, you were sure. Not that you cared about the damn gown or the stupid shoes. If you had recognized what tonight was, you would have relished in his touch, taken more kisses than given, and begged for sweeter whispers.

You hadn’t realized this was his goodbye. If you had known, you would have loved him a little harder, not to change his mind, but to give you one more sweet memory to live in.

The memories you had would have to do because it seemed as though your number was up. Bucky just didn’t know how to tell you.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x you #sugar daddy!bucky #sugardaddy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x yn #bucky x reader #alternate universe #sugar daddy AU #sugary sweet series

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apparentlynotreallyfinnish · 6 years ago

Text

Strawberry Wine

This was prompted by my lovely, mythical friend Ross ( @mythical-ross ).

—

Rhett shifted in his seat as the interviewer and his small crew were setting up around them. Rhett’s back was aching from sitting too long on the uncomfortable couch, and the hunger that has been gnawing at his insides for a while now had just audibly announced itself to the room. Jenna seemed to notice Rhett’s discomfort because she got up and walked to him. She leaned down to brush off invisible lint from his shoulder and whispered, “This is the last one.”

Rhett gave her a small grateful smile and trained his attention to the interviewer. He was a young guy, probably in his early twenties. Rhett had already forgotten where the guy had said he was from but by his appearance, Rhett could guess it was some kind of a website – something young and hip and trendy. Exactly the type of site they wanted writing about Bleak Creek.

“Okay, you guys ready to start?” the interviewer asked. Rhett glanced at Link, whose smile was wide but tight around the edges – he was tired too.

“Let’s go,” Rhett said jovially as Link nodded in agreement.

The interviewer launched into his intro with way too much energy for Rhett’s liking. The questions were all boilerplate – stuff they’d already answered dozens if not hundreds of times during the press tour of Bleak Creek. In a way Rhett is thankful. The answers flowed out of him without much effort, and the carefully rehearsed give and take with Link shone brightly despite their weariness.

“Okay. Great! One more thing I wanted to talk to you about. Actually, it’s something I wanted to show you. Our researchers found an interesting video. Here, let me…” the guy said, setting up a laptop in front of them. He looked almost giddy, and Rhett frowned wondering which of their videos could garner that strong of a reaction.

A blurry image of a guy with a guitar filled the screen. Rhett stared at it for a beat, confused. It was clearly him, but it wasn’t any of their usual sets. He looked so young with his cropped hair and barely bearded face.

“What’s this?” Link asked, curiously leaning towards the laptop.

“Our researchers found a deleted Myspace page saved up on one of those vault sites. It appears to be Rhett’s, yes?” he asked looking at Rhett expectantly. Rhett nodded slowly as the image started to move. Young Rhett was strumming the guitar. There was a chill creeping inside Rhett now, making him weak and a bit nauseous. This couldn’t be…

“Really?” Link asked with a crooked smile, glancing at Rhett. “I didn’t know you had a Myspace page.”

Young Rhett was singing but no sound came from the laptop. The interviewer cursed and his hand shot to turn up the volume.

No! Oh, no. No, no, no.

Rhett was trying to make his limbs move. He waited for his fight or flight response to kick in, but he was stuck inside his immobile body, staring at the screen. He needed to shut this down before –

“…of his eyes. Lips red and moon kissed…” young Rhett sang from the laptop speakers. His voice was shaky but deep and full of emotion. Present Rhett was still frozen in place. His heart was thrumming in his ears and he wondered if you could faint from panic.

“…made me so weak, but it was the blue that got me, and threw me into the deep. And I wished he was mine, that night we –“

The video stopped. Rhett felt numb as he stared at Link’s long, slender fingers on the space bar.

“Oh, this one!” Link said as if he knew what he was talking about. “God, Rhett, you really didn’t know how to use your voice back then,” Link said with an affable laughter, playfully nudging Rhett’s side. Even as confused and panicked as Rhett felt, he realized that Link was trying to save him. He forced out a laugh that sounded more like a hoarse cackle.

The interviewer was watching them like a hawk and Rhett saw his hand move towards the laptop. Finally, Rhett’s self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he slammed the laptop closed. The interviewer almost got his hand caught inside it and jerked back. Rhett smiled at him, trying to look playful, but feared that his expression was probably more on the manic side. He coughed and let out a measured chuckle.

“Well, that was a blast from the past. Yeah, a friend of ours wanted to surprise her boyfriend with a song. But she wasn’t much of a composer, so Link and I helped her with that. She wrote the lyrics.”

“Oh,” the interviewer said, his face falling. “So, this was not about–?”

“You know what?” Link interrupted him. “I think Sarah is still with the guy.”

“Really? That’s nice. Good for her. They were a lovely couple,” Rhett mused.

“Okay. Well, I guess, that’s all…” the interviewer barely got out before Rhett was already getting up and with a hasty goodbye rushed to the door. Link followed close behind him as they left the conference room the hotel had provided for them. Jenna could barely keep up with them as they strode to the elevators.

Rhett was stealing glances at Link all the way up to their floor, wondering if he’d heard enough to know. If he’d made the connection. If he finally knew. But Link was closed off, no emotion showing on his face. A slight twitch at the corner of his lips was the only thing Rhett could see, but it told him nothing.

When the elevator doors opened, Link walked past Rhett, colliding with Rhett’s side with surprising force. Rhett was pushed aside by him and had to rub his arm that had gotten a sharp jab from Link’s elbow. There was no apology and the panic Rhett had felt when the video started playing gripped him again.

“Do you want me to order you guys some dinner?” Jenna asked as she followed Link out of the elevator. She’d been looking at her phone and missed Link’s strangely violent departure.

“Ummm. I think we’ll just order some room service and head to bed. Long day,” Rhett mumbled, distracted by his pounding heart and Link’s receding back.

“Okay. See you tomorrow,” Jenna chirped and turned the other way to head to her room.

Link was already inside their room when Rhett reached the open door. He followed in gingerly. Link was standing at the far end of the room, trying to get his jean jacket off with angry tugs. His whole body was strung tight – muscles tense and posture abnormally straight. He was about to go off. Rhett could see it clear as day.

Link knew.

Rhett’s knees almost bucked and with shaky legs, he sat on the edge of his bad. There was no other explanation. Link had realized who the song was about. Rhett pushed his hands against his thighs, trying to rid the sticky sweat that was gathering on his palms.

“Link, I – I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I…” he started. Link whipped around. His mouth was a tight line and his eyes blazed with anger.

“I can’t – I just can’t believe it! How long have you…? All these years… And to find out like that!“ Link’s voice was rising and there was a shrill edge to it.

“I should’ve told you. I know that. But you gotta understand… The way we were raised – You know how it was back then. And you… You were so – I thought if I told you…”

“You’re my best friend! You have been that for the past thirty-five years! You honestly thought you couldn’t confide in me?! I – Fuck, Rhett. I don’t even know… Who are you?” Link whispered, voice cracking. Rhett got up and stepped towards him.

Link threw his jacket on the floor with a thud, covered his mouth with his hand and rushed past Rhett, pushing him out of the way.

“I’m sorry! I am. But I thought – Link, please wait. Let me explain!” Rhett called after him. Link stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His posture was hunched and his whole body trembled as a sob ripped its way out of him.

“Who was it?” His voice was barely a whisper, and Rhett was sure he’d heard him wrong.

“What?”

“Who was it?” Link repeated, louder, turning around and staring at Rhett with a pained expression. “Who was the guy with the moon kissed lips? Did you – ?” Link’s voice cracked and his eyes slipped closed. “Did you just kiss him or was there more?”

Rhett stared at Link, mouth hanging open. Link thought…

“No. Wait, Link, no! I wasn’t – there wasn’t…”

“Just tell me. Was it someone I know? I need to know.”

“Please sit down.”

Link still stood at the door, eyes closed, trembling. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“I will,” Rhett promised. “Just sit down”

Link moved slowly, dragging his feet, avoiding Rhett’s gaze and sat on his bed. Rhett took a deep breath and grabbed his guitar.

“What are you –?” Link tried to ask but Rhett silenced him with a hand gesture.

“Just listen.” He strummed the guitar, trying to remember the chords. The lyrics were etched into his mind. He would have no trouble remembering those. That stupid song. Why had he ever uploaded it into the internet was still beyond him. Link shifted on the bed, opening his mouth, about to say something but when Rhett began to sing he fell silent and listened.

“It was like ice burning

In the dead of the night

It was the blue that made me fall

The blue of his eyes

Lips red and moon kissed

Made me so weak

But it was the blue that got me

And threw me into the deep

And I wished – oh how I wished

He was mine

That night we drank

Our strawberry wine

You said it had a bite

That it burned oh, so bright

I laughed and agreed

But, baby, I lied

Because no amount of wine

Could match the burn

Of my wish, oh how I yearn

That one day

You could be mine

After that night

All I wished from my life

Was that one day

You would be mine

The blue of his eyes still burns

Oh so bright.

Years have gone by

And I’m still by his side

Even though he’s not mine

The torch that I carry

Still has a flame as bright

As it was that night

And baby,

I still wish you were mine

Just like that night

When we drank

The bottle of sweet

Strawberry wine”

Rhett settled his palm over the strings of the guitar to silence it and slowly lifted his gaze to Link.

“Oh,” Link whispered, lips parted and eyes round.

“Yeah.”

Link got up and walked to the huge picture window showcasing a view of the city lights. Rhett put away the guitar and sat back down on his bed. He tried to find words. Something to say, to explain. But what else was there to say? Nothing. Now Link knew, and Rhett just had to deal with whatever the consequences would be.

The silence stretched and Rhett got lost in his memories. When Link finally spoke, it jarred Rhett into the present, making him jump and kick-starting his heart into an anxious flutter.

“The wine was horrible,” Link said. Rhett chuckled.

“It was.”

“I almost kissed you that night.”

Rhett’s heart missed a beat.

“What?” He’d gotten up without realizing it. Link’s back was still turned. Rhett walked up to him and with trembling hand pulled on his arm to make him turn.

“Please, say that again,” Rhett whispered. Link still refused to look at him, his gaze firmly trained on the burgundy carpet of the hotel room.

“I’d wanted to, for years. And I almost did. But…” He finally lifted his gaze and looked Rhett in the eyes.

“But?” Rhett coaxed him on.

“I was a coward. I was afraid of rejection… Of losing you. I –” Link’s voice broke and he turned his face away again. Rhett gently grabbed his chin and lifted it up. Link’s eyes were glistening with a film of tears and he gave Rhett a small, apologetic smile. One lone tear spilled over and rolled down his cheek. Rhett brushed it away and with a trembling voice said:

“We were both cowards.”

Rhett cupped Link’s cheek and his thumb slowly brushed along Link’s lower lip. Link’s lips parted and he let out a stuttering gasp. Rhett wondered if the beating of Link’s heart was as wild as his was. They stood close, bodies almost touching. Link closed his eyes for a beat and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, their icy flare almost burned a hole into Rhett’s stomach.

“I’m not a coward anymore,” Link whispered before grabbing Rhett’s collar and rising on his tiptoes.

And as their lips met for the first time, Rhett could have sworn that there was a faint taste of strawberry wine.

