#Pocket Door Locks Online

[humanpurposes]

The Way You Taste

The lines between friendship and 'more' are becoming difficult to define with you and Aemond. You don't know what's holding you back, but lately you can't shake the feeling that someone is watching you.

modern!vampire!Aemond x reader

Main Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, blood play, creepy stuff (tis the season), mentions of murder and violence

Words: 3.8k

A/n: Happy Halloween/Halloween Eve 😼🖤 (depending on your timezone)

You can’t shake this feeling lately, like someone is watching you.

The season doesn’t help. The clocks went back a few days ago and the new cycle of daylight has thrown you off your axis. The mornings are bright but the night comes quicker. You watched the sun fade from the window in your office and by 4pm it was dark. Insanity.

Sure, you can wear your big coat and a scarf to fight off the cold but your limbs still feel shaky and unsure. And it still feels like there are eyes on you everywhere you go; work; the coffee shop round the corner; the supermarket; the gym; your own unassuming flat on the quiet side of Queen’s Park.

Dany’s obsessed with the news stories, always sending you videos and articles with the latest updates and theories. It began about a month ago when a student was found behind some bins in a service yard off Silk Street with a knife in her neck. She was only eighteen, from a small town in Dorne, eager to get a degree and start her life. She had been out with her flatmates at a well known pub in a busy part of town, went outside for a smoke and that was it. According to the police she might have had a chance if someone had found her. Instead she was left to bleed out for hours.

There have been three deaths in total, the student, a 30-something-year-old regular at the club Seven Heavens, and a bartender at Falling Star. Dany thinks the culprit must be some insane conservative with a twisted sense of morals and decency, determined to punish those who actually live their lives– or so she’s seen online.

You don’t know who the culprit is, you don’t really want to think about it. You can’t stop noticing every face you pass on the street, on the bus, on your way into the office, and you wonder, could they be a killer?

Your hands tremble and fumble with the keys to your front door. The key is funny, you have to sort of push it and pull it as you twist it, but the door opens and you scurry inside. The keys are tossed into their usual dish, your coat and scarf thrown on their hooks, shoes off, bag set down on the floor carefully so you don’t smash your laptop. 

You should lock the door. You will lock the door but your head is pulsing and the cold weather has left your throat dry. You need tea, or water. Maybe you could treat yourself to both. 

There are exactly three rooms in your flat. Bedroom, bathroom and the rest of it. The sight of your sofa covered in papers and notebooks fills you with dread but you move on to the kitchen and clear a space on the counter, setting out a glass and a mug. Teabag in the mug. Water in the glass. Water in the kettle. Fuck, the dishes are piling up. 

Your finger is an inch away from the switch on the kettle when your phone rings. The noise is faint, coming from the hallway because it’s in your coat pocket. So you go back around the counter, past the sofa and into the hallway. The ringtone sounds sharper the closer you get and once you’ve got the phone in your hand the name Aemond Targaryen appears on the screen.

Your heart lurches. You let the phone ring for another second before you answer in an airy voice, “hi.”

There’s a soft hum on the other side. “Hello, you. Did you get home alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good day?”

You have to stop yourself from making a sound of exasperation. There’s only so much you can enjoy about a job when you give everything and get seemingly nothing back. “Fine. Long. Emails.”

Aemond hums. Maybe it’s meant to be sympathy but you have this same problem with Dany, the disappointment when they don’t hear what they want to. 

Dany had been the one to introduce the two of you around the end of August. Aemond is a cousin of her’s and at the time had just moved to King’s Landing from Oldtown. She didn’t know him particularly well, but said he got on with her brother, Viserys, which didn’t paint the best image in your mind. But then you met him and right away you knew he was unlike any other man you’d ever met. He was striking; tall, perfect posture, long silver hair, perfectly fitted suit. And his voice, gentle yet chilling. Hypnotic. 

He asked for your number the second time you met and you had given it to him on the basis that an exchange of numbers wasn’t a commitment. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe he just wanted to be friendly. Sometime over the last two months, ‘friendly’ became text conversations into the early morning hours, became phone calls, became coffees and dinner.

“Is everything okay, Aemond?”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You’ve wandered back into the living room. All the clutter makes you anxious. “Need to clean up a bit, get myself some food.”

“Can I come over?”

“Oh, um, I’d rather you didn’t, my place is a mess.”

“Come over to mine, then. I’ll make you dinner.”

You catch your lip between your teeth. 

You and Aemond had gone for dinner last Saturday night. He told you to wear something nice, picked you up in a cab and took you to a steak restaurant where you knew you could barely afford a side dish, let alone a main. He told you to order whatever you wanted, picked expensive wines to go with the food, insisted you get a dessert, and covered the whole bill.

He saw you home. It would have been a shame to end the night before 9pm, so you invited him in. You showed Aemond around, not that your place is spectacular, but he liked what you did with the bedroom, the plants and the postcards on the wall. In the living room you picked out a bottle of cheap white wine from the fridge. Harmless fun, surely.

All self restraint was gone. You were half delirious and cosying up to him on the sofa, telling him about your job, your shitty boss, your obnoxious coworkers. If you had your way you’d start your own blog or magazine, or disappear to a coastal town and write a novel, but that wouldn’t pay off your student loans or pay for a place to live. 

You told him about Dany’s new friends. She had her own startup with her family’s money behind her, and it was doing well but she didn’t have time for anything else. She was unreachable during the week, and every weekend she had started hanging out with her employees. Your chats are filled with photos she's sent you of pints and drunk selfies in clubs. And she never invites you.

But Aemond was there, the only person in weeks who had made any sort of effort to see you. You held his face in your hands and told him how beautiful his lips were.

Then he kissed you.

That took you by surprise. He moved you into his lap, trailed his hands along your legs to the hem of your dress, and all the while your lips moved together so perfectly. You wanted it to happen, more than you had allowed yourself to admit, but you hadn’t expected it. You pulled away and so did he. Something didn’t feel right. Something was holding you back.

He’s Dany’s cousin, you told yourself. 

“It’s alright,” you say, moving your bag to the sofa, paper and pens shifting around it. “Shit– I’ve got some work to do.”

“On a Friday night?”

It wouldn’t be so unbelievable, you staying in on a Friday, but Aemond has a way of picking up on the smallest of details. Maybe there’s a give in your voice. Maybe you’re breathing too heavily– now you’re thinking about it and you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

“I’m fine, honestly, don’t worry about me.”

“I do, that’s the problem.”

You can hardly think over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. And gods, you feel so guilty. Why do you feel so guilty? “It’s just that now’s not a good time.”

“Now as in, right now?”

Now as in this moment. Today. This year. Until you feel that you’re ready, only, you don’t know when you’ll be ready.

“Aemond, you know I think you’re wonderful, I mean, I hope you know that. And I… appreciated dinner last weekend. I just…”

There’s a flow of breath through the speaker, a slow exhale that sets your nerves alight. Aemond has a way of tapping his fingers when he’s impatient or when he’s thinking. You picture him drumming his fingers against his thigh.

“I thought I was being rather direct in what I wanted. I hate to think I’ve imposed,” he says. 

It’s hard not to overthink this kind of thing, after a lifetime of drunk flirting, harmless fun, no strings attached, “not looking for a relationship” and men keeping their options open. Aemond is intelligent and generous. He has an eye for detail, a way of reading you, and a self assuredness that means he can breeze through life effortlessly.

He’s perfect, and you’re not. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Aemond is silent. No breathing, no sign of life. It’s like that for a few seconds, but it feels like minutes. And finally he says. “I understand perfectly.” 

“I really am sorry,” you say, but the white noise of the call is dead. 

You finally make yourself that cup of tea. Dany calls and you don’t want to answer. But you do. She’s on her way to the pub. 

“It’s Jon’s birthday and we’re going to Falling Star!”

You don’t want to hate her for being around other people, but why can’t she do it without rubbing it in your face? “Enjoy. And don’t die,” you say.

“I’m too pretty to be murdered,” she says. A slew of true crime documentaries and faces in newspapers would say otherwise, but by then she’s already hung up.

The rest of your evening is a peaceful one. You don’t pay much attention to the dating show you put on the TV, more interested in an algorithm of videos, cats making funny noises, a man shoving his wife’s face into their wedding cake, a tribute to the three victims of the Silk Street murders– no new news there, new economic policies, fantasy book recommendations…

You check your messages. Dany’s just sent you a photo of her pint.

You scroll a little further down and hover your thumb over your chat with Aemond, but you don’t open it.

Nothing in particular wakes you. Still half asleep, you’re aware of your body, the exposed parts of skin against the fabric of your bedsheets, the rise and fall of your chest. Instinct tells you it’s a few hours after midnight. There are no strange noises, no sources of light, just the cold air beyond the duvet, pulled up to your chin.

Then it starts to slip away. 

