#I had forgotten about the briefing room fic completely!!! but I love it so much!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mingirn · 8 months ago

Text

only lovers alive

song mingi x reader

synopsis: you return back home after graduating college to a new relationship you have to navigate with your childhood best friend

warnings: smut, a lot of mentions of sexual acts, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, dirty talk, phone sex, sort of (very brief) exhibitionism, gender neutral reader

word count: 20,3k

notes: hello. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 1-2 years and saw a tweet that said ”i’d pick you up from the airport in every universe” and decided to let this out of jail bc of that. although the fic itself is inspired by this song. fic title comes from this song. i’m gonna schedule this to post while i’m asleep because i’m terrified to post after not being on here for such a long time. please be gentle with me >:(

It’s dark outside your window, but the streets are lit up by countless glimmering lights. Even though the day is turning into night, there’s still plenty of traffic. Beaming headlights join the streams of light from street lamps, and it’s just your apartment that is missing a glow from a lamp on its windowsill. You’ve got all yours packed up and sent away already, and you’re taking in the city for the last time.

”Are you going to miss it?” Mingis's voice is soft on the other end of the phone. You’ve got him on speaker, lying right next to you.

”I guess, yeah. It’s been nice, even though I haven’t spent much time exploring or enjoying the city.”

It’s true. You’ve just finished your last semester and finally graduated after moving hours away from your hometown to go to your dream school. It feels like eons since then, when you had to say tearful goodbyes to your friends and family and settle down in a cramped little dorm room. You’d been lucky enough to get student housing in your last year, a bigger place where you’d been living for the past two semesters. This city wasn’t just a stark difference to your hometown, it was the definition of complete and total opposite.

The town you grew up in was the type to hide, not really forgotten, just barely there. Small and tucked away between long stretches of forests and fields. You’d be blessed to live there your whole life, yet lucky to get away. You’d go home to visit during summer break and just bask in how simple life was back home, but beyond all, how it was still home to all the things you held most dear. Top of that list: Mingi.

”You’ll always be able to go back, maybe we can go during the summer and you can take me to that Chinese place you’ve talked so much about,” Mingi says. He’s starting to sound a little sleepy, and it’s a reminder that you should probably get to sleep soon. You’ve got an early flight to catch, then it’s just a span of a few hours separating you and Mingi. He’ll be coming to pick you up, so you suppose you better let him go too so he can get some sleep.

”You know I’d love that,” you smile, and slump down on your bed. ”I think we should head to bed though, maybe we should leave this future talk for some other time.”

He hums in agreement, and the line goes quiet for a minute. You can hear his breathing through the speaker, slow and steady. When you close your eyes it’s almost like he’s here.

”Hey, uh,” he begins, and he swallows audibly. ”Do you think it’s gonna be weird?”

Ah, there it is. You’ve almost been waiting, expecting, him to ask it.

”No, I don’t… It’s not like we haven’t seen each other since I moved away. We’ve spent almost all of the last three summers together, right?” you reason. It’s not really what Mingi is referring to, but you have to start somewhere. Soften him up, reassure him.

”Well yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just different because we weren’t doing those things then, and now it’s… well, different.”

”Mingi,” you say with firmness in your voice. ”It would only be different if you said and did all those things just because it was over the phone. If you didn’t mean any of it.”

Mingi takes another moment of silence, and you can imagine that he’s probably chewing nervously on his bottom lip. It makes you a bit nervous as well, the fact that you can’t see him. You’d always been so good at reading his face and figuring out what he was thinking. You need that more than ever now, the ability to read him, because so much has changed.

”I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said,” he says, and something about the words feels so heavy and serious, and he seems to realize it too. ”I really, really want to fuck you, not just over the phone.”

Mingis voice is normal when he says it, not a hint of underlying desire or desperation, but the words themselves send a flash of warmth through your body. It’s become regular at this point, this shift in your friendship. The first time you guys crossed over that invisible line had been under the influence of alcohol, you had come home drunk from the bar after celebrating good test results with some friends and Mingi had been celebrating getting a new job with your mutual friends back at home. It just sort of happened, you dialing his number and gushing about how much you missed him. The conversation went on for half an hour when you started trying to undress from your bar clothes and Mingi had asked what you were doing. He’d asked about what you were wearing, and what color your underwear was, then he informed you that he was just in his boxers, and for some reason you found yourself telling him about how sexually frustrated you had been lately in hopes that he’d offer help. And he did.

That first night it was quick and needy, neither of you initiated it, it just happened in perfect symbiosis. You checked the call log the day after and saw that you guys had been on the phone for hours, the last of which you had both eventually fallen asleep on call until your phone battery died. Tentatively, you had called him during the afternoon and asked him if he had any recollection of yesterday night's events. His voice had been raspy and breathy, throat raw from drinking and moaning, and you can still remember every inflection in the tone of his voice when he asked if you had liked it. That had been the start of it all, of an almost full year of phone sex, sexting, and swapping pictures.

”I’m glad to hear that,” you say, trying to sound just as casual even though you can feel butterflies swirl through your stomach. ”I really can’t wait, Mingi. Can’t wait to fuck you and can’t wait to see you, I’ve missed you so much.”

”I’ve missed you too… Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport, just look for a handsome tall guy!”

You fall asleep with Mingis laugh ringing in your ears.

The next day, your plane lands at a far emptier airport than the one you’d set off from. It’s early in the day and the sun is high in the sky, occasionally passing behind weak and thin clouds. The air is so different out here than in the big city. The sounds are clearer, the people are kinder, and everything feels so much more simple here.

You sit on a hard airport bench and wait as your phone connects to the internet after having been turned off, seeing all your missed messages coming in. You’re just about to type up a response to Mingis ’You there?’ when a call from him pops up on the screen.

”Yeah, I’m here!” you chirp into the phone.

”’Here’ where? I’m just walking around and-”

”Mingi, you idiot, turn around!” you call out loud enough for him to hear it on the phone and in person, though he’s quite a distance away from you. You could recognize the back of his head anywhere, even though it’s short and bleached blond right now, it’s undeniably Mingi.

He spins around and spots you right away, making eye contact with you across the big, open space. Seeing Mingi in person for the first time in months washes away all nervosity, all the same as it stirs up a new sense of anticipation. You jump to your feet and you're both rushing towards each other, crashing together in a tight hug.

You find yourself closing your eyes, tucking your head into his chest, and inhaling his scent until it makes you lightheaded. He smells just like your Mingi, that same cologne he’s worn since he was 15, the same laundry detergent, and he smells faintly of sunscreen. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged him, not by a long shot, but it feels like the first time you’ve held him like this. Your arms around his middle, taking note of how big he feels in your hold, and you’re thinking about every little detail you’ve missed out on by being away from him. His warmth, his touch, his size, his voice.

”Hi there,” he murmurs, and his voice is so different up close. It’s deeper and darker, it reverberates through his chest. ”Was the flight okay?”

Something about the conversation he’s initiating makes you feel like now is the appropriate time to pull away, and that in turn has you questioning how appropriate that hug had been on your part. Mingi, however, feels cool as ice when he grabs hold of your bag and slings his arm around your shoulder to guide you out of the airport.

”Uh,” you begin, feeling a bit stumped. You continue, ”It was as good as you can expect, but the food sucked, I can’t wait to get home and eat my mom's cooking.”

”Tired of ramen and takeout?” he asks, chuckling.

”You could say that.”

You try to move on past your own weirdness. Mingi is normal and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be as well. Still, there’s a sort of buzz igniting under your skin from being in Mingi's presence again. You suppose it’s always like that, this initial excitement of seeing each other again and getting to update each other on all the things you’ve been up to while knowing you’ve got all the time in the world to hang out. But there’s this nagging voice at the back of your head that is frantically going through all the conversations you’ve had with Mingi on the phone. Late at night, underneath your covers, with Mingi moaning and speaking filth on the speaker. It doesn’t match up with the Mingi in front of you, the Mingi that has been your closest friend for years, and it makes you feel electric.

Mingi pops his trunk open and you load your bags into his car, then get inside and start the half-hour drive back to your hometown.

You only dare to steal little glances over at him. Watching him in the rearview mirror, seeing the sun set his brown eyes ablaze and paint his skin golden. His fingers strum along to the song on the radio on the steering wheel, he’s wearing a single ring on his right hand and his skin is already tanned even though summer has just begun. It’s almost like you’re meeting him all over again with the way you’re soaking in every inch of him, yet it’s forcefully clear to you that none of this is new. Perhaps that would have made it easier if he had just been a stranger where the slate was clean, but this is Mingi and there are things you’re both gonna need to navigate.

You’d foolishly expected that he’d lean in and steal at least a kiss but perhaps more right away, when you were still parked at the airport. More accurately, you had hoped so. It’s all you guys had been talking about for the past months, all the ways you’d want to ravage each other when you finally were face to face again. Apparently, Mingi thinks that can wait.

So you turn your head away, try not to look over at him or imagine his hand holding your thigh instead of the steering wheel. Instead, you focus your attention on the trees outside, and Talking Heads on the radio.

”Do you still like this song?” Mingi asks you. He takes a turn, and this is where the road gets lonesome and there’s more nature than buildings. The song playing is ’This Must be the Place’, and you know Mingi is asking because you’d been the one that bought him this CD for his birthday.

”I could never outgrow Talking Heads, you know that,” you smile at him. You’re starting to settle in now. The fields and the trees are so familiar, the air smells like your childhood, and Mingi is humming along to music you’ve listened to for years. You can do this, it’s not going to be weird, it’s still your best friend Mingi.

The ride back home starts to fill up with idle chatter. You’d think that you’d have run out of topics to talk about by now, seeing as you’d talk on the phone almost every day, but you still find new things to bring up. He parks his car in the driveway outside your house and helps you carry your luggage, all while giggling and joking with you.

It’s only been a year since you’ve been home, you hadn’t been able to come during Christmas, but that’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent away from this very house. Not much has changed, your parents have kept your room exactly like you had left it, but something just feels different. It feels smaller, or you feel bigger. You catch a glimpse of Mingi in your doorway as you start unpacking your bags and for a second your abdomen flutters when you notice just how much of the door opening he can shield with his body. He has filled out a lot, and this shouldn’t be a surprise because you’d noticed it plenty of times before when you came home to visit. You suppose it’s not a surprise, but it’s the first time you’ve felt appreciation for it.

Of course, you had fantasized about his body since you entered his whole thing, and he had sent a lot of pictures that had helped you out with that, but seeing it in person is an entirely new ordeal. You feel your face heat up as your mind flicks through memories of pictures he’s sent you of himself naked, knowing what he looks like underneath his clothes. You have to wonder if Mingis mind is running in the same circles, if he’s as hyperaware of your skin as you are of his, and how he’s able to contain himself as well as he does if that’s the case. You hardly can’t.

”So,” Mingi begins. Your stomach lurches and plunges every time he pauses between words, fearing what may come next. Maybe this is when he breaks your heart and tells you he can’t do what you’ve been speaking about, that it’s just not the same when you’re face to face. You try to seem unbothered by your racing thoughts and decide to hear him out first. He continues, ”Uh, what now? Do you need any more help?”

”No, I’m all good, Mingi,” You’re rifling through clothes and belongings, lining them up on your bed. You can physically feel him behind you in your room as if he’s radiating this electricity and warmth that has your skin tingling.

”Maybe I should get going then. You know, to let you settle in.” You can hear him shift his weight between his feet. It suddenly feels unbearably awkward and strained between you two, and you know that if you keep your back to him it will only get worse. You need to face this head-on, cut through the tension, or at least pretend like the heavy atmosphere isn’t weighing you down.

You don’t want to let Mingi leave like this, without either one of you addressing things. If he leaves like this, with things unspoken and forgotten, the next time you see him it will be like nothing has ever happened. He’ll be right next to you but somehow further away than ever.

You guess you shouldn’t have expected to jump each other's bones the second you saw each other. Maybe that was unrealistic, but it had just felt that way on the phone. You suppose this is more natural, maybe you just have to stick it out until you’re used to being in the same room.

This Mingi in front of you is an entire world different than the one you’d grown up with. Despite the fact that everything is the same, that he’s in your childhood room and the sun is shining through the window just the same. The beam of light illuminates him directly, making his tan skin radiate.

You’re admiring him when he steps forward and closes the distance between you. Only the birds are singing outside your window, but in the total silence of your room, you can hear Mingi suck in a shaky breath before he leans forward and kisses you.

Time stills, the earth feels like it’s tilting or tipping, as if the very makeup of the universe is now irreversibly changed. Mingis mouth is warm and gentle but he’s keeping a pressure that has your mind whirling, just the way he’s kissing you with so much intent. You’re both breathing heavily and the air escaping his nose is so sweet that you can’t stop yourself from inhaling as much as possible, dizzying yourself to consume every bit of him that you can.

He’s already close, but he shuffles even nearer without breaking apart from the kiss. You can now feel his body against yours and Mingi moves his hands up to hold each side of your head, keeping you in place as he kisses and licks into your mouth. For some reason you’re so very present inside your head, thinking about each little detail of the way he kisses, reminding yourself to remember this moment forever.

You can feel when he starts to pull away so you chase after him, deepening the kiss for another second before he parts from it entirely. He’s just as breathless as you are, and there’s something in Mingi's eyes that you’ve never seen before. He focuses on your lips and leans in for another kiss that ends a moment too quickly.

Mingis hand ruffles your hair up, and his voice is laced with a laugh when he says a drawn-out ’bye’ and leaves your room.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, can hear the blood pumping and wooshing from it all the way through your body, throughout each delicate vein in your ears. Your lips are tingling when you reach up to touch them, almost in disbelief at the fact that Mingi had just been kissing you right there. Your mouth is slick with his spit, and your finger moves cardinally to gather it up and plunge into your mouth so you can savor it.

You fall down on the bed, staring up at your ceiling, and close your eyes to relive the kiss as you imagine what it will be like the next time you see Mingi.

Almost a full week passes until you see him again. Your family practically swarms you for the first few days, your parents being overjoyed to have you back invite your grandparents to welcome you home and your favorite aunt comes to see you with your two young cousins. You get unpacked quickly enough, when you manage to find time between family visits and long drawn-out meals, and before you know it five days have passed. Mingi stays busy too though, he sends a few occasional texts about work and though he lives right across from you, you never even catch a glimpse of him.

Sometimes you lay in your bed at night and feel your heart race up at the thought that there is only a few yards of grass and asphalt road between the two of you. It’s a massive change from the last three years when you had been miles and miles apart. Now, it feels almost like you can sense him. Just across the street, breathing and shuffling in bed. You can picture him so well, long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone, his skin flushed from sleep, his long limbs tangled up in a thin blanket. Your hand slips inside your underwear with a hot fire fueled by embarrassment and insecurity burning in your stomach.

Your imagination moves between recollections of words he’s spoken and pictures he’s sent, to the image of him in his bed right now. He’s so very close, but so very unaware of how much that precise fact affects you. Each day away from him only tightens the strings in your body and you grow more frustrated that you haven’t actualized any of the promises you’d made on the phone. At the same time, you find yourself quietly thankful for the imposed distance. Mingi isn’t even here, but he still has such an impact on you that it has you rushedly getting yourself off with your face buried in your pillow to keep quiet.

You’re so deeply affected by all this, while Mingi is fine. You’re the one busy, but when Mingi comes home from work and has some downtime he doesn’t even text to see if you can spend time. Seemingly, he doesn’t care to find out when you can see each other again.

On day six you’re sitting in your garden with your mom and aunt. Your cousins are playing in the grass in front of you and calling for your attention. The sun is high and hot in the sky, and Mingis car has been home for a few hours. You’ve checked your phone multiple times to make sure it’s not on silent, or if you’ve somehow missed a text from him, but it’s been quiet all day.

Then, a car pulls up to Mingi's house. You recognize it in an instant, it’s Yunhos old Camaro that he had inherited from his dad when he got his license, the same car he’d posted a thousand pictures of on social media. He had even let you drive it for an entire block two summers ago. The paint job has sparkles of blue in it that glimmer in the sun, and you somehow feel like it’s taunting you. The front door of Mingis house opens and he emerges in a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt that he has cut the sleeves off of, and he’s got a pair of sunglasses sitting on his face. A feeling worse than rejection rushes through you when Yunho rolls down the window and waves to you, finally prompting Mingi to also notice you sitting there.

Mingi raises his hand to wave but the movement is cut shorter than Yunho's enthusiastic full-bodied gesture. Mingi gets in the car and the engine roars as Yunho drives away. The warm air feels bittersweet when it’s filled by the smell of exhaust fumes.

That night you’re lying in bed and you’re inching close to sleep when your room lights up for a second. In the haze of sleep, you assume it to be the headlights of a car, but it happens again until the stream of light persists entirely and you finally get up to look outside your window. It’s clear instantly where it’s coming from because Mingi is hanging halfway out his window with a flashlight in his hand.

Though he’s quite a distance away, you can see him well enough to tell that he’s shirtless and his hair is messy, but your focus is pulled from that to trying to decode what gesture he’s making with his hand. You shrug, and he disappears from his window for a few seconds before he pops back with his phone and starts pointing to it.

You search for your phone and open it to find 4 missed calls from Mingi. His contact picture pops up on your phone and you hurry to answer.

”What the fuck, Mingi?” you whisper into your phone.

”Were you sleeping?” he chuckles, and you can see his shoulders shake with laughter. Every little bit of this makes you want to hang up, or scream, or march right over to his house and have a go at him. How dare he go days without speaking to you, then call you up in the middle of the night and laugh as if you haven’t been in agony this past week? How dare he kiss you breathless in this very room and make no attempts at reliving it?

”No, I was just about to fall asleep!” you huff.

”Why are you whispering?” Mingi asks.

”Because my parents are asleep, dumbass.”

”Hm,” he ponders. ”So that would be a no if I asked you to sneak out and come over?”

You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch at the thought that he wants you to come over in the middle of the night.

”Of course, it’s a no! My mom is already peeved because of Yunho coming by earlier today. She hates how loud that car is. She’s gonna think you’re a bad influence, riding around in that and making me sneak out.”

”Imagine her reaction when she finds out you drove that car before you got your license, and I wasn’t even there. It was all Yunho,” Mingi jokes.

”Shut up! God, my mom has been warning me about him for years. She used to be convinced I was going to end up with him and it was her biggest nightmare,” you say. Your window is cracked to let in some air now that it’s cooler outside. The night is quiet, and all you can hear is Mingi breathing at the other end of the call. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can see that Mingis face is scrunched up.

”You and Yunho?” he scoffs. ”Why would she think that?”

”I don’t know, it’s not like she had any reason to. She’s just weird like that, you know how my mom is.”

It’s silent yet again, Mingi just sighing.

Your stomach does a somersault when a thought strikes you and you have to ask, ”You’re not jealous, are you?”

”Jealous? Of- of Yunho?” Mingi laughs breathlessly. You just hum, and you can’t take your eyes off of him where he’s sitting in his window. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and regains his voice, ”I have no reason to be jealous of him when I’m the one with your nudes in my phone.”

Something about that makes you curl up on yourself, suddenly feeling very shy that you’re only in your underwear and a thin old tank top. It brings up another thought that has plagued you. The pictures you’d sent were all meticulously posed and manipulated to be as appealing as possible. It had been your body, yes, but the most perfect version of it possible. Here, in your pajamas with your skin glistening from sweat, hunched over yourself, you hardly think Mingi can find any resemblance between the picture-perfect version and the one in front of his eyes.

”Oh yeah?” you murmur. You can’t let him see you falter, can’t let him call your bluff. You straighten your back and pretend to be more interested in something under your nails. ”You could have a lot more than just pictures, you know.”

Mingi lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a breath, just audible enough for his phone to pick it up.

”Fuck, look at me,” he says, and you do. You just do.

Mingi stands up, keeping his phone pressed to his ear with one hand while his free hand moves in a long, slow caressing motion down his upper body. It’s your turn to feel jealous now, stupidly jealous of Mingis own hands for getting to touch him. His fingers reach the waistband of his boxers and you nervously stop breathing as you imagine them dipping inside. His hand moves just a bit further down though, where Mingi wraps his entire palm around his dick.

”Can you see that?” he asks. He uses his hand to move his hard cock under the light material of his underwear, making sure to jut his hips out towards the moonlight so you can see every second of his show.

”I can see you, oh my god. Are you out of your mind? Mingi, what if-”

”No one’s around, no one’s gonna see except for you,” he assures you. You lick your lips, thinking back to what Mingis mouth had tasted like.

”You’re crazy,” you whisper to him.

”You make me crazy,” he says with a smirk. ”Would you lift your shirt up for me?”

Your fingers have dug into your thigh without you noticing until now that Mingi is directing attention to your body. There’s so much tension inside your body that your breathing feels labored as if there are coils fastened inside you and everything Mingi says and does tighten up every bit of your internal structure. He has you feeling lightheaded with words alone.

Sensing your hesitance, Mingi speaks again. ”You don’t have to, I just really want to see you.”

The last sentence has you moving without thinking, getting up on your knees on the seat under your window. You take a quick glance around the street and in the windows of nearby neighbors. The whole world is asleep, only you and Mingi are awake.

You use your free hand to pull your tank top as high as possible, exposing your stomach and chest to Mingi who has stopped touching himself and is keeping razor-sharp focus on you.

”You-… Thank you, you’re gorgeous, do I ever tell you that?” Mingi’s voice is low and hushed. Until now he has sounded loud and confident, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that Mingi has gotten shy. He probably didn’t expect you to follow through with his request.

You haven’t spoken in minutes and you’re not sure if you could make any noise without it coming out as a whine, but luckily Mingi speaks up once more.

”Can you get into bed? I’m gonna lay down, please join me, please, would you touch yourself with me?” Mingi pleas. He waits a second for the words to register, for you to spring into action before he does so himself. Part of you wants to stay and keep drinking in the sight of his body, but the expectations of what he’s going to have you doing has you obeying his words.

”I’m in bed now,” your voice is still hushed, and there’s a layer of excitement in it that brings on a wave of embarrassment.

”I am too, I’m gonna- I’m taking my underwear off. It’s been so long, I just need to…” Mingi trails off. His end of the call is muffled, and a little distorted, and you can hear him shuffling to get his boxers off.

”It’s been so long since what?” you ask to clarify.

”Since we last did this, since I last came…” he answers. Fuck.

”Have you not been cumming since we last had phone sex?”

Mingi quiets down for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh.

”Have you?” he asks with a tone in his voice you can’t make out, but it has your cheeks heating up and your entire body running ice cold.

You turn silent now, but it’s clear from how Mingi is laughing under his breath that he doesn’t need an answer from you to know the truth.

”Oh my god. Well, tell me then, how many times have you made yourself cum since our last call?” Mingi asks. He sounds so cocky, so full of himself that you don’t know whether to roll your eyes or shove your hand between your legs and revel in this stupidly hot version of Mingi.

”Maybe two or three times,” you mumble, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

”Let's just pretend I believe that. What have you been thinking about?”

You whine, feeling your entire body surge with shame and humiliation. Despite all of it, you’ve bunched up your blanket between your legs and without thinking about it you’ve started rutting against it slowly.

”Mingi, please…”

”Tell me.”

”I think about you. I always do. I’ve been thinking about that kiss, and-…” Your thought is interrupted by a sound on the other end of the line, along with Mingis soft hums. ”Mingi, are you jacking off to me telling you I fantasize about you?”

”I’m jacking off to your voice,” he says so matter of fact it knocks the air out of you. He continues, ”The fact that it’s about me only makes it better.”

”Oh my god,” you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your hand move where you need it most. Mingis voice is sweet and gentle as he moans with each stroke, and his phone is so close to his mouth you’re tricked into believing he’s right next to you, breathing and huffing.

”I wish you were here right now,” he says, sort of under his breath, a little quiet. It feels a little secretive when he says it, like when you were younger and he would have you turn your back to him as he did the same. With your backs pressed together, he would tell you all his deepest secrets, and when you’d turn around again you would both pretend like nothing had happened. It’s a memory you have replayed a lot more recently than ever before, just due to how similar it feels to this arrangement you have with Mingi. As long as you aren’t faced with each other, as long as your backs are turned you can do and say whatever you want.

Instead of sulking about it, you force yourself to play along.

”I do too, I need you so bad,” you whisper, and none of it is a lie.

”Need to see you cum for me, fuck, I need you to make me cum,” he moans. It echoes through your entire head, that moan and those words, and it has you rolling onto your back and pulling your underwear down your legs so you can touch yourself properly.

”You’ll make me cum just by saying that, Mingi,” you say, pathetically so. Something about Mingi has you reaching the edge faster than anything else.

”Fuck, me too. Just hearing you say my name is enough to make me cum right now. I’ve never felt this fucking good,” Mingi groans.

”Mingi,” you let out again, out of pure instinct. ”Mingi, please give me permission to cum, I need it, please!”

He does, in a string of words and breathless moans he allows you to cum with him. Your orgasm rolls through your entire body in a blinding flash, and by the time it’s over you can’t gauge if multiple minutes or just a few seconds have passed. Your phone is pressed so tight to your ear that pearls of sweat coat the screen.

”You there?” Mingis voice is raspy, all fucked out.

You come to, clearing your throat, ”I’m here, sorry. Holy shit.”

”What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. You don’t have time to feel overjoyed or even finish your train of thought (of oh, fuck, it’s finally happening) before Mingi continues, ”Yunho’s throwing this… thing, at his house. There’s gonna be a barbeque, we’re gonna get drinks, and he says it’s going to be chill but you know how he is. It’s gonna end up being a party by the end of the night.”

You’re staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Mingi helped you set up when you were 15, and the answer is so obvious you don’t have to think about it.

”Yeah, I’ll go with you,” you respond.

”Well… I’ll take you, but maybe we shouldn’t make it too obvious when we’re there. All of our friends will be there, maybe it’s best to lay low?”

You clench your eyes shut. It makes you want to scream so loud it’d pierce your wall and travel across the street and through to his bedroom. A week ago he had been so concerned about things turning weird between you two and you’d written it off as a worry about your friendship, about how things would change after all the words and naked pictures you had exchanged. You hadn’t considered for a second that Mingi would be concerned for his reputation.

”Yeah,” you mutter. ”No, yeah, you’re right.”

”Okay then,” he says, so cheerily that you feel shame wash over you. ”I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five then?”

You hum in response and swap goodbyes before he ends the call and the beeps ring through your ear.

Your sleep that night is weighed down by a worry you can't dispel even after you wake up. You hardly feel rested, and your parent's voices barely register when they speak to you at breakfast. A lot of thoughts linger in your head, unshakeable doubts about whether things with Mingi are really going to be as okay as you had thought when you were in school.

Things had felt so much simpler then, like this steadfast belief that it would be just as it had always been. You had returned every single summer and were able to pick back up your friendship with Mingi with no trouble, despite all the months you had spent apart.

At least you would get to see all your friends again. Summer being in full swing would mean that everyone would be at their happiest, most free, possibly stupid, and risky behavior.

The day passes by sluggishly, you're merely counting down the hours. You try to read a book while lying in the sun in your backyard, but find that the words just flow together. You check your phone and see the half-hour call in your log from yesterday night, you’re just staring at Mingi's name and contact picture. It's just letters and numbers on a screen, but it's also a journal of your entire relationship. You can go back and see every single one, remember where things had started and where things had escalated. It took you weeks to send the first suggestive pictures to each other and they had been modest back then. A picture of your dark silhouette in the mirror, and Mingi replying with a blurry picture of his thighs in the dark of his room.

It's just another reminder that what you've got with Mingi is all contained in this piece of technology you can fit in your hand. Nothing is real or tangible, except for a few minutes of kissing. That's all you've got that counts as something; Mingi kissing you in your childhood bedroom for a few very good minutes before departing and ignoring you for days.

The kiss lives vividly in your head as you shower and get dressed.

You're sitting on your windowsill and watching the clock tick closer to five when the front door of Mingis house opens and he walks outside. He's got a pair of sunglasses on that he lifts off of his nose to peek up at your window, and when he spots you he waves and motions for you to come down.

You float down the stairs and out your door. The air is light and breezy outside despite the way the sun has been beaming down all day. Mingi is dressed in yet another shirt that shows off his arms, the slight tan line from his work t-shirt that he tries to even out is obvious to you up close and you squeeze his arm to tease him for it.

Both of you sit down in his car. The windows are rolled down to let air flow through and Mingi sets the car stereo to a low volume so you can faintly hear Tears for Fears play in the background. The engine hums pleasantly in comparison to Yunhos Camaro when Mingi starts the car. You watch his hands, waiting for him to shift the stick into first gear, but it doesn't happen.

Instead, time moves in both directions, very slowly but all too quickly as he wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. Every single thought that has plagued you throughout the day vanishes the second his lips are on yours. It's replaced by the fact that these same lips had moaned your name less than 24 hours ago, that he had sounded so desperate when he told you he wished you were there.

Mingi deepens the kiss this time, letting it go on for longer than last time. When you have to part from it to take a breath Mingi trails his kisses from the corner of your mouth to under your ear. The kisses are chaste, barely there, but every single one leaves your skin tingling.

He doesn't return to your lips, he pulls back and regains his breath and his smile is so cocky when he reverses the car out of the driveway. You can't help but giggle then, and Mingi turns up the volume to let the music blare through the entire car. This is the Mingi you've missed, the one that drives through your neighborhood and ignores all the grouchy people who turn around and stare disgruntedly. He sings along too loudly, straining his voice to hit notes that sound awful even though you know that he's a great singer.

Everything feels as it always has when you pull up to Yunhos house and there are cars parked up and down the street. Mingi parks and as you're unbuckling your belt you see him look in the rearview mirror, grooming his hair and then wiping his mouth to remove your lip balm. It stings for a second but you don't let it persist. You just get out of his car and the two of you walk towards Yunhos backyard.

There is a voice in the back of your head that reminds you of the distance Mingi puts between you, this very conscious measurement that would leave no doubt for all your friends that you're strictly platonic. You push that away too, and make way towards all your old school friends instead. Seonghwa is the first to pull you into a hug, and it's all you need for the bubble to burst on all your worries.

Soon enough you're all laughing, the backyard is quickly filling with people and Yunho is having a hard time keeping up with all the people demanding a burger. The afternoon air smells just like high school, and the cheap alcohol mixed in the punch is just like the one you used to drink back then. The only difference is that everyone looks so much older, and the conversations have switched from homework, crushes, and drama to future plans and jobs.

"So what now?" Seonghwa asks you when a few hours have passed and the sun is setting. It's not getting dark, the sun is just changing from blue to lilac. You turn to him, feeling the way the alcohol has affected your vision, the way it's swimming a bit.

"What now?" you ask.

"I mean, are you back for good? Are you gonna settle down, get a job, do the whole small-town thing?" he jokes, but the question he poses is a valid one.

