#I have to drag myself out of bed some days and it’s very tempting to wfh/bedrot

[herawell]

.

[her-devils-advocate]

I drag myself like a rug in the rain

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: sickfic / fluff

summary: You are sick with the flu, yet refuse to admit it before a certain stern captain. He easily makes you swallow your pride.

The title is taken from The Amazing Devil – Blossoms. It was also a quick drabble written from my own frustrations of being ill!

word count: 1,015

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55134844

“You’re not going and that’s final. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Levi’s voice is stern, leaving very little room for argument, but despite his harsh words, his hands are gentle as he pushes you back down on the bed.

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm more than capable of joining the meeting!" Your voice is strained, the words coming out jumbled as you rush to finish the sentence before being overtaken by yet another coughing fit. You weakly glance up at Levi, the man standing before you with crossed arms and a highly unimpressed look on his face.

"Right," he drawls out, moving to the other end of your small bedroom to lean against the door as if you were capable of rushing past him to escape his scrutinising gaze. Part of you is tempted to try, just to cause some amount of annoyance. The more rational part stays still, knowing that in your current state, you would just prove his point faster than you’re willing to.

"If you can walk over to me with ease, then I'll believe you."

You scoff, ignoring the harsh tickle in your throat that the action causes, and slowly rise from the bed. Your body protests, the stiff muscles aching with each movement while your vision blurs. You push it down, refusing to let it show on your face as you slowly place a foot forward, doing everything within your willpower to take a firm step.

"When I make it to you, you promise to let me attend the meeting?"

"If you can make it over here, then sure. It’s not like I want to keep you locked up in here, lazing around all day when we have shit to do.”

“When.” You argue weakly, refusing to back down despite the nausea growing worse with each passing second.

“Besides, you know the meeting is important, especially since it's about the upcoming expedition. We can’t afford to miss a single one now that it's approaching us.”

He rolls his eyes, shifting his position to get comfortable against the cold stone, almost as if he's expecting to be stood there for a while. “Stop stalling. If you want to go to the shitty meeting so much, you know what you have to do.”

You give him your best glare, yet from the way his lips twitch with a concealed smirk, you know you must look like a mess. You have hardly slept, the night spent in a feverish daze, despite retiring to bed earlier than you usually would. The day prior was spent pushing your body beyond its usual limits, wanting to train as much as possible despite the chill air, the change of season growing more noticeable. You groan, regretting the past yet being unable to change a thing.

“You could simply order me to stay in bed, that way we could just avoid this whole song and dance. The fact that you aren’t giving the order proves that you think I’m fine.” You mirror his stance, crossing your arms against your chest with fake confidence and wishing that he doesn’t notice the slight trembling of your hands.

This time Levi lets out a small laugh. The sound is airy and unexpected, and your eyes widen momentarily, convinced that your sickness has finally caused you to hallucinate the rare, but welcomed sight. 

“Nice try. We both know you wouldn’t obey the order, regardless of how sick you are, I’m not going to waste my time giving it. So if you would like to get this ‘song and dance’ over with?” Levi says as his eyes fixate on the way your breathing grows more and more laboured the longer you stand. 

You deflate, knowing he has called your bluff. You give in and place your weight on the extended foot, shakily moving forward. Your bones feel like glass and your chest burns, but you manage to take the first step. You forget to keep up the appearance of health, more focused on actually getting your body to function under his piercing stare, yet you silently celebrate the hollow victory. 

The mental celebration is cut short when you feel your legs give way, you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to feel your weak body collide with the solid ground. Instead of the unforgiving floor, you are met with strong, firm arms wrapped tightly around you. You slowly open your eyes to be met with his silver glare. Annoyance is painted clear on his face as his lips thin into a straight line.

“This is why you should have stayed in bed, instead of wasting time and arguing with me over it.” Despite the glare, his voice is soft as it reveals his worry. Your health has always been his top priority, even when it's just a common cold making its way through the scouts.

Levi slowly lifts you and brings you back to the warm comforts of your bed. You snuggle against your pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as he brings the blanket up to your chin. He tucks you in tight and you let out a small, slightly delirious giggle, you almost regret it when his hands pause and he stares at you expectantly.

“Are you trying to make it so I’m physically unable to leave this bed?”

His features soften and he continues to help you get comfortable, smoothing out the cover until each crease that dares to mar your blanket retreats, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

You’re not sure if you want to bask in the compliment or argue that you’ve had better ideas and that he knows it. Your mind is made up the moment he continues to speak.

“That way we can minimise the amount of surfaces you can infect with your germs. We don’t want you infecting the others at the meeting, do we? Now stay put while I bring you some food.”

And with that, he turns to leave the room, a soft smile on his face as your strained shouts of protest and offence follow his retreating form.

[devildom-moss]

Signs of Affection (gift)

Part 3/finale of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Beelzebub x gn!MC) (Thirteen x gn!MC) (Raphael x gn!MC) (Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +3,600

Beelzebub

By the time Beelzebub finally returned home, it was late. He made a stop after practice with one goal in mind: to make you smile. So, after a long day, the second he walked through the door, Beel went looking for you. Unfortunately, you weren’t in your room. Nor were you in his room – which was a shame, as a selfish part of him hoped to find you curled up in his sheets, waiting for him to get home. He would have asked Belphie if he hadn’t passed out in his own bed for a pre-dinner nap. Then, he remembered: you were in charge of making dinner tonight. How could he have forgotten? Usually, Beel would look forward to your home cooking all day, anticipation building in him until dinnertime. Beel hurried to the kitchen with a smile on his face.

When he found you, Beel couldn’t hold back. He came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and buried his face in your neck. Between your scent and the smell of whatever you were cooking, Beel was in a state of bliss. He sighed against your skin and whispered, “found you.”

You noticed that he was still wearing his school uniform. Beel tended to shower and change after he got home – especially when he had practice. “Did you just get back?”

“I’m home now.” Beel hugged you tighter and sighed again. His hot breath tickled your neck. If your presence hadn’t subdued him into a soft, pleasant haze, Beelzebub might have found the words to clarify: now that he finally had you in his arms, he felt at home.

“It’s pretty late. You must be starving. Is that why you came by? I’ll be done soon, I promise,” you reassured him with a soft smile.

“Actually, I came in for this” – Beel took one arm off you to dig something out of his satchel and set a bag of bright crimson candies, tied with a dark green ribbon, on the counter next to the stove – “I bought you a bag of cherry candies.”

“That’s so nice! Thank you, Beel.” You smiled over your shoulder at him.

“I got another bag for myself so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat yours. Wanna try one?”

“Sure.”

Beel pulled out a piece from his own bag – which he had already opened on the walk back home – and unwrapped it for you. Without a word, he brought it up to your lips. You knew you should have been used to him trying to hand feed you by now, but the feeling of his fingertips grazing your lips always stirred something in you, and you were rarely sure whether he was purposefully trying to turn you on or not. Although, those few times where he dared to tease you – by, for example, pushing his finger into your mouth along with a bright cherry candy, and dragging it along your tongue before sliding the saliva-dampened digit down your chin – suggested that he always knew what he was doing to you.

Whether it was from the rush of sugar melting on your tongue or the racing of your heart, your lips curved up.

“There’s that smile.” A soft, breathy chuckle teased you further. “I thought I should bring back something sweet for you – because you’re sweet.”

“Aww, you think I’m sweet?” His words made you melt.

“Yes. You’re a very sweet person,” Beel replied in a candied tone. He loosened his grip around you to place his hands on either side of the stove, boxing you in. Leaning over your shoulder, Beel whispered into your ear: “And you taste even sweeter.”

The seductive drop in his voice sent chills up your spine that caused your shoulders to tremble slightly – an effect you hoped that Beel wouldn’t notice. You did your best to divert his attention and give yourself a chance to calm down. “Are you hungry? Do you want to try some of the stir-fry?”

Beel laughed and opened his mouth for you to feed him. You carefully grabbed a piece of meat with cooking chopsticks and allowed it to cool before holding it in your hands. It wasn’t as if you were eager to feel Beel’s lips on your skin. You just knew that you could trust him to not take a bite out of you more than you could trust him not to bite through the chopsticks. Besides, you didn’t want to contaminate the food by letting him eat with your cooking utensil.

He looked so happy as he chewed. “It’s delicious. I wish I could eat your cooking every day.”

“Thank you, Beel,” you grinned with a hint of pride.

Beelzebub wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your neck affectionately once more. His cheeks burned, and he admitted, “But I still want to eat you most of all.”

Thirteen

When Thirteen invited you to her cave, you hadn’t expected to find such an obvious trap awaiting you. Right in front of the entrance to the cave was a vibrant pink gift box tied with a blue ribbon. She wasn’t fooling anyone, but you would hate to disappoint her, so you approached the present and leaned down to pick it up, trusting that Thirteen wouldn’t put you in harm’s way. Besides, you didn’t sense any malicious magic coming from the present.

The second you lifted the lid, a flurry of bubbles and confetti rushed out of the box. A particularly large bubble that was uniquely semi-opaque floated closer to you. There was something inside, or at least the strange shadow near the bottom suggested as much. You held your hands to catch the bubble, but just as it reached your palm, it burst into a puff of smoke, leaving its contents in your hand. Once the smoke cleared, you saw a bracelet with large, light pinkish-purple colored stone beads.

“Okay, where’s the cute little trickster who designed this?” you yelled out, knowing that Thirteen was probably watching nearby.

There was a gentle rustling in a nearby tree before you saw Thirteen hanging upside down from a sturdy branch. She arched her spine and bent backwards so she could get a good look at you. Thirteen gave you a smile, kicked her legs off the branch, and flipped over, landing safely on her feet. You felt compelled to clap for her.

“Someone called for a cute trickster?” Thirteen walked over while stretching her arms above her head, lifting her shirt up slightly higher.  

You tried to ignore your racing thoughts and asked, showing her the bracelet in your hand, “what’s this?”

“It looks like a thirteen-bead lilac kunzite bracelet – knotted, with a silk cord,” Thirteen answered plainly before a grin snuck up on her face. “Oh~ you mean, is this pretty little accessory and Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise a gift for a precious human from someone madly in love with them? Who knows.”

“I’d say you might know.” You laughed at her, which only made Thirteen’s smile widen.

“I might,” she confirmed.

“Well, your – I mean their – Mr. Bubble Barrage Surprise was delightful, and it is a very pretty bracelet. Whatever human receives this is lucky, and I’m sure they are just as madly in love with the sender.”

“Oh you!” Thirteen bit her lip, all too pleased that you had not only played along with her but had flirted to the point of making her heart race. “Let me put this on for you.”

“You mean it’s for me?” you teased.

“Stop playing with me – unless you’re willing to put something at stake. In which case, I won’t go easy on you. Now, give it here.” Thirteen held her hand out with a wicked grin. You placed the bracelet in her palm.

Thirteen loosened the bracelet and slipped it over your hand. She rubbed her fingertip over the first stone and continued the motion like they were prayer beads until she got to the seventh. On that one, Thirteen rolled it back and fourth over your skin a few times. Then, she tightened the bracelet around your wrist.

“Thank you, Thirteen. But why did you want to give me this?” Usually, Thirteen preferred to give you food that the both of you could share or gadgets she had made. A bracelet wasn’t something you expected from her. Then, it occurred to you. “Wait, did you make this yourself?”

“What do you think?” Thirteen held your hand up, admiring the way her work looked against your skin. She smirked. “I am good with my hands, after all.”

Trying to ignore her innuendo, you asked, “What made you think to make this for me? It’s so sweet of you.”

“The answer isn’t that sweet; do you still want to know?” Thirteen caressed your knuckles with her thumb.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“I wanted to stake my claim on you. Those idiots are always clamoring for your attention, and I don’t mind that you indulge them, but it makes me feel a bit possessive. Since I’m certain you wouldn’t allow me to bite you every day, this is my way of marking you. I hope you don’t mind.” Thirteen had a soft smile on her lips – tainted with the shame of her jealousy. She grabbed the ends of your bracelet and tugged it gently, guiding your hand upright. Then, she slid her hand up, and intertwined her fingers with yours. “I want you to remember that you’re mine too.”

Raphael

Days alone with Raphael were a rarity, especially days spent comfortably relaxing in his room – and not just because the state of his room was often too chaotic for him to invite you in without any shame. However, Raphael found the place in a post-project cleanliness that encouraged him to ask you over at your earliest convenience. He was happy to have you all to himself.

“Take your shirt off,” Raphael suddenly insisted.

“Excuse me?” He had always been blunt, but the demand startled and flustered you. It wasn’t off the table, but the way he brought up his desires – how he initiated his advances – was jarring. You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Raphael chuckled at your surprise – almost as if he had intentionally phrased it that way just to tease you. He got up and went to his designated “projects for MC” bin and pulled out a neatly folded cloth, “I made you something, and I want to see how it fits you.”

He held a black button-down shirt up to your body. The cuffs and collar had subtle gold and blue embroidery that matched the four-part diamond accent unique to Raphael’s Celestial Realm clothes – the one on his choker and the front of his pantlegs. During his downtime over the past few weeks, Raphael had worked hard, crafting the shirt from scratch and ensuring everything down to the gold-thread buttonholes was beautiful. He had even taken the time to match the golden thread and the diamond-shaped metal buttons.

“Do you not want to get undressed?” Raphael’s lower lip pushed forward in a false pout – and had you realized he was setting you up to tease you, you might not have felt your chest tighten with heart-wrenching pity. That pout revealed its true nature: a wicked smirk unbefitting an angel. “Or maybe you’d like some help, hm?”

“Okay, if you don’t mind,” you agreed coolly, hoping to calm his teasing with shameless honesty.

Raphael draped your new shirt over the edge of his bed, freeing up his hands so he could take his time with you. His fingers lingered along your bare skin, appraising each inch of the exposed flesh he revealed. Scarred, hairy, dry, uneven, or sagging skin – any perceived flaw and every part of your body under his hands deserved the reverence he held for you. Each unnecessary caress was an offering of affection, praise whispered through a brief topographical survey of your body. Once he got you out of your shirt, Raphael took a second to admire you before helping you into the new one. He slowly buttoned it up, savoring the warmth of your core. His fingers stopped after the third button from the top, and he trailed his index finger down your exposed skin until he reached the button he had just done and hooked his finger inside your shirt. A part of him wanted to stop and undress you all over again.

“Raphael.” You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull him out of the daze he had worked himself into. He blinked slowly.

“Sorry. It’s not every day that I get to treat you like my doll.” Raphael held a gentle smile on his lips and dragged his gaze up to your chest as he finished buttoning up your shirt. Just as he imagined it would, the shirt fit beautifully. He smoothed his thumb over the embroidery on your collar. “Perfect.”

Raphael was right. The material was soft, and the shirt was a perfect fit. It was unbelievable. “How did you make this? It feels like you tailored it just for me, but you didn’t even take my measurements. Is that some kind of superpower?”

“Of course not,” Raphael chuckled at your confusion. “You know that silky black shirt you wore at the last R.A.D. event? I thought you looked amazing in it, so I used it to construct a pattern for this shirt.”

“You stole my shirt?”

“No. I borrowed it.”

“What? When? How?” You scrambled to understand what Raphael had done to get his hands on your clothes, but you decided to disregard those concerns and asked, “Do you still have it?”

“Yes – probably. I might have lost it in the sewing process. I’m sorry.” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can buy you a new one.”

“It’s okay. I already have a new shirt thanks to you.” You offered him a soft, understanding smile.

“But you looked really good in that one,” Raphael protested. “Let me buy you a replacement. I insist.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Good.” Raphael busied his hands by folding up the shirt you were wearing before. “Oh, but if I find it, do you want the old shirt back?”

“If you can use it for something else, you can keep it.”

“Oh? Alright.” Raphael nodded. Wonderful. He just had to keep the old one hidden for a few more days.

Mephistopheles

You were busy helping Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Satan with paperwork when Mephisto burst into the student council room. He had been searching for you all day to give you a gift. He’d never admit to keeping his eye out for you – nor would he admit to sinking so low as to ask the one angel he actually got along with if he knew your whereabouts. Luke mentioned seeing Barbatos escorting you to the council room, so Mephisto took that lead and explored it.

It was annoying that you weren’t easier to track down, but Mephisto was especially irritated to find you sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lucifer as that pompous bastard leaned over to examine your work – as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world that Lucifer was coming on to you by pressing himself against you. What an entitled ass. What a rude, desperate, jerk!

Mephisto was fuming as he made his way over to you – although his anger wasn’t directed at the human he was unfortunately enamored with. He came up right behind you and Lucifer and sandwiched himself between the two of you as he set a small black leather box with silver accents down on the table.

“For me?” You stared at him, confused.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you as if you had just asked the stupidest question he had heard all week. He started to speak: “Are you –”

“Yes, of course it is,” Mephisto cooed, happily interrupting Lucifer, and bent over the table until he had claimed the scarce space between paperwork. He stared at you over his shoulder with a seductive tint that Lucifer should have been grateful to be spared from witnessing. Mephisto’s gaze didn’t break as he asked, “Who else in this room would I go out of my way to spoil, you ridiculous creature?”

“Diavolo, probably,” you answered honestly.

“Lord Diavolo doesn’t require my spoiling. He’s a perfectly capable leader.”

“MC doesn’t require your spoiling either,” Lucifer interjected. “They’re spoiled plenty at home.”

“What sort of egotistical guardian denies someone the simple pleasure of a present because he believes himself capable of tending to their every need?” Mephisto continued to keep his eyes on you as he directed his question at the demon to his side.

“Excuse me? What overinflated suitor believes he’s more capable of pleasing someone who lays their head down in the bed of another?”

“I could ask you the same question!”

“Can you two knock it off?” You sighed, glancing around the room. Barbatos gave you a look that suggested he was two more coded insults away from shutting those two up himself.

“I’m finished with this stack anyway.” Lucifer gathered his paperwork into a tidy pile and got to his feet. “Just call on me if you need anything at all, MC. I’m certain I can fulfill whatever you ask of me.”

Once Lucifer walked away, you saw Mephisto’s shoulders relax. You shook your head, slightly entertained by his commitment to hating Lucifer. “Thank you for the gift, Mephisto. This is very sweet. I’ll open it after I’m done here, okay?”

“Certainly. Well” – Mephisto stood up straight, smoothed down his jacket, and quickly squeezed your shoulder as if he was afraid to let anyone notice that a desire to touch you burned in him – “I should be on my way.”

“Wait. Could I have a kiss before you go?” you asked.

“What? Why would you want –? Right now?” Mephisto felt especially flustered at the idea of kissing you in front of Diavolo and Barbatos. If you had just asked in front of Lucifer and Satan, he would have quickly obliged you.

“Please?” You encouraged him, sweetly.

“What’s the matter, Mephistopheles?” Lucifer made his way back towards the wreckage to antagonize the drowning victim. A sadistic smirk sat on his lips. “I gave MC a kiss the last time I gave them a present. Can’t you do that much?”

“I don’t want to!” Mephisto huffed and stormed away. You felt guilty and were about to chase after him to apologize when he loudly demanded, “Don’t follow me. Just leave me alone.”

You sat back down in your seat and nervously chewed your lower lip. Every part of that situation could have gone better. I probably shouldn’t have asked so much of him, and I didn’t need to be so persistent, you thought. Eventually, you refocused on your paperwork – trying to distract from the awkwardness you felt and to keep your eyes from wandering to the present sitting on the table, taunting you. Mephisto was being so nice to you, and now he's probably in a terrible mood; that didn’t seem fair, and it certainly didn’t seem fair that you were left with a gift that you said you would open. The paperwork-distraction did, inevitably, come to an end. There was nothing left to shove between you and that gift; your hands were idle. Maybe you shouldn’t open it.

“MC,” Diavolo interrupted your thoughts. “I think Mephisto would be happy if you opened it now.”

“He would?” You traced the decorative silver boarder along the top of the box.

“I’ve known him longer than anyone else. If I had to guess, I’d say he was really excited for you to open that present – whether he was here or off sulking somewhere. He just wanted to make you happy.” Diavolo offered you a smile and returned to his desk.

You decided to open it. Inside the box was a well-crafted brooch that was aimed to complement your style, which indicated that Mephisto had carefully considered what would suit you. Underneath the brooch was a small card with your name written on it in Mephisto’s lovely – although possibly ostentatious – calligraphy. You opened the card to read:

Wear this to dinner tonight. Dress nicely. A car will arrive to pick you up at the House of Lamentation at 8pm. Yours, unfortunately, Mephistopheles

He got you a present and asked you on a date – or, well, maybe demanded one. Now you really felt bad for letting him storm off. Would he even still want to keep your date? You pulled out your D.D.D. and anxiously crafted a message.

MC: Hey, Mephi. I’m sorry I was so pushy earlier. I shouldn’t have upset you by asking for a kiss so casually in front of people. I hope you aren’t too upset. . . Do you still want to go on that date tonight? I’ll understand if you want to call it off.

You pressed send and waited for a response that came soon after.

Mephistopheles: Just don’t get so needy in front of Lord Diavolo in the future.

Mephistopheles: And yes, I expect to see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it. However, I need you to do one more thing for me.

MC: Sure, what is it?

Mephistopheles: Bring a change of clothes with you – unless you want me to drop you off at home tomorrow afternoon in the same outfit you were wearing when you left.

You rolled your eyes and tried to tease him.

MC: What? I can’t go home in the morning? Are you not a morning demon?

Mephistopheles: I won’t be done with you by the time morning reaches us. Any other questions, you ridiculous creature?

(kiss version - Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Solomon)

A/N: This took way too long and I cannot explain why (I don't know. Maybe my brain is broken). Also we should get to romance the sides after the next update because it would make sense but also because I want to - even if they might disappoint me.

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Cid Telamon Edition

Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI Author's Note: There isn't enough about this chain-smoking DILF, and that's just a shame, ain't it? Be the change you want to see in the world fellas.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Cidolfus is affectionate both in and out of the bedroom, but especially so after a session of lovemaking. He becomes very vulnerable, so don’t be surprised if he keeps you all to himself after the fact.

He peppers you with kisses, from your neck, to your chest, and back to your lips. It’s almost reverent how he worships you, how he makes you feel alive, seen. 

“Cid, come now, we’ve got to get cleaned up—“ You whine, pushing him away with little success.

He barely acknowledges you, grinning ear to ear as he kisses you slowly, fingertips dancing at your sides. “Let me enjoy myself a bit, it’s not everyday an angel falls into my bed.”

You’re tempted to say something, but his verdant gaze locks you in place, memorizing every inch of your body. 

At this rate you won’t leave the bed until sundown, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Everything, he loves everything about you, but he especially loves your hips, how the plush skin curves perfectly in his hands, how they serve as the perfect grip when he wants to bend you over the desk of his solar, and even more so when they fit perfectly against his pelvis when he presses you into the mattress. A close second would be your neck, for the sole reason that you fall to pieces when he places his lips against it, the prettiest noises threatening to spill from your lips.

For himself, he’ll say his voice. He never thought about it much, but after seeing how his words have an effect on you he uses it fully to his advantage.

He walks behind you, one hand on your hip and the other pressed right below your stomach, just shy of what would be appropriate. He slots himself against your backside, enjoying how deliciously you brush against his cock, the thin fabric of your dress just tempting him to lift it.

“How long have you been at those records my dear?” He groans against your neck, voice like gravel. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.”

His presence is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You bite your lip, silencing yourself when he nibbles at the skin of your throat, smirking. “Cid, please, you know I can’t…”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and when he starts to suck a bruise you can barely hold the moan that threatens to spill. “Don’t worry about Otto, I’ll talk to him. For now, let’s take a break in my chambers.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If you let him finish in your mouth, show him how well behaved you are by opening it and swallowing his spend, it’ll drive him crazy. If you bring your fingers to your mouth to lick off any excess while staring at him, be prepared to not walk straight for the next few days. You look up at him, exhausted but pleased. After catching his breath for a moment Cid’s fingers press against your cheeks, a signal you’re very familiar with. “Open.” Wordlessly, you part your lips to reveal his seed, sat heavy against your tongue. A moment passes, and then he nods, watching transfixed as you swallow, gladly sticking out your tongue as proof. He wipes away a stray drop and you bring the digit to your lips without question, never letting your eyes leave his. A visible shudder runs through his body before he drags you upwards, lips meeting in a searing kiss. “You’ll be the fucking death of me woman.” He groans, before pulling you back in for more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

In his days of travel he’s been experience to plenty of unique locations and even more unique characters, but some of his more odd encounters have been in pubs, surrounded by men of varying morality simply sharing stories around a cup of ale. He recalls one man sharing the tales of his favorite pleasure girl and the various things they do in the bedroom, and he gave mention of how she tied him up once and let her have his way with him. He never thought about the conversation, but when he met you suddenly his curiosity peaked. 

He’d never say it outwardly, but if you were to bring some rope the next time you had sex, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced, without a doubt. There was a time when his face was known by several women of Waloed who were looking for a good time, even if it wasn’t for a long time. Those days are long behind him, but he’s grateful if only for the fact that he can now use those skills on you. “Didn’t know you were such a charmer Cid.” You taunt playfully, pressed against his side. “Mhm, those days are long past me now. I’d much rather spend my time with a certain someone.” He hums, content to enjoy your company. You smile, asking even though you already know the answer. “Pray tell, who would that someone be?” A kiss is pressed to your forehead, followed by another hum. “Someone very special to me.” 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, Cowgirl, anything where he can see your face. Watching your reaction is half the fun, and he’s a tease, so expect him to embarass you in the best way.

“I love seeing you like this, all pretty on my cock—“ He raises his hips to meet yours, your mind going blank. On instinct you look down, hiding your face until his rough hands hold you by the neck, unyielding even for a second.

“No no no, don’t you dare look away,” He coos softly, almost as if he isn’t keeping you bouncing on his lap. “Keep those pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, understand?”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

More on the serious side, but occasionally he’ll crack a joke or two. Don’t expect any humor from him past the foreplay stage though, he’s here for one thing only and he takes your pleasure very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He tries, but he really couldn’t care about his pube situation. If you mentioned it he’d probably take more care, but he’s lucky enough that it doesn’t grow out into an absolute jungle.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He has his moments, there’s always a hint of love in his actions even if he’s whispering absolute filth into your ear. He really becomes a romantic after the deed is done, as mentioned in the aftercare. He’s also more of a romantic when you two are alone behind closed doors, where no one can see you.

You lie beneath him, rendered breathless as he thrusts into you viciously, every grind of your cock inside you making it that much harder to function. He tears you apart at the seams, exposes you to your very core, and with a gentle press of his palm in your own, puts you back together once more. “You’re so fucking beautiful—” He grunts, the throaty sound of his voice bringing you back to reality, just barely. “So majestic, so perfect. All fucking mine—” And even when tears brim your eyes, when you struggle to keep your sanity under his skillful touch, he grounds you. A hand at your thigh, or a kiss to your lips, he brings you right back, then pushes you over the edge once again with another sharp thrust. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

High sex drive, but usually doesn’t jerk off. He’s often busy with the hideaway, so he tries to focus on something else and deal with it later. Besides, he’d rather wait for you to take care of his needs, it’s more fun that way. On the occasions that it’s just too much to bear he’ll relax in his bed and think of you, ignorant to anything that isn’t him and his dick in his hand. 

You walk to his bedchambers, searching for his opinion on the latest food shipment when you hear a groan in the hallway. When you get closer to his door it gets louder, and the faintest smirk pulls at your features when you recognize where you’ve heard that noise before. Without warning you walk inside, met with an enticing image of your lover sat against the headboard, thrusting into his hand languidly.

Eyes closed and mouth open, he whispers to himself, hints of your name dancing on his tongue with each grunt, just slightly hunched over with need. At the sound of your voice calling for him he turns, unashamed of his display.

His hand doesn’t stop moving as he speaks, licking his lips at the sight of you. “There you are, I was looking for you. Think you could help?”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dominance - Either giving or receiving. He tends to dominate you but as mentioned before, he has no qualms about letting you take the lead.

Orgasm Denial - He’s a tease, it’s almost downright evil. He could sit there for hours just holding you right on the edge just for fun, he likes how high your voice gets when you’re frustrated.

Praise - Cid would sing your praises to the entire hideaway if he could (and he’s tried, only for Lady Charon to “kindly” tell him to shut his trap.)

Facesitting - Please, sit on his face. He’ll damn near cry at the feeling of your thighs on his ears, please do yourself a favor and sit on his face and you won’t regret it. Sloppy eater.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom, or on the desk of the solar. He likes to hear you scream, so anywhere he can be sure you’ll make as much noise as possible is fine with him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Those pretty dresses you wear around the hideaway when you’re not adventuring. You look good in anything but something about a nice dress is so domestic to him, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s also a bonus that it offers easy access. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything pain-related, or anything that can draw blood. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so any and all weapons are off the table.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He enjoys a nice blowjob as much as the next guy, but he goes feral at the thought of eating you out. If he had his way he’d suffocate himself between your legs and die a happy man. He’ll wring orgasm after orgasm out of you and still not be satisfied, locking his hands together and forcing you still until he's had his fill of you. Tears streak across your face, the pleasure bordering on painful. How many times has he made you come at this point? You’ve lost count after three. Every movement feels strained, your legs have developed a permanent shake, and yet his mouth still moves against your vigorously, no hint of stopping. You beg for him to stop, to let you have a break, but he’s far too engrossed in the taste of you to pay attention. “Please, I need—I can’t—” Words fail you at this point and it hurts to talk, hurts to do much of anything except lie back and let Cid worship your cunt.

“Just one more darling, let me make you feel good.” He gasps against you, barely able to finish a sentence before descending on you again. “One more and I'll stop.” But you know better, because that’s what he said last time. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual, with a hint of roughness. He wants to treat you like the princess you are, but he just can’t seem to help himself when you look so damn good underneath him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes, more often than not he has to leave for one reason or another, and there just isn't enough time for a full session. He’s sure to make it up to you when he gets back.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Doesn’t mind a bit of experimentation, he’ll try anything once as long as you respect his boundaries.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Have you seen this man fight? He can go on as long as you need to, and oftentimes you have to beg him to stop. Whether he listens or not, however…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No, and he doesn’t need to. He can do plenty by himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Incredibly unfair, downright evil. The only thing he loves more than his cigars is the sound of his name on your lips.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Deep groans and hushed whispers, tends to talk you through whatever you’re feeling. Gets real loud when he’s about to come, and likes to bury himself further into you when he does.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes when you call him Sir. It started as a joke between you two, calling him the Lord Commander as a joke, which eventually turned into you calling him Sir. He found that he liked it more than he cared to admit, and during a make-out session you actually felt him twitch at the name and made it a point to tease him about it from then on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.5 inches, average girth, well-endowed and knows it. Has a vein running along the underside that makes him see stars, but be careful with that information, because Cid likes to return the favor tenfold.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, but he knows the importance of time and place. He isn’t thinking about it 24/7 but it's fairly obvious when he’s eyeing you from across the Hideaway that he isn't exactly thinking the most tame things about you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not quick at all, he enjoys the quiet time between you two after having sex, tracing every line and curve of your body slowly, taking his time with you. Need water, clean up, conversation? He’s down for it all. He does find it easier to fall asleep with you in his arms.

[cleoluvrr]

The Last Days of Summer VI (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 4.8k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

Rafe ditched me sometime that night, leaving the party to run off with Kelce and Topper.

I didn’t complain, actually very relieved that I didn’t have to pretend in front of his family, nor keep my head on a swivel to make sure he didn’t catch me alone again. Londyn and I left eventually as well, opting to go back to her house for the night. We were beat, the long day leaving us essentially useless. We fell asleep almost immediately after arriving, barely staying awake long enough to get ready for bed.

His sudden confession filled my mind for the rest of the night, brain struggling to understand where any of it came from. How did he know all of those things about me? Why did he wait so long to say anything? Why did he think I would suddenly fall into his arms and accept his so gracefully?

I left early the next morning, my father calling me home as some sort of punishment for my brother running off last night. I didn’t argue with him, bidding my farewells to the Woods’ before getting in the car Londyn’s mom ordered for me.

I didn’t get a moment to myself when I stepped foot into the shop. My father immediately sent me to work, ordering me to deliver groceries to people in town. I rode around Kildare on my dad’s boat with everyone’s orders, the deliveries were seemingly endless. Eventually I arrive at Kie’s parent’s restaurant, The Wreck.

I hop out of the boat with groceries in hand, dragging my feet towards the entrance. I enter the shop, tempted to just leave the groceries by the door and leave, and spot my brother and his friends gathered at a table nearby.

“And where the hell did you go last night?” I say, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I had to face the wrath of our dear father this morning, no thanks to you.” I cut my eyes at JJ as well, who sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

“You don’t get to be mad at me, Riah.” Pope rolls his eyes at me. “You went to that thing with Rafe Cameron. If anything I should be the pissed one here. Matter of fact, I think I am.”

“I’m so sorry that you have no idea how to fight back against some bullies, and your sister had to step in to save your weak behind. Twice.” I set the groceries down on the counter before walking over to the table, crossing my arms across my chest as I stand in front of my body.

“I didn’t ask your dumb ass to do that. Now we’re both in deep shit.” He says. I scoff.

“I’m sorry that I risked everything I’ve worked for to defend your honor.” I continued. “I had absolutely no idea that almost sacrificing my scholarship and risking jail time was not worth defending your ungrateful ass. I’m sorry that you have a poor choice in friends that just can’t seem to stop committing crimes.”

“Don’t talk about them like they’re not there.” Pope says, actually looking up at me now. He looks more than a little irritated, his jaw clenching as he speaks. “Do you think you’re better than me because you hang out with Kooks?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” I laugh dryly. “I just think you’re an idiot because you destroyed a thirty-thousand-dollar piece of property, no thanks to JJ once again, had some white boys posted outside of our house trying to intimidate us, and almost got arrested. You’re lucky JJ is a good friend or else your ass would be fried.”

“Thanks?” JJ says, not sure if I was giving him a compliment or insulting him.

“Didn’t you beat Rafe Cameron with a golf club? How is that any better than what I did?” He stands up, getting in my face.

“Because I’m not the one running around Kildare getting into bullshit everyday! That’s you!” I shout, shoving at his chest. Kiara moves to get in between us, but Pope doesn’t move. He just stares back at me just as angrily as I do him.

“Okay, I think you need to chill.” John B says to me.

“Shut up, John B.” Pope and I say in unison. The boy raises his hands in defense.

“Clearly none of you are talking sense into him, so I guess I have to.” I look around at the rest of the group, all of them avoiding eye contact with me. 

“I make my own decisions, Neriah.” Pope mumbles, sitting back down in his chair.

“Well they aren’t smart ones.” I knock Kie’s hand off my shoulder. “There are people that care about you, Pope. More than the people in this room and you seem to forget that. Or maybe you just don’t give a damn.”