Your hands struggle to catch up with your mind. You think about grabbing the edge and tugging against whatever is trying to pull it off you, but you can’t. The fabric slips through your limp fingers, dragging over your body until there’s no weight on top of you. Your limbs are frozen in place, curled over on one side, dressed in an old t-shirt, panties and nothing else. Your skin crawls at a silent breeze, but you can feel it again, eyes on you.

Then there are fingers, stroking along your bare legs, closing around your ankles. 

Your eyes blink open, adjusting to the darkness and you can see that the bedroom door is wide open. Without looking, you feel an awareness about the room, a presence looming at the foot of the bed. It pulls on your legs, dragging you further down the bed, positioning you flat on your back.

Even in the dead of night, the gleam of silver hair is undeniable.

“Aemond?”

His gaze meets yours. He smiles and starts to pull at the buttons on his shirt– trust Aemond to show up in a dream wearing a shirt and slacks.

The haze of sleep lulls your mind and sharpens your senses. You run your hands up your thighs, admiring every inch of his skin as it’s revealed to you.

Shirt discarded, his hands come to his belt and linger on the buckle. He hums and it infuriates you how even the slightest of sounds makes you desperate for him. But the belt stays where it is, so do the slacks. 

His palms fall to the mattress and he crawls towards you like an animal. You’ve rarely seen that side of him in real life, maybe that night when you kissed, the way he groaned against your mouth and grazed his teeth over your lips…

His hands are on either side of your head. The colour of his eyes and the line of his scar are difficult to make out in the dark. His body leans against yours, slowly pressing his weight on top of you, making a home for his hips between your legs. You don’t just let him do it, you wrap your legs around him, pulling him in closer as your hips start to rock. 

He leans down, placing a firm, slow kiss against your lips. You try to follow him as he pulls away, but he moves down to kiss your neck, then the base of your throat.

“You can’t lie to me,” he mutters against your skin, “I know what you need.”

He lifts your t-shirt enough to expose your breasts, taking one into his hand and squeezing, just to the precipice of pain. You’re already moaning when he takes the other nipple into his mouth, bruising and licking and sucking. 

With every moment that passes you feel the control slipping, his and yours. Perfect, sweet, refined Aemond, gripping his fingertips into your flesh like claws, restless and grinding himself against you. You thread your hands through his hair, surfaces of bone, chin and forehead, fall against each other. 

Aemond slips further still. He trails his lips along your sternum and your stomach, positioning his face between your legs. There’s no more pretence. He parts your thighs with his palms, pulling your underwear down your legs before he runs a single finger through your folds. You feel how effortless it is, how wet you are for him.

Until his finger is replaced by his tongue in slow, agonising licks. His eyes are on you, but the rest of him is obscured by your own body. You rock against him to chase the feeling, keeping a hand on his head to keep him where you need him. 

It’s like a silent conversation. He takes your queues, responds to your moans and the way your jaw slacks when he finds the right spot.

You watch his shoulder shift and feel the pressure of his finger at your entrance. He doesn’t push it in, not yet.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

He hums against your cunt and you feel it in the rest of your body, an echo through your bones and your blood.

He wants you to beg.

“Aemond, please,”

He slips inside you and you’re weightless. 

The noises you make aren’t conscious. You feel the air flowing through your lungs, the sound in your throat, panting and moaning as he nudges against the flesh inside you. 

It rises and rises until the pleasure tears through you. Aemond holds you in place with a palm splayed on your stomach, unrelenting, working you through the high.

“Aemond,” you whimper, “I can’t take it,”

He pulls away from you, and still gasping for air he comes to his knees on the bed, hovering over you. “You taste too fucking good,” he says.

You’re still writhing in the afterglow when he reaches for something in his back pocket. The shape of it is obscured in the darkness but you can see how he’s holding it, like he’s holding up a pen. It doesn’t even occur to you that it could be anything dangerous. 

“Are you going to let me have another taste?”

You should say yes, that’s how these things go, play along and see where you end up.

He leans over you again, on one hand. You watch the way his hair falls, the way he draws his tongue over his lips. 

It happens too quickly for you to make any kind of protest. Aemond puts the object into your face and there’s a stinging sensation on your lower lip. By the time he has pulled away you feel a liquid pearling at the cut he’s made, wet and warm. 

“What… what the fuck?” you utter.

Aemond surges back into you, a man starved, kissing your bloodied lips. His tongue delves into your mouth and you can taste it, the sweetness of your own arousal, the metallic tang of your own blood.

“Too good,” Aemond growls under his breath, “too fucking good,”

You meet him with hunger of your own and feel his mouth break into a smile.

“See? I knew you wanted this,” he says as his hand curls around your neck, “desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Your body is screaming for another release. You rake your nails down his back, press your chest up and into him.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Aemond.”

“So why do you keep pushing me away?”

You pause. There’s hardly any space between you, the tips of your noses are the slightest move from touching. You see the stains on Aemond’s lips, the darkness in his expression.

“I’m not ready,” you say.

Aemond huffs to himself, you’re unsure if it's amusement or disbelief. He sits back on his haunches, grabbing you by your wrists to pull you up. He doesn’t let go. His hands are so much bigger than yours, curling around your forearms. “I could give you everything, do you know that?”

You feel yourself frown.

“Why aren’t you ready? What’s stopping you?”

There are so many imperfections in your life. People like Aemond and Dany, they make life look easy because it is easy for them. If they work it’s something to fill the time. 

Your eyes are starting to sting. “I– I have things I need to focus on. I can’t get caught up in this, I can’t distract myself.”

Aemond’s mouth curls into a small smile, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. “I could take the distractions away. I could make you mine.” He brings one of your wrists to his lips, placing a delicate skin against it, leaving a smear of blood in its wake. "Why deny yourself the pleasure I could give you?"

It’s an enchanting idea, a life outside of a job that makes you miserable, untethered to a friend you can feel is drifting away…

You feel your head nodding.

“Good girl,” Aemond mutters.

You expect him to kiss you again, or lay you down on the bed and fuck you. Instead he reaches for something beside him. The knife.

You flinch away and get as far as the headboard. Aemond still has one hand on your wrist and pulls you back in. 

He takes the blade to his chest and makes a shallow cut down his skin. Your insides turn and tighten at the sight, unable to decide if you’re terrified or fascinated. 

You know what he wants you to do. That’s always the way with dreams, somehow you just know what you need to, even if what’s happening in front of you doesn’t make sense. 

You lean forwards, bracing yourself against his firm torso, tongue out, licking along the cut. His blood pools and burns on your tongue. It’s bitter and sweet, and you relish it.

Aemond moans, cradling your head in his hand.

He pulls on your hair to tilt your chin up. His face is full of admiration and you preen at the praise.

He moves your head down, to the bulge in his slacks. With his other hand he undoes his belt and you pull it away eagerly. He seems pleased at that and makes quick work of freeing his cock.

You delight at the sight of him, watching his hand work himself to hardness, precum glistening at the tip, and take him into your willing mouth. His sighs of pleasure spurn you on, your own arousal rising in your belly. 

Aemond’s grip on your hair tightens as he starts to thrust into your mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, “my perfect girl,”

Until he decides he’s had enough. You hardly comprehend it as he draws you away from his cock, turns you around and positions you on your stomach.

You gasp as he enters you, the sweet sting of stretching around his cock. It’s worth it when he reaches so deep inside of you. You can hear him gritting his teeth as he moans, like he’s torn between desire and restraint. 

And you wish you could watch him while he fucks you, moving in and out of you, his hands digging into the flesh of your ass, the blood dripping down his chest– you can still taste it.

Aemond’s hair tickles against your skin as he leans down, keeping his brutal pace. “Mine,” he misses against your ear, “you’re fucking mine.”

You cry out as your second orgasm washes over you, soft and simmering as he fucks you through it.

You press your fingertips into the mattress, basking in the heat of your skin, the dampness of sweat, the taste of blood on your lips…

When you open your eyes again daylight seeps through a gap in the curtains. You’re still on your front, still in your t-shirt. You move your hand between your legs and find a damp patch on your panties. 

Your legs and your arms are aching. You feel feverish, hot and cold, restless in your own skin. It’s that time of year, you suppose, flu season.

You can’t stop thinking about that dream. It almost makes you laugh, the absurdity of it, Aemond sneaking into your room, and the blood– the blood. 

It would make sense to be disgusted by it, but you’re not. You feel a sort of pressure ghosting against your lips and your tongue. You imagine the sight of him, his toned torso, offering his very lifeforce to you, and tasting yours.

“Mine,” he said. 

You drag yourself out of the bed. Everything hurts. Even setting out a clean t-shirt and sweatpants exhausts you. Worst of all is the hunger starting to appear in your stomach, the kind that twists and churns.