"Hm," you ponder for a second, looking up at the sky as if an answer is gonna rain down on you. "I guess I don't know. I need to get a job, but I'll give myself the summer to figure it out. It feels like the last one before things truly.. you know.."

"Change," Seonghwa interjects. "Before we truly grow up."

The conversation quiets for a moment before you both burst into laughter.

"Jesus, we always get so somber, don't we?" Seonghwa laughs.

"Remember prom? We went out for some air and you couldn't stop talking about the universe because you looked up at the stars for a second," you say.

"I don't remember that, I just remember Hongjoong going off on me because I teared up and ruined the makeup he spent an hour doing on me," Seonghwa recollects. You could remember that. You also remembered the eyeshadow Hongjoong had smeared across Mingis's eyelid, the messy dark brown he had lined his eyes with because Mingi refused to stay still for too long.

None of you had brought any dates that night, your entire friend group had decided to just go together and spend the night dancing with each other. When you had gotten a dance with Mingi towards the end of the night his makeup had started running and you had brushed your thumb under his eye. Nothing about that action or the dance, or the night as a whole, had been close to romantic. He had just been Mingi, the same Mingi as always, he walked you home that night with his arm around your shoulder just like he had every day after school.

It's only with the wisdom of hindsight you can identify little actions to speak otherwise. You can't recall what Sans eyes had looked like when you danced with him, but you remember in great detail how the lights had twinkled in Mingi's irises. All you remember from your dance with Wooyoung is that his hands had been too sweaty to hold, but you can go back in your memory to when Mingi had leaned his head on your shoulder and sang along softly to the song that was playing.

"What is it like when you talk to Mingi?" Seonghwa pulls you out of your thoughts. You don't know when your eyes close, but when you open them again the sky is starting to burn a vibrant pink.

"Well... I don't know. It's good. We talk about all sorts of things," you try to sound matter of fact, very casual. Reminding yourself of Mingis words, lay low.

"Yeah, you must," Seonghwa remarks, a chuckle sounding through his voice. It has you turning to him, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Meaning?" you question.

"Just that there must be substance to your conversations, seeing as Mingi excuses himself from every night out when you call," he says.

"Yeah," you attempt to brush it off as a meaningless piece of information, but it feels like a lot more. You didn't know Mingi would rush home to talk to you.

Seonghwa hums, and your eyes are pulled to the ground where you've been digging your heel into the grass.

"I guess you guys have always been closer than the rest of us. Living across from each other, being childhood friends, all that," he says. There's no hidden meaning or intention behind his words, you know Seonghwa well enough to deduct that, but it still feels like he's trying to catch you out.

"Yeah," you repeat, absent-mindedly. "Suppose so."

Seonghwas mouth twitches a little as if he wants to say something else, but he keeps it shut. You're thankful, because even if he can read between the lines of your and Mingi's strange relationship, the fact that he doesn't say it out loud serves as reassurance to you. It's the same thin veil that you and Mingi drape yourselves in. Unspoken meaning unchanged.

A friend comes over and offers to top off your and Seonghwas glasses, and you decide to get up on your feet and move on from the sudden gloom that took over.

The music is loud and the air gets chillier as the clouds twist amongst pink and orange. You’re talking to Yunho and telling him the story about your mom's disapproval of his car when he notices your shoulders quiver with the drop in temperature. He fetches one of his flannels for you, helping you thread your arms through and telling you that you need another drink to warm up. Yunho makes you something stronger than the diluted punch, and it goes to your head with haste.

It does warm you up, and it pulls you from reality a little. It’s easier to laugh along with Yunhos jokes this way, without thinking about the tension between you and Mingi. It feels good and safe to just be worriless, to feel the wind in your hair and be surrounded by the sound of your friend's voices mixing together.

Your legs are getting wobblier, but Yunho catches you before you fall and he lets you stay posted against him.

You’re just watching the conversation your friends are having without joining in when you feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to look back to know that it’s Mingi. The smell of his cologne is familiar enough to alert you.

”I think I better get them home,” Mingis voice is warm and round behind your ear. For a second you feel a little bitter, you kind of want to shake his hands off of you and scoff at him because he’s intervening just when you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself without spending a single thought on him. Is that not what he wanted? You’re keeping the secret, you’re not drawing any eyes towards you two. He’s doing that all on his own.

Had it been three years ago, you think your friends had been protesting your leave. You’re all grown up now though, and everyone is understanding when Mingi wraps his arm around your waist, and you both wave goodbye.

Mingi helps you into his car. Tears for Fears is still playing when he turns the car on and starts driving, and you feel a sort of agitation that you can’t place. He doesn’t speak a single word for a minute or two, and the mood inside the car is unbearable.

”I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say. Mingis face is bare of emotion, and you find yourself with an urge to placate him. ”We did well, don’t you think? I didn’t make anything obvious.”

You don’t know what response you expect to get from Mingi, but there’s a palpable shock within you when he pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to you.

”What?” you ask. Mingis eyes soften when they flick over your entire body, to then end up at your face.

”Did you really.. worry about that?” Mingi wonders softly.

”Huh? I thought-… Yes, I worried about it, because you did. I mean, you told me we needed to lay low.” You’re starting to get thoroughly confused and frustrated.

”I know, but I didn’t think you’d drink so much and cuddle up to Yunho because of it,” Mingi says, his tone quickly working up to a sharpness you’ve never heard in him before.

”Drink so much?” you gasp. ”I was just having fun! It had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you, Mingi, or about us. I don’t worry about it as much as you do. Believe it or not.”

”I don’t worry about it,” Mingi sounds accused.

”Clearly you do though. You take me to this party and give me instructions on how to behave, then spend the whole time ignoring me. Just like you did all of last week. Clearly, you have to feel ashamed, or- or…” you trail off, feeling your voice crack. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and leans closer, putting his hand on your knee.

”Please,” he urges, and there’s something in his voice that breaks your heart. ”Please, don’t think I could ever be ashamed of you.”

”Then what, Mingi?” you ask quietly, starting to feel yourself break now. Tears are starting to well up and cloud your vision. You continue, ”Do you just not want me? I get if it’s different when we’re face to face, I know it might not be what you expected, I understand if you don’t find me-”

”Stop it!” Mingi is almost shouting now, startling you. ”It’s nothing like that, you have to believe me. Stop saying these things.”

His hand lifts from your knee to hold your face where he wipes away a tear from your cheek. You don’t know what to say, even though there’s a part of you that wants to keep insisting. Mingi isn’t offering any kind of explanation or even an excuse, he’s not saying anything to quell your worries, and his hands on you are not enough.

”Kiss me. Please,” you whisper. There’s more you want to say, like prove it, prove that you want me. Kiss me and mean it.

”I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk and I’m sober,” Mingi says, offering up a solemn smile.

”I’m not though,” you argue. This entire conversation has been sobering. You’re still tipsy, your head feels a little heavy and your vision is still floating but you think you can blame it on your tears as much as you can blame it on alcohol.

”Well, you’re drunk enough that I don’t feel comfortable kissing you.” Mingis thumb strokes over your cheek to comfort you. It’s enough to calm you a little, because that you can take. You don’t think you’d want to kiss him either if the roles had been reversed.

”Okay,” you mutter. ”Are you sure it’s not because you don’t want me?”

Mingi sighs, ”We’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re not-”

”I’m not drunk, Mingi.”

”Okay, okay. But I still want to do this tomorrow, when we’re both thinking clearly. We’re just misunderstanding each other, and this isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he tells you. He leans forward and kisses the top of your head instead, just above your hairline. It must be calculated on his part, to kiss you where your skin can’t feel the warmth of his lips.

”Okay,” you say again. This time Mingi lets out a little laugh at your dissatisfaction.

He starts the car back up and takes off to go home, leaving his hand on your thigh throughout the drive. When he pulls up to his house and you get out of the car your legs feel like jelly, and you realize you’re probably not as sober as you’d like to believe.

”Mingi?” you ask. He rushes to your side to hold you up, though that’s not what you meant. ”Can I sleep here tonight? You know how my mom is, she’d flip if she saw me-”

”I wasn’t planning on letting you go home like this, don’t worry,” he laughs.

So, with his arm around your waist, Mingi guides you inside and up the stairs to his room. It’s dark and you have to remind yourself to be quiet to not wake Mingi's family. While he leaves the room to fetch another blanket you sit down on his bed and look around his room.

It’s been a while since you’ve been here but not much has changed. You know for a fact that Mingi is still just as entertained by his action figures now as he had been at 13. It makes you laugh to see them all lined up on his shelf, right next to a couple of books that you had gifted him. He had forced his way through a couple of them and called you to complain about every choice the main character made.

You’re comforted by how much of his room remains the same. This is a place where you can remember and picture Mingi. By his big stereo, switching CD’s. Cutting out pictures of his friends to add to his collage wall.

Mingi comes back to his room with a blanket and a pillow that he throws next to you on the bed.

You’re watching his every move. When his eyes land on you he lets out a sound you can only read as disgust.

”Of course he gave you that,” he complains, more to himself than to you.

You can’t help but follow his line of sight though, finding that he’s looking at Yunhos flannel shirt.

”What’s so bad about it?” you wonder. Being under Mingis gaze always fills you with a sort of insecurity that has you twisting and turning.

”It's like, his move. Lending out his shirt. And then letting you lean on him like that..” Mingi mutters.

”Why would Yunho ever pull a move on me?” you ask incredulously.

”For the same reason I would, I assume,” he says. ”You’re really hot.”

A heat rushes to your abdomen and you can’t meet Mingis eyes anymore. Today has left you feeling anything but desired by him, but you don’t think he’s lying right now. He wouldn’t lie about finding you hot just minutes after refusing to kiss you.

”It wouldn’t matter what Yunho thinks of me. Like you said last night, you’re the one who has my nudes. Right?” you say.

Mingi sits down next to you, looking at his hands in his lap instead of at you.

”What if he wanted more than just your nudes?” he asks. This, too, feels like he’s asking himself the question. And you don’t know what to answer.

You don’t think Yunho poses any threat whatsoever, he’s just friendly and flirty by nature. But you let yourself think about what Mingi is implying for a second. What if he - or anyone else - would want more of you than Mingi does? Someone who could offer you a relationship that wouldn’t require secrecy. Someone who would bring you around his friends and hold your hand for everyone to see. Someone who would properly date you and want a relationship, as opposed to dirty phone sex at odd hours of the night.

You realize you’d always pick Mingi above all that, no matter if you had to have him only partially. If he was never yours.

You open your mouth to respond but shut it again when you can’t find the right words.

Mingi looks over at you. He speaks, ”Can’t you take it off?”

”Take it off of me,” you whisper back.

His mouth twitches into a small smile.

”It’d be a lot sexier if I wasn’t taking Yunhos clothes off of you the first time I undress you,” he still sounds displeased, but his hands work the shirt off of you anyways. He discards it to the floor, as far away as it can come.

”These are all mine,” you say, meaning the clothes you have on. ”You can take those off.”

Mingi lets out a drawn-out breath, something to collect himself. His hands pause at the hem of your top even though you’ve already given consent, waiting for you to nod until he starts pulling it over your head.

Silence permeates in Mingis bedroom as he continues undressing you. It’s just the wind rustling his curtains that disrupts the quiet. He guides you to lie down so he can unbutton your shorts to take them off. His hands are so gentle and his touch is soft, when he has finished taking your socks off and all your clothes are on the floor except for your underwear he leans down and presses a sweet kiss right above your knee.

”Take yours off too, please,” you say softly. He’s not quite as delicate with himself, he doesn’t make a show of it. You can’t help but stare though, trying to really commit this to memory since it’s the very first time you’re seeing him strip for you, even if you know it won’t be followed up with all the things you’ve talked about on the phone.

Your eyes flick all over him, down his toned arms and up his torso as he pulls his shirt over his head, across his broad chest. You watch his fingers work the button on his shorts open, revealing his dark underwear. He’s not hard, at least not fully, and it’s strangely intimate to be so close to his dick for the first time but not in a sexual manner. Everything about it makes your heart feel heavy, you’re somehow aware of each pump of it, how it’s speeding up at the mere sight of Mingi.

Mingi, your Mingi, that hasn’t ever been yours. Not really, not properly, but still somehow.

You want him on top of you so bad, to finally feel him in the ways you’ve dreamt about for a full year. Instead, Mingi climbs in bed with you and pulls you close.

He is soft and warm in all the spots your bodies are connected and intertwined. You fall asleep to the sounds of his breath coming out slow and steady.

You wake to a breeze of air over your face. At first, all you can hear is the chirps of birds outside and the distant noise of cars driving around. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that it’s the middle of the day, the sun is bright in that midday way, bright enough that there isn’t a total blackness even when you screw your eyes shut further.

You just turn around and try to escape from it by burying your face into the pillow. The texture of the pillow feels strange and unfamiliar, and the more you come to you realize it also doesn’t smell like your bedding. It smells like Mingi, you realize, and shoot up in a startle.

You don’t have time to wonder why the bed is empty next to you, because you can hear steps on the stairs and seconds later the bedroom door creaks open. Through a squint you can see Mingi in the same state you remember him falling asleep. In just his underwear he walks up to the bed and sets down a glass of water and a plate, before petting his hand over your hair.

”Good morning,” he greets you, smiling big.

”Mm, yeah,” you hum back, still drowsy. It’s far more comfortable to let your eyes close again and just lean into Mingi's affection.

”You okay? Are you hungover?” Mingi asks.

”Yeah, but not from drinking,” you murmur. ”It’s from you yelling at me.”

”I wasn’t yelling!” There’s an undertone to his voice, an actual worry and fear that you’d be feeling a certain way today after last night's conversation.

”I know you weren’t, Mingi. I’m just messing with you, I remember every bit of that conversation,” you assure him. He lets out a sigh of relief, his thumb stroking over your temple.

”That was going to be my next question,” he tells you. ”So you remember the whole night then?”

You nod your head under his hand.

”Do you want to talk about it?” he asks you.

The question stabs at something inside your sternum. Of course, you want to talk, in reality, there are a thousand times you’ve held yourself back from saying to him and there would be nothing more freeing than telling Mingi all of it. There’s just never a time and place for it though and you’ve come to terms that there never will be. It would take astronomical changes to allow you to say what you want. Yes, Mingi, I’m in love with you and probably have been all my life. Mingi, it took us sexting to make me realize you’re the only one I could ever picture myself with.

You had of course let yourself fantasize a couple of times, but the details of any imaginary and hypothetical relationship between you two would quickly obscure, and Mingi was often a perpetrator in that. It would present itself on days when you lived in the afterglow of a nighttime call. You’d walk on clouds with the memories of Mingi moaning your name, then check social media and be greeted with photos of him with his arm around your lifelong friends and strangers you would get nauseous picturing Mingi talking to. Your name wouldn’t even come up in conversation, he’d appear single to them because after all, he was.

So you wouldn’t often entertain the idea of being something more. You’d just treat it as a passing thought, boil it down to what it was, a neuronal connection gone to grief.

You guess you had hoped to see something in Mingi to completely deny these thoughts. Like, a first kiss that you wouldn’t be able to break away from. Or the moment you finally have sex for the first time and it being this out-of-body experience that ends with both of you crying and confessing your love. Like a scene out of a movie.

You could even have survived the opposite. If the first kiss had gone sour and the spark died before it even ignited. At the very least, you would have an answer to all your questions. Instead of being tethered to this middle ground where there’s an undeniable passion and need for each other, but a considerable distance keeping you apart.

Though there were things you’d want to say, there are none you could verbalize.

”I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, finally. To convince Mingi of this, you open your eyes and roll onto your back so you can look at him. He looks unconvinced, so you continue, ”I think I was just confused and upset. I don’t know why. Maybe because you’ve barely spoken to me since I came back home. I had just… expected more.”

You find yourself surprised that you’re telling the truth. It’s not what you had meant to say, but it’s true and innocent enough. Mingis hand rests on the side of your face, where his fingers fiddle with your hair, and for a second his eyes focus on that, before coming back to yours.

”I don’t have any excuse,” he says. ”I guess I could say that I kept seeing your relatives show up at your house and I thought it’d be rude to whisk you away from all that just to fuck you. But I think the more time passed, the harder it got to..”

”Yeah,” you agree. ”To fuck.”

He smiles at your choice of words and nods.

”Have you not happened to notice I haven’t initiated a single kiss between us, Mingi? I’m nervous too. It’s different in real life. It was much easier on the phone to just do things,” you say.

”Would it make it easier if I told you I’d really like to kiss right now?” Mingi asks.

There won’t ever come a time when the prospect of Mingi wanting to kiss you won’t send a jolt of electricity through each and every vein in your body. Nor will there ever be an instance where you won’t act on that will, especially since it seems that there will be a finite number of them. As you prop yourself up and lean in to kiss Mingi you realize that, along with this being the very first time that you initiate a kiss with him, you’re also one kiss closer to the last kiss you’ll ever have with him.

Because there will be a last time. If you keep going like this there is no other possible outcome, there will simply come a day when Mingis's eyes set on someone else and your arrangement is concluded. There’s not an if, it’s simply a when, and every kiss from now on is going to lead up to that last one. You can’t decide if you should hold out and stave off that last one for as long as you can or fit in as many as possible until then.

All these thoughts disperse when your mouth meets Mingis and he kisses you back. It’s hard to think of anything other than his warm lips or his tongue softly licking against yours. It’s more playful this time compared to the last two, today you’re both feeling each other out and learning what to do, what feels good.

You find yourself out of rhythm at times, the position you’re in is a little awkward, and you fumble through a few kisses to lean closer to Mingi. You feel your stomach swirl when you realize that none of this deters Mingi, that you can in fact feel him smile and breathe out something between a hum and a moan every time you come crashing against his mouth. His big hand comes up to your jaw, long fingers curling around the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

Things get heady so fast with Mingi, he works you up so incredibly quickly, and it’s obvious from the sounds he’s making that he’s just as affected. He doesn’t pull away for a second, his hand keeps your head in place and he continues to clumsily kiss you as he guides you down onto the bed.

The air in Mingi's room is hot from the summer sun shining through his window. It’s not until now you realize that the only thing separating you from Mingis body has been his thin blanket. He starts peeling it away, and it’s then you remember that Mingi had undressed you the night before. A jolt of panic shoots through you now that Mingi can see you, entirely nude except for your underwear, in the warm, bright light of his room. You find comfort in the fact that he’s undressed too, but with Mingis eyes taking you in it’s hard to feel relaxed.

Mingi leans in for a long, passionate kiss, and against your mouth he muffles, ”You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your head is swimming, Mingi keeps on kissing you, getting softer and more careful as he moves down your neck and continues to lavish you with compliments. So pretty, kiss, gorgeous, kiss, breathtaking, kiss. And if you had any doubts, he squashes every single one when he kisses from your collarbone, over your chest and down your stomach, all the way down to your hips.

He plants his hands on each of your thighs, not grabbing or putting any pressure, but you can still feel the weight of them.

”Is this okay?” he asks quietly. He kisses just above the waistband of your underwear, and at the same time, his hands nudge your legs apart. Your breath catches in your throat and you can only nod and let his hands move your legs to where he wants them.

”What about your family?” you ask him, suddenly realizing the reality of where you are.

”No one’s home. It’s just us,” he says. ”So don’t hold back on me please.”

His shoulders are big and broad between your legs. The sun illuminates him so prettily, his tan skin glows, and every little hair on his body is lit up by the sun. The heat has left a thin layer of sweat on his skin and it highlights his muscles in just the right way. He’s just glowing, near angelic, and you’re moved with the need to worship every part of him.

Mingi is still so tender with all his kisses, there’s no sense of rushing as he takes his time by really letting his lips linger. His mouth trails along your entire thigh, stopping now and then to lightly suck your skin into his mouth and have a taste of you. He only falters when he gets to the junction of your thigh, to where your skin is covered by the fabric of your underwear.

You’ve been short of breath for a while now, but when Mingis fingers dip into the waistline of your underwear you cease to breathe entirely. Your head is rushing, watching as Mingis hands pull your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely naked. You’ve sent him pictures before, he knows what every little inch of your body looks like, but Mingi looks at you as if it’s the very first time.

A thousand thoughts whirl through your head between the seconds your underwear hits the floor to when Mingi springs into action. A thousand worries now culminating, whether he’ll realize that it was better over the phone, if he’s disappointed by what he’s seeing, or if he’s repulsed by how aroused you already are.

”You’re,” Mingi begins, stopping to press a kiss at the seam of your thigh. He adds, ”Beautiful.”

His eyes aren’t even on yours, he’s single-mindedly focused on what’s right in front of him. His breath is fanning across your entire crotch, tickling your inner thighs, and as you feel it get closer and closer you instinctively close your eyes and let your head roll back when Mingi finally puts his mouth where you need it most.

He’s still so gentle, using his tongue and lips to tease you and explore what you like best. It feels like hours pass of Mingi lightly sucking and pressing wet kisses all over you, he’s really and truly taking his time and you have to believe it’s for his own sake because he’s only building up a frustration within you.

”Mingi,” you whine, reaching down to grab hold of his hair. It’s an objectively insane feeling, to have his hair in your hand and head between your legs, after all this time of dreaming of it. It’s enough to have you getting close, even though Mingi is still lapping carefully at you, and it's nowhere close enough to what you crave.

When you start bucking your hips against his mouth it’s like he releases all restrain and just goes for it. His hands wrap around your legs at first, pressing them towards his head, to then wedging underneath your ass so he can get all of you into his mouth.

Mingi moans out ”You taste so good” with a mouthful of you at the same time you tell him how good he is with his mouth, prompting him to smirk against your pelvis. It really doesn’t take long for him to learn what gets you closest to the edge, just where he should put his tongue and where to apply some pressure.

”So good, Mingi, you’re so good. Oh my god,” you sigh. You tug on his hair hard enough for your fingers to cramp, and Mingi only moans against you. Every sound you make seems to spur him on further, Mingi only getting more eager with the way he’s circling his tongue around you.

His tongue is getting you closer and closer, your stomach is splitting in two to hold onto the edge and trying not to cum. You’ve been waiting for this for so long that it feels a shame to cum just minutes after Mingis mouth is on you, but there’s no holding back. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush to his face, and the second you lift your head to look down at him between your legs you start orgasming in his mouth.

He understands what’s happening before you do, applying enough pressure to get you over the edge before letting up and licking you slower to help you come down. All while he keeps his eyes on yours, letting your fingers scratch his scalp. Mingi listens to every little noise you make and stops the second your heavy breathing turns into an overstimulated hiss.

”Mingi, Mingi,” you whine. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink and his lips are slick with his own spit and your cum, and you can’t stop admiring him. All you can do is pray that Mingi looks into your eyes and mistakes your all-consuming love as the afterglow of a great orgasm.

He pulls himself up enough to crawl on top of you, and though he’s just spent minutes between your legs, this feels a lot more daunting. He hesitates for a moment as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to kiss you, so you wrap your hands around the back of his head and pull him towards you.

Mingi is breathing heavily from the effort he’s just put forth, and instead of letting him catch his breath you only grow more desperate. Your hands clammer onto his shoulders, pulling him against you, then down to his waist, and finally around his ass so you can pull him against your core. He’s got his underwear on, but you don’t let it stop you as you grind up against him. He’s hard and you’re still wet with spit and cum, it doesn’t take long before you’ve soaked his boxers and the barrier between you both is practically nonexistent. You can feel every bit of him against you.

”Mingi,” you moan into his mouth. ”Fuck me, please.”

He pulls away and sucks in a deep breath.

”Don’t you want me to… uh, prepare you?” He sounds small and insecure. You watch his brows burrow and his eyes flick across your face, and you’re struck by how much he looks like Mingi. Your best friend Mingi, who you’ve built up in your head as a confident sex god, even though you’ve always been aware that he’s more careful and vary than any other person you know.

You suppose you’d just assume that that version of him would disappear in the bedroom, that he’d be the same as he is over the phone when he’s telling you all the different ways he wants to fuck you.

”I’m- I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m so worked up you could just slide inside me,” you tell him, and Mingi moans in response.

”Are you sure?” he asks. You pick up motion again, sliding yourself against the entire length of his dick.

”I’m not just sure, I’m begging,” you plea. You hook your fingers into his boxers, trying to tug them down even though you know the position you’re in won’t allow you to undress him. You just need him to act, now, you can’t wait any longer.

It happens fast, Mingi pulling his boxers off and getting back on top of you, to then lining up his dick to enter you.

”Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” you mumble. The sight of him in comparison to you, lined up against you, is enough to make you cum untouched.

This is what you’ve been dreaming about for a whole year, this very moment. For Mingi to push inside you, hook your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until you can’t see straight. Actually being here, with the tip of his dick against your hole, it feels much different. It’s not the actual sex you’re looking forward to, it’s the fact that he’s finally going to be inside you. It feels like you’re claiming him, that the moment is finally here and he’s going to be yours.

”Are you okay? Are you ready? Can I-?” Mingi asks, searching your eyes for uncertainty.

”Please,” you nod.

He starts pushing inside, watching his dick slide with ease until he’s got the entire tip in. The stretch feels amazing, you could take all of him in one go but the fact that he stops and leans down to kiss you as he slowly thrusts his entire cock inside is way better. And god, he kisses you as if he’s not currently buried inside you. His lips barely brush against yours, and the kisses are short and sweet. Finally, he pulls back to watch himself bottom out.

The sun is shining on the side of Mingis face, and this is just not at all how you had pictured it. In your fantasies, there had always been a dark bedroom and Mingis body had been on top of yours, only distinguishable by faint lights outside the window. It was quick, rushed, and dirty, maybe Mingis hand would be clamped over your mouth to keep you from making any sounds since it would have to happen at one of your homes. Sometimes you’d imagine it happening in his car, parked somewhere secluded at night, it would be bumpy and awkward and sweaty and the focus would just be on both of you cumming as soon as possible.

You hadn’t pictured it like this. Like, Mingi looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

His hair is messy from your hands grabbing it, and the sunlight lights it up like a halo. Time feels unmoving, you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to memorize every small detail.

He starts thrusting carefully and slowly. His back is upright, leaning away from you so he can watch his cock go in and out of you. You can’t stop watching him though. He’s so beautiful, his hair is a mess, and beads of sweat are starting to trickle down his chest. You reach your hands up, caressing his skin.

You wonder if you’re breaking some sort of unspoken rule. The two of you hadn’t discussed or set any boundaries, but when you slide your hands over Mingis chest and stomach, you wonder if you should have. This isn’t just fucking, you’re worshipping him and looking at him with intense adoration. He’s going so slow too, really taking his time. You’re not fucking, this is making love.

”I’ve never felt this good, you feel so good,” he moans under his breath. He curls his hands under your ass, picking you up so he can get better leverage to thrust as deep inside as possible. The new angle makes him groan, ”Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you?”

It has you sobbing with pleasure. Mingis fingers are digging into your flesh, and he fucks you at this torturous pace for tens of minutes. You can truly feel the drag of his dick inside of you, when he bottoms out all the way inside to when the tip of his dick is at your entrance.

”You’re so good, oh my god! So good, you’re so handsome, Mingi,” you praise him, causing Mingi to pick up the speed.

You’re grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to pull him down, to get him closer. He lets you down on the bed and leans down, coming chest to chest with you, shoving his arm under your head instead. Your bodies are flush with each other now, Mingis pelvis rubbing against you and getting you close to cumming again stupidly quick.

His mouth is right by your ear, pressing a few sloppy kisses to your neck and temple. He is moaning your name and though his voice is hushed and strained you can still feel it reverberate through his chest, right against yours.

It’s precisely that which has you cumming, the sound of his voice calling your name over and over, telling you how good you feel. Your ears start to ring when your orgasm rolls through you and Mingi only picks up the pace to intensify it. You can faintly hear him, somewhere far away now, this otherwordly being showering you with so much affection it has tears forming in your eyes.

”You’re so perfect,” he’s telling you, fucking you faster. ”Just for me, all for me, you’re all mine.”

Somewhere through it, you realize he’s picked up the speed because he’s close too, but he wants to make it good for you before he pulls out. His eyes are on you, watching your breathing return to normal and feeling your hands unclench from his shoulders, and only when he’s certain that you’re coming down from the orgasm he leans back and pulls out. He only manages to get his hand around his cock before he cums all over your stomach, cumming so hard he shoots all the way up to your chest.

Mingis other hand is grabbing your waist and you can’t stop looking at the way he’s marked you up. There are red marks on you from the tips of his fingers, and little marks from his nails all over your hips, and you’re covered in his cum. Just seconds ago he’d told you that you’re all his, and in this moment you feel it.

”Fuck, that was…” Mingi is the first to speak. ”Shit, let me get you cleaned up.”

He scrambles for his underwear, starting to wipe his cum from your stomach.

You’ve managed to blink away the tears that welled up when you came, but there’s still a sob within your chest that you’re fighting to choke down. Everything about what just happened was about a thousand times more intense than you had ever dreamt of. Had he not pulled away you think you might have confessed to him right then and there.

”How are you feeling?” you ask him, clearing your throat and hoping Mingi reads it as just being fucked out.

”Very good,” he responds, without a hint of hesitance or a second of stalling. There’s a faint laugh in his voice, and he’s starting to smile. Nothing about him looks like you currently feel.

”Oh,” you say, struggling to find words. It’s not like you had expected him to just bare his heart and pour out confessions. You’d just expected something more to follow, after all of that. You had made love. There’s no other word for it.

Mingi leans down and kisses you once, so chaste you barely have time to kiss back.

He gets up and pulls out a pair of new boxers from his dresser, stepping in them.

”Fuck, I made you breakfast earlier and forgot all about it,” he tells you. You look over at the nightstand, where your breakfast sits forgotten.

”Oh,” you repeat. Your head drops back down on Mingis pillow. You speak again, ”I think I’d rather have a shower.”

It’s all so thoroughly strange. Mingi clasps his hand in yours and pulls you up from the bed, and you feel perturbed. You’ve seen Mingi greet Yunho with more affection than the way he helps you up on your feet. At least he joins you in the shower, but you feel weirdly disconnected from him. Even when he jokes and suds up his hair into silly hairstyles you can only manage halfhearted laughs.

Your body aches to have him closer, to feel him pressed against you and to have his lips back on yours again. The kisses he’s giving you now feel cheeky, as if he’s kissing you just because he can, and not because he truly wants to.

You suppose there’s reason to feel thankful, because at the very least Mingi hasn’t rejected you. His casualty is worth a lot more to you than the possibility that he could have pulled back and realized that everything about this was a mistake. He ruffles your hair after the shower, and it stings, but each second you continue to remind yourself that this is how things are supposed to be.

He lets you have one of his shirts after the shower, and he cooks you a very late lunch, then Mingi has to leave for work. Your legs are still unsteady when you make the walk back home to your house.

You prepare yourself to be ignored again. You busy yourself with cleaning your room, reading a book, cleaning out weeds in the garden, sending out job applications, anything you can to make the hours go by. You don’t want to check your phone, but your fingers itch to see if Mingi has texted you.