#rhink #rhink ficlet #Appa writes fic #prompted ficlet #angst and fluff #and one badly written song #(be kind. I've haven't written lyrics before)#Ross! I hope you like it

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archadianskies · 5 years ago

Note

people keep teasing us about being a couple so we come up with a plan to fake date and have a fake breakup so they’ll feel awkward and leave us alone, OR, my ex is an asshole and I really don't want them to think I'm still in love (Simon/RK900, unless you've got someone else in mind!)

「 hold me, til i’m not lonely anymore 」 → on Ao3

The thing about those long days and nights in Jericho before Markus’ arrival is that hopelessness makes any relationship seem positive. Bonding out of desperation and survival seemed the right thing, the perfectly normal thing, to do at the time to soothe his abandonment issues and incessant craving for validation and affection.

It had started off as a healthy relationship- a broken runaway PL600 and a discarded AX700, two domestics with no family to care for but each other. They had found solace together, and the cold dreary nights in the rotting freighter seemed just a little warmer. But Gideon was possessive, fiercely so, and detested Markus’ pacifist ways even though for the first time it seemed Jericho meant something, and had purpose and direction. Even as Simon quietly pined and yearned for Markus’ eloquence and easy affection and gentle demeanour, he stayed by Gideon’s side.

The possessiveness doesn’t stop after they win the revolution, and though they’re now recognised as living, sentient beings Simon still feels like he’s no more than an object owned by another. Gideon wants to make all the decisions, plans where they are to live and what’s to fill their apartment and how much time Simon is allotted to spend at Jericho. He is a broken runaway PL600, and so one quiet unassuming afternoon when Gideon is on a supply run with his team, Simon simply packs up his favourite jumper and a spare packet of thirium and runs away.

He hops from place to place, from the sprawling, colourful Manfred Manor to Josh’s quiet little apartment crammed with books, to North’s haphazard, eclectic Eden commune. They are his friends, they remind him, and they welcome his company even if Simon feels like he’s intruding into their organised lives.

To combat the ache for companionship, Simon throws himself into work; there is much to do now they are legally Alive. Without Gideon planning every moment of his life, Simon helps out as much as he can. When Markus informs them of the DPD requesting an android liaison to ensure open communication between Jericho and the police, Simon volunteers.

He knows Connor well now, knows the deviant hunter turned deviant is blossoming as an individual. He has likes and dislikes, a friendly, open personality and an eagerness to help. He also has a family now- a human father, a dog, and an android brother.

“Simon this is my RK900 brother, Ronan.” Connor introduces them, and Simon takes in the looming figure who looks like Connor but not quite.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ronan.” They shake hands and his grip is as firm as Simon expects an upgraded RK800 to be.

“It is an honour to meet you, Simon of the Jericho Four.” He replies with a nod, all crisp received pronunciation; a polished British accent is not on the list of things Simon expects though somehow it suits the tall, handsome not-RK800.

Gideon confronts him one unassuming afternoon when he is supposed to be on a supply run but isn’t.

“You left so suddenly.” There’s anger and betrayal in his eyes.

“I did.” Simon nods.

“It’s supposed to be us against the world!” He steps forward and Simon steps back. “All those days and nights in Jericho, hoping and waiting for a world where we’d be free and here we are! Why did you leave?”

“I too am alive, Gideon.” Simon replies slowly, unable to quell the sick anxiety rising in his core. “You don’t own me, or my time.”

“I’m the upgraded android,” he sighs heavily and he’s using the patient tone programmed into domestics when talking to children. “I can make the better decisions for us, Simon. You’re an obsolete android with an inferior processing core but I love you all the same. It’s alright, I understand it’s very overwhelming for you now we have many more freedoms than before. I can wait patiently for you to come to your senses. You’ll always have a place in my hearts, and in my life.”

Androids don’t need to shower but Gideon’s words make him feel grimy, as if there’s a layer of filth contaminating his dermal layer and he must wash it off. Gideon’s words play over and over in his mind and Josh worries over his red LED when Simon appears in his apartment to bunk down for the night. Josh wraps him in a blanket and loans him another sweater from his ever growing collection of gifted sweaters, and Simon’s LED slowly cycles yellow.

*~*

“You are distracted.” Ronan comments as Simon stares blankly at the tablet in his hands.

“Hm?”

“I said,” there’s the barest hint of a smile on his lips, “you are distracted.”

“Oh um.” Simon ducks his head sheepishly. “Yes. Sorry. I um- just…an old acquaintance reared up recently and we parted on not-so-nice terms.”

“Are they a danger to you?” Ronan’s voice loses all its mirth, his expression turning serious and Simon thinks he loves him a little for it.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s not dangerous, he’s just very…stubborn.” Possessive, Simon wants to say but he doesn’t really want to say it. “We exchanged some words and I’m going to keep my distance.”

“It’s getting late.” Ronan glances outside. “I will walk you home.”

“Oh I-” I don’t have a home. “I’m staying at Josh’s tonight. We’re working on a speech draft together.”

“Then I will walk you to Professor Joshua’s apartment.” He says it so matter-of-factly Simon can’t help but smile.

“Thank you Ronan.”

Gideon finds him two days later when he’s at the creche visiting David, the sole YK500 who made it to and survived Jericho.

“Are you ready to come home?” Gideon asks, and his voice is soft and gentle the way Simon used to love. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not going back to you.” Simon says curtly, stepping away from the children so they’re out of earshot. “I don’t want to go back to your home, I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Ah, still thinking it over.” Gideon sighs, his smile placating and Simon hates it, oh he hates it so much. “That’s alright. I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait forever, then, because I won’t go back to you.” Simon feels the anger burn in his core and he wants to grab him by the shoulders and shout until he leaves but he doesn’t do that because the children are here and the children deserve not to hear raised angry voices.

“Take your time, my love.” He reaches forward and brushes back a lock of hair from Simon’s face and Simon bites his lip so as not to flinch.

“Here.” Ronan offers him a soft navy blue scarf that had been wrapped around his neck but a moment ago. “Your hands are shaking. It is common for PL600s to suffer malfunctions in their temperature regulators. Please wear this to help stabilise your internal heat.”

Simon accepts the scarf with a nod and wraps it around his neck and closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of clean knitted wool. He doesn’t want to correct Ronan, doesn’t want to tell him his hands are shaking because of his encounter with Gideon earlier that day and not because of the cold.

“There’s an integrated cafe closeby, it’s where most of the precinct go to get their hot beverages.” Ronan gestures ahead. “The interior is kept at a pleasant temperature. Shall we have our meeting there?”

“Yes please.” Simon mumbles into the scarf, nodding to doubly confirm. He doesn’t want to think about Gideon, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that small black spot, that gnawing, growing fear for his safety that actually, Gideon might be dangerous after all.

*~*

The Manfred manor is wonderfully distracting with its eccentric style as eccentric as its owner. Carl Manfred’s abode is crammed with art in many forms, and the bursts of colour against the warm tones make the place feel homely and welcoming and exciting. Simon loves staying over, even if he hasn’t quite mastered how to hide his pining for Markus.

“Listen, as a big fan of your cooking I know for a fact that’s absolutely delicious,” Leo pipes up, “but I’m not sure you can actually drink that.”

Simon blinks, looking at the mug in his hands and belatedly realising it’s Leo’s hot chocolate and not his mug of thirium.

“Oh, sorry Leo!” He swaps the mugs and sighs tiredly.

“You’re super stressed. Your LED’s been red the whole time. What’s up, Simon?” Leo sets his laptop on the coffee table and scoots closer on the couch. “You alright?”

There’s no harm in telling Leo, Simon reasons with himself, since he’s not a part of Jericho and he’s not even an android.

“My…ex is…clingy.” Forcing the words out is harder than he thinks, and he buries his face in his hands, unable to even look at his human friend.

“Clingy? Yikes, sorry Simon.” Leo offers a sympathetic grin. “They still don’t get the message?”

“I’ve told him flat out that I won’t go back to him but he’s insisting I just need to think things through.” Simon sips idly at his drink, taking comfort in the heat it provides. “I don’t need to think about it any further- we’re over. I’m not in love with him anymore and I hate that he thinks it’s somehow his decision to make!”

“Wait, Simon, is he-” Leo’s tone changes, and it reminds him of Ronan’s protective tone. “Is he bothering you? Like, stalking you? Threatening you?”

“Well, I mean he’s not-” a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know what to say to him to convince him to let me go! Not- not physically! Just- the idea of me, the idea of us still in a relationship. He needs to let that go!”

“Say you’ve found someone else. You’ve moved on and so should he.” Leo suggests and Simon slumps down further.

“Leo, he’s a part of Jericho. He’d just find out I made it up.” Simon closes his eyes, feeling the fight drain out of him. “And I hate that some nights I miss him. Or, well, more that I miss being with someone and being loved.”

“You’re better off without him, he sounds gross.”

“I know.” He thinks back to the early stages of Jericho, to those long cold nights wrapped in Gideon’s arms and how the future seemed a little less bleak. Then he thinks of Gideon’s anger, Gideon’s patronising words, and suddenly those memories seem less sweet and more sour.

“I mean, I’d say pretend to date Markus but my brother is blissfully oblivious and completely ditzy when it comes to all that.” Leo grins as Simon shoots him a warning glare. “Anyway he’d be a downgrade. You’re absolutely wonderful- no I won’t accept your protests, you are, Simon, I mean it. You deserve someone super cool who will love you and keep you safe and my brother is not that.” A pause, his grin turning cheeky. “Pretend to date one of the Andersons. They’re plenty cool.”

He knows Leo’s teasing him, and it works because he lets out a helpless laugh and even a few days later just thinking about their exchange makes him smile to himself.

“Hello darling.” Gideon’s voice interrupts his fond musing, and Simon’s smile vanishes instantly. “It’s been two weeks now, are you ready to come home?”

“What part of ‘no’ do you not understand, Gideon?” Simon demands, exasperated.

“Look, I know you’re still finding your feet, it’s okay! I told you I’m patient.” He tries to soothe, palms bared in a calming gesture.

“My feet are firmly planted, thank you very much!” Simon spits, and he is fuming. “I’ve already told you, more than once, that I’m not going back to you!”

“Simon, think about this critically.” Gideon sighs as if he’s been put upon. “You’re a PL600, we’re made for each other. Who will love you if I don’t?”

It feels like Gideon’s reached over and yanked his heart regulator out, and Simon’s struck by how awful, how absolutely awful he feels as those words seep into his core and spread through every cable, every fibre in his body. Plenty, he wants to scream, plenty of people love me, the love of friends is no less than the love of a partner!

“I’m already seeing someone else.” Simon forces through gritted teeth. “I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

“Oh yeah?” Gideon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And who’s the guy, Simon? Who’s willing to love a broken, obsolete PL600 if not me?”

“Ronan Anderson.” He clenches his hands into fists, willing himself to be brave, to not back down. “He’s an RK900, with processing capabilities far superior to yours. I’ve upgraded, Gideon. I’m not settling for a lesser model.” Without waiting for a reply, he pivots and strides away even though it feels like his knees will buckle at any moment. It feels like a victory but he knows it isn’t, it isn’t at all.

“Your stress levels, by the way, are astronomical.” North pokes his LED from where she’s lounging on his lap. “What’s up, Si?”