Maybe a shower will put your head right. It’s amazing how many problems can be solved by warm water. You move in slow, sluggish steps to the bathroom. With the water running, you turn to the sink and reach for your toothbrush, catching sight of your reflection.

Something about your face feels different, and you’re not sure it’s a bad thing. You can’t pinpoint it, but you don’t think you’ve ever felt so beautiful.

There is one thing though, a scab on your lower lip, right where Aemond had cut you in the dream.

“I could take the distractions away. I could make you mine.”

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[sunrisesfromthewest]

Playing Hard To Get Pt 3

Summary: After that night at the precinct the sexual tension between you and Armando increased ten times more causing him to come up with a clever way to keep you from running away.

Warnings: Smut +18 | Rated R Language and Actions| Handcuffs | Office Sex | Gagged | Fingering | Use of Restrains | Clit and tit loving | Fucked Against table and Wall | Hair Pulling | Barely Proofread

Previous Part: Pt2

Time seems to fly by after that night at the precinct and since then your focus has been on all the new cases.

Hense why you haven't noticed Armandos predatory eyes watching your every move throughout the week.

At the moment your attention was focus on finding a very important file but with a frustrated sigh you push away from your desk and turn your attention to the ceiling.

“Still ain’t have no luck finding that Leoni file.”

Swiveling your chair towards the hearty voice, you see Marcus gazing at your computer screen with mild interest.

"Yeah, that file is about as old as you and Mike." you say giving him a teasing smile. Marcus stares down at you for a moment before releasing a very sarcastic laugh.

"I see your ass got jokes."

Shaking your head in amusement at his annoyed expression, you turn your attention to Mikes baritone voice and approaching figure.

"What you two bobble heads over here talking about?"

"Something that your elderly light skin ass could help me with." you sassed, moving forward to double check your information on your note pad.

"Y'all young folks disrespectful as hell."

Hearing the light snickering from the squad had you biting at your bottom lip to contain your laughter.

Pausing to take a sip of his big gulp Mike sends Marcus a look before smacking his lips loudly with a mischievous grin.

"And that's too bad cuz I was just about tell you where that file was at."

Groaning you glance up at the older man, already knowing he wasn't going to give the information to you without trying to cut a deal.

"What do you want?" you ask, while gazing at him with hesitant eyes.

"Lunch is on you."

Frowning your eyes shift back to his and your blank computer screen before releasing an agitated sigh.

"Fine but y'all not finna be blowing up my phone tryna add extra food."

Watching the two men give each other a devious smirk, they walk away from your desk.

"Hey! Where's the file!"

"In the old records room!" Mike answered, entering the break room with Marcus hot on his tail.

Standing up from your desk, you shifted your red dress back down your browns thighs and make your way to the records room.

"Go ahead and write down what y'all want, I'll grab lunch after I get this file." you announced, sending Armando a pointed look since he always tries to give you his order last minute.

"Prefiero comerte el coño en lugar , princesa. (I'd rather eat your pussy instead princess)"

Seeing the shocked look on Kellys face had you raising your brows, but you don't stop to question his comment.

Smirking Armando briefly shifts his attention to Kelly who looks at him with a wrinkled nose before moving his brown eyes back to your retreating curvy form.

Walking down the small flight of stairs, you spot the room a couple of steps ahead of you.

"They really need to transfer this stuff to the online records." you muttered, sticking your pad in your bra and twisting the handle of the door.

Standing there a few seconds in disbelief you twist the knob again only to grumble when the door doesn't even budge.

Glaring at the keyhole, you look around to see if anyone was watching before leaning forward while slipping a bobby pin from your dress pocket.

To immersed with trying to pick the lock, you failed to notice a familiar Latino man walking your way.

"I swear if they planned this to get more foo-"

Pausing at the sound of a low whistle, you flip your hair back to see Armando leaning against the opposite wall with a dimpled smile.

"A stripper and a little criminal.... what else you been hiding from me detective?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out." you replied, turning back to the lock and smiling after hearing a small click.

Turning to him you open the door and send him a smug look before entering the room. Pushing off the wall amused, Armando entered the room behind you, "I'll keep that in mind."

Not replying you pull the small pad from your bra and flip through it to double check the id number for the case file.

Heels clicking against the floor your eyes move around the room in search of the correct file cabinet.

"Is there something you need to get out of here too?" you questioned, missing the sound of the door closing with a click.

Finding the cabinet, you open it and began to search through the packed drawer.

"The last time we were together.... alone, I remember you left those behind princess." he commented, spotting the way your hand stops at the sight of your thong stuck between the files.

Alarmed you peer at him with wide eyes as he draws closer to you with a dark expression.

"Now ever since you left me high and dry, I've been using these as a way to get off."

Shocked you just stand their sucking in air like a dying fish, mind trying to come up with a coherent sentence.

"Hmm.......Cats got your tongue, mami?" he stated, snatching up the material from the abandoned file cabinet.

Snapping out of your stupor you maintain eye contact while backing away from his approaching form.

"Glad to see that you enjoyed yourself." you joked but stop when you run into a hard surface.

Laughing at your comment, Armando reaches you with a wolfish grin while watching you slide onto the 'desk' to create distance between him and you.

"All you been doing is running that smart mouth of yours and running away," pausing he drags a hand down the small opening of your dress top," And if I'm being honest mami...I'm done chasing you."

Shivering from his light touch, you give him a grin of your own, "Then why do you keep doing it?"

The next words that come out his mouth completely throws you off.

"How's your wrist?" he asked, shifting his gaze down to your manicured hands.

Blinking up at him with a quizzical expression, and a quick glance down at your healed wrist.

You look back up at his now lustful eyes, confused, "It's fine but why do you as-"

Before you could finish you feel cold metal hugging your skin and the ghostly touch of Armandos stealthily hands. As quick as you could react you began to frantically tug at the metal restrains and take in that what you thought was a 'desk' is actually an old slick interrogation table.

"Armando the fuck you got going on!" you fumed, pulling at the restraints more.

Moving closer he spreads your legs causing you to freeze as the cool air hits your damp covered center.

"Armand-do what are you doing!"

"Claiming what's mine and teaching you a lesson." Armando whispered, running his hands over your center. Jumping at his touch you try to move back but he just pulls you closer by the chain of the cuffs.

"The more you run the longer I'm keeping you in these cuffs." he growls, voice becoming low and accented. Gasping loudly at the feeling of him pressing down firmer against your clit, you breathe out a response and trap his hand between your thighs.

"We can't......someone migh-"

Once again you were cut off but this time, he stuffed your mouth with your thong.

"Problem solved. Now open your legs."

Shocked that he just gagged you with the soft material you don't catch his words but the feeling of him quickly sliding your panties down with his free hand does.

"You practically dripping baby, and we haven't even got to the fun part." he mutters sliding the material past your heels and into your mouth to ensure you want make a sound.

Mouth completely stuffed, you stare at him aroused and with dilating pupils as you start to drool from the way your mouth is stretched open.

"You're so pretty when you allow me to give you what you need, Y/N."

Dark eyes running down your face he moves a hand forward to wipe at your mouth before trailing the same hand towards your throbbing center.

Feeling the pressure on your clit had you closing your eyes from the sensation, making him stare at you with a smug expression.

"All this time you been fighting against what your body wants," pressing down harder he moves his thumb in a circular motion, "I know you been craving my touch princess."

Hips shifting forward your eyes remained closed as you released moans muffled into the now damn material.

"Tossing that thong at me and then running away was the third straw." Leaning forward, he began to trail hot kisses down your exposed neck while speaking to you.

Shivering from his words, you feel yourself become even wetter as he continues his motions on your clit while slipping a few fingers inside you.

"Now look at you.... pleasuring yourself with my hand."

Throwing your head back, your body shivers as he pumps his fingers faster inside of you which makes you tug at the restrains with pleasure.

"You're taking this so good Y/N.....I thought you would at least put up a fight." Armando taunts, placing a hand on your lower back so that you wouldn't run from his fast pace.

Groaning you slightly open your eyes to peer at him but moan more when you see his lustful gaze watching your every expression.

Clenching around his fingers, you blink drowsily up at him as you feel a familiar pit form in your stomach. Wiping away the drool from your mouth he gives you a fake pout, "I know baby.... your close."

Hiking your shaking legs around his waist to anchor yourself, you pull him towards you with pleading eyes.

Moistening his lips with a swipe of his tongue, he slows down his movements and leans down to your ear.

"Is it too much, baby......you want me to stop." he whispers, slipping his hand out and watching you attempt to protest as he stops you from reaching your high.

Whining at the withdrawal of his hands, you glance away as frustrated tears run down your face.

“You been playing with me for months…. did you really think I was going to let you get off that easy.” Placing his wet fingers into his mouth, Armando grabs your chin and maintains his gaze with you while releasing a satisfied hum.

“I didn’t know you could be so…..sweet.”