Nothing.

It’s not until late that night when you know Mingi's shift has ended that he calls you.

”Hey,” you answer, walking over to your window. Mingis car is in the driveway, but you can't see him in his room.

”Hi there,” he greets you. ”Busy day?”

”Oh you know, the usual,” you say. ”Mom wasn’t too happy with me spending the night but she was very relieved to hear it was with you.”

You’re still dressed in his t-shirt, and throughout the day you've been bringing the collar up to your nose to smell him on it. You find yourself doing it now too.

”Her head would explode if she knew what you were doing at my house this morning,” he teases you.

”Good thing no one will ever know then,” you joke, though it is the truth. It was always meant to be a secret.

”Right,” he says. ”So, do you think maybe you could come over tomorrow? My parents will be gone, I start working in the afternoon again, I was thinking maybe-”

”Yes,” you interrupt him.

Mingi laughs, ”Okay. Uh, do I sound desperate if I say that you can come over as soon as you wake up?”

”A little, but I like it,” you giggle.

”Good.”

”I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

You sleep so much better when you know that you’re seeing Mingi tomorrow. You wake up feeling completely rested, and you’re giddy as you sort out your bedhead and get dressed.

Mingis parents aren’t home, and there’s a spare key resting atop the frame of the front door that you use to let yourself into their home. It’s still early, early enough that you know that Mingi is probably fast asleep in his bed. You try to keep your steps light as you trudge up the stairs and into his room. The curtains are drawn, only letting in a stream of sunlight that lights up a sliver on his bed. The orange morning sun is casting a few inches of light on his thigh, so you let it lead you.

It’s where you first press a kiss. He smells of sleep and Mingi, you inhale the scent of his skin between kisses you trail all over his thigh and over the front of his underwear. Mingi sighs softly in his sleep, hips twitching when your lips kiss the tip of his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You’re looking up to watch his face, but when he’s still asleep as you mouth over his entire cock, you crawl up and kiss his lips.

Mingi huffs and puffs, twisting underneath you. You continue to kiss all over his sleepy, confused face. He cracks an eye open, transforming from a groggy confusion to a content smile.

”Morning,” he mumbles happily.

”Hey,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. ”Can I suck you off?”

He lets out a drawn-out moan that tapers off into a sigh, nodding fervently. His hands are weak and his fingers fumble to find purchase in your hair when you pull his underwear down his legs and take him into your mouth right away.

He sounds so lovely, all raspy and deep from his sleep. Even though he’s just come to consciousness, Mingi makes sure to tell you how good you are making him feel. He moans your name, over and over, giving you so much praise it’s making your head swim.

It doesn’t take him long to get close, so you choke out permission for him to cum in your mouth, and Mingi listens eagerly. Even as he cums he’s vocal, talking you through it and reminding you to breathe all while he praises you for how well you take it. He’s so gentle it’s making you moan as you swallow, and when you pull off his dick you scramble to get his thigh between yours.

Mingis hands guide your hips over his thigh, setting the pace for you to hump him. He keeps the praise coming, and when he feels you getting close he pulls you down for a numbing kiss. You cum on his thigh while deep in a kiss, and Mingi holds you close to his chest as you come down from it.

Somewhere in the post-orgasm haze, you both fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet, Mingi lulls you to sleep with the sounds of his breath and his fingers drawing patterns on your back. When you wake up again it’s in a sweat. His little bedroom is swarming with heat, so you decide on a shower, where Mingi has your chest pressed against the white tiles while he fucks you until you’re cumming a second time, this time while full of his cock. He bites down on your shoulder to keep from cumming until he knows you’re fully satisfied, and only then does he pull out and let himself cum on your ass.

When you’re pulling his shirt over your head 10 minutes later while he cooks you lunch, you catch sight of marks on your shoulder. His teeth had dug hard enough to bloom bruises on your skin, and your mind reels at the fact that he has marked you up.

Mingi has you coming over the next morning too, after you’d spent the previous night sending him pictures of the bruises his teeth left on your skin. His responses had been sporadic as he focused on work, but it didn’t stop you from going into detail about all the things you want Mingi to do to you.

It’s like all the limits have finally vanished, neither of you are held back by the fears and worries of before. It’s just like it had been before you moved back, when you only had phone calls to rely on. Back then, the comfort had come from the fact that you didn’t have to actualize all the things you spoke about. You had time to feel each other out and discuss what you want, all without having to put yourself on the line for possible failure. Now, you’ve found reassurance in the fact that you do have a physical relationship.

You know each other in your bones. You can read all the queues his body gives you, and you know what every little expression on his face means. You can sense differences in his sighs and you know what his voice sounds like when it’s getting to be too much. There’s no room for doubt when Mingi is in front of you, you just intrinsically know what he needs.

The two of you fall into a routine. When morning comes, you skip over to Mingi's house and usually he’s still asleep, tired from his shift the day before. You wake him up with kisses or gentle touches, and if he’s hard by the time you get there, Mingi loves to wake up to you already taking care of him. Some mornings you simply lay beside him, tracing his face with your finger. His hair sticks to his forehead so you brush it back, giving soft kisses to the side of his temple. Your pointer finger follows the contour of his nose and lips, feeling the warmth of his breath exit his nose.

Even though he’s asleep and unaware of your worship, you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s in these moments you can be fully truthful with your affections. Letting your hands linger on his chest for a moment longer, focusing on his heartbeat underneath your palm. You whisper things to him you’re too afraid to say when he can hear you, just to release yourself from the need. It satiates you enough, like this airing out of your system, enough to keep you going until the next morning when you once again get overwhelmed with the sight of his sleeping form blanketed by sunlight. There is only one thing you forbid yourself from saying, three words that you vow to never let yourself speak.

A full two weeks pass of this. Every day you explore something new, things you’ve spoken about on the phone over the last year. With Mingis parents working daytime, you have full freedom to be as loud as you want. Mingi also takes full advantage of a free house. One morning he bends you over the kitchen counter while breakfast is still cooking. His mouth is always right by your ear, moaning and telling you how bad he needs you, despite fucking you upstairs in his bedroom just an hour earlier. Another day he has you ride him on the couch right before he leaves for work. You love it most when Mingi randomly decides to go down on you, whether it’s in the shower or he makes you lie down on the kitchen table. When he’s got his mouth on you he’s possessive, making sure to mark up your thighs and hips. It happens so often that he sometimes ends up darkening the hickeys he left a few days earlier.

Then Mingis schedule changes, and he has to work in the mornings. It doesn’t stop you, but it puts a damper on things as you know them. You have to meet in the afternoons instead, and with Mingi's parents home you end up sitting through long dinners with his parents, reminiscing and talking. It makes sex a little difficult, and Mingi hates the fact that you have to be quiet. He picks you up in his car a few times, but quick head while parked at the edge of the woods is a harsh contrast to the hours of sex you’d been able to have a few weeks earlier.

You’re caught by surprise one day when your phone calls and you rush to pick up only to find Yunhos voice at the other end. You’re so surprised that you pull your phone away and check the name on the screen, and sure enough it’s Yunho's contact name.

”Hey,” you reply, trying to play off the shock.

”Not happy to hear from me?” he teases.

”Shut up, you know I am!” you joke back.

He laughs in return and makes some small talk, telling you how much fun it was to see you and asking you how you’ve been.

”But, hey, uh,” he interjects. ”You ended up leaving with my shirt, is there any chance I could get it back?”

”Shit,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. ”You’re right, I totally forgot. Uh, do you want me to bring it by today?”

”That’d be perfect, thanks!”

When Yunho hangs up the phone, you chew nervously at your lip. Getting the shirt back to Yunho wouldn’t be an issue, it’s just that it’s in Mingi’s room somewhere, and asking him to locate it would probably lead to another weird moment where Mingi says something petty. You’re pacing around your room when your eyes land on his driveway and you remember that Mingi is at work. You’re just about to call Yunho and tell him today’s gonna be impossible, before the solution hits you.

Mingis mom opens the door to their home when you knock, and beams at the sight of you on their doorstep.

”Sweetheart! Hi there, Mingi is at work right now, I’m afraid,” she tells you while wrapping her arms around you for a hug. She always does this, even though you’ve been spending a lot of time over at their house recently, Mingis mother hugs you every time she sees you.

”I know, it’s just that I left something in Mingi's room that I need to get if that’s okay?”

So she lets you run up to his bedroom. You feel a little bad while rummaging through his room, but it doesn’t take you long to find Yunhos flannel shirt bunched up halfway underneath Mingis dresser. Mingis mom tries to convince you to stay for dinner, but you tell her you have to get going, and within moments you’re in your car on the way to Yunhos house.

It’s another picture-perfect day outside, the sky is a pristine blue and the wind is blowing just enough to bring some relief in this heat. Yunho is outside in his front yard, with the rear of his car jacked up.

”Hey, you!” you call, getting out of your car. ”Car trouble?”

You can tell by the fact that he has picked apart the entire wheelhouse that it’s not just something routine, but Yunho shrugs his shoulders.

”Not something I can’t fix,” he smiles. ”Dude, you’re quick. I called you, what, 30 minutes ago?”

You nod, sitting down on the tire Yunho has removed.

”Honestly, I was losing my mind at home. I’ve been doing jack shit for days now, I think I might die out of boredom,” you complain.

”Oh, so you’re saying you left the minute you got my call just because you had nothing better to do? It’s not just because you love me?” Yunho quirks an eyebrow, wiping grease from his forehead.

”Can’t it be both? And anyway, I had to go over to Mingis to get your shirt, so I didn’t leave ’the minute I got your call’,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him.

”It was at Mingi's house?” he asks.

Something comes over Yunhos face that you can’t pinpoint.

”Yeah.. I left with him during the party, and we went to his house afterward.” You hope he buys it as a reasonable enough explanation, it’s at the very least true. Just not the entire truth.

Yunho shrugs, and his eyes lose the edge they just had. He smiles, ”Leaving in one man's shirt to go to another dude's house, all in one night.. Impressive, I’ll give you that.”

”Fuck off!” you huff, kicking Yunhos shoe.

He laughs, slapping down a greasy hand on your knee to let you know that he’s just joking, even though you already know that.

”Although…” you trail off. ”Mingi did say that it’s your move.”

”Oh yeah, it is. I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it, though.” Yunhos's voice is still teasing, but not in the same way that Mingis usually is. You can tell that Yunho is just friendly, that there’s no flirting laced in his words or tone. It makes you miss Mingi.

”I don’t fall for things like that,” you retort, but quickly find your mind going to all the shirts Mingi has let you borrow these past weeks. You wear them all day, every day, even when you come back home after spending time with him. You even sleep in them, and you frequently bury your face in the collar to smell his laundry detergent. The few times he gives you a shirt he’s already worn you end up getting so worked up about it that you think you’d be getting yourself off while smelling it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Mingi now has you cumming at least twice a day.

So, perhaps you do fall for tricks like that. But only when it’s Mingi.

Yunho goes silent, and you can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

”What’s wrong?” you ask him.

His eyes flick over to yours for a second, then he looks at his hands. You’ve never seen Yunho this deep in thought outside an academic setting, and something about it is making you uneasy.

”You know,” he begins, but the words die as quickly as he says them.

”Yes?” you try again.

He pauses, looking up at you.

”You know that Mingi is my best friend,” he says. ”And I love him, I do, but sometimes he acts like an idiot. And I can’t- I just hate seeing it, you know?”

”Okay,” you mumble, only growing more confused with every word Yunho says.

”I don’t think it was right how he came here with you, then spent the whole night talking to everyone but you. But, he just gets so weird sometimes, right? And like I said, I love him, he’s my best friend, but- we just thought it would be different when you came back home. So, Wooyoung and I decided to see what would happen if I lent you my shirt, and-.. Yeah.”

”What… What are you saying?” Your voice is getting quieter. The cheery happiness from before has retired, and there’s something strange in the atmosphere now. You can’t understand what Yunho is getting at, but there’s a part of you that wonders and wishes. A part of you that can read between the lines of what Yunho is too afraid to say out loud.

”It’s not my place to say,” Yunho says, looking everywhere but your eyes.

”At least tell me what you intended to do with this shirt.” It’s still in your hands, his flannel, and your fingers are tightening around it.

”We just figured that maybe he needed a push,” he tells you, sounding so sheepish.

”You wanted him to get jealous?” you finally say it out loud. Yunho doesn’t meet your eyes, but it’s a clear enough answer. So you ask, ”What do you know about me and Mingi?”

”In all honesty? I don’t know anything. And it used to hurt me because Mingi is my best friend and I’ve known him since we were kids. But that’s what clued me in because I know for a fact that he would have told me if you were dating,” Yunho says. You’re holding your breath while listening to him. He continues, ”I, uh, I accidentally saw the preview of a text you sent him once. Something about.. well, that’s not important. But, I realized it then. We all thought it was just a matter of time, and that you’d make it official when you moved back home.”

You’re hearing every single thing Yunho is saying, but the words just won’t stick. You’re becoming more aware of the birds singing and the sound of the wind among the treetops.

”Mingi is in love with you,” Yunho says. At last. The rest of his words blur together. He has been, a long time, doesn’t know it. Yunhos mouth is moving, and you know what he’s saying, but the rational part of you that knows this can’t be true has stopped listening long ago.

Mingi is not in love with you. He’s just not, that can’t be true.

Yunho scrambles towards you, hands landing on each of your knees. He looks so concerned and his mouth is still moving.

”-you okay? What’s wrong?” You hear once your brain stops blocking your ears. You’re crying, tears falling from your cheeks down onto your hands.

”What did I say?” Yunho asks frantically.

And the confessions start rolling. You tell Yunho about everything, from that first night to everything that has happened since you returned back home. You tell him about the weird moment when Mingi drove you home after the party.

”Don’t you hear it though? He’s in love with you! My god, I think he always has been,” Yunho says.

You scoff, ”He ignored me for four whole months during my first semester away. He’s not in love with me, this is just.. out of comfort, it’s just easy.”

”You’re both in denial. You know what I’m hearing? That Mingi was so heartbroken when you moved away that he couldn’t even be a good friend. That didn’t just extend to you, by the way. He barely hung out with us during that time, and it only changed when you came home for Christmas,” Yunho tries to lay it out for you.

”You’re wrong. You’re wrong-”

”I can’t tell you what to believe,” Yunho says. His hand squeezes your knee, leaving dirty marks of grease on your skin. It’s a gesture of comfort, and you appreciate it for what it is. ”You need to talk to Mingi. Maybe disarm him by telling him that you’re in love with him first.”

The air feels different when you drive back home. It feels heavier, somehow. Yunhos words bear an incredible weight and no matter how many times you run them through your head they don’t get any easier to process. It would be different if it had come from Seonghwa or Hongjoong, who would say practically anything to comfort you. You don’t think Yunho would sweeten his words like they would, or even at all.

You sit through a quiet lunch with your mom, unable to get your thoughts in any other direction than the conversation you just had with Yunho. For some reason, you feel absolutely stuck there, and you can’t see a way for things to work. It feels as if time has been suspended in wait for your next move. The hours tick on though. You lay in your bed and watch the numbers on your alarm clock change. Seconds turn into minutes, and then hours, and your mind is still stuck in the same place as it has since you left Yunhos house.

You don’t realize when the clock indicates that Mingi is ending his shift. The numbers are just ticking, hypnotizing you. You startle when your phone calls and the pit in your stomach grows when you know that it’s probably Mingi.

Your fingers move on pure muscle memory as you pick up your phone and swipe to answer the call, then raise the phone to your ear. Through the phone, you can hear Mingis car running.

”Hello?” Mingi asks. ”You know, it’s usually the person who picks up the phone who speaks first.”

”Sorry,” you croak. You don’t even recognize the sound of your voice.

”Are you okay?” Mingi sounds so concerned it makes your stomach twist. It’s still the same Mingi you have known all your life, and he’s the same man you’ve been fucking the past weeks, but something feels as if it has fundamentally changed. You try to listen to his voice, read it for any hint of tenderness you’d have previously missed. You can’t make out any, it’s the same Mingi as always.

”It’s been a weird day,” you settle for.

”Then what do you say about changing into your swimsuit and we go to the lake? It’s so hot out, I can’t stand to be home. And maybe it can take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

”Yeah, sounds good.”

”I’ll pick you up in 5, better hurry!”

Mingi hangs up. Your head feels all fuzzy and distant, but you pull yourself out of bed and get changed. While putting your clothes over your swimsuit you realize you’re in one of Mingis t-shirts. Every single bit of this feels like a divine punishment. To be dressed in Mingis clothes and have marks in the shape of his mouth decorate your chest and the insides of your thighs, to be so thoroughly claimed by him but yet not be his, is agonizing.

You’re aware that Mingi would park in your driveway and come knocking at your door, wanting to impress and appease your parents at every turn. You just can’t deal with that today, so you hurriedly make your way down the stairs and out your door to wait for him outside. You’re just in time, because Mingi is making the turn up your street and it’s only half a minute before he’s pulling up to your house and you’re getting in his car.

”Hey, I missed you!” Mingi sounds cheerful, sporting a smile so big it’s splitting. You hate the way that time and space curl around Mingi each time you see him as if he presents to you in technicolor and slow motion. Your eyes pass over each feature, trying your best to handle what just seeing him does to your body.

Mingi keeps a pair of extra sunglasses in his car for you, and when you’re sat down he leans over to place them on your face. The gesture is enough to make your breath hitch, but he uses it as an opportunity to lean in for a swift kiss, and you feel as if you’re floating.

Today, Mingi has Fleetwood Mac playing softly throughout the car.

You’re just looking at Mingi with this pit in your stomach, this sense of impending doom sitting heavy in your abdomen. The world feels slow and strangely saturated. The seconds stretch on infinitely, allowing you plenty of time to watch the sunlight adorn Mingi's skin.

You’re aware that you can’t stop staring. When Mingi parks the car and you start making the short walk through the trees to get to the lake, your eyes are always set on him. From the towel slung over his shoulder to the sweat that has broken out and is trickling down the nape of his neck. You’re trying to make sense of the sight in front of you, the same Mingi you’ve made this walk with a hundred times, the only difference being that he’s had you in the most intimate and tender ways now. It forces you to rewrite history, the memories of your childhood innocence are permanently changed. If only you had known then, while sitting on the big rock and throwing pebbles out to break the still surface of the water if you had only known that the boy handing you rocks would end up being the man you fall in love with fifteen years later.

Your stupid, stupid heart. Sometimes you think the ribs, flesh, and muscle containing it won’t be enough to keep it in place. It beats so hard and fast it billows from your chest, through your arms, and out to the very tip of each finger. You have to flex them to stop that lovesick tingle from numbing you.

The water is beautiful. The lake looks just like you remember it, the wind is blowing slight ripples upon the surface and the trees are swinging lightly. Besides the gentle hum of nature, the place is completely undisturbed and it’s just you and Mingi here today.

You're placing your towels down and undressing in silence, barely glancing at each other. You sneak little glances at him in the corner of your eye, wondering what he’s thinking. Yunhos words are still echoing through your head, getting louder and more unbearable for every minute that passes.

Mingi is wading into the water before you know it, covered up to his knees, then thighs, then his waist, and eventually he points his arms and dives in entirely. He erupts back through the surface with a shriek that echoes over the lake, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing.

He rushes back up to where you’re laying on your towel, shoulders bunched up in reaction to the cold water. Mingi shakes his head above you to force droplets onto your bare skin, laughing loudly when you yell in protest. Things feel so extraordinarily regular, it’s as if you have transported back ten years in time. Even when Mingi gets down on his towel and leans over to kiss you, it still feels so normal. It just feels so right with Mingi, like this is what you’re meant to be doing.

Mingis's mouth is cold and wet from his dip in the water, and his hair continues to drip onto your face, but you find it hard to care when he wraps you up in a long, passionate kiss. He’s on his stomach on his towel now, as close to you as he can get. Your heart beats with a discernible nervosity at the fact that you are laid out in the open with Mingi making out with you. There would be quite a walk for anyone else to get here, and you would probably be able to hear branches breaking or even a car parking way before anyone could walk upon the scene and spot the two of you. The risk of getting caught here is low, but you still feel like you’re on display.

Mingis cold fingers wrap around your jaw where he keeps you firmly as his tongue enters your mouth. The kissing goes to your head very quickly, dulling all your senses as all your thoughts are replaced by what Mingi is doing with his mouth. He knows you so well that he pulls away seconds before you lose your breath, letting you regain it while he kisses the corner of your mouth softly. His hand trails over your chest and down your stomach carefully, feeling the way your ribcage heaves as your breaths get steadier.

Mingis eyes follow the path of his hand before he abruptly stops by your knee.

”What’s that?” he asks you. You have to crane your neck to see what he’s looking at. Not much remains of it, but there are still faint marks of dirt and grease on the top of your knees. Just on the outside of your leg, there’s an unmistakable fingerprint.

”Oh,” you mumble. Mingi detaches himself from you with a quickness that makes you lose your breath, and you scramble to get up too.

”I don’t- I feel like I don’t even need to ask who left that on you,” Mingi says.

”It was Yunho,” you rush out, wanting so badly to resolve this before Mingis thoughts spin and twist so bad that you can’t untangle them. It’s clear from the look on his face that your words and their haste only have the opposite effect.

”Yunho?” he questions, getting quieter.

”It’s not all what you think. He called me about that shirt he let me borrow a few weeks ago, remember? I went to his house to give it back and we got to talking. You know, just.. stuff, about life. I ended up getting emotional and he comforted me. I was crying and he put his hands on my knees, that’s all.” You read Mingis's face for any changes, but nothing happens. He only looks at you, taking in your half-truth excuse of an explanation.

”What is it that Yunho can comfort you about, but I can’t?” Mingi asks, his eyes staring into yours with so much intensity you feel like crying. You had expected everything but that. You’d rather Mingi accuse you of getting intimate with Yunho, that you’re lying and it’s a terrible cover story you’re spinning. You could defend yourself from all that, but not this.

”That’s not… Mingi, it’s not like that. I didn’t just choose to go there for comfort. It just happened, I just started crying, and that’s it,” you urge.

Mingis legs are drawn up to his chest and his arms are wrapped around them. He looks so small and vulnerable. His eyebrows are starting to furrow together, and you’re finding it hard to tell if it’s anger or sadness that is starting to show on his face. Both possibilities terrify you equally.

”Why?” he wonders, simply. ”Why did you cry?”

You can physically see the restraints he’s putting on himself to hear you out, to not race away with his worries. You wish it means what you want it to mean. That Mingis vulnerability was an act of love instead of self-preservation. He’s probably sat there worried at the threat of Yunho taking you away and replacing his role. That the fun you’ve had the past weeks, and the year before that, would be over, just like that. You wonder if he views it as a hindrance more than anything. Mingi has finally scored a way to have sex on the regular, without the commitment or worries of starting with someone new. What you have is a lot of comfort, and you suppose he doesn’t want to lose that.

Still, even this feels like a lot more than you deserve of him. If you can’t have Mingi in the ways that you want, you’ll have to do your best to preserve the arrangement you have now.

”It’s not important,” you mumble. You know it’s not a good enough answer.

Mingi lets the word hover in the air for a moment, pondering on whether he should let it go.

In the end, he decides to speak. ”There’s nothing you can tell me that would scare me off. You know that, right?”

”That’s not true,” you whisper, so quiet it’s almost a hiss. ”There is something I can’t ever tell you.”

Tears start to fall down your cheeks and it’s now a conscious effort to keep your sobs contained within your chest. The lake is still breathtaking, the wind is still and the sun is bright in the perfect blue sky. It’s a beautiful day to get your heart broken, at the very least.

Mingi stretches his fingers and you watch the tendons twitch and flex. You’re brought back to what you were doing earlier, shaking off your nerves.

”What if I say it first?” he says. You look up at his eyes.

”What?”

”That I love you,” he tells you. His eyes are big and dark, brimming with tears of his own. ”If I say it first, will you say it too?”

”Mingi-”

”I do love you,” he begins. ”It’s stupid, looking back, because I think I’ve loved you since before you left. I loved you that first night, I already knew it, and I felt so stupid when I woke up the morning after. Doing that with you when I was drunk out of my mind made me feel like shit. And then I felt even more like shit, because- because, it made me realize that it hadn’t been the way I wanted it to be. So I took comfort in the fact that it was over the phone, and I still had time to do it right. To start right, with you, I mean. I wanted our first time to be perfect. I knew I loved you when I kept thinking about it. But then, when you finally came back, it truly clicked. For a while, I had figured that I’d know how I felt about you when we had sex for the first time. But I was wrong because all it took was me seeing you to know that I’m in love with you.”

”Mingi,” you whisper, again, over and over. It’s all you can bring yourself to say, like a prayer, before you crawl over to him and press your lips to his. It doesn’t matter that it takes him a beat to respond, you don’t care at all anymore about how things get awkward or strange. You continue to kiss over his mouth until he’s ready to kiss you back, when time finally catches up to you and it dawns on you both that this is real.

You can’t stop kissing him, breathing out his name every time you part.

”I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. ”I’m so in love with you.”

Mingi smiles into the kiss. Your senses are overwhelmed with the taste of both your tears and the fact that you’re both now smiling and giggling, repeating ’I love you’s until the words merge.

He pulls you into his arms, tumbling over into the grass. He stops kissing you to just look at you, and you watch him too. Your Mingi, in the grass by the lake. Finally, your Mingi.

#mingi x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #mingi x y/n

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skzstannie · 11 months ago

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“And I’m Willow!”

SKZ-> Han Jisung x single mom! Reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers wc: ~2,100 cw: brief descriptions of the death of a parent, child goes missing (just for a second), 4 year olds can be menaces

summary: you’re outgoing 4 year old daughter turns out to be quite the wingman

A/N: Here’s the Han fic, as promised! Going to make this into a mini series, soooo Parts 2/3 will be out eventually. Give this post some love if you enjoyed it; likes/reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Momma, can we get these please?" your daughter whines, shoving a box of tissues in your face.

You snort, "Now why do you want tissues, Willow?"

"You're always crying over those stupid boys on T.V," she answers, distracted by the little bracelet she has tied around her wrist.

Your eyes widen in embarrassment, mumbling out an apology when the elderly couple next to you glances your way. You quickly make your way out of the aisle, praying your daughter will hold her comments 'til you get to an empty one.

Your daughter is the light of your life. She is always so happy and giggly, and she easily becomes the center of attention every time she walks in a room. You love the way she is so carefree, not caring about what anyone thinks of her. While she may only be four, this is certainly a characteristic you wish you had.

"Willow," you chuckle once you're tucked safely away in an empty aisle, "You can't just say things like that in front of other people."

"Why?"

"Because Mommy gets embarrassed easily."

"Why?"

"Because other people don't need to know about our business."

"Why?"

You stop replying, realizing how silly it looks to be arguing with your four year old daughter, and continue shopping.

You push the cart down the next aisle, Willow still sat comfortably in the seat at the front. Suddenly, you bring the cart to a screeching halt. Your eyes lock on the beautiful man stood in front of you, and it's like everything else around you disappears.

Willow lets out an adorable squeak, exaggeratedly lurching forward from the abrupt stopping of the cart. "What was that for, Mommy?" She pouts, her chubby arms crossing over her chest.

You've forgotten how to breathe, and her question goes in one ear and out the other.

Willow, as inpatient as ever, whips her head around, her eyes finding the man you've been ogling for an inappropriate amount of time.

"Mommy, why are you staring at that man?"

The question brings you back to reality, and your cheeks redden when the man in question looks over at you, a teasing smile on his face.

Completely embarrassed now, you whip the cart around, almost taking it on two wheels, and practically sprint to the next aisle.

"Willow," you hiss quietly, your adrenaline pumping at full speed, "Remember what I said? We don't talk about other people in public. It's rude." You run your fingers through her silky hair, making sure she's taking in and understanding your words.

"But whyyy?"

You huff and take a moment to gather yourself, mindlessly staring off at the seasonings stacked in front of you. It's pointless to answer, knowing exactly what she'll say back almost every time.

You're erratic heartbeat has calmed now, and you continue to go about your shopping, grabbing a bottle of ketchup off the shelf. You look down at your phone, crossing it off your list.

In a house with a toddler, you can never have enough ketchup.

You scroll through your list for a moment, but are quickly interrupted by a small tug at your sweatshirt sleeve.

"Mommy?" her small voice perks up, and you're almost too scared to ask.

"Yes, baby?" You're mind is full of random things she might say, and you mentally prepare for something wild to come out of her mouth.

"I have to use the bathroom," she whispers, apparently gaining an awareness of social cues that she lacked 30 seconds prior.

"Ok, I'll take you." You put your phone back in your pocket and make your way to the bathroom at the back of the store. You leave your cart outside the restroom and take Willow out of it. You lead her into the bigger stall by the hand, locking the door behind you guys. She does her business, and you help her to wash her hands.

Walking out of the bathroom, your brows furrow seeing your cart missing.

"What kind of an asshole takes someone's cart?" you whisper to yourself, your eyes scanning the aisles within sight.

You walk down each aisle, your eyes peering in everyone's carts.

Somewhere around the fifth aisle, your hand reaches down to find Willow's hand, but you're met with nothing but air. Your eyes dart down beside you, and you immediately panic when you're little mini-me is nowhere to be found.

"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes wide as saucers. You race up and down the aisles, searching for your daughter, manners slipping your mind as you bump into people left and right. The aisles are crowded, and you're daughter could be anywhere.

You get to the candy aisle, and you're finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. There your daughter stands, a bag of ripped open M&Ms in hand. Your eyes wander over to the person crouched down next to her, and your pulse quickens once again.

Of course, out of everyone in the whole store, this is who your daughter would go up to.

You stalk over to them, a pink tint once again gracing your cheekbones. As you get closer, your daughter's excited voice falls over your ears.

"And then she started crying when the other guy came back on the T.V," she explains animatedly to the handsome stranger.

"Willow," you say, your tone stern. "You cannot walk away from Mommy in stores." You grab her little hand in yours, pulling her towards you 'til she's in front of you. You crouch down, your eyes level with hers.

Her little expression drops, her bottom lip wobbling. "I'm sorry," she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes.

"It's ok, baby, you just can't wander off like that. Somebody could take you away from Mommy," you explain tenderly, using the sleeves of your sweatshirt to gently dry her cheeks.

"I just wanted some chocolate, and then I saw the pretty man you saw before, and I wanted to be his friend," she tells you innocently. Your attention is brought back to the bag of candy she dropped on the floor and the very handsome stranger picking each up each individual piece.

"Sir," you panic, "You don't have to do that," you quickly take the bag from his hands.

"No no Mommy, it's ok! He's our friend now!"

"Baby, please stop," your eyes remain on the messy floor, all too embarrassed to look at the man. You hurry to pick up all the M&Ms that spilled out of the bag, throwing them back into the package.