With that I walk away, making my way towards the door. The restaurant is silent for a moment, everyone taking in what I just said.

“We care about him just as much as you do.” JJ says, briskly walking up to me before I can get to the door. I chuckle humorlessly, giving the blonde a tight-lipped smile.

“Then act like it.” I say, pushing the heavy door open. His eyes shift down to my neck, widening slightly as they catch mine again.

“What happened to your neck?” He inquires, voice low enough for only me to hear. He reaches up to touch it but I push his hand away, zipping up my jacket all the way and ignoring his concerned eyes.

“See you at home. Or not.” I give my brother a final glance before turning away.

With that, I exit the shop and go back to our dad’s boat. I drive down the marsh, not looking back at the building despite feeling all of their eyes on me.

Pope never came home that night.

My parents waited for him for a while, but they went to bed sometime after one in the morning. I went to bed as well, knowing better than to expect anything different from my brother. He still wasn’t there in the morning when I woke up, the sun high in the sky and no Pope in sight.

Londyn and I decided to waste the day together, meeting Brye on the way. The two of them could sense my poor mood the minute they set eyes on me. The entire time they tried to cheer me up. After an hour of gossip and cracking bad jokes I’d finally had enough.

“You guys know better than to think telling terrible jokes is going to make me feel any better.” I finally speak after spending the past hour moping to myself in silence.

“We knew that at some point you’d get annoyed enough to finally say something. Which you did!” Brye says, nudging me obnoxiously. I roll my eyes, standing up from my seat.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” I mumble as I walk away.

I wash my hands in the bathroom, watching myself in the mirror above the sink. The bruise on my neck has only gotten worse, the dark purple splotches peeking out of the top of my shirt. I’m visibly tense, my eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched unconsciously. My teeth have started to ache from the unintentional grinding. 

I shut off the water, gripping the sides of the sink as I take a deep breath. 

My brother and I each have our own lives. Very opposite lives. He would never do the things I do and I would never do the things I do. He’d sooner walk barefoot across broken glass before hanging out on Figure 8 willingly to be quite frank, which I understand. But sometimes I wish he would be more responsible. He actually has a future off of this island, but he never thinks of how easily that opportunity could be lost.

I have nothing again against his friends. I think Kie so desperately wants to defy her parents in any way she can, John B has a lack of true authority figures to guide him, and JJ is a klepto with a penchant for violence and alcohol. But that doesn’t make them bad people. They’re always there for my brother, they’d do anything for them, and I could ask for nothing more.

Except for them to make sure he doesn’t do the same stupid shit they do.

I sigh deeply, stepping out of the bathroom after drying my hands. I keep my head down as I walk, mind busy with things I need to say to Pope the next time I see him. I almost don’t hear the person calling for my attention.

“Excuse me. Excuse me, girl!” An older white woman dressed rather tackily calls out. I look around, wondering who she’s speaking to and furrow my eyebrows in confusion when she waves me over. “God, are you people deaf or something?” She says annoyedly, looking me up and down.

“Excuse me?” I ask, puzzled.

“Refill my drink. And make sure it’s light ice this time.” She shoves her empty glass towards me. When I don’t take it she looks at me expectantly. “Hello? Can you hear me? I said to get me a drink.”

“I don’t work here.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” She looks me up and down in disgust. “I didn’t know they let your kind of people into the club.” The other women she’s seated with giggle, each of them picking me apart with their eyes.

“What do you mean by that?” Feeling quite offended, I scrunch my face up at her. “Actually, I don’t care.”

“Did you sneak in here? Do I need to call security?” She says, smirking as she prepares to wave the guard over.

“She’s with me.” A familiar voice sounds out, footsteps approaching behind me. “Is there a problem, Carolyn?”

“Oh!” She says, dropping her hand back into her lap with a nervous smile. “Of course not. I just-”

“You ladies have a good day.” The voice says before placing a warm hand on my back and leading me away.

As soon as we’re out of the women’s line of vision I shove the hand off me, backing away quickly. I shiver at the way Rafe looks at me, the view of him genuinely smiling at me making me feel uneasy. It seems like I run into him more and more as the days go by.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He chuckles, shaking his head.

“You're welcome.”

“I didn’t need your help.” I cross my arms, pushing past him to go meet my friends again.

“It looked like you were about to be removed from the property to me.” Rafe says condescendingly. 

“Maybe all the coke is affecting your vision too.” Before I can make it very far, the Cameron son grabs my bicep and pulls me back to him. I try to snatch my arm away, but he doesn’t loosen up. “Don’t touch me.”

“Y’know, you really should be more grateful.” He looks down at me, still holding my arm in his grip. “You would be in a very bad position without me.” I scoff.

“I’m already in a bad position.” Roughly pulling myself away from him, I squint my eyes at him. “Leave me the hell alone, Rafe. I’ve already done what you wanted, and whatever you want to happen between us is not happening.”

“I don’t know…” He hums, tilting his head. “My side hurts a bit. My leg too. Maybe you can kiss it better for me?” He walks towards me, pretending to limp. I shove him away from me and he laughs.

“Fuck off, Rafe. I’m not in the mood for you today.” His laughter dies down slowly, eyes falling below my jawline. The feeling of his heated stare on me all of sudden has me shifting from foot to foot nervously. 

“Did I do that to you?” He asks, eyes still fixed on the large, finger shaped splotches of purple decorating my neck. I pull up the collar of my shirt in an attempt to cover my exposed skin. “Don’t cover it. I want to look.”

“Rafe. Do not piss me off right now.”

“I’m being serious.” He steps forward, reaching to lower my hand. “They look pretty on you.” I scoff, swiping his outreached hand away.

“You’re a dick.” I say as I storm away from him, hearing his laughter and feeling his gaze on my back as I retreat.

I make it to my friends after a short walk, ignoring their questions about what took me so long. We sat in the sun for a bit longer, drinking lemonade and talking about how sad we are about the summer coming to an end soon. 

I watch Rafe in the distance, talking with Topper and Kelce. Topper looks quite distressed, arguing with his two friends for a moment while they try to calm him down. I haven’t seen him with Sarah since Midsummers, and even then they looked a bit distant. At least Sarah did. I wonder if that’s what has him so upset.

“Rafe Cameron!” A voice calls out.

We all snap our head in the direction of the sound. I spot a shorter man get out of a car and walk towards the gate very menacingly. I watch as Rafe and Topper approach him, the younger confused as the man confronts Rafe very aggressively. 

“Who did he piss off this time?” Brye asks, watching the ordeal disinterestedly. 

“Who hasn’t he pissed off?” Londyn adds, causing me to throw my head back in laughter.

“Am I just some little bitch?” The shorter man asks rather loudly. “Is that what your family looks at me like?”

Rafe tries to calm him down, looking around at the crowd that’s started to gather. He looks just as confused as the rest of us, as if he has no idea why the man he seems to be quite familiar with has shown up to confront him.

“Okay, so why is your little sister and her little surf rat friends running around stealing $25k out of my house?”

Sarah? Surf rat friends? Stealing?

Sarah Cameron wouldn’t pick a penny off the ground for good luck, what the hell does he mean she stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from him? Sarah Cameron has more money than anyone on this island. And what Pogues are running around with the Kook princess? The only Pogues Sarah has ever spoken to willingly are me and John B.

John B. Surf rat friends. Pogues. John B. Sarah. John B.

Shit.

The confrontation turns violent when Rafe puts a hand on the man’s shoulder. The man shoves him roughly, yelling something that I can’t make out. Topper steps in and breaks up the altercation, separating the two.

“Sort this shit out with your sister.” The brunette man says.

“Alright!” Rafe says panickedly.

“Imma get my money. If it’s not from you, it’s from her.” The man backs off, walking towards his car. “Remember that. I’ll see you boys around.”

Rafe and Topper talk for a minute, the two of them looking equally as stressed out. Everyone else has stopped watching, including my friends who have gone back to their previous conversation, but I keep my eyes on the two. Eventually the boys get on their bikes, pulling off quickly as their engines rev all the way down the street.

How deep are Pope Heyward and his friends?

“You stole twenty-five-thousand dollars from a drug dealer…and spent it all on a hot tub?” I yell angrily. “Have you lost your minds?”

“To be fair, it’s a nice hot tub.” JJ says. I look at him incredulously. 

I came to JJ’s house the next day to find my brother and confront him about the things I overheard the day before. I nearly passed out when I saw the large jacuzzi sitting in JJ’s front yard, knowing that only he’d be irresponsible enough to buy something like that with stolen drug money.

“How did you even find out?” Pope asks.

“He was yelling at Rafe about how his baby sister was running around with some Pogues robbing people.” Pope looks even more confused, jumping out of his chair before coming up to me in the middle of the yard.

“You were hanging out with Rafe Cameron?” I scoff in disbelief at his audacity to be upset with me.

“No, I wasn’t hanging out with him, and even if I was, that’s not the point.” I push past him to go stand on JJ’s porch next to Kiara. She looks at me sheepishly and scratches her head. “There is a man out there, multiple men, that want your heads.”

“Neriah, don’t worry. We got this.” JJ says walking up to me. He tries setting a comforting hand on my shoulder but freezes midair when I give him a deathly look. He backs off with his hands raised, going back to what he was doing before.

I spent a while at his house, stressfully thinking about the trouble my brother can’t seem to stay out of. The rest of them return to whatever it was they were doing before I arrived. I watch as Pope lifts Kie into a tree with a large bucket, and JJ sits in the hot tub under the shade of the tree. I have multiple missed calls from Rafe, surely about my brother and his friends running around with Sarah.

I’m so deep in my thoughts that I almost don’t notice John B. The boy speeds past me into JJ’s house, the rest of the group following after him. I don’t go in, letting them handle whatever his problem is on his own. 

I hear stuff clattering around and muffled voices through the door, but I pay it no mind.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” I hear JJ raise his voice. I stand up immediately, entering the house.

I briefly see the brunette push my brother into the table, walking so fast out the door that I almost miss him. I follow everyone out the house, watching as they chase him down. He speeds off on his bike, disappearing down the dirt road. I don’t ask them what’s going on, this being something that must be deeply personal.

I leave shortly after that, the atmosphere far too tense for me to feel comfortable there. 

I return home, locking myself up in my room for the rest of the day. I only come out to shower and grab food, leaving my parents to wallow in their misery alone. Pope hadn’t been home in three days, and while I’m used to it, I don’t think my parents ever stop worrying. I hope he’s smart enough to come home tonight considering he has a once in a lifetime scholarship interview in five hours.

My hopes come true when I hear the front door open.

“You waited up.” Pope says to my father. The man had been sleeping in the living room since the night his son left, waiting for his return.

“You left?” Heyward asks. “Because I hadn’t noticed.”

The air is silent for a moment, tension replacing the sound of voices. I turn over in bed, slipping on my earbuds to drown out the sound of a lecture. I watch my bedroom door open slowly after a few minutes, behind it a tired looking Pope.

We look at each other for a moment, neither of us saying a word. He looks down at the floor before backing out of my room and closing the door behind him.

“Goodnight.” I whisper into the darkness of my room.

My dad and brother leave together early in the morning, away to Pope’s interview before I’m awake to see them off. Our dad wouldn’t be back until later, saying that he had to handle some business at the airstrip for the Cameron’s.

Pope didn’t come back that night either.

I spent half of the next day roaming around the south side, something I hadn’t done in a while. It was very comforting to know that I wasn’t an outlier here. Nobody thought less of me because of how much money I did or didn’t have, I was just another person here.

It also distracted me from my parents slowly going insane from Pope’s blatant disrespect and irresponsibility.

The house felt stuffier than the sticky, summer air outside sometimes, the wedge between my brother and our parents growing larger as the days go by.

As I peruse around midtown I people watch, residents running errands and tourists looking around like this is the most interesting place they’ve ever been. I end up near the dock, the ferry bobbing in the water next to the wooden deck. Everyone buzzes around, colorful clothes a blur in front of me as I watch mindlessly.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a familiar car. I turn towards the car, squinting at the vehicle parked across the street. 

My eyes widen when I spot the people inside. 

I storm towards the car, everyone inside distracted with a heated conversation. 

“Pope. Heyward.” I say when I reach the open driver's side window, my voice dangerously calm.

Everyone’s head snaps towards me as the words leave my mouth. Pope runs his hands over his face, looking even more stressed than he did a moment ago. Everyone looks scared and anxious, tension in the car high.

“Hey, Riah…do you think you can save the lecture for another day?” JJ says, leaning out of his window to speak to me. “We really don’t have time for this.”

“Kiss my ass.” I cut my eyes at JJ wh retreats back into the car. 

“Neriah, we really don’t have time. Seriously.” Pope sighs, looking at me irritably. 

“Oh, you wanna talk about time? We can talk about time.” I smile at him tensely. “You know what I spent my time doing last night? Convincing our father not to throw your shit out on the street. I should’ve let him do it considering that’s where you’d rather be nowadays.”

“Neriah, please.” Kie says, looking out the window anxiously. 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m talking.” I snap.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Pope snaps as well, hitting his hands on the steering wheel. “What is your problem?”

“Not only did you vanish, again, you ran out on a once in a lifetime opportunity. To do what? Hang out in your friend's car smelling like dope?” I ask motioning at the car. “You have officially lost your rabid ass mind.”

Pope snatches a piece of paper out of Kiara’s hand and shoves it at me, the wrinkled paper hitting me in the chest. I snatch it away, smoothing it out before reading it.

My eyes widen, eyes raising to finally see John B hiding in the backseat next to JJ.

“This! This is why I’m with my friends right now!” Pope shouts at me. I stare at the picture of John B’s face and the bounty over his head in shock.

“Not only are you majorly irresponsible, you're harboring a fugitive?” I whisper the last part, not wanting anyone around to hear. “I should turn your ass in. Maybe then my brother will stop roaming the streets like he doesn’t have a home.” I say to John B.

“God, Neriah. You just don’t get it, do you?” My brother’s voice drips in frustration directed at me. I sigh, throwing the paper back into the car.

“No, I get it.” I back away from the car. “I’ll be sure to tell mom you aren’t dead. Now go, before somebody recognizes you. Fucking idiots…” I mumble as I briskly walk away from the car, silently praying that they come up with something.

[captain-mj]

Price tracking down Vampire Alex to give him the shovel talk.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Alex left Gaz’s apartment the next morning. He made sure to leave before the sun rose since Gaz was going to be busy most of the day. They kissed goodbye and he was so tempted to pull him back into bed and ask him to stay but Gaz was human and needed to do things apparently.

Alex wasn’t entirely sure what things but things.

He went back to his own home, planning on sleeping most of the day away when he noticed a person in his chair, crossbow in hand.

Judging by the hat and the cigar, he knew it was Price. Several of his curtains had been opened just enough to make slivers of sunlight from the incoming dawn fall all over the floor, meaning he was a big disadvantage.

He regretted not dragging Gaz back in to bed. Hindsight is 20/20.

“Sit.” Price ordered. It wasn’t what he was expecting, but Alex grabbed one of the chairs not over a beam of light and pulled it into the dark, sitting down. 

“My kid, Garrick, you came from his apartment didn’t you?”

No point lying. “Yes. I did.”

“He still breathing?”

“Of course.” Alex looked at him, relaxing. Gaz’s blood still in his mouth. 

“Good.” Price readied the bolt, aiming it right through Alex’s chest. “I’m going to give you this speech once since I’m sure you won’t need me to repeat myself.”

“Understood, sir.” 

“You ever in the military?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in war.”

“Which one?”

Alex stared at him before just shaking his head. “Can’t remember the first anymore very much. It had been the Texas war against Mexico in the 1800′s.” He wasn’t even sure he knew what exactly it was about anymore. Memories stained with blood. He had been 18, desperate to prove himself. The biggest thing from that time he remembered was waking up in a ditch covered in blood with fangs in his mouth. “Left the US for a while after that and went to Britain. Then the whole World Wars started. Joined the war again. Thought the world was a better place without Nazi’s in them.”  

Price nodded. “You have a reputation, but you didn’t kill Gaz. Why?”

“He’s... interesting. And gorgeous. And...” He thought of him, his soft eyes. “I really like him.” 

“Alright. I’m not going to kill you.” Price let the crossbow down. “Yet. You’re going to continue... whatever you have going on with Gaz. It makes him happy, he’s better in the field and you aren’t killing anyone that I can tell. But one toe out of line. One boundary you cross. He comes to me with the smallest complaint.

“I’ll tie you to a pole outside and watch you burn to death in the sun.” 

“I have no intention of ever hurting Gaz, sir.” Alex promised. “But I’ll keep your threat in mind...”

“Good. That’s all I ask. Now, should I be expecting Gaz in today?”

“Might be a bit slow, but he’ll be there.”

Price nodded. “Go get some sleep. It’s getting late for you.” He stalked past him, crossbow firmly in his hand. 

Alex tensed as he passed them, Price’s hand coming to pat his shoulder. He smiled and Alex understood fear for the first time in decades.

“You have a nice day, sir.”

Price laughed. “At ease, son.” He left, the door shutting behind him.

Alex realized a problem. The curtains were still pulled and the sunlight now covered giant lines over the floor that he wouldn’t be able to cross over. 

Fuck. He was going to have to sleep in this stupid chair.

[hillvalleywrites]

1, 12, 17, and 19 for the writing ask game!

1. The last sentence you wrote

'Thomas, why do you do this to yourself?'

12. A trope you're really into right now

I'm obsessed with time loops. It's a rigid mechanic that contains amazing flexibility. They're about how people can change and about how people can resist change at all cost. They're about hope and futility. They're about how you make your own bed and about how powerless you feel to control how you move through the world. I've always loved them but I read an incredible Death Note fic about two months ago that's had my brain buzzing about them ever since.I explored something time loop-esque with I Just Can't Stay Here Every Yesterday, but I'd love to write a true time loop fic.

17. Talk about your writing and editing process

My writing process can definitely vary depending on the project, and also my mental health/state of mind whilst I'm writing it. For a longfic, though, I like to loosely plan each chapter (I use flashcards for this, a few bullet points on each one), to get a shape of the overall structure of the story and the key points of each character arc. From there, I start writing. I like to write chronologically, so that I'm not tempted to skip straight to the parts that excite me most and leave myself filling in all the 'functional' gaps later. However, I also like to give myself a bit of flexibility, so if I feel like there's a scene I'm really really drawn to in that moment and it's crowding out the scene I'm meant to be writing, I'll write that one instead. Depending on how I'm feeling that day (I struggle with agoraphobia), I either write at home in silence, or I'll go to a cafe/bookshop and write there, using the people around me as ambient noise. Usually as I work through a draft, I'll have more ideas for the later half of the work, and I'll add any more ideas to the flashcards or flesh out existing ones to come back to later. I'm most productive when I write every day and set myself word goals. For example, with my current WIP, I wrote ~33,000 words in six weeks by being consistent with it. However, my mental health in the six weeks since then has been...awful...and I haven't written anything. But I'm finally in a place where I'm ready and excited to get back to it and finish this draft. I only have two chapters to go!

With editing, I like to have a full first draft of the entire fic before I start editing. I make a copy of the draft and change the font (my first drafts are in calibri, second in times new roman, third + beyond in arial). Then I read the draft in full and write, on paper, some notes about how I feel the pacing, structure, and character arc play out over the fic. Does it feel fast? Slow? Where does it drag? Are there any points where I don't believe the characters' decision-making is convincing? Are there any threads that feel dropped or unresolved? I leave comments for myself on the draft and turn track changes on. Then I use the search function to find all the words I tend to overuse: 'just', 'felt', 'turned', 'looked', 'breathed', stuff like that. I consider the sentences where I find them and ask myself: are they necessary (usually not). I mark them up too, then go back and begin the process of rewriting sentences and fixing any structural and pacing issues. At this point, I'll send it to my beta (if I'm using a beta). Then I go through all their suggestions and make the corrections I want to make, and disregard the ones I don't think are useful. Before I upload a chapter, I'll do a final pass, checking for punctuation, spelling, and other minor copyedits. I like this process because it's very thorough and produces, I think, the best version of my work, but it's also hard because no-one is reading it until a very late stage in the process. I've toyed with the idea of editing and uploading the first chapter of my current WIP so many times because I hope the positive reinforcement would push me to actually finish it, and would maybe be a boost to my mental health. So idk, I might break my own rules.

19. The most interesting topic you've researched for a fic

My fics don't tend to require large amounts of research - I didn't have to research wedding planning that much for this WIP, for example, because I've been heavily involved in wedding planning a couple of times in my life. Most of what I research is location-based, so for I Just Can't Stay Here Every Yesterday, I spent a lot of time on Google Earth in Cicero (Indiana), El Paso (Texas), and Palo Alto (California), because I've never been to any of those places. I'm really interested in both dreams and memory, so I researched more about the science of them both for IJCSHEY (although, the science of dreams is elusive).

I also enjoyed researching more about Romantic literature for my current WIP. In it, Thomas is writing a PhD about water in Romantic literature, so I wanted to read a little of what I imagined he would have read in order to write it (although none of that made it into the actual fic).

Thank you for the ask! :)

[ilongfor-the-arts]

can i request a billie joe Armstrong smut? maybe where reader is a virgin and she’s over it. she manages to talk her way backstage, where she meets him, and he’s happy to help her out??

I Saw You Staring

Pairing: Billie Joe Armstrong x virgin fem! Reader

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, very VERY mild degradation, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving)

Summary: *in request*

Word Count: 5.4k

“Y/N, why do you have to be so negative? It’ll be an interesting experience at the very least!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Why don't you just go by yourself?”

My friend stumbled over to my side of the bed, where she sat on her knees and gave me a scathing look. We have discussed this subject extensively in the past. No matter how many times I questioned her, her response remained the same.

“Because I don’t want to go by myself! Who knows what’ll happen! I need a friend to go with me!”

I just wanted to enjoy the movie. I had no desire to humor my friend by pretending to consider her offer only to turn it down again.

I was sick of this conversation.

“It’s not my fault your date canceled on you! Don’t drag me into this! Go by yourself or don’t go at all!”

I whipped my head around to focus on the movie, doing my best to drown her out. My friend wouldn't give up, though, so she persisted. She was a woman with a mission.

“Oh come onnnnn Y/N! What on earth do you have against Green Day?”

She clung to my arm. I shook her off, annoyed. I never considered myself to be a pessimist, but if she mentioned the Green Day concert just one more time, I might just be tempted to slap her.

“I don’t have anything against Green Day! I just would rather not spend my Friday night being thrown around in a mosh pit while listening to a band I don’t really care for!”

I wouldn’t be able to count on both my fingers how many times I’ve heard about this concert.

“Oh come on, Y/N!”

She exclaimed, beseeching me to give in.

I didn’t cave.

She leaned in close, and the warmth of her breath made me shiver.

“Maybe you’ll find a cute boy.”

I groaned, shoving her off of me. I didn't cast her a sidelong glance. She was more likely to change the subject of the conversation the less she thought I cared.

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’ll happen when it happens.”

I made an effort to change the subject. It would be more interesting to talk about my previous relationships than the idiotic Green Day concert.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you died a virgin.”

When I finally met her cunning gaze, I knit my brow.

“What do you mean by that?”

I inquired. My friend shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m just saying it almost feels like you don’t want to do it.”

I scoffed in disbelief.

“What makes you think that?”

My friend sat cross legged on the bed, staring at the television. She was attempting to act casually, as if to broach the subject of relationships without shocking my naive and impressionable mind.

“You’re a pretty young girl with a nice personality, Y/N. If you were really worried about dying a virgin you would’ve bit the bullet and done it with some moderately nice and moderately attractive guy.”

I ran my tongue along my dry bottom lip.

“Well, it's not that I don’t want to do it, I just want my first time to be a memorable experience.”

My friend laughed loudly, piercing the relaxed atmosphere with her chuckle.

“Alright Y/N, whatever you say... But don’t you think you should be a little more experienced for your future prince charming?”

My friend wasn't entirely off base. It certainly wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a few tricks under my belt.

My eyes watched the film but failed to fully process what was being shown on screen as it dragged on.

My stomach flipped.

I could do it.

Nothing was stopping me.

“I mean…”

I bit my bottom lip.

Jesus, she was going to be absolutely floored by what I was about to say.

I've been rebuffing offers to attend her pointless Green Day concert for the past week.

And here I was about to take her up on it just to get some random guy's attention.

“Do you think there will be hot guys at the concert?”

My friend whipped her head around, her eyes beaming with unadulterated delight.

“Yes! Yes, most definitely! Does that mean you’re going?”

I shrugged.

“I guess so.”

My friend sprung upon me, exclaiming incoherent praise about how proud she was of me.

I wasn’t listening.

I was mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

I spun around in front of the large mirror, assessing my outfit.

Was it enticing enough?

It was just a plain black dress. To be fair, it did hug my body beautifully, highlighting all of my curves.

But would it really pique a guy's interest?

Maybe I needed something flashy, something that would stand out for miles. Something that screamed “give me attention!”

No, then it may have the opposite effect.

Should I not wear panties?

I already decided against wearing a bra, as the dress did enough to keep me covered and secure.

If I was in an intimate situation being completely barren under my dress would certainly be a turn on.

But I decided against the idea. I didn’t want to be worried about accidentally flashing someone while searching for a hot date.

“Y/N! How long does it take you to get your ass dressed!”

My friend screamed up the stairs.

Jesus, I suppose this will do.

“I’m coming!”

I yelled back.

-

The concert was completely sold out. The moment I stepped into the crowded auditorium, I felt claustrophobic.

How was I supposed to stand out among hundreds of other people?

My plan suddenly didn't seem so feasible. I began to lose hope as sweaty bodies pressed against me from all sides, the uncomfortableness draining my good spirits.

My friend noticed my sunken face, and quickly attempted to alleviate my sadness.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m sure someone in this crowd is staring at you. You look really hot.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Think this dress is enough?”

My friend scoffed loudly as if I was behaving totally irrationally.

“It’s more than enough! You look fucking gorgeous!”

I smiled, my mentality growing slightly more optimistic.

“Thanks a lot. I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

My friend opened her mouth to speak just as the lights began to dim.

“Oh shit! It’s starting!”

She exclaimed, her gaze refocusing on the barren stage. Everything was quiet for a moment before the deafening sound of an electric guitar shook the walls.

The band members began to come out and…

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hey! Why didn’t you tell me the leader singer was hot as fuck!”

I shouted to my friend over the din of punk rock music. She had a giant smile on her face, her voice giddy with excitement.

“I don’t know! You didn’t ask! I assumed you wouldn’t be interested!”

I didn’t sing nor did I dance the entire night, despite enjoying many of the songs. I was just staring, gawking, completely taken aback by the gorgeous lead singer.

Thank God we were in the front row.

“What’s his name!”

I screamed. We were right next to the speakers, which made it difficult to communicate.

“What?”

“I said what’s his name!”

My friend chuckled loudly.

“His name is Billie Joe Armstrong!”

The way he moved made me so… wet.

Jesus.

Jesus Christ.

How come the one guy I was interested in just so happened to be the most unattainable man in the entire stadium.

He met my gaze.

Shit!

My heart stopped.

He smirked.

He fucking smirked!

“Did he just smirk at you!”

My friend asked. But I didn’t answer. I was deep within my own mind, already imagining the crazy amount of trouble I’d get into later.

-

I ran through the crowds, looking for one man and one man only. I knew this was crazy, completely crazy. But I’d be so angry with myself if I didn’t at least try.

Two burly, bald security guards stood by the door that led backstage.

Fuck.

This was definitely a problem.

I should just give up and go home.

But I wasn’t about to give up so easily.

I swallowed, taking a deep breath to regain my composure.

“You can do this Y/N.”

I whispered to myself.

I put on my best sexy groupie demeanor and sauntered over to the two men. I hope I looked sexy and not like a total idiot.

“Hey you two.”

The two men stared down at me, their muscles bulging menacingly. I sounded surprisingly calm, my voice didn’t quiver as I spoke.

Thank God.

“Billie’s expecting me. Why don’t you guys move aside for me.”

I flashed them a sly smirk.

Their vision was obstructed by black sunglasses, faces expressionless as they stared down at me with pursed lips.

Shit.

This was going to backfire.

The man on the right pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a few numbers.

The phone looked tiny in his large hands.

Jesus, they could kill me with those fists.

“Hey boss. There’s a girl out here who says you’re expecting her.”

There was a beat of silence.

My heart was beating out of my chest.

I was dead.

I was so fucking dead.

“She’s…”

He looked me up and down.

“She’s wearing a black dress, high top converse.”

Another beat of silence.

“Alright, I’ll send her in.”

No way.

No fucking way.

Sighing deeply, the man slid his phone back into his pocket. He fully expected Billie to direct him to take me away.

“Alright little lady, I’ll let you through.”

I gave him a sensual wink as I ran my tongue over my top teeth.

That seems like something a groupie would do, right?

“Thanks.”

I threw open the door, keeping my cool until it closed and completely obscured me from the men's gaze. I breathed a sigh of relief and rested my hand on my chest.

“Jesus Christ that could’ve ended badly.”

My head fell forward, eyes closing to relax my racing heart.

“Hey baby!”

My eyes shot open. At the end of the dark hallway was the man I’d been thirsting over for the past three hours. He was smug, hands stuffed in his pockets. The dim glow of the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling made him appear eerie.

“Black dress, high top converse. I figured it was you.”

He confidently strode forward, quickly closing the gap between us.

“So, what can I do you for?”

His eyeliner was smudged, his face was caked in sweat that glimmered in the pale light, and his black hair was extremely disheveled.

He looked badass, like a fucking rockstar.

“Um…”

Jesus I was gonna sound like a fucking idiot.

But, what was the worst that could happen? He’d probably kick me to the curb tonight. Whether it’d be before sex or after sex depended on how comfortable he was with my request.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“This is probably gonna sound completely crazy.”

Billie shrugged.

“I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit.”

I exhaled.

“I’m a fucking desperate adult virgin.”

I expected him to flinch or summon security to escort me out of the building. But he just stared, his small smile on his lips unaffected by my confession.

“So, what I’m getting at is that you want me to take your virginity.”

His tone seemed slightly sarcastic.

Oh God, he was gonna laugh at me.

“I know it sounds stupid and crazy. If you say no I’ll leave right now no questions asked.”

Billie chuckled.

“I’ve done way crazier shit… come on, let’s go to my dressing room and have a chat.”

The way he emphasized the word chat indicated that he had something up his sleeve that didn’t include chatting.

He indicated his right. I cocked my head. Among the gray walls, a small black door stood out.

There was still time to back out.

Hell no, I wasn’t fucking backing out.

I strode confidently to the door, opening it and passing through the threshold.

His dressing room was modest. The only items were a red couch, cluttered counters along the back wall, and a full-length mirror to my left.

The lock clicked into place.

The walls felt like they were closing in on me, the room shrinking as my heartbeat quickened to match the intense anxiety coursing through my veins.

The room was becoming smaller.

Was it always this hot?

I ran my finger under the collar of my t-shirt in the hopes of exposing more of my hot skin to the cool air.

“I bet you didn’t expect your night to end like this.”

I swiveled my head around, my body following until I was facing him. I dropped my hand, crossing my arms over my chest to hopefully sway his eyes from perceiving my nervousness. Billie leaned his shoulder against the door frame, his hip cocked to the side.

“I’m not gonna lie to you. I went to this concert in hopes of getting laid.”

We laughed softly in unison, the muffled bustle of people practically nonexistent in the closed confines of the dressing room.

“Kick off your shoes and stay a while.”

He stated smugly. I did as I was told, bending down to untie my converse and kicking them to the side haphazardly. Billie followed suit, taking care to draw out his movements to heighten the suspense of the situation.

“I like you… you’re different.”

Billie seemed approachable for a super famous rockstar. He was smug, but not arrogant. He had a soft exterior.

“What? You mean like… different than your other groupies?”

Billie used his own weight to push himself off the wall. He began striding confidently towards me, hands stuffed in his front pockets.

“No, just different.”

He continued to walk forward. I wasn’t nervous at the idea of having sex with possibly one of the most attractive and approachable men I’ve ever met.

I was nervous about the unknown.

I was nervous about what was to come when he slipped his hands under my shirt.

“You barely know me.”

Billie came to a halt as his deft fingers found his collar. He gradually undid the top three buttons, revealing a few more inches of his pale chest. My gaze was drawn to his newly exposed skin, the simple action sending a spark of pleasure to my core. I traced my wet tongue along my chapped bottom lip, already feeling myself grow wet at the mere idea of getting hot and heavy with Billie.

Only my virgin ass would become hot and bothered by seeing a few inches of a guy’s chest.

Jesus, if I had this reaction to seeing a small fragment of his torso I hate to imagine my body’s response when he removes his pants.

I just prayed it was the intimacy of the situation that affected me more than his slow and sensual actions.

“Well…”

Billie's voice faded as his rough palm cupped my cheek, forcing my gaze to shift away from his shirt collar. The proximity of our chests generated sexual electricity between us. I was being drawn towards him by an unseen force. But my fear of the unfamiliarity of the predicament held me back.

His intense gaze made my knees weak with anticipation. I dug my nails into my forearms, my cheeks flushing hot.

“We should get to know each other a little better.”

Billie cocked his head to the side, his lips ghosting over mine.

My stomach flipped.

My nerves were set on fire by his hot breath. I closed my eyes, wanting to close the gap and taste him on my tongue. But I held back, allowing him to be the leader and exploit my vulnerability.

The blood rushed from my face to my core as he pressed his lips to mine, leaving my skin hot and my insides cold. My arms relaxed, hands tangling in his short black hair as I groaned involuntarily against his mouth.

Billies surprisingly large hands moved down my chest, halting to cup my tender breasts through my clothing. The heel of his open palm brushed against my sensitive nipples, the buds hardening into peaks under his heavy touch.

I moaned loudly, parting my lips further and inviting his tongue to push between my lips. Our tongues began clashing, the kiss transforming into a heated battle as our teeth clashed. Heavy gasps of air were blown from our nostrils, Billie’s hands moving further downwards to grip my hips. He rocked my pelvis against his growing erection, the warmth of his excitement radiating through multiple layers of clothes. His cock was halfway soft, yet it was prominent against my covered mound.

Jesus, he was bigger than I anticipated and he was still fully clothed.

This newly discovered fact made my brain hazy with desire. I wasn’t thinking straight anymore, the need to be fucked overwhelming any rational idea that crossed my brain. My open palms began to travel down his body, fingers desperately grasping at anything I could get my hands on.

My touch discovered his belt. I snagged a finger into the leather, yanking him impossibly closer to me.

“P-please.”

I whispered softly against his gloriously plush lips. Billie smirked into the kiss, delighted that he had a profound effect on me.

“Please what?”