Rubbing your thighs together, go to speak but remember that you’re gagged. Seeing this he shifts his attention to your mouth, “Got something to say, mami.”

Nodding your head, you tilt your head up so he could remove the material out your mouth.

“You look so pretty tho.” He commented, running his thumb over your wet bottom lip. Giving him your best ‘Hurry the fuck up’ look, you roll your eyes as he slowly pulls the material from your mouth.

Pushing the last of the thong out with your tongue, you take in a few deep breaths before you speak.

“If you’re not going to let me cum,then what’s the point of me being here?” you gasped out and attempted to wipe away the drool from your lower face.

“We’ll that depends on how you answer this question.” he replied eyes scanning your flushed body with desire and need.

Although you were intrigued you were feeling some type of way about being teased of an orgasm and handcuffed.

"Since I didn't get to cum, I think it's fair that I don't answer your questions." you snarked, shifting back on the table at the constant pulsing feeling between your crossed legs.

Crossing his arms he trails his eyes back up to yours and pick up on the shift of your attitude towards him," This how you want to play."

Not answering you flip your slightly disheveled hair over your shoulder and turn your attention to the silver cuffs dangling from your wrist. Unfolding his arms, he grabs your waist and flips you over to press your front against the cold hard surface.

"Arman-!"

"Tss. Tss. Don't try to talk now princess, I gave you a chance." he interrupted, scrunching your dress over your ass he gives it a hard smack while kicking your heeled feet apart.

Whining loudly from the smack, you try to move away but he just press his warm large hand down on your lower back and grinds his hard on against your dripping cunt.

Moaning your body moves with his naturally; logic and common sense going right out the door as your mind becomes clouded fully with want.

Noticing this Armando tilts his head back to get a good look at your wet cunt grinding against his covered member with eagerness.

"There you go baby, just like that." he groans, left hand moving to caress and spank your ass as you quicken your pace.

Panting loudly your drag your restrained hands onto the edge of the table in search of some type of leverage as the pleasure becomes intense.

Moving his grip back to your thick waist he pulls your bottom half slightly away from the table causing your heeled feet to dangle a few inches off the ground.

"I'm close Mando-please!" you rasped out as the rough material of his jeans and the sudden touch of his index finger pinching your clit sends flutters to your stomach.

Pulling your hair back he stares down at your half-lidded eyes with a coy smile, "Please what mami."

Running his hands between your wet folds he grinds against you harder at the sight of your slightly parted lips and begging tone.

"Please let me cum! I need it-I need you!"

Biting his lips he pressed his front against your back and tugs your hair to the side to suck at your neck while picking up the speed of his hand.

"You need me Y/N-Where do you need me baby." he breathed, tilting your blissed out face to look at him as he anxiously waits for your answer.

" Arman-I need yo!" cutting yourself off you moan out his name loud as your orgasm sneaks up on you and spreads throughout your body.

Whispering small words of encouragement in your ear he keeps his hands between your thighs while trailing kisses down your back.

Letting out small whimpers your body starts to come down from it's high but the moment you feel hot breath hit your pussy you freeze.

"You don't mind if I get a taste..."

Before you could protest his hot mouth glides across your soaked lips causing you to shudder and regrip your hands on the table as he drags his tongue against you.

Mouth dropping open you released a breathless moan as your senses becomes overwhelmed.

Pulling away from you with a pop Armando runs his rough hands along the backside of your thighs before standing back up to his full height with urgency.

"You got one more in you sweetheart." he asked, accent slipping as he unbuckles the front of his pants with the speed of a man on a mission.

Cuffs scrapping against the table as you push yourself up to stand on shaky legs you turn to face him with an unfocused gaze.

"You still want me." you heaved, leaning against the table for support while watching him stalk towards you with a broad grin.

"I been wanting you baby from the moment I saw you."

Wrapping his hands around your thighs he hoists you up and carries you to the open space by the bared window.

Laughing you place your cuffed wrist behind his head while dragging your nails down the nape of his neck. Leaning his firm body against your soft one he shifts your legs higher on his waist so that he can pull himself out.

"You ready baby."

Shivering at the sight of his long girthy dick, you lick your lips anxiously while nodding your head eagerly.

Smirking he rubs the tip between your fold in a teasing motion as he blinks up at you with desire, "You sure cuz once I have you Y/N... your mine."

"Then let this be my answer." you purred, pressing your lips against his moist ones in a sloppy kiss while racking your manicure nails through his short thick hair.

Groaning into the kiss Armando pulls you closer as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes just the tip in.

Breaking away from the kiss, you tilt your head back as he begins to thrust into you while letting out a low groan.

"Gosh Armando." you moaned out as the feeling of him stretching you open sends a delicious tingle up your spine.

Clenching his jaw, he releases a small breath while maintaining a tight grip on your hips,"Fuck Y/N... not gonna last long with the way your pussy keeps gripping me."

Locking your legs around his waist tighter you shiver and grip his shoulders hard as he finds a fast hard rhythm. Grabbing your chin, he brings your full lips back to his in a searing kiss while groaning at the loud squelching noise coming from between your legs.

Breaking the kiss with a small wet pop, Armando starts to nip and suck on your bouncing breast with intense desire.

Whining loudly, you shift in his arms as you feel another orgasm creep up, but that seems to only encourage Armando to pound into you harder.

Unlatching his lips from your breast he mutters I knows into your neck as he starts to chase yours and his orgasm. Letting out a mixture of breathless moans and groans at the sensation of his nails digging into your ass as he begins to split you open.

And just like that, your peak sneaks up on you again which triggers Armando already frantic pound to go into overdrive.

Whining out your name, he cums deep inside of you while keeping a possessive grip on your fucked out form against his as y'all come down from an intense orgasm.

Warmth admitting from each other's skin seems to bring comfort and slightly relief while your bodies finally start to cool down from y'all's risqué activities.

"I guess I'll go out with you." you joked in a light tone.

Shaking his head, he looks up at you with that cute, dimpled grin, "The dick that good huh?"

"Don't act like you weren't swimming in this tsunami." you stated, smacking his chest playful as he carries you back over to the table while letting out a deep chuckle.

Whining as he slips out of you, you watched from the table as he opens one of the cabinet drawers and pull out a small bag of supplies.

With a gaping jaw you watch him set the bag beside you and pull out a few things to clean each other up with including the keys to the cuffs.

"Ohhh you sly dog......you set this whole thing up!"

"This was the only way I could get your stubborn ass to finally admit your feelings……and to traumatize Kelly.”

Pausing you turn to him confused,“What’d you say to Kelly?”

Meanwhile...............

The whole squad was to busy eating and working to notice the absence of two members who has been gone for a few hours…..everyone but Kelly.

Dorn watches Kelly picks at her food with disgust before sliding her plate away while releasing a frustrated groan.

“You good baby?”

With furrowed brows she shakes her head while massaging her temples with a sigh.

Catching the rest of the members attention they listen to Dorn ask her what’s wrong but the reply they received would’ve made anyone passing by think they were in the wrong department…..or police station.

“The thought of Armando eating Y/n out want leave my head!”

Authors Note🎙️:

Sorry it took so long I’ve literally been busy getting ready for the semester and guess what today my first day back so it’ll be awhile until I post.

😜But I had to make sure I leave y’all good and satisfied until I get back into a balanced schedule.(I think I out did myself 🤞)

Also,I do have that Mike Lowrey x reader typed up but once I get free time again I’ll post it.

Hope You guys Enjoyed and Stay Blessed💓💓

Taglist: @poppetbaby02 @livirosa@dyttomori @cibresworld @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @theclownmimi @blackgirlmagicforever @3amvaiya @thesizzler @bitchyglittersuit @leahnicole1219 @babywinter @housewifewithnohusband22 @undevidedattentionsblog @delusionalbutterfly @ky44 @thatwassofetch @pandorafrost @yeahnohoneybye @disc0fairy

[mixingpumpkins]

Man, we really lost when we decided that the best way to feel safe or to try to prevent bad things from happening is to assume malicious intent from everyone and police every little fucking thing about existing.

Want to go shopping? You'll be treated like a thief. Security cameras, anti-theft sensors by the door, and a staff that may or may not follow you around isn't enough; we're also putting security tags on every single piece of $4 underwear in the bargain bin and keeping everything on the shelves under lock and key, so you can't even look at it without staff assistance/supervision. No, cameras and staff monitoring checkouts isn't enough. We also need someone else searching your bags and verifying your receipts at the door. (And god help you if a security sensor somewhere didn't get deactivated properly and the door alarm goes off.)

Are you a student taking an exam? We've already decided you're a cheater. Of course you are — all students cheat. So you get assigned, spaced out seats in the testing room, surrounded by cameras. Show us your photo ID at the door. Nothing goes in the room with you but your pencil. Leave your phone, wallet, water, and anything else in a locker outside. All your jewelry, too. No long sleeves. Let us check your hair/headbands/pockets/ears/religious garb in case you're smuggling something in. Need to leave for the restroom? No, you don't, or your exam is done. Emergency? You can choose between literally shitting yourself or failing your course and risking expulsion for cheating.