They’re sitting in a common room piled with cushions and beanbags and blankets, in a condominium rising from the ashes of the Eden Club. It’s populated by North’s brothers and sisters, those seeking refuge from their lifetime of abuse. Not many non WR400s and HR400s are permitted inside but Simon’s one of them. It must be a PL600 thing, Simon thinks, to appear so docile and hapless and helpless and the furthest thing from a threat.

“Si?” North prompts, sitting up and cupping his cheek with her palm. “Hey, c’mon. Look at me.”

“Um-” he takes a shaky breath. “Just…bad breakup, that’s all. Clingy ex, but I think I got rid of him for good.”

“I can kill him for you.” North shrugs, and though her tone is light Simon doesn’t doubt she’d keep her word. It’s why he loves her.

“I don’t think it needs to come to that.” He manages a short laugh, shifting to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her soft strawberry blonde hair.

“If it does, I’ll kill him.” Her tone is deadly serious, just like Leo’s had been, just like Ronan’s had been and it makes his hearts ache in a good, good way.

“I know.” He huffs a not-laugh, squeezing her close. “Thank you.”

*~*

It’s been a week since he last saw Gideon and work has kept him busy enough not to dwell on it. With Christmas on the horizon and Detroit’s humans slowly settling back into their lives albeit alongside their newly appointed, newly legal fellow android citizens, the DPD are run off their feet. By extension that means Simon is too, but he welcomes the never ending list of tasks.

He spends more and more time at the precinct speaking on behalf of Jericho and ensuring both sides are kept updated with current events whether it be the status of yet another bill Markus is fighting for, or the progress on any one of the numerous open cases worked on by Lieutenant Anderson and his sons.

“Tearium, Simon.” Ronan announces softly as he sets the tall takeaway cup on their shared desk. “Ms Essie says it’s their new milk tea flavour.”

“Thank you Ronan.” Simon smiles tiredly as he takes the cup and carefully takes a sip. The coding spreads on his tongue, sweet and creamy and soothing. He closes his eyes to savour it and sighs in relief.

“Connor’s just waiting for Captain Fowler to sign off on the report and then we’ll be done.” Ronan takes his seat opposite him. “Shall I walk you home?”

“You can walk me to my taxi at the curb.” Simon corrects. “I’ll be heading to the Manfreds after this.”

“Good.” Ronan nods, seemingly pleased with the information. “Carl Manfred has a state of the art temperature stabiliser in his home, and it’s forecast to snow overnight.”

“You really don’t need to worry about me, Ronan.” He mumbles into his Tearium, feeling ever the burden.

“Perhaps. But I do anyway.” There’s something soft in his voice, in the small upward tilt of his lips. “I think we’re permitted to worry over those we care for deeply.”

“Signed!” Connor declares, and the moment is gone as he brandishes the tablet. “Report approved and logged. Time to go home!” He skips down the scant steps from Captain Fowler’s office, placing the tablet on his table and snatching up his coat from the back of his chair. “Shall we drop you off somewhere, Simon?”

“I’ll be catching a cab to the Manfreds, thank you for the offer though, Connor.” Simon declines politely, pulling on his coat and retrieving his half finished drink. He waves goodbye to Miss Stephanie, the ST300 receptionist, on their way out.

“Oh, it’s snowing already.” Connor holds up his palm, watching the snowflakes flutter down. “Is your cab far away?”

“Shouldn’t be too far now.” Simon looks down the road.

“Connor, you head home first. Sumo will need his evening walk before the snowfall becomes heavier.” Ronan opens an umbrella and steps beside Simon, holding it over the both of them. “I’ll keep Simon company and see him home safely.”

They exchange a look Simon can’t quite decipher, a probable conversation he’s not privy to, but it ends with Connor grinning one of his puppylike grins and Ronan ducking his head suddenly and averting his eyes. The older Anderson brother takes his leave and then it’s just Ronan standing very close at his side as the snow falls around them.

Simon sips at his tea, sneaking the RK900 furtive glances and trying not to think about how very handsome he is and how he’s actually rather funny and far more gentle and kind than his false reputation dictates. He tries not to think of how much he wants his parting words to Gideon to be a reality and not just a lie spit out of spite.

In a way Gideon is right- who would love Simon, not as a friend but as a partner when he is so broken and obsolete? Certainly not a one of a kind Kamski creation, the saviour of their kind and leader of their revolution. Certainly not the most cutting edge, state of the art android honed like a blade by CyberLife.

“Have a safe trip to the Manfreds, Simon, and goodnight.” Ronan’s voice cuts through his wallowing as the cab tucks itself neatly at the curb. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” For the Tearium, for the umbrella, for waiting, for being patient and humoring him, Simon wants to say. But he doesn’t, and Ronan closes the door and watches him drive off until the cab turns the corner and is out of sight.

Deciding to return the favour the next day doesn’t seem quite fair, and Simon can’t bring himself to buy just one Tearium and leave others empty handed so he ends up buying Teariums for both Anderson brothers, one for Miss Stephanie, and an actual coffee for Lieutenant Anderson.

He’s partway up the steps of the precinct carefully holding the tray of drinks when he spots Gideon sitting in the reception area. Their eyes meet and Gideon’s standing up and that means it’s too late for Simon to turn tail and run.

“Here Simon, let me help you with that.” Ronan’s voice is a gentle murmur by his side and he nearly jumps out of his casing. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“N-no it’s not- you’re fine, I just-” He’s stammering and Ronan’s expression is one of concern as he takes the drinks from him, Simon belatedly realising his trembling violently.

“Best to get you inside where it’s warmer.” He keeps stride with him as they enter the precinct, but all Simon wants to do is bolt away.

“So you weren’t lying.” Gideon greets him with a sneer, eyes roaming over Ronan briefly before returning to him. “Somehow convinced the RK900 to take pity on you, is that it? He’s not a domestic, Simon, he can’t take care of you!”

“Simon does not need my pity, or anyone else’s, he is perfectly capable of caring for himself.” Ronan places the tray on the reception desk, sizing up the AX700. “I do not appreciate you coming here to berate him publicly, and I do not care who you are but you will leave.”

“Or are you lying, Simon?” Gideon’s grin is malicious and the lie is unraveling in his hands. “Made up some relationship to make me jealous? Oh but that just means I’m right, doesn’t it? That no else could possibly love you, you broken, obs-”

Ronan’s hand closes around his throat, and the RK900 lifts him off the ground with no effort whatsoever, gaze positively murderous. “I love him plenty. And he didn’t bother telling me about you because you’re not worth his time, nor mine. Get out of here and don’t you ever, ever speak to Simon again.”

He lets go and Gideon falls to the floor in a heap, scrambling back in fear as Ronan towers over him. “You don’t even deserve to look at him, you cruel little cretin. If I ever hear of you approaching him again I will pull you apart piece by piece, do you understand?”

Gideon nods hastily, whimpering when Ronan lunges down to grab him by the shirt and haul him up.

“I asked: do you understand?” He growls, voice low and threatening.

“Y-y-yes! Yes I understand!”

“Excellent.” Ronan releases him. “See yourself out, then.”

Scrambling away, Gideon nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to escape and someone laughs a high-pitched almost hysterical laugh and after a moment Simon realises it’s him.

“Are you alright?”

“This isn’t happening.” Simon giggles and his vision is blurry and his LED is red enough it’s emitting heat. “I’m having an actual breakdown.”

“You are not.” Ronan’s expression is serious, his movements purposefully slow as he ever so gently guides Simon through the security gates and into a small room. “You are recovering from an emotionally abusive relationship and it has worn you thin. Your stress is understandable.”

“He- it wasn’t! That’s just how he is, he never hurt me I’m just overthinking things, I’m-” Simon can’t breathe which is an odd thing since androids can’t breathe but it feels like there isn’t enough air ventilating his biocomponents. “I used you, I told him we were together, I lied so he’d leave me alone and now you’re caught up in this, you had to lie to him too and I never meant-”

“What makes you think I was lying?” Ronan embraces him tightly and Simon cries because his system doesn’t know what else to do, how else to cope with his critical stress levels. “I love you plenty. Whether you accept that as the love of a friend or the love of a romantic partner, or not accept it at all- that is your choice to make. You need only tell me once, and I swear I will respect your wishes.”

“Then love me, because I want this to be real.” Simon pleads, and words aren’t enough so he lets the skin recede from his hand and Ronan presses his palm to his and the world falls away until there’s nothing left but the ache of yearning and pining and fondness and affection and love, and love and love.

He tips up just as Ronan leans down and their lips meet and their hearts sync and Simon knows finally this is real.

#rk900 #dbh simon #detroit: become human #you know i'm all about furthering the rk900/simon agenda!!!#annie writes: dbh #anomalous appliances

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artboitrash · 5 years ago

Text

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 19 - Four Letters, Three words

I walked through the gallery, allowing one foot to be placed in front of the other.

"How? How can you not remember me?!" the man cried out once I answered.

"I... I don't know, I just..."

"After everything, dio mio, you have to go and lose yourself?!"

I looked at some pictures hanging in the hallway I turned down. They were unexpected, for a gallery, but they were something to look at and think about at least.

"Maybe calm down, just... Start from the beginning..."

"There isn't a beginning to start from!"

I raised a hand, but he grabbed it before I could gesture for him to settle down. He made an angry grumble, releasing my hand and stepping back. He stormed off into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

I ran my fingers along the wallpaper as I explored. It was painful, almost every step leading me to feel pain shooting through my side. But it was at least better, at least to me, than laying on a couch with a giant spotlight trained on me.

That man eventually approached me a few minutes later, sitting down on the couch next to me. He sat down a glass of red wine and a small plate of food.

"Eat, bella. You must regain your strength."

I was hesitant, and ignored the gnawing feeling of hunger. He watched me with baited breath, a calmed look across his face.

Eventually he sighed, then picked up the wine and tipped some into his mouth. Once he swallowed without hesitation, he picked up small samplings of food and ate some as well. He chewed, swallowed, and turned the fork towards me.

"I am not hungry tonight, as I have too much work to do." He waved a finger slightly, and brushed his fingers through his bangs. "But I hope that will prove to you that I do not intend to harm you."

I slid my fingers across a gilded frame. A picture titled "Bouquet" sat before me. A small golden plaque beneath it, hammered into the wall as though the picture was meant to sit there forever. I wondered if the piece had been manipulated in Photoshop, or if they were somehow real.

I heard a click behind me, making me turn around. There was nothing there, making me swallow and wonder if it was possible for any ghosts to be in Union. That is, if I was still in Union.

I glanced over the blue dress, reddened by blood and rose petals cascading down. I looked as a gust of wind seem to carry them in motion away from the woman's body. I saw the scissors in her hand, a mask, or what could be her face, in another. She leaned elegantly against a table, silent elegance in portrayal in her existence.

I sighed, thinking to myself. These were all pricking at the back of my mind, but I couldn't reach them in the darkness. I had seen some of these pictures before, but where or when continually escaped me.

I turned and continued down the hallway. I kept exploring the empty, darkened building, hoping to find some shred as to who that man was. I tried to find the answers as to why he, these pictures, and my own life kept escaping me.

-Stefano's P.O.V.-

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted aloud.

I threw my enlarger across the room, anger taking hold of me.

"How?!"

I tore down a clothes line that held drying pictures, scattering still developing photos and used gloves.

"How?!"

I picked up a blurry image of one of the men that had come to Union. I tore it in half and threw it into the sink.