I gulped. Billie began walking forward, pushing me backwards until my knees came into contact with the couch. He released my hips as I thudded against the cushions. Billie glared at me, and I cocked my head back to meet his gaze. His intense eyes made me clench my thighs together in an attempt to gain friction for my now throbbing cunt.

“Please what?”

He repeated himself.

His tender grasp cupped my cheek and sensually held my face. His thumb dragged along my bottom lip, his fingertip lightly grazing over my plush mouth. My hands began to shake, so I stuffed them under my thighs.

“Please fuck me.”

I murmured, my tongue failing to follow my brain's commands after that mouth watering kiss.

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

To regain my composure, I swallowed, a large lump forming inside my throat.

“I said please fuck me.”

Thank God, my mouth was at least somewhat working in my favor. Billie drew my bottom lip downward before releasing it, my lip snapping back to its original place. He smirked devilishly.

“Can I taste you first?”

Billie’s honeyed tone dripped from his lush mouth and traveled straight to my core. I pursed my lips, shifting my pelvis to hopefully relieve the painful throbbing between my thighs.

“Yes…”

I whispered, nodding my head vigorously. Billie chuckled lowly at my desperation.

“Needy, are we?”

He began to shrink until he was on his knees in front of me, placing his calloused open palms on my thighs to pry my legs open. I forced my muscles to relax in order to make the process easier for him.

I was now wishing I had gone with my original plan of not wearing panties.

Billie's palms trailed upwards, grazing over my smooth skin until he reached the soft flesh of my hips. He grasped the sides of my panties with both of his hands, tugging them downwards. I lifted my legs ever so slightly off the couch, watching intently as he removed the soaked fabric from my body. He tossed my panties to the side, his hungry eyes landing on my now exposed cunt.

My distress obscured any potential feelings of insecurity that raced through my mind. I drew my hands from beneath my thighs, reaching forward to tangle my fingers in Billie's short hair.

“Please… do something.”

I begged.

Billie, thankfully, didn't hesitate to throw my knees over his shoulders and pull me to the edge of the couch. My dress bunched up around my hips, allowing Billie easy access to bury his face between my legs.

He began kissing along my sensitive inner thighs, every pulse of my cunt setting my body ablaze with hot desire.

“Just relax baby, I promise I’ll make you feel really good.”

It was extremely hard to “just relax” when his mouth was mere inches from where I wanted him most. Defeated, I allowed my head to fall onto the back of the couch. The tender kisses do little to quell the now painful throbbing.

I traced the cracks on the white ceiling, gritting my teeth to distract my brain from the edging. When Billie noticed that I was losing passion for the current predicament, he quickly licked a long stripe between my folds, the tip of his tongue grazing over my swollen clit. I bucked my hips against his mouth, my thighs crushing his head between my legs as my breath hitched loudly in my throat. I groaned, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck!”

I exclaimed, Billie’s tongue expertly flicking my bundle of nerves, waves of pleasure coursing through my veins.

“Jesus baby, you’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Billie hollowed his cheeks to increase the suction on my swollen bud, my pelvis grinding against his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. Your pretty little pussy is gonna feel so sweet wrapped around my cock.”

I knit my brow in pleasure, my hand turning white knuckled as I increased the intensity of my grip, pulling loose strands of hair from his scalp. His painted nails dug into my plush thighs, holding my hips in place.

“Ohhh fuck. That feels so good.”

I could feel warm liquid pooling in my lower abdomen. I was close, very close, but I needed an extra push in order to reach my long awaited release.

“Billie?”

“Yes.”

He mumbled rapidly against my core, the vibrations of his throat bouncing around my insides. I moaned shakily, my train of thought falling off a cliff.

“Yes baby? What do you want? Tell me.”

Oh, right.

“Can you… can you use your fingers please?”

My words tumbled out of my mouth in a frenzied mess. Frankly, I’m surprised he was able to pick up on my request due to the rushed nature of my voice. Billie smirked against my cunt.

“Yes I can baby. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

He released his death grip on my thighs, his dull nails leaving red crescent shaped wounds in their wake. Billie trailed one hand towards my core, two fingertips prodding teasingly at my wet entrance. I utilized my newly granted freedom to buck my hips forward against his fingers.

Billie retracted his fingers a few inches, the movements of his mouth halting. I groaned at the sudden loss of contact.

“Please.”

I gulped.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Billie began to move his tongue lazily against my clit, slowly reaching his previous pace.

“Sorry baby.”

He slipped two fingers into me, thrusting them slowly against my spongy walls. My entire body convulsed, back arching off the couch in response to the in-sync movements of both his fingers and his warm mouth. I was soon reduced to a moaning mess, my body rushing towards an unstoppable orgasm.

“Billie… I’m gonna cum.”

Billie inserted another finger, stretching my walls further.

“Please cum on my mouth baby girl. I wanna taste you.”

He hollowed his cheeks once more, the suction increasing tenfold. Billie’s pace was becoming merciless, his intense actions traveling straight to the growing pool of liquid inside my lower abdomen. I trapped my lower lip under my top teeth to muffle the moans ripping through my body and piercing the quiet atmosphere of the dressing room.

With one final thrust of his calloused fingertips against my walls, I released on his face, the tension leaving my body in a sudden wave.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.”

My chest heaved as I regained my composure, Billie lazily drinking in my juices, his fingers resting inside of me.

“You ready for me to fuck you now?”

My eyelids fluttered open, my retinas taking a moment to adjust to the soft light.

Was I ready now?

I had been ready this entire night!

I swung my head forward, growing wet once more at the image of Billie’s face buried between my thighs. He retracted his mouth from my core once he was satisfied, lightly setting my shaking legs back down onto the couch.

He pulled his fingers from my wet walls, leaving me feeling empty and hungry for more. My jaw dropped as Billie brought his cum soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth erotically while igniting intense eye contact. The area around his mouth was wet with my juices, the damp skin glistening in the soft fluorescent lights.

He pulled his digits from his mouth with a soft pop, bringing his hands to the buttons on his shirt. My gaze followed his fingers as he exposed more of his skin for my eyes to take in. Tendons bulged from Billie’s ink-covered forearms as he hurriedly undid the numerous buttons.

Jesus, I never knew tattoos could turn me on this much.

My entire body stopped functioning when he exposed his dark happy trail.

I couldn’t breathe, my internal organs weren’t cooperating. I could only stare in utter disbelief.

Shit, was this really happening?

I expected to wake up at any moment with my panties soaked and my cunt throbbing.

This was a wet dream.

No way was I about to lose my virginity to fucking Billie Joe Armstrong.

“You wanna take off your dress? Or are you gonna keep gawking?”

My gaze snapped back to his eyes, cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. I removed my socks first before extending my arms behind my head, only to realize the zipper was barely out of my reach.

“Could-could you do it?”

Billie scoffed, standing to his full height.

“Sure… come here baby.”

He motioned with his index finger for me to come hither and stand before him. I gulped before rising on shaky knees, hands at my sides. Billie cocked his head sideways.

“Turn around.”

He demanded, his tone light and playful. I turned to face the back wall, my eyes glazing over the various clutter on the counters. Billie's hot fingertips grazed over the cool skin on my back as he gradually dragged the zipper on my dress downwards.

The dress fell, pooling around my ankles. My breath caught in my throat as Billie wrapped his large hands around my breasts, kneading softly. I groaned involuntarily, his hair tickling my neck as he rested his chin atop my shoulder.

“God, I wanted to fuck you the moment I caught you staring at me in the crowd.”

I inhaled shakily.

“You’re the lead singer. What was I supposed to do? Not look at you?”

Although my words were sassy, my tone was anything but. Billie scoffed.

“There’s a difference between looking and staring. Believe me, I know.”

He placed a gentle kiss on my neck, dragging his wet tongue along my jugular. His lips came to rest against my earlobe.

“I could tell by that sleazy look in your eyes that your mind was up to no good.”

I gasped as he pinched my hardened nipples between two fingers, my head falling onto his shoulder.

“Please Billie, just fuck me already.”

He pulled my back against his front. Our bare skin collided, the cool metal of his belt buckle pressed against my lower back. I could already feel my juices dripping down my inner thighs.

“Alright baby… since you asked me so politely.”

He breathed against my earlobe, his hot breath raising goosebumps along my skin.

“Bend yourself over the couch. I wanna fuck you from the back.”

I suppose I was losing my virginity in a rather kinky manner.

Whatever, I wasn’t about to complain.

I strode forward, kneeling atop the soft cushions and leaning my torso over the back of the couch. I rested my chin on the back of my hands, waited patiently for Billie to make the next move. My exposed ass and wet cunt was on display for his gaze.

The prominent sound of a clinking belt buckle cut through the quiet anticipation.

Fuck.

Shit.

This was really happening.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t want to look back.

I knew his cock was definitely mouth watering.

But the image of his thick, rock hard cock on full display had the potential to place thoughts of doubt and fear inside my brain.

So I chose to allow the suspense to consume me.

The cushions shifted under me as a second person climbed atop the couch. His open palms dragged along my sides, the subtle touches sending a chill down my spine. He stopped to tenderly wrap his hands around my fleshy hips.

“I’ll go slow at first. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

I nodded.

“Alright.”

Billie dragged the swollen tip of his cock through my folds, eliciting a low groan from the back of my throat. I dug my nails into the couch, bracing myself for what was to come. He slowly pushed in, my walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Fuck…”

I mumbled, the insertion of his cock cursed subtle waves of pain to pulse through my stretched cunt.

“Does it feel good?”

He murmured raspily.

It did.

It hurt so good.

“Yes… it feels really fucking good.”

Billie began to rock his pelvis, pulling almost completely out before burying himself balls deep within me. This process continued slowly at first, my body moving slightly with every slow thrust.

“Fuck Billie, you’re so big.”

Billie groaned.

“If you keep talking like that sweetheart I may have to fuck you harder.”

My eyes fluttered closed. He utilized his gentle grasp on my hips to pull me back to meet his slow thrusts.

It was far too slow for me.

“Please fuck me harder… I need it.”

Billie chuckled as he began to quicken his pace.

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you?”

I knit my brow.

“Yes, I am.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

Billie began yanking me backwards to meet the intense snap of his hips. My body rocked with every thrust, soft groans falling from my lips every time he buried himself into my soaking cunt.

“You’re so fucking tight Y/N. I could fuck you forever.”

I wanted him to fuck me forever. This angle was perfect for him to slam into my g spot everytime he slammed into me. The wet slapping sounds of sex bounced off the thick brick walls.

It was truly erotic.

A moment ripped straight from a porn.

“Can I cum inside you baby? Would that make you happy?”

His tone was surprisingly stable, not faltering.

I admired the self control.

I scratched my nails against the couch cushions, hoping to gain some leverage. The mention of cum made me notice the tightening pinch slowly building in my lower abdomen.

“Yes, that’d make me happy. Please chin inside of me.”

Billie’s calloused fingertips found my clit, and he began rubbing soft figure eights into my swollen bundle of nerves.

I moaned loudly, the pleasure consuming me.

I was unable to form a coherent thought.

“Fuck, your pussy is so sweet. I’m gonna cum.”

His cock twitched within my spongy walls.

I was close as well.

The subdued pain made my toes curl.

It hurt so fucking good.

The gentle movements of his finger against my clit pulled the coil tighter.

“I’m gonna cum too… please keep fucking me I wanna cum on your cock.”

Billie grunted.

“Can you cum for me?”

I clenched my abdomen, his raspy tone sending me over the edge with a pornographic moan. Billie followed shortly after, his hot cum coating my walls. I was thrown into cold water, my body overcome with a sudden onset of erotic euphoria.

I could’ve cum a third time just by the sexiness of his cum filling me to the brim.

He continued to lazily thrust into me, his fingers moving slowly around my overstimulated clit.

I came down gradually, wanting to prolong this delicious feeling for as long as humanly possible.

Billie chuckled.

“You should come to our shows more often.”

He leaned in, brushing his plush lips over my earlobe.

“Maybe next time I’ll tie you up.”

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

[softukiyos]

the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 -- 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it's any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

You couldn't help but laugh, and you glanced over at the camera pointed at you and Minho, with your mutual friend, Han Jisung, directing the operation. Right, both you and Minho would receive a hundred dollars if you participated in his little social experiment about love. Of course, he'd wanted the two of you to do it for free, but neither of you would budge unless there was at least a little bit of monetary incentive. You loved Jisung, you really did, but you weren't going to willingly spend time with Minho unless there was something else to gain. 

“Alright, let's get started before the two of you claw at each other's throats like a pair of angry cats,” Jisung clapped his hands together as he stepped out from behind the camera, “I assume the two of you have a basic idea of the experiment?”

“Of course not, Sungie. It's not like you ran through your proposal to me through FaceTime twenty thousand times before presenting it to your professors,” Minho replied with a pleasant smile. 

“And it's not like I read through your written proposal double that amount before you had the courage to hand it in,” you supplied with a similarly saccharine expression. 

Jisung sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, “Why are the two of you genuinely the nicest people I’ve ever met but somehow turn into demons when you’re together?” He muttered, mostly to himself. 

“It’s not too late to get rid of us and find some other test subjects, Sungie,” you called out with a smile, “We know we’re hard to handle.”

“No way. The two of you are perfect for this project, and I’m not going to let either of you slip out of my fingers after I worked so hard to get you two here,” Jisung refused your offer. Clearing his throat, he decided to begin, not wanting to give either of you more time to get hostile.

“Alright, so you’re both familiar with the basics. The experiment will take about one month, and the data will be recorded in these notebooks,” he said, the camera behind him recording his verbal instructions as he walked forward and handed both you and Minho a small, leather bound notebook, “These will serve as your diaries for the duration of the test.” 

Minho perused through the empty lined pages with a snort, “What are we supposed to do, write our undying confessions on these pages?”

“You’re going to write your honest feelings about each other. And by honest, I mean really do mean honest. Neither of you are ever going to read what the other person writes about you, so you don’t have to worry about your reputation or whatever,” Jisung explained, “I’ll be extrapolating information from your entries and your entries only.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at Minho as he closed the book and and leaned back in his seat, “So that’s it, right? We date for a month and write down whether we still hate each other after every encounter?”

Jisung threw a weary glare at him, “Theoretically, yes. The purpose of this experiment is to see if the actions of love will foster any actual feelings of love to appear even if there weren’t any in the first place. The two of you will go on dates, leave each other cute notes, anything that you would do with your significant other. And after each of these, you will write down a diary entry about how you feel about that person. At the end of the month, I’ll collect the two notebooks to write my thesis. Any questions?”

You glanced at Minho, who raised a questioning eyebrow at you as if waiting for you to speak first. After a long moment of palpable silence, your lips curved into a smile, “A bold move of you to find the two people least likely to develop feelings for each other, Sungie.”

Jisung dropped his psychology major professionalism for a moment and smirked, “You know I never half-ass anything. So no questions?”

Minho raised his hand obnoxiously, speaking before Jisung even bothered to call on him, “What happens if one of us falls for the other? Do we win something?”

“No, you competitive little shit. No one is winning or losing anything. This experiment is just to document the progression of romantic feelings or lack thereof,” Jisung glared at his best friend, “You’re not trying to prevent yourself from changing your feelings about the person one way or the other, got it?”

But Minho was no longer paying attention to him, his annoyingly beautiful smile now aimed at you across the table, “You’re going to fall in love with me so quickly, Sungie’s little experiment will be over in a week.”

Your competitive edged roared to life at the provocation, and you smirked, flipping the pen around your fingers, “Your diary is going to be filled with love letters to me once I’m through with you.”

“Oh dear,” Jisung groaned to himself as he walked over to shut off the camera, a weary expression visible on his face.

This was going to be a very long month. 

i.

You never once thought there would come a day that you would walk out of your apartment to see Minho waiting for you, nonchalantly leaning against his blood red accented motorcycle and his famous leather jacket.

“What is this?” You asked suspiciously, as if poking at his intentions with a ten foot pole. 

Minho rolled his eyes, “I'm taking you to class? Why else would I have dragged myself out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“You're taking me to class on this?” You gestured toward the motorcycle with a hint of disdain, but Minho saw right through you, his lips curling in a smug smile.

“There's no need to be scared, baby,” he sauntered towards you and patted your head, “I'll always protect you.”

Scowling, you swatted his hand away, “Don't do that. It's so weird,” you huffed, fixing your hair. 

“You know that's the point of this whole damn thing, right?” Minho said with a hint of annoyance as he felt churlishly irritated by your constant resistance. Did you really hate him that much?

“No, the point is to do these actions in a genuine and heartfelt manner. Everything you say is fake,” you said plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Minho couldn't help but scoff, “How is it supposed to be genuine when I don't feel anything for you?”

“You start off with basic friendship. That's not as hard, right?” You said as you reached into your large bag and pulled out a container of milk bread, “Here. This is my Day 1 gift for you.”

Minho’s face went slack as he took the container gingerly, treating it like a live explosive, “You made this?”

“Yeah, made two loaves last night,” you answered, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. Okay, this was awkward, and you couldn't help but cringe as you extended your hand, “If you don't like it, I can take it back—”

“Hell no,” Minho yanked his arms away from yours and pulled the plastic container to his chest defensively, “You gave it to me, so it's mine!”

You blinked in surprise, your hand falling to your side, “I see,” you said before shifting on your heels and nodding, “Okay, I'll see you later, whenever that is,” you took the chance for a quick escape, turning and beginning to walk to class. 

“Wait.”

A gasp left your lips as Minho grabbed your wrist, making you turn back around to face him, “I have a helmet for you, okay? And I'll drive slower,” he muttered, his eyes trained on the floor and darting around anxiously, “I won't get you hurt, I promise." 

You studied him carefully, his tone of voice, his posture, anything that would give away some hidden agenda, but there was none. Looking down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you relented, "Alright, I'll go with you." 

Minho nodded, leading you over to his motorcycle and grabbing the extra helmet from behind. Before you could take it from him, he moved it out of your grasp, "Have you ever even used a motorcycle helmet before? If you put it on wrong, it's not going to do you any good," he said snappishly as he adjusted a few of the straps and fitted it onto your head. 

Unconsciously, you held your breath as he leaned towards you, slipping a finger between the strap and your chin before snapping it shut, "It's not too tight, yeah?" he asked as he pulled away, and you could only shake your head mutely, "Good." 

Swinging a leg over, he climbed onto his motorcycle, easily putting his own helmet on before turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor, "Here. Climb on behind me." 

You eyed the motorcycle with a hint of disdain as you approached it, “And what am I supposed to hold onto so I don’t fall to my untimely death?” You asked dryly.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong question to ask, and the gleam apparent in Minho’s eyes told you that, despite his surprising show of kindness, Lee Minho was still Lee Minho, and Lee Minho was a fucking asshole.

“Why, you hold onto me, of course,” he said pleasantly, “Unless, you’d rather fall off the bike and shatter your bones. The other option is to walk, but seeing that it’s almost 8:30 already, you’d probably end up being late.”

Clenching your jaw so hard you were sure it was going to be sore for days, you stalked over to the motorcycle and swung your leg over it, climbing on haphazardly. You’ve seen the movies; you knew how you were supposed to ride a motorcycle from behind, and your arms tentatively wrapped around Minho’s midriff, avoiding as much bodily contact as possible.

Minho snorted, “You know, if you hold on like that, you’re gonna fall off anyways.”

“Mind your own business--fuck!” A squeak left your lips as Minho suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward. Out of pure instinct, your arms tightened around him, and you buried your face in his back. The time could not have been more perfect, and you felt a rush of anger as you realized that he was just messing with you, “Don’t fucking do that!”

The asshole just laughed, “Aw, come on, I wouldn’t have done it for real. But you seriously need to hold on, okay?”

You huffed, scowling underneath the helmet as you kept your arms locked around his waist, begrudgingly learning your lesson, “Just drive.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Minho revved the engine again and started the journey, albeit with a much smoother start as the two of you began to speed down the street and towards the literature building. 

When you arrived at your destination with Minho pulling up right to the front of the building, you were practically squeezing him like a life-sized plushie, your eyes squeezed shut and your face smushed into his leather jacket.

“You can let go now, darling,” he chuckled as he used his foot to push out the kickstand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you detached from him like two magnets of the same pole, getting off the motorcycle. 

“I am--” you gasped for breath as you yanked off your helmet, “never doing that again.”

Minho laughed as he took the helmet from you and put it in the container at the back of his bike, “Hey, you’re here with five minutes to spare! If anything, you should be thanking me, sweetheart.”

Your glare was frightening as you finally relented with a huff, “I’m grateful for the ride here, but next time, no motorcycle, please.”

“Next time? Who said anything about a next time?” The boy positively giggled as you realized your mistake. Minho never said anything about a next time! What were you thinking? Now, he probably thought you wanted him to take you to school every morning, which was absolutely not the case!

“Oh, whatever!” You snapped, utterly fed up as you threw up your hands in total exasperation and marched up the staircase without so much as a goodbye. 

Minho’s smug laughter echoed in your ears as you stepped into the building, “Love you too, sweetheart!” 

~

(name): day 1 

action(s): drive to school 

notes: utterly infuriating. an arrogant, smug, flirtatious little shit that thinks he’s the king of the world. he brought his motorcycle out of the blue to pick me up when he knows i flipped out the last time i rode one with jisung (yes, sungie, i am still mad). 

i did get to class early though, because of him, and that’s rare for me. silver linings, i guess.

~

lee minho: day 1 

action(s): drive to school

notes: a stuck up little princess as always, whining and complaining about every little thing that doesn’t go her way. shouldn’t she be happy enough that i came to take her to her class? nope, she just kicked up a fuss about it being a motorcycle. did she think i was going to remember when she had a meltdown riding it last time? (it was funny, sungie, don’t mind her.) i barely got so much of a thank you when i got her to the lit building, early, no less.

the milk bread was good, though. maybe i’ll try to convince her to make me another loaf.

ii. 

First dates were always weird. First dates were even weirder when you were about to go out with your fake-social-experiment boyfriend that you didn’t even like.

What were you supposed to even wear? Were you supposed to dress to impress (not that Minho would ever be impressed with anything you do)? Or were you supposed to dress like you just rolled out of bed? In the end, you opted for something in between the two extremes, hoping that you weren’t going to face the embarrassment of being over or underdressed.

Luckily, Minho didn’t change his daily look too much for the date, opting for a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and--of course--the leather jacket he never left home without. At this point, you were honestly convinced that Minho was having some sort of romantic relationship with that jacket.

But what was out of the ordinary was the small bouquet of vibrant carnations that he held in one hand as he browsed his phone with the other. They looked wildly out of place in comparison to the rest of his get up, and the contrast was so amusing to you that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him.

“Are those flowers for me?” You asked sweetly, clicking your heels. Minho glanced up from his phone, his eyes darting up and down, and you knew he was assessing your outfit the way you had assessed his. 

“No, these are for my other social experiment girlfriend,” he said with a dry smile, handing them to you, “I heard from Jisung that you hate flowers, so of course I had to get you a bouquet for our special day.”

“Carnations are actually my favorite type of flower, so thank you very much,” you replied, sniffing at the bouquet before glancing around, “Where’s your motorcycle again? In maintenance?”

Minho’s face twitched for a split second before he nodded, “Yeah, I scratched it up real bad. We can just take the bus again.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you said nothing more about the topic as the two of you walked to the nearest bus stations. After the first day, you had never seen Minho’s motorcycle again despite the fact that he walks you to your class almost every other day (he skips the days when he has work). What was even more suspicious was that he always had an excuse for not bringing it: he crashed it and it needs maintenance, he forgot to fill the gas tank, Jisung was borrowing it, etc. 

They weren’t bad excuses, but it’s been almost a week, and you were beginning to suspect that there was more to the missing motorcycle than he was telling you.

“Who recommended this place?” Minho asked as you took the seat at the station and he leaned against the wall.

“Jisung did, actually,” you laughed a little, pulling out your phone and clicking into the link of the restaurant Jisung had sent you, showing it to Minho.

The boy scrunched his nose with distaste as he glanced at the restaurant images, “Did you really think it was wise to leave our first date in the hands of the man who’s never actually had one successful date before?” 

“He said it was a control variable or whatever,” you said, placing your phone back in your purse, “Besides, I checked the reviews, and most of them only had good things to say. Why? Is this not your ideal first date?”

Minho scoffed, lips curling into a smirk, “I don’t really do first dates, sweetheart.”

“Oh? So what do you do?” You asked with a hint of annoyance clear in your tone, “One night stands?”

The boy shrugged, “Mostly. Why put the effort to try and create something concrete when it’ll fall apart soon enough anyway?”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his words, once again being hit with the realization that you and Minho were as different as people came, “That’s a rather morbid way of looking at things.”

“It’s realistic and it’s safe. That’s all I really need at this moment,” Minho said shortly as his eyes darted down the street, and he pushed himself off the wall, “The bus is here. Let’s go.”

Without stopping to wait for you, he walked to the edge of the sidewalk as the bus pulled up to greet him. There was nothing you could do but silently follow him, wondering what Minho had gone through to adopt such a cynical mindset about love. 

“What about you?” Minho asked rather suddenly when the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, settled into your table, and were already waiting for your food to arrive. There had been such a long interval of time between the previous conversation and the current one that you didn’t even process the intention of his question for a long moment.

“I’m sorry?”

Minho bit his lip, and he looked like he was regretting the fact that he couldn’t contain his curiosity, “What are your experiences with first dates?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table, “You have had a few, right?”

With a questioning eyebrow, you swirled the small amount of red wine in your glass, “I’m not quite sure whether your question is a genuine one or just another insult.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Minho asked innocently. 

Rolling your eyes, you sipped at your wine before answering, "I've had a few first dates, fewer seconds, and no thirds." 

Minho considered your words, "What went wrong? Clashing personalities? Scheduling conflicts?" 

You scowled, placing down your glass as you grit your teeth, "You're a nosy little shit, aren't you?" 

“Hey,” Minho raised his arms in mock surrender, “if I'm about to be your social experiment boyfriend for a month, I should know what I'm getting into, for my sake and yours.”

Leveling a withered glare at him, you couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Minho had a point. If the two of you couldn't be honest with each other, this experiment wouldn't work. Like the mastermind had said early on, honesty was a key part of the project. Damn you, Han Jisung. 

“Eventually, every man gets annoyed by the fact that they'll always be second in importance,” you finally spoke as you swirl the wine again, “They say they understand, but in the end, they'll never settle for a woman who puts their passions over their relationships. They want attentiveness, constant coddling, constant affection. They want to be nagged, they want me to be the one that messages first, and I'm just not the type.”

For the first time, Minho’s gaze upon you was devoid of arrogance and that giant defensive wall he’d always had up. His expression had turned almost thoughtful in a way, as if he was really looking at you, really trying to see you for who you were, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his stare, smiling bitterly, “Did I scare you off, too?”

Minho seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in, a laugh leaving his lips, “Nah, princess, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled, putting down his wine glass as he spoke again, “It’s not your fault that they felt inferior dating someone that was more driven than them. It’s their loss, honestly.”

“Really?” You failed to hide your surprise, not expecting to find support in someone that was so different from you.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to hinder you from doing the things you love. You’re supposed to do them in tandem and support each other during the process,” Minho said, and as you searched for the punchline, for the part of the conversation where Minho would bark out a scathing laugh and point at your disappointed face, you realized there was none. You suddenly had a strange revelation that you may have misjudged the man sitting across from you. 

“If you have such a wise impression about love, why do you never try it out?” You asked softly, studying his expression like always, but you stopped searching for something malicious about him, since the search had been fruitless so far. Now, you were simply curious, slowly trying to learn more about him.

Minho shrugged with a wry smile, “Just because the solution exists in theory doesn't mean it truly exists.” 

"You don't think you'll ever find someone like that?" You asked. 

"Well, if they're out there somewhere, they haven't shown up in my life yet, so..." Minho trailed off, his expression rather nonchalant at first glance, but you were slowly getting better at reading him. He felt wronged, probably by someone in the past that didn't support his endeavors. 

You let the conversation drop as your food finally arrived, and the seriousness of the evening seemed to dissipate as the food took precedence. When the bill was finally paid (the two of you split it after a long discussion), you walked out with your arm looped around Minho's, and despite yourself, you didn't hate it all that much. 

“So, we're gonna beat the shit out of Jisung for forcing us to go to such an expensive restaurant, right?” Minho hummed as the two of you walked back to your apartment. You tried not to focus on the fact that Minho hadn't pulled his arm away, keeping you snug against his side. 

“I like the way you think,” you laughed, your heels clicking against the ground, “Tell you what, how about the next date, you pick somewhere you normally go to in your free time, and I’ll do the same for the date after. That way, we don’t have to spend an atrocious amount of money unless we want to.”

Minho stopped short, and for a minute, you wondered if you’d overstepped his boundaries. Then, he turned to look at you, a surprised, almost soft, smile on his face.

“You want to see me that much?”

It would’ve been so easy to dismiss his words as sarcastic teasing, like the rest of your conversations have been for the past year that you’ve known each other. But his tone, his expression, it felt almost genuine, like he was pleasantly surprised that you were willingly offering up your own time to spend it with him.

And at that notion, your cheeks felt unnaturally hot as you averted your eyes, “Well, the experiment is supposed to last a month,” you mumbled, finding a very interesting divot in the ground, “What type of social experiment girlfriend would I be if we only went on one date?”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the mention of the experiment, but he still felt that weird, fluttery feeling nonetheless. He knew you were probably just too shy to admit anything truthful to his question, and he didn’t fault you for it. It wasn’t like he was being very honest either.

“Well, I rather enjoy our little escapades, so I suppose I can spare a little effort to plan the next date,” Minho said with faux weariness, making you elbow his side playfully. 

“I swear, if you drag me to another horror house like you did when we went out with Jisung--”

Minho let out a laugh at the memory, “Didn’t you punch the zombie that jumped out near the end?”

“Not a word.”

“And I think you screamed at one of the ghosts, too?”

You frowned, reaching up and messing up his perfectly styled hair, “Not a word!”

Minho didn’t take any of your threats to heart, teasing you relentlessly about that incident all the way back to your apartment, but to be totally honest, you didn’t mind it all that much.

~

(name): day 6

action(s): first date (control)

notes: the date wasn’t bad except for the ridiculous pricing. we actually had rather interesting conversations about our interests, outlooks on life, and had a rather heated argument about whether prisoner of azkaban or the order of the phoenix was the best harry potter book. 

minho’s nice. i know you’re probably laughing at me as you read this, future jisung. but he’s nice. the flowers he got were really pretty. he’s a good listener, too, and he doesn’t give false comforts. he tells it to me as it is, whether it’s good or bad. i like that about him. he also looked really good for the date, but that’s rather surface level, right? whatever. i hope this is even minutely useful to your project, jisung, bcs it doesn’t feel like it’ll be much help.

~

lee minho: day 6 

action(s): first date 

notes: han jisung. the meal was $150 and we both ordered the cheapest things on the menu. fucc you. 

the date was alright, though. (name) actually got dressed up for the date, so i felt a little bad. she’s putting more effort into this project than i thought she would, and i don’t know whether its because she genuinely wants to know me better, or if its bcs it’s your project, jisung. (i know she used to like you, it was obvious). whatever. she’s easy to talk to when we’re not at each other’s throats like usual. she makes me feel understood, which is a good feeling i guess. 

this absolutely does not mean anything special. it just means that she’s not as stuck up as i thought she was. the bar is still incredibly low.

i wonder where i should take her for our next date. the horror house is tempting, but she’s probably going to get sued if she shows her face there ever again. oh well, i’ll figure it out.

iii. 

“Why are we heading towards the direction of the horror house?”

“I promise you, sweetheart, it’s not the horror house,” Minho said for the umpteenth time as the two of you walked down the busy downtown streets together.

You remained suspicious, and as a chill blew towards you, the winter wind seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter, you brought your hands to your mouth, blowing on them in an attempt to get them warm.

Minho let out a dramatic sigh at the sound of your silence, “Do you have any faith in me at all?” He asked, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together before shoving it in his coat pocket without faltering for a moment.

He seemed unfazed, oblivious even as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk, but you...your poor heart did a feeble stutter that certainly wasn’t the product of any social experiment. You knew the feeling well enough from your past experiences, and the fact that it emerged right at this moment made you worry.

“What?” Minho’s voice invaded your thoughts as he followed your line of sight to his coat pocket, where your hand was snugly fitted inside his. 

You tried your best to salvage what was left of your pride, “Aren’t my hands cold?” You asked weakly, “You don’t have to hold them.”

“Yes, your hands are like fucking ice, that’s why I’m trying to warm one of them up, dummy,” Minho rolled his eyes at your lame question before turning to check on the light to make sure it was still on red, “We’re almost there. The place is cozy, I promise.”

Nodding, you slowly felt your composure return to you, “As long as we get out of this cold, I'd consider it a successful date.”

“Oh dear, you've just ruined my plans for a picnic up in the mountains,” Minho said with a deadpan expression just as the light turned green.

“You're ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there wasn't any bite behind your words anymore, and Minho’s jabs at you had slowly lost that hard edge to them. Could it be possible that the two of you were really warming up to each other?

It was true that the two of you were getting along better, and in tandem, you began to be more present in each other’s lives. Minho still walked you to school on the days that he didn't have work. In return, it's become a normal routine for you to make two loaves of milk bread every other day since Minho always devoured his portion ridiculous quickly. 

Not in a romantic way, absolutely not. Both of you would cringe at the very idea. But as tolerant friends, maybe. 

“Ah! Here we are,” Minho said pleasantly as he guided you off the busy street into a smaller, quieter alleyway filled with various cafes and antique shops.

“A cafe date?” You smiled, “I didn't know that was your style.”

Minho stopped short at a particular cafe, taking his hand and yours out of his pocket as he reached forward to open the door, “Well, it's not just any cafe.”

You quickly realized exactly what he meant as you walked in, your eyes lighting up with pure elation and joy as you squealed, “It’s a cat cafe!” 

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s eyes lit up from behind you as he shut the door, keeping the winter cold out of the cozy establishment, “You like cats?” He never knew that about you.

“Like cats? I love them!” You practically gushed as you shrugged off your large coat and Minho signaled for a party of two, greeting a few of the waiters with a suspicious familiarity. 

“Do you come here often?” You asked curiously as the two of you found a nice little corner to sit down in, complete with beanbags, blankets, and little wooden surfaces that were meant to serve as tables.

Minho almost didn't need to answer your question, since the moment he sat down, four cats passed over towards him, the sound of gentle meows filling your ears. You didn't think you'd be able to hear anything more sweet, until you were proven wrong when Minho let out a soft giggle, his expression unbelievably fond as he stretched out his hand, petting their heads and scratching their ears.

When had you ever heard Minho giggle? No, not that psychotic little witch giggle he did when he was feeling diabolical. This childish, almost innocent giggle that burst from his lips. 