"I was just telling him how you thought he was pretty," your jaw drops in shock, "Oh! And how he looks just like the boys you watch on T.V."

The man chuckles, and you gain the courage to look up at him for the first time.

He's even more handsome from up close, if that's even possible, with dark brown hair parted perfectly, the cutest chubby cheeks you've ever seen on a man, and the brightest smile you could possibly imagine.

"I saw her standing here by herself and figured we’d wait here until you found her. She already had the candy before I saw her," he chuckles, bringing his hand to rub at the nape of his neck while his eyes dart between you and Willow.

"I-uh, thank you so much for watching her. We're working on her listening skills, they need a bit of sharpening." The chemistry you feel between the two of you is unfathomable as you ramble on, and your body warms as you feel his gaze on you. "I'm also so sorry for anything she might've told you. She's quite the people-person, and she wants everyone to know everything-" Your daughter cuts you off, an exasperated look covering her freckled face.

"I just thought it was important for him to know you thought he was pretty."

Your face heats up even more, and you bring your hands up to cover your cheeks. "She's trying to kill me."

The man laughs, a fond look taking over his features. "I'm Jisung, it's nice to meet you..." he offers you his hand, a proper greeting finally underway.

"Y/N," you meet his outstretched hand, giving him a firm handshake. He shakes back and delicately pulls you up to your feet with him.

"And I'm Willow!" she yells, jumping up and down, her big doe eyes focused on Jisung.

"Willow is a very beautiful name," he sticks his hand out towards her, and she clumsily takes it in hers, shaking it quickly up and down. "Now, Willow, do you think your mom thinks I'm pretty enough to give me her number?" His attention shifts back to you, and your heart races at the question.

"Huh? What number-" Now it's your turn to interrupt her. You pull her around to face you and gently guide her face into your sweatshirt, effectively cutting her sentence off.

"She just might," you reply, giving him a flirtatious smile.

After exchanging numbers, it's finally time to part ways. He sends you a subtle wink, the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Bye Mr. Jisung!" Willow says as you practically drag her away.

"Willow, you have to promise me you will not run off like that ever again!" Now out of Jisung's earshot, you freely scold your daughter.

"But Mommy, Mr. Jisung was so nice!" She skips beside you, happiness exuding from every inch of her tiny body.

"I know he was, but you have to stay by Mommy at all times. Promise me you will not run off again," you stop walking, pulling her off to the side of one of the aisles. Your grip on her arm is loose enough to not hurt her, but tight enough to make her know you mean business. "Promise me, Willow."

"I promise, Mommy."

"Ok, good. Now to find that stupid cart."

~ ~ ~

For the remainder of the time you spent at the store, Willow talks your ear off about Jisung. Through the aisles, through the checkout, and even on the car ride home.

"And then, Momma, he told me my bracelet was beautiful. Can you believe it?!" Her words bounce with excitement. "Daddy would've loved Mr. Jisung."

Your heart aches at the mention of her dad. He passed away in an unfortunate car accident a year after she was born. While she may not remember her dad, you have made sure to tell her every single last detail about him.

"Jisung was very nice, wasn't he, baby?" you hum, stopping at a red light.

"Yes! I really like him." You gaze back at her through the rearview mirror. The love you have in your heart for your little girl is an indescribable amount, and you only wish one day she'll truly understand what she means to you.

It's a heavy role having to act as both parental roles, but here you are, making it work day in and day out.

It's hard, but you have to be kind to yourself, reminding yourself that she's happy, healthy, and everything that's good in the world.

"You're a wonderful mom," your husband had told you. You were sat in the rocking chair, feeding your baby girl a warm bottle, and he was sat across from you on the floor, his head resting on your knees.

It's been years now, though, and while he'll always be your first love, it's ok to look for love again, right?

~ ~ ~

"Willow, please stop climbing on the furniture like it's a jungle gym; you're going to get hurt," you tell her from the kitchen, stirring some noodles on the stove.

You hear her hum in agreeance, the T.V turning on seconds later to her favorite cartoon.

You ended up finding your cart earlier at the store. To your dismay, you simply walked out the opposite end of the bathroom, and your cart was only around the corner. You were quick to finish your shopping, wanting to avoid anymore embarrassing interactions.

Spaghetti was the dinner your daughter requested for the night, so you picked up all the ingredients at the store earlier. You have the noodles boiling on one burner, your homemade sauce going on the other, and a couple pieces of garlic bread toasting in the oven.

Your phone dings from the table, and you step away from the stove to tend to it. You scroll through your numerous Instagram messages, your friends all too obsessed with sending you countless reels.

Your cheeks flush at a specific notification hidden among the multitude of social media messages.

from Unknown

Hey Y/N, It's Jisung

I know this may be moving a little quick

But I can't stop thinking about you

Can I take you out this weekend?

Part 2/3 -> coming soon!

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luvvyouforever · 9 months ago

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Hello!! I saw that your requests were open. Could you possibly do another Modern AU! Rhysand x College Student! reader fic? I loved the first one you posted and definitely gave me some comfort with how stressful college is 😭

I always liked imagining the ACOTAR universe in a modern au. Especially Velaris in a modern setting.

Hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself💜💜

hi! absolutely dear <3 i tried to include more velaris in this!

comfort on the bridge - modern au!rhysand x college student!reader

↳ a night out in velaris ought to clear your worries about upcoming exams. does it actually, though?

↳ modern portrayal of velaris, mentions of self doubt and stress, reader is studying to be a teacher but it could be replaced with any major/focus. this isn't my best work, i'll admit, and it did take me like two weeks to completely finish but here you go!

↳ divider art from @firefly-graphics

usually, there was nothing better than a night out on the town in velaris, surrounded by the inner circle and your loving partner, rhysand. very little made you more excited than getting dressed up with mor, pregaming with cassian, and flooding the dance floor of rita's. tonight, however, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

rhysand could sense your hesitance about going out, feeling the bond between you two grow shaky and antsy but there was no way you could bring yourself to say no to them. you were just more stressed out than you imagined possible and so much more was in your mind than getting drunk and dancing to fae pop music.

mortal college was more than you had anticipated. it was always your goal, far before your ears grew pointy and you became a part of the night court's defenders, to go to college and make something of yourself. rhysand encouraged you wholeheartedly, telling you over and over that it was a good idea, that velaris needed more teachers, that you could accomplish it.

and now, your college career was coming to a close which only meant certifications, exams, and papers that all required more of you than you could give. you could only remind yourself of the shining new generation of fae being born in velaris that needed teaching so many times.

all of those worries and deadlines could not be suppressed by the strong liquor going down your throat, leaving a harsh burn in its wake. nevertheless, you took every shot cassian offered and with everyone one of them, rhysand grew more worried.

"you're putting 'em down tonight, y/n!" cassian cheered as the clink of the shot glass hitting the bar rang through the room. "you want another one?"

"yeah, i'd lo-"

"darling, i really don't think you should have another drink. you'll feel terrible later," rhysand's deep voice sent shivers down your spine as his large chest came up behind you. instinctively, you leaned back into his warmth.

"no! we gotta have fun tonight! i can't let anyone down!" you rebutted. your hand reached for the drink on the bar but your hand was trapped by rhysand's before you could. "hey!"

without a response or argument, rhysand began to tug and you didn't put up much of a fight (you were positive that one wrong move and your lack of coordination would land you on your butt on the floor). cassian looked at the two of you, making brief eye contact with rhysand and he nodded in understanding. something was wrong.

"where are we going?" you asked your partner after you stepped into the fresh air of velaris. despite it being so late, the city was quite alive with people, bikes, lights, music, and sounds. it was a beautiful sight, one that usually caught your breath, but there were more pressing matters. like why did rhysand take you away from your fun? the worries were just now being forgotten!

rhysand didn't answer your pestering but instead led you down some streets, up one incline, and landed at an old steel bridge that was at a high enough point to overlook the streets below. it was a spot you frequented when stressed but you didn't know that anyone knew. of course rhysand knew.

without having to say anything, you both perched on the edge of the bridge, wrapping your legs around the posts. your arms brushed against each other and with a few deep breaths, you felt the alcohol begin to leave your system as quickly as it came in.

"what's going on? you're drinking a lot, you seem stressed. i feel it. i don't even have to look in your mind to tell," rhysand said softly. his violet eyes shined in the night and though his gaze was strong, you couldn't help but fall into it.

you sighed and leaned your forehead against the cool metal of the bridge. the sounds of your city flooded your ears and it washed you with some calm that you were searching for. "i'm just stressed. there's so much on my plate, so much coming up, and i don't feel smart enough or good enough for any of it." just speaking the words out loud felt like a weight being taken off of your body. surgically removed and thrown hundreds of miles away.

"tell me about it," your partner said. he wouldn't get it, necessarily, but sharing the weight would help.

"there's three certification tests i have to take, all of which are unnecessarily hard. and that's just so i can get my license to teach. i still have four exams, all worth well over a hundred points, and i feel grossly underprepared for each and everyone one of them. then there's this theory class that's all about best practices in education and research and i feel like i'm picking up none of it," you expressed. "i don't feel like i am going to be the best i can be for velaris. i want to teach them but i'm struggling to pass my class. how am i supposed to impart all of this amazing knowledge on them when i don't even know it?"

your head fell forward onto the bar again and you relished in the soothing feeling of it. down below, music and laughter erupted from a rooftop bar. you wished you could know what rhysand was thinking.

"you know...i think you're the most intelligent person i ever met-"

"that's not-"

"ah! ah! no arguing," rhysand cut you off. "as i was saying...you are the most intelligent person i ever met. the capabilities you have far exceed anyone in the spring court and hewn city combined. the passion you have for our city and its education is so admirable, y/n. everyone will be so lucky to have you as their teacher. the fact that you committed to going to mortal college just to provide the small number of velaris children with a proper education proves to me that the cauldron picked the most perfect person to be my mate."

looking at onto your city, rhysand's words sunk in. somewhere in a back yard, high fae children laughed cheerfully, clearly excited to be up later than what would usually be allowed. it was hard work but work that you were more than excited to be doing.

with a sigh, you leaned into rhysand's side, grateful for him being your rock. "will you help me study for the praxis?" you asked quietly.

rhysand's head dipped down and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. "me and all of velaris will help you through whatever you need, darling. and we will be there at your graduation, glamoured and cheering."

#acotar series #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #fanfic #fluff

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sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame · 2 years ago

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Summary: Marko makes you dinner sometimes.

Brought to you by; my personal philosophy on how much immortality would fucking suck, how much I want to bone the lost boys, and how much I love Italian food, although I like lobster ravioli with vodka sauce way more than stuffed shells u guys it's literally perfect. Also I decided to write a full fic for once lmao 🤪🤪🤪

Warnings: very brief mention of police brutality but the cops die lol, some mentions of sexual content, cursing, drug mentions, general violence, unedited ramblings of a madwoman who's procrastinating finishing the third draft of her novel.

Black reader, mention of reader wearing a bonnet and earrings, and having locs!! But I don't Think any specific gender stuff. ***Non-Black people are 100% allowed to read and interact btw just please don't be racist lol

Marko would cook you Italian food sometimes.

It would always come out weird, and he would only do it out of the blue.

It'd be in the middle of the night, when they'd all decided to completely raid your house because you'd worked an early shift that morning and were sleeping in entirely too late for their tastes.

They'd be clamoring and making a bunch of noise at first before they realized half an hour had passed and you were still snoring.

It was late, and they'd eaten already. They wouldn't go as far as to brush their teeth for you, but a quick swig from the now empty bottle of tequila belonging to someone at the bonfire would be enough to take away the taste of iron in their mouths.

Dwayne would buy gum every once in a while. He wanted you to feel it one day—the steel warmth of a fresh kill on your tongue melding with the taste of booze, weed, and the same damn thing on his, but he couldn't pretend there was no part of him that liked you not knowing.

None of them would if they ever decided to be honest with themselves about it.

Sometimes it was nice to hear you snoring.

You'd wake up, somewhere around three in the morning, you'd guess. You were still too tired to accurately read the clock on your nightstand.

You'd adjust your bonnet and step out into the living room, following the smell that'd permeated your home and made your mouth water in your dreams. You were never surprised to see them.

You'd say they'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you ever decided to be honest with yourself.

You were surprised to see Marko, standing at your stove in your green tiled kitchen, looking at your pink non-stick pans with a scowl on his face while the rest of your boys talked about where they'd go once you woke up.

The answer to their conversation was absolutely nowhere. You were still wearing the bamboo hoop earrings you'd forgotten to take off the night before and rubbing at the indents they'd left in your neck, shuddering every time you'd brush against the scars and bruises they'd left on you simply because you'd begged for it so nicely.

There wasn't a chance you'd step out of the house until Monday morning. Every shift made you wonder if you should just ask.

For their lives, or lack thereof, for their blood, for forever with them in the same town doing the same things until the sun exploded and you'd die with the people you'd grow to see as prey.

Every time you thought about it—Eternity—it was too much. Too big. Way too big a thought for three in the morning.

"Hey Doll," David drawled. You'd mumble out a hello back, a sly smile on your face as you shuffled towards him wrapping your arms around him—partially because the cool leather of his jacket and his big arms wrapped around you felt nice, but mostly because you were tired of supporting your own weight.

Paul was on you in a second, kissing whatever skin he could reach from his awkward position before you turned your head to make out with him, drowsy and horny and happy to be touched.

"Baby," he'd pout after you'd pull back, "you said we'd hang on the boardwalk tonight. That band you like is playing."

You scowl even then, "I like them, but not enough to go out after a twelve hour shift. You guys can go—" your words were cut off by an obnoxiously loud yawn, "—see them if you want, I'm off for the weekend thank god, I'll be here tomorrow."

Dwayne would come up to you then, rubbing your back and pushing a loc that had somehow escaped your bonnet back in place. He'd be frowning. He'd never get used to seeing you tired, or hungry, or thirsty, or anything near the realm of unhappy if he was honest.

He'd never tell you to quit though. He'd just imply it. And maybe imply how fun it would be to commit arson again to his men.

You'd jump a bit in David's arms when the incredibly kitsch Garfield kitchen timer you'd begged them to buy you with money they stole from someone that only a small part of you hoped was still alive. You regretted getting it often, but not often enough.

Marko reached to grab the dish with his bare hands and you had to yell to remind him to put on gloves. Even in your sleep-deprived state you were shocked he'd actually listened.

Soon you were being ushered to your couch, the still on tv in your living room playing nothing but static. You needled through your collection of tapes for all of two seconds before you picked up the first thing that looked like it'd be some decent background noise, shoving into your VCR and opening your eyes for long enough to watch that look they all got in their eyes when you turned on the tv.

You think David had seen one growing up, he'd mention he'd been around since sometime in the fifties, but from the way he described his child you were sure he hadn't owned one.

Dwayne, you think, worried a lot about it. He was the second oldest out of all of them and he'd seen things that you were sure you couldn't imagine, he'd been around since before this country was stolen and he'd lived through hells you wish you could erase from his mind but the cast of light from the screen on his face illuminated that glimmer of wonder and fear in his eyes. You hoped one day he'd tell you what he was afraid of.

Paul looked like a kid in a candy store nearly every second of every day. All you had to day was smile at him or lift up your top and he'd start giggling like a school girl. He quieted whenever you put on a movie on. He'd lift up his arm like he expected you'd always be there to take up the space next to him, and he'd go back and forth from staring at you and the tv like he wanted something he couldn't have. You didn't think he'd had many moments nowadays where he couldn't get what he wanted. If his smile didn't look so fake, you'd think maybe it'd be good for him.

Marko was old. You didn't think so at first, no one would. He had a baby face that would've gotten him carded at every event you went to if it wasn't for mind control and he acted on impulse more than any person or animal you'd ever met. There were wild, rabid squirrels that acted with more caution, thought, and patience than Marko. But he was old. He'd never told you how old, but you could see it. It hadn't taken long.

He'd always walk on the side of you closest to the road, he'd hold open every door, and he'd never let you pay for your own drinks, food, stuffed animals, arcade games—he'd practically jumped a carnie once to get you a stuffed animal that slept next to you in bed every night since then.

But they all did that, sometimes to a less dramatic extent, but it wasn't anything new.

You knew Marko was old when he stared at a stamp with the Mona Lisa on it and smiled, turning to you and saying something in Italian before wincing to himself and shaking his head. He refused to tell you what it was he said and dragged you over to go pick out a bracelet for him to shoplift for you.

You knew he was old when he stared at the water on the beach and told you how much he hates how murky it is here.

"I wouldn't have left if I'd known the water would look the same," he'd said.

He had told you when you'd asked that he meant Italy. He wouldn't answer when you asked him when.

Marko never looked at the tv much. You hoped it was because he didn't care, but you knew he'd never tell you.

You'd shoved half of a stuffed shell into your face, thankful you'd had ricotta and even more thankful they'd used the ground pork you'd started defrosting that morning, you wouldn't have had it in you to use it until next Sunday, probably.

"How is it, sweet cheeks?" He'd called you cocoa powder, chocolate cake, cocoa butter, and all other variants of food related nicknames a good three days into knowing you. It took a long conversation about race with you and Dwayne to get him to stop, and he'd settled for sweet cheeks. You wondered how he could go so long without realizing how bad things had been. You'd never seen him look more angry than when you'd talked about all the times the Santa Carla police department had followed you, threatened you, hit you, called you out your name. They all had, but he'd looked surprised first and foremost. He swore on that day when he'd come back with blood trailing down his face and emptied a bag full of police badges on to the ground in front of where you stood that he'd never eat a black person from that day forward.

"Reparations." He'd smiled. It was all red-stained teeth.

There wasn't much of you that felt bad.

"It's perfect," you said through a second mouthful of pasta. It wasn't, it needed salt, the shells were just a bit too undercooked, and there wasn't enough oregano for your tastes, but that didn't mean it wasn't heavenly.

He'd made it. He'd made it for you, because he'd wanted to. And you were tired, and a little tipsy from the glass of moscato someone had slid in your hand sometime after you'd climbed onto Paul's lap. It could've tasted like wet cardboard, you would've been thrilled regardless.

"Where'd you learn to cook like that?" You asked.

You were just coherent enough to see that sad look on Paul's face make it's way into Marko's. His big doe eyes creasing at the corners.

'He'll never get crows feet,' you thought, 'probably wouldn't if he was human either.'

You knew there was no answer coming, so you turned your attention to the little boy from the never ending story hiding out in his attic and beginning to read his book.

"Rome." He whispered.

You didn't think you were supposed to hear him, even though you were sure he saw you freeze after he'd said it.

You looked at him from the other side of your small, dingy couch you'd forced them to help you move, check for bedbugs, and reupholster—as a fun bonding activity, of course.

There was a blood stain on the fabric that hadn't come out somewhere on the underside. It was such a pretty green you'd felt bad using hydrogen peroxide, so, you pretended.

Just like you'd pretend Marko wasn't looking at you like you were perfect. Like if he could he'd tattoo every forehead wrinkle, every breath you took, every pimple, split end, and scar into his brain.

Like you pretend he didn't ever look at you and wonder what life was like.

You beamed at him, and took another bite of the pasta, watching as his eyes shifted and he became your Marko again. The animal who wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and fed, and on his cock. Or his fingers, or tongue, whatever kept you distracted for long enough to not notice how little of him was left.

How many times had David lied to you and told you how thrilling existing without any attachments was? How many times had Dwayne offered you his jacket and whispered something under his breath about how you wouldn't be needing it forever? How many times had Paul pouted and teased you when you'd told him you needed to pace yourself after he'd tossed back his thirtieth shot?

How many times would Marko recreate a recipe his Nonna probably taught him and pretend the years he'd spent traveling the world made up for the fact that he'd never gotten a chance to see her again?

You cringed when you heard the little boy screaming as his horse drowned in tar, scrambling for the remote and sighing with relief when David started fast-forwarding through the scene, like he always did.

One day you'd ask them. If they actually did think it was worth it.

Maybe one day they'd be honest with themselves. Maybe one day they'd let themselves mourn.

That day would come long after you'd mourned for them. Probably not too long after you'd start to mourn with them.

But that day was nowhere close to right now. Right now you'd finish your pasta and use the two hours left before sunrise to make out with them.

You promised yourself at least once every week that you'd talk about these moments forever.

No matter how much it may hurt to talk about.

#black reader #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys marko #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x black reader #the lost boys x you #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys imagines

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crowtrobotx · 2 years ago

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@whateverthefuckyouwantiguess sent me a lovely ask about what Karl and Lottie’s most chaotically fluffy moment was. Tumblr, being Tumblr, completely demolished the formatting when I tried to answer and then proceeded to just delete everything when I tried to edit lol.

Anyway, did you want a ~2k word fic in response? Because you got a ~2k word fic in response. I sell chaotic father daughter fluff and chaotic father daughter fluff accessories.

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, OC (daughter)

Warnings: Swearing, brief and non serious mention of drugs/alcohol. ***

In some other life, Karl might have been a heavy sleeper. In a world where he didn’t have the omnipresent eye of Mother Miranda burning into the back of his neck, something like the suspicious clattering coming from outside his bedroom wouldn’t have even fazed him. But in this reality, all it took was the whirr of an appliance turning on for a few seconds to send him rocketing out of bed, clothed only in his boxers and stained undershirt, his hammer at the ready to flatten whoever had the audacity to come into his factory and use his hand mixer.

Had he been more awake, he might have paused to consider that the likelihood of a villager or even one of his “siblings” breaking in only to cook a late night snack was… small. Unless the flies had broken into their mother’s wine cellar, the culprit was either ghosts, a malfunctioning soldat – personal cyborg cook, filing that away for future experiments – or….

“Lottie! Dammit, what are you doing awake?”

Karl paused in the kitchen doorway, letting his muscles relax and the hammer clunk against the floor. He heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of her, perfectly unharmed, but coated in a fine dusting flour. Well, either that or cocaine – he wouldn’t have put it past her, to be honest.

She turned to look at him from her perch atop a chair, panic evident in her features. She curled her small frame over whatever she was working on, shielding it from his view. The hand mixer that had given her away – missing a beater – dropped unceremoniously onto the table.

“Ack! Don’t look! You’re ruining the surprise!”

Karl moved cautiously into the room. It was a mess at the best of times, but it looked like a tiny tornado had passed through. There was a cracked egg lying forgotten on the tile, every spice they owned strewn about the counter, and a trail of discarded spoons leading from the sink to where Lottie was, still watching him like a hawk. He fished around the top of the fridge until he found one of his many, many cigar stashes – complete with matchbox. He used the time it took to light one to both calm his still jittery nerves and sift through the possible responses to the unusual situation.

He wasn’t going to scold her. He couldn’t. And, in truth, he wasn’t angry. Mostly just confused – what on earth had gotten into her this time? Was this normal? Did little girls go through a culinary phase? She had been acting strangely the last week, spending an inordinate amount of time sifting through his book collection and whispering to the Duke when he dropped by. Karl had attributed this to her usual antics, one of those silly games she liked to make up on the fly, but maybe they had been plotting something after all.

“Surprise, huh? So, what’s the occasion?” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen, hoping he sounded cool and casual. Kids respected that, after all. He was hip – he knew these things.

Lottie straightened up, looking sad suddenly. He could see now that she was hunched over a large mixing bowl – the mixing bowl, considering they only owned one – with a cookbook sprawled open next to it. He wasn’t quite sure how she could even read it given how much food debris had ended up on the pages.

“You really don’t remember?” she asked quietly.

Uh oh. Karl felt sweat immediately form on his forehead. Lottie’s birthday was in February. He never forgot that. Christmas was most certainly not coming up, and they never celebrated any of the villagers’ holidays unless forced to put in an appearance. There were no anniversaries worth acknowledging anymore, no special occasions to speak of for at least the next three months. Did they have some kind of social engagement? No, of course not – no one invited them anywhere out of their own free will, thank goodness.

He must have taken too long or looked particularly befuddled, because with an angry stomp of her foot Lottie interrupted his racing thoughts.

“It’s your birthday tomorrow!” She pointed at the calendar hanging lopsided over the sink. April 4th was circled in red crayon and decorated by two crudely drawn stick figures in party hats. Karl gaped at it like a dumbfounded fish.

He’d forgotten. Again.

Who could blame him? If his parents – his real parents – had ever celebrated with him, the memories had been lost to time, extinguished like the candles in one of Miranda’s miserable, rickety churches whenever a stiff wind blew through the bones of the frame. Only one other person had ever cared, and she, too, was lost forever. Decades, unnatural and agonizing, had slipped by. Older than he should have ever been, without any of the positives a long life should have brought forth.

Well, almost all.

Lottie was watching him still, no longer trying to hide her work. A hand drawn card, something wrapped hastily with twine. It made sense, suddenly. She’d tried to plan a surprise party. She was attempting to make the chocolate cake she’d found among the dusty pages. The cookbook, mostly in German, was something left in the factory by one of his ancestors that he had shoved into an unlabeled box where it could never haunt him with its presence. But she’d, apparently, struggled through it with her limited vocabulary just to try to please him.

Shit.

“Oh, Butterfly.” Karl walked to her side now, ruffling her messy hair. “You don’t have to do all this. If you wanted a cake I coulda just harassed the town baker for one. This is… nice, but I think you got more stuff on the floor than in the bowl.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” The change in volume was jarring. “You always do things for me on my birthday! You’re supposed to let other people buy you stuff and make you stuff! At the very least you’re supposed to have fun! You never want to do anything. You’re so boring!”

Karl huffed. “Hey now, how would you know that? You ain’t been around nearly long enough to be sayin’ that kinda stuff – your old man was a party animal back in his day.”

He had never been a party animal. Not once in his life.

Lottie sighed and looked down into the bowl, defeated. The tips of her ears had begun to flush – either out of simple frustration, or a colossal meltdown was incoming. Guilt churned in Karl’s belly – this was awkward. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, but he truthfully didn’t know how to act. He did like the idea of a day where everyone had to celebrate him and give him shit – hell, he would love to make Alcina tell him five nice things about him – but this particular act was too… personal. He was completely out of his element.

Not to mention…. What was going on in that bowl? He was no baking expert, but he was pretty sure cake batter wasn’t supposed to look like… that.

“Hic. Sniff.”

Oh God. Oh no.

The eyes. She was doing the eyes--!

No no no no no no—

“D-don’t cry! Don’t cry! I’m just surprised is all! In a good way!” Karl was nearly shouting in desperation. “Look! Here! Let’s get it in the pan so it can bake! That’ll be fun, right? WE’RE HAVING FUN?”

One of the cabinets opened on its own with a loud bang as cake pan flew like a bullet off of its shelf and into his hand. Karl slammed it down on the table and snatched the batter up, half tempted to just eat it raw with his bare hands to calm her down.

Lottie blinked, the tantrum vanishing as quickly as it had come on. She threw in an extra snuffle for good measure before nodding, placated. “O-okay.”

Humiliating. Absolutely humiliating – the fourth and most dangerous Lord, bulldozed by a child. Oh, well. No one had to know. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten his fair share of expired SPAM over the years. He hadn’t died – likely because of the mutant parasite squirming in his chest, but who was counting.

There was nothing for it. Karl resituated his cigar between his teeth and reexamined the contents of the bowl. It wasn’t that bad. There were really only a few visible eggshells, a little bit of flour that hadn’t quite mixed in yet… and the ashes he’d now accidentally used as a garnish.

Lottie looked up at him, disappointed. “Flavoring,” Karl said gruffly.

He watched the contents of the bowl ooze into the pan, momentarily fascinated that his daughter had created something which appeared to be neither liquid, gas nor solid. Maybe she was actually some kind of genius – well, of course she was – and he’d have to have her recreate the substance. For science.

“Hey, Lot. Did you put everything in there it says to?”

“Yep!”

“Are you uh…. Are you sure, kiddo?”

She shot him a glare. Lottie looked mostly like him, or at least when he’d been younger. The only evidence of her mother’s participation was the constellation of freckles across her nose and the curls, tighter than his own, adorning her head. But when she was mad – really mad-- dear God. She looked exactly like her, and it sent a shiver down Karl’s spine.

“I know what I’m doing,” she hissed.

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled instinctively.

Lottie hopped off the chair and followed him to the ancient oven, in desperate need of cleaning, which she’d miraculously preheated without burning the entire place down. He was proud of her, considering she must have taught herself how to do… everything. He certainly wasn’t showing her how to cook. She looked pleased as punch, even though he’d inadvertently spoiled the surprise.

He should say something. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what he could say that wasn’t miserably awkward or might, God forbid, make him feel things.

“There we go!” he said once the cake was in. “Can’t wait to sample the first ever Chef Charlotte creation.”

Lottie flinched at her full name being used. “Papa.”

“What? It’s alliteration. Sounds better that way. You’d understand if you were as well-spoken as me.”

Karl gave her forehead a playful flick, to which she responded with a light punch to his thigh. Discomfort of the moment aside, he allowed himself to get a little bit excited about his birthday for the first time in years. What had she gotten him? Had she made it herself? Did she ask the Duke for recommendations? Did she steal it from the big bitch’s castle? Oh, that would be grand.

“Thanks, by the way,” he said at last. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could do. As if she precisely knew just that, Lottie flung her arms around his middle and squeezed as hard as she could.

“You gotta promise to keep the card on the fridge, too. It’s art. I used my good crayons on it.”

Karl laughed. The good crayons. Damn, he must’ve been really important. He’d like to see one of those priceless portraits in the castle hold a candle to the good crayons.

A moment passed, a rare lull in the usual madness of the factory. While down below there were gears churning and furnaces ablaze and abominations fumbling in the dark, in their perfectly unremarkable mess of a kitchen Karl was once again reminded of why exactly he needed to dismantle the nightmare that had loomed over his head for most of his life.

“Hey,” he said excitedly, crouching down until the two of them were eye to eye. He gestured to the oven with his thumb. “It’s gonna be midnight soon. Wanna get crazy and demolish that bad boy as soon as it’s done?”

Lottie scrunched up her nose. “Are you kidding me? I’m not eating that shit. It’s your birthday.”