"How can she not remember me?!"

I stood in the silence of my dark room, extending it further and making it turn into a hallway. I had been granted the most wonderful gift, finding I was able to shape this world as I pleased. I had everything I could have possibly asked for.

I sank to my knees. I buried my face in my hands, screaming incoherently. I jumped between English and Italian with reckless abandon, just wanting whatever was listening to know how much agony I was in.

Was this some sort of twisted fate? My price for the ability to create my work?

Her memories for unlimited materials.

Was this his doing? That man...

No, he was even less than that. If he was behind this, I would slice him into pieces where he stood the next time he faced me.

He promised me everything I could ever want, for that girl. The little girl in pink pajamas and a short black bob of hair. He called her "the core," and she was apparently far too important to allow to wander the streets.

I grumbled to myself, turning to a counter as I stood. "(My dear beauty... Please, I would do anything for you, and you knew it. Did you forget me because you came her, to this town? Or did they manipulate you, like they tried to do to me?)"

I knew my pride was to strong to admit it aloud, but I had forgotten who I was. I forgot my work, what inspired me most. I forgot my life when I came to this town, and I couldn't remember the one person who had stolen my affections.

She was living in Union with me, and I didn't even notice.

I slid my hand over one of my pieces. The proof of her as my art sitting next to the piece of the man in the chair. Ryan Turner, I believe. It was cathartic to kill someone who had the same name as the man who hurt her. I still need to make a nameplate for this work, but for now I could be satisfied.

I quietly inhaled. Counting to ten, slowly exhaling to calm myself. I smiled down at her picture. She was here, at least. The night I had been taken, I had simply taken her home and asked her to be my date for the next time my gallery showed. Once she was safely home, I decided to go to a Mu Center, or whatever they were called. I didn't want my correspondence with them to go any further.

"Stefano..."

I jerked my head to where I heard her. There was nothing there, almost as usual.

"A-ah..."

I closed my eye, pushing my hands into my head.

"N-no, no not again..."

"Ah, p-please..."

"Stop it, stop... You're not real..."

"I love you! Ah, I... I love you!!"

The sound she made as her orgasm crashed over her body took over my head. Our first night together, haunting me. Soon would come my second night with her, in the gallery. Then would be her shrieking. The sound of her trying to scream when almost no one could hear. The time I wasn't there to help her. The time I doubted her, the time I thought she had instantly went to someone else. I had abandoned her that night, and the terror in her eyes has been following me like a demon in the night.

"I... I love you..."

The ache I've been plagued with. The yearning for her touch. The want for her voice.

I backed away from her photo.

I love you.

"Stefano..."

I love you!

I covered my face, seething in anger.

"I... I l-love you, Stefano..."

I slammed my fist on the counter. I could almost hear the shattering

"Bella...!" I shouted.

I fell to the ground, holding onto the counter as my knees hit the tile. I held my hand over my mouth, feeling a burn in my heart. I tried to keep from hyperventilating.

It wasn't so gentle, so soft. Not anymore. It burned in pain, cracking my heart open and making it burst again and again and again.

"(My muse,)" I muttered in my native tongue. "(My dear, my beauty, my one...)"

"Stefano--!"

"I know, my dear, I know."

I slid my hand from my mouth. I pressed it over my chest. I could feel my heartbeat through the skin, beating its way out of my chest.

A few days ago, I had brought her to my gallery. I lay her along a couch and placed a curtain over her. I couldn't keep from posing her briefly, so excited my muse has returned for me. I took several pictures of her beaten and bloodied body as she slept.

It angered me that someone has hurt her, but I felt turmoil as she looked so... Beautiful.

Someone had gone over my work. I laughed at the time; it felt like "L. H. O. O. Q." in a way, someone adding a new part to my art and throwing her back into the world. Oh, my poor muse stumbling through that door so bloodied and frightened. Oh, how lovely that she was so frightened she couldn't recognized me...

But now I know so much better. I didn't want to know better.

I wanted my Rose.

The woman who cracked open the cavity in my chest and created the most wonderful art through me. The woman who would force me to make art from myself if I wished to see it. I wanted the Rose who kissed me, and made me question myself. I wanted the woman who made me hurt when I wasn't with her.

I wanted the Rose that trusted me. The Rose that called me in the night to tell me her nightmare, the Rose that held me when someone fired a gun and shot off fireworks.

We had already been through so much when they took me. We had been staying at each others house every other day, and she had stayed with me for so many days before I had gone.

I walked away from my red room, slipping a piece of paper out of my pocket. I slid out the black letter from the envelope. I sneered at it, having received the duplicate letter that ensnared me in this town after the world began to fall apart and I discovered my gift.

I remembered leaving her home, and going back to mine to get everything I needed. I decided to get some work around my house done now that I could relax since my gallery had been unveiled. After I had changed my sheets, I found that letter again. I read over the letter and decided I should head to one of those centers to tell them I wasn't interested. That was the only way I could opt out of that service, since they had such strange exiting details.

When I entered the Mu Center I had found, I walked to the receptionist and gave my full name. After I began discussing leaving the letters program, or whatever it was I was involved with.

And after that I couldn't remember a thing.

I woke in a place I somehow recognized. It was like a dream, a studio house with two floors. I could remember almost immediately weeks of moving into a new home. I had boxes of belongings to put away, and a welcome letter waiting on the table.

I couldn't remember what had changed my mind. I couldn't remember what made me decide to move to a new town. I couldn't remember more than being excited on moving into a new town.

I couldn't remember my Rose.

I grabbed my white pen out of my pocket. I growled quietly to myself in my anger, and threw the letter on a side table. I defiled the letter in my anger, scrawling violently across the paper. "LIES! ALL LIES!"

They lied to me about opting out of that ludicrous program. He lied that I would get everything I wanted. He lied about what he would give, about his religious front. He lied about even caring about what I wrote about in my letters.

He only gave a damn when he realized I was useful. He tried to sing me praise, false interest and fake encouragement.

I slammed the letter on the side table in the hallway. I walked away, my will slamming the metal bars down to lock it away forever. No one would see their words again, no one would be fooled with false promises and fake gods.

I walked away, feeling a little better now that I've ruined some of his "perfection." His perfection is useless and he was only a simpleton. I laughed quietly. I will speak to him, I will confront him. I will force him to give me back my muse's memories. I will force him to let go of her.

If he wanted to barter, so be it. I will get what I truly want, and I will not allow her to slip away from me again.

#Stefano Valentini #The Evil Within 2 #tew #tew2 #the evil within stefano #stefano valentini fanfiction #tew2 stefano #stefano #His Bloody Rose #Chapter 19 #Four letters #three words

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szk-only · 5 years ago

Text

It’s Always Been You: A Min Yoongi Story

Okay, so, this is the first part of a story that I am currently writing. Let me know what you think! Also, my request box is always open if y’all want more.

Word count: 6k

**Theme songs:

Stay - EXO, Lights Out - EXO, Inner Child - BTS, Magic Shop - BTS, Lie Again - SEVENTEEN, Crystal Snow - BTS, Fall - EXO, Hug - PENTAGON, I Need You - BTS (Makes the experience better)**

Where It Began

Hobi and I had been together for two months now. Things were going great. He was an amazing person and he did absolutely everything right. I could never have asked for a better boyfriend. We had met in a coffee shop one morning when he had gotten in line behind me and asked me what the best thing on the menu was. Such a simple conversation led to a whole lot more.

Now, we were sitting in his car outside of the Big Hit building. After some time of asking, begging and a little bit of pouting, he finally got me to come meet his friends. For some reason I had always been nervous about meeting the people he spent the majority of his time with. I mean these were the people he basically lived with. Had been living with for the last seven years! I guess I was just afraid that they wouldn’t like me because that would mean the end of me and Hobi. I would never make him choose between them or me. I would hope that he would always choose them.

“So, are you ready?” Hobi said with a bright smile that radiated sunshine. That was his nickname, sunshine, because he radiated the sun. All. The. Time.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I really hope that they like me,” I said while leaning back against the seat of his Range Rover. I was really stressed over this meeting.

“Don’t be worried. They will absolutely love you. There is literally no reason they could not love you. Also, they’ve been begging to meet you since we started dating,” he said while reaching over and taking my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand.

“Okay, then let’s do this,” I said while smiling at him. He flashed a bright smile and we both got out of the car. I rounded the car and he grabbed my hand in his and led us inside.

“Okay, so we are gonna meet them in the dorms since that’s the most casual place and also we want to be able to annoy anyone else. People always complain about how loud we are but I just say that's one of our many charms,” he said. He continued talking but I drifted to my own little world. My mind was reeling at all the scenarios that could play out until finally we walked through a door and a group of guys sitting on couches.

I felt my heart stop when my eyes met with a blonde haired guy, Suga if I wasn’t mistaken, sitting towards the back of the room. It was like the world slowed and I was floating. My attention was pulled away when Hobi pulled me into the room. I forced myself to look away to smile as the tallest guy in the room walked up with an outstretched hand. I put on a bright smile and grabbed his hand but was surprised when he pulled me into a hug.

“It’s nice to finally meet you! I’m glad to finally meet the girl that Hobi can’t stop talking about. For a while I thought you were made up,” he said when he released me from his hug. I couldn’t help but laugh as Hobi punched the dude in the arm.

I followed Hobi to a couch and we took a seat. I pulled my legs up and crossed them, placing my laced hands in my lap. I felt myself begin to relax when everyone settled down in the couches. I looked up from hands to find Suga sitting right across from me. For a moment we just looked at each other, as if there was no one else in the room.

“So I’m sure you know our names already but let us introduce ourselves. I’m Namjoon, aka the dad of this group and welcome to the family,” he said, pulling my attention away from the guy sitting in front of me. I smiled at him, beginning to feel more at ease.

“Hi, I’m Jin and I’m the youngest. Also, known as world handsome,” he said, sending us all laughing. I glanced over at Suga and felt my heart stop at his gummy smile.

“I’m JK but you can call me Jungkook also, you are really short,” he said. I couldn’t fight the deep laugh that rumbled through me.

“Yes I am. Four foot eleven to be exact,” I said once I regained my composure.

“My little shortie,” Hobi said while wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into him. My eyes drifted over to Suga and found him looking at the floor. I felt an ache go through my chest. I shifted and Hobi moved his arm.

“I’m Jimin and I just so happen to be the shortest in this group so we can be short together,” he said with a wink that sent the whole group laughing.

“I’m V but you can call me Taehyung,” he said with a shy smile. And then finally we came to Suga. I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster at the thought of hearing his voice. He looked up and let out a smile that shattered my entire world. It was the most perfect thing I had ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Suga but you can call me Yoongi, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a deep voice that made my entire world shift. His voice was perfect. He was perfect.

“Nice to meet you all too. I am so glad I was able to let Hobi talk me into coming over to meet y’all,” I said with a sweet smile.

“You are welcome here anytime and we are glad that Hobi finally brought you over,” Namjoon said. With that we all started talking and I no longer felt worried.

When dinner was over and Hobi was in an intense match of ping-pong with Namjoon, I grabbed plates and walked into the kitchen. I set them down in the sink and opened the dishwasher.

“Let me help you with that,” said a deep voice that made me feel safe. I looked up and smiled at Yoongi as he walked over to the other side of the dishwasher.