“I come here at least twice a week,” he said as one of the kittens clambered into his lap, “I have three cats back at home with my family, and when I miss them, I come here.”

You nodded, surprised that he was divulging information about him without being prompted, but you didn’t mind it one bit, “That’s nice. I’m sure they miss you, too,” you said, smiling as one of the more curious cats went over to you, sniffing at your hand before pressing their head against your palm.

“I’m sure they do. I was basically their servant,” Minho laughed before turning to you, “Do you have pets?”

“Oh, I wish,” your voice was forlorn and wistful as you began to rub the cat’s belly, feeling a rush of pride as they laid on their side. It was rare for any cat to do such a thing, and you treasured the moment dearly, “I had a kitten when I was very, very young, but they died only a few months after we got them. I haven’t been able to muster the courage to adopt another pet since.”

Minho pouted at the way your voice trailed off, your expression faraway, and he suddenly felt an urge to gift you a kitten right then and there just to make you smile. He was long used to seeing you angry, he was getting used to seeing you when you were at peace and smiling, but he’d never actually seen you look so wistfully sad before. 

“Well, you’re always welcome to use my membership card here if you need a break from school,” he offered rather awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the cats so he wouldn’t have to feel the brunt of your expression, which was probably weirded out. 

“You’d let me?” You sounded hopeful, giggling to yourself as a cat jumped into your lap, curling up and burrowing against your stomach.

Minho smiled, turning his head to see the way you were coddling the little kitten, stroking her fur with utmost delicacy and with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He was suddenly hit with the realization that you were incredibly beautiful, and his brain almost immediately imploded.

Wait, what? Lee Minho?! Who the fuck are you turning into?!

Unaware of his current struggle, you glanced at him when you didn’t receive an answer, and he scrambled to clear his throat, “O-of course,” he said, “You’d get a 15% discount on drinks. Super handy.” 

If you noticed his strange behavior, you didn't comment or make a face, only gazing down at the kitten in your lap as you asked teasingly,, “Does this girlfriend benefit only last the month?”

It was a joke, not at all different from the ones both of you made on a daily basis, making jabs at your rather intriguing situation, this one seemed to really hit Minho. What was going to happen when the month ends? Will the two of you go back to hating each other and fighting every moment of the day? Will all these little acts of love, the way you would occasionally drop off a bento box at his dance studio and the way he’d pick you up after your late night classes so he could make sure you were safe, would that all disappear like a dream?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”

Minho blinked out of his daydream, tilting his head towards you to see you already looking at him with a concerned smile, “Are you alright? You seemed pretty faraway.”

“Nah, I’m good. I just remembered that I have a coding assignment due tonight,” he lied, a light tinge of rouge on his cheeks. 

“What?!” you yelped, scaring the cat in your lap as they meowed in discontent, jumping off you, “We should get going then--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Minho grabbed your arm as you stood up, and with your balance tilted, you fell back onto the beanbag couch, although this time, you were much closer to Minho than you originally were. To stabilize yourself, your hand jutted out to press against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat.

What sort of black magic was Han Jisung doing to him with this experiment?

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, your embarrassment clearly visible as you tried to push away from him, but Minho kept you close until the two of you were almost cuddling on the beanbag couch. 

Minho only hummed, feigning nonchalance even as his heart was doing strange backflips in his chest, “It’s fine. You’re still cold, right? I saw you shivering a bit. You can just sit here,” he said, shrugging off his coat and placing it over your legs.

“I guess...thank you,” you said rather quietly, not trusting your voice to hide the emotions that were raging in your heart: the confusion, the giddiness, the childlike excitement, and the fear, “But what about your assignment--”

“Don’t worry,” he patted your head lightly, “It’s just a simple one. Won’t take more than an hour. I’ll just do it when I get home.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Minho emphasized the last word with a teasing smile, his heart slowly coming to terms with these new, tingling emotions that he was feeling, “I never knew I’d ever experience you babying me.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you smacked his arm, “Shut up!” You complained, bringing his coat up to your face and shielding yourself, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t flunk out of school!”

“Don’t lie, you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief only to receive another angry smack on the arm.

“You wish. I don’t fall in love with jerks like you.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I am honored by the attention,” he said with a teasing smile as he nudged your shoulder. 

Another kitten came to your position, rubbing against your thigh as you petted their little head, “You better be,” you muttered almost to yourself, “After all the bentos I’ve made for you this last week.”

Minho let out a yawn, stretching out his arms and very cautiously wrapping one around your shoulders. To his luck or misfortune, you were too enamored by the kitten to notice, and you curled into his side without much consideration. The poor boy wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to notice and confront him about it, or whether he should be allowed to feel a sense of fondness knowing that you were dropping the defensive walls around your heart with him.

He won’t tell you, but he was truly honored to be cared by you, to experience your worry, your encouragement, and your little acts of love. It came so naturally to you that you probably didn’t even hold any of those actions to any significance, but to him, the one who was always the lone wolf, the one who was always defined by his looks before his personality, it was nice to be truly seen by someone. 

Even if it wasn’t going to last. 

iv.

Lee Minho was late, and you were going to kick his ass if you didn't happen to be frozen by the time he arrived. 

You stood outside of the computer science building awkwardly, trying not to focus on the weird glances from the students walking in and out, all of whom were obviously wondering what a literature freak was doing at the center hub of the sciences. It was absolutely mortifying, and you briefly wondered if Minho ever got such stares while he waited for you outside of your building. If he did, well, you felt slightly more grateful than you did previously.

“Hey! (name), right?” 

You looked up with panic in your eyes as you quickly tracked the sound of the voice to one familiar stranger, a particular boy on campus that you never actually ever thought you'd have the opportunity to speak to.

“That's me, and I assume you're Hyunjin,” you said, getting straight past formalities. After all, you weren't really in the mood for chitter-chatter. You were just in the mood for a nice hot chocolate to warm your body. 

But unfortunately for you, Hyunjin’s disarming smile was a clear indicator that there were no escape routes plausible, “Wow, no wonder Minho snatched you up quick.”

If you had a tail, it would've bristled at this very moment, “Excuse me?” You asked, keeping your tone decidedly cordial.

Hyunjin’s smile only widened, “What is he like as a boyfriend? Does he treat you well? Or are you just another piece of disposable garbage for him like every other girl he’s fucked?” 

The final question shouldn't have fazed you, but it did. Why did the idea of such a thing send your heart into cardiac arrest? Why did it scare you so much, when you knew none of this was real? Wasn't it all just manufactured by the conditions of the experiment?

Your face must've given away more than you thought, because Hyunjin’s cheshire-like grin only widened as he took your vulnerability as a chance, “You don't have to be with him, you know. Don't you think we'd get along a little better—”

“Really fucking low of you to be trying to hit on your friend’s girl,” a hand suddenly snaked around your waist from behind, making you gasp as you felt your back pulled against someone's firm chest.

“Especially my girl,” Minho’s eyes showed not a hint of amusement or politeness as he rested his chin on your shoulder almost protectively, as if daring Hyunjin to try again.

Hyunjin regarded the two of you with cautious intrigue, his eyes darting from Minho’s hand on your waist to his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just wanted to make sure you know how lucky you are,” he smiled at Minho pleasantly, leaning forwards as his eyes sparkled when they met yours. Now, you may dislike Hyunjin, but you couldn't deny his beauty, and at such a distance, you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered as he purred, “And how easily that luck can be taken away from you.”

Minho bared his lips in a threatening snarl from behind you, making Hyunjin scoff as he turned away from the two of you without another word. A moment of tense silence screamed in the air before you cleared your throat awkwardly. This was definitely not a good way to start off a date.

“Well, that was weird,” you laughed, detangling yourself from Minho’s hold so you could face him, “I never thought I’d see the day where Hwang Hyunjin would flirt with me while he’s sober.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Minho suddenly spit out with a surprising amount of vitriol in his tone, enough to fluster you for a moment, “Going after someone who’s obviously dating, he just doesn’t have any shame anymore! Plus, I was literally walking behind you. He definitely saw me before he made a move.”

Finding his behavior utterly bizarre, you stared at him for a long moment before you could even speak, “Are you...pretending to be jealous?”

“What?” Minho blinked, as if suddenly realizing that you were still there witnessing the extent of his ranting. And then, your question hit him like a ton of bricks, “What the fuck? I’m not pretending to be jealous, I--”

He stopped himself before he could do any more verbal damage to his own reputation, but inside, his head in shambles.

I’m not pretending to be jealous, I am jealous. 

What was happening to him?

From the look on your face, Minho could tell you were a mixture of confused and suspicious, but you didn’t press him for more details or to finish his sentence. That was one thing he really appreciated about you. If he didn’t elaborate on his words, you trusted that he didn't say more because it simply didn't need to be said. 

"Well, we should probably get going," you said, slipping your arm around his, "I was freezing my ass out here waiting for you." 

"Then, perish." 

"You're the worst social experiment boyfriend I've ever had!" You complained, your pout clear from the sound of your voice as Minho let you lead him to whatever date surprise you had in mind. 

“I’m the only social experiment boyfriend you’ve ever had,” he pointed out reasonably, resting his head on yours while you waited for the traffic light to change. 

You let out a huff, trying to push him off you, but it was rather fruitless to make Minho do anything, really, “You’re still the worst,” you said, trying to tickle your way out of the situation.

Minho only chuckled. Two could play at this game, he thought smugly as your attacks failed and he wrapped his arms around you from the side, pulling you snug against him so he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with his hair and making you shriek.

“Lee Minho, I swear to God!” Despite the slurry of curse words that left your mouth, you were laughing and made no genuine attempts to pull away from him. You’ve noticed over the last few weeks that Minho was never one for blatant physical affection, but he was being abnormally clinging today. 

“Admit it, kitten,” he teased, peeking up at your expression as he smiled, “I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

The world around you seemed to freeze as the weight of that question fully sunk in. Was Minho the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? You thought back to every awkward first date, every time the guy looked strangely disappointed when you said you wanted to head home by yourself, every time one of them awkwardly mentioned that they wanted you to cheer them on at the expense of your own passions. You thought through all of those memories before you realized oh my god Minho was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

“Hmm? Oh, come on, I was kidding,” Minho seemed oblivious to your plight as he took your silence as a rejection, beginning to let go. 

“You are.”

The words slipped out of your lips before you even realized what you had said. Minho’s eyes widened rather comically as he tried to make sure he was making the right mental connections in his head.

“I am?” He repeated slowly.

“You are...the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you muttered the last half, your face burning as if you’d eaten a whole bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. 

Minho blinked, his entire system short-circuiting.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly shuffling on the heels of your feet before you found your escape, “Oh, green light! Let's get moving!” Your voice was bright and overly cheery as if you didn't just drop a bombshell of a revelation on both Minho and yourself. 

Minho practically stumbled over his own feet to catch up to you, “H-hey!” He grabbed your hand before you could pass the halfway point of the large intersection, where the light was manually turned red by one of the buses.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and back up at his face before answering softly, “Thanks.”

He nodded in response, trying not to put too much attention to the way your fingers curled around his, trying not to put too much attention to the way your hand fit in his, and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, you brought me to the place you like to go to destress, so I figured I would do the same,” you answered, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like Jisung’s access card to the music building.

“Tell me you didn't steal Jisung's access card.”

“It's not stealing if I'm returning it before he knows what happened,” you shrugged.

“Um, yes it is.”

You glanced up at him with a playful smile, “You gonna rat me out, darling?”

That name of endearment shouldn't have affected him so much, but it did, and he physically had to restrain himself from holding your hand tighter as he scoffed, “I'm no snitch, especially not when it comes to my beautiful social experiment girlfriend.” 

You let out a laugh, “You’re definitely the king of heart fluttering pet names.”

The rest of the walk to the music building was filled with idle chatter as the two of you slowly got back into the rhythm of your usual banter. At some moments, it was even easy to forget about the way you’d hug his arm to your chest as if shielding yourself from the cold. It was even easy to forget about the way his hand would gently squeeze yours if he felt you shiver too violently beside him, a silent check up on you. It was far too easy to call all of these little actions as normal, as if he was actually your boyfriend. 

“Are you sure we're not going to get caught?” Minho asked as the two of you walked to the side door of the music building. Although, he didn't sound very concerned about potentially getting in trouble, only slightly curious. 

You slid Jisung’s card into the reader and the door unlocked with a click, “I've done this for years. Even if people do check the rooms, there's lot of places to hide.”

The boy only chuckled, holding the door open so the two of you could walk in and escape from the biting winter cold. After wiping off your shoes using the doormat, you gingerly took his hand again and lead him up the stairs to the end of the hall where you pulled him into a dark room.

“Kitten, if you wanted to find a private little place for us to have some fun, we didn’t need to go all the way to the music room,” Minho said, amused, “I know plenty of lockable closets around the campus—”

“That’s so gross,” you said as you turned on the light, revealing that the two of you were in one of the group music rooms, with a piano sitting at the center of the room and a couple of instruments stored on the sides. 

Minho placed a hand on his heart, “Mean,” he huffed accusingly at you. He was mostly kidding, of course, but a part of him felt a genuine despair at the fact that you didn't seem to be remotely flustered or enticed by the idea of being with him in that way, with such intimacy. 

“Don't worry, Min. There will be plenty of fish out there desperate to jump into your arms soon enough,” you flashed him a wry smile as you grabbed one of the guitar cases and brought it to the carpet near the piano.

“Min?” He repeated, the nickname making him feel slightly better even as your words dampened his spirits. Did you really think he would be that eager to go back to his normal “no-strings-attached” routine after this month? 

For the first time, you looked a little flustered as you sat down on the soft carpet, opening the guitar case with a few clicks of the locks, “Sorry. Do you hate it?” You asked sheepishly, “I just figured that you give me so many petnames, I should try to give you one, too. But if Min isn't good—”

“It is!” The boy interrupted a little too eagerly. Catching your surprised expression, he immediately controlled himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he sat down across from you, “Yeah, Min is fine. Min is good. It's just...new.”

“No one's ever called you Min before?” You asked with a curious expression while you pulled out the guitar with what Minho noticed was practiced ease.  

He shrugged, “I don't think anyone’s ever given me a nickname before.”

I don't think anyone’s ever reached that level of closeness with me, was the unspoken follow-up to his statement. After all, what type of one-night stand would ever result in names of endearment or genuine emotional attachment?

“Hmm...maybe I should take it up a notch and call you Minmin,” you said absently, testing the tension of the strings and being totally unaware of the spiral you just send Minho down on.

Minmin? Minmin? The poor man was turning into a pile of mush before you and you didn’t even know what you did. Minho was sure that if you ever called him Minmin, he’d throw away everything to do as you asked. 

“If you want,” he said, shuffling awkwardly as he sat across. 

You glanced up at him, giggling as you finished tuning up the instrument, “So this is my de-stress room,” you said, “I like occasionally coming here to write songs or just play the instruments here.”

“You play instruments other than guitar?” Minho asked, sounding rather impressed.

“I used to play piano as a kid, actually,” you explained with a smile as you checked the A string, “Jisung taught me how to play guitar in our first year here.”

Minho bit his lip, struggling to keep control over his expressions, “Right.”

Never before in his life did Minho ever think that he’d be sitting across from you and feeling jealous about Han Jisung’s relationship with you. It wasn’t secret knowledge; he knew you used to like his friend, and you used to like him very much. It wasn’t like Minho minded; you were the one of the decent ones and you genuinely liked Jisung for who he was. Something must’ve happened in the middle of the second year, because you gradually seemed to pull away from Jisung at least in a romantic manner. Minho never thought much of it. But now, he was beginning to fully realize how close you and Jisung actually were, and how much that was beginning to bother him.

Did you still like Jisung? That was the question that always haunted his mind. Were you doing all of this for the boy in your past when Minho was here falling harder every single day? 

“Hey, Min?” 

Your voice broke into his thoughts as his ears perked up, “Yeah?” He answered with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. There was something about the way you spoke that felt hesitant and uncertain, rather unlike you, and he wanted to make sure that you felt comfortable being here with him.

“D-do—“ you swallowed nervously, “do you want to hear one of my songs?”

Minho’s eyes widened. As a friend of Jisung and the other two famous producers on campus, he was no stranger to hearing music that they produced. But because of that, he knew how much these songs meant to the people who wrote them. How personal they can be, and how terrifying it could be to share them with others. And the fact that you were willing to bare that part of your soul to him was a gesture of trust that he’d never expected.

“Do you want me to listen?” He asked with caution, “You really don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I do!” You blurted out before your cheeks grew warm, “You shared a big part of yourself with me when you took me to that cat cafe, so I wanted to do the same.”

Minho felt a little speechless, so all he could do was nod and give you an encouraging smile. Taking his gesture as acceptance, you cleared your throat softly and began to strumming out a simple chord progression. 

The poor man was immediately entranced. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. The moment you opened your mouth to sing, Minho fell into silent awe as he let your soft, soothing voice flow through his body. There was something so present about your voice, about the lyrics you sang. Everything just felt so raw that all he could really do was watch and listen with a gentle smile on his face.

When you finished, you opened your eyes and hesitantly turned to face him, “Well?” You prodded, a hint of nervousness slipping out of your lips. 

It took Minho a few moments to put his thoughts together, and even then, they weren’t totally coherent. Nothing like the smooth-tongued, cheeky persona he always embodied, “That was--wow,” he stumbled over his words.

To his luck, you didn’t seem bothered by his failure to string his words together, but only smiled encouragingly, “A good wow, I hope?” You asked. 

“Definitely a good wow. The best wow,” he nodded fervently as you laughed, waiting for him to continue, “Did you ever take classes like Jisung and Chan?”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t have the extra money for that,” you said, resting your arms on your guitar, “But I’ve always loved to sing, and I’ve always loved hearing other people sing, too. My first childhood crush was this really cute busker who sang Hey There Delilah once near my city’s shopping street.” 

Minho’s lips quirked up in a smirk. This was much more comfortable territory for him, especially when it means teasing you, which is honestly all he ever did, “A childhood crush, huh?” He drawled, stretching out his legs, “So you have a thing for people with good voices?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “If anyone has a good singing voice, I’m at least 40% more inclined to fall in love with them.”

“Wow,” he let out a laugh, “That is an incredibly significant statistic. I’m almost worried about how shallow you are.”

You let out a noise of indignation as Minho only laughed harder, fending away your useless attacks, “I am not shallow!” You snapped, your cheeks feeling warm, “Having a good singing voice is just an added bonus!”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, even going so far as to pinch your cheek playfully, “Is that why you fell in love with Jisungie?”

“I’m not in love with Jisung--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you aren’t now,” Minho waved his hand dismissively, even though deep in his heart, he didn’t actually know and that was why he approached the topic in the first place, “But you were in love with him back then, right?”

The withering glare you gave him was weak at best, and you sighed, hugging your guitar to your chest as if it was your own personal shield, “Yes, I was. But that was years ago and we agreed to be just friends. It was awkward in the beginning, but I’m content with the relationship we have now.” 

“You are?” Minho asked, trying to sound casual as he picked a piece of lint off his pants.

You nodded surely enough for him to see that you were being genuine, “I am. Jisung is just a friend, nothing more.”

Why Minho seemed so interested in the topic that he’d ask not one, but two follow-up questions about Jisung, you didn’t know. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was jealousy or a way of making sure that you were emotionally available, but you did know better, and you knew that Lee Minho wasn’t that type of person.

Trying to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you have a favorite karaoke song? We could do a jam session here if you’re comfortable with singing.”

“You want me to sing after hearing how good you sound?” Minho scoffed in disbelief.

You visibly pouted, and Minho’s defenses immediately weakened, “Aww, I promise I won’t judge! And besides, Jisung said that you sounded good the last time you two went to the karaoke bar. It’s just the two of us, Min,” you smiled encouragingly, “We’re just here to have fun!”

Fuck everything. Fuck you and your gentle words, your soft smiles, your teasing eyes. Everything about you just made Minho want to lower all his walls and embrace all that you want to do. Letting out a sigh, he relented, “Fine. Do you know Congratulations by Day6?”

“Uh, I think the question is who doesn’t know Congratulations by Day6.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho scowled as you laughed, shifting the capo slightly higher on the neck of the guitar to the right tuning. Giving you time to get ready, Minho pulled up the lyrics on his phone to make sure he didn’t mess up unnecessarily in front of you. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but there was a weird fluttering in his stomach that made him almost believe that he was nervous. 

When the two of you were finished fiddling around, you glanced up at him, smiling, “Ready? I’ll give a four count,” Minho nodded, and after you rapped your knuckles against the body of the guitar four times, he opened his mouth and began to sing. 

His voice and your playing blended together almost magically, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared as he continued to sing, disregarding his phone since he seemed to know the lyrics by heart. All you had to do was follow along with your gentle strumming, listening and keeping up to the natural inflections of his voice. The room felt cozier, the sterile fluorescent lights felt warmer, and you were getting lost in the ethereal picture of Minho when--

“Why are the lights on in the hallway?” 

The two of you immediately stopped as you glanced at each other, eyes comically wide. It seemed like, much to your luck, the security guard happened to choose that very day to make his rounds, despite skipping every other day during the week. 

“Put the guitar away! I’ll turn off the lights!” Minho hissed at you as he bolted to the wall of the room and you went to place the guitar back in its case as quickly and carefully as possible. Luckily, the music room didn't have any windows on the door, and the guard couldn’t see what was happening inside unless he actually entered the room. 

The two of you just managed to put the guitar back in its original state and turn off the lights just as his footsteps neared the door. In a split second, Minho grabbed your arms and yanked you into one of the bass storage compartments, closing the closet door right before the guard opened the door to the music room, looking around curiously. 

Neither of you could even breathe in the crammed space of the closet as you tentatively waited for the guard to check the room. The storage compartment left almost no wiggle room, and Minho’s arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so the two of you could fit.

Oh god, this was too much for you. The thumping of his heart against yours, the tickling of his hair against your ear as he had to dip down to avoid thumping his head against the top, the grip he had on your waist as his thumb rubbed your side, an instinctive attempt to calm your nerves. 

The silence screamed in the room, and the two of you held your breaths before the footsteps exited the room, and the door clicked closed. Even still, both of you stayed totally quiet for a few moments longer before Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“This is definitely a closet I haven't explored.”

You swatted at his arm, “Now is not the time to make dirty jokes!” You scolded, but Minho accepted your angry hands, happily holding you snug against his chest as he laughed. 

“If not now, then when?”

“How about never?” You rolled your eyes as you lifted your head to glare up at him, but your intentions seemed to die out the moment you realized just how close the two of you were. Minho’s face was not inches, but centimeters away from yours, your noses almost brushing and your foreheads so close that you could practically count his eyelashes. 

Minho gulped, staring down at you in panic and awe as he struggled to maintain his composure. There was so much he could do, so much he’s done before; this position shouldn’t be all that shocking for him. As he’d said before, he has had his fair share of sloppy closet makeouts and even a little more than that. Cramming into a storage closet with his arms around you shouldn’t be enough to send his mind and heart into overdrive.

But they were, because he’s never met anyone that set his heart alight like you did. His eyes trailed obviously to your lips, the way that yours eyes did to his, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make the first move. There was something holding him back, an irrational fear that prevented him from moving too quickly, a fear that he might scare you away.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly, your hands finding their home on his chest as neither of you made moves to pull away.

“About how this date took a rather strange turn,” he answered instead, his eyes glittering with amusement.

To his surprise, you look flustered and a bit ashamed at his words, “Ah, I am sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think it was going to turn out like this. They never check the rooms, and I just wanted to show you a place where I--”

A gasp fell out of your lips as Minho pulled you forward until your body collided with his chest. He engulfed you in a tight hug, his face buried in your hair as he mumbled with what you could discern was a hint of trepidation and shyness, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for showing me this side of you.”

Your hands stilled behind him, your eyes widening as you felt him hold you tighter. You could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling in his breath, and the remainder of the walls around your heart all but collapsed as you snaked your arms around his midriff, snuggling your face into his shoulder and marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

“Thank you for giving me the chance,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his familiar leather jacket as you smiled, “You know…”

“Hmm?” Minho answered absently, holding you close.

“I like this better than fighting.”

Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the sheer simplicity of your statement, and he couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree with you.

“Yeah, me too.”

v.

“Fuck!” 

Minho let out a trail of belligerent curses as he ran to the nearest bus station, holding his leather jacket over both of your heads to shield the two of you from the sudden and pouring rain. As the two of you were walking in the middle of the flower garden right before the weather took a sharp turn for the worse, both of you were soaked to the bone by the time you found shelter.

As you clutched at your chest, gasping for breath, you huffed grumpily at the boy beside you, who looked way too dashing for someone who was doused like a wet dog, “Weren't you supposed to check the weather?”

“Well, if we went to the arcade like I'd suggested instead of the park, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?” Minho retorted, running a hand through his damp locks. 

“It’s a Friday night. The arcade would’ve been packed to the brim and you still would’ve been all pissy.”

“It’s better than being soaked to the bone and freezing our asses off at some random bus station.”

The two of you maintained your angry tense glares for only a moment longer before you caved, rolling your eyes as a smile crept on your face, “It seems like nothing has changed, even on our last date.”

“We're destined enemies. The universe has decreed it long ago, sweetheart,” Minho chuckled. 

The most humorous thing about both of those statements were how utterly false they were, and how aware both of you were about that fact. Anything and everything that existed between the two of you had changed during the course of the month, and both of you knew it. Minho had changed from a necessary annoyance to an irreplaceable pillar in your life, a source of honesty and comfort that you've grown to relish. Even though the two of you still bickered like cats and dogs, there was something good-natured about it now.

“Well, our garden date is fucked and we can't exactly go to the arcade like this, so what do you suppose we do?” You asked with a grimace as you wrung the excess water out of your hair, “This is the last day before our project ends.” 

Minho sighed, shaking the droplets of water off his jacket as he bit his lip, turning his gaze to your side profile. You were happily oblivious to his stare, continuing to twist the water out of your hair as you stared out at the rainy street, humming softly to yourself. He could tell immediately that you were cold and doing your best to keep yourself from shivering. 

It was definitely a pet peeve of his that he’d grown more and more annoyed over as he spent the month by your side. You never liked to wear jackets or bring them along, despite the fact that you were literally cold-blooded and tended to match the temperature of whatever weather was going on around you. It got so bad at times that Minho had already developed a habit of bringing you an extra jacket or scarf so you at least didn’t catch a fucking cold while you were spending on dates with him. 

Unfortunately, the forecast had predicted clear skies and warm weather for the whole day, and Minho didn’t think about bringing that extra jacket around this time, so all you could do was perish in your cold, soaked clothes. 

“You could come over and hang out at my place.”

The words tumbled out of Minho's mouth before he could really consider the consequences, and all he could do after that was look as nonchalant as possible. 

As expected, you gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head, “You want me to hang out at your apartment?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, “We could dry up there and maybe watch some Netflix or something." 

You let out a scandalized gasp, dramatically covering your chest with your arms, and Minho's face burned as he gave you a hard shove, "Not like that, oh my god!" He sputtered in total embarrassment, fully beginning to process the implications of his words. 

As the poor man dissolved in his own misery, you cackled, relishing his suffering as you ran a hand through your wet locks, "I'm kidding, genius!" You said with a laugh, "Gosh, who knew you were actually such a prude on the inside." 

If you took Minho seriously at all, his glare would have sent you six feet under. Unfortunately for him, one month of fake dating taught you that the man was a lot more bark than bite. You were basically Minho-immune at this point.

“You know what?” He closed his eyes, grabbing at whatever supernatural patience he had not to just shut you up with his lips smashing against yours, “Offers’ off. Walk home yourself.”

“Aw, alright I’m sorry!” You laughed, ruffling his messed up hair as you walked out of the bus stop and into the pouring rain, “Come on, please? I promise I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

You promising not to make fun of him sounded about as genuine as Jisung saying that he’d stop procrastinating on his homework, but what was Minho going to do? Make you walk home by yourself in this type of weather? It wasn’t that he was giving you any special treatment; this was just what any good samaritan would do.

With a roll of his eyes, he stomped over to you and flung his leather jacket over your head, “Let’s go,” he muttered. Smiling playfully, you followed him home, using his jacket to shield you from the rain as you stared at his back with a hint of bittersweetness.

The jacket still smelled like him, you thought absently as you walked in his shadow. As much as you’d tried to deny it to yourself, Minho smelled good. He smelled like Febreeze and citrus. You were going to miss the warmth of his jacket very soon, when he’d no longer be obligated to take care of you or make sure that you won’t catch a cold.

“Did you die back there, sweetheart?” Minho called behind him, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“If I died, how exactly was I supposed to answer you?” 

“Oh, my bad. I was really only asking out of courtesy,” he smirked, throwing his head back as his eyes sparkled with a mischief you’ve grown out of hating. Seeing the few feet of distance between the two of you, he extended his hand, chuckling, “Seriously, what are you doing all the way back there? Come on.”

You felt yourself grow quiet, taking a few large strides forward before you let go of the jacket and slipped your hand into his. Minho’s fingers laced with yours as he continued on his way, leading you down a couple streets before you made it to the familiar apartment complex.

Now, you’ve been to Minho’s place a couple times, so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed as the two of you rushed into the lobby area sopping wet and trying your best to dry off your shoes on the mat. However, it was always just a quick stop, like standing in the lobby area while he went up to grab something, or meeting with him downstairs before going on a date. You’d never actually been into his apartment before, and as the two of you stood in the elevator in a deafening silence, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing a little faster than normal.

“Alright, now I’m worried,” he said as the numbers on the elevator screen went up slowly, “You’re being abnormally quiet. What’s up?”

You blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to pry, since he wasn’t ever the type, “Oh. I’m just wondering what your place looks like,” you said, smiling.

Minho didn’t buy it for one second, but he only gave you a strange glance as the elevator doors opened, “I see. Well, it’s nothing special. It’s just like any other dumpy frumpy apartment.”

“I didn’t mean like whether it looks expensive or not,” you said with a soft laugh as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the door to the left, “I’m just wondering whether it would be clean or messy, if you like to keep it warm or cold. Those sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time, he felt a little nervous about twisting his key and opening the door. What if you had higher expectations about it than he could actually meet? Wait, did he pick up those boxers off the floor before he left that morning? He did, right?

“What are you waiting for?” You asked in amusement, watching as Minho seemed to have gone very still after he pushed his key into the keyhole. When he didn’t budge, you moved forward to turn it yourself, only for him to angle his body in front of the door.

“Uh, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” he said with a pleasant, saccharine smile.

You blinked, “Minho, we’re literally at your door,” you said just as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance, “And it’s thundering. Your room can’t be that horrid, right?”

“It might be a bit messy,” he argued.

“We’ve both spent game nights in Jisung’s hell hole. I think I can handle however messy your apartment is.”

That was a fair point. Minho couldn’t really find an argument against that attack. Lowering his head, he sighed, “Let me head in to tidy some things first.”

With a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms, “No problem, but I seriously don’t care, if that’s what your worried about.”

Minho could only nod suddenly before he turned the key, unlocked the door and slipped in faster than a ghost before slamming the door shut. Just like he’d predicted, his boxers were lying nonchalantly on his bedroom floor, and he shoved them in his hamper before cleaning--more like hiding--the rest of his junk in record time.

You were beginning to think that Minho had just locked you out of his apartment when the door opened once more, and he walked out with a towel in hand, “Did you hide whatever dirty toy you needed to hide?” You asked with a smirk.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he retorted, throwing the towel at you and leading you inside.

The apartment wasn’t far from your expectations. Clean, but not meticulously so, a little bit on the chilly side, and a sense of homeliness with the warm lights and lamps that he chose from the living area. You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of it by the minute.

“It’s cute,” you smiled, wrapping the towel around your neck. 

Minho tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at the simple, but genuine compliment that fell out of your lips, “Thanks. I laid out a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. You can also take a shower if you feel like you need to warm up.” 

“What a gentleman,” you said teasingly as you placed your handbag down on the floor as you headed to where Minho had gestured to the bathroom, “Do you have people over often?” It was an easy question, not even close to brushing the real question that sat in the back of your mind. 

Is what we have special? Do I mean something different to you the way you mean something different to me?

“Actually, besides Jisung, you’re probably the first,” Minho answered, grabbing a towel to dry off his own hair as he walked towards you, “I don’t really like strangers or acquaintances in my space.”

“Oh, I should be honored, then,” you said, trying to contain your surprise as turned to face him, studying the way his damp hair framed his face and the way his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that you could never read.  You could never tell what that gaze wanted, what that gaze meant, but you knew what it did to you and your foolish little heart.

Minho’s head tilted ever so slightly as the silence hung in the air. Then, he smiled, brushing the tip of his finger under your chin, “Well, being my social experiment girlfriend has to have its perks.”

The trance shattered, and whatever moment of tension and unexplainable attraction you felt disappeared into the air as you marched towards the bathroom, “I’m glad I got to make use of it before my membership expires tomorrow,” you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you shut the door.

A laugh left Minho’s lips as he shook his head, walking into his bedroom and quickly getting into a change of clothes before flopping onto his couch. This experiment has proved to be one of the most difficult experiences in his life. All this time, he always knew what he wanted, and he always knew how to get it. If he wanted someone, he got them. If he wanted to pursue something, he found himself being able to achieve it with just a bit of hard work on his part. 

But with you, he didn’t know what he wanted, nor did he know how to obtain it. When he met you as Jisung’s other best friend, he never once imagined that the two of you would form such a strange yet irreplaceable relationship in such a short amount of time. He liked you, he liked you a lot. But as he found himself falling further and further, he realized that the reason this was so difficult was because he cared about you. His way of living with no strings attached wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially since he was beginning to notice that many of his strings were tightly wrapped around your fingers. 

And despite this, the two of you were going to have to cut them all off when the morning came.

“Fuck you, Jisung. You probably knew this was going to happen, you little shit,” Minho sighed, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about the goodbye. He’d deal with it when it came.

“Uh, Minmin?” 

“Hmm?” Minho answered you absently, his eyes still closed.

“You can shower if you’d like,” you offered, the couch dipping under your weight as you sat beside him.

“Nah, I’ll just shower tomorrow morning,” Minho said, opening his eyes and physically having to fight back a blush as he saw you, his hoodie practically engulfing you whole and his sweats going past your feet. Oh fuck, did he even think things through when he picked out a spare set of clothes for you? 

You caught his stunned gaze, your cheeks immediately reddening, “L-look, they’re just a little big on me!” You said defensively as you grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it in his face, “Can’t you stop staring?”

Minho laughed, fending off your relentless pillow attacks with his arms, “Sweetheart, I swear! You actually look really cute!” 