#whateverthefuckyouwantiguess #shamelessly spreading my “Karl is an Aries” propaganda #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #resident evil oc

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bella-rose29 · 9 months ago

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ok first of all I am screaming with joy bc I thought I would never find this fic again and also I'm so glad I did

second of all everyone go read this because it's incredible

Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder. omg 🥺

She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth. *cue the interview where Cameron lists three (four) words to describe lockwood, and says he's beautiful, handsome-*

Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot. I love their friendship omg

She’s still fully dressed from the day, passed out on top of her blankets with a book laying open beside her. It’s so easy to picture her laying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, fighting to try and make it through just one more chapter before the weight of her eyelids won and sleep finally overcame her. that's so me

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love. my hEART-

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.” He says, the last part slipping out unbidden. oh dear I think I might need my bucket before I melt too much

He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with. fueisjhfsuhgiusrh I have no other words

“Oh my god. I AM SO SORRY.” She shrieks, flailing away from him with such vigour that she throws herself straight off the opposite edge of the bed. He dives across the bed in a valiant attempt to catch her but he’s just a hair too late, the echoing thud of her body hitting the floor making him wince sympathetically. 😭😂 I snorted so loudly omg

There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum. not the way I felt all the times i've tripped on the stairs reading this 😭

He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’. pfft he's so in love

He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second. If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well. omgggggg

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar OMGGGGGGG

taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt. He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing. i- 🤭

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him. He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand. She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously. he's so funny

His mouth goes dry. Okay. He hadn’t seen that coming. too busy being in love

Lockwood considered himself a charming man. He prided himself on being capable of sweeping a woman off her feet with a few carefully placed words or gentle touches. There were very few people on this planet that made him feel like an absolute simpleton, but unfortunately, she was one of them. Just once, he’d like to be able to maintain his composure around her and not make a fool of himself the second she looked in his direction SCREAMING for some reason I kept thinking of "barbie has a great day everyday, but ken only has a great day when barbie looks at him"

He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow. chivalry isn't dead then I guess (I love it)

She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here. first time in his room and it's to share his bed??? excuse me while I scream into my pillow

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed. ohhh so this is what it's like to be made for each other him with his lil bow and now this? omg I love it

He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been. I imagine he looked a lot more like a bear laden with a lot of food just plodding around (idk why that specific comparison came into my head I won't lie)

I can't pick one bit to talk about now mostly because I was screaming for the next however many paragraphs

just screaming

nothing else

the whole morning scene has me screaming

kicking my feet

Lockwood is an idiot but my word-

Oh. He was going to have to remember that for later. PLEASE DO

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future. OH?

ok so from here ^^^ onwards I just spent saying 'oh' in various ways (OH WAIT I JUST REALISED HOW THAT SOUNDS- I mean it's still relevant but)

“Sorry, wait, hold on… rewind for a second. Did you just skip straight to asking me to move in with you instead of actually verbally admitting that you want to date me?” She gawks at him incredulously. “I believe I did, actually, yes. Thoughts?” “I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.” She replies without a second’s hesitation. had to add this in because this is so him

aaaand I'm back to saying oh again

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt. trousers are for wimps 💪

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask. Is that my shirt?” of course it is the role of girlfriend is one that must be prepped for

SCREAMING AT THE ENDING

this is a true depiction of me:

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Lucy's having her first serious fight with her girlfriend and needs her old room back for the night; leaving the current occupant of the space with no place to sleep.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Light sexual content, strong language, no use of Y/N.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Happy (still technically) early Valentine's Day to the little gremlins in my phone <3 This was supposed to be a nice short oneshot to help me overcome some writers block around my main series, but, uh... once again, it got out of hand. Special thanks to @websterss and @why-what-no for helping me figure out how to approach the attic scene, which ended up being the catalyst of this veering so far out of control 😂 Hope you guys enjoy! (Oh god I completely forgot to mention, the title is from I Love You So by The Walters)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.3k

It was a quiet night at 35 Portland Row, the team having a rare evening off between jobs that seemed to double by the day. Gaining fame and notoriety had been Lockwood’s goal since the day he and George had officially formed Lockwood & Co. several years previously, and to say they’d been successful would be an understatement.

There had been a call for him to increase his numbers and branch out as a better manned agency many times, but to do so would mean giving up certain freedoms he wasn’t willing to relinquish. Including the house he and his agents had come to call home. Hiring extra hands would require extra accommodations and though that would come with its own set of bonuses, there was something to be said about the consistency and approachability of a single door at street level on a seemingly unassuming family home.

At least, that’s what he tried to remind himself as he was startled from a rare peaceful sleep by the sound of a closed fist pounding insistently on his front door.

For a solitary moment, he considers ignoring it.

“ANTHONY! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! GET YOUR ARSE UP AND OPEN THE DAMN DOOR.” A familiar voice hollers from the front porch.

He’s out of bed before his sleep-addled brain can register the movement, turning on the lamp on his side table and grabbing a grey sweatshirt off the chair at his desk, pulling it over his head as he descends the stairs at a breakneck pace.

The several locks on their front door had never really seemed like overkill before, but they’d never stood between him and a friend in obvious distress before either. He fumbles the last of the bolts and pulls the door open to find Lucy Carlyle looking disheveled, eyes rimmed red and lip trembling, the picture of misery. Wordlessly, he opens his arms and she crumbles into them without hesitation, burying her face in his shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, until his toes remind him that he’s still barefoot and London nights are cold this time of year. He pulls away enough to usher her inside, closing the door behind them and locking it tight for the night once more. She sniffles, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen and sat in her old chair as he goes through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil for tea.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to interrogate her. If and when she’s ready to talk about it, she’ll tell him.

“I need my old room for the night.” She mumbles eventually, using a finger to trace the outline of one of the many unflattering doodles of Lockwood on the thinking cloth. “Norrie and I got into it tonight, she says she needs some space.”

He remains silent as he pours water into their mugs, trying to puzzle his way through how to make that happen. She knew that room was occupied now, and he knew she wouldn’t ask if she wasn’t in desperate need of the comfort of her old home.

Nodding decisively, he walks back to the cupboard and pulls out another cup.

“I’ll go wake her up and get the bedding changed over. Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head vehemently at the question, choosing instead to drop her head onto the table with a loud thud. He has to smother a laugh at that. Despite understanding the serious nature of the situation, he’s acutely aware that this is their first major fight in three years. Chances are they’ll be back to their obnoxiously happy ways within the week, but if he doesn’t treat this as seriously as Lucy is clearly feeling it is then he might as well turn in his best friend title on the spot.

He places her tea on the table beside her head and his own across from her, patting her shoulder reassuringly as he withdraws his hand. Doubling back to the counter, he picks up the third cup and takes it with him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, closing the door to his room as he passes it on his way to the top of the house.

Standing on the landing outside her door he falters, almost losing his nerve. Then he reminds himself this is for Lucy.

Rolling his shoulders back and straightening his posture, he raises his free hand and raps his knuckles against the wood.

Silence.

Brow furrowing, he knocks again.

Still nothing.

Raising his eyes to the ceiling he silently curses heavy sleepers, under no illusions that most of his resentment is’t based in envy.

Weighing his options for a moment, he grimaces. Go tell his woe-filled best friend he’s too much of a coward to wake their coworker himself, or risk having whatever items have accumulated on her bedside table thrown at him when he enters her room.

Unfortunately, it’s a no brainer.

He places his hand on the handle, foolishly hoping it would be locked.

It’s not.

Muttering curses under his breath, he pushes the door open and ascends the last flight of stairs into her room.

He finds himself frozen in place on the last step, entranced by how serene the scene before him appears.

She’d fallen asleep with the lamp beside her bed still on. It casts a soft golden glow across her face, and for a moment she takes his breath away.

He could feel a soft smile making itself at home on his face, an affectionate exasperation at her dedication to the written word settling comfortably in his chest.

If he hadn’t already, this would have been the moment he fell in love.

Wrestling himself from his thoughts and trying to shape his face into something at least slightly less lovesick, he thaws his feet and makes his way over to the bed.

“It’s time to wake up, beautiful.” He says, the last part slipping out unbidden.

She doesn’t react, so he closes her book and moves it to her side table to make room for himself to sit on the mattress beside her. The bed settling under his weight makes her stir, rolling onto her back and mumbling something incoherent.

When she makes no move to wake any further, he reaches across to squeeze her shoulder gently. She whines, scrunching up her face in indignance and opening bleary eyes to blink slowly at the disturbance. Her eyes come to focus on him and the tension drains from her face, a sleepy smile taking its place as she hums and rests her eyes shut again.

He smiles right back at her, letting his hand run down her arm. His intention is to pull away, but apparently she has other plans. She reaches after him, catching his hand with her own and pulling back towards her. His heart leaps into his throat and he can actively feel the blood rushing to his face as her body curls in his direction.

“Come back to bed…” She mumbles, voice still laced with exhaustion, resting her forehead against the back of his hand and sighing contentedly at the contact. He’s completely forgotten how to function, torn between blindly following her wishes and remembering why he’s in her room this late to begin with.

He’s saved from having to decide anything by her eyes suddenly flying open, face transforming from sleepy bliss to sheer mortification in the blink of an eye.

He peeks over the side of the bed to find her laying on her back with her hands over her beet red face. She parts her fingers, staring miserably at him from between them.

His lips are pressed together tightly with the effort maintaining his composure.

She cracks first, a giggle slipping past her hands.

Within seconds they’re both in stitches, almost crying with laughter. By the time they manage to compose themselves, several minutes must have passed.

He stands and walks around the bed to offer her a hand. She wipes the tears from her eyes, heaving for breath as she reaches up to accept his help and is pulled to her feet.

“Now that that’s out of the way, what the hell are you doing in my room at this time of night?” She gasps, bracing her palms on her thighs as she struggles to make her lungs understand she’s not suffocating.

Lockwood’s eyes go wide with horror.

“I’m an awful friend.” He rushes out, covering his mouth. She does a double take in response, looking like she’s about to get whiplash from the sudden shift in topic and energy.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Luce is downstairs in the kitchen right now. I guess she and Norrie had a lover's quarrel? She needs her room back for the night.”

He cringes as she gapes at him.

Thankfully, instead of scolding him she bolts into action. The bed is stripped bare before he can even process the speed with which she’s moving and suddenly she’s shoving his arms full with fabric.

“Laundry room! Now!” She snaps, already across the room rifling through her wardrobe for fresh bedding.

He’s on the second step by the time she calls him back to ask what Lucy was wearing when she showed up on their doorstep.

“Jeans and a jumper.” He calls over his shoulder as he descends the steps two at a time.

The laundry room is close to George’s room, so he decides to err on the side of caution and leave the items in the washing machine and makes a mental note to start it in the morning. By the time he finishes separating everything and has it all organized, he can hear footfalls approaching rapidly from overhead. There’s a stutter in her step and a brief scrambling noise that has him holding his breath, but she manages to rebalance herself and continues down the next flight on her way to the kitchen without losing any momentum.

His shoulders slump in relief and all at once the late hour catches up with him.

Or does it officially qualify as early now?

He’s still pondering that when he almost slips on a small puddle of liquid at the top of the stairs. The adrenaline wakes him up a bit but now he has another, if slightly more pressing, question.

What the hell is on the floor?

And then it clicks.

The tea.

She must have grabbed it off her bedside table on her way downstairs and spilled it when she almost took a tumble of her own.

He chuckles and shakes his head, almost uncomfortably aware of how smitten he is with the small tornado occupying the attic room as he turns back to grab a towel from the room he’d just left.

By the time he makes his way into the kitchen, she’s helping Lucy out of her chair and herding the girl upstairs.

He raises his eyebrow at her in a silent question, but she shoots him a look that says ‘stay here, I’ve got this’ and an almost shy smile that promises she’ll be back soon. He dips his head in understanding, shooting her a smirk that hopefully says ‘I’ll be here’ and not ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you’.

After the girls exit the room, his eye is drawn to his now lukewarm tea on the table. He sighs, reaching across the table to grab his cup.

He stares at the liquid for a while, already hearing one of George’s endless rants about wasting tea bags rattling through his head. Even when he’s asleep, Karim manages to torment him.

Shrugging, he dumps the cup out into the sink and busies himself making another to pass the time.

The kettle is starting to whistle on the stove as he opens the cupboard to grab himself a tea bag. He’s about to close it but hesitates for a moment before reaching in to grab a second. If his tea had gone cold, hers had as well.

Sure enough, her cup sat abandoned beside the sink, only down the small amount that had spilled on the staircase.

She walks back into the kitchen in a fresh pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t- shirt that looks strangely familiar just as he sets their mugs on the table, shooting him a grateful smile as she collapses into her chair.

She clasps the tea in both hands like a treasure, taking a sip and letting out a sinful sound of enjoyment that almost makes him choke, effectively distracting him from inspecting the shirt. He barely manages to pass it off as a poorly timed inhale, but she’s considerate enough to accept it with minimal teasing.

They’re both half finished before either dares to address the elephant in the room.

“So…” She starts, giving him a rueful smile.

“I’ll take the loveseat in the sitting room, you can sleep in my bed.” He states matter-of-factly, intending to leave no room for argument.

Her cocked eyebrow tells him very quickly his intention failed.

“No, I really don’t think so. I can sleep on the loveseat, your neck will be kinked for days if you do that again.” Her eyes are filled with a warning he readily ignores.

“I couldn’t very well call myself a gentleman if I let you do that, and you know it.”

“Anthony-“

“I’m not arguing this with you.”

“Fine then, we can share the bed.” She retorts, a prideful twinkle in her eye as she stares a challenge at him.

“Seems like a valid compromise.” He surprises them both with his answer, the words hanging in the air. For a moment he wishes he could unsay them, but then her face shifts.

Her eyes widen, cheeks flushing the prettiest shade of pink as she gapes at him. He beams at her, finally feeling as though he has the upper hand.

She pushes herself away from the table, standing up abruptly and padding out of the room as he leans back in his chair victoriously.

But instead of rushing to hide away in his bedroom as he expects, she catches him off guard by stopping with her hand resting on the doorframe and glancing back over her shoulder.

“Well… are you coming?”��

His mouth goes dry. Okay. He hadn’t seen that coming.

Disarmed and feeling like a floundering imbecile, he sits there in silence for a second, begging his brain to come up with some kind of charismatic reply to help him save face.

An unrecognizable emotion flashes across her face and she drops her eyes, leaving him even more confused than before.

And then his mind catches up.

Vulnerability. Uncertainty. Insecurity.

Concern.

He’s on his feet before he can overthink it, gesturing for her to lead the way. Her relief is raw, undisguisable. He passes her at the top of the stairs, opening the door to his bedroom for her and giving a teasing little bow. She laughs and rolls her eyes at his theatrics, but he can tell she appreciates the effort to set her at ease. She saunters into his room, giving the space a curious scan and he realizes it’s the first time she’s actually been in here.

He leans against the door frame, watching her approach his bookshelf and run her fingers along the spines, searching for any titles she might find familiar. A tender smile finds its way to his face once more, and this time he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it.

When she’s satisfied with her search, she shoots him a look before sighing dramatically, lifting the back of her hand to her forehead and pretending to faint onto his bed. He laughs, shaking his head as he crosses the threshold.

He considers the door for a moment, trying to decide if he should leave it open or close it.

His eyes wander across the hall to George’s door, and he closes his own with sudden and complete confidence in his decision.

A giggle from his bed tells him she’d watched his thought process play out and agreed with his choice. He turns to make a clever remark, but the words die on his tongue as soon as he lays eyes on her.

She’s laying on her side across his pillows, propped up on her elbow with her chin resting on the palm of her hand, watching him through her lashes with… another unfamiliar emotion flickering behind her eyes.

Before he can dwell on it too much, an idea occurs to him. He crosses the room swiftly with a mischievous grin, jumping and twisting his body at the last minute to land on the mattress sideways. She shrieks as she’s bounced at least a few inches into the air, cackling as the momentum from the landing rolls her closer to him. Their shoulders rub together as they laugh, laying on their back and staring up at the ceiling before falling into a comfortable silence. She lifts herself up onto her elbows, looking down at him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m absolutely exhausted. Do you know what time it is?” She queries, tilting her head in curiosity. He lifts himself up enough he can see the clock on his bedside table, hissing a breath between his teeth at the glowing numbers taunting him.

“You don't want to know.” He groans, dropping back to the bed. She pokes at his side with her elbow until he looks up at her, gesturing towards the pillows with her head. A sly smile breaks out on her face and her eyes twinkle at him.

“‘Come back to bed.’” She echoes her own words from earlier back at him playfully, poking fun at herself as she rolls onto her side and crawls up his bed. He laughs freely as he watches her, something he’s grown quite used to doing around her over the past few years. She lifts the covers, diving beneath them and wiggling around until she finds a comfortable spot laying on her side close to the wall.

Trying not to overthink himself into a tizzy, rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, grunting with the effort. He follows her lead to climb under the covers, though he’s sure he’s not nearly as graceful or cute as she had been.

Once he’s settled comfortably beside her, he finds himself feeling oddly out of place. He’d never been so aware of where his hands were while laying in bed before, but now he has no idea what to do with them. He settles for resting them awkwardly on his chest.

He can feel her staring at him.

He keeps his gaze fixed firmly on the ceiling.

She sighs in exasperation, the bed dipping under her weight as she shifts to lean over him and turn off the lamp on his side table, somehow oblivious to him forgetting how to breathe as he becomes hyper aware of every place her body is touching his own. She retracts her reach, but doesn’t move all the way back to her spot, leaving him completely blind and incredibly confused by her continued proximity.

Her hand touches his forearm, fingers dancing across his skin until she reaches his wrist, grabbing it and gently pulling until he lifts the arm closest to her into the air.

There’s shuffling noises and movement beside him, leaving him even more perplexed, until she’s resting her head on his shoulder and he declares himself officially braindead. She scoots closer, tucking her body into his side and resting her open palm on his chest.

“Goodnight, Lockwood. Sweet dreams.” She whispers in a calm voice that would have had him completely fooled if he couldn’t feel her heart pounding against his ribs. Her words restart his brain, allowing him to drop his arm around her, his hand automatically coming to rest on her hip.

“Goodnight, darling, you too.” He whispers back, and though it’s too dark for him to see her face, he can still feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

He’s honestly thankful for how tired he is, otherwise he’d never be able to fall asleep with the adrenaline coursing through his veins alongside his blood.

His fingers trace absentminded swirls on her hip as his eyes begin to droop, sleep overtaking him before his conscious mind can register it happening.

For once, his dreams are actually sweet.

When he’s finally dragged unwillingly back to consciousness, the perpetrator is sunlight streaming in through his window and directly into his eyes.

He tries to lift his right arm to block it out, but there’s an unexpected weight holding it in place.

The events of the night before rush back to him, and suddenly the blinding sun isn’t anywhere near the top of his priority list. He lets his head roll towards her just to find her already awake and looking at him.

Her hair is a mess, and he can’t help but laugh as he reaches across his body to brush it away from her face, though he’s sure he looks much the same.

His fingers linger on her cheek of their own accord.

That look in her eye from last night is back, and if he didn’t know any better he’d swear her gaze flickers to his lips for a split second.

And then, with the kind of clarity only morning light can bring, it hits him.

A bonafide lightbulb moment.

He really is a bloody simpleton.

Truly, he could be an absolute moron sometimes, and he swore to himself in that moment the next time someone told him so he’d willingly agree with them.

Acting without thinking had gone surprisingly well for him in the past twenty-four hours, so what’s one more gamble, in the grand scheme of things?

His hand slides down from her cheek, his fingers lightly caressing the back of her neck as he guides her face towards him. Her eyes flutter closed and he swears his heart is about to break free from his chest.

His lips ghost over hers, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she’s in any way uncomfortable.

As always, she surprises him, rolling her body towards him and gripping the front of his sweatshirt with both hands, using it to pull him closer to her.

There’s a need poured into the next kiss, a desperation and hunger born of pining they’d both been so certain was one sided.

He meets her intensity with his own, slipping an arm underneath her waist and placing a hand on her back to pull her tightly against him.

She lets a muffled moan slip, and a thrill runs up his spine at the thought of spending as much time as he wants learning each and every noise of pleasure she’s capable of making, and how to coax them out of her like music.

Her hands release his shirt, roaming over every inch of his body they can touch instead.

Her exploration must have caused his shirt to start to bunch around his waist because as the hand on the nape of her neck finds its way into her hair, one of her roaming hands grazes a sliver of bare skin on his hip and he gasps, automatically tightening his grip and giving her hair a gentle tug in the process. She whimpers against his lips, breaking the kiss as her head falls back in an instinctive response.

Oh. He was going to have to remember that for later.

Not that it would be a problem, that noise was going to play a part in all of his fantasies for the foreseeable future.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, he takes advantage of the opening to pull her closer and kiss her neck.

His name falls from her lips like a prayer and as he grins in delight his teeth graze her skin.

She moans in earnest at that, back arching involuntarily as she presses her body against his so close he can feel her heart beating through their clothes.

Keen to test a theory, he presses kisses up her throat until he’s high enough to catch her earlobe, letting it slide lightly between his teeth.

“Fuck.” She hisses, digging her nails into his hip. He can’t stop the growl that rumbles from his chest at that, and she hooks a leg over him in reply.

He feels like he’s drowning in her, everything in him is screaming to surrender and worship her like the goddess she is but he knows it would be too much too fast for both of them.

So, exhibiting strength he didn’t know he had, he pulls back. Gulping oxygen like he’s been holding his breath for hours and sliding his hand back down to her neck before pulling her in close enough to press a firm and reassuring kiss to her forehead until he can compose himself enough to swear he isn’t in any way rejecting her.

Somehow, as always, she understands exactly what he’s doing and balls her fists in his shirt, taking stabilizing breaths of her own.

Once he’s confident they’re both back in full control, he slides his fingers under her chin, lifting her face and pressing his lips to hers in a leisurely and indulgent kiss that promises it won’t be the last.

She hums contentedly when he pulls away again, chasing after him to give him a gentle peck.

“I really am a dunce, aren’t I?” He asks when he’s regained his composure, replaying so many events from the last several years over in his mind in a whole new light.

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, you’re right thick sometimes.”

“I really am, because now that I’m thinking about it, you are terrible at hiding how you feel.” He grins as she smacks his arm, tossing her head back and laughing.

“Like you’re one to talk! Anthony Lockwood, you are an open book and I’ve been a fool not to notice it before.” She teases, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together. He shrugs, planting a peck on her nose before dragging himself reluctantly out from under the covers.

“Up you get, if we stay in bed too much longer they’re going to start asking questions.” He offers her his hand as he whispers the last part conspiratorially.

She rolls her eyes at him but takes the offered appendage anyway, letting him pull her to her feet before trudging across his room to the door. She places her palm on the handle, but hesitates before turning it.

Seeming to steel herself for something, she turns instead to face him.

“And if they do? Y’know, ask questions?” There’s a crease between her brows that speaks of concern and it makes his heart ache, something in him begging to reach out and smooth it away.

“I suppose that depends. How attached are you to the attic?” He deadpans.

“What?” She’s taken aback, confusion painted across every feature.

“I mean, personally, I’m rather fond of this room. I did move out of the attic because I felt I’d outgrown it, but I am willing to compromise.” He smirks, waiting for her to catch on. “I’m far more fond of sharing a bed with you.” He adds quietly when she continues to stare at him in bewilderment.

Her eyes go wide when she pieces it all together.

“I believe I did, actually, yes. Thoughts?”

“I’m bad with heights and it is freezing up there in the winter.” She replies without a second’s hesitation. Soothing the twinge of protective guilt at the thought of her shivering alone in the cold with the knowledge he wouldn’t let it happen again, he grins and crosses the room to pull her into a passionate kiss.

He almost loses himself to the softness of her lips and the feeling of her body pinned between him and the door, but he manages to hold himself at least partially to the task at hand.

“Just to be perfectly transparent,” He manages to add between kisses, “I would very much like to date you.” She lifts her arms and lets them drape around his neck, pulling him close for one last kiss before separating.

“Good, because I would ‘very much’ like to date you too.” She laughs, giving him a playful shove back to make enough room to open the door to the hallway.

They exit his room holding hands and bumping shoulders as they venture towards the stairs.

George’s door flies open and they freeze, both looking at him like deer caught in headlights.

He blinks, takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, puts his glasses back on, and stands there staring at them for a long moment in only boxers and an oversized shirt.

“Fucking FINALLY.” He hollers with the intensity of a man infuriated by years of their unending mutual idiocy, storming off to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

They slowly turn to look at each other, breaking out in laughter for what must be the hundredth time in the past two days.

Before they resume their journey downstairs though, George’s oversized shirt had reminded Lockwood of something.

“Hey, I almost forgot to ask. Is that my shirt?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at her. The colour spreads from her neck to her face almost instantaneously as she begrudgingly nods, looking pointedly at the ground. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, his signature smile plastered on his face.

“Good. I like it.” He confesses, squeezing her arm reassuringly. She leans into him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they descend the stairs and head for the kitchen.

What they find upon entering the room is wildly unexpected.

Lucy and Norrie are sitting side by side with their arms crossed, both wearing the same smug smirk, five mugs of steaming hot tea placed around the table in front of them.

The girl tucked into his side gasps, connecting the dots rapidly and letting loose a quiet shriek of betrayal and indignation.

“You sneaky bitches!” There’s awe in her voice when she finally speaks, though she’s clearly not certain if she should be grateful or angry at the manipulation.

Even though he should probably be upset, feeling the warmth of her body against his and already making plans to move her belongings into his - their room, he just can’t bring himself to be anything other than thankful for their intervention.

Looking at the calendar on the wall, the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place.

Sneaky bitches indeed, he finds himself thinking as the women in question pick up their teacups to cheers each other.

Reaching down to press a kiss to the top of her head, he leans in close enough to whisper;

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

⤛⊹ 𝔣𝔦𝔫 ⊹⤜

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

#lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #reader insert #fic rec #lockwood x reader #lucy x norrie #lockwood & co #norrie white

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turtletaubwrites · 9 months ago

Text

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 6 ~ End

Thank you so much for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup !!🖤 And thank you to everyone for reading and enjoying this with me. I didn't realize I was going to put so much of myself into this yandere fic, but hey 😅 This one has been a blast!

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 4224

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law goes to extreme lengths to convince you to trust him. Can you trust your own mind after all this time under his care?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied), Birth Control, Menstruation, Discussion of Pregnancy, Brief/Implied Discussion of Sterilization Surgery, Teasing, Dom Trafalgar D. Water Law, Hand & Finger Kink, Blood, Spit, Dacryphilia, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be Safe Out There), Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Creampie, Pet Names, Overstimulation, Cunnilingus, Biting, Bruises, Hair-Pulling, Aftercare, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

A/N: This fic means so much to me. Thank you for reading! 🙏🏼 Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional.

You dropped the beating heart, watching in horror as it bounced across the floor.

“What the fuck,” you repeated in a whisper as you slid down the wall. The glass still slicing into your feet was forgotten as you tried not to throw up.

“I didn’t hurt him–”

“You cut his heart out! How– why is it–”

“Y/N, please believe me. I haven’t shown you my devil fruit powers yet, I’ll prove it to you.”

The heat of panic lacing his words tugged at you, so you forced yourself to look at that trapped heart again before you met his eyes.

“It’s how I can do surgeries like I can, okay? It’s… I’ll just show you.”

Law held his hand out, those fingers still mesmerizing you even now.

A glow formed beneath his palm, and you pulled your bloody feet toward you.

“Room.”

His voice was always powerful, but the force behind that single word caught your breath, so you weren’t breathing when that glow expanded. A blue sphere of light filled the space, passing beyond the metal room.

The glow wasn’t visible anymore, and you couldn’t explain why, but you knew it was still there. You knew that you were caught in his web, that he was in complete control.

Just like he always was.

Just like you let him be.

“Y/N,” he rasped, pulling you in. “All I want to do is take care of you. You were all alone, living in pain, in silence.”

Frantic tears fell as you fought your need to believe him. That aching need he’d created in you.

“The world abandoned you,” he coaxed, intoxicating words making your eyes drift closed before you snapped them open to make sure he hadn’t moved closer. “Everyone around you treated you like trash, didn’t they? Like your pain didn’t matter?”

He killed him, he killed him, he killed him.

The anger and resentment Law had stoked in you was agonizing. It made you feel sick to realize that a tiny part of you did want to hurt your boyfriend.

But he killed him. He ripped his heart out.

“The world left you to suffer, Y/N,” he whispered, a slight quiver in his lip tearing at you, making you want to crawl to him.

“I’ll never abandon you. Even if you fight me. Even if you hurt me. I will never stop saving you. Never.”

Silent sobs struggled through you, and you had to keep flicking your eyes down to that heart on the floor.

“I didn’t lie, Y/N. I didn’t hurt him.”

Law picked up a large piece of that broken glass, sending fear shaking through your body. He held it against his chest as he caught your eyes, before he used that powerful voice again.

“Scalpel.”

Strained whimpers left your throat as you watched Law rip a cube from his chest, another beating heart.

His beating heart that had been so soothing, so comforting, now sat pulsing in his hand.

“See, Y/N,” he said lightly, gesturing to himself, “I’m perfectly fine without this in my chest.”

You gasped as he tossed it in the air, catching it with a little smirk.

“He’s completely fine. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I should have trusted that you could handle it, you’ve been progressing so well.”

Another whimper left you as you cringed, still trying to hang on, trying to think straight.

“Y/N,” he soothed, holding his heart up between you. “You can trust me. I only want what’s best for you. I want to take care of you. If you want to leave, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Wide eyed, you fought to focus as his heart pulsed so close.

“You can leave whenever you want. I just worry about your health. About what will happen when you’re back in a world that doesn’t believe in your pain. What will you do when you have another incident like your neck, and have no one to care for you? I don’t want to see you suffer. But it’s always your choice, Y/N. All you have to do is tell me what you want.”

He’s right.

If I leave him, I’ll have to go back to all that pain. All the shame of people thinking I’m making it up for attention. All the tension of never knowing when some part of my body might wreck me.

All the pain of working jobs that made me cry after every shift. All that pain of fatigue and headaches in the middle of time with family and friends, the guilt of not having the energy to participate in life.

The grief of a life wasted by pain.

His eyes observed your every movement, widening slightly as you took a deep breath.

He’s wrong.

He’s been controlling me this whole time. And I let him.

He’s fucking crazy. Dangerous.

Staying with him might ruin my soul, hollow me out from the inside so that he can burrow himself in, turn me into his puppet.

Bend me to his will.

“Y/N,” he breathed, that gorgeous face like bait to lure you into his trap, “If you stay, you’ll be mine. I’ll take care of you. I’ll do anything for you. You know I will. You know I can give you everything you need.”

You were starting to slip away, clawing at your mind to stay here.

“Let me prove it. Take my heart.”

He grabbed your wrist, forcing that pulsing cube into your palm while you gasped.

“I told you I’ll keep saving you. Even if you fight me, even if you hurt me. Let me prove it.”

“Wh–”

“Squeeze it, Y/N,” he commanded in that voice you always obey. You resisted, but he did it again, pulling at the strings you’d let him tie around you.

“Squeeze it.”

Law crumpled to the ground, writhing and groaning in pain, and your panicked body couldn’t stop. All the pain and fear came roaring from your lips, a frustrated cry to join his moans of pain.

You squeezed his heart, watching his body thrash. Spit dripped through his bared teeth as you clenched harder, flinging as he arched his back.

A sharp, familiar pain lanced through your wrist, weakening your hold.