“Thank you,” I said. We reached into the sink at the same time and our hands met. I felt something I have never felt go through me. I looked up and he looked at me. After a long pause he pulled his hand back and continued putting dishes in the dishwasher.

“Umm. So, how long have you lived in Seoul?” Yoongi asked, his cheeks turning pink. I felt heat rush to my own cheeks.

“For the last six years. Me and my best friend moved here after we graduated from college,” I said. Even though my mind was reeling from what had just happened, talking to him was easy..

“Oh wow, that’s cool. So what do y’all do now?” he said.

“Well I’m a pediatric nurse practitioner at the local hospital and she’s a linguistic anthropologist professor at the local university. So what about you? What do you do other than make every girl in the world fall in love with you?,” I said with a smile. I watched as a smile formed on his face and a laugh rumbled through him. His smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. While Hobi’s was full of sunshine, Yoongi’s was everything good that was in the world. Everything that I had ever dreamed of.

“Wow that’s so amazing. But other than making every girl fall in love with me, I produce music. I actually produce a lot of our music too,” he said with a shy smile.

“That’s so cool. You’ll have to show me some of the music you produced,” I said with a bright smile. I couldn’t stop smiling. He was everything I had ever dreamed of but didn’t know I had been dreaming of.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. With that we finished the dishes and headed back into the living room to join the others. Now knowing that soon both our worlds would shift.

Later that evening I fell onto my bed, my mind filled with so many thoughts. What was I going to do? It was wrong of me to be with Hobi but feel myself falling in love with someone else. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts, stopping on my best friend Joanna’s number. I put the phone to my ear and waited for her to pick up.

“Hello,” said my absolute best friend. We had been friends for as long as I could remember and I couldn’t live life without her.

“Hey Joanna! How are you?” I said, feeling myself get excited.

“Good, how about you? How did meeting Hobi’s friends go?”

“It went absolutely amazing and a certain member that I think you find really attractive is single”

“No way! Namjoon is single?” she said, almost screaming.

“Yup and I may or may not have said that I would be bringing you along the next time we hang out and they look forward to meeting you.” I said while laughing at how she was now screaming on the other end of the phone.

“Oh my gosh. You may just be the best person to ever breathe on this planet,” she said when she finally stopped screaming.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” the smile slipping from my lips at the situation I now found myself in.

“What’s up?” she said. She knew me better than anyone, so I wasn’t surprised when she noticed my small change in tone. That was one of her super powers. She could read anyone and anything.

“It’s one of his friends, his name is Yoongi. There is just something about him that I’ve never felt before. We connected in a way that just felt natural. We did the dishes together and our hands touched and something went through me. He felt it too because he let his hand linger,” I said. For a moment there was silence.

“Oh wow,” she said softly.

“Yeah and now he is all i can think about. He’s all I want,” I said, a yearning burning in my heart.

“What are you going to do?” she said.

“I don’t know but I know I need to talk to Hobi because he deserves to know. I just don’t want him to get hurt because he is such a good person and deserves the world. I just don’t feel the same way for him and it’s not fair to him,” I said.

“That would be a good idea. I would wait just a little while before I told him because you did just meet Yoongi. If your feelings get stronger or you feel that you are about to slip, talk to him,” she said.

“Okay. I just don’t want Hobi to get hurt,” I said. I felt guilt begin to gnaw at my heart.

“Just go with your heart and be honest with him. I know for a fact from what you have told me and from seeing the kind of person he is that he will understand,” she said.

“I hope so because I’ve never been in this kind of situation and I would never want to hurt anyone,” I said.

“I know you will do the right thing Grace. You always do,” she said. I felt a smile form on my lips. She really was the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

“Thank you Joanna. So, the group is getting together again this weekend and I was hoping that you could go with me?” I said. I crossed my fingers, hoping that she could go so I could set her up with Namjoon.

“Of course! You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to hang out with my best friend,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s totally the reason you're coming,” I said. With that we both laughed.

That night I laid in bed, unable to sleep. My mind raced with the conversation that me and Yoongi had in the kitchen. Even though it was small, it was everything. All I wanted was to talk to him again. I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to watch the way his lips moved.

‘Grace stop. You can’t think about these things while you are with Hobi. It’s not fair to him,’ I thought to myself. What had I gotten myself into?

I turned over and pulled a pillow close to me. How was I going to get out of this?

A week later Joanna and I walked into the Big Hit building. All week she had been talking about the weekend and how excited she was to meet Namjoon. What she didn’t know was that I had been talking to Namjoon and he was beyond excited to meet her too. This was going to go so great and I couldn’t wait to see where it would go.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so nervous,” she said as we walked down the hallway to the dorms.

“Don’t be. These guys are amazing. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about,” I said with a huge smile. She gave me a small smile and I just laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?” she said dramatically.

“No, of course not,” I said while laughing even harder. She just stared at me before she broke out into her own laughter.

“Oh my gosh, I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the hall,” said a familiar voice. I turned to find Hobi rounding the corner with a smile as bright as the sun. I smiled right back at him and walked into his open arms.

“Pshh I doubt that,” I said while shaking my head at Joanna. She just smiled as she walked up to us.

“Hi, I’m Hobi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Grace talks about you all the time,” he said while extending his hand out.

“All good things I hope are the same for you,” she said while shaking his hand. I was so happy that my two favorite people were finally meeting.

“Really now?” he said while turning to look at me. I just stepped out of his reach and threw my hands up in the air.

“Oh yeah. Who do you think was the one who got her to go out on that first date with you,” she said while winking. Hobi scoffed and Joanna and I burst into laughter. It didn’t take long before Hobi joined in.

“Hey! Why are we missing out on all the fun,” said a certain Namjoon. I turned to Joanna who was now no longer laughing but completely entranced by Namjoon.

“Hey Namjoon, this is Joanna and we were just about to make our way to the dorms,” I said while grabbing Hobi’s hand and pulling him towards the dorms, leaving Namjoon and Joanna together. I turned back for a second and gave her a thumbs up before we walked into the dorms.

Hobi and I took a seat on our usual couch as Namjoon and Joanna walked in the door. She was smiling bigger than I had seen in a long time. I was happy for her. She deserved to be this happy and I hope that she will be able to stay that way.

“Where are the others?” I said while looking around the room. It was unusually quiet now that all seven of them weren’t in here together.

“The others are out and about. They will be back later, they are going to bring food too,” he said while wrapping his arm around my shoulders as Joanna and Namjoon took the couch in front of us.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” I said while looking over at Namjoon. He smirked and I knew that he was thinking up something.

“Well, I have a game in mind. So it's a couples verses couples game. And it’s called the blow challenge,” he said.

“I’ve heard of this game and it seems really fun but super intense,” Joanna said. I couldn’t fight the urge to wink at her because of how close her and Namjoon would be getting. When she finally realized her cheeks tinged pink.

“Awesome! So basically the point of the game is to see which couple can move the most pieces of paper with their lips holding the paper. The loser gets last dibs on the food,” he said with a smirk. I turned to Hobi with an exasperated look. I was met with the same look.

“Oh, we cannot lose this game,” he said. There was no way that we were going to go without food and knowing this group they would take all the food. That was just not possible. We would literally die.

“Agreed. You guys are on,” I said while holding out a hand. Hobi met it with our handshake and we were ready. Namjoon stood to go grab the supplies from the other room and Hobi and I moved to the floor to strategize until he returned.

“Alright, so I’m going to set the timer for 1 minute and GO,” he said. With that I turned to our first piece of paper and sucked it up. I turned to Hobi who leaned in and sucked it from my lips and turned to our basket. We were like a well oiled machine, getting piece after piece. However, we were so focused on winning that we never checked to see how Namjoon and Joanna were doing.

A minute later a ringing pierced through our stern concentration. The paper fell from my lips but Hobi saw that as an opportunity because he continued leaning in. His lips met mine in a sweet peck. I smiled onto his lips and let out a small laugh. I heard the same laugh from beside me and knew that Namjoon had done the same thing.

“Alright people, the time is up. Let’s count out our paper and see who won,” Namjoon said. I turned to our basket and Hobi dumped the contents onto the floor. We counted a total of 15 pieces of paper.

“15! We have 15 pieces!” Hobi and I screamed in unison. We fist bumped at our sure victory.

“Sorry my dudes but read em and weep because we have 20,” Namjoon said with a smug grin. Joanna shot me a smirk and I fell onto Hobi with a moan.

“NO! We are going to starve,” I said into his chest. I felt him deflate as we began thinking about how we were quite literally going to starve.

“Who’s going to starve?” said Jimin as the door opened. Hobi and I only sighed loudly and creeped back over to the couch.

“That would be Hobi and Grace because they lost the game. Sucks for them!” Namjoon said while laughing evilly

“I’m going to kill him,” I said. I jumped from Hobi’s arms onto an unsuspecting Namjoon who began screaming like a girl, sending the entire room into laughter.

When everyone had grabbed what they wanted from the food that was brought, Hobi and I made our way into the kitchen to see what was left. However, I was stopped by Yoongi who pointed toward a cabinet with his chopsticks and winked. I couldn’t fight the grin as I went to the cabinet and found a plate full of food. I turned to look over my shoulder as Hobi picked through what was left. When his back was turned I grabbed the plate and silently walked back into the living room.

I took a seat on the floor next to a smiling Yoongi. My arm pressed against his as I positioned myself in front of the low table. The skin on skin contact had me blushing like crazy and every nerve in my body tingling. I looked over at him and noticed that his cheeks were slightly pink. However, he didn’t move and neither did I. His warmth was addicting.

Eventually Hobi made his way into the living room with a sad looking plate of food. However, when he saw my full plate, he almost dropped his plate.

“Where did you get all that?” he said while taking a seat in front of me. I just shrugged my shoulders and Yoongi let out a quiet laugh. His shoulders shook causing his arm to rub mine. For a moment the world was forgotten and all I could think about was his arm rubbing mine. I looked to the floor when I realized that Hobi was now looking at me. Guilt began gnawing at me so I shifted slightly but not far enough that I couldn’t feel Yoongi’s warmth.

I glanced up and found Joanna staring at me. She raised her eyebrows and I knew what that meant. I was playing it too close. It was either stop or tell Hobi and I wasn’t ready to tell Hobi yet. I turned my gaze back to my food and pushed the plate so Hobi could get some. He smiled at me and we all ate.

I fell back onto my bed when I got home. Joanna did the same thing and for a moment we just laid there looking up at the ceiling. This was a rather common thing for us to do. We were the kind of best friends who could just sit there in silence and be totally fine.

“Girl, tonight was so much fun,” Joanna said, breaking the silence.

“I know. So you and Namjoon seemed pretty chummy all cuddled on the couch during the movie,” I said while turning my head so she could see my raised eyebrows.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said while turning away from me but I knew she was blushing like a mad woman.

“Okay. Whatever you say,” I said with a high pitched voice. A few seconds later her hand hit my arm with a loud smack.

“Hey! What was that for?” I said after we both stopped laughing.

“You know what. You were toeing the line tonight with Yoongi. I could read it on both of your faces. Grace that boy is in love with you and you are in love with him. You need to tell Hobi as soon as possible,” she said. I looked over at her and she gave me one of her looks.**

**“I know. I’m just so afraid of hurting him. He is one of the sweetest guys I have ever met and I don’t want to break his heart. I just don’t know when would be the right time to tell him,” I said while turning away. I couldn't bear her looks. They could make even the toughest person crumple.