Online exam? Prepare to be subject to literal spyware. Your eyes better not waver a fraction out of the "acceptable" gaze window. Don't press any button you're not supposed to or mis-click anything; that's proof you're trying to cheat. Don't even think about shifting in your seat, even if your test is two hours long.

Do you work? It'd better be at top speed and no errors at all times. We have security cameras trained on you every moment, sensitive enough to read the text of any paper you handle. We're tracking exactly what you do and how fast. Did your metrics slip for even a second? Unacceptable, even if your rate is otherwise within our "acceptable" range, because we know you can work faster. Yawn? How dare you — we don't pay you to be tired. You're not working hard enough. You must not have enough to do — your requirements have now tripled and we've cut your pay as an incentive not to waste time again. Make a mistake? You must have done it on purpose. You must be trying to steal or sabotage. We'll be evaluating to see how quickly we can fire you and if we can press charges or sue you for damages.

Need to travel via plane? It doesn't matter if you're paying through the nose to do so; you're clearly a criminal who's only not committing a crime at this very moment because you're outnumbered by security officers. We need to question you excessively if you don't look exactly like your ID picture taken three years ago. Take off half your clothes and walk through our scanners that will basically show you without them. (Then prepare to be wanded, and possibly groped — maybe even by more than one person — and if we really feel like it, taken to another room to be stripped and questioned further.) You can't take some necessities with you. Your belongings will be x-rayed and pawed through and commented upon, and they're maybe even a reason to detain and question you further. Why does your purse have suspicious organic matter in it? No, that can't possibly be a bag of fruit snacks you bought from the kiosk 20 feet away; you're trying to hide explosives.

Need medication? You're lying. You're faking. You're just trying to get drugs. You're an addict. You're a dealer. No, you don't have a condition that really requires medication; if you just slept more/lost weight/did yoga/were a better person, you wouldn't have to feel like you need to use drugs. We don't care if your doctor says you need this medication — your insurance company says you don't. Oh, you can afford it anyway? At that price? You must be reselling. We need to investigate and put notes on your file.

Communicating via message? God forbid you take even a fraction of a second too long to respond. You must be trying to hide something. You're slacking off your work. You must be cheating on your partner. You must have a problem with the sender and are leaving them out of something. You left them on read; you're being a bitch. You edited a response or took too long to type something — you're actually being mean and manipulative by not just saying what was on your mind first. Company policy is we get to see everything on your devices. You shouldn't have a problem sharing your personal location/passwords/etc. with your partner if you're not up to no good.

Want to simply exist where a stranger might see you? That's suspicious. What are you doing out here? We don't recognize you. You must be stealing. You must be casing the houses or stores in this neighborhood. You must be looking for someone to rob/assault/harass/etc. You must be part of that rabble claiming they're protesting to cover up the nuisances and criminals they are. Why did you hold a door for me — are you trying to get behind me? Why have I seen you more than once while I'm shopping here — are you following me? Why did you smile at me — do you have a problem? Why are you walking down the street? Why are you sitting on a bench? Why are you visiting the library? Why are you eating alone at the cafe? You don't look like you belong here. You look like a creep. You need the police to come handle you. (If they use force, that just shows you were up to something and totally deserve it.)

Want to exist online? We need to know everything about you — your real name, address, email, age — to ensure you're not a criminal. But you're probably also lying. We need to spy on everything you do, too: every site you visit (and how long you spend there), every purchase you make, every message you send, every search you do. We will take everything you say in bad faith, so be careful about what you post. But it's also extremely suspicious if you don't post — who doesn't have an extensive social media presence these days? What are you trying to hide? You need to indicate that you think the right way. You aren't posting about this — you must not care; you must be a bad person. You deleted an old post — you must be trying to hide your awful views. You can't possibly just be removing things from your profile that no longer reflect who you are. You posted something that I don't like — I knew there was something off about you. It's not a leap to think you're also into worse things. You're probably a pervert. You're actually a criminal of the worst sort and this is an early warning sign for those of us who are smart enough to see it. We're only accusing you of these things NOW so you don't have an opportunity to do them.

Didn't you know? You need to be constantly watched and humiliated and inconvenienced and sometimes even attacked because that's the only thing standing in the way of bad things happening. If you find all this demeaning, there's something wrong with you. Only criminals would rather trade this for being less safe. You don't want us to go from thinking you're a criminal to knowing you're a criminal, do you?

...

Like, fuck. Aren't you tired of living like this???

Some of this stuff has been around for a long time, and it obviously isn't applied evenly across all demographics. But a lot of it has also gotten exponentially worse within the past few decades. Please don't ever accept any of this as normal or necessary or good, because it's not. I'm going insane watching people shrugging off the increasing infantilization and dehumanization of everyone just because this is all they can remember.

It doesn't have to be this way. Don't ever take this shit as a given — it wasn't that long ago that some of this would have been unthinkable. And the instant someone starts talking about doing things a certain way/supporting certain things because of "safety" or "security," be very careful about blindly agreeing with them. We lose very real, important things in pursuit of the nebulous concept of "safety."

[v1x3n]

S T E R E O T Y P I C A L

simon 'ghost' riley x reader ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : a serial killer haunts your town, but unfortunately for you there had to be one classic dumb, hot girl!

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst (?) - serial killer, stupid moves that would piss you off, subtle pantie stealing, knocked out.

you saw the news, all the stories online, you saw how everyone in the uk were panicked at the unknown serial killer going around. missing people rocked up dead, all around where you lived. your town was scared shitless.

you were scared, everyone had their doors and windows constantly locked. no one was out on the streets due to fear, the wind whistled and the town was near silent. weapons were handed out, you gripped hard onto a knife as you hear a loud bang outside. peaking through the window just to see your neighbours cat rummaging through a fallen bin. you groan and quickly look along to street, you knew it was a stupid move but you unlocked the front door.

stupid pretty girl move in a horror movie, right?

you tip toe outside, knife still held tight in your hand and you run over to grab the kitty. she meows and licks your fingers, you kiss the top of her head, "what you doing out here" grumbling to the cat, stomping back over to the house. stepping back inside and slamming the door back into place. plopping the kittycat onto the wooden floors so you could lock the door, "cmon baby" you coo and bend down to pet the cat. "ill get you some food, hm?" lightly walking into your kitchen.

opening up your fridge and pulling out some chicken from last night, you pull out a few pieces, placing them onto a plate and putting said plate onto the floor. clinking the side of the dish so the fluffy cat came running.

the cute little kitty was your neighbours cat, oreo, black and white little thing. her fur was fluffy and soft, slightly damp currently due to it rummaging through all the bins in the street and other shenanigans she would get up too. she was very cuddly and loved you, she constantly showed up at your door or in your garden, at your window.

you look over at the cat and smile at her chomping away, grabbing a small bowl and filling it up with cold water. placing it beside her.

sighing whilst looking through your kitchen window, glancing at the cat and you let out a second sigh. looking down at the the phone you pulled from your pocket. it was midnight, time for bed i guess.

soon you make sure the kitty is okay before heading upstairs. an eyebrow raises as you have a bad feeling deep in your stomach as you step through your bedroom door. peaking in and letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

walking back to your bed and grabbing the clothes you had scrupled up on your bed to take downstairs after your shower. the cute jeans, the small tank top, your scratty bra you needed to replace andd... your panties. which were misplaced. odd.

you look around your room, maybe you had dropped them? but after you check, nothing. you sigh, okay, that's fine. you're clumsy and had better things on your mind right now, you probably put them somewhere else whilst thinking of that psycho. yeah, thats sounds like you.

trotting back downstairs with your dirty washing in hand, oreo screeches. "hey hey, what's wrong " you mutter and bend over to pick up the kitty. cuddling her in your arms, walking through the kitchen to put away the clothes. you plop them in the washing machine and pepper the top of the cats head with kisses. "big scaredy cat, ain't ya?" cooing at the kitty , turning your eyes over to the living room before you started walking back in. "cmon kitty kitty" you softly say, your eyes look up at the front door. wait. you could've sworn you locked the door. the wooden door peaked up, a gust of air slipping through the slip in the door. you drop the cat, quickly looking down to see if the cat was okay - she was, so your eyes so back to the door. you quickly slam it shut, locking it up once more.