“Shut up!” You shrieked, swinging your arms relentlessly as Minho finally had enough letting you win. Lashing out with his hands, he grabbed both of your wrists, stopping their movement and forcing you to drop the pillow as he yanked you forward. With all your momentum going in one direction, your body had no choice but to follow, and when you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on top of him on the couch, his hands still locking your wrists in place.

“Um,” you looked around, further procession the rather awkward position the two of you had taken, “did you mean for this to happen?”

Minho didn’t, but he was nothing if not an opportunist, “You can think whatever you wanna think,” he shrugged, letting go of your wrists as he wrapped a casual arm around your waist, “What? Not comfortable?”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the position was actually quite comfortable. Minho was always built like a personal heater and whatever chill you felt from running around in the rain just seemed to melt away as he held you. 

Stop it, the little voice in your mind whispered as you tried not to focus on the fact that your face was inches from his. This date was for you to say your goodbyes, not fall farther into the black hole.

“Comfortable? Hardly,” you scoffed as best you could, pushing yourself up with your hands and curling up on the couch beside his stretched out figure, “You’re all muscle from dancing so much. It’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Ah, these abs are hard as rock,” Minho nodded very seriously.

“I wasn’t talking about your abs.”

“Then what else can be hard?” He blinked for a moment before his smile turned unbelievably devilish, “My, my, (name)...I didn’t know you were so--”

You grabbed the pillow you’d previously discarded and shoved it into his chest, “Can we watch something?” You interrupted him pleasantly, pretending not to have even heard the beginning of his less than appropriate joke.

Minho huffed, throwing the stupid pillow to the floor as he scooted next to you, “Sure, want popcorn?” He asked, handing you the remote after turning on his TV, “Just find something on Netflix.”

“Anything you don’t like to watch?” You asked, browsing through the selections.

“Nothing horror related,” he answered as he pushed himself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

His reply felt strange to you, and you frowned, turning around to look at him, “But don’t you love horror movies?” You asked, remembering very clearly that Minho and Jisung had first met because they both went to the same viewing of a new horror movie that you refused to go to. 

“Yeah, but you don’t, right?” Minho pointed out before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and disappearing into the kitchen area as you were left reeling at his almost blasé answer, struck by how much he’d grown to learn about you and how much he'd grown to take your feelings into account. 

Now that you thought about it, you realized how much Minho's personality had changed and affected the way you did things, not in a controlling way, but in a way that you found yourself thinking about him when making decisions. When you made your weekly batch of bread, you tended to lean towards milk bread because it was Minho’s favorite. When you went out for dinner together, you thought about what he enjoyed before picking a cuisine. When you browsed for cute accessories, your taste gravitated to cats because they reminded you of him.

Holy fuck, how deep in were you?

“You didn't pick anything yet,” Minho noticed as he poked his head out from the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to finish. 

“O-oh right,” you fumbled with the remote in your hands as you scrolled through the selections. 

Minho hummed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Hmm…? What were you thinking about, kitten?”

“Nothing, stop being nosy,” you answered with an annoyed edge as you found something that piqued your interest, “Hey, wanna watch Bridgerton? I heard some good things about it from my friends.” 

"I heard it's a bit of a shitshow," Minho commented as the microwave beeped and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the room. Grabbing the bowl and taking a few pieces for himself, he returned to the living room, jumping over the couch and plopping down beside you. 

You tried to ignore how casual it felt for him to just throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, focusing on the TV, “Wanna check it out to see which review is accurate?” 

“Sure, whatever you want, kitten.” 

As the two of you powered through episode after episode, it became clear that both reviews had some merit, as the series was a bit of a shitshow, but one that you wouldn't be able to stop watching. Minho and you found yourselves rather invested in the story and the characters, letting out a huge “finally” when the two leads confessed their genuine love for one another. 

“Another episode?” You asked after a short bathroom break, falling into his arms even more so than before and practically snuggling into his warm chest now. 

“Go for it, sweetheart. I have all night.”

“So do I,” you chuckled, and pressed the play button. 

However, things started to take a weird turn after you reached the middle mark of the series. Bouts of contained love had been released, and there were beginning to be many scenes that weren't quite appropriate for general audiences. You quickly realized that this was probably not the show you should've picked to watch through straight-faced with your lovely social experiment boyfriend. 

You held your tongue for most of them, just wanting and wishing for them to be over as soon as possible, but when positions started to turn towards an even more peculiar direction, you couldn't help but make one rather underhanded comment. 

“Ugh, forget the literal fanfic fake dating trope they had going on. This is probably the most unrealistic part of the whole show,” you said with mild disgust as you watched the female lead gripping on the rails of the staircase. 

“Oh?” Minho perked up at your comment almost too eagerly. Like you, he had also been suffering from the tragic case of watching a dirty scene with his totally-fake-but-also-somehow-real girlfriend, and felt a crash of relief when you spoke up about something, “And why is that, kitten?”

A noise of disbelief choked out of your throat as you gestured at the scene before your eyes, “I mean, look at them! Can you possibly expect me to believe that she feels comfortable in that position, much less enjoy it?”

Minho shrugged, “You’d be surprised how much you can ignore when you’re in the moment.”

“I don’t believe it,” you scoffed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, “At least, I’ve never had such an experience before.”

The conversation was dropped then and there, and the show continued without further criticism. But halfway through the next episode, you began to feel that you were being watched, and sure enough, Minho was gazing at you with an unreadable expression, deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, chuckling awkwardly, “Do I have something on my...Min?”

Your eyes widened comically as Minho suddenly shifted on the couch, leaning impossibly closer to you and gently cupping your jaw with his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. Had he lost his mind?! 

Minho seemed to answer your silent question as he stopped right before his lips could brush yours, and his eyes searched for any fear or hesitation in your expression, “Is it true?” He asked hoarsely, his words no louder than a faint whisper.

“What true?” You murmured back, looking up at him through your lashes.

The man gulped, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of control he had left in his body, “What you said earlier...about never having such an experience before.”

Oh, your cheeks reddened as bright as apples, “Why do you have to bring it up again, idiot?!” You felt your voice fail you as Minho tightened his hold on you.

“So it’s true?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Yes, it’s true! What does it have to do with you, asshole?”

Minho sucked in a breath, studying your face as his eyes shone with gentle adoration and tenderness that you didn’t even know he could possess, “Can I kiss you, (name)?”

Your name. It was your name. Not sweetheart. Not kitten. Not any other petname he could give anyone that he pleased. He uttered your name. He was asking for your permission. And like a sailor drawn in by the siren’s song, you had no hope of escaping now. 

“Yes.”

Closing the gap, your lips met as the two of you finally succumbed to the growing tension that festered with every meeting, every touch of your hands, every quip thrown both ways. Minho caressed your cheek as your hands slid to his shoulders, reveling in the kiss that was such a long time coming. 

When he finally pulled away to let both of you catch your breaths, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide as he stared at you underneath him. Swallowing, he brushed the hair away from your face, his heart warming with unrestrained affection as you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, “Can I give you that experience you’ve been lacking?” He asked, a coil of anxiety rolling in his stomach as he studied your face for every miniscule reaction.

Any inkling that you didn’t want to, any inkling that you were only going to along to please him, he’d end it all. Minho knew very well that he was walking on a tightrope of maybe losing you forever. 

But to his surprise, you didn’t look fearful or uncomfortable, only a bit uncertain, “T-this is our last night though, a-as…” you trailed off, not wanting to make those thoughts a reality, just like Minho had been actively avoiding the topic as well.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, stroking your cheek absently with his thumb, “Maybe...we can think of this as a goodbye.”

You smiled, “It’s one hell of a goodbye,” you teased, making him chuckle. It was definitely one hell of a goodbye.

“Do you want it?” Minho whispered, hovering over you, “You say the word, and I’ll back off. Promise.”

Sucking in a breath, you decided not to live by your head anymore. With Lee Minho holding you close, kissing you silly, what was there to refuse?

“I want it,” you murmured, “I want you.”

This was the right choice, you told yourself as Minho carried you to his bedroom, treating you with a delicacy and gentleness that you’ve never experienced before. It was the culmination of your feelings for him. Maybe, when the morning comes, these feelings would wash away with your bouts of pleasure. Maybe, when the morning comes, you wouldn’t be as deeply in love with him as you were now.

Right?

epilogue.

When you woke in the morning, the rays of sunlight spilling in through Minho’s dark curtains, you were almost stunned by how very wrong you were. As you turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Minho, fast asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you knew that you were not only still in love with Minho, but you were more in love with him than you were the night before. 

And boy, did that terrify you to your very core.

Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The experiment was over, right? There wasn’t a purpose that pulled you two together anymore. There wasn’t a purpose for Minho to feel any sort of attraction to you anymore. 

Too terrified to face the love of your life when he woke, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

And you ran. 

Detangling yourself from Minho as gently as possible, you slipped out of his bed, grabbing your clothes from where they’d been haphazardly discarded around the room. You changed in record time, anxious to avoid making sound or staying around until Minho woke. It was only 8:30 in the morning, though, and you knew that Minho naturally didn’t like to wake before 9:00, so you had a bit of time.

You wanted to leave as soon as you finished changing, but your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you disappear without some form of gratitude. For the night before or for the way he’d treated you the whole month, you didn’t know. But either way, you grabbed a couple of ingredients that he had in his refrigerator and fixed him a hearty breakfast before heading to the door. You only looked back once before officially steeling yourself to disappear from Lee Minho’s life, at least until you’d be able to resolve these naive and yet deep-seated feelings you had for him.

For the rest of the week, life went on as normal for you, as if your one unforgettable month with Minho had all but faded into the wind as you had hoped that night. You finished your final entry in the diary and handed it back to Jisung the day after the experiment ended. If he had questions as to why you’d disregarded the original plan to hand yours over along with Minho’s at the same time, he didn’t bring them up. 

“Did you at least have fun, (name)?” Jisung asked before you could turn around to leave. 

You hesitated, quickly realizing that the fact that you couldn’t answer the question immediately gave away your uncertainty. After a long moment of thought, you nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

You really did, though. There was no point lying to yourself about that when you were already having such a hard time pretending that your very real feelings for Minho don’t exist. 

Speaking of Minho, you spent much of the week trying to cut him out of your life as much as possible, which was proven to be rather difficult since the two of you had such a close friend in common. You could tell that Jisung was getting a little sick of seesawing between his two best friends without knowing why the two of you were acting this way. Even back when the two of you were basically the worst of enemies, neither of you ever actively tried to avoid seeing the other.

But now, you were avoiding Minho like the plague. You avoided his school building entirely, and if you happened to see him walking down the street by some unlucky miracle, you’d bolt in a random direction and hide in a store until you were sure he was gone. 

It was a lot of effort, and you weren’t even sure if it was working, since your feelings for him seemed to grow even stronger the more you were away from him.

There was just worry that festered within your heart, this genuine concern you had over his wellbeing now that you weren’t able to check on him every day. Was he eating well? Was he skipping breakfast now that you stopped giving him your milk bread? Did he pass that exam he was worried about?

It seemed your feelings for Minho were going to need a little more than distance to disappear. 

After two weeks of moping and frustratingly obvious heart sickness on both sides, Han Jisung finally had enough with his idiotic best friends. 

You opened your door in surprise as Jisung stood at the entrance of your apartment, an unusually angry expression on his face, “U-uh, Sungie? You good?”

“Do I look good?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “How the fuck do you expect me to be good when I’ve been fucking tiptoeing between you and Minho for the past two weeks?!”

You flinched at the very mention of his name, “I’m sorry. I promise everything will go back to normal soon.”

“With the way you’re doing things, I don’t think that’s going to happen, (name),” Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, and you finally noticed the deep eyebags he had, indicating several all nighters, “I finished writing my thesis paper.”

“Oh, congrats.”

It was easier to muster up a smile at that statement, since you were genuinely proud of Jisung for such a daring project. 

“I also read both of your notebooks.”

Fuck. That was a necessary part of writing that paper. 

You nodded, trying to keep your cool, “Okay? Did they not have enough information?”

“Forget the stupid project for one fucking moment, please,” Jisung interrupted before sighing, “At first, I thought the awkwardness came from the fact that you still hate each other, but it turns out it’s just the opposite.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jisung threw you a long look, as if silently weighing several options in his head. You could practically see his thoughts running a mile a minute, and all you could do was stand there as he finally reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar notebook.

“This--” Your eyes widened as you gazed down at the name written in Sharpie, a name that decidedly wasn’t yours, “Jisung, you can’t--”

“Yes, I know that as the operator of this experiment, giving out information that I’d originally stated was confidential is absolutely against everything that science stands for,” he said wearily, “But as your friend and Minho’s friend, this is the right thing to do.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Read it, dummy. I could tell you what’s inside, but I don’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it yourself.”

Jisung grabbed your wrist and pressed the little notebook into the palm of your hand, “I think you’ll know what to do after,” he smiled gently, his eyes filled with earnest care as he gave you a quick hug and made his way down the hall, leaving you to stand at your door holding Minho’s grey project notebook. 

With nothing else to do, you entered your apartment again and plopped down on the couch, notebook in hand. Did you even want to see it, Minho’s unadulterated truth? A part of you wasn't, but curiosity always killed the cat, and you found yourself gingerly opening the first page. 

Nothing was far from what you expected at first, since it matched quite well to your own experiences. First blatant dislike, then grudging respect, and finally, a growing fondness. You found yourself smiling as you read about how much Minho actually adored the bentos you made, even though he never made his thoughts on it entirely clear to you. 

Then, you finally made it to the last page: Day 31. You found yourself stopping short, your heart beginning to race again as your eyes scanned the first few words. 

~

lee minho: day 31 + 2 days 

action(s): last date 

notes: yeah, i know this entry is late, but i just needed some time to collect myself. 

she left in the morning before i could wake up. i can’t say i was surprised, since i told her the night could be our goodbye, but i’d hoped in some part of me that she’d stay, that we’d just carry on with the rest of the month like the ending date didn’t exist. she made me breakfast, though, so at least i know she wasn’t disappointed or upset with me about how far things went. at least i hope.

fuck, jisung, i can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been two days already and nothing i do can make me forget her. the last night just made things infinitely worse. i played with fire and im getting burned for it. i can’t get the way she felt out of my head, the way she would also look into my eyes and see me for what i am inside, not just what i look like. i miss her milk bread, i miss seeing her outside the dance studio. 

jisung, i think i love her. no fuck it, i do love her, and there’s nothing i can do anymore. she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me based on how she’d been avoiding me like the plague whenever i see her on the street. and now, i don't even know how much of what she felt, how much of what she did for me was real. did she put in so much effort because she wanted you to be happy? or was the way she hugged me, the way she spoke to me, was it all real?

it doesnt matter now. 

~

By the time you made it to the end of the page, your eyes were filled with tears and your vision blurred over. Minho...he loved you? Had you been so absorbed with wallowing in your own misery that you failed to realize that your actions were hurting him? 

Panic filled your very being, and as Jisung had predicted, you knew exactly what you had to do. You had to make amends, apologize for your actions, and at the very least, express your own feelings to him directly, even if it was too little too late. 

With the notebook clutched tightly in your hand, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door, still putting on your boots as you hopped to the elevator. Which bus did you have to take to get to his apartment? First the #2 and then transfer over to #13...right.

You bolted out of the lobby, feeling the rush of cold air seep through your bones, but you hardly found it in yourself to care. You ran to the bus station, anxiously shuffling on either feet as you waited for the next #2 line bus to arrive. When the bus finally arrived, you were already standing at the edge of the sidewalk, too jittery to sit. The doors slid open, and before you could barge inside, your jaw went slack as a familiar figure stepped out of the bus, his own eyes widened as they caught yours. 

What was most interesting, however, was the familiar grey notebook that he clutched in his hand, one that was painfully identical to the one you were holding. 

The two of you stood in an awed silence as Minho got off the steps, and the bus drove away. Immediately, you felt a wave of concern as you looked him over from a distance. Did he lose weight? Was he getting enough sleep?

In the end, Minho was the one who spoke first, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Judging by the notebook in your hand, I’m assuming that Jisung fucked us both over?”

“Y-yeah, sort of,” you answered, surprised that your voice didn’t completely fail you in such an important moment. 

Minho seemed to wait for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he spoke again, “Um, I read it. Your diary entries.”

That wasn’t a surprise, of course, see that you read his, but you couldn’t stop the wave of flushed embarrassment from washing over you as you thought about all the embarrassing things  you wrote about him, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking sheepish, “Do you really think I sound like an angel when I sing?”

Oh, if you could hide yourself six feet under, you would have. But you could nod shamefully, “Yeah.”

“Do you really like it when I cuddle with you and pull you onto my lap?” 

Was this your punishment for not being honest upfront? “Y-yes! Now can you please shut up--”

“Do you really love me?” 

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you finally looked up to stare at Minho, whose face was unreadable as always. He held up the notebook and repeated his question when you couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up an answer, “You said in your final entry that you were in love with me, that you loved every part of me inside and out, and that our final night together just made everything so much more real. Is it true?”

Your eyes filled with pain as you choked out softly, “What will you do…if it is?”

Minho’s expression didn’t seem to change, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to return to their usual sparkle just a little bit, “If it is true, then I’d call you an idiot for ghosting me.”

“R-right--”

“And then I’d walk over to where you’re standing. I’d wrap my arms around your waist like the way you love, and I’d kiss you silly. I’d tell you that I’m totally and completely in love with you, as you probably already know from my diary entires, and I’d ask you to be my real girlfriend,” Minho spoke, his voice filled with meaning as his grip on your notebook tightened, “Now tell me, is it true?”

You couldn’t even remember how to breathe as you stared at him, the cold winter wind making his cheeks so delightfully rosy that all you wanted to do was to kiss them gently and warm them up with your mittens. And as he gazed at you, the sincerity pouring out of his posture, his words, and his eyes, there was no way you could continue lying to yourself. 

“It is true,” you said, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you gripped at his notebook, “I’m in love with you, Lee Minho, and it’s tearing me apart just like it’s tearing you apart. I want to love you for real, I want to date you for real, I want us to be real.”

Minho took three large steps forward before he was right in front of you and his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist like he’d promised, and yours cupped his cheek as he kissed you with unrestrained fervor. 

Wow, he really did kiss you silly.

“No more rules, no more of this social experiment bullshit,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “Do you want to be my real girlfriend, (name)?”

What was there to refuse? 

.

the enemies to lovers project: [success]

[ijustwant2write]

Sweet Boy-Bonnie Gold x Reader x Finn Shelby (Part 6/?)

(GIF credit @deforest​)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

MASTERLIST

Tags: @stressedandbandobessed7771 @bethany-taylo @lovelynerdytraveler @savvy7392 @kingarthurscat @smallheathgangsters @soleil-dor @alyse45 @bloodorangemoonlight @amirahiddleston @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @haphazardhufflepuff @ravenoussss @ophelias-flower-bed @peakascum @mzcrazy2

Summary: Tensions continue to rise in the Shelby business, (Y/N) doesn't know what to do about her situation. Her mind is in two places with these boys. After a hard day in the shop, her simple evening turns into a dangerous one.

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Bonnie Gold x Reader, Thomas Shelby x Reader

(A/N: I am so sorry for the wait!)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) P.O.V

I rubbed my eyes as I stepped into the shop, bracing myself for another day of work. I would no doubt see the boys, both would speak to me at separate moments and I would he confused all over again. A yawn escaped me as I hung up my coat, making my way towards the other girls who worked there.

"Morning." I tried my best to be cheerful, only to be greeted with mumbles or nothing at all.

They all avoided eye contact with me, some sheepish whilst others held their head high. What was going on?

"Is everyone alright? Did I miss something?" I cautiously asked.

When no one answered I scoffed to myself. If these women wanted to act like school girls then so be it. They were in a huff over something which obviously had to do with me.

"(Y/N)." Susan, a girl a few years older than me and more on the quiet side."It's about this whole Finn and Bonnie thing. Don't worry, they're just annoyed they aren't involved in the drama. Or having boys fight over them."

With that she smiled kindly at me before walking to her desk. My mouth was open in shock, trying to process what she said. Jealous? Jealous of the fact that I was dealing with two dangerous men, that I had got myself caught up in official Blinder business and that my life was in danger? Pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

"Think that's the angriest way of making a cup of tea." one of the lads who worked on the shop floor chuckled as he joined me in the kitchen.

I realised I had been stirring the tea around a little viciously."Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Or in the wrong bed?"

"Excuse me?" I frowned at him.

"Oh nothing."

I caught him smirking to himself, the cheeky bastard. What was up with people today?! Taking my cup of tea to my desk, I noticed the girls stop gossiping as soon as I approached. It was very tempting to say something, but if I opened my mouth I wouldn't stop. I sat, assuming they would start their small talk about something else, though they remained silent. They made themselves busy with their work, only speaking when they had to. This lot could talk for England, it was weird not hearing their voices. But still, I kept my mouth shut.

Work dragged, I couldn't help but glance at the clock often, feeling like an hour has passed when it was only fifteen minutes. I tried to concentrate on my work, if I really got my head in it, nothing else would distract me, and time would fly by! Still didn't work.

When lunchtime finally rolled around, I stretched my legs before standing, feeling that I would be by myself this lunchtime.

"Oi, (Y/N)!" a young Blinder called as I grabbed my things.

I rolled my eyes."Yes?"

He approached me, a cocky smirk on his lips as he looked back over at his friends, all of them terribly masking their laughs."I was just wondering if you would want to go out sometime?"

I knew he wasn't being serious."Sorry, no thank you."

"Why? You've already shagged two Blinder boys, aren't we just passing you around like salt at the dinner table?"

His friends burst into hysterics at his comment, as did he. That was it, I couldn't take anymore today. I could feel my nostrils flare as I glared at him, fists clenching tightly. Pulling back my hand, I gave him a good, hard slap around the face, my hand stinging just as much as his cheek was.

"Go fuck yourself! You have no idea what these past few weeks have been like! Fucking pricks, the lot of you!"

It was embarrassing that I had started crying but it was just humiliating. Why were people making jokes about this? I hadn't wanted any of this to happen, I didn't want to be that girl who liked boys fighting over her. I just wanted my old life back...well, most of it anyway.

As soon as I stepped out of the shop, I had no idea where to go. I couldn't go to my flat, Tommy had advised against it. I didn't want to be in public either, heading back to Polly's was the only place I could go, thank god she was working today.

I had held in my crying until I got to Polly's house, closing the door was like a switch. Suddenly it all came pouring out. I had no one to blame but myself for getting into this lifestyle. I should have listened to all my friends and family, I should have stayed away from Finn Shelby. Was it worth it? That one perfect year together, was it worth it?!

Was it?

Slumping towards the kitchen, I debated opening any kind of alcohol, but I had to be back at work in thirty minutes. The next best thing was the biscuit tin; however, my sobs grew louder when I saw there were none left, only crumbs.

"(Y/N)?" Finn's voice startled me. He was only in his trousers and shirt, no tie or jacket as of yet."Woah, what's wrong?"

I showed him the empty tin."There's no more biscuits!"

He was confused."Uh, OK?"

"I'm not crying over just that Finn."

"Oh. What's wrong?" he slowly walked towards me.

"People are awful."

"What's happened?" I could hear the concern in his voice, it made me melt.

"The girls are all ignoring me, they think I'm an attention seeking whore."

"They said that?!"

"Well, no, but they think that...that whatever is going on between us all is just me wanting attention."

"Which it isn't."

"Exactly! And one of the lads made a remark that I was in different people's beds and another said that I was being passed around like salt at a table."

It was his turn to be angry."Right, they still at the shop?"

He walked away, I assumed he was going to grab his shoes and coat

"No, Finn, Finn please don't cause anymore fuss! As much as I would love for you to have a screaming match with them, we both know it's not a good idea."

"No one speaks about my girl like that."

Shit, he used to call me that all the time.

"(Y/N), I didn't mean-"

"Old habits." I quickly brushed it off.

He put his cost back on the rack."Isn’t here anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"Conjure up some biscuits?"

We both laughed.

"I'm sorry I can't do that. Not right now anyway."

"That's OK. I shouldn't be snacking because I'm sad."

"You used to always eat the chocolate ones, especially when you were upset. Wouldn't leave any for the rest of us."

I blushed as I smiled."I know, but they were my favourites."

"I know."

This didn't feel awkward for some reason. It was actually nice to reminisce on the good times. It felt like when I had first moved in all over again. That excitement of seeing each other everyday, sleeping in the same bed and being able to share kisses whenever we wanted. No more sneaking out, no more waiting a few days for a proper date in order to see each other. Obviously this was under very different circumstances now.

"You think you'll be alright? I can say I saw you being sick if you don't want to go back to work." Finn offered.

I shook my head."No, people will just think I'm pregnant."

"Good point."

"Thank you though Finn."

"It's alright."

Another mind smile was shared between us. Perhaps we were growing up a little, accepting that what had been, had been. But then my mind flashed back to the past week, and that was not grown up behavior.

"Uh, Pol's got some chicken left over from last night you can eat." Finn told me.

"Oh, yeah, lunch. Thank you. Do you want some? I can make us some sandwiches."

"Y-yeah. Please."

It was silent as I made our food. I hated it. I could literally feel the awkwardness, my shoulders were tense now, why had we gone back to this? Did we just get too caught up in the moment? We were sat opposite each other at the table as we ate, mostly in silence.

"Do you think we'll ever be the same?" Finn asked."Nit as a couple but...friends?"

I kept my eyes cast down."Do you want to be friends?"

"Do you?"

I thought for a second."I wouldn't be against it."

"But?"

"There's no but."

"Alright, but there's something else."

"It would take time."

"I know. Just over the last week or so I realised I don't want you out of my life."

"Why?"

"If I started saying why you'll get up and leave."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter. Eat up if you want to get back to work on time."

Although I wanted to probe deeper, I also knew it would only lead to an argument. And I really didn't have time for that, having ten minutes spare to leave and get back to work once I finished eating.

"Go on, I'll clean up." Finn offered.

"Wow, this is a rare sight." I teased.

"Go!" he couldn't help but laugh.

Finn P.O.V

My smile was big and evident as (Y/N) got her things together. I didn't want her to go, I couldn't have spent all afternoon with her. I wanted to make it up to her. I had a lot to apologise for, not just from the last week either. Although I was still adamant on her and Bonnie not being a thing, I knew I had to make a decision. I just couldn't count on what her answer would be.

As I tidied away the plates from lunch, I saw Isaiah come through the back gate before entering the house.

"Alright mate?" he greeted, taking a seat where (Y/N) had just been.

"Yeah, you?"

"That wasn't very convincing mate. Do you want to sound any sadder?"

"Just got a lot on my mind, what with those guys chasing us and-"

"And (Y/N)."

I huffed."Fine. And (Y/N)."

Isaiah was my best mate, if he couldn't figure me out, then no one could."Finn, you seriously need to say something before it's too late. And honestly mate, it's getting later and later."

"But what do I say?" I leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over one another."It won't be easy. I treated her like shit. I could only focus on the business. Not to mention I fucked a load of whores in office with only a wall between us."

"Yeah, not your best move."

I groaned into my hands."Isaiah, I'm never going to get her back."

"Fuck." Is stood, standing in front of me."You're really serious about this."

"I just...I just don't think I can see (Y/N) with Bonnie. Or any other man besides me."

 “Well you need to do something about it. If you just admitted all of this earlier then she might have been back with you by now.”

“We both know how stubborn he is.”

“Right, come on then.” Isaiah sat back down, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

“What?”

“Well, we need to strategise, come up with a plan. No time like the present.”

(Y/N) P.O.V

The atmosphere was the same as it had been that morning. I had attempted to fix my makeup on the way there, though everyone had seen the state I was in when I left. Working in silence again, I felt my eyelids drooping in boredom. It was all too much, I was emotionally drained and my focus wasn’t all there. Finn was on my mind. Why was he now having this effect on me when I hated him so much? And where was Bonnie today?

There were only ten minutes before everyone would be leaving. Polly would make her rounds before loading and locking the safe, wanting us all gone in order not to see the code. I wasn’t about to start another task, I organised my papers to make it seem like I was doing something.

“(Y/N),” Susan tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned in my seat to face her,“I’m really sorry, I have a favour to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Polly had to leave earlier, something about seeing Miss Ada, and she asked me to lock up. But I was too scared to say no and I’m supposed to be going on a date soon after this. Would you mind?”

“Oh, uh...” 

I didn’t think I was really supposed to be by myself, not after the ambush. But then I did storm out and walk to Polly’s myself that same day. I also knew how to lock up, and if Polly found out that I was handed the reigns, she wouldn’t be upset over it.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thank you (Y/N)! I’ll make it up to you!”

I quietly sighed to myself as I watched everyone else leave, wishing I could have said no. None of the Shelby boys were here either, I was completely alone. Starting by locking all the doors, I headed to our takings for the day, not surprised by the amount. Susan had told me the new code, no doubt it would be changed for tomorrow. My movements were quick, wanting to go home as soon as possible. Was Finn still going to be there? If he was, would we speak again?

A knock on the door made me jump, and being over cautious, I picked up an envelope knife, the only sharp thing I could find in a few seconds.

“Hello?” a man’s voice called out. I didn’t recognise them, it wasn’t a worker.“Sorry, I was here earlier, I think I left my watch here. I was trying to use that to bet with, stupid I know.”

“You’ll have to come back in the morning.”

“Please can I come look? My wife bought it for me as an anniversary present and if she knows I tried to use it for betting-”

“I’m sorry, we’re all closed now.”

"Just let me in!" he shouted.

"Goodnight sir!" I shouted back, waiting to see his shadow pass from underneath the door.

When it did, I snuck towards the window, peeking from behind the curtains to see him slumping away. The men who came here were so impatient and rude. As if I was going to let a man come inside whilst I was by myself. I let it go, there was no point dwelling on it any further, going back to locking up properly.

Only a few more minutes passed by before I heard a bang outside, the sound of the back gate slamming into the brick wall. My heart immediately started beating faster, ducking down from any windows, making a beeline for my handbag. My gun was in there, a much better defence weapon, though I still held the knife in my other hand. Keeping low, I wished that I was being paranoid, my stomach twisting when I heard voices and laughter. Tucking the knife into the waist line of my skirt, I placed my free hand over my mouth, I didn't want to scream out of fear; and it was a good thing I did because they started banging on the door.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Alright lads, time to do this the hard way." a muffled voice said, before louder banging perused. They were trying to knock the door down!

I still had the key in my bag, slipping off my heels as soon as I retrieved it. Quickly tiptoeing towards the door, I unlocked it as fast as I could, but soon wishing I hadn't.

"Get back inside." the man towering over the door ordered."And don't scream."

I felt something press against my stomach. Slowly looking down, I let out a shaky breath when I saw it was a gun. Doing as he said, I cautiously stepped backwards, yelping when he snatched the key out of my hand, locking the door again. I didn't even want to attempt using my own gun, one slight move and he could accidentally trigger it. He also took my gun, walking me backwards until I was grabbed by my shoulders from behind, pushed down into a seat.

There were four young boys, I instantly recognised them. These were the ones who had chased us down in that gun fight the other week, the ones after Finn and Bonnie. But this time I had no one to protect me.

"This isn't the aunt, she's way too young!" one exclaimed.

"No, but she is the girlfriend of one of the Shelby's, the youngest one."

"Ex-girlfriend." I snapped.

The one who seemed to be the leader leaned down, placing either hand on the arm rests."Doesn't matter sweetheart. You'll still send a message. We were hoping for someone a bit more important, but you'll do."

"What are you going to do to me?" I craned my neck far away from him.

He had a sadistic smile."Not decided yet. This wasn't part of the plan."

Finn P.O.V

Tapping my fingers on the table, I glanced up at the wall clock for the hundredth time. Why wasn't (Y/N) home yet? It wasn't extremely late but this wasn't like her. And she was supposed to report back home straight away after work. Whichever Peaky Boys were on duty were in for it if they let something happen to her.

Is had been long gone after we finalised the plan to get my girl back. I knew he would be telling me to calm down, that she ended up in the Garrison or she was chatting away to her friends...except, she said they weren't talking to her today.

I leapt out of my chair, grabbing my cap and cost before bolting out of the door. Something didn't feel right. As I made my way to the shop, I spotted Bonnie with another Peaky boy.

"Bonnie!" I yelled.

He turned around, looking disappointed when he saw me. He nodded to the other boy who continued their walk whilst he waited.

"Yes Mr Shelby?" he mockingly said.

"I don't have time for games Bonnie. Is (Y/N) with you?"

"Does it look like she is?"

"Bonnie."

"No, she's not. I haven't seen her since the incident."

"Fuck."

His demeanour changed."What? What's happened to her?"

"I dunno. She hasn't come home yet. It might be nothing but-"

"Was she working today?"

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed now."

We both began running, catching up to the other lad who joined us. The lights were still on in the shop, but I sensed no movement. I knew Polly was at Ada's, perhaps another employer was locking up. She wouldn't have asked (Y/N), not when she was supposed to be coming home straight away.

"Let's check round the back." I ordered.

As we rounded the corner, two bodies were lying on the floor, two of our men. Blood was seeping out of one's head whilst the other flowed out of his abdomen.

"Shit." Bonnie hissed.

"You," I turned to the lad,"go find my brothers. No doubt they're in the Garrison."

"And if they're not?"

"Round up any Blinder. In fact just do that too."

He sprinted away, and I was glad he saw the severity of the situation.

"What we going to do Finn? We could be outnumbered again."

"But what if (Y/N) is in there? We can't just wait for backup."

"I know that! We also can't get ourselves killed in the process."

"Let's try to see what's happening at least. We'll go from there."

(Y/N)'s P.O.V

The four boys were still discussing what to do. It seemed they didn't even have a plan on what to do with Polly. This was buying me time though. Hoping someone had realised I was still here and not home, I subtly glanced around me, trying to figure a way out of this mess. I still had the knife in my waist band that they had missed. But if I made any sudden moves they could instantly shoot me.

"Warren," that was the leader's name,"we need to do something."

"I'm thinking. This is different." he snapped back.

"How? We can still mess her up like we were supposed to do to the other one."

"Please don't hurt me! I've got nothing to do with this!" I pleaded.

"You got the rope?" Warren asked, his accomplice nodding.

I whimpered as he started to tie me to the chair, I kept wriggling and protesting until a gun was held to my head. Why was this all happening to me? And why was this now happening after I had broken up with Finn?

Warren rounded my chair, gripping onto the back and tipping me back. I yelped, trying to keep my crying quiet, until he started dragging me backwards.

"Keep an eye out, I'm going to sort this one out." he said to his friends, who all responded with whoops and hollers. He wasn't, was he?

I went against their orders and started kicking as much as I could, writhing around and screaming as I was dragged into Tommy's office. He placed me in front of the desk, slamming the door shut and sitting opposite me in Tommy's seat.

"I quite like it this side. Makes me feel important." he sighed contently.

"I know the boys pissed you off but please let me go." I shakily said.