“Just tell him. If you don’t you could end up losing them both and I have seen the way that you look at Yoongi,” she said. The thought of losing them both sent a pang through my heart. I couldn’t imagine a life without Yoongi. He was the one and the only one.

“You’re right. I will tell him soon. Now, let’s talk about you and Namjoon,” I said, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“I know what you are doing but he kissed me at the end of the game and girl let me tell you. It was unlike anything I have ever felt before,” she said. I could hear the amazement in her voice. I thought back to my kiss with Hobi and realized that I didn’t feel that way.

“It felt like true love,” I said. I felt the bed shift but I continued to stare at the ceiling, knowing that that would be the feeling I would get if I ever kissed Yoongi.

“Exactly,” she said softly. With that we stayed in silence for the rest of the night as we fell asleep.

The next few weeks were hard. All I could think about was Yoongi and how much I wanted him. When I saw him it was all I could do to keep my eyes off of him. The looks from across the room set me on fire no matter how many times it happened Then the small touches started. Simple hand brushing when we walked past each other, brushing shoulders when we sat next to each other.

This was becoming a problem and we both knew it but we just couldn’t stop. We were addicted to each other. We wanted each other more and more each time we saw one another but neither one of us spoke a word of it. However, we didn’t need to. Our gazes and small touches said it all.

I had to tell Hobi soon.

I walked through the hallways of Big Hit, looking for Hobi but couldn’t find him anywhere. I guess that's what happens when you don’t tell him that you are coming. As I turned around another corner a soft melody caught my ears. It was beautiful and full of so much passion. I let my ears guide me and walked to the end of the hallway, the sound gradually getting louder. As I rounded a corner there was a door leading to a practice room and the music was coming loudly from the other side.

Without thinking, I opened the door and walked in. Yoongi was sitting at a piano in the middle of the room playing a beautiful song. For a moment I watched as he moved with the music. It was unlike anything I had ever seen or heard. I closed my eyes, letting my body drink up the beautiful song that he was playing. It was familiar but I couldn’t place the name.

When he stopped I opened my eyes to find him sitting there, hands still on the keys, shoulders rising and falling. I took a step and he turned around. He smiled at me and scooted over.

“How long have you been there?” he said as I took a seat beside him, our arms brushing against each other. I let my body soak up the warmth of his touch.

“Long enough to know that you are amazing. I’ve never seen anyone play with such passion,” I said while turning to look at him.

“I've been playing for a long time but the piano was my first love. Now, whenever I need to get away from the world I always find myself sitting in front of one,” he said with a soft smile. I couldn’t fight the smile that formed on my lips.

“Wow, that’s amazing. Can you play it again,” I said with a brighter smile. His smile widened and he turned back to the piano. I watched as his fingers reached out over the keys and how his foot fell upon the pedals. He took a deep breath and unleashed himself.

I closed my eyes and let the familiar but still unnamed melody move through me. At that moment, I knew that I only wanted Yoongi and that I couldn’t wait any longer. I wanted him, every single part. I opened my eyes and watched as he moved with every note. How his eyes were closed and his lips pursed every time he moved. He was beautiful.

When he finished, he turned to me and opened his eyes, smiling softly. My body warmed with his gaze. I felt myself leaning closer but I stopped myself a few inches away. He shifted and moved closer. Noses almost brushing.

“I need you,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips.

“What?” I whispered back, pouring every ounce of my strength into not closing the distance.

“I need you is the name of the song. I could see you thinking about it,” he whispered, a smile tugging on his lips. I couldn’t fight the laugh that rose through me. I gave up and leaned my forehead against his, sighing. He brushed his nose against mine and I could feel myself slowly melting.

“I need you,” I whispered, almost inaudibly. His hand brushed mine and I knew that he had heard me. But it was true. I needed him, needed every single part of him. He made me whole in a way no one ever had. I shuddered as his fingers slowly caressed mine, as if he wanted to grab my hand but just couldn’t yet. I closed my eyes as he slowly laced our fingers together, my hand fitting perfectly in his. He slipped his thumb in between our hands and started tracing small circles on my palm. Time seemed to stop and we were the only ones existing. I never wanted it to end.

“I know you are with Hobi but I have to tell you this. When you walked through the door to the dorms for the first time, my world shifted the instant my eyes met yours. Our hands fit perfectly together and that means something. Grace you don’t have to say anything but I want you. I want you more than anything I have ever wanted in this world,” he whispered. Each breath brushed my lips, making them tingle. I felt like I was about to explode as the love swelled through me. He was the one and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Yoongi, the moment I walked through that door, you were the first one and the only one I saw. My world shifted in a way that it has never shifted before. I’m not going to lie and tell you that I didn’t feel something when you touched my hand or that I wasn’t secretly hoping that we would brush hands again because I did. Yoongi, I want you too, more than anything in this world. Give me time to talk to Hobi because it’s not fair to him but you are the only one I want,” I whispered. I bit my lip, finding it harder to not kiss him. I watched as his eyes flicked to my lips and back up to my eyes. I was going to cave soon but the thought of Hobi floated through me.

I closed my eyes and pulled myself away with a sigh. I couldn’t do that to Hobi, I wouldn't do that to him. I kept my eyes closed as I felt tears rise in my eyes at the pure wanting of his warmth back, to be back in Yoongi’s warmth. He was perfect in every way. With heavy lids, I opened my eyes and found Yoongi looking at me with an expression that mirrored my own.

“Soon. Soon, I promise,” I whispered with a sigh. He nodded his head and I stood up from the piano. I let my fingers graze over the keys before turning back to him. He looked up at me with eyes that tore me to pieces. There was passion mixed in with sadness. At that moment, I almost gave in.

“I will be here, waiting no matter how long it takes,” he said while standing. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. No one had ever said that to me, not even Hobi. He reached up and gently wiped away the tear. I leaned into his touch but he pulled away, leaving my cheek cold.

“Today. I will tell him today,” I said and with that I turned to leave, not trusting myself if I stayed any longer. I closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall. I took a deep breath, clearing my mind. That was too close. I had to talk to Hobi. I took my phone out and sent him a message.

‘Hey can we talk?’ It was better to be straightforward.

‘Yeah, I’m in a practice room down the hall from the dorms.’ With that I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the wall. I glanced through the door and found Yoongi sitting in front of the piano again. Waiting.

I made my way to the practice room and found Hobi sitting against the wall, alone. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He looked up from his phone and gave me a soft smile. It took me by surprise because I was used to his bright smile all the time.

“Hey,” he said as I took a seat beside him.

“Hey,” I said while leaning my head against the wall. For a moment there was silence.

“I need to tell you something,” we said at the same time. We both let out small laughs.

“You first,” he said. I took a deep breath and turned to look him in the eyes.

“Hobi, I don’t really know how to tell you this but I am going to be honest with you. I am in love with Yoongi. I wanted to tell you sooner but you had just introduced me to the guys and I felt like that I could have just been imagining things, but over these past few weeks I’ve realized that I am in love with him. Hobi, I still love you and I am so sorry if this hurts you. I never wanted to hurt you but he is the one,” I said. I blinked back tears that began rising. He looked at the ground for a while before finally looking back at me. He gave me a small smile.

“It’s okay and I still love you too but I’ve also fallen in love with someone else. I think she is the one but that doesn’t mean that I never loved you because I did. She’s just the one, you know?” he said. I felt my body relax as I let out a deep sigh that I had been holding in for so long. All my fear dissipated in seconds.

“I do,” I said. We smiled at each other, genuine smiles this time. We were both afraid of hurting one another but it turned out we were both in the same boat.

“Well , then let’s go out and get our love,” he said while standing. He reached down and I grabbed his hand as he pulled me up. He pulled me in for a hug and we stood there for a moment.

“Let’s go get it. So we are good then?” I said when we released each other.

“We are totally good. I would say we could now be best friends. In fact, I think we would work better as best friends,” he said with a laugh. I joined in and we walked out the door. I waved as he turned to walk in the opposite direction and watched as he disappeared around the corner. I turned towards the direction of the practice room Yoongi was in and felt every part of me fill with love. I could finally love him. I took off in a sprint to the practice room, ready to give him every single bit of my love.

I came to a stop outside of the practice room and found him still sitting in front of the piano. He was now playing another song. I felt a smile break out on my lips as I thought to myself, ‘he was mine to love now.’ I pushed open the door and walked in. He stopped playing and turned to me.

“I love you,” I said. He stood up and moved out from behind the piano.

“I love you too,” he said. With that we ran to each other and I jumped into his arms, lips meeting for the first time. Everything in the world fell into place as we kissed. My world was complete. Everything felt right, everything was right as I kissed him harder. Even though we had the rest of eternity together, all that mattered was this moment right now.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine as we caught our breath. He smiled and his lips brushed mine. I felt my own lips turn up as I placed a small kiss on his lips as we started our journey into forever.

#bts #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi #hoseok #rm bts #fanfic #bts taehyung #bts v #bts jk

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undermoonlightst · 7 years ago

Text

First Time (Woozi/Lee Jihoon) (Smut)

A/N: I rewrote this sucker fOUR times. I also got carried away and made it extremely long on accident. When I found out this was over 5,000 words I choked on my coffee a little.... anyway. About the Jicheol part of this request, I have never written a boy x boy smut before, in fact, this story is only my third time writing smut. So for now, I am still struggling learning to write just regular smut and make it good so I don’t yet feel comfortable writing any SVT ship smuts yet. I am not against the idea at all, and would love to write them in the future once I get more settled in here. Anyway, thanks so much for your request!! I hope you enjoy this! <3

Request: Can we have a first time with JIcheol? (No reader involved just jicheol) if not then a first time with Jihoon?

➵ Pairing: Woozi/Lee Jihoon x Reader

➵ Theme: Smut, slight dom!Jihoon (only for a moment...then he goes back to being a cinnamon roll)

➵ Words: 5,163 (holy cRAP!)

*credits to gif owner, not mine*

Jihoon was slow as molasses when it came to your relationship. You were friends long before you dated and it literally took him years to slowly fall in love with you. But that’s what made it so beautiful. His steady pace of falling in love with you over time meant that by the time he finally admitted it to you, he was smitten. Terribly smitten. Jihoon was usually very stoic and didn’t show much emotion. But in private, when he felt an emotion, he was passionate about it. Especially around you. He never failed to express to you how much he loved you, even when he was away on tour or stressed out making music. You felt extremely proud that you were basically the only one that got to see Jihoon’s real emotions.

Since he was so slow, so careful with your relationship, it took him a very long time to be ready for sex. He wanted it, oh he definitely wanted it, but he was weary of bringing it up to you. All these months of being together and you still hadn’t talked about sex with him, nor had you done anything with him that could be considered, well... sexy. What if you didn’t even want sex? It was a stupid thought, yet Jihoon thought it.

He fiddled with the tv remote, not paying attention to his show, but instead thinking about you. His thoughts were running wild. He wanted you, badly, but if you didn’t want sex and he brought it up to you... Jihoon didn’t want you to think he was some hormonal horn dog. But, holding back had started to become more and more difficult for him. He began to have dreams at night about you, about making love to you passionately. And every time he would see you during the day, along with his extreme adoration and love for you, a slight ache would gnaw at him from somewhere deep inside. He recognized it as sexual desire, and it was becoming more unbearable as time went on. Every little thing that you did made his emotions go into a frenzy and his fingers would be itching to touch you, to just get a taste of your soft skin.