"hello?" you call out, stupid move. a creaking sounded from your stairs while you carefully step up them. water fills your eyes and you grab your phone, it dropping instantly to the floor as you jump, the sound of a deep booming voice pops out from behind you, "hello sweeth'art" you turn around and you sniffle, going to step back but the man steps forward you, "don't be scared" he mockenly coos.

you take a good look at the man, a scary mask plastered on his face and his whole body covered in black. fuck, he was big though. muscles making the dirty clothes almost rip, the only piece of skin showing was his eyes, gorgeous light brown eyes that stared into your soul. his pupils dialated at the sight of the poor girl, crying in front of him. so so scared. you peer down at his hand as it raises towards you, making you flinch back and run up the stairs. quickly sprinting to your room and slamming the door shut. looking down at your hand to see that, fuck, you dropped your phone. slight banging could be heard from outside, it was probably just him walking, he was fucking humongous. "hide and seek? fun" he chuckles, grabbing a lamp he found from a table in the hallway. he knocks your door and you scramble to the corner of the room, tears flow uncontrollably from your tear ducts.

after moments of silence, he jolts the door and it creaks open, you knew you should've gotten more locks. you sob in the corner as his shoes step forward.you meet eyes with him - sight trailing down to the lamp in his hand. he instantly sees you cuddled up in the corner, crying your eyes out. "love, divnt cry, to pretty f' tha'" he steps forward once more until eventually he was in front of you, he kneels down. you push your face away from him, "look at me, hun"

you sniffle once more and your fingers clench onto the ground below you. the masked man grabs your chin and forced you to look up at him, "gorgoeus thing" he hums.

"you know what?"

"w-what" you whisper.

"yer a doll, might keep you." was all you could hear before an object, the lamp, hits the side of your head. effectively knocking you out - your body slumps to the side.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up. 

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin. 

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him. 

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder. 

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule. 

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now. 

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed. 

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked  you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet. 

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you. 

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out,  or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed. 

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?” 

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢 ; 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: It was a normal night, till he had to look for you. And then, the storm began.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 8k warnings: pregnancy, talks of abusive parents, mentions of abortion.

a/n: as Jesus is reborn, so am I! Happy Easter to everybody that waited so long for this chapter to come out. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I got so busy this past month that if I hear anyone say 'illicit trade' or 'online trafficking' I might kill somebody lol. I hope this chapter compensates for the time, though. It is mostly Jason's pov, with references to the reader as she/her rather than you because I thought it might sound better. Idk, lmk if it's weird lol.

a/n 2: also, I can't begin to thank everyone for the incredible support in this series. I've got so many messages that had me on the verge of tears with happiness and how sweet they were. I trully hope I'm capable of continuing to bring you guys joy through this series and other stories. I love you all, and thank you so much for allowing me to finally let my ideas become words, and my words to have meaning

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

A cold shiver ran up Jason’s spine. The soft breeze coming off the opened fridge climbed up his shirtless torso, drying the sweat on his skin and leaving it cold and sticky. The nearly freezing water slid down his throat, giving him the refreshment he craved for after a long session of training, and an even longer day of work.

It was finally over. His session, his day, his week. Saturday couldn't have come sooner. Sighing in relief, he refilled the water bottle, shoved it back into it’s previous place and turned on his heel heading for a much needed shower. He was tired. Drained. And all he wanted to do was drop down in his bed and sleep for a whole entire night.

Picking out his phone from his joggers’ pocket, he took one last peek at the screen. Almost 10:00pm, and a weather report of an incoming rainstorm soon. Perfect, he thought. He loved to sleep to the sound of rain. So, he locked his phone, threw it on the sofa, and rushed to the bathroom, hoping to get a shower before it got too cold, leaving fast enough to get to bed before the raindrops started to fall.

He stripped down his pants in front of his mirror, a quick stop to admire his progress. Chest, arms, and back. All proof of his hardwork and commitment. And yet, a reddish mark by his neck was what really caught his attention. Roy had poked fun at it earlier, but his joke couldn’t be farther from the truth. A bug bite, as simple as that. An allergic reaction to a stupid bug. But that stupid reaction, that stupid mark, brought him back to the last time something like that was left on his skin.

Yn had left with countless marks after that brief session in a stranger’s office. Enough to last him a while. But not more than the first time he had you, right under the same roof he was at now. Marks on his neck, on his chest, arms, and back. If he thought too long of it, he could feel her lips warming his skin, making his mind go crazy, and his blood to boil.

Shaking his head, he tried to keep those thoughts away. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t appropriate. Yn was now the mother of his child. Nothing more than that. He couldn’t keep the thought lingering. So, sliding the glass door open, he entered the shower, hoping to wash away all the thoughts off his mind.

As the cold water hit his shoulders, relief spread to his entire body, even if the chilling weather of the start of fall was not the most adequate for such water temperature. Sinking his head under the cascade, he closed his eyes, mind emptying, and peace reaching him after a long and rough week.

It was silent in his head. But it wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wash his mind off of Yn. It was first the night he had you over, and under him, moaning his name repeatedly in his ear.  He remembered how soft her skin felt, how light was her touch, and yet he couldn’t forget the burning pain her nails had left on his back. 

He drowned in the memory of her intoxicating smell, and how the skin under her ear tasted sweet. For a moment, even through the freezing water, he swore he could feel her blood catching fire running through her body, warming him along the way through their skins, glued to one another, tangled in each other, in a night he would never forget.

And then came the memories of the second time. How annoyed she was, and how easily she gave in to him. It was like her body responded to his, knowing it was only him that could give him the pleasure she craved. He missed the feral, animalistic, feelings of that afternoon, and how she fit perfectly around him.

Stop, he thought to himself, opening his eyes to the bright room. This isn’t okay. But again, it was already too late. His throbbing cock rested against his lower abdomen, hard and leaking. He smelled his arousal mixed between the smell of his soap, and his hand reached for his tip, light touches already driving him insane. Resting his hand on the cold porcelain tile, he allowed his eyes to close again.

And then, he remembered the picture. Sent to him just a few hours earlier. It wasn't dirty. On the contrary, it was as innocent as one could be. It was her, playing along with a baby toy, those usually overpriced, but that could distract even a grown adult. And thus she was, distractedly playing with the toy as a picture was snapped without her acknowledgment, and probably sent to him without her knowing either. Her barely visible smile caught his eyes immediately. 

For the almost six months he had known her, it wasn’t a sight he got to see often, but that had been gracing his presence much more frequently now. It was beautiful. To him, it was art. Pure and soft. Bright and warm. He could watch it all day. He remembered the first time she smiled at him, in his kitchen, over snacks and laughter. Just before he had her pinned under him in the most intense lovemaking session he’d ever had.

He cursed himself. How could he turn an innocent picture into fire for his wet dreams? But how could he stop thinking of the soft skin of her neck, almost the focus of that picture, when it was exposed right there just for him to see? How could he stop his mind from wandering when it had been so long he had been with anyone? When he had been with her.

Only a few touches brought him his high, spilling all over his wall like a firetruck. Gosh, he hasn’t fucked anyone in so long it was almost pittyful. Feeling himself grow soft, he sunk himself in the water again, washing his face ferociously to wash the shame away. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed he could keep you out of his mind. He couldn’t keep doing it. Things had changed. It wasn’t appropriate. Fuck.

He walked to his bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Straight to his closet where, after a few minutes of searching, he found the new pair of sweatpants he had gotten. Gray like all others he owned. Putting it on, he returned to the kitchen, threw himself on the sofa, and prayed, while watching the darkened ceiling, that he could keep her out of his mind.

Soon closing his eyes, the darkness and the tiredness sank him into sleep. Letting go of lights and noises coming from the outside, he allowed the quietness to embrace him. However, his peace didn’t last long.

Underneath him, he felt the incessant vibrations of his phone, even if he couldn’t seem to find the device anywhere. It was just as the phone had stopped that he found it hidden between the pillows, and he unlocked the screen to a scary surprise. 

Yn 6 Missed Calls

“What the fuck!” he screamed out loud, worry slowly creeping up his chest, weighing it down and making it hard to breathe. 

She didn’t call him. Never. Not one single time. He was the one to always call and message to check if she was okay, or to start any conversation. Something must have happened, and going by the sheer number of times she had tried to contact him, it wasn’t good. Quickly unlocking his phone, he typed on the notification, calling Yn back straight away. She didn’t take long to pick up.

“Yn, what happened?” he questioned as soon as she picked up.

“Oh, thank god!” He heard from the other line, but the voice wasn’t hers. “Jason, It’s Vanessa here. Nessie. Yn’s friend.”

“H-hi, Vanessa,” he greeted through his wavering voice. “What happened? Where’s Yn?” he inquired. He wasn’t only met with silence from the other line, although Vanessa’s tense breathing indicated she was still on the call. With a demanding voice, he asked one more time, “Vanessa?”

“Jason…” She took a deep breath. “Yn is gone.”

It felt as if a heavy weight pulled his heart down, as it dropped lower than it ever had. Yet, his mind was empty, none of Vanessa’s words making sense to him. Yn was gone. Gone where? Why? Where was gone? He had so many questions, yet only once made it out of his lips.