Law coughed, pulling himself up slowly while you cradled his heart against your chest. Feeling the frantic beat of it closer than you ever could before, you wondered if you could match heartbeats the way he’d taught you to match his breath.

“Are you okay,” he checked in. Law looked like he’d been dragged through hell, still catching his breath, thick beads of sweat dripping down his face. His damp hair was sticking to his forehead, and you couldn’t stop staring at it.

“I’m tired,” you mumbled, a headache joining the pains in your wrist and feet.

“I know, this was a lot,” he purred, scooting in closer. “I’m so sorry I put you through all of this. I wanted to protect your health by waiting to tell you, but I really fucked it up, didn’t I?”

Nodding at his sheepish little smile, you relaxed your hold on his heart. Pretty fingers took it from you, brushing against your palm as he went.

“Y/N, you can always tell me what you want,” he promised, falling into that professional voice. “But as your doctor, I request that you let me treat you now. All that glass has to be painful. And your wrist is acting up, isn’t it?”

So tired.

“Yeah,” you admitted in a small voice, your head falling back against the wall.

“You can trust me, Y/N. I’ll always take care of you,” he rasped, taking your hand and gently massaging while keeping your wrist in the right position.

“Will you let me take care of you now?”

“Please,” you breathed out, the sound barely audible.

Your body was limp as he lifted you, and he pressed his lips to your forehead while he carried you to the hospital bed.

“My good girl.”

Law.

His touch, his voice, his lips.

He was the first thing you thought of, a hum of contentment vibrating from you.

But your stretch felt wrong, and you opened your eyes to find yourself in the hospital bed.

Law!

“There you are,” he teased, appearing at your side, eyes scanning your body. “How are you feeling?”

“Did that happen?”

He quirked his lips, looking down with a sigh.

“I’m afraid it did. And I can’t apologize enough. I let you down. Would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to be on this bed.”

“Your feet need to–”

“Please.”

Your doctor carried you to the couch in his quarters, setting you on his lap while those fingers trailed over you. You’d been naked except for that sheet when you passed out, but now he reached his hand into the open back of the hospital gown he must have put you in, pressing soothing circles between your shoulder blades.

“What do you need, baby,” he whispered against your ear, humming as you shivered against him, your bandaged feet scraping along the couch.

What did you need? What did you want? What were your options?

Go back home to the same old pain and loneliness.

Let him drop you off at some random island with nothing, alone in the world, only to deal with that pain forever. Even if you did find a doctor that could and wanted to help, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.

Or you could stay.

Be his.

This man that had controlled you, probably more than you’d realized. This dangerous man, who might not even let you go if you asked. Who might punish you if you did.

This man who had a safe full of hearts, labeled with the names of those he could torture or kill anytime he wished, with just a squeeze of those tattooed hands.

DEATH.

That’s who he was. The Surgeon of Death had kept you in a cage, given you everything you ever needed, so that you would need only him.

All through your thoughts, Law didn’t make a sound. Just let those fingers bring you comfort while you tried to decide.

What’s the right choice when every choice restricts you? If your condition was curable, if the pain it caused didn’t make every day hard, some days terrible, then you could go home, or you could start a new life somewhere. It would be difficult, but not as difficult as with this dragging weight of pain and fatigue.

Just gathering the energy to clean around the house, to cook a meal, to go to work, to take a shower, sometimes even just putting on your clothes…

The thought of going back to that struggle with no support after all this time of being cared for brought a painful lump of tears into your throat.

You tried not to let them fall, but Law’s fingers caught them when they did.

“You trapped me,” you accused softly, still gazing into nothing.

“Mm, Y/N,” he rasped, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, “it seemed like you were already trapped when we met. I’ve just helped you. I know what you need. You know I do.”

I know.

He gives me everything I ever needed, more than I could have dreamed of.

Countless thoughts of gentle hands, sweet praise, and that calming breath to follow… Your body wanted to stay.

Your mind was caught in right or wrong, safe or deadly, smart or stupid.

Leaning back, you looked into those stone gray eyes, seeing how long your moral outrage could keep you from letting him build that wall around you again.

“You know, Y/N,” he said with a subtle smirk, “if you stay you’ll be mine. But I’ll be yours too. I’ll take care of you forever. You can trust me.”

Does it make me a bad person if I choose the villain? What if it’s the only good choice I have?

No matter what path I choose for my life, my pain will never let me be free.

So I might as well choose the prettiest cage.

“Yes,” you confessed your sin, relaxing into his arms. “I trust you.”

Satisfaction poured from him, making you shiver as he pressed his lips to yours.

“My perfect girl, doing so well for me,” he purred, velvet words wrapping around you like chains. “Do you feel better now?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, melting as he kissed your neck. The tickle of his facial hair was like a distraction as he tugged at the ties of your gown, leaving you exposed.

“Let me look at you,” he commanded gently, his arm around your shoulders guiding you to lean back, resting against the armrest.

There had always been something hidden beneath the way Law looked at you when he was being your doctor. That hint of need and danger was probably what had snared you, that promise of heat. But now the mask was gone, and you trembled in the lap of a monster.

Law looked at you with the manic eyes of a child poking a dying animal with a stick. Wanting to see what kind of noises he could draw out of you, how long he could play with you before you fell apart.

That entitled glee of power over a creature helpless against his will.

You felt like a hopeless idiot for seeing a mix of admiration and tenderness in all that ownership, but you didn’t care.

“My sweet, Y/N,” he rasped, tracing tattooed fingers down your body. “You’ve gone tense again. You know–”

He let out a surprised groan when you kissed him, giving him as much chaos as you could.

Law had fanned the flames, manipulating you into thinking of nothing but him for weeks, a couple months now. And it had worked.

You were obsessed with him.

A sick need filled you to have every fucking piece of him touch you, take you. You let him taste your own manic hunger as you forced your tongue into his mouth.

Your wrist brace limited your grip as you tried to pull his face toward yours, but you moaned into his mouth when he met you.

His arms wrapped around you, cradling your head against him as you both nearly choked on that brutal kiss.

Desperate whines left your throat, making him growl against you as you tried to claw at his clothes.

Law didn’t break that wild kiss as he stood, lifting you with him. You expected to be tossed onto the bed, but he turned to set you gently on the couch with your bandaged feet propped on the cushions, leaving you to whine again as his lips finally left yours.

Until you gasped, watching him shove the coffee table away, all of its perfectly organized piles scattering while he knelt in front of you.

Your mouth fell open with need as you watched the stretch and pull of his tattooed muscles while he tore his shirt off.

“You like what you see,” he rasped, his taunting voice making your eyes roll back.

His pleased laughter surrounded you as he grabbed you, moving you where he wanted. A muffled moan left you as he held your chin, making you open your eyes to the sight of him between your legs.

Your eyes rolled back again until he dug his fingers in, the sharp pain making you cry out, your body twisting with need.

“This kind of pain is different, huh, baby,” he explained, kissing your knee before giving you a devious little smile. “So much pain everyday. But you trust I’ll help you with that, don’t you?”

You nodded, wordless as you watched his hungry mouth leave warning kisses along your thighs, closer and closer.

“Your soft, pretty skin bruises so easily, doesn’t it,” he teased, danger growing in his dark eyes.

“But I’ll take care of you. I can give you pain tha–”

“Hurt me, please.”

You had never felt more pride than when you watched his eyes roll white before his little smile turned into a satisfied grin.

“Good girl.”

Law kept those eyes on you, the doctor observing his patient, as he sunk his teeth into your thigh. Your back arched as you moaned, the sting of his bite so overwhelming, but so fucking good. It felt like the pain shot in a direct line to your core, building that ache.

Law loosened his bite, licking over his mark, the softness of him over that tender flesh making you shake.

“You did so well,” he purred, leaving one last kiss on your new brand. “I told you I know what your body needs, Y/N. Just look at this.”

Law’s tattooed hands held your thighs in place as he licked a long stripe through your folds, letting his tongue loll out to show you how drenched you were. Your slick dripped off of his tongue until he licked his lips, head tilting back as he let out a shuddering breath.

“Fuuckk, I knew you’d taste fucking sweet,” he breathed, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. “But this…”

You bit your lip, a little fear crawling back in at the look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna eat you,” he threatened, head moving lower while you held your breath, “and you’re gonna let me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

You lied. You didn’t understand.

Law was so meticulous, so controlled. Everything he did was catered to your pleasure.

But this was somehow greedy. Almost as if he were taking more he was giving, eating up your pleasure with that air of ownership. Every moan you gave was his, every gasp, every twitch. He controlled you. He held you in place, laughing against your folds while you cried out his name.

“Grab my hair,” he commanded, leaving your clit for a moment.

You obeyed, fisting into those black strands while he watched you.

“Harder.”

Like a loop of pleasure, your fingers tugging his hair at the roots made him let out a deep moan as he shoved his tongue in your needy cunt. One of his hands curled around your hip to play with your clit, the barest of touches bringing you screaming, coming, gushing into his mouth.

Law let out more hungry moans against you, your body only spurring him on until you were crying, too lost to pleasure to beg him to stop.

You tried to tug at his hair again, to make him stop. It was too much.

But he only glared at you, shaking his head to get your hands off. That shook his face against you, his facial hair rubbing against your clit making your back arch again.

Finally, he slowed, chuckling softly as he stroked his tongue in gentle lines along your folds, barely teasing your sensitive clit while you twitched and gasped.

“You’d better get used to coming in my mouth like that, pretty,” he taunted as he picked you up from the couch, kissing the tears from your cheeks. “Especially if you’re going to keep injuring yourself.”

He set you on the bed, minding your bandaged feet as he shook his head.

You tried to pay attention to his scolding as he finished stripping, revealing that gorgeous, thick cock.

“Since it was partly my fault, I won’t blame you,” he rasped, sitting at the edge of the bed to trace a finger around your ankle, “but you need to take better care of this body for me, okay?”

He crawled up the bed, his hands and lips claiming your body as he went, until he caught your chin in his hand.

“You–”

“I need you, Law,” you interrupted, holding onto his wrist as he subtly restrained you.

He could be angry with you for interrupting him again. You had no idea how he would react to things in this new world you’d just created together.

But part of you felt like he needed to hear it.

Why else would he give so much of his energy, his life for me?

He started again, brows creased just slightly, but you cut him off, squeezing his wrist as much as you could with your weakened grip.

“I trust you, Law. I’ll listen to you. I know you’ll take care of me,” you confessed with a tired smile, a sigh leaving your lips.

“Do you need me too?”

The words were so soft. So pathetic. You wished you could take them back.

You waited for ridicule, or punishment, or just coldness to leave his lips.

He looked down, his eyes dark before he crawled over you, caging you in. Fear almost took you over, but you stayed relaxed, just as he'd taught you.

“Do you consent to–”

“Yes,” you breathed as he lined himself up, clutching at the blanket while you waited.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, moaning as he pushed into you. He’d put your legs over his shoulders, his body moving closer and closer to yours until he kissed you. Slowly, thoroughly, moving his cock and his tongue into you once again while you gave in.

The feeling of taking Law inside of you after all that time of aching for him was unreal, it was everything.

“Ask me again,” he rasped as he pulled back from the kiss. His thrusts grew more demanding, and you tried to follow his instructions before he sent you speechless again.

“Do… Do you need me too?”

He tore a scream from your throat, a brutal thrust right where you needed him sending you reeling.

“I need you to stay relaxed for me.”

Another vicious thrust.

“I need you to trust your doctor, and listen to my orders.”

More desperate screams. Law’s eyes were fierce, jagged rocks piercing into you as he fucked himself through your body.

“I need you to be a good girl, and tell me what your body wants.”

“You, Law, want you, please…”

Law slowed, pressing down against you. Your thighs gave him no resistance as he bent you how he wanted.

His thrusts were slower, but so fucking deep, and your eyes were rolling back as you moaned for him.

He kissed you, then kept his face above yours, observing you as you fell apart.

“I need you to stay.”

Law’s confession was so quiet, it was almost lost as you screamed his name.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned against your ear, "you're fucking perfect for me, baby."

His rhythm staggered until you both left this metal box, exploding through some distant sky, nails digging into each other’s skin so you wouldn’t be lost in the void.

You needed him.

You needed him in every possible way, and nothing else mattered as your senses were overcome by him. His scent, his skin, the way his eyes burned into yours. That dangerous voice, those powerful hands. His pulsing, twitching cock claiming your body again, hot ropes of come that kept filling you, almost too much, too much heat spilling out of you.

“Law,” you whimpered as he pulled away.

“I’m right here.”

Warm hands, soft cloth cleaning your skin. Delicate presses of lips across your body as he looked you over.

“Law,” you pleaded, reaching your hands out, but he gently moved them aside to inspect your chin where he’d gripped you. He checked your bandages, then laid between your thighs, hissing as he traced around the bruise already spreading from his bite.

“I hurt you,” he admitted, a guilt there you hadn’t heard before.

“I loved it,” you soothed, propping up on your elbows to see the impressive mark for yourself.

“It’s…”

“You knew I’d bruise easily,” you teased, poking his shoulder. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll go get you an ice pack.”

“Law! Please, I want to leave it. I’ll ice it tomorrow. Just help me walk to the bathroom, and then carry me to bed, okay?”

He stared at it for too long, but finally agreed, obeying your orders for once.

Those strong arms, those hands marked with death, carried you into his bed as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. You tried to melt against him, but there was a tension running through his body that you had to take down.

The realization hit you, filling you with tingling warmth as you matched his shaky breathing. This man who took you for his own, stole you away to make himself your world, would really do anything for you.

Law had put his heart in your hand, and let you torture him to prove it.

Your doctor had broken you. But it seemed… You hoped that it had cut both ways.

His skin was still salty as you left a soft kiss on the lines of ink carved into his chest.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright? Do you need anything,” he asked. His pretty fingers stroked almost nervously along your skin as he held you close.

“Say it again.”

“What–”

“I need you to say it again,” you commanded, needing it to be true. You listened to that comforting heartbeat, your head rising and falling with his chest as he released a breath.

Law’s confession wrapped you both in velvet chains.

“I need you to stay.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you so much for joining me on this ride. It was supposed to be a smutty one shot, but it ended up being something really personal and healing for me. I hope you enjoyed this story. We all deserve our own crazy, heart stealing, bad doctor to care for our every need. I hope you all know that you're not alone. I believe you 🖤

If you'd like to read about the message I intended with this story, as well as how bad our bad doctor really is, you can find the link here:

Author's Notes About the Message & Law's True Nature

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prose-for-hire · 2 years ago

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L is for the way you look at me

Pairing: Lorne x reader

Request: How about Lorne (platonic or soft romantic or too many options?) and neutral or fem reader, reader is a writer, expressive when you've gotten to know them, who is noodling around trying to write a song to put in their story, and when hearing the plight, Lorne offers help? By singing and helping them smooth out the lyrics into something that can actually be sung, (don't need to be specific of course) with the reader supplying lyrics and tune a bit so Lorne gets the idea of what they're going for?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: Changed just a little from the request (you’ll hardly notice it, promise). If I could write lyrics for songs I would but I didn’t want it to fall flat so you’ll have to imagine the beautiful lyrics that Lorne writes for the reader. I really could have used him to help supply the lyrics for this fic lol

You were a writer. It had been a hobby but it had become such an intrinsic part of your life, of your identity. It was pretty much always on your mind now. Ideas plagued your mind night and day. You had to write them down immediately which meant you were often found making a mad dash to find a notebook and a pen.

You kept all of your thoughts inside, only waiting for the moment you could commit them to paper. This left you wondering through life in a kind of dream state, somewhere between your fantasies and reality. You were a romantic, preferring to write love stories into whatever genre you had been currently taken by.

It was hard to find times to write since you had met your friends. Your reality had quickly become something that you might have only created in the wildest corners of your imagination. You had met them all first when your apartment had a demon-problem. You had been one of the helpless that needed, well, helping.

Angel Investigations had uncovered a demon cult living in your building’s basement and you had stumbled into helping them, you were a fast reader and were good at picking out the important information from an online demon-search. After this, you kept running into them and after you lost your job (through no fault of your own, you had just been daydreaming a little more than actually… working) Angel offered you a researching role with the team.

This was when you met him. Lorne. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t the inspiration for most of the romantic notions that you committed to paper of late. You had all gone to Caritas and you had been taken by the way his skin shimmered emerald in the stage lighting. The way he held himself with such confidence. How he could change the atmosphere of even the coldest room with a single note.

You had become used to watching him from afar, he was so friendly towards you but he was the same way with almost anyone he met. It was something you liked about him, he was kind until given a reason otherwise. You got the impression that due to his confidence on stage, if he was attracted to you in any way he would have made it known.

So, rather than make your own little crush known, you decided to keep it hidden and pray that you were never asked to sing in front of him again. You threw yourself into your work, the researching that now took up so much of your time. And clawed every spare moment for your writing. You were focusing on finishing your novel. You were going to call it very loosely based on your brief time with Angel investigations, but there did happen to be a main love interest

And, of course, there needed to be a beautiful song that tied both the magic and the love story together. The only problem was that you didn’t know the first thing about writing lyrics to music. But you knew someone who did.

Gunn was someone you trusted completely. He was your best friend. You were opposites in some sense, but your friendship was incredibly strong. You told him most things, but he somehow (after being asked for the 100th time for him to read over a draft of your story) figured out something you had forgotten to mention.

He had read your novel so far and given you some pointers (mostly about more realistic fight scenes which was very much appreciated) and had noticed a big theme in your writing. The ‘main characters’ longing for the charismatic, musical love interest.

Gunn was leaning against the doorway of the room of the Hotel you often slipped away to so that you could write.

“I, uh, think I might ask Lorne for some help with those lyrics. For my story.” You were aiming for nonchalant but you weren’t able to make eye contact with him while you said it.

“It’s about time you made your move” Gunn chuckled at your attempt to be chill.

“I’m not making a move! I’m just asking for some… is it really that obvious?”

“Even Angel noticed, man” He shook his head at you, with a slight smile and clapped a hand against your shoulder, “You’re a good writer, but you ain’t that good”

“I am that good”

“That why you need someone to write lyrics for you?”

“I have some ideas, I just want to make sure they would fit to music. That’s all”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll catch you later, there’s probably some demon Wes needs taking care of”

“Have fun!” You called and he gave you a look that said ‘you too’ with a raise of his eyebrows. You threw your pen at him and missed as he walked out the door.

“Can you believe this? We’ve only just opened and we’re already running out of Yak’s bile”

“Yum” You deadpanned and the sparkle in his eyes were back as he looked at you again. He forgot just how human you were sometimes.

You see, he wasn’t used to so much respect or attention from someone that looked like you. If any humans did stumble into the bar or he didn’t hide himself well enough on the street, they would stare or whisper harsh words. Never affording him eye contact and never seeing him as anything close to an equal.

He had a soft spot for you. A big one. He adored you but kept out of your way. He decided that he knew better than to expect you to reciprocate his feelings. And God, did he have feelings for you. He was in deep. His eyes always on you whenever you were in the room.

“What can I do for you today, sugar? I think we have enough left to make your usual”

“You know my usual?” You questioned as he started to make it for you.

“Well of course! Prescient over here, even if I didn’t I could see it coming” He gestured with the tumbler in his hand and lit up when he heard your laugh.

“Actually, could I ask a favour? The novel I’m writing, I could use some advice”

“Oo, the famous book! I’m honoured, sweetness”

You smiled softly, looking at the ground. He could make you smile no matter how you had been feeling before you were in his presence. You found yourself getting nervous. As if he would see straight through your feelings if you so much as breathed wrong. He was incredibly perceptive, something you loved about him. Love.

You tried to ignore the word, push down the feeling as you started to explain the issues you were having with trying to write the lyrics. You were muffled by the music that had started up, however. Someone started singing Barry Manilow and Lorne muttered something scathing about thinking he had destroyed all records of his discography on the premises. It was loud and the individual hadn’t yet hit a note.

He gestured for you to follow him, somewhere quieter. You sat across from him in his office, he closed the door behind you, shutting out a version of Mandy that was almost as bad as Angel’s. He always made you feel so comfortable. His presence, to be even sat before him made even the worst day turn into the best.

You spent an hour, maybe two, coming up with lyrics that fit with the feelings mentioned in the novel. But it felt like much less time. Every moment you spent with him felt sacred. When he started to sing the hook of the song you had written together, mostly under his instruction, you near-swooned.

You nodded along, reading the lyrics but not joining in. You were too wary that you might reveal too much. He walked around to your side of the table, leaning over you to read the lyrics you had made together. He inhaled slowly, you smelled so good to him. He just wished he could be seen as anything other than a monster.

As if you had read his mind, you turned towards him, he was so close you could almost feel his breath against your neck. It made you shiver with such anticipation, his eye caught yours. The look in his eye mirrored yours. You were dancing too close to the truth, the lyrics, those words, they echoed your real feelings. Your deep, unending adoration for this man.

“You’re beautiful, did you know that?” You asked slowly, fast becoming lost in his eyes. You reached for him softly, your thumb tracing his jawline. His eyes closed at the contact, a content sigh expelled from his lips. He had never felt this way before, so adored by someone that he had silently loved from the first moment he saw them.

“I love you” He whispered, the words barely audible. You worried you had misheard him but the vulnerable look in his eyes told you that you had heard correctly. You reached for him, pressing your lips against his. It was gentle, the tender movements as if each of you were scared you may wake yourself up from a beautiful dream. As his hands slid to cup the base of your skull, the kiss deepening. It was cosmic, every star had aligned. The powers paving the way to this life-altering moment.

You reached to clasp his hand with your free one, lacing your fingers together as you poured every unspoken feeling you had ever harboured towards him. Your love, your Lorne. How you had dreamed of this moment, how you had written with such fervour to try and capture even a fraction of the magic that you felt with his lips on yours.

You knew with certainty that your novel was going to have a happy ending, now that you could dare to hope for one too.

#Lorne #krevlornswath of the deathwok clan #Lorne x reader #Lorne x you #ats #ats x reader #ats imagine #angel the series #btvs imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #gender neutral #x reader #gn

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ushidoux · 4 years ago

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Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match. (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day -

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly.

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this.

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale - not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself.

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall.

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit.

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room.

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense?

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you.

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry.

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle.

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool.

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior.

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts.

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think.

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down.

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you.

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips.

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf.

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call.

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click.

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call.

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh.

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully,

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying.

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor.

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well.

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new.

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you.

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him.

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either.

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him.

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ceo!ushijima x reader #ceo collab #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #not sfw #fic: power struggle #mae.writing #hqintheclub

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Note

Just an idea for a concept but no pressure: cheating harry and y/n just finished having sex and they are cuddling (u know being all cute and I love) and Anna turns up at Harry’s door seeing if they can hang out coz they never do and he wasn’t answering his phone and she tried to just walk into his place like he did when she turned up and they were watching that movie (I’m not sure of the name of the concept) and he had to force her to stay outside and it’s really angst between them coz she gets really suspicious but eventually leaves and he just goes and cuddled in bed with y/n and they laugh about it

Disruptions

warnings: cheating, smut, brief mention of domestic violence, panic attacks, this could just be overall triggering if you have experienced trauma or family struggles.

if you enjoyed this blurb - PLEASE reblog, rec, like, and come chat with me about the fic!

—

“Puppy, yeah,” Harry murmurs encouragingly, she was almost there and she looked like an angel in the low light, “Y’look so pretty, give it t’me.”

YN whines in the back of her throat, her hips were slowly rolling forward as she sat atop of him - trying milk that friction of her clit.

“Sweet thing, c’mon,” Harry goads, gripping her waist with strong hands to speed up her languid rolls as he wants her to finish before him.

“Close, H,” YN sweetly chirps, letting him lead her motions until she’s halting and throwing her head back in bliss, lips parting and eye squeezed shut.

“There y’go, good fuckin’ girl,” He praises her before giving two more pumps before he’s releasing right after her.

As he is in the midsts of his orgasm, he hears a quiet ‘I love you’ from above him as she rubs at his chest as he rides it out.

Harry could have heard that whisper from across the fucking ocean, it has him sitting up and pulling her into a hard kiss before babbling against her sore lips.

“Puppy, I love you. You’re so perfect for me. Y’don’t even have t’wonder why you’re the only one I give it to,” He tells her confidently, panting against her mouth.

She doesn’t say anything but her smile is enough for him, he carefully pulls out and flips her on her back before grabbing a towel and wiping her down with adoration deep in his bones.

When she had just curled in to his side, pressing her bare chest against his warm skin, he kisses the top of her head, “You’re my favorite person, y’know that?”

“Harry,” She says, barely above a whisper with her face nuzzled in tight - shying away from what she really feels.

“Please baby,” He replies softly, she knows what he asking for and she will never say no to him when it comes to this.

“I know. I love you s-so much.”

“Whoa, pup. Don’t cry,” Harry chuckles sweetly, “I know, I know you do. Believe me I do.”

She nods, sniffling, she sometimes get emotional after they had intimate slow sex as opposed to the high intensity, lust-driven kind.

It’s quiet as Harry scratches up and down her back, soothing her like he always has and always will, no matter what.

He always finds inner peace when her breathing slows and her facial features relax - all worries and anxiety disappearing.

She had just let out a light snore when he hears a banging on his front door, loud and insistent, and it has YN sitting straight up in bed.

“Wha-Harry, I-who?” YN stammers, her chest starting to heave as she begins to panic from the sudden noise.

“Harry, you have to leave,” YN whimpers, the knocking deafening on the front door, “My mum locked him out and he’s going to break it down.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone!” He hisses back, standing up and locking her bedroom door, “Let’s go sneak out the window to my house.”

—-

Harry’s automatically furious with whoever it is, the love of his life triggered as he just knows she’s reliving one of her awful memories.

“Sweetheart, please breathe. S’okay, you know I’d never let anything hurt you. Never have, never will,” Harry coos, he’s standing up to walk to his closet, reaching up for the weighted blanket he keeps for her. “I’m gonna go see who it is.”

“Y-you can’t! You’ll get hurt! Don’t, please,” she begs, eyes wide in fear for him and his safety as she pants.

Harry wraps her like a burrito in the blanket before looking her firmly in her eye, “Remember what your therapist said for when you’re panicking. Do that, please baby.”

She searches his eyes before hesitantly letting hers close, focusing on her breathing and imaging a happy place away from here - a meadow with Harry is what she likes to think about.

Harry slips on his briefs and athletic shorts with annoyance - well absolute rage really. He’s stomping down his stairs with loud steps.

He whips open the front door to see Anna standing there with a pursed look, “Oh, look! So you are alive! What a miracle.”

Harry automatically glares at her, “It’s past bloody midnight, what are you doing here?”

She scoffs in disbelief, “You ditched me tonight! You were suppose to come to the bar with my friends and I! And then you just never answered your phone.”

Yeah, well he had forgotten because YN wanted to watch a new movie and he could never say no to YN.

“I fuckin’ forgot, shit,” Harry huffs, not moving aside to let her in as she steps forward.

“Well, I came over so we could hang out,” Her voice mellowing out a little bit, features softening as she reaches out to stroke his bicep.

All he could think about was his afraid little love upstair using her coping skills to deal with the panic Anna had set off.

“Why would I want to hang out at fuckin’ two-thirty in the mornin’?” Harry replies blandly, like she’s an idiot.

“We could cuddle? Watch a movie?” Anna suggests with a shrug, attempting to giving him a coy look, “Fuck?”

They’d never even done anything apart from a few pecks.

“S’late, I’m too tired for this bullshit.”

“How is that bullshit? It’s so fucking annoying Harry! I know if you’re little bitch of a friend wanted to do that you would!”

She was completely right.

When he hears the vulgar name being thrown at YN, he grits his teeth and says, “Watch your fuckin’ tone, I’ll text y’tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine,” Anna surrenders angrily, turning on her heel and storming back to her car.

Harry slams his door shut so she gets the hint but then automatically feels regretful as he knows it didn’t make YN feel any better.

When he goes up to the bedroom, she’s not in the bed, and Harry hears the shower going so he’s stepping into his bathroom.

It’s a glass door and he can see the beautiful form of her from behind it. There’s not steam in the room because he knows the water is cold.

Not ice cold but barely warm.

When the imagery and breathing didn’t help, usually a cold shower was next, and Harry carefully slides open the door.

“Hi baby,” He murmurs, keeping his eyes on hers and nowhere else - not wandering or curious like they’d be if she was okay.

“Hi,” She answers shakily, her eyes were a bit swollen and puffy but she was giving him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Do y’need anythin’?”

He wasn’t going to ask to come in because it wasn’t about him.

YN nods, “Will you come hold me? I-it’s cold so if you don’t want to-“

He’s already stripping, he’s hold her in the waters of Antarctica if she asked - he was so bloody gone for her, past the point of self-preservation.

Harry’s wrapping her up in his arms, trying to hide his grimace at the cold stream - colder than her usual but she rarely gets woken up like that.

Therapy had been doing wonders for her.

It may seem like it’s still an intense reaction but it had improved so much from where she had started before the help.

—

Harry had a key to her apartment and he had texted her multiple times that’s he was coming over but she must have forgotten.

She was cleaning her kitchen when he opened the door.

Luckily, he managed to duck as a plate comes hurling at him. This wasn’t the first time it’s happened - not close.

As it hits the wall and shatters, he looks up to find her guiltily meeting his gaze before mumbling out an apology.

He steps over it, meeting her in the kitchen, and kissing her nose, “S’okay, y’didnt get me. I just wished you weren’t so scared, pup.”

—

“It was Anna,” YN states against his damp skin.

“Yeah, I ditched her and she was pissed,” Harry shrugs, unbothered and coldly uncaring about the situation.

“Mmm,” She acknowledges lowly, her hands snaking around his waist.

“Please.”

It was simple, YN knew what he was asking.

Please let me break up with her.

It hurt YN just as much when she couldn’t do anything but shake her head ‘no’ and swallow harshly.

—

Whew doggy. Thoughts?

#harry styles cheating #cheating!harry blurb #cheating!harry masterlist #cheating!harry #harry styles writing

374 notes · View notes

biletdoux · 4 years ago

Text

stages of love | j.jh

Pairing | jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader Rating | M Genre + Tropes | college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut) Warnings | explicit language, alcohol consumption, instant love?, sexual content (drunk sex, receiving and giving oral, penetration, cow girl position, nipple play), greyzone fidelity Length | 15k+

Summary | A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: ahhhhhhh!!!! we finally did it boisssss. this fic has been a long time coming and honestly im sick and tired of jaehyun. i’ve spent too long thinking about him for this fic smh. this is also my first time writing smut so we’ll see how that goes lmao. anyway this was a long labor of love so please let me know what you thought of it !!! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be on your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?”

Your professor looks up from the board, scans the room and all he sees are most of the students waiting with bated breath, itching to leave the class, and half of those students having already packed their belongings in anticipation. He held them back an extra twenty five minutes today, which is notably longer than previous lectures in which he delayed dismissal.