“I’m home!” You walked into the living room, placing your keys down on the counter and Jihoon was startled out of his thoughts. What he didn’t know, was that you had been having very similar thoughts about him. Your growing desire to have sex with Jihoon had been rising, yet you hadn’t mentioned it to him. What he also didn’t know was that you were tired of holding yourself back from him. You had secretly noticed Jihoon’s gazes at you the past few weeks, watching him bite his lip as he eyed you from a distance, his mind obviously full of unclean thoughts. His recent kisses with you lingered longer than they usually did, his hands holding onto you tightly like he might lose you. You were tired of letting sexual tension make things uneasy for the both of you. You wanted him. You wanted his long, slender fingers to feel your skin, you wanted them tracing lazy shapes on your lower stomach before finding your soaking clit-

You cleared your throat and turned to see Jihoon looking at you.

“Hi.” He hummed, and your heart warmed up at the loving gaze he was giving you. As soon as he saw you, Jihoon’s body instantly filled with want. He cursed himself for being so weak for you. Yet, you were so beautiful, so soft. Every inch of him adored you, and he yearned to show you how crazy you made him. His mind wandered to what you might sound like sighing in pleasure, begging him to touch you, begging him to give it to you faster...harder. He felt something rise inside of him and he scanned your gorgeous body quickly. He swallowed, suddenly becoming very aware of how aroused he had gotten so quickly, just at the fucking sight of you.

“How was your day?” He forced himself to ask, his tone hoarse. You lifted a brow slightly at the sound of his voice. It sounded slightly weak, like something had drained the energy from him.

“Boring.” You chuckled. “It’s better now that I’m home with you.” You smiled, strutting over to the couch, swaying your hips slightly. Jihoon had to force himself to keep his eyes on yours instead of drifting them to your swinging hips as you approached him. You sat down, instantly leaning an arm over Jihoon’s shoulders so your fingers could play with his soft hair. He hummed in approval, leaning into your touch a little too quickly, giving away his desperateness for you. He turned his face to look at you, and you almost melted at the urgent look in his eyes. He was anxious to get more physical attention from you than you just playing with his hair, so he leaned in suddenly, connecting your lips in a searing kiss. It deepened almost instantly as you wrapped both arms around Jihoon’s neck.

His kisses quickly became frantic and you were beginning to feel very aroused by just the sound of Jihoon’s wet lips parting from yours repeatedly with small pops, just to be reconnected to them again a millisecond later. He repeated this action over and over again, giving you quick, frenzied pecks that, though they were quick, were deep, and they had you squeezing your thighs together in arousal.

“Jihoon...” You whispered, and he swallowed at the sultry sound of your voice. His hand was gripping your thigh and you knew that at this point, you had to say or do something to let Jihoon know, you wanted sex. Now.

“Jihoon.” You said his name again, and he pulled away from your lips, giving you his full attention. You didn’t know how to word what you wanted so you settled for moving to straddle his lap. Jihoon looked surprised but he adjusted quickly, his hands naturally smoothing to hold your hips. You gently grabbed both his cheeks, leaning in close.

“Kiss me again.” You begged, your hot breath hitting Jihoon’s face, causing him to shiver. He didn’t say a word, but instead obeyed your request, slamming his lips into yours and gripping your hips so tight you thought you might have bruises later. The kissing instantly became a heated make out session, your tongue battling Jihoon’s for dominance, yet he was winning easily. The whole thing was a blur of pleasure and crazy hormones, both of you breathing heavily on each other’s lips, and your hands wandering each other desperately.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but it did. As soon as Jihoon gave your bottom lip a gentle, yet sultry bite, you involuntarily ground your hips down against his. He immediately gasped and threw his head back at the feeling of you pushing against his half-hard cock.

“O-oh.” He sighed, his eyes closing, and your cheeks instantly flushed at the sight and sound of him experiencing sexual pleasure. You had never heard him make such a gorgeous noise before. Wanting to hear it again, you rolled your hips down on him again, this time jolting slightly at the feeling of Jihoon’s hard cock rubbing against your clit. He groaned and then chuckled lowly at your reaction to feeling his cock against you. You had frozen, your eyes wide as you stared at him.

“Are you surprised?” He laughed and you blushed, looking down at your lap. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He purred, leaning in close to your face and a shiver ran down your body. You gripped his shoulders.

“W-what do I do to you?”

“This.” Jihoon growled and shifted without warning, pinning you down on your back on the couch so fast that it took your breath away from you temporarily. Before you could recover, Jihoon smashed his lips into yours, instantly biting down roughly. You let a whimper at his sudden roughness, your heart racing with excitement. Jihoon’s delicate hands were exploring your body with fervor, grabbing at anything and everything he could as you squirmed underneath him. His free hand that wasn’t holding himself up over you, eventually found one of your breasts and when he gave it a gentle squeeze, you instinctively arched your back, pushing yourself into Jihoon’s touch and moaning softly. He smiled at your noise of pleasure, continuing to fondle your breast as he resumed kissing you eagerly. His fingers eventually danced down to the bottom of your shirt, tugging at the hem of it. He pulled away from your lips hesitantly so he could look you in the eyes. You wanted to melt at the sight of him above you, staring at you with hooded eyes that screamed ‘lust’. Yet, behind it was a sparkle of deep affection and love for you. Only you.

“May I?” He referred to your shirt and you nodded eagerly. He sighed in relief and pulled it over your head, revealing your almost-bare chest. Jihoon had to swallow back his desire as his eyes landed on your beautiful chest for the first time.

“You’re so gorgeous, (Y/N).” He breathed and you laughed.

“I barely have gotten any clothes off!”

“Yes, but even looking at you like this drives me insane.” Jihoon smirked, leaning down to nibble at your ear. He immediately wanted your bra off, and he assured you that it was pretty... but it was in the way. You arched your back, letting him slip his nimble fingers behind you so he could undo your bra and toss it wherever he pleased. You watched his eyes widen in awe at the sight of you.

“Oh God, baby.” He breathed, letting his fingers trace your nipples softly, causing you to jerk slightly. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long.”

“So have I.” You were breathless, even at his simple touches to your breasts. Jihoon smiled softly at your response and gave your nipples a few more flicks before leaning down, wrapping his lips around one of them and sucking gently. You couldn’t contain your mewl, arching your back as pleasure raced through your body. His lips felt heavenly on your breast, sucking and kissing the sensitive bud, his hand palming the other breast. You had felt wetness pooling between your thighs the minute you began kissing Jihoon, but now you were so wet that it was unbearable and you were aching to get out of your pants. Your back would arch deeply any time Jihoon swirled his tongue around your nipple and you were becoming more and more desperate.

“P-please.” You finally whimpered, and Jihoon made eye contact with you while keeping his lips on your breast. He felt his cock twitch as he saw the pleading look in your eyes, and it turned him on to no end that you were as desperate as he was to do this. He parted from your nipple with a soft ‘pop’.

“We’ll get there baby, hold on. We’re in no rush.” He soothed you, moving his lips to give your other nipple the same amount of blissful attention. You were becoming impatient, your core aching with anticipation, but Jihoon was working sinful magic on your body and you knew you still had a long ways to go before it was finally time for the main event. You suddenly felt Jihoon’s fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down gently. You sighed in relief and helped kick them off your legs. You shivered as Jihoon slowly slid a hand up your thigh as he stared at you.

“Are you wet for me?” He whispered sultrily and you felt your core clench around nothing. You couldn’t reply, your mind instead intensely focused on Jihoon’s hand creeping up your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most. You nodded your head meekly.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” His tone was sharp and you shot your eyes up to meet his, shocked and aroused by his sudden change in personality.

“Y-yes.” You replied.

“Good girl. Let me see just how wet you are for me.” He began to dip a finger into your panties but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Wait, Jihoon. Please take off your clothes.” You requested. Jihoon chuckled but obliged, your mouth beginning to water as he undressed, your eyes finding his boxers and his erection pressing against them, begging for release. Your hands immediately found Jihoon’s chest, massaging the toned muscles gently, earning a groan of satisfaction from him. You were expecting him to continue his mission of sliding his fingers into your panties, like he had been doing before you asked him to remove his clothing. Yet, it seemed he had changed his mind, his mouth now instead wandering your almost-bare body. His lips kissed and sucked angry red marks down your chest and stomach, not planning on stopping any time soon. As he worshipped your body with his lips, his free hand reached for yours, instantly intertwining your fingers and squeezing lovingly. You were utterly confused by the way his demeanor kept changing throughout the whole thing. One minute, he was demanded you to speak up, the next, he was holding onto your hand with a gentle grip that seemed to convey the message that he would never let go of you.

You loved both sides of him, but his dominating side was one that you had only seen glimpses of, mainly when he was jealous or feeling possessive. Curiosity and mischief ran through your body, your mind wondering what he would be like if he switched in bed and fully dominated you. You let your curiosity take over and you decided to test him. You took your knee as Jihoon began kissing your abdomen, and softly brushed it against his straining cock. He let out a low groan, his lips pulling away from your stomach for only a moment before they returned again. You repeated your acting, pushing your knee against him a bit harder.

“(Y/N)...don’t tease me.” He was looking at you now, and you almost couldn’t hold back your smile. You disobeyed, rubbing his cock thoroughly with your knee.

“Don’t.” He begged breathlessly. You weren’t listening. Wanting to push him over the edge of his patience, you tried to grind your leg against him one more time-

Jihoon snapped up to sit on his knees in-between your legs, his hand finding your thigh and pushing your leg up into the air so fast that you gasped in shock, his other hand immediately coming down with a harsh smack to your exposed ass. You cried out.

“You’re so stubborn.” He hissed with a hint of admiration in his tone, rubbing the spot on your ass that he had just slapped.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

All you could do was stare at him and at the way he was holding one of your legs close to your chest so it lifted your butt off the couch, his other palm massaging your stinging cheek. His concealed dominant side was slipping out slightly.

“Answer me.” He demanded. Yes. You thought. God yes. You were loving this side of him. You were nervous to see his dominating side, yet exhilarated at the same time.

“No.” You lied. Jihoon hummed.

“Are you lying to me, baby girl?” He purred. You swallowed, not wanted to admit to him that you were trying to get him to snap. It took you too long for Jihoon’s liking for you to respond and he delivered another sinful smack to your ass. You moaned at the pleasure of it. Jihoon bit his lip at the delicious noise that left your feminine lips. Before he could scold you again, you quickly spoke.

“I want you.” Was all you could say. Jihoon chuckled.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He was smirking as his hand moved to massage your upper thigh. All you wanted was his fingers sliding through your slick folds, dipping in and out of your aching entrance.

“Are you that impatient? Even though it’s our first time? God, how long have you wanted me like this, baby?” His voice was incredibly melodic and it made you shiver. Jihoon was scolding you for your impatience, yet he was just as needy as you. He was physically holding his desire back, making himself go slow, so that you would feel safe.