“What?!” his voice faltered.

“She’s gone. I don’t know where to.” Vanessa’s voice too was shaky, and seemed to be holding back tears from falling down. “I heard everything through the walls but I was too afraid to go out and find him, because he scares the shit out of me. He’s really huge, you know, he could easily knock me down if I tried to help her,” Vanessa was rambling, and he could hear her incessant steps, as if she couldn’t keep herself still. “And they were fast too, by the time I got the courage to come out they were already gone, and…”

“Vanessa, calm down,” he requested, already fishing for a t-shirt and shoes from his bedroom. Whatever it was she was trying to tell him, it was worrying. Had someone taken her? Why?

“ ’m sorry. I-I just… I got her phone by accident. She accidentally left me with it when she handed me her shopping bags. So I’ve tried calling you ever since.” 

“Are you at home?” he asked and got a hum in responde. “I’m coming over, okay? I’ll be there in a second. But who took her, Nessie, please. Who was it?”

“No one took her,” she started to explain, pausing for what sounded to be a glass of water. Jason too prepared a glass before he left. “Her dad kicked her out. He found out she was pregnant.”

“He did what?!” he nearly screamed on the line, blood beginning to boil. He hadn’t heard much about her parents, but taking by how shaken about the pregnancy at first, he had no doubts they were partially responsible for her nervousness.

“He found out she was pregnant and kicked her out of her apartment,” she repeated. “Well, technically it’s his apartment, he pays for ever- But it doesn’t matter now. She’s gone and we have to find her! She was crying, a lot, and she left with only a backpack and a small suitcase. She can’t have taken much…”

“And it’s going to rain,” Jason added, already sitting in his car after flying down his building’s stairs. It wasn’t just rain, but a storm. She can’t be out in a weather like that, I have to find her. “Wait for me downstairs. I’ll be in front of your apartment in just a minute. I promise we’ll find her.”

“Vanessa!” he screamed at the girl standing on the sidewalk, looking left and right before turning to face the voice that had just called her. Jason had parked by the entrance of the building, fancy enough to have its own doorman and a beautifully decorated lobby behind its glass front doors. “How are you? Have you got any news?”

“I’m fine. At least trying to. And no news of her yet. I tried looking up and down the street, but she’s not around here anymore.” She looked at him apologetic, eyes now evidently holding back a pool of tears.

“She can’t have gone far. She was walking, right?” he asked, looking around at the still fast moving traffic on that grim Saturday night. The sky was starless, and heavy clouds filled it instead.

 “I’m so sorry, Jason,” Vanessa apologized, making him turn. Her chin trembled as her tears fell from her brown eyes. “I heard it all and couldn’t do anything. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, Nessie,” he tried to soothe her, calling her by the familiar nickname he so often heard coming off Yn’s lips, and wrapping her in a friendly hug. “It’s not your fault. There wasn’t much you could do. But, please, tell me everything that happened. I’m still trying to understand it.”

Breaking off from his hug, Nessie ran her hands up and down her arms in search of warmth before looking up to meet Jason’s eyes. “Her dad is an asshole.” Oh really?, he thought. “We were coming back from the mall, you know. I sent you the picture while we were there.” He nodded. “When we arrived back her door was open, and it usually means that her parents are around. So she shoved me all of her bags before her mother could snoop in and claimed they were for my cousin’s baby shower. Before I knew it, there was screaming outside and when I went to look, her mother was weirdly pacing around and Yn and her dad were nowhere to be found.

“I thought of running down the stairs, but the elevator was already on the ground floor and I knew I couldn’t make it on time. So I just looked down the window and saw him pushing her into the streets. Her bags as well. I couldn’t understand what he said, but he was still screaming at her. Jason,” she called him, but his attention hadn’t gone anywhere. “She looked so scared, even from that far. I could see her crying, on the floor, and walking down the street. I heard movement, so I hid back in my apartment. I even heard a knock on my door, but I was too scared to open and just started calling you.”

Jason’s rage slowly grew as Vanessa continued her story. How could anyone treat family like that? He couldn’t picture treating his mother, father, or any of his siblings like that. And he specially could never imagine doing something similar to his own daughter. Whoever that man was, he wasn’t a father. He was a fucking monster he wanted to beat up so bad…

“Since she moved here for college he keeps trying to take her back to their hometown, because he says Gotham is a corrupt city and that it will “corrupt” his “baby” daughter,” Vanessa continued her story. “From what she told me, they frequent this church, and he’s seen as this “model citizen”. A joke, let me tell you. He was always controlling of her and her sisters, and they couldn’t ever walk out of line or it would ruin it for him, whatever he meant.

“I’m not sure if it’s up to me to tell you this, but it's not the first time he kicked a daughter out of home. He found out her sister kissed another girl at a party and threw her out. I guess having an unmarried pregnant daughter does the same to him and he kicked Yn too.

“I swear,” Jason ran a hand on his face. “I can kill this man.”

“Get in line. Although I do think you have more chances than me,” she tried to joke and Jason let out a dry laugh. He really could kill that man. With every single word from Vanessa, he only got worse.

A few drops of water hit his head, announcing the rain he eagerly waited for earlier was about to start. “We have to go before the rain gets heavier. She can’t be on the streets in a fucking storm.”

“I called a friend to help us look for her. He’s just by the corner. We can split up and find her quicker,” Nessie informed, waving her hand at a car that parked just before the two of them. She fixed her belt in the passenger seat while Jason rested his forearms on the window.

“You go down the street and look for her south. I’ll go north and look for her there. Nessie, please call me if you…”  he instructed the guy when exalted voices caught his attention. Coming out of the glass doors of the modern apartment complex, a large man and his wife walked out of the building in a loud exchange, aiming for the taxi that had parked just behind Nessie’s friend black SUV. “Is that him?”

The sudden change in his tone frightened Vanessa, and she stood quiet for a while until she responded with quite uncertainty, “Y-yeah.”

In that moment, Jason’s knuckles turned white from how hard he gripped on the car’s window, and his face turned a bright shade of red. Letting go of the car, Vanessa’s scream wasn’t enough to stop him from stomping in the pair’s direction, not even her repeated attempts to hold at his wrist. He shook her hold easily, legs moving fast as he eyes were set on the man responsible for all of this.

Jason exhaled a trembling breath through his nose, and he could hear his own heart thumping in his chest. His arms hung as hard as stone to his sides, and his nails dug deep into the skin of his palms. There were a few blurry sports in his sight, and his eyes burned with anger. He was seeing red, both figuratively and literally, as the neon lights of a store close by shone brightly in shades of scarlet, painting the man’s frame in its bright colors.

The large frame of the man was closer. The bald spot in his head, now much more visible. He didn’t know the man’s name, nor how looked. They never shared a word, or even a glimpse at each other. But Jason knew, oh he knew, that he would never, ever again, let him step a foot close to his girl. He would never treat you like he did, and he would pay for it even if it came little by little. 

That man would never get close to his child and its mother, and he would make sure he remembered his name. Or the feel of his punch.

“Hey!” Jason called him with a loud growl. The old man turned in his direction immediately, unaware of the fist flying into his face.

The man all but fell to the ground with a loud thud, as his wife screamed in despair. His rage not vanishing after he knocked the man down, Jason climbed on top of him, throwing punches left and right to the man’s face and stomach, until he felt his hands aching and he was pulled away from him by two pairs of strong arms.

“Stop! Jason, let go!” Vanessa screamed as he squirmed in the two men’s arms, wanting to go back to the man who failed to sit up while his wife cleared his bloody lips.

“Get over it, mate. Let’s find her,” said Vanessa’s friend, and just then he let it go.

His hand shook as he held the steering wheel. Knuckles bloodied and in throbbing pain. He still drowned in adrenaline from the well beat up he gave Yn’s excuse of a father. Vanessa’s friend, Dale, had followed him to the car to make sure he was alright to drive, but Jason assured him he was fine. The man got what he deserved, and Jason was glad he was the one to deliver it.

Alone in his car, however, he could finally allow his emotions to come out. As he drove up the opposite direction of Dale’s car, a loud scream left his lungs. Pure rage evaded his body, as his eyes burned with tears he hardly fought against. 

Why is it that when it comes to us it is always so messy? Why can’t we catch a break?, he thought. From day one, everything with you was confusing, borderline stressful most of the time. He wanted better, quieter and more peaceful days. If he was having a hard time with all that is happening, he couldn't fathom how she’d be doing right now. And the baby. It certainly wasn’t healthy for the baby.

The lights became blurry as he tried to wipe the tears away, and he had to slow down his car to not cause any unwanted accidents. With the lower speed, he could more carefully watch the sidewalks, the remaining open stores, and street corners, all looking for any sign of her. At a traffic light, red made him stop, and his eyes roamed his surroundings.