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he has a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you have agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them.

You’re one of the first out of the small lecture hall and you shoot her a quick reply before making your way to the oncampus cafe. Through quickened strides and shortcuts engrained from cross-campus treks from class to class, you arrive in record time. You’re slightly out of breath and impressed by your speed, but you stop, frozen in your tracks when you see Yeri’s displeased face. You find her situated in a small, but cozy corner next to the windows, already unpacked with notebooks and papers strewn on the desk ready to review for exams. It's one of the best study spots in the cafe and you immediately know your best friend had to come extra early to nab such a sought after table.

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.”

Yeri looks at your jutted lips in disgust, but then her face softens in consideration. “Hm, I do know Jang.” She scrunches up her nose remembering her time in his class last semester. “That old man can talk for days on end and he never lets anyone leave class early. I guess I’ll let you go this time.”

You beam at her knowing she’s no longer angry for your tardiness. “Great, drinks are on me today. It’s the least I can do for being late.” Yeri forgives as easily and as quickly as she loses her temper. You learned this after a few weeks of being her roommate.

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserves for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

After paying, you head back to the table with two drinks in tow. Yeri takes her drink and after you both take a few sips and catch up for the day, you dive straight to work. The two of you decide to review for statistics.

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a performing arts college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second.

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.”

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.”

You happily agree and set down your pen. Yeri takes a sip of her frappuccino and you lean over the table to get closer to her. “Anyway, did you hear about what happened with Jiwon and Youngjae from the entertainment management department?”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri.

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit.

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

The two of you look up to see a slim and boyish brunet waving to Yeri and excitedly making his way to your table. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it, so you let it go.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?”

He flushes just the slightest bit, but it doesn’t escape your eyes. “Erm, nothing I just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting for the music theory project tomorrow at four. I would’ve texted, but I forgot to get your number in class, and I saw you here and thought it was a good opportunity to tell you.”

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

She reaches her hand out her hand expectantly, and Mark is confused before scrambling to pull out his phone. You can tell Mark looks flustered while Yeri is calmly putting in her contact information. After finishing, she hands his phone back, “okay, all set. Just shoot me a text so I have your number as well. Thanks for reminding me today or I probably would’ve forgotten and not have shown up or something.”

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.”

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind.

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri seems apathetic and you study her closely. You notice she’s acting a little too stiffly carefree to be truly indifferent to the situation. You can’t help, but to tease her a bit. “Well, make the most out of this project then.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing.

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

“As I was saying,” you started up again. A figure outside catches your attention and you peer outside through the window past Yeri’s shoulders. You realize it’s Mark and you watch with interest as he gestures excitedly, pointing to something in his hand, you assume his phone, to some of his friends. From there your eyes wander absentmindedly from one person to the next, and it’s when you see him.

The reaction is almost instantaneous.

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

When you see said boy laugh, you notice he has moon for eyes and you unconsciously suck in a sharp breath. You must have been staring too intently without noticing because he turns his head in your direction and you two hold direct eye contact. Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze and lose all rational thought. Your head is completely blank. You have never seen someone so beautiful and your mind does not know how to process any sensory information at the moment.

Someone calls the boy away and the entire group of friends leave. It’s only then do you find yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding onto so tightly. Your heart is pounding and you feel as though blood is rushing through your ears.

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her.

You feel a sudden heat rush to color your cheeks a vibrant red and a feeling surges through you that leaves you out of breath and weak at the knees. A steady warmth washes over you quietly and you feel it deep within yourself and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

2. Shadow by f(x)

adoration from afar.

“I’m really really into you.”

The next few weeks are packed to the brim with assignments and papers, but despite this, you still find time for your personal research into the boy who was with Mark that day.

Being the obvious first and easiest option, you beg Yeri to ask Mark directly about his friend, but she immediately shoots you down.

“No. Absolutely not. At least not anytime soon anyway,” she huffs. “I’ve barely held two full conversations with him, like hell the next is gonna be about his friend just cause my best friend started thirsting over him after one glance. I mean come on, girl.” She shakes her head at you.

Yeri’s right and you apologize to her for being thoughtless of her situation. She doesn’t say it, but she seems really hopeful about the music theory project and what might bloom from it. You would not want to impede on such possibilities of happiness for your friend, so you let that option go, but Yeri promises to help in other ways and she does.

Somehow between caffeine fueled cram sessions and sleep deprivation, you, with Yeri’s help manage to find out more about the boy. You casually ask around in your contemporary writing and production department and she offers help by searching her vocal performance department.

You find out his name is Jung Jaehyun and he’s a third year in the musical theatre department and that he’s a member of the local chapter of the performing arts fraternity on campus. You also discover his Instagram handle and you find yourself skimming through his page throughout the day more often than you’re willing to admit to any living soul.

You occasionally see him around campus since you first saw him at the cafe and each time, you can feel your heart hammer in your chest and you become so flustered to the point of your sympathetic nervous system activating. Unfortunately for you, your body unconsciously chooses flight each and every time at the sight of Jaehyun because you can always feel your knees go weak and your body lurch away to escape in any direction that isn’t Jaehyun’s. You kind of hate yourself each time you do, but you can’t help it. He’s just so pretty that it’s intimidating!

You try to think positive after the bouts of shame you experience after each escapade.

Well there’s no way to embarrass yourself in front of him if you run away before having the chance to, right?

Even thinking about it now in the comfort of your bed, you can’t shake your self-consciousness and bury your face in a large pillow resting on your knees. Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to do.

“Hey, why don’t you just talk to him, instead of moping all day and stalking his profile like a creep.” Yeri’s crisp words cut through your musings and you glance up to see her entering your shared room in the dorms.

“Shut up. It’s not like I have a benevolent match-making professor who happens to pair me up with my crush for an end-of-semester project.” You retort back before sighing dramatically, “I literally have no excuse to talk to him. We’re not in the same year or major. We don’t even have mutual friends. Unless, y’know, you and Mark hit it off, who knows.”

Yeri sits down next to you on your small twin bed, resting her head on your shoulder while letting out an equally dramatic sigh, “yeah, well, Mark’s so dense, all the divine intervention in the world isn’t going to help me.”

You let out snort, “what’s up with you two anyway?”

“Y’know, I could’ve sworn he was into me and I had a chance with him, but every time we meet up we literally only work on the project and nothing else. Every time I sort of tried to do something I get shot down. Like I told him I was kind of chilly today in the library, and he looks all thoughtful for a moment but all he ends up saying is ‘yeah, all the buildings on campus are always cold, huh? Good thing I always bring a jacket with me. You should bring one too next time, I don’t want you getting cold.’ And then he just turns back to the project like nothing. Can you believe him?” Yeri complains and you swear her annoyance is palpable. “And every time I text him to hangout, he thinks it’s to work on the project. I honestly can’t tell if he’s really that stupid or if he’s just not into me.”

You laugh at her unfortunate, but undeniable state of love affairs.

“Really? That bad? I remember him being all blushy when he asked for your number,” you recall. “And you should’ve seen how he looked when he showed off he got your number. Well that’s what it looked like anyway, I could be wrong.”

“Well, at least I’ll get a good grade though. Mark is nothing if not diligent and hard-working, with him being a double major and all.” Yeri sounds resigned however, she sighs again, this time more frustrated and you hear the determination in her voice. “Alright, after finals, for sure we’re gonna hit the clubs. We need to let loose, have some fun.”

You agree with her to appease her short temper, but deep down you feel disappointed. You feel sorry for your friend, having genuinely wanted Mark and her to work out, but a small and selfish part of you felt sorry for having no bridge to Jaehyun at all if it didn’t work out between Yeri and Mark. Looks like you were stranded now and you’d have to find a way to Jaehyun one way or another, but your line of help ends here.

Shaking away such negative thoughts, you think to yourself how soju bombs and dance floors don’t so bad after such an intense exam period after all. It will definitely take your mind off of things for sure.

And even though you say this to yourself, you know your mind will still be plagued with Jung Jaehyun no matter how much you try.

3. What Is Love by EXO-K

careful contemplation.

“I can’t explain what I feel.”

“Mark, tell me you did not.” The disbelief in Johnny’s voice made the situation all the more hilarious and even Jaehyun, who’s the calmer of the two, couldn’t suppress the guffaw from escaping his lips.

The tips of Mark’s ears flush a light pink and he tries to deliver a convincing argument, but all that comes out is a meek stammer, further driving Johnny up the wall.

When Mark came up to his and Johnny’s room asking for advice, Jaehyun had an idea of where it was going to lead, considering Mark’s clueless disposition and inexperienced track record, but Jaehyun had no idea it was going to be this bad.

Mark, having developed a crush on a fellow vocal performance major in his music theory class, came to Johnny, his frat big, to spill his guts and ask for advice constantly. Being Johnny’s roommate, meant Jaehyun was also privy to all the details of Mark’s love life and he had no problem giving advice to the amusing first year student, which Mark appreciated because going to Johnny meant a clowning session before he could get any useful nuggets of information.

When Mark’s music theory professor randomly assigned the two for the end of semester project, Mark was one part excited and two parts nervous, resulting in a frazzled mess. He has been going up to the second room on the right of the second floor of the frat house almost every other day to ask for advice since then.

Johnny was thrilled when he initially heard of the project, already envisioning his little’s love prospects, stating something along the lines of “my little’s gonna get laid!”

However, now looking at Johnny rubbing his temples in exasperation, Jaehyun can tell that his roommate’s initial enthusiasm has dissipated.

Mark’s daily roadblock today consisted of his crush giving him the cold shoulder and being much more snappy than before in the project meet up earlier. Mark recalls Yeri’s anger toward him and racks his brain for an answer. Even Johnny and Jaehyun are stumped at the sudden behavior, assuming that things were going smoothly from Mark’s previous reports filled with clumsy, but endearing and ultimately positive signs. It’s only when Mark offhandedly mentions her so-called ‘strange’ comment about the temperature, does it become clear why Yeri’s attitude suddenly shifted so drastically.

“I mean, I don’t know what I did wrong.” Mark’s second attempt to defend himself has Johnny flaring his nostrils in indignation and Jaehyun has to turn away in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Dude, she’s so into you. Or, at least she was, I don’t know about it anymore.” Johnny starts after calming down. “She left herself wide open for you to take a clear shot and you effectively said to her face, ‘thanks but no thanks’ and then walked away. No wonder she’s pissed, I’d be pissed too.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do then?” Mark counters.

“Mark,” Johnny begins, his tone dry and coarse, “you’re killing me.”

Jaehyun deems this the perfect time to step in, the laughter about done coursing through his system at this point. He clears his throat before offering his input, “It’s not too, too bad. Johnny’s just being dramatic. If she likes you enough, she’ll probably forgive you if you play your cards right from here on out.”

Mark perks up, his attention solely on Jaehyun.

Jaehyun hums absentmindedly to himself, gathering and organizing his thoughts to properly explain exactly where and how Mark went wrong and what to do moving forward. When Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, Mark is glued on to every word and Jaehyun can see the gears in his brain whirring at high speeds.

By the time Jaehyun is done, Johnny has calmed down and Mark nods his head fervently in understanding.

“Ah, that makes so much sense now! I got it now.”

Despite his assurances, both Johnny and Jaehyun know Mark will be back soon.

“Alright little, listen up,” Johnny starts. “Here’s the game plan from here on out.”

Johnny goes off on a sermon, determined to help his little ‘get some’ as Johnny so delicately puts it. Jaehyun can see it’s not the most tasteful of word choice for Mark to hear, but the youngest says nothing.

Lounging lazily in the bean bag on his side of the room, Jaehyun knocks his head back and thinks of a few weeks back when he accompanied Mark and some other frat members to the rec center for some basketball. Jaehyun remembers Mark was bemoaning the fact he forgot to ask for some girl’s number and it was as if a higher entity heard the boy’s laments and felt especially gracious, because right as they were passing the cafe, Mark stopped in his tracks and suddenly ran off into the busy building.

The group of frat boys watched him excitedly weave his way through the crowd of bodies and occupied tables to reach a table with two girls. When they saw the girl putting her number into Mark’s phone, Johnny elbowed Jaehyun, and like a proud parent Johnny exaggeratedly acknowledged his little. “They grow up so fast, don’t they, Jaehyun.” Johnny even wiped an imaginary tear from his eye to really send the message home.

It was only a few moments later and Mark came bounding out of the cafe, eager to show everyone how lucky it was that he happened to see her. “I mean what are the odds, right?” the said boy exclaimed so happily, his cheer so infectious, Jaehyun couldn’t help himself from letting out a laugh of his own.

Jaehyun turned to give Mark an encouraging pat on the back and it’s when he notices a pair of eyes on him. He turns fully to come in the direct line of sight of a girl whose eyes, Jaehyun imagined to have been very warm, had they not been burning holes into him. Her intense gaze slightly unnerved him, but not to the point of pulling away. He found himself entranced and the only thing that broke the quick spell was Johnny’s voice, calling him to move it along.

Jaehyun recalls easily breaking eye contact and giving little thought to the strange girl with fire for eyes, but as the days passed, Jaehyun couldn’t shake the thought of her from his mind.

Even now in the comfort of his room and with Johnny and Mark not even a foot away, carefully planning Mark’s love endeavors, all Jaehyun’s mind can really focus on is the thought of you.

Jaehyun is sure he’s only looked at you for less than a minute, but somehow he’s able to clearly trace out the image of you that day, like a perfect snapshot.

“Yo Jaehyun,” Johnny calls. “You good? You’ve been spacing out, bro.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jaehyun answers offhandedly, before contemplating to himself. Was he good? Jaehyun wouldn’t necessarily say he’s bad in any way, but it isn’t normal for him to have the thought of a girl remain so clearly engraved in his mind for so long, and even less common for it to actually be a girl he doesn’t even know nonetheless. It’s not a pressing issue, but it does bother him. He weighs over the next steps in his mind.

“Alright, just making sure.”

With one last thought, Jaehyun concludes to himself that it’s time to tackle his concern at hand head-on.

“Actually,” he starts, “Mark, do you remember the girl next to Yeri the day you asked for her number?”

Mark quirks his head in thought and Jaehyun can see Johnny raise his eyebrows in sudden interest.

“Uh kinda,” Mark answers. “I think she’s a CWP major. I’m pretty sure we shared an arranging class last semester, but like, I don’t know her personally or anything; it was a large lecture. To be honest, I don’t even think she recognized me at all, judging from her reaction that day. Why, what’s up?”

Jaehyun nods, absorbing the information, giving Johnny ample time to fire away.

“Yeah Jaehyun,” Jaehyun can visualize the glint in Johnny’s eyes just from hearing his mischievous tone. “What is up? I haven’t seen you ask about a girl in a hot minute. Thought you suddenly went abstinent without telling me or something.”

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure how to reply. Without a doubt you were cute to Jaehyun and he wouldn’t be opposed for things to happen between the two of you, but he doesn’t even know you! Well, not that it’s been a problem for Jaehyun in the past, but your lingering presence bothers him in ways he cannot communicate. Why is that the thought of you won’t leave him and why does it bother him so much?

Jaehyun decides to be straightforward, as straightforward as his muddled brain allows him to be. “She’s cute. I wanna get to know her.”

“Okay, Jaehyun.” Johnny whoops obnoxiously. “I see you.”

Mark is surprised and suddenly Johnny is all fired up again. Abruptly, Johnny shoots up and the determination that burns in his eyes is admirable.

“I’ve got it!” He declares proudly.

Jaehyun and Mark are quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue. They say nothing, knowing there is not a thing that can reach him when Johnny gets like this.

“We’re throwing a party and you bet your ass your two girls are gonna be there.”

4. Heaven by Ailee

walking on Cloud 9.

“When I hear your voice, it feels like I’m dreaming.”

You look up at the two-story house before you and wonder how you got here. Actually, you don’t wonder at all because you know exactly how you ended up at the steps of the local performing arts fraternity at your college, but you sigh regardless, as if someone had weaseled you into being here. Your nerves gnaw at you and you feel your stomach doing all types of aerobic tricks, the feeling reminiscent of the sensation before the roller coaster drops.

Yeri grabs your hand and pulls you excitedly to the front door. You can feel the thrum of music emanating from the building.

You recall how Yeri almost jumped you to tell the good news.

Finals flew by without any major hitches, ignoring sleepless nights and caffeine crashes. You don’t know how you’ll do, but you’re satisfied with your exam performances. You were in the clear and were just waiting for Yeri to present her joint music theory project before the both of you could finally let loose as a celebration to end the school year.

You waited for her outside of the classroom building as promised, playing with your phone to past time until you were suddenly engulfed by a delighted pair of arms. Yeri hugged you tight; she was in high spirits, seemingly from acing her presentation and you hugged her back in congratulations. She pulled at you closer and whispered in your ears, “just say yes.”

You were confused, but looked up to see Mark headed toward the two you. Yeri released you, leaving one arm still slung casually over your shoulder.

“Hey guys. My frat’s throwing a party tonight to celebrate finishing exams. I was wondering if, uh, you guys wanted to come? I mean you don’t have to, it’s totally optional.”

You didn’t say anything at first and Yeri interjected, “Of course!” She smiled at you innocently despite harshly pinching you to respond, her action hidden from Mark’s sight. “We’d love to, right?”

“Uh,” you answered distractedly. “Y-yeah, sure.”

“Great.” Mark beamed. “Party starts at eight. I gotta go help set up, so I’ll see ya there!”

And with that, he left as soon as he arrived and you looked at Yeri questioningly for answers. “I thought we were hitting downtown tonight. What happened to club hopping?”

Yeri smiled devilishly, “change of plans. I’ll tell you more about it later. The most important thing is finding the perfect outfit for you tonight, cause Jaehyun’s gonna be there.”

And so, here you find yourself dressed in high-waisted shorts and a cute top that took an embarrassingly long time to decide on. You are greeted by the fraternity president at the door of the house, Taeyong you think his name is, and he gives you two a quick verbal tour of the place, really emphasizing where to get drinks. Yeri thanks him for the both of you and you enter the crowded house. You think at least half of the performing art majors must’ve been here judging by the sheer volume of packed bodies.

You remember Yeri explaining how she and Mark may have been making a breakthrough and this party was imperative for its success. You were completely okay attending for that reason alone, because after all, what kind of person sends her best friend to a frat party alone? However, your resolve to go was set in stone after she explained that the frat that was throwing the party just happened to be the same frat Jaehyun was a member of.

“And y’know, seeing as how you’ve been obsessing over him the past few weeks, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You frown remembering her words and make your way to the kitchen with Yeri in tow. Various beverages, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, crowd the table and you recognize the guy standing nearby idly chatting with others. It’s Jaemin, an acting major in your history lecture with whom you frequently exchange notes with when either one of you decides to flake for the day. You vaguely recall him mentioning his fraternity association, but didn’t realize it happened to be this one. He sees the two of you approaching the drink table and he smiles widely.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” Jaemin greets casually. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How’d you think you did in the history final?”

You groan. “I don’t even want to talk about it. What’s important is that we’re finished and I won’t ever have to think about the WWII timeline for, hopefully, forever.”

“Amen,” Jaemin laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” He raises up his red solo cup to cheers, before realizing both you and Yeri had nothing to drink.

“Oh shit, I’m a pretty bad host, huh? First thing I should've done was get you two something to drink.” He chides himself, but his tone is playful. “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Before you can think about what you want, Yeri cuts you off, her tone matching Jaemin’s. “How about some shots to start off and we’ll forgive the lack of hospitality.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Alright, I like it.” His hands are adept at weaving around the table and finding the paper shot cups and the vodka. “Svedka’s okay, right?”

“We’re not picky.” You and Yeri agree. You take the shot in one gulp and the unpleasant burning in your throat makes you wince.

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think another shot and then a mixed drink. Anything’s fine, but preferably on the stronger side.” You look over at Yeri and she nods in agreement.

“Coming right up.” Jaemin agrees easily.

He pours the two of you another shot and you think he must be a generous guy because the shot is overflowing. You and Yeri cheer once more while Jaemin gets to work mixing a cherry bourbon with some Coke. He tops off the drinks with some ice before handing it over to the both of you. “Here they are. Enjoy, ladies.”

You thank him and take a sip before excusing yourself to make your way around the party. The drink is sweet and the smoky aftertaste of the bourbon gives it a pleasant edge. You and Yeri are attached to the hip as you drift from one part to another around the party, making easy going small talk along the way. You are sufficiently buzzed by this point and feel much lighter as though the party was somehow two degrees removed from your senses. You look over to check on Yeri and she’s noticeably drunker than you are, giggling about the simplest of things and slurring her words just the slightest bit. You make a mental note to ease the drinking, wanting to be sober enough to look after her in case anything were to arise.

The two of you are at the base of the stairs when you hear Mark’s voice calling Yeri’s name. You turn your attention upward to see him ambling down the stairs with excited fervor. His cheeks are flushed, more so than usual around Yeri, and you can tell it’s due to alcohol because Mark is holding her hands and you know he can never be so bold without the help of liquid courage.

“Yo Mark, slow down there.” A voice calls out and you look up again and you feel your breath caught in your throat.

There in front of your eyes is Jung Jaehyun in the flesh. He looks heavenly dressed in simple jeans and a white tee. You unconsciously swallow the lump in your throat and your heart beat gallops a mile a minute in your chest. Your mouth goes dry and you mindlessly gulp down swigs of your drink. You know Yeri would’ve sniggered at your current state had she not been so tipsy and completely preoccupied with Mark.

Jaehyun catches up to Mark and when he reaches the base of the stairs, he notices the two of you.

“Oh Jaehyun, lemme introduce you guys.”

As promised, Mark introduces everyone quickly and Jaehyun shoots a smile that seems to be aimed at you. “Nice to meet everyone.”

“Cool, now that everyone knows each other,” Mark starts. “Yeri, can I show you something?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

You give Yeri a hard look and she takes your hand to squeeze it in reassurance. She looks at you pleadingly and there’s a confidence in her eyes that you can’t argue with. You relent and let her go.

Mark takes her by the hand and leads her up the stairs while you watch, slightly worried.

Jaehyun seems to have sensed your apprehension because the words that leave his mouth snaps you out of your perturbed state. “Don’t worry. Mark’s a good kid, you have nothing to worry about. You have my word on it.”

And suddenly the situation dawns on you. The boy of your recent all-consuming infatuation stands here before you, and it’s just the two of you alone. Any social skills you have, leave you and you’re unsure of what to do.

Jaehyun notices the awkward tension in the air and works quickly to dispel it. “Your drink’s looking low. Can I get you something else?”

You look down to your drink to see that he was right. Only a few sips remain. You didn’t realize you had drank so much at the sight of Jaehyun.

“Um, some water would be good. I don’t want to be too hungover tomorrow.” You answer shyly. You also need to be sober enough to look after Yeri, but you decide to leave that out.

Jaehyun chuckles, “sure thing. Here, come with me. I’ll get you some water.”

Jaehyun leads you to the kitchen with ease, seamlessly weaving through the crowds of people. Every group of people he passes greets him loudly to be heard of the pounding bass of the music. You are not surprised to see how popular he is.

Once in the kitchen, he grabs you a bottle of water and a beer for himself from the fridge and you thank him. The cold water is refreshing, but it does little to cool your nerves. The awkward tension is high and still ever present. You feel as though you’re drowning in it and you also feel like running away from here despite this being what you’ve wanted for more than anything for weeks on end.

“So,” Jaehyun starts, clearing his throat. “Mark told me you’re a CWP major?”

“Uh, y-yeah, actually.” You hate how you’re so flustered around him. “How’d he know? Did Yeri tell him or something?”

“He said you guys shared an arranging class last semester.” Jaehyun recalls.

“Wait, really? I had no idea.” You start going off on how you could’ve missed such a thing and Jaehyun smiles. You’re much more comfortable when a rhythm has been established and the words flow out of you easily. You’re not as relaxed as where Jaehyun wants you to be, but he thinks it’s a good start.

You continue with small talk from there, much less uptight than before and you feel glad. Jaehyun is as radiant in person as he is in your imagination. You find him to be very kind and your heart flutters even more. Jaehyun mentions he’s a musical theatre major and you do your best to act surprised despite it being one of the only things you know about him prior to this moment.

Before he gets a chance to tell you more about himself, a tall boy with long limbs calls out to Jaehyun that it’s his turn to join the next game of beer pong. Jaehyun looks reluctant to leave and you don’t want him to leave either, but you’d hate to hold him back from prior engagements.

“Would you,” Jaehyun licks his lips in consideration, “like to play with me? I don’t have a partner.”

You nod your head and readily agree, eager to spend more time with him.

You’ve only played beer pong a handful of times and being around Jaehyun makes you nervous, so you miss the first few shots. You feel embarrassed, but Jaehyun is patient and assures you that it’s no problem at all. His little words of encouragement mixed with the beer you drink helps melt your tension, and halfway through the game, you’re whooping and hollering with everyone watching the game.

You high-five Jaehyun without a second thought after nailing a perfect shot and Jaehyun smiles even wider. The two of you are leading when Taeyong comes in to kick everyone out.

“Sorry guys, party’s over.”

Groans of complaints could be heard throughout the crowd, but Taeyong’s words are firm and he ushers everyone to leave. He has a few other frat members behind him helping out. He reaches the beer pong table and pulls Jaehyun aside. After a few exchanged words, Jaehyun nods in agreement and ends the game completely, apologizing to his opponents.

You’re confused, so you carefully ask Jaehyun what’s going on. He sees you and his gaze softens, he quietly explains, “apparently, the campus police have received multiple noise complaints and since the fraternity already has a strike, Taeyong doesn’t really want to risk another. “

“Ah, I see.” You nod. You’re saddened by the turn of events, having finally eased into a relative comfort around Jaehyun and you yearn for more. “Well, I better go look for Yeri then.”

This is a goodbye and you’re unsure of what else to say to him, your disappointment mixes with alcohol making you feel even more miserable. You want to ask for more, but can’t find the words to reach him. Luckily, Jaehyun does it for you.

“Are you free sometime this week?” He asks. “I feel like we didn’t get a chance to really talk and I’d like to.”

Your heart hammers and the blood rushes in your ears, but you still find yourself uttering a mousy agreement.

“Great,” his smile is dazzling and you feel dizzy. “It’s a date then.”

5. 24 Hours by Sunmi

rushed minutes.

“Time goes by so quickly.”

“Hey,” a distant voice calls out and Jaehyun looks up from his phone to see your approaching figure. Your cheeks are rosy from the summer sun and stray pieces of your hair escape from your loosely styled updo. Jaehyun takes all of you in with careful appreciation.

“Hey yourself.” Jaehyun chuckles, slipping his phone casually in his pocket and standing up straighter to greet you properly.

Jaehyun sees the red of your face flush brighter, the soft color bleeding across your cheeks and onto your nose. Cute, he thinks. He watches as you tighten your grip on your clutch, knuckles white with nervous tension, in an attempt to gather your composure and calm your nerves. You clear your throat, “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon. You should’ve texted me.”

“It’s all good, I finished early.” Jaehyun notices you no longer stutter around him like the first night you two met. He’s glad the days and nights of sober texting after exchanging numbers at the party did wonders to make you feel comfortable around him. He’s not too worried about your current ‘first-date’ anxiety, knowing it’ll be dispelled soon enough. “Shall we?” He moves to open the door and the cool rush of air from the cafe greets the two of you.

The cafe is quaint and cozy, tucked away in a small corner of intersecting back streets and crowded buildings. Jaehyun discovered the little spot not too long ago and something, Jaehyun assumes his instincts, compelled him to take you to it for the first official date. It just felt right.

The two of you walk to the order counter and you take it all in. You can hear the quiet chatter of the cafe occupants mixed with the rattle of espresso machines being put to work. Your eyes scan over the decorations and several potted succulents hanging from the ceiling. It’s incredibly homey and you feel at ease.

“Hiya, I can help the two of you whenever you guys are ready.” The barista is cheerful to a fault and Jaehyun watches you shoot her a grateful smile before your eyes move to the menu to decide on what to get.

Jaehyun knows what he wants, so he waits patiently for you to decide, but seeing your eyebrows scrunch together in indecision, Jaehyun chuckles to himself. “I hear the iced lattes here are really good, particularly the caramel latte,” he offers.

You perk up in surprise, but you recover quickly, “okay, that sounds good then. I was between that and the iced cocoa.”

“No problem, I’ll order then. Today’s on me.” Jaehyun says.

Jaehyun walks up to the barista and quickly places the order. He reaches for his wallet after the barista recites the order, but he falters slightly when he sees your gaze glued to the cake display, particularly the crepe cake.

“Can I get a slice of the chocolate crepe cake over there too?”

“Of course! Here’s your new total,” she turns the touch screen display over to Jaehyun and he readily inserts his card to pay. When finished, Jaehyun turns back the screen and after a few taps from the barista, a receipt is printed and she hands him a buzzer.

“Your order will be out shortly.” She informs him.

Jaehyun smiles and says a small ‘thank you’ in return before turning his attention to you. You look up to meet his eyes and you smile, “can we sit over there by the window?”

You head to the little corner table first with Jaehyun steadily in tow. You sit at the chair that leaves your back to the window and Jaehyun is mesmerized by how the afternoon sunlight refracts through your silhouette. You’re glowing and Jaehyun swallows thickly.

“So,” he starts. “What have you been up to?”

“Celebrating finishing my first year of college in one piece.” You laugh lightly. “I got by with passable grades, but other than that Yeri and I just finished moving into our new dorms. We’re no longer freshmen, so first year dorms are off limits. I’m gonna miss the convenient location.” You jokingly mope.

Jaehyun laughs easily with you and before he gets a chance to reply, the buzzer goes off so he excuses himself to go pick up the order.

A different barista places down a tray with your two drinks and a small slice of cheesecake with two dessert forks resting on some napkins. “Enjoy your order!”

Jaehyun smiles in thanks and picks up the tray to bring it back to the table. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the mille crepe cake and true to his expectations, your eyes light up at the sight of dessert.

“Surprise.” He says. “I saw you looking at it earlier.”

Jaehyun watches as you immediately grab a small fork and try a piece of the cake with unrestricted child-like excitement. Your eyes light up at the taste of the delicate layers of fresh whipped cream and thin crepes and the smile you shoot in his direction has Jaehyun’s heart beating a little faster than he’s willing to admit.

“Thank you!” You look up at him. “It’s so good, you should definitely try a bite too.”

“Yeah? I’ll try some then.” Jaehyun sits down and leans even closer to you over the table, his mouth open and expectant and his eyes staring straight into yours.

You try your best to bite back the scarlet fighting to stain your cheeks as you cinch off a small section of the cake with your fork. Your hand falters just the slightest bit when delivering the small confection to his awaiting mouth, but you push through and feed him despite the embarrassment you feel.

Jaehyun chews slowly and deliberately, taking his time to lick the stray whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. You lose the game of chicken, breaking eye contact first.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s good. We should definitely come back.”