"I can't. Sorry. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating a Shelby."

"I'm not with him anymore!"

"Oh, you already dating then?"

He laughed at his own joke, getting up from his chair. Warren perched on the edge of the desk in front of me, arms folded over one another.

"What to do with you eh?"

I said nothing, I was too scared to.

Warren stood up straight, slowly rounding me as he thought."I don't want to start another war. They've already done the damage. But I've got to do something to get back at your boyfriend. Sorry, ex-boyfriend. Perhaps, I should cut all of your hair off. Or mark you up a bit? Or..."

His hands stroked the sides of my neck, over my shoulders, landing in my breasts. He squeezed them and I sobbed harder, hating the creepy sigh that came out of his mouth.

"I understand one of the reasons he liked you."

He tilted my head back to look at him. I was loudly sobbing, petrified at the thought of him touching me more.

"I don't want to be a rapist. I like to touch but I won't do that to you."

He said that as if it were a favour.

"Oh, what's this?" he took out the knife from the waistline of my skirt."I’ve got the perfect idea."

Bonnie P.O.V

We were waiting in the back alley way, urging for backup to come soon. It was definitely (Y/N) in there, and she was helpless. As much as we both wanted to go storming in and shoot any motherfucker that even touched her, it would be a one sided massacre. There were already two more dead boys in the back alley, we couldn't risk anybody else's lives until we outnumbered them.

"I can't wait any longer." Finn said, suddenly standing.

I grabbed onto his coat, pulling him back down behind the fence."Don't be stupid. You think I like sitting here when we can hear her crying? My mind is racing with infinite possibilities of what could be happening to her. But we have to put our feelings aside and do what's right. Unfortunately that's waiting."

"I always hated hearing her cry."

"Funny, weren't you almost always the reason for it?"

"Really? You're going to make snide comments right now?"

"It just slipped out."

"When this...this situation is all over and (Y/N) is safe, we are sitting down and sorting this out."

"It's up to (Y/N)."

"No, there's more to it than that."

"What?"

The argument would have escalated further if not for the sound of footsteps approaching. On our guard, we held our position and breaths in case it wasn't our backup, though we were in luck. The three eldest Shelby's, my dad, Isaiah and a group of Blinders had arrived.

"What the fuck is happening?" Tommy asked quietly.

"(Y/N) is being held hostage inside." Finn explained."It's those four boys from before. We think they'll be armed."

"Why is (Y/N) still here?"

"I don't know, but we don't think there's anyone else in there."

"Fucking kids playing around." Arthur grumbled.

"Right, you five, yo round the front," Tommy motioned to the Blinders,"the rest of us go in through the back. No shooting, not unless they make the first move. If we end up shooting the son, there will be a war."

"There's already a war!" Finn exclaimed.

Tommy just stared at his brother, swiftly moving past him and towards the shop. The group split, knowing their orders. Although I wanted to he the first to burst in and make sure (Y/N) was still alive, I knew I had to hold back. But I was ready for a fight.

(Y/N) P.O.V

We heard two doors being burst through, Warren's face told me that it wasn't anymore of his men. I let out a blood curdling scream, letting them know I was alive.

"You Peaky bitch!" Warren yelled, raising his hand high and slapping me hard across the face, so hard that my chair fell to the side.

I cried out in pain as I hit the floor.

"Fuck, fuck what are they doing here?!"

He ran out of the office, I could only hear muffled shouting but no gunshots. There was definitely a commotion, no doubt a fight had broke out. Tables and chairs were scraping across the floor, thuds and bangs could be heard as the men yelled at one another. During all this the office door opened again, I screamed before seeing Finn.

"Fuck, (Y/N)!" Finn exclaimed as he rushed to me.

"No, Finn, don't look at me, please don't!" I wriggled on the chair, feeling mortified at the state I was in.

Before they had a chance to save me, Warren had used the knife to his advantage. He started cutting at my clothes, ripping them up to expose me. My skirt was hanging together by a thread, one of my stockings was pulled down, my blouse had a sleeve ripped off as well as the back being entirely torn apart. He kept cruelly teasing me, slowly dragging the knife over my skin, whispering the things he would do to me if he had the time. I feared that if the boys hadn't shown up at this minute he would have done something, his trousers had evidently shown he was excited.

"(Y/N), I'm sorry, but please let me help you."

"I don't want you looking at me!"

"I've seen it before!" Finn cleared his throat."Sorry, I just need to get you out of here."

I couldn't stop crying as he sat the chair back up, cutting the ropes off of me. The fight was still going on, we're we gong to have to make a break for it or hide? Finn took off his coat, helping me to my feet and wrapping me in it so I was covered. He kept his arms around me, brushing back hair that had stuck to my wet cheeks.

"Did he touch you?" he gently asked.

I shook my head.

"You can tell me (Y/N), you can tell me anything."

My head wouldn't stop shaking."No, he really didn't. But...but I thought he was going to."

"It's alright, I've got you." he shushed me as I sobbed even harder, burying my face into his chest.

I just needed someone to hold me, I needed to feel protective arms around me. I was saved, but for how long? How were we getting out of this mess?

Tommy barged into the room."She alright?"

Apparently quite easily.

Finn nodded."Just shaken. We all good?"

"Yeah. They all ran. Doesn't mean it's over though."

I felt a lump in my throat as I spoke."They wanted Polly. It sounded like they were going to really hurt her."

"Where is Polly?"

"At Ada's." Finn said.

"And she asked you to lock up?"

I didn't want to get Susan in trouble."No, Polly asked another girl. But that other girl was...busy."

"Well, this is all a huge fucking mistake that luckily worked out for us in the end."

Finn was rubbing circles on my back."What now,Tom?

"Sit her down Finn, I'll get someone to make tea."

Bonnie P.O.V

My eyes burned into the door to Tommy's office. I could hear her voice, she was safe. I didn't know if she was hurt, though from the sounds of it, I didn't hear any fussing over her.

"Son, leave it be." dad sighed beside me.

"What? I can't know if she's OK?"

He just rolled his eyes, perching on the edge of a desk whilst we waited for our next instructions. On queue, Tommy waltzed out the office, I had to hide my disappointment when (Y/N) wasn't behind him. He said mine and my father's names as he brushed past, headed towards the kitchen. We swiftly followed, wondering why we were the only ones summoned.

"Everything alright Tommy?" dad asked, already wanting to know what was happening.

"I need a favour."

"And what would that entail?"

"You got a spare caravan?"

[buckyownsmylife]

Just One - John Winchester smut

The one where John has been obsessed with killing you but now that he found you...

Warnings: smut, as close to hatefucking as I can write, witch!reader, masturbation (f), oral (m, f), dirty talk, degradation laced with praise?, hairpulling kink, namecalling (bitch, whore), John wants it to hurt, slight size kink (blink and you’ll miss), p in v, spanking, biting, unprotected sex, cumplay, unspecified age gap

Word count: 2.2k

A/N:  This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @negans-attagirl​. This most likely celebrates my last time writing for John! Special thanks to my @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ for reading this even though she’s not really into Supernatural! I love you for it!

I knew he was there. Watching. I’d been running away from him for so long, it felt like second nature now - to look over my shoulder, hold my breath when a stranger got too close. Watch the shadows and see if they took the form of a well-built man who wanted nothing more than to see me dead.

But I didn’t just wait around for my inevitable ending, oh no. I’d studied him just as much as he did to me, prepared myself for what was to come as I fled the state and traveled borders in the hopes of throwing him off. I concocted potions and spells and thought about everything I could do to him whenever he found me again.

Most of all, I thought of him. How could I not? Not only was he my main concern in this life, but the man was just walking sin. And if I were to go down, I was determined to at least go down on him before he killed me.

So I slowly left the diner across from the motel I’d been hiding in for the last three weeks and returned to my room, making sure to leave the door unlocked while I took off my clothes. The sound of the door closing behind me wasn’t unmistakable, and we both knew that. “Feel like joining me?” I asked as I sat down on the bed and spread my legs for his eyes, my hand traveling down my body, playing with my nipples before settling between my thighs. He didn’t look confused, not even for a moment.

This sexual tension between us, it’d never been one-sided. It was there from the beginning, electrifying our interactions as desire swirled in the air around us. I was convinced it was the main reason why he couldn’t just let me go.

He leaned his head to the side, but didn’t say anything. He was too focused on what I was doing, the way my fingers rubbed my clit before dipping inside my hole only to come back up wetter, the sounds of my actions filling the air around us.

“I don’t see why not.” The words sent a thrill up my spine, and without even stopping to consider what I was doing, I dropped to my knees before him, reaching out for his jeans. “Can’t let you get off all by yourself.”

I hummed appreciatively as I stuck out my tongue to lick the red head of his cock, already intoxicated with his taste. “Such a gentleman… even when you’re planning to kill me.” His chuckle was like thunder, reverberating through me and making my clit throb as I wrapped my lips around his member.

“It would be a waste if I didn’t put this pretty mouth to work.” His thumb brushed against my lower lip until I licked it and enveloped it with my mouth, making him groan. “So fucking warm. I’m gonna enjoy filling this hole with my cock.”

His words had me clenching around nothing, the overwhelming wetness that dripped from me now slathering the inside of my thighs, no doubt reaching the floor. It made me desperate to please him, desperate to fill my mouth with his cock.

So I wrapped my lips around the head of his member and began sucking, at first looking up to see his darkened, lust-filled eyes before actually closing mine to fully appreciate his taste, the weight of him on my tongue.

I licked every single inch of his skin until my saliva coated his member. It was a beautiful cock, a cock that deserved to be worshiped. I wasn’t one to enjoy being on my knees too much, but his thickness was just too tempting. I needed to pay it the proper respects.

So I took him as well as I could, ignoring the way tears rose to my eyes as I willingly choked myself on his cock, trying my best to breathe through my nose in an effort to reach his navel.

I wasn’t able to. But he didn’t seem to mind, hand wrapped around my hair, forcing my movements as I slobbered all over his dick. “Such a good little cocksucker…” he absentmindedly commented, almost to himself.

“Were you expecting me?” I looked up to see him looking down at me, actually waiting for an answer. So I pulled away, wiped the spit from my jaw before replying honestly, “Always.”

Because, well… How could I sleep peacefully without thinking about the man who wanted to kill me?

But his answer was a chuckle and an almost condescending head pat, his deep warm voice making me even wetter when he complimented, “Good girl.” God, he could kill me right now. I’d go willingly and happily.

I eagerly sucked him off a bit longer, losing myself in the almost-sounds that I could pick up from his body: the little groans and pants, the way he cleared his throat instead of growling his desire for me. He wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t show his satisfaction to a little witch.

I could live with that.

“Stop that.” His words were accompanied by a harsh tug on my hair, pulling me up until I was standing on my tip toes, my face mere inches from his. “Wanna fuck you now. I can kill you tomorrow.”

The fact that he never kissed me didn’t escape me. This was a quick fuck, it would not be mistaken as anything else. Still, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t drag as much fun out of it as I possibly could… especially considering these might very well be my last hours of living.

“So you want me?” I questioned, smirking at his answering huff. He didn’t want to admit it, of course - that would be recognizing I had some sort of power over him. So he opted to tighten his grip on my hair until I moaned from the pleasurable pain, eyes sparkling in their darkness as he took in just how desperate I was for him.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he settled for saying as I laughed. “Always a fucking tease. Is your cunt as bitter as your soul, brat?” I bit my lip as he threw me on the bed, already anticipating his next move.

“Find out for yourself.” His expression made it clear that he was doubtful when he tore off my underwear and threw the scraps of it over his shoulder, pulling me to the edge of the bed by my ankles without much care.

He pressed on the inside of my thighs to keep my legs spread for him, and when his tongue licked a line up my cunt, I clenched around nothing, eyes closing for just a second to relish in the barely-there sensation.

“Oh, fuck…” His voice was barely over a whisper, but I still heard it and when I opened my eyes to look at him, he was staring directly at his meal, like he couldn’t believe what he had just tasted. “So fucking sweet…”

He went back there with a newfound hunger, and although I knew he wasn’t doing this to make me cum, I also knew he would achieve that - easily. It didn’t take many of his long swipes over my hole, the twirls around my clit to make me gasp for him, hands flying down to pull on his hair.

I think the only reason he didn’t slap them away was because he seemed to like the slight sting I provided him.

“Fucking cum, bitch,” he growled at some point, surprising me until he revealed why it was that he wanted me to orgasm. “I want to drink all of your essence before I shove my cock into you, make sure it’ll really sting.”

But I knew it was more than that - I knew he wanted more of my taste. It was everywhere now, dripping from his beard, smearing the inside of my thighs, but he kept his eyes focused on me, waiting for my breaking point.

I saw embers of flames when it arrived. Maybe it predicted my death at the stake, but I couldn’t mind it. Not when John was rising to his full height and very easily turning me around to lay on my stomach, keeping my legs dangling off the edge of the bed when he kicked them apart.

I was trapped under his much larger body and I didn’t mind it at all. He shoved my face against the bed, like he didn’t want to see it as he slowly started to stretch me out.

I bit my lower lip as I struggled to adjust around his thickness, and by the sounds John was releasing, I could see he was just as overwhelmed by me and the pussy he wanted to destroy.

I couldn’t believe how good it felt to be ravished by John Winchester. No one had ever fucked me like this before, and I was sure he knew, with the melodic moans that kept slipping from my lips, try as I might to reel them in.

“Those fucking sounds…” He groaned behind me, seconds before his hand landed harshly on the right cheek of my ass, making me whine even louder. “You’re a filthy little whore, aren’t you?”

I was too far gone to even try to deny it, fucking myself back against his delicious thick cock, desperate to cum again, this time feeling completely full of him.

“Who would have thought…” He panted, hips maintaining their onslaught against me. “Nasty fucking witch, such a tight little pussy.” Each word was accompanied by a particularly brutal thrust and I relished in it. I relished in witnessing the great John Winchester get carried away because of my body.

“Fuck,” he cursed after he managed to locate my sweet spot, which in turn had me instinctively clenching around him. “Why do you feel so fucking good?”

Under him, I just giggled, my hand easily locating the spot above where we were connected so I could rub myself to an orgasm. “I’m convinced you’re the devil, little witch.”

Stifling a laugh, I started to move my hips back so I could fuck myself on him, showing him how I liked to be treated - even harder and rougher than he was already treating me. And because I really was a brat, I couldn’t help but taunt, “Do you feel sorry you have to destroy it?”

I knew he understood I was referring to my pussy, and when his hand slapped mine away so he could take over the motions over my clit, I closed my eyes to let bliss take me.

“Almost,” he grunted, a confession I almost lost in the fog of my high. But here lied an opportunity, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away without a fight.

“I mean… you could just keep it,” I offered, barely over a whisper so as not to anger the man who kept fucking me. I didn’t want him to stop his movements, so I hoped even if he did get pissed at my suggestion, he’d just take it out on me. “Use it whenever you want.”

I didn’t get a response from him - at least, not verbally. But he did speed up his movements, pounding me so hard the bed started to hit the wall and I knew we were seconds away from having the neighbors banging on it, telling us to keep it down, but I couldn’t care less.

Not when John was burying his face in the crook of my neck, beard tickling me as he bit on my shoulder to keep his roar from reverberating in the room when he shot his cum deep inside of me.

He didn’t wait even a second before pulling out. I missed his weight on top of me, but the feeling of his cum slowly slipping from my used pussy was enough to give me some comfort.

“Shit, I really opened you up, huh?” He chuckled, rubbing his cream around my hole before pushing it back into me, making me whine. “I’m still fucking hard. Did you put a spell on me, brat?”

I laughed as he massaged my ass, apparently incapable of fully retreating his touch from my skin. “Is that why I’m still aroused?” He insisted, rutting his very much, still hard member against my thigh. “Tell me.”

Stretching, I giggled at his silly accusation. “I think I just turn you on, old man,” I teased, wiggling my ass at him. He took the bait and spanked it, before I felt his weight leave the bed altogether.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower, wash you off of me,” he explained, stopping at the door of the bathroom to stare at me. “You better be there when I come out,” he warned and I bit my lip, understanding exactly what he meant.

“I don’t think I can walk if I tried,” I giggled, but he just tipped his head back, humming noncommittally. Before long, I heard the shower turning on, the sound of the water running down the drain almost lulling me to sleep.

I made sure to leave my panties right next to the note I wrote for him to find when he got out of the shower. Three simple words, a promise: “Until next time”.

[flareish]

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it. 

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse. 

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes. 

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone. 

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle.  You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste. 

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day. 

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt. 

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.” 

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day. 

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text.  Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo. 

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong. 

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come. 

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching. 

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for. 

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge. 

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it. 

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms. 

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

[softxsuki]

hi, ok to start this off. im going to mention suicide in this ask-i know your okay with topics of suicide for fics if its comfort based, i just hope this isnt too explict.

so long-story short, everyday has been exausthing for me. extremely tiring, sometimes it even tires me to breathe. i feel like a puppet being forced to be on stage. i wish i could stay in bed the whole day but i have chores to do, errands to run. i wish i could, but i cant just shut myself out from the whole world.

im constantly told how i need to 'try harder' 'do better' 'youre being so lazy' im trying my best, but im not sure its enough.

i always wish i couldved died in my sleep and it irritates me when i wake up in the morning. im not even trying that hard to hide what im going through, i dont really express my emotions like other people. i tend to be a little more closed off than others but no one actually noticed.

im scared of dying-terrified, but right now. i feel like thats the only option i have to escape this endless cycle. its like my heart is telling me not to but my mind and body wants it, my mind and body want to rest.

kuroo is one of my first and favorite comfort character. could i make an urgent request where gn!reader is silently crying in their room, thinking about how tired they are and how suicide is running through their mind. and kuroo walks in on reader like this, where it ends up with reader opening up and telling him about all the shit weve been through and how suicide is something reader is very close to doing. how kuroo comforts us through it?

i dont want to dump this all on you because i know it can be a lot of pressure for you. you dont have to write this fic but if you plan to, you can take your time with it. im aware your a human being too, i know you have a life outside of social media and i dont want to interfere with that. but thank you so so much in advance. i hope you have a lovevly day<3

Kuroo Comforts Reader Who's Having Suicidal-Thoughts

Pairing: Kuroo x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of suicidal-thoughts, feelings of wanting to give up, please don't read if these topics will be triggering to you rather than comforting!

Genre: Angst, Comfort

Post-Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: In which Kuroo finds you crying in your room and comforts you after you open up to him about your suicidal-thoughts and everything you've been dealing with.

[A/N: Hey thank you so much for trusting me with your urgent request <3 I tried to write it as quickly as I could for you! I won't say too much, as I think Kuroo does his best to comfort you in this oneshot. Hopefully his words reach you and provide you with some comfort! I'm here if you ever need to talk to anyone about anything <3 ]

***I really need to change this picture. This man is laughing during these serious moments 😭😔

When would it end? The endless cycle of having no motivation to do anything except stay in bed and just sleep as the world continues to move around you.

Silent tears make their way down your face as horrible thoughts fill your head, tempting you to just go ahead and end your suffering yourself. You were terrified, but it was beginning to feel like the only way out of that endless cycle of nothingness.

You felt truly alone there in your room, as hot tears rolled down your face. You look around your room remembering the days when things were different; when you didn’t feel tired all the time and didn’t have to drag yourself out of bed each morning to do something as simple as feed yourself. Where did it all go wrong?

You couldn’t even remember when you first started feeling this way–it’s as if you just woke up one morning and this uncontrollable exhaustion took over your life.

Would anyone even care if I just left this world?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your window.

“Psst, what’re you doing? Open up before I fall,” you hear a hushed voice whisper from outside your window, making you jump at the sudden noise.

“Tetsurou?” You croak out, your voice slightly raspy from not talking in a while, “What’re you doing?”

You quickly open the window and let the raven-haired boy into your room, while hiding your face from him, not wanting him to see your puffy face from all the tears you had cried.

“What am I doing? What have you been doing? I’ve called you a million times and you didn’t answer. I got worried so I came over.”

There was your answer for you. He was worried. Kuroo would care if you suddenly left. The thought made more tears pool in your eyes as you cried again for the millionth time that day.

“Hey hey, are you crying? I’m sorry Y/N, did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you sob even harder, profusely wiping your eyes, but the tears just wouldn’t stop, “I just forgot that there was someone out there that could worry about me.”

“Huh? Of course I worry about you. I thought something happened to you, I even forgot to use the front door and climbed the side of your house like a mad man,” he blurts.

It was then that you noticed the Volleyball uniform still on his body that was drenched in sweat along with the fresh beads of sweat that were rolling down his face.

“I’m sorry,” you cry again, knowing he ran straight from Volleyball practice to check up on you.

“Y/N it’s okay, really. I’m just glad you’re not hurt or anything, but clearly something’s wrong. What is it? You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as Kuroo takes a seat on the floor in front of you with crossed legs, not wanting to dirty your bed with his sweat as he patiently waits for you to explain. It takes a while for you to open up about how you had been feeling everyday for who knows how long. You were usually closed off, never really verbal about your emotions to anyone, but you knew that you needed to tell someone–at least him. So, you gather your nerves and let it all spill.

“I’ve just been feeling so tired, Kuroo. Physically and mentally, I’m exhausted every single day of my life and I’m tired of it. It wears me out just breathing–why does living have to be so exhausting? All I want to do is stay in bed and let the world continue as I just rest, but I can’t. I have to get up and drag myself to run some errands or do chores around the house,” you explain, looking at the patterns on your ceiling, not prepared to see how he was reacting yet.

But Kuroo was still seated in the same position, listening intently to every word you had to say, though it pained him to hear what you had been going through all on your own without him knowing.

“And I-” you swallow, getting ready to drop the bombshell that had been weighing heavily on your shoulders for the past few days, “Sometimes I just feel like the only way out of this is just dying. I just want to be at peace, I don’t think I can keep moving forward, Tetsurou. But then at the same time, I’m so scared of death. I don’t want to die, but what if it's my only way out? My heart is screaming at me to stay and keep fighting, but my mind and body just want to rest and be at peace already. I’m. so. tired.”

Fresh tears pour out of your eyes and you roughly rub them away, irritated that you kept on crying when you didn’t want to.

Kuroo just looks at you with sad eyes, hating that you were going through all this alone, but relieved that at least he was there with you now before you had the chance to take matters into your own hands. He was incredibly concerned for you, but as your eyes slowly moved to him, he plasters a small smile on his face. He didn’t want you to think that he was just pitying you when it was a lot deeper than that.

“I had no idea,” he finally lets out, “But thank you for trusting me enough to tell me now.”

He shifts slightly as you nod your head in acknowledgment, worried that your words would scare him off at any moment, but then he speaks again.

“Y’know sometimes our brain and body don’t want the right things or the same things that our hearts want,” he pauses for a moment to read your expression, but you’re just quietly listening to him from your bed, “Not to be one of those guys that relate everything to their passion, but it’s just like with Volleyball. Near the end of a match we’re physically and mentally burned out to the point where our bodies want to give up and rest; however, our hearts…my heart pushes me beyond my limits with the desire and need to win that game no matter how physically and mentally exhausted I am.”

The analogy makes perfect sense to you, and almost feels a little scary how much you’re able to relate to that sensation without even playing Volleyball.

“Sometimes life can be a pain, but the good news is that there’s only so far we can fall before we reach rock bottom, and from there, the only way left to go is up.” he points up while looking up and you follow his lead, finding your head moving on it’s own as you follow the direction his finger is pointing in, looking up at your ceiling.

“Life will never give you more than what you can handle even if it feels like you’ve already gone beyond what you’re capable of handling. You may be on the very brink, where you feel so exhausted and all you want to do now is give up, but your heart–your driving force–is keeping you here. That’s how you know you’re still fighting, so keep fighting, please,” a bit of emotion finally laces through his voice, which shocks you slightly as Kuroo wasn’t the type to let his emotions get the best of him.

He clears his throat quickly and wipes his eyes slightly before continuing to speak once again.

“You know you’re not alone through this. I’m right here with you, you just have to take baby steps. Take one day at a time, doing small things until you’re able to motivate yourself again–which will happen!”

“Can that actually happen?” You ask hopefully.

“Of course and I’ll be here to help you get to that point one day again. If you’re too tired to leave the house for something, I’ll get it for you. If you can’t make your bed or clean up, I’ll tidy up for you. If you can’t find it in you to cook for yourself, I’ll get you some food. And from there we can try doing these things together until doing them on your own doesn’t feel so exhausting anymore. You’ll make it through this rough patch in your life, I swear. So, don’t let your brain and body dictate what happens in your life; as long as your heart is yelling for you to keep going, you keep going,” he looks up at you with teary eyes though a big smile is on his face as he looks at you with eyes full of care, “Just don’t give up on yourself. I’m rooting for you, so you should be too, but for now I’ll be cheering you on ten-fold, to make up for all those thoughts trying to take you away–I won’t let them take you.”

“Okay,” you say with tears in your eyes, not even caring that you were crying again for the hundredth time that day, Kuroo was willing to help and that in itself was enough to make you hopeful–it was a nice change from the constant negative words that were usually thrown at you from the people around you.

“Thank you Tetsurou,” you whisper to him.

Kuroo finally gets to his feet and brings you into his warm arms. You didn’t even care if he was covered in sweat, it just felt nice to be cared for like that.

“Anytime, just remember that you’re never alone, not as long as I have a say in it. I’ll be here everyday for you. Baby steps,” he whispers into the crook of your neck as you feel drops of water drip onto your shoulder.

“Baby steps,” you repeat, holding him tighter in your arms, allowing him to spill some of his own emotions while it was your turn now to comfort him.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 1/31/2022

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, anger, humiliation, control.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: This is likely the second to last chapter in this series! I’m excited to have another Birch series finished in the near future! And then I can work on Loki’s installment because you all are so dang convincing.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Chapter 6: I can cry, beg and whine

Thor was insatiable. That was the only word you could think to describe him but it didn’t feel strong enough. His hunger, his persistence, his complete control over you was indescribable. He held your apartment, your job, your very existence in his grip. 

You woke up to him beside you in your double bed, too small for both of you but it only gave him a reason to be on top of you. You went to work late more days than not that week. And even when you didn’t go home to find him on your couch, he wasn’t long behind. 

There was no hiding from him in Birch and there was no way out. It was a truth you denied for too long because you weren’t from there. But it wasn’t about the town, it wasn’t the town that trapped you. It was the people, it was the attitude. It was those bikers.

Friday came and he was there waiting but he wasn’t sprawled out on your sofa as usual. He wore his colours, ready to go somewhere. 

He combed his fingers through the tails of his blond hair as you unzipped your jacket and set your bag on the shoe rack. He checked himself in the mirror that hung along the entryway and planted his hand on the wall as he leaned over you.

“Put on something nice,” he purred as he grabbed your chin and tilted your face towards him, “if it wasn’t so cold, I’d say something slutty.”

You didn’t have a chance to grimace before he kissed you. You swallowed your revulsion and waited for him to let you go. As you knelt to remove your boots, he tickled along the back of your head.

“Mmm, I’m almost tempted to let you stay down there,” he taunted, “but we’re already late.”

“Late for what?” you stood and brushed past him. He followed closely and groped your ass. You were almost used to his incessant touching.

“I got business tonight,” he said.

“Your business,” you insisted as you entered the bedroom. You made no move to change and sat on the bed as you rubbed your eyes, “I have no interest in whatever it is you deal in and I’m dead tired.”

“I know I’ve been… hard on you,” he smirked as there was no true remorse in his tone, “but how am I supposed to help myself?”

You looked at him sharply and snarled. “I really don’t feel like going to the bar--”

“We’re not going down there,” he interrupted, “but the girls are expecting you.”

He went to the closest and slid open the door. You shook your head at the wall and didn’t move. You knew there was no arguing with him. It made your blood boil. You hated that feeling of helplessness. You hated his kind of men and how they used women like things, painting their desires as your own.

“This is nice,” he tossed a forgotten pair of leggings with leather strips along the side on the bed and a silver top with trumpet sleeves slit along the inside, “bet your ass looks wonderful in those.”

“Can’t I have one night--”

“It’s business. The women have their time and we have ours. Get up.” He said sternly, “though I don’t mind helping you into these.”

He lifted the leggings and stretched the high elastic waist and bit his lip. You stood and snatched them from him. He did not leave, didn’t even back away as you turned and dropped them back on the bed. You stripped off your wool pants and the striped blouse. 

You wiggled into the leggings, embarrassed at how your ass jiggled and he purred in response. The top was tight across your tits and pushed them up dangerously against the neckline. You never wore it because that very reason; too much attention where you didn’t need it.

“See,” he snapped his knuckles against your ass, “sexy as hell.”

“You gonna tell me where we’re going?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

“Just a little get together,” he framed your face with his large hands, “with your Birch boys.”

He said nothing else as he latched onto your arm and turned to drag you behind him. You barely lifted your feet in your reluctance but you sensed his impatience growing. You contented yourself that in the least he would be distracted by other people long enough to leave you alone for just a few minutes.

💀

The motorcycle ripped through the early evening air and you shivered against his back. The air was still bitter but the roads were cleared of snow enough to maneuver the steel beast. He drove out of town and along the country roads, those were more treacherous than the main row.

You pulled up to the farmhouse, the old lot recently renewed as the house shone from within. Thor slowed and killed the engine. He flipped out the kickstand and nudged you. You climbed off and he followed your lead. He shoved the keys in his pocket and unstrapped his helmet as he let out a ‘brrr’.

“Come on,” he nodded to the porch steps as you undid your own helmet. 

You walked up to the house and he knocked. He took your helmet from you as you waited for an answer. You heard voices and the approach of footsteps from the other side. The door opened and Steve’s girl smiled out at you and pushed open the screen door.

“Oh! You’re here!” She chimed, “I used your mother’s lemon meringue recipe. And oh,” she beamed at you, “we haven’t seen you lately.”

“Work,” you said, it wasn’t exactly a lie, “it’s nice to see you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything, I--”

“I have everything under control,” she clapped her hands, “we’re just trying to figure out the shaker. Come in.”

She backed up and Thor held the door as you passed through first. You took your boots off at the mat and she beckoned you further in. “Thor, the guys are just in the living room,” she pointed to her left, “we’re in the kitchen,” she motioned behind her, “working on dinner.”

“Mmm,” you grumbled and nodded. Before you could step forward, Thor caught you and drew you back to him. He kissed you and you bore it in simmering humiliation.

“Have fun,” he squeezed your ass and let you go as he turned to find the other men.

You huffed and turned your attention to Steve’s girl as she waited awkwardly. She rubbed her hands together as she walked with your down the hallway. “Steve’s like that, you know? Touchy feely. I get so… embarrassed…” her voice trailed off, “sorry, I shouldn’t--”

“I always wondered about you and him. You’re an odd pair,” you said.

“Well, it’s not anything I expected but, um… well, this is our house--” she gestured around her as she led you into the kitchen, “you know, he bought it for me.”

“Hey, don’t change the subject,” you said a bit too tersely, “you said Steve embarrasses you but you--”

“And Thor does it to you so… you know that’s how they are,” she squeaked.

“All of them,” Bucky’s girl said and you only noticed her as she shook the metal shaker, “it’s why we need alcohol.”

You exhaled and came up to the counter as Steve’s girl went to the stove and lifted the lid on the skillet to stir the contents, “please, don’t put a lot of gin in mine. I don’t do well with alcohol.”

You leaned on the marble as you watched the other woman pour the bright pink liquid into a finely shaped glass on a stem, “looks better than last time.” She turned and set it beside the stove for the hostess.

“So…” you frowned as you thought and she began to measure gin and all the other ingredients before her, “why are you with them--”

“Why are you with Thor?” she interrupted, “we saw how much you hate him at the bar. We felt the same but don’t act stupiid like you don’t know what’s going on. These men are given everything they want and when they aren’t they take it anyway.”

“He takes care of my ma, though--” Steve’s girl intoned.

“And that makes it all hunky dorey,” the other sneered, “she sucks at saying it out loud but she can’t stand Steve as much as we can’t stand the rest of them.”

The other woman was quiet as she replaced the lid and reached for the drink. She fidgeted and looked down at her frilly apron. She was dressed like some housewife out of the suburban fifities, although her dress was still uncomfortably short.

“What good does it do to say it?” she mumbled.

Bucky’s girl mixed another cocktail and poured it pristinely before she slid it over to you, “I’m getting the hang of this but I’m happy the men are sticking to beer. My arm’s getting tired.”

You took the glass and tasted the drink. You hummed as it surprised you. “Aren’t you a bartender?”

“Server. I open beers and believe it or not but they don’t serve margaritas down at The Asp.”

You shrugged and kept drinking as she made her own drink and turned to rest her elbow on the counter lazily.

“I should’ve warned you. Not that it would’ve helped but I could’ve,” she said.

“No, it doesn’t matter. It’s like you said. They take whatever they want. Nothing we can do, is there?”

You were silent as you all sipped. The gin warmed your chest and you let it sink into your veins. Your commiseration was grim but comforting. To think that you weren’t entirely alone was as heartening as it was saddening.

💀

The alcohol heightened your irritation as dinner ended. You were left to help clear the table in your matronly duties with the other women. You were insulted at the outdated binary of the arrangements and it felt less like a get together and more of a job.

The men, Steve, Bucky, Thor, and Loki returned to the living room and their voices threaded the air as the dishes clinked in your grasp. The blonde biker’s brother was unexpected but he seemed just unhappy to be there as you. There were a few minutes during the meal where you sympathised with him as he rolled his eyes and failed to hide any ounce of his spite for Thor.

When you finished up, Steve’s girl took several more beers to the men before she returned to grab her glass of water. You took the vodka cooler, your third drink of the night, and went along with them to the living room.

You hung back as Steve’s girl neared him and was drawn down beside him impatiently, his arm around her shoulders as he almost spilled her water. Bucky’s girl sat beside him and tolerated his arm around her waist though he was less clingy than his accomplice. Loki stood by the window and stared out into the dull snow as Thor perched in the cozy armchair.

You went to sit beside Steve’s girl but you were stopped by a tut. 

“I’ve got a seat for you, kitten,” Thor slurred. The beer was thick in his voice, as potent as the liquor in your stomach. You turned to him as he rubbed his thigh.

“I’m fine, here,” you insisted and his smile fell.

“You know I wasn’t asking, kitty,” he warned, “come on and be a good girl. We’re guests. Let’s not make a scene.”

You stood in front of the couch and glared at him. You sighed softly and pushed your shoulders back. You marched over to him and turned your bottle to splash it over his front. You acted surprised at your feigned clumsiness and took a step back.

“Oops,” you uttered coyly, “how careless--”

He was up on his feet in a moment as he slammed his own bottle down on the small table beside the chair. He knocked yours from your hand entirely and the air stilled with tension. His blue eyes flared as he grabbed your wrist.