“For a really long time. Please, Jihoon. I want you.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped violently at your words. He gently putting your leg back down and shifted to hover over you again. Even though you had teased him, provoked him to let his dominant side out, the way you looked underneath him, so innocent and gorgeous, made him want to make love to you slowly and passionately. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

“I know our hormones are running crazy right now because this is all new and we’ve both wanted each other for so long. But, I want to be gentle with you, baby. I want to go slow with you. I want to draw out the pleasure as long as possible and make our first time amazing.” He made intense eye contact with you and you smiled.

He was right. He was so right. This was your first time together. It’s supposed to be slow and experimental.

“I would like that.” You ran your fingers through Jihoon’s hair. He sighed in relief.

“I do have to say though... I didn’t mind you spanking me.” You laughed awkwardly and your cheeks heated up. Jihoon raised an eyebrow at you.

“Really? Well, let’s keep that in mind for next time then.” He smirked and you blushed harder. He pushed his lips into yours for the millionth time that night, sighing at the simple, yet blissful feeling of his mouth on yours. Your hands wandered his body eagerly as your lips sensually played with his. You pulled away suddenly, wanting to put your lips on Jihoon’s neck. You reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging slightly so that his neck was exposed to you and used your other hand to push down on his upper back so that he was closer to you. You let out a soft moan of satisfaction as soon as your lips met his neck, and you immediately began to suck on the sensitive skin. Jihoon let out a low groan of pleasure, rutting his hips into your thigh, letting you feel his erection.

You smiled against his neck before giving him a soft nibble. Jihoon hissed and you pulled back a little, your hot breath hitting his neck, making him shiver.

“Did I hurt you?” You asked.

“No, I like it. Keep going, doll.” His voice sounded desperate and you didn’t deny him, resuming your work of leaving a deep hickey for him to stare at for the next few days. He continued letting out soft groans as you worked on him, his fingers eventually dancing around the waistband of your panties. You bucked your hips into his hand, letting him know he had a green light to continue and that you wanted it. He eagerly freed you of your panties before bringing his fingers back to ghost over your folds. He slightly pressed a finger to your soaked lips and your breath hitched, your mouth parting from Jihoon’s neck. It was the simplest touch, yet it sent shock-waves throughout your body. You instinctively spread your legs as wide as the constraints of the couch would let you, a silent plea for Jihoon to finger you properly.

“That’s a good girl.” He cooed, smiling at your action of opening your legs for him. You released your firm hold on Jihoon’s hair and he instantly looked down at you when you did, so he could watch your face as he touched you. He glided his fingers down your folds and you mewled hoarsely.

Jihoon bit his lip, his desire sky rocketing through the roof.

“So wet...” He trailed off, experimentally flicking his thumb over your swollen clit. You hissed, wrapping your arms around Jihoon’s waist as he continued the action gently.

“Please.” It was a vague request but Jihoon understood. He slipped a finger lower, teasing your dripping entrance. He circled around it once, agonizingly slow, and you bucked your hips impatiently into his finger.

“Yes. Please.” You begged him again, and Jihoon was biting his lip so hard that it hurt as he watched your stunning expressions of pleasure. He didn’t have the self-control anymore to tease you, and he slowly eased his digit into you. You whined in relief, squeezing Jihoon’s shoulders tightly. His eyes widened as he pushed his finger inside of you, surprised at how tight you were just around his single digit. His mouth watered at the thought of what you would feel like around his cock, which was much thicker than his finger. He pulled his digit out, just to slowly ease it back in. His simple movements already had your back arching, your soft moans filling the living room. You opened your eyes, which had been closed for the past few moments to focus on the pleasure, and you noticed Jihoon’s watchful gaze down at you. You smiled at him and he returned it. You quickly realized that he was giving you all the pleasure, so you decided to share.

You slipped your hand down Jihoon’s chest, his muscles tensing at your warm touch. Your fingers quickly found their destination and Jihoon let out a loud moan, his breath stuttering as you pressed your hand against his hard cock through his underwear. He groaned as you begin to palm him gently, and he instinctively added another finger inside of you. You whimpered at this, closing your eyes again and letting yourself focus on the pleasure Jihoon was giving you, and that you were giving him. You fondled his cock a bit longer before grabbing the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with Jihoon’s assistance. Your hand instantly found his cock again, Jihoon’s breath hitching at the feeling of your soft skin on his. You rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading pre-cum generously before beginning to pump him softly. Jihoon’s eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, a drop of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

In a desperate attempt to muffle his pathetic moans, Jihoon slammed his lips into yours, still focusing on fingering you expertly. You took his lips willingly, your body beginning to shake at the overstimulation of Jihoon fingering and kissing you, along with your hand pumping his cock as well. You were aroused to no end, your hand unknowingly speeding up on Jihoon’s member as you began to lose your cool from all the attacks on all five senses at the same time. You whimpered, your legs shaking as Jihoon rubbed circles into your clit, his fingers going in and out quicker.

He was whispering your name but you didn’t hear it. His head had dropped into your neck but you didn’t know it, you were so overwhelmed, your eyes closed, that you didn’t realize you were pumping Jihoon insanely fast, his orgasm skyrocketing towards him. You couldn’t hear him gasping for breath, in shock at how amazing your hand was around him. Your mind was on cloud nine. But suddenly, Jihoon’s body was shaking and he jerked to grip your wrist tightly.

“A-ah!” He cried out. “Shit, (Y/N), stop.” Your eyes snapped open, your mind coming back to reality. Your hand froze on his cock froze and Jihoon released your wrist, shakily pushing himself back up on his arms to hover over you. His cheeks were extremely pink and he was out of breath. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Were you about to cum?” You asked. Jihoon nodded and laughed breathlessly, giving your cheek a quick kiss.

“How is your hand so good?” He moaned, giving you a few more kisses. “We’ll have to try that again later. But for now, I don’t want to cum quite yet.”

He stood up from the couch and walked to the bedroom, your body suddenly feeling very cold without him. He returned quickly, tearing open a foil packet with his mouth. Your heart raced as you watched him. You admired his naked body as he walked over to you, his alluring pale skin, his broad shoulders, his dark eyes, and of course his member, dripping with pre-cum. Lust raged through your body and you wanted him inside of you instantly. You brought your eyes back to meet his and you realized Jihoon was eating you up with his eyes as well, his gaze lingering on your pussy for several moments before continuing back up. He licked his lips quickly and you blushed.

“You’re so gorgeous. And insanely perfect.” He murmured and your flush deepened. Jihoon chuckled at your cute reaction and slipped the condom onto his cock before getting on top of you again. Your body immediately felt warm once again and you smiled as Jihoon began giving you quick, yet deep kisses.

“Are you ready?” He paused and looked you in the eyes, searching them for any hint of hesitation or worry.

“More than ready.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ll go at whatever pace you need me to. Just tell me when it’s good, okay?” Jihoon was softly pushing your shaking thighs apart and you nodded in reply. He smiled and placed a few more kisses on your breasts.

“Good girl.” He sighed and gave himself a few quick pumps before aligning himself with your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slowly pushed in with a grunt, your arms around his neck squeezing tighter. Jihoon held himself back, eyeing your facial expressions as he inched himself into you. You looked incredible. Your head was thrown back in pleasure and your mouth was agape. Jihoon moaned softly at the sight.

“More.” You hissed and Jihoon obliged, pushing himself in the rest of the way. You both moaned as he bottomed out.

“Oh, shit.” Jihoon swore. “You feel so good, (Y/N). You’re so tight.” You hummed in response, the sting from him stretching you slowly fading away. He kissed your lips, staying still so that you could get used to the fit.

“I love you so much.” He whispered in between kisses.

“I love you too.” You lifted one arm from around Jihoon’s neck and laced your fingers into his hair. “You can move now.”

Jihoon nodded, pulling almost all the way out of you before pushing back in gently. You moaned loudly, biting your lip to cover the noise.

“Don’t do that, baby.” Jihoon added hoarsely as he thrusted into you again. “Let me hear your noises.”

You obeyed his request, letting go of your lip and letting yourself moan freely as Jihoon made love to you slowly.

“That’s it.” He smiled proudly.

“A-a little faster.” You instructed and Jihoon didn’t need to be asked twice, picking up his pace noticeably. He groaned in satisfaction, the sound of how wet you were mixed with his thrusts driving him crazy.

“So good... its so good...” He murmured, in awe of how amazing you felt around him. Jihoon gave you a particular hard thrust and you cried out, your core clenching around him at its own will.

“O-oh holy shit.” He whimpered at the feeling of you clenching and you purposefully made yourself tighten around him again, causing him to groan decadently.

“Oh God, It feels so amazing when you tighten around me, baby girl. Are you alright?” He asked you and you nodded, moving your hands to hold his upper back.

“It feels so good, Jihoon. I want more.” You whined, pushing your head back against the couch.

“You can have as much of me as you want.” Jihoon replied, picking up his speed once again, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the air.

“Ah, o-oh my God..” You were a moaning mess underneath Jihoon, squirming and writhing as a pleasurable knot in your stomach began to tighten.

“Oh Jihoon! I’m close! Please, please faster!” You begged him and he began to thrust into you mercilessly.

“Fuck, Say my name like that again, (Y/N).” Jihoon’s hands found yours and he intertwined his fingers into them as he fucked you with every bit of built up passion he had developed since the two of you started dating. His hips snapped into you and you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh, Jihoon.” You whined his name and he groaned.

“Say it again.” He was out of breath but his tone was still firm.

“A-ah Jihoon! I’m all yours.” You gasped. Jihoon’s cock twitched at your breathless words and he suddenly realized he was nearing his end.

“I’m c-close.” He managed and you were feeling the exact same way, the knot in your stomach rising, threatening to overflow. You thought you still had some time left, but when Jihoon’s thumb met your swollen clit, your whole body was jerking and you were clinging onto his back for dear life. A gorgeous cry escaped your lips and Jihoon was shaking, rubbing merciless circles around your bundle of nerves. You tried to hold on, to last a little longer and draw out the pleasure as long as possible, but Jihoon rubbed your clit harder and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Please cum for me, (Y/N). Please.”

You came instantly, digging your nails into Jihoon’s back, your toes curling and crying out helplessly as your orgasm hit you in waves so strong, each one caused your whole body to jerk with it.

One look at your stunning orgasmic expression and the blissful feeling of your core clenching around his cock, and Jihoon’s thrusts became erratic. He grunted with effort at each labored push into you. His orgasm hit him suddenly a few seconds after yours and he was moaning into your neck, repeating your name as he released.

For several moments, the only thing that could be heard was you and Jihoon’s labored breathing as he laid on top of you. Finally, he shifted slightly so he could see you.

“Are you okay?” He asked worriedly and your heart fluttered.

“More than okay.” You began to massage his shoulders and he hummed.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. You were amazing.” You gave his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“So were you.” Jihoon lazily lifted his head to give you a quick peck on the lips. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Jihoon.”

After Jihoon insisted he helped you wash up by wiping you down gently with a wet towel, the both of you opted to lay in each other’s arms and sleep on the couch for the rest of the night. Jihoon requested that you sleep together naked, and when you gave him a look of mock annoyance he replied with,

“Why wear pajamas when they’re not needed?”

A/N: Ahhhh well... I don’t think this is nearly as good as my Minghao “First Time” smut tbh... I felt a lot of pressure to make this one as good and I ended up being disappointed. Well, I hope someone enjoyed it!

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