You let out a little awkward cough, desperate to ward off your cloud of emotions. “Uhm, yeah sure.”

Jaehyun has always thought you were cute, but he thinks you’re especially cute today.

“Anyway,” you start. You want to change the topic because you don’t think you can survive this tension without your brain frying. “I feel like I’ve just seen you around recently. I should’ve run into you a long time ago since the performing arts college is so small.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun is a little taken aback. “I used to be over at the East Campus. I was a business and administration major for two years before I switched over to musical theatre.”

“Wait really?” Your surprise erases any tension you felt earlier. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It doesn’t really come up in conversation.”

“Why’d you switch over? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Jaehyun contemplates his reply for a second as takes a sip of his coffee. “Well, when I entered college, I didn’t really know what I wanted, so I just followed whatever my parents wanted me to do. I actually knew I liked musical theatre for the longest time, but it took time for me to build up the courage to switch. My parents weren’t happy with it at first and we fought for the longest time, but I think they’ve warmed up to it enough by now. I’ve never really talked about this though, I just tell people I transferred from a different college and the conversation just ends there I guess, but it’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you for telling me this, Jaehyun.” Your voice is sincere and Jaehyun believes you.

“What about you, hm?” Jaehyun returns. “Why CWP?”

“I don’t really have one point that changed my life and helped me find my calling or whatever,” you ponder with a tilt of the head and the taste of cream dissolving in your mouth. “But ever since I was little, I always knew I was gonna end up doing something in music. I was never good at singing though, so vocal performance was out the door and I wasn’t that interested in classical instruments either, so that helped me narrow stuff down. Actually, what really helped me decide was during orientation, my group leader was a contemporary writing and production major and she told me all about it and I’ve been sold ever since. I really like it though, and have no intention of switching.”

“That’s good. Sometimes I wish I switched earlier.” Jaehyun muses. “I feel so behind sometimes. Most people in my class have already been in at least one musical and an internship, except for me. I think about it a lot, but I try not to let it get me so down.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way!” You try your best to cheer him up, and Jaehyun appreciates it a lot more than he thought he would. “Everyone has their own pace, that’s what college is all about! Nothing is ever wasted time. You can think of your time as a business admin major as a way to help you make up your mind on your true passion. You told me you’ve always liked musical theatre, but I’ve bet without the time in business, you would’ve never known you liked it enough to pursue a career out of it.”

Jaehyun laughs at your earnesty. He thinks you’re a touch naive, but your words make him feel light. “You’re right. I can say for sure I wasn’t happy as a business major.”

“See? Nothing is ever wasted time if you can discover your true happiness out of it.”

The two of you exchange easy chatter after that and between small bites of cake and sips of coffee, Jaehyun thinks you’ve become prettier and prettier.

“What was it like?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Hm? What was ‘what’ like?”

“Being a business and administration major.”

Jaehyun has to think about it. He recalls constantly dressing up for group presentations and boring lectures, but his mind wanders to his activities outside the classroom. He remembers the constant partying and the blur of faces that helped him keep his bed warm. He remembers brief flings and relationships cut short. He doesn’t want to think about those things when he’s next to you. “Uhm. It was okay, nothing special, but that reminds me–”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why, what’s up?”

“Great,” Jaehyun smiles while taking the last sip of his coffee. “I’m having a housewarming party at my new apartment. You should definitely be there.”

The day of the long awaited housewarming party rolls up sooner than expected between settling into your new dorm with Yeri and the occasional small ‘get-togethers’ with Jaehyun. They’re actually dates if you're being honest, but you don’t want to put a title on anything in case he wasn’t on the same page as you. Being with Jaehyun made you giddy in more ways than one, but that means the anxiety that pools at the base of your stomach grows larger each day when the relationship between the two of you goes unnamed. You feel greedy when you desperately grasp at the shred of time you share with him, always unwillingly to let go.

“Are you ready?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your small reverie. Her hand is poised, ready to knock on the black door of Jaehyun’s apartment, waiting for you to gather your composure. Yeri is dressed to the nines in a cute skirt with a top to match. She wants to look good for her new boyfriend and you teased her endlessly for it when the two of you were getting ready.

“Mark’s one lucky guy.”

“Shut up. Worry about yourself.”

“All I do is love you, yet you’re so mean to me.”

Regardless of her harsh words toward you, she helped you toss your closet inside and out for the perfect outfit to woo Jaehyun, even if it meant showing up late to the party.

The two of you leave your dorm twenty minutes later than you intended and it also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s apartment was difficult to find, tucked away in a small building between towering skyscrapers, but now is finally the moment of truth.

“Yeah, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you mutter as you watch Yeri knock on the door.

It takes a minute before the door creaks open and Jaehyun’s head pops out. His smile is radiant and you’re absolutely ensnared by the way his fringe falls over his forehead.

“Hey, glad you two could make it.” Jaehyun opens the door wider to allow you and Yeri to enter. He greets Yeri with polite warmth while he wraps an arm over your shoulders. When Yeri heads in the apartment first with her back against the two of you, Jaehyun steals a quick peck to your temple and whispers, “you look pretty tonight.”

His touch is fleeting and he pulls back quickly, as if you imagined the whole thing, but his cheeky smile tells you that it really did happen. Your heart hammers and you force yourself to focus on the steady thrum of mellow R&B that reverberates throughout his apartment to calm yourself. You take his apartment in steady strides with your full attention. It’s sleek and modern with a few pops of his personality here and there in the form of trinkets decoration choices.

“Hey!” Johnny calls over from the couch. He has a beer in hand, but he’s far from tipsy. Flanked on one side is Doyoung with another beer to match and on the other is Sicheng. Seulgi, the girl, who you assume is Sicheng’s significant other, by the way his arm is casually wrapped around her waist, is also there and she nods at you in greeting. You've come to know about all of them after hanging out with Jaehyun so much. “Did you guys get lost or something?”

“Yeah,” Yeri replies as she moves to sit next to Mark who’s on the adjacent loveseat and resting a drink on the coffee table. “Something like that.”

She places a sweet kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth in greeting and you swear you can hear him crooning at the attention.

“Doesn’t matter, Johnny. The important thing is that they’re here now.” Jaehyun interjects. “Do you guys want anything to drink?”

“That’d be nice.” You hum.

Yeri laughs in agreement, “yeah, the two of us could never say no to a drink.”

“Alright, I’m on it.” Jaehyun calls while moving to the kitchen. “Any preferences?”

“No,” you say. “Surprise us.”

Jaehyun works to mix drinks and you take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table to observe the party. Perched on the shelf of a slender bookcase in the corner of his living room is a bluetooth speaker playing music, the rhythm quiet and bass steady as everyone chatters away once introductions are made on the sofas. You remember him offhandedly mentioning that he doesn’t want any noise complaints on his first week in the new place and it makes sense. Jaehyun’s housewarming party is a quiet affair that is far different from the wild party at the frat house in which you met him, but you think this vibe fits Jaehyun more.

Jaehyun returns shortly with two drinks in tow for you and Yeri and sits himself snugly next to you on the floor. He picks his idle beer from the coffee table and once Johnny realizes that everyone in the proximity has a drink in hand, he raises his voice and beer in a toast. “It sucks that Taeyong couldn’t make it tonight, but here’s to having fun without him. We’re gonna get twice as fucked up to make up for his absence, cheers!”

Everyone lets out a chuckle, but obliges to humor him anyway and joins to connect their drink to his in cheers.

You pull your cup back and take a big gulp of the drink. It’s sweet and carbonated, but the sting of alcohol at your throat leaves you wincing just the slightest bit.

A few pleasantries are exchanged here and there, but it’s only then does Doyoung pull out a deck of cards with a devilish glint in his eyes that deceive his looks.

“Ring of fire, anyone?”

After who knows how many rounds of ring of fire (and maybe a few other drinking games here and there) with too many drink refills for you to remember, you somehow find yourself splayed on the couch and leaning over Yeri’s shoulder in support. Seulgi is on the other side of you leaning on you for support, the same way you’re doing to Yeri, but you don’t mind it one bit. The three of you have grown surprisingly close with one another throughout the night.

Your mind is lucid enough to still be conscious and completely aware of where you are and what you’re doing, but the alcohol in your system eats away at the details in your memory.

You vaguely recall ridiculous punishments that involved Johnny twerking on the dining room table and Mark taking a shot of Jack Daniels mixed with ketchup, and you can’t help but snicker to yourself.

“I think we should get going now.” Sicheng is the first to speak as he moves to help Seulgi up. “It’s getting late.”

Doyoung looks a little groggy, but when he checks the time, he perks up immediately, “oh shit, you’re right. I need to get going too, I’ve got something in the morning.”

With that everyone shuffles to clean the remnants of the party with as much grace as they can muster while intoxicated, which wasn’t much, but in twenty minutes, Jaehyun is already walking half the party to the door in goodbye. Only you, Mark, and Yeri are left.

“Hey Yeri,” Mark calls softly to Yeri as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Are you ready to go too?”

Yeri is still sprawled on the couch with you, but mumbles a small response. “Yeah, I should be. Give me a second.”

She turns over to you and nudges you just the slightest bit. “I’m gonna go back to Mark’s tonight, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her. “I’ll be fine, just go have fun.”

“She’s free to rest here until she’s ready to leave, don’t worry. I’ll call a cab for her when the time comes.” Jaehyun pipes up.

Yeri gives you a look, but you squeeze her hand one last time to give her some peace of mind. “I’m a big girl, Yeri. I’ll be okay, promise. I’ll walk you to the door, Mark’s waiting.”

You give Yeri a tight hug in goodbye and you find your way back to the couch. The fact that you’re all alone in Jaehyun’s apartment doesn’t hit because of the remnants of alcohol in your system melts away your nerves.

You’re pleasantly buzzed, lost in your own thoughts when Jaehyun comes up to you with a glass of water in hand. “Here, so you don’t feel as bad tomorrow morning.”

You accept it gratefully and take in big gulps, the water refreshing, but your skin feels hot.

Jaehyun takes a seat next to you and the proximity makes your head spin. You turn to look at him, and he flashes you a smile.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You might’ve mentioned something.” You tease. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well,” he hums. You’re not sure, but you think the distance between the two of you is decreasing. “You really do look stunning tonight.”

You flush at his words, but you look straight into his eyes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Yeah? I try to impress.” Jaehyun’s eyes are hooded and your throat goes dry. “Can I kiss you?”

You say nothing at first, his words not registering into your muddled brain, but when you feel his breath ghost over your lips, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can taste the vodka on his breath, but to you it’s perfect. Jaehyun’s perfect.

Jaehyun kisses you with reserved passion and practiced expertise. His tongue sets the rhythm against yours and his roaming hands have you feeling as if you’ve been set ablaze. He pulls back just the tiniest bit and the intense longing for his touch that hits you is indescribable.

You pull him back in your arms and your lips reconnect in a desperate fervor. Jaehyun adjusts his arms around you and the next you know, you’re in his embrace and he’s carrying you to his bedroom. He places you down gently, his bed is plush and comforter soft.

Jaehyun’s touch is gentle as he gathers your face in his hands. He kisses you again and you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him closer. He pulls back and looks at you earnestly. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Everything’s moving so fast and you’re dizzy, but you don’t want whatever this is to stop. You want to be as close to Jaehyun as possible.

“No,” your voice is hoarse. “Don’t stop. I want you, Jaehyun.”

He kisses you again, this time unrestrained. His tongue is hot, but you can only savor it for a minute before he starts trailing kisses down your neck and tugging at your shirt. You let out a breathy moan in response to how his touches make you feel.

Jaehyun reaches at your shorts and makes quick work at unbuttoning them. You help him remove the article of clothing and his slender fingers dart inside your panties. You’re slick to the touch and Jaehyun must be made of magic because you think you’re seeing stars. You unravel before him embarrassingly quick, but he kisses you at the base of your clavicle in sweet reassurance.

Your chest is heaving, but you want more. You grab at Jaehyun’s shirt, urging him to take it off. The expanse of his abdomen is a sight to behold, but Jaehyun is cruel and doesn’t give you the time to take it in. He’s on top of you again, lips crashing onto yours once more. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and while he’s pre-occupied, you unbuckle his belt and steal a moment in his boxers. He feels thick and hot in your hands as you run your finger over the tip to feel a drop of pre-cum. He buckles just the slightest bit and it emboldens you.

Jaehyun helps himself out of his jeans and you push him onto the bed wanting to be on top this time. He’s straining against his boxers and you want to help relieve the tension. When you pull off his boxers you can feel his inaudible groan. You stroke his length gingerly and look up to see him with hooded eyes look right back at you.

This excites you so you take him in your mouth in a moment of unfiltered courage. Your tongue starts at the base before tracing your way up to his sensitive head. You tease him accordingly to his quiet grunts and groans and when you feel like he’s had enough, you take all of him in until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. You gag a bit, but push through.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun stutters out between stacatoed breaths. “Babe, you’re so good.”

You hum in pleasure at his praise and he grabs your hair. This goes on for a few more minutes before he reaches down to stop you. “Not that I don’t love this,” the look in your eyes nearly has him faltering his words, “but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

You relent with a slick pop and Jaehyun shifts over to rummage for a condom in his nightstand. You settle back down in his pillows. Jaehyun gives you a soft kiss on the lips before he enters you.

“Tell me when it’s okay to move,” he whispers and you place a small kiss at the base of his neck.

He starts off slow to let you acclimate to his size, but neither of you are very patient, so he ends up pounding into you a lot sooner than he anticipated and you find yourself getting caught up in the pleasure.

It feels like you’re dreaming, but if this was a dream, you never want to wake up.

6. Hush by Miss A

shh, no talking, just us.

“I can’t think straight.”

You and Jaehyun don’t become official until a few weeks later.

He asks you one day when you’re naked and out of breath. You’ve gone one too many rounds with him and a thin layer of sweat coats your body as you lay on his heaving chest. You absentmindedly draw shapes on his skin and he gives you a chaste kiss to your temple.

“We should date.” He hums. “I think I’d make a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” You raise your eyebrow in teasing.

“Yeah,” he ascertains. “Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think it over as if this wasn’t you’ve been hoping for since the first moment you laid eyes on him. “Okay. Let’s give it a try, boyfriend.”

Jaehyun laughs and you feel the world fall into its right place. “Alright, girlfriend.”

And the rest is history as they say.

Jaehyun isn’t your first, but you experience many firsts with him. You’re not exactly inexperienced, but he really opens your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans into your neck. His hands grip at your hips to help guide you along, but you’re fully in charge. “You’re doing so good, babe. Just like that.”

You didn’t see yourself as someone who liked to take charge during sex, but after that one time Jaehyun asked you to top, you’ve never looked back since.

You roll hips into him and at a pace you know drives Jaehyun wild and you pull him into a sloppy kiss. It’s all tongue and no grace, but you love it the same regardless. You capture his bottom lips between your teeth playfully before pushing him flat on his back until he’s firm against his plush mattress. You place a hand on his chest and the other on his thigh to balance yourself and Jaehyun immediately knows you’re close.

A hand rests on your hip to steady you while the other snakes over to play with your clit to further stimulate you toward your climax. Jaehyun knows what you like and his timing is impeccable, so before you know it, both of you are reaching your highs together. You collapse on his chest and you allow yourself to stay in his warmth long enough to have your breaths synchronize before you extricate yourself from him to head to his bathroom.

When you come back out, he’s disposed of the used condom and opens your arm wide for a hug, which you gladly indulge in.

Time stops when you’re in his arms.

On the surface, it looks like Jaehyun likes to mix it up. He seems like an elusive guy with varied tastes, but the more time you spend with him, you realize he likes the control of seeing you unravel before him.

He likes the intimacy of missionary.

The close proximity to your body has him looking into your eyes and leaving you feeling the most vulnerable of ways. He has full access to your neck, which he lovingly claims as his own and you chide him the next day when you see scattered purple blooms. Jaehyun changes his pace on a whim and you fall to his mercy. When he takes you fast and hard, you see stars, but when thrusts in you with languid leisure, he has you begging for more.

He likes the intensity of taking from behind.

When you’re on your knees with your ass in the air, he takes it as a guarantee to fuck you senseless. Your muffled moans makes his dick twitch and you swear you can feel him fuck into you even faster. Jaehyun always makes sure to wrap his arms around you to finger your clit until you go into sensory overload and he doesn’t stop pounding into you until there are tears in your eyes. He kisses each one away before taking your lips in his and you can taste the salt water on his tongue.

He likes the dominance from eating you out.

He laps at your core like a starved man and makes good use of his adept fingers until your head is spinning. Jaehyun makes it a habit to eat you out until you’re satisfied before he gets his turn. When your thighs are on either side of his head and your hands tangled in his hair, he swears he can stay there forever.

Above all, Jaehyun just likes you. He likes being with you and he definitely likes fucking you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mmmh,” you breathe out.

Your back is flush against Jaehyun’s back as you rock your hips back and forth on his dick. You grind your ass back even harder when he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

He kisses your shoulder blade from behind and bucks his hip upward to meet you in the middle.

The afternoon sunlight is streaming in from the gaps of his blinds and you want to take it nice and slow today. The television in front of you is playing a movie, but you’re too enraptured by the feeling of him filling you to the brim to pay it any mind.

“I love it when you’re on top, babe.” he hums as he plays with your clit.

You let out another breathy groan before you can find the composure to bite back at him. “What happened to no sex today, hmm? I thought we were just going to have innocent quality time together and watch a movie.”

Jaehyun must’ve not liked your sass, so he bucks up harder. He’s telling you to pick up the pace and you oblige. Before you know, you’re practically bouncing on his dick and you can feel your impending high about to crash down on you. He can sense it too and maintains his tempo. When you cum, Jaehyun rides on the tail of your climax in pursuit of his own. He cums shortly after with stuttering hips and a bite on your shoulder. He gathers you in his arms and runs his tongue soothingly over where he bit you and the various love bites that he’s littered on the expanse of your skin.

“Just being with you is quality time in itself.” He says. “Besides, class is starting soon, so I won’t get to see you as much.��

7. Disturbance by BoA

a ripple on the surface.

“I didn’t know at first.”

“So I do have a roommate after all,” Yeri’s voice calls out and you turn over to see her standing by the doorway. You roll your eyes at her, but quickly turn back to gather your things.

She lets out a chuckle, but you don’t miss the sour edge to her tone. “I thought I got a single dorm since it’s so empty all the time.”

“You say that, Yeri,” you retort. “But I know you’re over at Mark’s constantly so I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“Yeah, but I make time to come back here and I always let you know when I’m going out. I feel like I’ve only seen you maybe once or twice the past few months. I feel like the only reason I see you these days is ‘cause of classes.”

“You’re just exaggerating, don’t be so dramatic. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

She looks displeased, but nothing leaves her lips as the two of you head out for the day.

It’s late.

When night falls, shadows come out to play and your college campus is riddled with them. The school auditorium is situated in the far corner of the campus and the lamp lights of the main walkways do little, but you pay it little mind. Jaehyun should be getting out soon.

It takes another ten minutes to see him emerge from the double doors and you perk up immediately at the sight of him. He looks a little shocked to see you, but greets you with a warm hug and small peck regardless.

“Hey,” his voice is small, almost reserved. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I was finishing late tonight.”

“Oh, you did, but I still wanted to see you.” You explain, eyes bright and tone undeterred.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he licks his lip. “But it’s really late and I still have more stuff I need to work on. I’ll see you some other time, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. Next time.”

“Oh hey,” you smile, but Yeri’s fury is palpable and cuts through you.

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me.” She spits out. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Sheepish, you reply, “oh sorry. I forgot to fully charge it before leaving and Jaehyun and I have different phones, so I couldn’t charge it at his place.”

“You were at Jaehyun’s?” Yeri is glaring at you at this point and you feel a bit peeved.

“Yeah. What of it?”

Yeri’s been getting angry at you recently, losing her temper at the drop of a hat, and you can’t seem to pinpoint why. You’re getting tired of being her punching bag.

“We made plans to go shop for Seulgi’s gift today. You promised you’d be there, don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit.” It completely slips from your mind and you open your mouth to apologize, but Yeri cuts you off before you get the chance.

“Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Yeri turns to leave before you can say anything back.

8. Symptoms by SHINee

something’s wrong.

“The worse it gets, the more exhausted I get.”

Jaehyun feels off.

He can’t pinpoint exactly what he is that he’s feeling, but he thinks it’s reminiscent of his world being tilted by six degrees. It’s not immediately jarring and takes little time for his eyes to register, but he’ll occasionally bump his toe, signalling that this isn’t right. Things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. His head spins just the slightest bit and he feels woozy, but he doesn’t know why.

Jaehyun just feels off.

Jaehyun checks the bulletin board of his school auditorium almost religiously.

Each time before and after class, he’ll swing by and peruse the flyers that hang from haphazardly stuck on pins. He ignores the tutoring offers and the part time jobs scams, his main focus is almost always on the center of the board where they post the upcoming musical theatre production and eventually, the cast list.

This semester, the chosen production is La La Land and Jaehyun has been dead set on landing the role of Sebastian Wilder. He stays back extra late each day to practice the script and to work on his singing and annunciation.

On the day of the audition, he’s sure he’s nailed it and thinks to himself the world must be ending if he weren’t to get the leading role.

When he leaves the auditorium in a rush, excitement flows through his veins and he drinks in the night air as a toast of victory. He’s tipsy on his excitement and wants to laugh out loud, but in the corner of his vision, he sees you. Your eyes light up the sight up, outshining the moon and the stars, but your visage does not elicit the reaction he thinks it should. He expects his heart to swell and burst, but somehow he feels heavy.

He pulls you in for a hug and a quick kiss to quell his weighted heart, but he thinks he’s starting to sink so he calls you off for the night. He’ll see you next time.

Yeah, next time will be better.

You’re snuggled up close and personal on Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun notices you fill every nook and cranny of his being perfectly to a tee, and yet that feeling. It’s there again.

Jaehyun feels off.

You laugh at something one of the characters say and you cuddle harder into him. He feels heavy again and it makes his throat itch, so he swoops down and captures your lips.

It’s hard and fast to scrub away at his uneasiness and before he knows it, his clothes are missing, but so are yours. The foreplay is brief and almost impersonal, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to be inside you.

When Jaehyun has you begging and writhing, he feels like the world is where it should be. No longer is he living at a slight angle when he’s buried to the hilt inside your warmth, so when he sees you, he does what he can to get you out of your pants.

Today is no different from any other.

After a satisfying session you roll on his chest. Your kiss is soft and sweet despite the sweat that covers both of your bodies. He hums quietly as he taps melodies on along your exposed spine.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

Ah. Jaehyun thinks he’s getting it now, why he’s feeling off.

Jaehyun thinks he’s being suffocated.

To the surprise of no one, and especially not to him, Jaehyun gets the leading role of Sebastian Wilder in La La Land. He was a shoe-in for it anyway and he made sure to put in the work to get it.

His leading lady is someone by the name of Park Sooyoung, but at the first rehearsal she introduces herself as Joy.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She offers her hand out in a friendly greeting. “Here’s to a successful show together, Jaehyun.”

Her smile is blinding and he thinks Joy is a fitting name. He grasps her outstretched hand, grip firm and sure.

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Here’s to a good show together.”

Rehearsals span over blurred minutes and long hours.

Jaehyun sees less and less of you and spends more and more time with her.

During a quick water break, he scans his phone briefly to see a text notification from you. He takes another swig of water and returns to the rehearsal.

It’s okay, he can always text you back later.

9. Before U Go - TVXQ!

letting go.

“I will leave now.”

“Come on!” You tug both Mark and Yeri along excitedly. “I want to get good seats.”

Yeri rolls her eyes, but obliges anyway, pulling Mark along. It’s opening night for Jaehyun’s big musical and you wanted to be there no matter what to support him. Johnny, Doyoung, Taeyong, Sicheng, and Seulgi are already inside waiting and you’re not sure if they were able to save the three of you a spot.

After a long chat with Yeri, you apologized profusely to her. You did get blinded by your relationship with him and prioritized him over everything, forgetting your friends and other responsibilities in the process. Yeri forgave you easily and helped keep you in line when you went to head over heels for Jaehyun.

However, after patching things up with Yeri, you begin to notice a shift in your relationship with Jaehyun’s. You’re not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost feels like a distance almost.

You chalk it up to his busy rehearsal schedule and choose not to dwell on the topic, in fears of your wandering imagination. It should be fine. After his musical is over, he’ll be less busy and things will fall back into place.

Right?

“Over here!” Seulgi waves over excitedly.

The auditorium is starting to fill up and you want to get comfortable before the show starts.

Everyone greets each other in hushed tones and soon enough, the show starts.

Right. Everything will be fine.

Jaehyun does amazing.

Your eyes are trained on him the whole time and his singing has goosebumps pricking your skin. You can see the passion pour through him every time he’s on stage and you couldn’t be more proud.

A nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach points out the undeniable chemistry between him and his co-star, but you push it deep down and suppress it.

They’re actors, and they’re good at what they do.

Yeah. They’re just acting. Yeah. Acting.

When the curtains close, you’re the first to shoot out of your seat, eager to meet him backstage. You weave through the endless crowd of people, murmuring your ‘sorry’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ as you pass by. You reach the base of the backstage and shoot a message to let him know you’re waiting. You hum to yourself when you happen to overhear a conversation playing out.

“You did so good, Jae.”

“No, you definitely carried the show.”

You turn up and you see them. Her eyes are almost soft and loving as she pulls your boyfriend in for a hug. They linger in the embrace longer than necessary and you clear your throat to catch his attention.

He jolts just the slightest bit when he sees you and immediately lets her go.

“Everyone’s waiting,” you say quietly.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let me go get my stuff in the back.”

Jaehyun leaves the two of you alone and you wait for him to get back.

When you leave, he waves goodbye to her and she smiles back.

Jaehyun’s celebration party is rowdy, but it’s to be expected when Johnny is the one hosting.

He books a table at the local club and even orders bottle service. The eight of you work your way through two whole bottles of tequila and are already on your third. Jaehyun is downing the shots at a quicker pace than usual and you’re a bit concerned, but you’re unable to say anything because when you try, he whisks himself away to the dance floor and strikes up a conversation with someone else.

You’re perturbed, but you say nothing. This is his celebration night and he can choose to enjoy it how he wishes.

By the end of the night, Jaehyun is noticeably drunk and you haul him outside to get a breath of fresh air in hopes of sobering up. He’s heavy, but you make it out the side door. You prop him up on your side as you lean on the grimy brick walls.

Months have passed and the weather is chilly.

Jaehyun’s body sways and he murmurs something in your ear. You don’t catch it the first time, the overwhelming smell of tequila overtaking your senses.

“What was that?”

He grumbles beneath his breath, steps staggering once more. He tries again, this time his words are crisp and clear and they cut into you in more ways than one.

“I think we should end it.”

For someone so drunk, he sounds so sober.

You’re at a loss for words. A part of you knew this was coming from his lack of enthusiasm around you and his decreased texts. Even the cold night air couldn’t keep your heartbreak at bay. You say nothing, but you understand the both of you knew it was a silent agreement.

You breathe out wisps of chilled air as Jaehyun’s inebriated body stays slumped over on your side.

You volunteer to take Jaehyun home.

You tuck him gently in bed making sure to prop him on his side in case he vomits during the night. You pour a glass of water and place an ibuprofen on his nightstand drawer for him in the morning.

You kiss him on the forehead one last time. You hope it conveys all of the things brewing in your heart at the moment, but you know it doesn’t.

Later, you leave his apartment with all of your belongings that you ever left there with the stars as your witness.

You never return to his place again.

10. Coffee Shop by B.A.P

what could’ve been.

“So without knowing, like a habit, I came here.”

Jaehyun wakes up to an empty bed.

Morning sunlight streams through his blinds and burns at his skin as a sign to get ready for the day. He blinks the drowsiness from his system and stretches his weary joints before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

On his rare day offs, he allows his body to go on auto-pilot. He completely shuts his brain off and allows it to do whatever it chooses.

Today, it takes him back to the cafe.

His body knows where it’s going before it registers in his mind.

The barista manning the order counter is different, but the decorations are the same, still the same succulents hanging from the ceilings. He mulls over the menu and goes up to order.

“Can I get an iced caramel latte?” Jaehyun doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s feeling nostalgic today.

“Of course! Here’s your total.”

He pays with a swipe of his card and the barista goes to work making his drink. He waits around by the counter and soon enough, his drink is ready. That particular table is empty, so he grabs a chair to sit. His first sip is overly saccharine, but he appreciates how the flavor mellows out by the end of it.

It’s been nearly a year since that night.

Jaehyun remembers waking up to a splitting headache and a dry mouth. He thought nothing of the prepared setup as he gulps the ibuprofen and the glass of water in one go. Nothing seemed amiss really until a few days later.

No one mentioned your name around him and he caught Seulgi giving him a look every now and then. Mark didn’t say much either, but Jaehyun felt him drifting away.

He thought he’d feel a lot more, but he didn’t. One day you were a part of his life and then the next day you weren’t. It really was that simple.

He kept in contact with Joy even after La La Land was over and maybe they were something more, but it didn’t last longer than a few weeks.

It didn’t feel right when he was with her. Again, something felt off, but a different kind of off.

Joy was the one to end things with him, but he didn’t mind too much.

He filled his days with study and practice and it wasn’t until he landed a job at his local theatre company that he realized.

It was you. It was always you and perhaps it still is you.

Maybe you were different. Maybe you were the one, but Jaehyun didn’t try.

He recalls feeling smothered. You were always there at the beginning, but he took that for granted.

There are a lot of things he regrets, but above all, he regrets not talking with you. He regrets not trying to work on it. He regrets being a coward and running away at the first signs of true emotions.

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he, but he should’ve stayed so the both of you could work it out together. Jaehyun always did take too long to find the courage to pursue what he wanted.

With a final sip, he finishes the drink and moves to throw it away. Then, he sees you. Here, in the flesh, in almost a year.

Your hair is longer, but your cheeks are still as rosy as ever. You walk up to order and Jaehyun thinks it’s a sign. He moves to greet you, but the doors open again and in walk Yeri and Seulgi. He watches you greet them warmly with wide open arms.

You always did give the best hugs.

Jaehyun watches the three of you chatter away and he feels acutely out of place in the little cafe. You look happy and he should move on.

He throws his finished cup in the trash can and moves to exit through the side door, but he moves too slowly.

“Jaehyun, is that you?” You call out. He looks into your steady gaze and almost feels shy.

“Yeah,” he’s quiet. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” you agree. “You look well.”

The smile you give him has him believing in second chances and maybe he’ll get it right this time.

Note: i am so sorry that the second part is a hot mess express smh… there were a lot of things i planned and intended that didn’t happen, but i’ll just take this as a learning experience and write and better story next time. thanks for taking the time to read this !! <3

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