“Better help me get cleaned up,” he growled and looked over your shoulder, “excuse us.”

You resisted him for a moment but he yanked and nearly took you off your feet. He spun and kept hold of you as he forced you after him and stormed from the room. You stumbled out into the hall behind him and he flung you ahead of him. 

He gripped the back of your neck and ripped open a door to his right. He shoved you inside and you hit the sink as the clasp clicked loudly. He crowded you in the half bath as you braced yourself against the porcelain, the scent of beer tingling in your nostrils. You stared at his dark shirt, stained with his drink.

“I thought I trained you better, kitten,” he snarled, “just when I thought you were starting to purr.”

“Fuck you,” you said as the alcohol thinned the filter between your thoughts and your words.

“Oh, I can make that happen,” he hissed as he lifted the hem of his shirt and tore it off. He hung it over the towel bar and felt along his damp torso, “I can’t let you bite and not give you a good swat for it.”

“Don’t be an ass. It’s a drink. You can’t just talk to me like that. I’m not some animal--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he covered your mouth and pushed you against the sink, “I’m not listening. That’s not how this works…” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “you realise how bad this is? You challenged me in front of men; I won’t have it. We’re past niceties, kitten.”

His hands slipped over your hips and to your ass. He scooped you up and rested you atop the porcelain as he crushed his body against yours. He grabbed your chin and smothered your lips with his as he rolled his pelvis against you.

His hand fell and crawled along your throat. You turned your head away and gasped as his fingers hooked under the elastic of your leggings.

“What are you--”

“Don’t play dumb,” he nipped at your throat, “we’ve done this enough.”

“Not here,” you pushed on his shoulders, “you can’t--”

“I can do--” his other hand fell to your waist and he gripped the elastic, “whatever--” his hands snaked around you as his fingers slid between the fabric and your skin, “I want.”

He ripped your leggings down with your panties and forced them down your legs. He pulled until your legs wet bent in front of you and you were curled awkwardly atop the sink as you struggled with him.

“Stop-- I’ll be good--”

“Too late,” he shoved his hand between your legs and felt around roughly. 

The fabric of your leggings trapped your thighs and kept you bent against him painfully as he hunched over you. He pulled his hand away to fumble with his fly and shifted as he pushed down his zipper. He set his feet firmly and hooked his other arm around you as he pressed his tip along your folds.

He guided himself blindly over your cunt, his beer-laced breath choked you as your head spun. He rested his forehead against yours as your head was propped up against the mirror. He lined himself up with your opening and thrust bluntly inside of you. You exclaimed in surprise as the intrusion blazed through you.

You were drunk enough that it felt good but you were aware enough of what was happening. You slapped him and his head snapped to the side. He pulled back and slammed into you even deeper. He brought his lips to yours again and kissed you sloppily as he rocked against you. The counter groaned under both of your weight as you tried to hold in your voice.

He sped up as your breath quickened in time with his. You closed your eyes as he once more descended to your through and kissed and nipped at your skin. His hips tilted into you steadily as you wriggled against him.

He pushed his hand between your bodies and pressed two fingers to your clit. He rubbed as he kept his pace and you murmured as your drunken body responded. You dug your nails into his shoulders and your feet arched as the ripple began to flow over you. Your peak rose fast and you cried out without restraint as it took you off guard.

His own grunts added the furor and he moved faster atop you. His knee hit the front of the counter and he sunk to his limit as he quaked. He stopped and held himself as deep as he could, sliding back slowly only to ease back in as he came in long strokes.

He stopped and rested his head in the crook of your neck, his blond hair falling forward as he caught his breath. You shuddered and nudged his shoulders until he stood. He slipped out of you and sent a chill up your spine. Your body fell limp and you dropped from the counter onto shaky legs.

You felt his cum trickle down your thigh as he reached for the toilet paper and wiped himself clean. Your vision hazed as you reached for some as well and kept the mess from dripping into your panties. He cleared his throat and turned to examine his wet tee shirt. You pulled up your leggings and sniffed.

 It was all so sudden it was as if nothing had happened at all. You held yourself up against the wall and a knock came from the door. He opened it without pretense and greeted Steve’s girl as she peered inside nervously and glanced at you briefly. 

She held a folded shirt in her hands as she blinked meekly. She knew, they all knew. You had no doubt that they’d heard it all.

“Um, hopefully this fits,” she said as she handed the tee shirt to him, “and, we… we’re just about to have dessert.”

“Great. I’ve got quite the appetite,” he replied, “we’ll be out soon.”

He closed the door and turned back to look at himself in the mirror. He brushed past you so you were flush to the wall as he pulled on the shirt. It was too tight around his thick arms and his broad chest. He tidied his hair and rolled his shoulders as he admired his reflection.

“I think now you’ll be good, kitten,” he winked and reached to touch your cheek cloyingly, “best not to get my hackles up again.”

[utopianvoices]

past, present, future → b.chan

synopsis: Your best friend drags you to his high school reunion against your will, and never have you encountered such chaos. Alternatively, you go on the journey of making more friends, and a potential lover.

genre: high school acquaintances to lovers au; fluff, one second of angst

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 14.4k

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, kinda dialogue heavy (oops)

note: i am BACK with this mess of a fic. it took me too long to finish this, and i apologise for any shitty writing :3 thanks to my little babie @curanonemu​ for making sure i finished this and supporting me as usual muAH. new formatting on posts too weeeee (new year, new me fsdhfgs jk no)!! also, synopsis kinda sucks i’m sorry :P hope y’all enjoy! x

i.

You did not want to go for your high school reunion dinner. 

High school is a time for many that is either the best, or worst time of their lives. Forever friends are found there and painstakingly embarrassing memories are made in run down buildings with people you care about. Except, you didn’t have any such attachments. 

Those three years were nothing but a filler for you as you studied, helped out in the library, and hung out with one person you called your best friend. 

And on top of it all, it wasn’t even a high school reunion dinner meant for you.

The night the bomb is dropped on you, Changbin walks into the living room of the apartment you both share just outside the grounds of your university, and goes straight to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal because cooking and Changbin did not get along well. The apartment was way cheaper than the dorms your school provided, and it definitely did not have any nosy RAs who were just out there to torture students for their own viewing pleasure.

On top of all that, you could live with your best friend and not some random stranger who might very much as well be a psychotic killer. Perhaps, Changbin could have some questionable habits, like talking to himself in a baby voice while looking in the mirror, but nothing that threatened your life. 

You hear Changbin’s phone ringing from the kitchen as you aimlessly flip through the shows available on Netflix, deciding which new show you should watch and commit to, when your best friend’s boisterous laughter fills your ears. Used to the noise, you roll your eyes before increasing the volume of the TV, finally deciding to rewatch Sherlock.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re about to solve the known mystery together with Benedict Cumberbatch when Changbin walks in front of the TV, automatically eliciting a whine from you as you crane your neck left and right to catch a glimpse of the screen. 

“What the fuck, Bin?” You finally yell, frowning at the boy in front of you. Realising that he probably wanted something, considering the fact that he wasn’t moving till you asked him, you switch the TV off and settle back into the sofa, throwing him a death glare. “What do you want from me, pest?”

Something’s definitely amiss when you see Changbin shuffling his feet and looking at the ground, a guilty smile ever-present on his face. 

“Whatever it is, my answer is no,” you say distantly, leaning back into the sofa with crossed arms. “So give it up.”

“Oh c’mon Y/n! At least hear me out?” Changbin cries out loudly, dropping onto his knees with clasped hands. 

Heaving out a sigh, you slowly unfold your arms and lean forward, eyebrows raised as you nod at the poor boy in front of you. “I’ll hear you out. But don’t expect me to say yes.”

“Um...” Changbin starts, eyes darting around the room as he tries to find the right words. “So my high school friends are having a reunion dinner next week and I told them I’d go, but I also said I’d bring you along and they were too happy and so now I think you’ll have to come with me but-”

“Woah woah woah, a high school reunion party? Absolutely not.” 

It’s not like you had anything against his friends. You did have brief interactions with a few of them in high school and you knew they were pretty decent lads, but there was no way you were following Changbin to what was meant to be a friends’ gathering. 

“But why not!” Changbin whines, waddling over to you on his knees. “It’ll be really fun!”

“Yeah, fun for you,” you deadpan, staring at your pitiful best friend who has now resorted to throwing you puppy eyes. “They’re your friends after all, not mine.”

“That’s right. But they could be. Don’t you think it’s time you start finding more friends who are not me?” 

Changbin’s once pitiful eyes held something other than desperation at that moment; they held concern. 

It was true that you had no other friend other than Changbin. You knew lots of people, sure, but you wouldn’t call them your friends. With no friends to your name other than that one, it also wasn’t hard to guess that you never dated too. But all that mattered is that you were fine with it, right?

“You know that I don’t need any other friends. You’re more than enough for me. Truthfully, I don’t think I could deal with another Changbin in my life.” 

Your words incite chuckles from Changbin, but that doesn’t stray him from his original goal. 

“How about this,” he starts, opting to sit cross-legged on the floor because his knees were starting to hurt way too much. “You come to the reunion with me, and the moment you feel uncomfortable, we both can leave no questions asked. Deal?”

As tempting as that sounded, you knew it was not fair to cut Changbin’s precious time with his friends just because you did not want to hang out with new people. “That’s not fair to you.” 

Shaking his head, Changbin stares at you, the fire in his eyes clearly visible, and you know that he had made up his mind. “I don’t care. It’s either you follow me and we can leave whenever, or I don’t go at all.”

There was no turning back now. You knew that in the end, what Changbin wants, he gets. 

You sigh numbly before nodding your head in defeat, dreading the day that was to come where you had to leave the comfort of your apartment. 

With no warning, you’re engulfed in a tight hug by a nuisance chanting “thank you” a million times. You ease into the hug, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light squeeze, before pulling back to see that he had a smile similar to the one on your face. 

“I guess you’re right about me needing more friends. I can’t be annoying you for the rest of my life, right?”

ii.

You’re once again reminded why you don’t go for social gatherings as you take in the various clothes strewn all over your room. 

“Hey- Woah, what happened here?” Changbin asks, bewildered at the sight in front of him. “It looks like a hurricane hit your room or something.”

“Yes, it’s called Hurricane Y/n Is Screwed,” you reply sarcastically, before sinking down into your bed in defeat. Looking up at your best friend, you decide to give it a shot and put on your most pitiful face. “Do I really have to go?” 

“Yes, you really have to go,” Changbin replies without sparing you another glance, as he sifts through the heap of clothes on your bed. “And get that ugly look off your face, please. It makes me want to barf.” 

Flipping your best friend off, you manoeuvre yourself such that you’re facing Changbin, and look upon him in curiosity. 

After what felt like forever, pieces of clothing are thrown at you, along with a reminder that you had three hours before you had to leave. 

“Three?!” You screech, causing Changbin to wince and cover his ears. “You should’ve told me earlier so that I have more time!” 

“What are you so loud for, you damn pterodactyl? And three hours is more than enough. We’re just going to a cheap restaurant a few blocks away because we’re all broke college students.” 

Huffing at your insolent best friend, you grab the clothes he threw at you and make your way to the bathroom, not bothering to contemplate his decision because you knew he had pretty good taste in fashion. In fact, half the clothes you had in your wardrobe were bought with him as your advisor, so you’re really in no position to criticise his choices.

You stare at your reflection and let out a nervous breath; you weren’t used to meeting new people, and there was no way you were going to be able to handle a hoard of newly turned adults. The last thing you wanted was to cut Changbin’s time short with his friends, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you make a promise to yourself that you’ll get through the night by whatever means. Even if it meant hours of torture.

Changbin, with absolutely no urgency, is sitting on the couch watching the fourth Harry Potter movie, when you walk into the living room, makeup half done and still dressed in your stay-at-home clothes. Boys, you think.

“I think I need to know who and how many people will be there,” you finalise, watching Changbin pick up the remote and pausing the movie at exactly when Cedric dies; poor chap. “ So that I can, you know, mentally prepare myself.”

“You really don’t, but okay. There’ll be nine of us, including you. Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix from the dance team, Jeongin and Seungmin from the baseball team, Chan from the swimming team, soccer team, and honours board, and Jisung who was pretty much useless like me.” 

“Wow.” 

“In my defense, you’ve seen all of these dudes at least once,” Changbin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, they’re all really nice and fun so you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Says you,” you mutter under your breath, before returning to your room to prepare for your doom.

iii.

The sign of the restaurant flickers periodically as you stand in the middle of the street with Changbin by your side. People brush past you as they hurry to meet their friends and families in the various restaurants lining the street, excitement evident in their steps.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door. Immediately, a gush of warm air welcomes you, causing you to let out a content sigh.

“Hey Changbin!” A loud voice calls out from behind you, and the both of you turn in your place. The sight in front of you gives you equal amounts of anxiety and fear, as you wonder how you were going to handle the table of one, two, three… seven boys, including the embarrassment standing beside you, who was now busy doing some sort of weird wave in favour of a greeting. 

“Changbin, please,” you plead, burying your face in your hands as you willed for someone to transport you back to your apartment so that you didn’t have to face reality and stand next to your shameless friend. 

Chuckling sheepishly, your best friend finally stops, patting your back before walking towards the table at the back of the restaurant. “Oops sorry. Let’s go meet the rest!” 

Here goes nothing.

Reaching the almost-filled table, your eyes dart from face to face, trying to see if you could remember anyone currently seated in front of you. 

“Guys! This is Y/n, my best friend,”—at this, a few complaints erupt from around the table—”Gosh, fine. My other best friend.” 

Immediately, at least three people shout their greetings your way. 

“Hi Y/n! Nice to meet you!”

“Yo~ Changbin’s told us lots about you.”

“Y/n, sit beside me!” 

Exasperated, your eyes flit around the table, trying your best to smile at all of them (which honestly turns out to look more like a pained grimace). Luckily, there was one seemingly sane person present. 

“Shut up, everyone.” A boy with blue hair and sharp eyes shushes everyone. “Hi Y/n, it’s nice to have you here. I’m Jeongin.” 

At this, the once quiet table is back to chaos as complaints are directed towards Jeongin for sneakily introducing himself first. Taking advantage of the mess, Changbin guides you towards the empty seats and finally settles the both of you down. Now all the seats were filled, except for one empty seat left beside you. 

You’re about to ask Chanbgin about the empty chair, but before you can, he claps his hands, attracting everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone will take turns introducing themselves. Seungmin, you start.”

The sandy haired boy seated on the right of Changbin waves both his hands while bouncing in his seat, reminding you of a puppy. “I’m Seungmin!”

Next is Jeongin, who just gives you a small smile. 

Beside him, you see a blonde haired boy, what is up with the hair colours, who just smiles brightly, eyes shining brightly and freckles visible. “Hello, I’m Felix. It’s great to meet you!” 

Taken aback by the deep voice, which was a total contrast to his cute appearance, you’re unable to hide the shock from your face. This triggers a bout of chuckles from the table; it was probably common for people to display similar reactions when meeting Felix. 

Before pretty boy (that’s what you decided to remember him as) could introduce himself, the black haired boy resembling a squirrel interrupts him. “I’m Jisung!” 

You recognise him as the one who shouted when you and Changbin entered the restaurant, and you’re about to acknowledge him when you’re cut off. 

“Oi Han, it was my turn to introduce myself! Who allowed you to skip the line?” 

“I do what I want,” was Jisung’s response, and pretty boy looked like he was one push away from murder. 

Just as you’re sure that you were about to witness a murder, Changbin chides the two boys and breaks up the petty argument. “Just introduce yourselves without any nonsense, please.” 

“I’m Hyunjin,” pretty boy mutters sulkily, giving Jisung a death stare. “And I can dance better than Jisung.”

“You motherf-”

“And I’m Minho,” the last person introduces himself, successfully cutting off Jisung’s profanity mid-word. “Sorry, don’t mind those two. They’re like Tom and Jerry.” 

Smiling weakly, you muster up the courage to introduce yourself to the four pairs of eyes staring at you. Hyunjin and Jisung were busy having a staredown, while Changbin was eyeing the meat sizzling on the grill. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Changbin’s friend. It’s nice to meet all of you. Thanks for having me here.” 

And just like that, everyone is back to their own conversations, with Changbin piling the perfectly done meat onto his plate. You take in a deep breath and look around the table at the happy faces. 

This isn’t so bad, you thought, a little chaotic, but otherwise entertaining. 

“They’re overwhelming huh?”

Any effort to mask your bewilderment vanishes as you catch the knowing look on Minho’s face. A guilty smile blooms on your face and you nod your head. “Just a little.”

“I get that,” he starts, but soon enough, there’s a content smile on his face that shows his love for his friends. “But at the end of the day, I know that these monkeys will be there for me no matter what, so I guess it makes it all worth it.”

Smiling softly at his words, you almost coo at the light blush dusting Minho’s face as reality catches up to him. 

“Ahem anyway. How’s living with Changbin?” He clears his throat before changing the topic, instinctively putting some meat on your plate before helping himself, earning a grateful smile from you. 

“It’s not too bad,” you start, feeling Changbin’s gaze on you after having overheard Minho’s question. “Except sometimes, he talks to himself in the mirror and it’s pretty scarring.”

“Y/n!” Changbin whines as Minho guffaws beside you, nodding his head to your answer, clearly having witnessed that side of Changbin before. “Wait till Chan comes. At least he’ll support me.” 

At the unfamiliar name, you furrow your brows and the name in the form of a question tumbles out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Chan?”

“He’s not here yet,” Minho addresses your confusion, having heard your little slip up. “He had to oversee the training for the upcoming soccer match, being the captain and all, and apparently he had a tutoring session after. He should be here soon though.”

That explains the empty chair beside you. 

“Oh, he needs to get tutored after training?” You ask, feeling bad for the unknown boy. Having to absorb information after physical activities is torture. You couldn’t even focus after 40 minutes of gym. “That’s rough.”

At your assumption, a cat-like smirk spreads across Minho’s face. “Oh no, darling. He tutors after his training.”

There’s no way you’re to be blamed for the first thought that pops into your head after discovering that said Chan was responsible and smart. You’ve seen people struggling with just one extracurricular, and begging teachers for extra credits because of poor time management. 

So, it’s really not your fault that the first words that enter your head is, that’s hot.

Just then, the bell situated above the door rings, indicating that someone was entering the restaurant. You’re not bothered by it, until Felix’s deep voice fills your ear.

“Chan!”

It’s almost comical how slowly you turn towards the sound, blush threatening to fill your cheeks at your first impression of Chan, without even meeting him. And as Giovanni Torriano has once said:

Talk of the Devil, and he's presently at your elbow.

Your eyes follow the figure of the devilishly breathtaking boy walking towards your table. He’s still dressed in what you assume was his soccer jersey, black hair tousled from the wind and practice. Shaking your head, you rid yourself of that inappropriate thought and opt to stare at the bowl of radish that looked the most interesting to you.

“Hey guys!” Chan smiles widely at the group of friends, as a few of them immediately get up from their seats to greet him with their usual bro hug. He sets his things down beside Minho, and is taking his seat when he spots you. Confusion clear in his eyes, he looks around the table, silently asking for an explanation as to what a stranger was doing at their usual table. 

You realise his staring and try to introduce yourself, but you find yourself unable to form sentences as the reality of who Chan was hits you. 

The star swimmer of your high school’s swimming team, and the top student of every single year. He was the epitome of popular. Everyone knew his name, and apparently he had never missed one day of lessons or training. On top of that, he used to regularly tutor in the library.

“Oh, this is my friend Y/n!” Changbin pipes up, slinging an arm around you. “Same high school as us, and my roommate now.”

At this, the confusion clouding Chan’s hazel eyes clears up, and he turns to face you, extending a hand. “The one who used to carry thick books everywhere and helped out in the library right? I’m Chan!” 

Being the complete opposite of your best friend, you’re sure no one has ever noticed you in the library. You blend in perfectly with the shadows and shelves, and you didn’t usually help the students out, opting to arrange the books in the storeroom—the one small thing you could do to help out the aged librarian who brought you mouth-watering brownies every Thursday. 

The thick books, in your defense, was your attempt at trying to finish the Harry Potter series whenever you had the spare time. You never had to explain yourself because you never expected anyone to notice. Especially not the most popular guy in school who had a million other friends.

But there he was, in all his glory, eyes crinkled into crescents as he waits for you to shake his hand, seemingly remembering you when nobody else did.

A small nudge to your side from Changbin breaks you out of your reverie and you grab his hand, silently noting how soft they were. “Nice to meet you.”

Smiling at you, he gently shakes your hand before turning to the other boys, immediately making jokes and laughing along. 

“What was that about?” Changbin whispers harshly, eyeing you and Chan suspiciously.

“What was what?” 

“Chan remembering you! You’ve never even met before.”

Looking at your best friend, you shrug before reaching out for another piece of meat. “Beats me.”

Changbin opens his mouth to interrogate you more, when he’s successfully cut off by Seungmin. 

“Y/n! Tell us more about yourself! I’m bored of hearing about these idiots.” 

Jeers sound from around the table as you let out a nervous chuckle, aware of how everyone’s attention was on you. “Me?” You ask, pointing to yourself for extra confirmation. 

Yea!” Seungmin replies, nodding vigorously. “What are you doing now, and how was high school for you, and just everything!” 

Noting your hesitation, Changbin is about to step in to save you, but your hand on his thigh stops him. Looking at you curiously, he realises from your expression that you’re finally about to do what he had been nagging at you to do since day one of becoming your friend. 

iv.

‘Is it possible for a stomach to burst from too much laughing?’ is what runs through your head as tears stream down your face from laughing uncontrollably at another joke Jisung was saying. 

“Wait, I remember Changbin telling me that people used to refer to you as Baby Photos when you all played at the school shows,” you ask after you had recovered from your laughing fit, curiosity piquing. “What’s that all about?” 

At the mention of the familiar name, the boys let out groans and Hyunjin starts hitting Jisung. “It’s all Jisung’s fault!” 

“Basically, he somehow got ahold of all our baby photos and submitted it to the administration on behalf of us,” Changbin explains, rolling his eyes at the memory. “So if you see our yearbook, all eight of us have our baby photos instead of the actual photo we were supposed to submit.” 

How is that even possible?!

“We still don’t know how he managed to do that.” Chan answers your unasked question, shaking his head fondly at the ridiculous memory. 

At this, Jisung pipes up. “Everything is possible when you’re charming and handsome. You lot won’t be able to relate!” 

And you finally agree that the beating Jisung gets after was well deserved. 

“Restaurant’s closing in ten!” 

The owner of the restaurant, a nice old lady who had a soft spot for the boys, calls out from the back. She had already let all of you stay past her usually closing time, and even gave you some free side dishes, together with a loving chide about how the boys don’t come and visit her anymore. 

The screech of the chairs fill the place as everyone gets up, stomach and heart full from the meal and company. You smile to yourself, glad that you let yourself be convinced to follow Changbin because you had one of the best days in your life. 

“Did you have fun today?” Your best friend asks with a smug smile, already knowing the answer.

“Shut up,” is all you can say—a clear sign that you were admitting defeat. “It was okay.”

“That wounds me,” someone speaks up from behind you, having heard your conversation with Changbin. You whip around to see Chan clutching his heart and wearing an exaggerated hurt face. “I thought we had a connection.” 

“I-you, no, that’s not-what” you splutter, horrified at the thought of Changbin’s, and now apparently your, friends thinking that you didn’t have a good time with them. There was no way you could let them think as such when they had made you feel so comfortable, and have so much fun. 

Your stuttering and horrified expression does it, and Chan bursts into laughter. “I’m so sorry, it was a joke. But your face!” 

The guilt and regret is replaced with relief and irritation, and you smack his arm out of habit, something you always did to Changbin when he was being a pain in the ass. But as soon as you do it, you’re once again filled with regret because Oh my God it’s only been two hours, you’re not supposed to just smack people.

“Stop overthinking it, idiot,” Chan cuts you off, adding in a low tier insult to make you feel a bit better about your reflexes. “We’re friends now; all of us.” 

Friend to friends. Now that’s an upgrade.

You’re about to say something, when you’re cut off by Changbin screeching unceremoniously as he glances at the time displayed on his lockscreen (it’s a picture of the two of you making ugly faces—he refused to change it).

“Shit, we’re going to miss the last bus that leaves from here!” He almost shouts, grabbing his and your things. “Adios bitchachos!”

A snicker or two echoes through the empty restaurant at Changbin’s farewell, together with requests of bringing you the next time they meet.

“Make sure Y/n comes for the next dinner! Doesn’t matter if you’re here or not!”

Jisung earns himself a string of vulgarities from Changbin for that, as he guffaws and hi-fives Hyunjin. 

You’re barely able to say your farewell to the boys with Changbin dragging you out of the restaurant, but you manage to shout out a few words while waving. “Thank you for today! See you soon!” 

The bus arrives just as you reach the bus stop, and Changbin all but collapses on one of the empty seats from the running you both did. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re foul.” You’re staring at your best friend in disgust when he starts questioning you about the dinner, nausea forgotten. 

“So…” he starts, pivoting in his seat to face you, cheek leaning against his hand which rested on the seat in front of him. “For someone who was dead set on not coming, you sure looked like you had lots of fun.” 

Rolling your eyes at his words, you turn to face Changbin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Me making more friends?”

“Of course, of course~” he drawls, smirk ever-present on his face. “And who do we have to thank for that?” 

“And you ask me why I don’t listen to you or ask you for favours.” Turning your attention back to your phone, you open up Temple Run in hopes of keeping yourself occupied for the bus ride back; but Changbin had other plans. 

Whining, he snatches your phone from your hands and slips it into his pocket. “Y/n! Tell me everything!”

“What do you want to know?!” you ask, exasperated. “You were there literally the whole time.” 

“Yes I know, but I want to know what you think of all my friends!” Changbin claps his hands in excitement, leaning forward in anticipation. “Well, our friends now.” 

You can’t help but sigh as you prepare for the long bus ride ahead—but somehow, you don’t miss the sudden warmth enveloping you as you recalled the past few hours. 

“First of all, Jisung and Hyunjin are hilarious, it’s like…”

v.

Two weeks later, and you’re knee deep in shit. Not literally, of course, but you might as well be. 

It’s the infamous hell month in your university, where every student (regardless of major) has a shit ton of assignments and tests to complete, and the library is open 24 hours for poor souls like yourself. 

It’s two in the morning when you’re working on your second essay of the day. There are crumpled balls of paper all over your desk and surrounding your bin, courtesy of your pathetic aim. 

“You’re cleaning everything up later,” Changbin speaks up from across the dining table you both were sharing to get work done, tapping away on his equipment as he works on some new beat. “I don’t expect every ball to go in, but to miss everything? That’s some serious talent.”

“Shut your mouth, Seo.” Flipping your best friend off, you finally push yourself away from the table, stretching a bit before making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of ramen in hopes of satiating the beast growling in your stomach.

As you open each shelf, you slowly come to the realisation that you were completely out of snacks and food. Even the single frozen bag of peas and empty ice cream tub stares back at you in pity as you scan the fridge. 

Taking a breath to calm yourself, you slowly turn around to face your unsuspecting, so-called, best friend. Walking towards him, you knock the table a few times to get his attention.

He notices your presence, and removes his headphones to look at you quizzically, his full attention on your blank face.

“When were you going to tell me that you had consumed every single food item we have?”

It’s almost comical how quickly the blood drains from his face, as his eyes dart all around the room, skillfully avoiding you. If it were any other situation, you would’ve definitely laughed while falling onto the floor. But this wasn’t any other situation.

This was war.

And honestly, it would have been a war that you would’ve definitely won—if not for the loud sound your stomach just produced.

Narrowing your eyes at the accused seated a few feet away from you, you walk over to the countertop with your wallet, eyes not leaving Changbin for a second.

“I will deal with you when I am back from the convenience store.”

And with the sight of Changbin gulping imprinted in your mind, you slam your apartment door behind you and make your way grumpily to the 24-hour convenience store located seven minutes away.

vi.

The electronic chime sounds throughout the store as the part-timer throws you a friendly greeting from the counter. “Welcome!” 

Reciprocating with a smile of your own, you take slow steps towards the shelf with the various assorted packets of ramen, and your hand automatically reaches for your favourite one. Just as it comes into contact with the plastic, you can feel yourself salivating and your stomach growls in appreciation. It’s a myth, you think. There’s no way food like carrots and asparagus is what gets students through school. The only saving grace you have during this period is packets of ramen and chocolate milk. Countless numbers of assignments and tests are already torturous enough; healthy, tasteless food on top of that? No, thanks. 

Clutching the ramen packet in your hands like it was the treasure of your life, you walk towards the milk section to complete your meal with your favourite carton of chocolate milk. There was something about the combination of milk that combats the spice from the ramen, and you’re about to drop onto your knees right there and then to worship the people who invented ramen and chocolate milk, when you see the last carton being taken away right in front of your eyes. 

Without any second thoughts, you rush towards the person and grab their arm, already getting ready to pull out the sob story of how you absolutely need the chocolate milk to survive. Surprised by the sudden contact, the man holding the carton whips his head towards you, eyes wide. 

There’s a fleeting sense of familiarity that passes through you when you see the hazel peeking out from above the mask that covered the rest of his face, but you’re too preoccupied to dwell on the thought. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to beg, you’re cut off by an all too familiar voice. 

“Y/n?”

Huh?

You stare at each other for a few seconds before the realisation of who you were holding, no, clinging onto dawns on you. 

“C-Chan?”

In a lively city that thrived at night, there were a thousand other 24-hour convenience stores scattered all around in every corner. It also wasn’t everyday that you decided to go to the convenience store for food, opting to go to the grocery stores instead. So, if you calculated correctly, the chance of you bumping into Chan at 2:30 a.m. at that very particular store should be close to never.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of you, chocolate milk clutched in one hand. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh I came here to water my plants.” 

Plants? 

You’re more than confused, till you hear the soft snicker that escapes his mouth. Narrowing your eyes at his antics, you decide to bite back with a “Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… Are you planning to hold onto me forever?” Chan teases you, eyes gesturing to your hand that was still clutching onto him, before looking back at you with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Because I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

With the whole bumping-into-Chan thing that happened, it had completely slipped your mind that you were still holding onto him. You snatch your hand away in horror, eyes widening as you feel the heat creep up your neck. “S-sorry.” And before you could stop yourself, you also continue to spill why you had grabbed his arm in the first place. “I was just craving for chocolate milk, and the one you took was the last carton left.” 

Looking back and forth at you and the carton, you start to feel like an absolute idiot, until he reaches out and pushes the carton into your hands. “You can have it then,” he says, and walks away. “Stay right there, let me grab some ramen and we can have supper together!” 

You stare at the carton for a few seconds, the droplets of water that formed on the outside cool against your fingers. On a normal day, you would have refused the milk vehemently, telling the other person not to worry and to have the last carton. But today wasn’t any other day.

And Chan wasn’t any other person. 

We’re friends, after all, is what echoes in your mind as you look up at the boy walking towards you, two packets of ramen in his hand and a carton of strawberry milk. Smiling at him, you finally express your gratitude for his kind sacrifice. 

“Thanks for this,” you say, waving the carton in front of him. “I don’t think I would have made it through the night without it.” 

Nodding with a smile, he tears his two packets of ramen open and pours in the hot water that was situated at the back of the store, grabbing yours from you in the process. “What brings you here at this hour? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be craving ramen and chocolate milk in the middle of the night on any other day.”

“You’re right about that,” you reply dejectedly, recalling the big pile of assignments waiting for you back at the apartment. “It’s hell month in school, and I’m drowning in work. On top of that, Changbin exhausted every single food source we have at home!”

Chan does his very best to hold back his laughter at your expression; he knew you were angry, but you looked as threatening as a kitten. And thankfully he succeeds, because he really did not want to be on the receiving end of your wrath. Although, he thinks, you really are not going to be able to do much damage.

“How dare he,” Chan agrees, finally taking a seat beside you, the steam from the ramen warming his face up. “Hey but, if he hadn’t done that we wouldn’t have bumped into each other here.” 

You nod your head in agreement, thinking about how to start a casual conversation, when you are suddenly hit with the realisation that you knew essentially nothing about Chan. You didn’t know what university he went to, what he majored in, and what he was doing in the convenience store that late at night too. 

One question at a time, you decide. 

“What are you doing out this late anyway?” you ask, slurping the noodles and breathing out in relief at the taste of the ramen against your tongue. 

“I come here often,” is what he replies, before taking a sip of his milk. “My uni’s about fifteen minutes from here, and I usually work the best at this time. Being a music production major, there aren’t very strict deadlines, but I’ve still got to get my shit done.” 

Oh. That’s all your questions answered. 

You know the trouble of trying to get questions out, especially for you, who has never really made the effort in going the extra mile in interacting with people. It’s annoying and nerve-wrecking, and probably the biggest reason why you refused making new friends. The whole process was just painful. So, when Chan answers your unasked questions, you feel the hypothetical weight lifting off your shoulder, and you open your mouth to express your gratitude. At least, that’s what you had planned to do. 

“Are you a mind reader?” you blurt out, before immediately clamping your mouth shut and facepalming. “Ugh, sorry. I have a really bad habit of blurting out whatever comes to my mind.” You groan at your inconvenient habit, and Chan pats the top of your hand in hopes of comforting you.

“I just meant to say that I was thinking of asking you those questions and you answered them even before I asked.” Chan looks at you with a smile, intrigued by your personality. You clearly didn’t have any other friends other than Changbin—but you never looked as if you were upset about it. It was also clear that you were content with not interacting with people, but when you did, you were never rude about it and you really did try your best. Never in a million years would he have thought that the student scurrying around the library with tons of books would turn out to be someone like you. 

“At least that means you’re an honest person!” Chan says, beaming at you. “C’mon, learn to look at the brighter side of things.” 

Shrugging your shoulders with a tired smile on your face, you turn back to your ramen, which has now gone soggy due to your little chit-chat with the boy beside you. 

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs between the two of you, until Chan speaks up again. “What’s your major? I realised I never asked.” 

At the mention of school, you pull an automatic stank face before replying. “English Lit with a minor in Philosophy. The worst decision of my life.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I never knew there’d be this much essay writing!” you cry out, throwing your head against the table. The rest of your words come out muffled, but somehow Chan manages to catch it. “I mean, I knew there was going to be lots of essays. But not this much.” 

“In the major’s defense, that’s kind of a dumb move on your part, Y/n.”

“Yes, I know. Please don’t remind me of my idiocy.” You finally sit up, before sadly chewing on your noodles. “At least I have ramen and chocolate milk to keep me going.” 

And as the night went on, both of you continued the conversation back and forth, you learning more about him and him about you. You talk about your assignments, how annoying some of your professors were, and how living with Changbin was. All the times you had to chase him to clean up after himself, or all the times he stayed up with you until ungodly hours just because you had procrastinated too much and was rushing an assignment in the last hour. You also learnt more about Chan; how he was studying music production because that was his dream since he was young, and how he actually roomed with Jisung, who was equally as messy as Changbin. The only difference was that Chan couldn’t be bothered about the mess. 

“Changbin, Jisung, and I actually used to make tracks and post them on Soundcloud,” Chan says, smiling as he recalls the three high schoolers cooped up in his room with the bare minimum equipment that wiped out half their savings. “We even had rapper names.” 

“Ooooo~” you tease, nudging his shoulder as his ears start to turn a bright red. “What was yours?” 

“What’s in the past should stay in the past, Y/n. Let bygones be bygones. No point talking about it now.”

“Awww, c’mon!” You plead, fidgeting in your seat. “Was it something embarrassing like Cheminem, or something?” 

“I can’t help but feel more relaxed when your standards are that low,” Chan says, with some form of relief in his voice. “Uh, mine was CB97.” 

“Don’t tell me…” you mutter, eyes wide as the laughter threatens to escape your lips. “Did you really just use your initials and your birth year? Talk about bare minimum!” 

“Hey! It’s better than Meminen, or Cheminem, or whatever you said earlier.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you decide to probe further. “What were Jisung’s and Changbin’s?” 

Chan stares at you with wide eyes, your mischievous eyes giving away your evil plans. “No. Changbin will kill me.”

“Don’t be a party pooper! I’ll treat you to ramen next time if you tell me.” You try tempting Chan with food, with no hopes that it would work. But somehow, you see his resolve crumbling, and realise that you just needed one final push. 

“I’ll get you chocolate milk and two packets of ramen.” 

At that point, Chan regrets telling you his habit of eating two packets of ramen with chocolate milk almost every night when he stays up. “You shouldn’t have given me the milk then!” is what you said while chiding him, and he just claimed that “you looked like you needed it more than me” while saying that he really wasn’t picky about the flavour of milk. 

So when you tempt him with his cravings, he has no choice but to give in.

Twenty minutes later, you walk into your shared apartment, a mysterious smile playing on your lips as you drop the keys into the little holder by the door. It was made by yours truly during a random pottery workshop you signed up for. The shape was slightly off, and the colour wasn’t bright or vibrant—but it worked and that’s what mattered. 

At the sound of the keys clinking in the holder, Changbin’s head shoots up to gauge your mood from your expression. Surely you would be at least a little less angry after your little run to the convenience store, he thought. 

But instead of seeing a blank expression, or even an angry one, he sees the smile on your face and his heart drops. Why were you smiling? The fact that you were smiling made him feel a hundred times worse, and he had already started saying his prayers.

“So, Changbin…” you start, leaning against one of the chairs at the dining table. You weren’t even angry about the empty shelves anymore, but you just could not pass on the opportunity of teasing your best friend. “Or should I say, SpearB?”

And you’re more than content with the way his face morphs into that of horror, as he grips the edges of the table. “How did you know?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper; one would think that the whole world had found out about his darkest secret from the way he was reacting. 

Shrugging playfully, you go back to your seat and sort out the papers scattered around the table, grabbing your laptop to start working on your assignment again with a full and happy stomach. “Who knows~”

“Y/n, tell me,” he starts to whine, making his way to you on his roller chair. “No one knows other than the boys-”

And the realisation of who the culprit was hits him.

“It was Chan, right?” he asks, already reaching for his phone to scold the older boy. “You must have met him when you went to the store—he’s always getting ramen there.” Typing furiously on his phone, he pauses to look up and whine again. “I can’t believe you two gossiped about me! And it was me who made you both become friends. The disrespect!” 

Finally the laughter you had been holding in breaks out and floods the living room, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I can’t believe,” you start, trying to catch your breath as you continue laughing. “SpearB! What do you do? Impale people with your sharp flow and rhyme?”

“Just shut up, please,” Changbin pleads, plugging his ears with his fingers. “La la la, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.” He rolls back to his side of the table and grabs the headphones, shoving it over his head to drown out your laughter. 

Your laugh fest is cut off by your phone vibrating, signalling that you had a new text message. Grabbing it, you tap your phone a few times to open up the messages page. 

chan: can’t believe you outed me to changbin chan: traitor y/n: drama queen y/n: i said nth, he figured it out on his own chan: ఠ_ಠ

Giggling at the emoticon Chan used, you unconsciously lean back in your seat as you search your gallery for an emoticon to reply with, assignments forgotten. 

“Who’re you texting?” Changbin asks, having heard you giggle at your phone. He’s eyeing you suspiciously, and you knew it was better to answer him, because a curious Changbin is a dangerous Changbin, and he’ll probably stomp over and snatch your phone to see who you were texting anyway. “It’s Chan.”

“When did you two exchange numbers?!”

“Earlier, when we met at the convenience store.” 

It was right before the both of you parted ways; when Chan had proposed something that was pretty much impossible to turn down. 

“I had fun today,” he said, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung the plastic bag containing some chocolates to add to his secret sweet stash. “You said you’re having hell month, right? Hit me up whenever you need an emergency ramen run.” And with that, he pushed his phone into your hands, signalling for you to do the same. 

Smiling to yourself, you keyed in your number into the phone clutched in your hand, saving yourself as “Y/n”, and before you could regret your decision, you quickly added a smiley after your name and tossed the phone back to Chan. “Here you go.” 

The cool metal is being pressed into your hands, and before you know it, you’ve said your farewell to Chan and were on your way back home. 

“Look at you socialising out of your own will,” Changbin states proudly, wiping an imaginary tear as he gives you a fatherly (or what he thinks is fatherly) smile. “Albeit, at the expense of my shame, but if it means my little Y/n making more friends then why not!” 

“Please stop, you’re an embarrassment to me, yourself, and literally everyone around us,” you deadpan, clearing your side of the table up. It was time to call it a night, because God knows you’re not going to be able to do anymore work. “Besides, it’s really not that big of a deal. I doubt we’ll continue talking after tonight. It’s probably a one-off thing.”

“Hmmm I wouldn’t be too sure,” Changbin muses. “I feel like there’s something that’ll come out of this.”

vii. 

Seo Changbin isn’t a lot of things. 

He isn’t tidy, opting to throw his clothes all around his room instead of folding it; he isn’t patient, always screaming at you to “Hurry your ass!” when he had been waiting barely three minutes; and last but not least, he definitely isn’t punctual. “Changbin is my name, and being late is my game” is something you’ve heard way too often from him that it was a wonder you hadn’t murdered him yet.

Changbin isn’t a lot of things—but what he somehow is, is intuitive when it comes to you.

So when you find yourself back at the convenience store at 12:30 a.m., ramen and chocolate milk in front of you as you laugh over some stupid story Chan was saying, you can’t help but curse at how right your best friend was. 

You were reaching the end of your hell month, which also indicated it being four weeks since you and Chan had developed the routine of pigging out at the convenience store at terrible hours. 

“... and he just fell off the tree!” Chan concludes his story of how Hyunjin fell off a tree in high school, words coming out breathless due to how much the both of you were laughing. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

“I can’t believe I never talked to you guys more then,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It would’ve been hilarious.”

“Someone was too busy with Voldemort,” Chan teases, pushing his nose down flat in what you could only describe as a Voldemort impression. Laughing, you swat his hand away while rolling your eyes at the boy you’ve grown so fond of in a span of four weeks. “Why’d you never talk to us?” 

Thinking back to high school, you ask yourself. Why didn’t you ever bother talking to them?

“I guess it’s just cause I already had Changbin,” you start, pausing to think back to the past few years. “As much as I complain about him, he’s really one of the greatest best friends anyone could ask for.”

It was true; Changbin was there for you during high school like no one else had been, and for that you were eternally grateful for him.

“So you were scared to take any other chances since you already got the best?” 

People always asked you why you didn’t make more friends in high school. Hell, even your mother kept asking, when other parents struggled to keep their children at home just because they were spending too much time out with friends. But the answer to that question was something you never thought about, and you can’t stop the feeling of shock spreading through your body at what the boy in front of you had just so casually uttered. 

You were scared.

“I-I…” you stutter, eyes wide as you stare at the boy in front of you. Chan can’t help the worry that seeps into his face at his words, and he’s starting to wonder if he said anything wrong. “I’ve never ever thought about it. But, oh my God, that makes so much sense.” 

After years of waving everyone who asked you why you never made any other friends away just because you yourself didn’t have the answer to the question, you’re hit with a huge realisation of just why you didn’t want to find more friends. And it wasn’t even you who figured it out. 

This boy sitting leisurely in front of you, skin pale and soft, with messy black hair framing his face that he never bothered brushing away. This boy, who was as kind as he was hardworking, always willing to help out anyone, even with his own responsibilities. This boy who had been readily there for you at the devil hours for almost every day in the past four weeks, always checking up on you to make sure that you were surviving.

Never in a million years would you have expected someone to figure out something that was locked away so deep inside of your heart, and for it to be Chan, out of everyone. The thought makes your heart race a little, but you decide to blame it on the conversation the both of you were having. It was definitely not because of the boy seated beside you.

“Shocking, huh,” Chan starts, laughing slightly as the worry he had felt earlier replaced with something he could only describe as fondness. “It’s a pity though.” 

You look at him questioningly, and what he says next makes you realise a few things that maybe you were better off not realising. 

“We would’ve been much happier in high school with you there. I would’ve been much happier.” 

As much as you regretted not befriending the other seven boys in high school, you were starting to regret bumping into Chan that very first night even more. If you hadn’t bumped into him, you would’ve never spent so much time with him, never realised how great of a person he was, and lastly, you would’ve never started falling for Bang Chan.

viii.

It’s like déjà vu.

With your exams and assignments completed, you find yourself watching the latest season of Haikyuu when Changbin enters the room, waltzing towards your reclined figure. 

“Y/n~” Changbin starts, poking your shoulder to get your attention. “Whatever your annoying ass needs now, it’s a no,” you say without even turning to look at the boy beside you.

“Oh? Even if it was an invitation to dinner with the boys later tonight?” 

And when your head whips to the side to look at your best friend, you’re so tempted to just wipe that smirk clean off his face, because the bitch knew you would have said yes.

“I fucking hate you,” is what you can mutter, before switching the television and throwing the remote to the side, choosing to ignore Changbin as you walk towards your room to pick an outfit. But you’re forced to stop in your tracks when Changbin casually utters the next few words.

“Chan’s especially excited to see you.”

You’re not sure what Changbin means by that, but there’s no denying the increase in your heart rate at the mention of the dimpled boy. 

“What?” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as you could, hoping that your best friend wouldn’t pick up the slight quiver in your voice. But, of course, he wasn’t your best friend for nothing. 

“I said, your little boyfriend’s excited to see you.” Changbin smirks at your expression, stretching his legs out to rest it on the coffee table in front of your sofa. “And it looks like you’re just as excited.” 

Red travels up your neck and spreads across your face, as you sputter at your best friend’s preposterous words. “W-what are you- I- Huh-”

Realising that your little breakdown wasn’t helping your case at all, you take a deep breath to calm yourself, before speaking to the insolent brat in front of you. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, and the first instinct you have is to play dumb. “O-of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

“I will pretend like I did not hear that pathetic attempt of you trying to act dumb,” Changbin states robotically, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Y/n. It’s obvious. So stop pretending and just fess up. It’ll be easier for the both of us.” 

You had two choices now: Either fess up and prepare yourself for at least a thousand years of teasing, or just completely deny it till your deathbed. 

Clearly, the second option was much more appealing. 

“No, Changbin,” you snap with as much conviction as you could. “I do not have a crush on Chan. He’s just a really good friend.”

The knowing look on his face wavers, and you know that you’re seconds away from success. It’s not that you did not trust your best friend with the information of you having a crush on one of his friends. You just did not want to say it out loud—saying it out loud would mean that you were confirming it, and there will be no going back. And that scared you. 

You were scared of liking someone who was way too perfect, and who probably would never like you back. 

So the best solution was to keep your little crush hidden away in the depths of your heart, and slowly get over it as soon as you could. It was as easy as it could get.

ix.

Apparently, you realise, it wasn’t at all easy to get over a simple crush. 

The smell of meat fills your nostrils as the eight boys chatter loudly over the sound of the sizzling of the food. You’re back at the same restaurant, with the same boys, except it wasn’t exactly the same as the last time. 

This time, you had a raging crush on the boy who insisted on sitting beside you, leg brushing against yours every few seconds as he piles the food on your plate instead of his. 

It definitely didn’t help that every time your hands brushed while reaching out for the side dishes around the table, you pulled your hand back as if you had just been burned, ears immediately heating up. 

“Did you know Chan told Y/n about 3RACHA?” Changbin whines to Jisung, making him stop his actions mid-way, meat hanging from the chopsticks just a few inches away from his mouth. “All I heard the past few weeks was ‘SpearB, help me’, ‘SpearB, go there’. It was torture.”

The table goes silent at the new information Changbin had revealed, and all you can do is smile sheepishly as your friends stare at the both of you. 

“These two have been meeting almost everyday the past few weeks to get ramen at weird timings, and I’m pretty sure Y/n has lots of quality dirt on us now,” Changbin says pointedly, completely ignoring the way your eyes widened because why would he just say that?

It already wasn’t easy keeping Changbin in check with his little fantasies every time you went out to meet Chan, and now it was going to be worse because you just knew that the six other boys were going to question you from their expressions. 

You turn to look at Chan, expecting to see the same ‘busted’ expression on his face, but all you see is a guilty smile, before he opens his mouth to speak. “In my defense, I was bribed.” 

“Yes but, you never told us your 3RACHA names even after we kept begging you for weeks,” Hyunjin speaks up, eyes wide in disbelief. “We had to bribe you with a new game for your console, but you just told Y/n after two packets of ramen and chocolate milk?” 

Your heart rate picks up speed just a fraction after hearing Hyunjin’s words, and you can’t help but feel a little special that Chan was comfortable enough to tell you things he refused to tell others. There’s a small smile playing at your lips as you look at the boy beside you, who was now rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he tried his best to defend himself from the accusations that were now pouring out from all his friends. 

Unbeknownst to you, your own best friend was watching the both of you since the night started, a glint in his eye as he catches the way you threw small glances at his friend, blushing every time your hands brushed or when Chan purposely picked out the meat that was grilled best to put on your plate. 

He also didn’t miss the soft smile playing at Chan’s lips every time you laughed at another stupid joke Jisung cracked, head thrown back slightly as you clutched your stomach, or the way his eyes widened every time you leaned a little too close to him to reach for a side dish. 

Fools, is what he thinks when he eyes his two best friends. Fools in love.

The night goes on, and it’s Changbin who proposes a game of who can finish a bottle of soju the fastest to make things more exciting. You already know how it was going to end when you see the soju bottles crowding the table, all screaming the obvious outcome of the night.

“Rule’s simple. We’ll have two people against each other, and the one that loses has to pay their opponent’s share for tonight’s dinner.” 

You notice Changbin avoiding your eyes as he speaks and distributes the bottle, which could be attributed to the very scary death glare you were throwing right at him. 

Here’s the thing—your alcohol tolerance was shit. And Changbin knew that, making you wonder what he had planned up his sleeve.

“Right, here’s the lineup,” he announces, making it seem as if the lot of you were in some world championship of sorts. “Hyunjin and Jisung”—there’s a loud ‘Die, bitch!’ that resounds from Jisung as they both get ready to win against each other—“Seungmin and Felix, Minho and Jeongin, and Chan and Y/n!” 

You were going to kill that idiot. 

Changbin starts off the game with a recap of the rules, and makes sure that everyone has their own bottle of alcohol. Disaster is the only word flashing in your mind, and you’re on the verge of ditching your friends to return to the comfort of your room. 

“Jisung and Hyunjin first!” Changbin instructs, to which the two boys grab their bottles and have a stare-down with each other. 

“I’m gonna win so hard, your ancestors are gonna feel it.”

“Let’s see you try, pretty boy.” 

On Changbin’s cue, the two boys start gulping down the alcohol, and you visibly cringe at the ghost feeling of the taste on your tongue. 

“Are you okay?” Chan whispers from beside you, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a stupid game. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” 

There’s a grateful smile on your face as you shake your head, letting the boy know you were okay. “I’m fine. Just worried because my alcohol tolerance isn’t that good, and I don’t want to inconvenience all of you.”

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Chan mutters softly, staring right into your eyes. The smile slowly drops from your face as your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words and the way he was looking at you. You so badly wanted to look away, not being used to such eye contact, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes it almost impossible for you to tear your gaze away from his twinkling eyes. 

The sound of a bottle being slammed onto the table snaps you out of your little moment with Chan, and you immediately turn away to look at what was happening at the table, taking deep, cleansing breaths to calm yourself. 

On the other side of the table, you realise that Hyunjin was the one who finished his bottle first, now having the time of his life teasing Jisung, who had about one quarter of the bottle left. 

All the boys, except Chan and Felix, were laughing their asses off—Felix was the only one comforting Jisung, while Chan was staring at the table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“There, there. It’s okay, Sung,” Felix coos, patting Jisung’s hair, as the latter sulks at his loss. 

The next two rounds proceed quickly, with Seungmin and Jeongin emerging as the winners. Everyone stares shell shocked, as Jeongin gulps down the liquid with vigour and speed, and slams his bottle down onto the table with a grin.

“There’s no way! I can’t believe Minho lost to a baby!”

“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean he’s a baby, Changbin.” Seungmin deadpans, swiftly moving the empty bottles to the side of the table. “And how come you’re not participating?”

“Someone needs to bring Y/n back,” Changbin shrugs, passing the bottles to Chan and you with a guilty smile in return to your scowl. “And I’d rather stay sober when taking care of drunk children.”

You turn to pass the bottle to Chan, quickly avoiding his gaze when he looks at you. You’re not confident in your abilities to keep the blush down if he was going to look at you the way he did before. 

“Okay,” Changbin cues, making sure both of you were ready with the bottle caps off. “Ready, set… Go!”

You didn’t mind paying for Chan’s share for dinner, you really didn’t. But if there was something about you that was both your downfall and pride, it was your competitiveness. You were competitive to the point where you tended to disregard the consequences of your actions. 

So, your brain doesn’t register the painful consequences of your actions as you gulp down the bottle of alcohol like your life depended on it. You weren’t the best drinker out there, but you were going to try your very damn best because it was a competition. 

With no expectation of winning, you swallow the last drop of soju and slam the bottle back onto the table, when you realise that everyone was staring at the two of you with their mouths open—specifically at Chan.

Following their gaze, your eyes widen in surprise as you see the boy holding an almost half-full bottle of soju, clearly indicating that you were the winner of your little game. 

It’s like a dam breaks, and suddenly everyone’s shouting at the unexpected outcome. Hyunjin and  Jisung scream while looking back and forth the bottle and Chan, while Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin sit with wide eyes and open mouths, unable to process that Chan just lost to you.

On the other hand, Changbin watches Chan with a smirk, which slowly drops when he realises that Minho, who was sitting beside him, was staring at him with raised eyebrows, clearly asking the question ‘What the fuck just happened?’.

Just as he’s about to pull Changbin to the side to question him, you shoot up from your seat, stumbling around almost immediately because of the sudden bout of dizziness that hit you. You fall back onto your seat as fast you had gotten up, and Chan wraps an arm around you almost instinctively, making sure you didn’t fall off your seat. 

The table is back to having their own conversations a few minutes later, as if they weren't just screaming over your victory, with Hyunjin and Jisung having a rock-paper-scissors tournament between themselves, proposed by Jisung who was still sore about losing to Hyunjin.

Alcohol clouds your mind as your head lols back and forth, with soft giggles spilling from your lips. In your drunken state, you register the arm wrapped around you, and you turn your head to look for the owner of said arm. 

Chan looks at you with the fondest smile as he tries to hold back his own chuckles at how cute your giggles were, at the same time being extremely conscious of the way you fit perfectly around his arms. He thanks his lucky stars that you were drunk as he held you, assuring him that there was no way you were going to hear how fast his heart was beating. 

“Oh?” you drawl, squinting at the boy beside you. “Who might you be?” 

And at that very moment, Chan hopes with all his heart that there is no one else who will get to witness what he was seeing right in front of him. 

There are strands of hair covering your face, cheeks red from the alcohol (and from the close proximity to him, but he doesn’t need to know that) and eyes drooping from the oncoming sleepiness. Yet, to him, you were still the most beautiful in that moment. 

“I’m Chan,” he replies sweetly, hesitating for a moment before adding more to the sentence. “Your friend.”

An exaggerated gasp escapes you as your eyes widen comically. Words tumble from your mouth, with hiccups disrupting your sentences every now and then. “Chan? Bang Chan? From high school? The really, um-" hiccup "-cute boy who tutored in the library? The super popular dude? You’re my-" hiccup "friend?”

There’s a light pink flush dusting his cheeks at your words, but he laughs nonetheless while nodding, finger reaching out to tap your nose. “Yes, I am.” 

Scrunching your nose at the contact, you continue giggling when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the little exchange you and Chan were having. Chan turns to face his friends, and immediately starts coughing when he realises that they had been watching the whole scene with amused expressions. He awkwardly retracts his arm from around your waist, only for you to get up and stumble over to where Changbin was sitting, arms reaching out towards him while making grabby hands. “Changbinnnn~”

You plop yourself onto his lap, arms encircling his neck as you pull his ear closer to your mouth. Used to your drunk antics, he concedes, knowing that he’ll end up with more damage if he didn’t listen to you when you were drunk. 

When he is close enough, you cup your hands around your mouth and whisper into his ears. At least, you thought you were whispering. 

“You have really cute friends, Changbin.”

The whole table erupts into cheers at your words, and you immediately cover your mouth with a horrified expression. “Did everyone hear that?”

“You weren’t very quiet, darling,” Changbin snorts, pulling you up with him as he stands. “How are all of you getting back?” 

“We’re all crashing at Felix’s place,” Seungmin speaks up, tapping away on his phone. “The uber’s about to arrive… right now.” 

Grabbing their things, everyone except Minho, Chan, Changbin, and you, make their way out of the restaurant, shouting out hurried farewells and promises of ‘I’ll wire the money to you when I get back!’ to Changbin. 

“Okay, Minho and I will go settle the bill,” Changbin says, readjusting his grip on you. “Chan, can you look after Y/n for a bit?”

“Sure,” Chan replies, looping your arm around his neck as his snakes around your waist. “We’ll be out at the front.”

The moment Chan leaves their sight with you by his side, Minho turns to bombard Changbin with all the questions that had been bothering him the whole night.

“What was that?” Minho asks in bewilderment, pointing to the door that Chan and you had exited from. “How on earth did Chan lose that game when he’s the best drinker amongst all of us?!” 

“It’s called being in love,” Changbin scoffs, shaking his head at his two friends. “Disgusting.” 

The distressed look on Minho’s face dissolves, and is replaced by what one could describe as enlightenment. “No fucking way. I was wondering why he kept smiling at them like an idiot. That explains so much! Have they confessed?”

“You think?” Changbin rolls his eyes, knowing that there was no way either of you had the courage to confess first. “The only way either of them will confess is if they are drunk.” 

“But Y/n is dru-” Minho starts in confusion, when he stops mid-sentence, realising what Changbin had just done. “You evil genius.”

“What can I say,” Changbin states proudly, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “I wonder what’s going on outside,” he mutters under his breath, staring at the door. 

On the other side of the door, Chan finally succeeds in getting you to sit down with him on a curb, his jacket folded neatly under your bottom to make sure that you were not sitting on the hard cement. “I’m tired,” you whine, head dropping onto the warm shoulder beside you. 

Chan tenses up at the sudden contact, staring at the top of your head, when you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. At the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder, he relaxes, and positions himself such that you didn’t have to strain your neck. 

There’s a comfortable silence between the both of you, until you decide to break it by asking Chan a very obvious question.

“We’re close friends right?” 

You lift your head from Chan’s shoulder, almost whining out loud at the loss of comfort, but you decide that asking him that question was more important. Clearly, drunk you had very different priorities. 

Chan just nods and replies with a soft “Of course”, wondering why you were suddenly asking that question. “Why?”

“Since we’re close friends, can I tell you a secret?” The last few words are spoken in a hushed whisper, as you reach out and grasp Chan’s soft and warm hands. His larger hands clasps yours, as he chuckles at your question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/n. You’re drunk, and you might regret telling me when you sober up.”

“No!” You almost shout, alarming Chan who looks around to make sure no one heard your exclamation. You continue in a softer tone, to Chan’s relief. “You’re my close friend! So I won’t regret it.” 

And the wide smile you show Chan almost makes him want to kiss you right there and then. Almost. 

“Alright then,” Chan agrees, rubbing circles into the skin on your hand. “Go ahead, tell me your secret.”

Giggling, you use your free hand to beckon him closer, your face moving closer to his at the same time. Just as his ear is close enough to you, you whisper out the words that make his heart stop. 

“I think I like you.” 

He freezes in place, eyes staring at the black tar road ahead of him as his heart hammers against his ribcage because of your nonchalant words. He gulps before slowly turning to face you, the person he had grown to like more than he could ever imagine coming into his view. He takes quick, shallow breaths as he continues to stare at you, unsure of what to say. 

Luckily (or unluckily, for Chan), you decide to continue talking, baring your heart and soul to him. 

“It’s like...” you start, trailing off after your first two words, before finding the right words to continue. “It’s like I was always happy in life, but you made me realise that it was possible for me to be happier when you are there with me.”

And the smile you give Chan, accompanied with the words you had just uttered, makes him want to protect you from the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he loves you, but what he’s sure about is that all he wants to do is hug you and never let go, to be there for you every minute, every second. And he thinks that’s enough. 

That’s enough reason to hold onto you and never let go.

Opening his mouth, Chan is about to reply to your drunk confession, when the sound of soft snores fill his ears. 

Leaning against the light pole that was situated very conveniently behind you, you had fallen asleep in the split second Chan had taken to make his move. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and Chan can’t help but breath out a laugh at your timing. 

There’s always tomorrow, he thinks.

x.

There’s white noise playing in your ear as you stare up at your ceiling.

Changbin is seated at the edge of your bed saying something important, you assume. You aren’t listening; your brain cells have decided to go on a strike and replay the scene from yesterday on loop. 

I think I like you.

You want to scream. You want to scream and murder the boy sitting beside you so bad. After all, it was his fault that you ingested that goddamn devil liquid that made you spill more than your guts. 

It was a wonder that you were able to find a friend as precious as Chan, and there you lay in despair, all thoughts of facing Chan again slowly slipping away from your fingertips. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to see him after the stunt you pulled yesterday. 

“Y/n, are you listening?!”

“No.” 

A hand wraps around your arm and you feel yourself being pulled up, coming face-to-face with your distressed best friend. “Stop being stubborn. Calm down and listen to what I have to say.”

And that’s when you snap.

“Stubborn!?” you shriek, clutching the ends of your hair. “I just confessed to your friend, Seo Changbin. I was drunk, and I confessed my very large and real crush to the person I am crushing on. I have ruined any chance at friendship with him, so don’t tell me to stop being stubborn and to calm down!”

Taking a deep breath, Changbin pulls you towards him, both his hands resting against your cheeks. “Listen here. Stop being a wuss. Yes, you confessed when you were drunk. Yes, it’s embarrassing as fuck. But get over it. You know Chan. Is he the kind of asshole who drops friendship over small things like rejection?” 

There’s a pout playing at your lips as you shake your head, partly due to the way Changbin was squishing your cheeks, and the other half because you knew he was right. 

“But I still don’t want to face him yet,” you whine, pushing his hands away from your face and diving back into your covers. “I just want to wallow in self pity, and hopefully waste away on this bed so that I’ll never have to face anyone ever again.”

Changbin knows that there was no convincing you otherwise, so he settles for sighing and getting up from your bed. 

“Don’t stay in bed for too long. I’ll order us food for later.”

Muttering something under your breath, you roll over and bury your face into your pillow, sighing as you think about the boy whose smile gave you more warmth than the sun could ever provide.

You’re in the midst of imagining how different today would’ve been if you hadn’t opened your dumb mouth when your phone rings and cuts off your thoughts. Reaching out for it, your mouth runs dry when you see the name displayed on your screen.

“Chan :)”

Your finger presses the decline button and your phone clatters against your bedside table as you decide that you are not ready to talk to Chan yet. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready to talk to him, let alone face him. 

A minute after declining the call, there’s a series of knocks on your door, and you shout out a “Go away!”, not wanting to hear anything related to Chan and how you need to stop being a coward. But as the knocking continues, getting louder as time passes, you start getting annoying and realise you have no choice but to open the door.

“What the fuck do you want, Chang-”

You cut yourself off as you take in the person standing in front of you with wide eyes, looking as handsome as ever even with the furious look painted on his face. 

The silence is thick with tension, and you can’t help but avert your eyes, choosing to look at anything but the boy in front of you. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Chan asks, voice quiet and flat. “I’ve been calling and texting you all morning.” 

“Um, I-” you start, not knowing how to answer his question. You imagined your day going various ways, but this definitely wasn’t in your plans. “Did Changbin call you?”

“I asked,” he starts, walking towards you. You take a few steps a back, and continue walking backwards until your hands come into contact with your dresser. You were trapped. “Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?”

You blink rapidly, not used to this closed-off version of Chan. The usual warmth and softness in his eyes were missing, and instead all you saw was disappointment and anger. You open your mouth to speak, but it wasn’t easy to get the words out. 

“Was it funny messing with me?” Chan continues, not breaking eye contact with you once. “To just get my hopes up and disappear like it all meant nothing?” 

“W-what?” 

“How was it so easy for you to just start ignoring me?” 

“No I-”

“Is that all I mean to you?” And instead of the disappointment and anger, you see pure, unfiltered hurt, and that was enough for your walls to come crashing down. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the boy in front of you, and it’s like a dam breaks. 

“I’m sorry.” Sobs wreck your body as you wipe the tears that don’t seem to stop. “I-I’m so fucking sorry, Chan. I was scared.”

“Scared because you just said that in the spur of moment and you don’t actually mean it?”

“No, I was scared because I like you too fucking much!”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you, and you continue staring at the floor, vision blur with stubborn tears that refuse to fall. And that’s when you hear it.

A chuckle. 

It’s soft, and you would’ve missed it if not for the pin drop silence in the room. 

You slowly lift your head up to confirm if you actually heard what you heard, or if you were hallucinating, when you see it. 

Chan was smiling. 

“Can’t believe it worked.” 

What on earth did that mean?

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, sniffing softly. 

“This was Changbin’s idea. For the record, I was against it.” Chan’s hands come up to rest on your cheeks, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks as he smiles softly at you. “I mean, of course I was hurt and worried. But I just wanted to come over and talk it over like a normal person.”

His smile widens as one hand continues cupping your face, while the other reaches to tuck the one stray strand of hair behind your ear. “He said you’ll never admit things unless I, uh, scared you a little.

You stare at Chan as the gears work in your head, putting the pieces of information. The moment the last piece clicks in place, you stare in shock at the boy standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, equal parts of relief and anger taking over your mind. “I fucking hate you!”

And with that you storm off towards your door, Chan chasing after you with apologies spilling from his mouth. But the both of you knew that you weren’t actually upset, which can be seen by the giggles accompanying every apology.

Just as you’re about to leave your room, you’re pulled back into warm arms, and you fight every urge to melt right into his embrace. His arms wrap around your frame tightly, but gently. You feel his strong heartbeat against your back, and it’s enough to make you shiver, goosebumps erupting all over your skin. 

“Do you hate me?” Chan asks, chin resting on your shoulder as you feel his breath tickle your neck. 

“Yes.”

“Really?” Chan asks in amusement, lips against your ears and voice just above a whisper. “That’s a pity then. Because I like you too fucking much too.” 

He whispers the last part of the sentence, making your knees go weak and your heartbeat pick up its pace as it usually does whenever the boy who stole your heart was involved. 

You turn around in his arms to face him, sighing contentedly at how things ended up turning out.  “I’m really sorry about the ghosting.”

“It’s okay, love,” Chan assures you, the pet name inducing butterflies in your stomach. “I would’ve been embarrassed too, if I had confessed to you when I was drunk.”

“I would’ve loved to see that.” You whine at the unfortunate circumstance of you confessing instead of Chan. “I probably looked like an idiot while confessing.”

“Since I’m your boyfriend, can I tell you a secret?” Chan teases, repeating what you said the night before with a little twist. Smacking his arm lightly for the jab, you nod with a laugh, ignoring the way your face heats up when he refers to himself as your boyfriend.  

“I really wanted to kiss you when you were confessing.” There’s mirth in Chan’s eyes as he gazes at you the same way he did back at the restaurant. The only difference was that you knew he liked you back. And you had never been happier. 

“Go for it.”

And that’s all the confirmation that Chan needs to lean down and press his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss, as your hands rest on his chest, appreciating the strong beat his heart was playing. 

You part a few seconds later, eyes still closed as a smile plays on both your lips, before you’re pulled for another kiss, this one more forceful than the one before. His lips press against yours harder, and his arms pull you closer—as close as you could be. You respond with equal fervor, pouring every emotion you have into the kiss, when you’re interrupted by a loud cough. 

“I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to bleach my eyes every time I see the two of you.”

Oh. 

It completely slipped your mind that Changbin was just a few steps away from your room, and you want to crawl under your bed and befriend the monster there when you see the haughty smile on your best friend’s face. 

“I think a thanks is in order.”

Removing yourself from Chan’s arms, you walk over to Changbin, who smiles wider when he realises you are walking towards him. Opening his arms to welcome you in for a hug, he can’t help but shriek when you start punching him everywhere possible.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!”

“That’s what you get for coming up with stupid ideas to get me to talk!” you snap at your best friend with words that carry no real bite. “Were you that desperate?”

“Clearly!” Changbin replies, exasperated. “It was getting depressing. He wouldn’t stop calling me because he was worried, and you were being a stubborn bitch!” 

At his words, there’s a tinge of guilt that pinches at you when you realise the trouble you had put your best friend through. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you say with a pout, burying your face into Changbin’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

“Yes yes, you’re welcome,” Changbin says with a soft smile. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but seeing his best friend who meant the world to him end up with someone who just as much deserved nothing but the best made him eternally grateful. “Now go smooch your boyfriend. We don’t want him becoming too jealous of the attention you’re giving me.”

“Oh, shut up,” is what Changbin gets in return, as Chan intertwines his hand with yours. Just as Changbin walks out of sight back to his room, Chan turns to you with the biggest smile.

“Now then, shall we go on a date to celebrate our first day?”

“Absolutely.”

And as you and Chan sit on the beach that evening, surrounded by sand and accompanied by the sound of the waves and the soft breeze with a orange hue enveloping you, you think:

Life had never been sweeter.