However, the blinking lights of a ‘C’ were what trapped his attention. It was a clinic. An abortion clinic. He had to swallow dry as he tried to watch its inside through the glass door. The mere idea of Yn going by it making his heart drop. If that idea ever crossed her mind, he didn’t know, but he prayed it never did. He grew attached to it too quickly. To the baby, and to her. He’d been planning, purchasing, painting and drawing a future in his head, where the two of them would be a part of. He wasn’t sure he could let it go.

When the lights turned green, his foot pressed hard on the throttle, speeding out of there before he got even more nauseous. One street turned into another, and another, and another. Still not a sign that you were around. He was growing more and more desperate as the rain got heavier and heavier. If his hands weren’t hard glued to the steering wheel, they’d be trembling tremendously. It had been long since he’d felt like this. Alone, lost and desperate. A sense there wasn’t much else he could do, and that all he did didn’t seem to work. And as every single second passed without you there by his side, his anxiety  multiplied by millions.

The rain now poured, as if the sky was about to fall down. People rushed around, their umbrellas doing nothing to shield them from the water, and coats and jackets getting drenched as they looked for shelter. He was driving desperately, looking for anything, any sign, any indication that you were safe. He checked his phone for messages from Vanessa, or a call from his brothers he had begged for help.

Dick had called his colleagues, giving them Yn’s description, asking them to keep an eye out. Tim and Stephanie were looking for you in every camera they would hack in the city, and Damian was probably begging rats and insects to lead him Yn’s way.

A lighting strike hit the ground and illuminated the sky. And then he saw it.

Hidden in the darkened entrance of a now closed store, sat on the floor, curled down in a corner, was a girl. A bright orange suitcase laying beside her, a blue backpack resting on her side, as she had her face shoved between her knees. Shaking, from cold and tears. A girl that couldn’t be anyone but you. 

He stopped the car without thinking. Without caring if there was anyone behind him on the road. He just wanted to get to you. Stepping out, he felt the rain soak his head and his shirt, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was that he’d found you. Shouting into Gotham’s dark and gloomy night, he called her name and rushed to your side.

Her head bobbed up as quickly as he ran, and it searched around for the voice was coming from. When she realized it was him, she pulled herself up from the floor swiftly and into Jason’s arms, tangling her own around his waist and letting her face fall into his chest. Her tears soaked his shirt quicker than rain had done, and she shook in his hold and her loud sobs filled Jason’s ears.

His heart broke in one million pieces. The sight of her crying once again, too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even care for the harsh way in which she had slammed against his body, he was just glad you were there. Safe and in his arms. Thus, he held closer and tight, one hand caressing her nape and he left soft kisses at her temples. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed. “I’m here, okay? I’m here. You don’t need to cry anymore.”

Vanessa and Dale didn’t take long to arrive, but Yn didn’t stop crying even after they arrived there. The two girls, tangled in a tight embrace, cried on each other’s shoulders and the rain dropped as heavy as their tears did. Jason, on the other hand, tried to dry his eyes without anyone noticing, wiping the sleeve of his shirt on his face and turning away.

“You gave that man a good punch out there,” Dale’s raspy voice began by his side, bringing his attention away from the walls. “I would’ve done just about the same if it was my girl who was kicked out like that. Your girl should be happy she has you.” He tapped Jason’s shoulder, that way boys always do, and Jason let out a chuckle.

His girl. Yn was as much his girl as he owned the moon, and yet, he couldn’t make himself correct him.

“I just hope she will be fine.”

“I’ve heard she’s a strong one,” she chimed.

“Yeah!” he agreed with a smile. “My girl really is.”

Watching the two girls, he noticed Vanessa wipe Yn’s tears away, pushing her away then bringing her back into another hug that made Yn give out a teary laugh. She seemed to have calmed down, as no more tears ran down frenetically down her cheeks and her breathing seemed to have eased. Jason, then, decided to walk closer, with the other man trailing just behind. Yn soon took notice, as she gave him a smile as he approached.

“Are you gonna be fine?” Vanessa asked, rubbing a hand over her arm.

“I don’t know,” Yn answered. Her voice was weak, hoarse and fragile. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Jason noticed her chin restart to tremble, and he was about to hug her again if Vanessa wasn’t closer and quicker. Over her friend’s shoulder, Yn’s teary eyes caught his, staring at him sadly. Pulling away from the hug, Vanessa made an offer.

“I can make some space in my apartment for you. It isn’t big but I guess I make it fit, right?”

Giving her friend a soft smile, Yn appeared to agree.

“No!” Jason protested, louder than he had hoped. “I have a spare room. I was planning on fixing it for our baby, but you can stay there. It’s yours. Besides, it would be more practical,” he explained. “I can easily take you to appointments, or even for work. I wouldn’t mind. And when the baby arrives, I can help you with taking care of it.”

He eyed Yn hopefully. “C’mon. I’m the baby’s dad. I wouldn’t be right if I didn’t help you out.”

“I just don’t wanna be a bother,” Yn said.

“Yn, you could never bother me,” he stated.

Staring at her, Jason waited expectantly. He knew she was weighing every option and considering every mild detail. But he just wanted her to say yes. He wanted to have her near. It wasn’t just convenient, it was necessary. To him it was. To have her close meant to always know if her and the baby were alright, safe and taken care of. He wouldn’t worry if she had arrived home, or if she had gotten sick at work. He would know. Because he would be there.

Yn took her time thinking, while Jason agonized in his spot. He had built too much hope in such a short amount of time, he was scared of how he would be if she didn’t accept his proposal. After all, he was just the stranger she was having a baby with, not her best friend. But a response came out, eventually. Nodding shortly, Yn offered him a smile and a watery stare. A stare that said everything she didn’t need to voice, but that he caught anyway. Thank you.

“I’ll miss my neighbor,” Vanessa cried out, and hugged Yn tightly by her side.

“I’ll miss you too, nugget,” Yn returned. “But I’m sure Jason won’t forbid you from visiting me.”

“Would I even have the chance to?” Jason asked playfully.

“No!” they replied in unison, bringing out laughter out of the four of them. Even though the rain progressively got worse, finally, the mood had lightened.

Vanessa offered her jacket so Yn could get in the car without getting wet, and Jason was about to take her bags when Dale stopped him before he moved. “Take care of your girl, I’ll take the bags.”

Nodding in gratitude, Jason instead moved to your side. “Did you manage to get a lot? I mean, out of your apartment. Into your bags?”

Yn only shook her head.

“I can ask Mr. Emmons for the spare key and pick up some of your stuff,” Vanessa said, walking beside her. “He loved you, I’m sure he’d make that exception for you.”

“Are you sure?” Yn asked. “I really don’t wanna bother anyo…”

“Yn!” Jason and Vanessa scolded in unison.

“I’m sorry,” Yn let out a soft laugh. “If you want to, I won’t complain.”

It was past midnight when both Vanessa and Dale left Jason’s apartment. With them, four trash bags full of Yn’s stuff were brought in, and thus started Yn’s moving process. The girls worked on taking notes of everything that had come in the bags, and of everything there was missing. Vanessa was going to play dealer for a few days, and weirdly, she was very excited for it.

While they worked on the bags, Jason and Dale took a look at the spare bedroom. It was nearly empty, except from a few gym items and boxes laying around. With the other’s help, Jason cleared out the room, sweeping the floors and the spider webs off the walls. Also, he made a promise to find her a bed, somewhere. No one cared enough for dinner that night, and the pair left as nonchalantly as they had arrived.

“You can stay in my bedroom tonight. I’ll take the sofa,” Jason explained, once the two of them were alone. “At least until I can get you a bed.”

“It’s okay,” Yn reassured, and left him alone to take a shower.

While she readied to go to bed, Jason made sure he picked up everything he would need to sleep in the living room out of his bedroom. He didn’t want to bother her by coming in and out of it while she was there. He knew she was going to be uncomfortable enough for today, this new arrangement requiring time to get used to. So, he changed into comfortable clothes, prepped his makeshift bed with pillows and blankets, and waited for her to come out of her shower.

The faint water noises coming from the bathroom mixed with the storm sound coming from outside, creating a relaxing atmosphere he was grateful for after all the stress he’d gone through. He could only hope Yn felt as calm as he did now, that she wasn’t hiding any tears from him in her shower. But he knew it was asking for too much, she was not going to get over it this easily. She had cried a lot in the car ride to his apartment, and when he passed by the bathroom door he could hear her sniffles.

It killed him to see her like that. He’d do just about anything to make her stop hurting. Sat on the sofa, he thought about everything in his reach he could possibly attempt to do to ease her pain, but none of them were possible this late at night. However, as soon as the door opened and Yn came out, her hair wet and fresh smell spreading through the whole apartment, his thoughts emptied out to just her.

“I guess I’m going to bed now,” she shyly stated. Jason simply nodded, too stunned with how she looked in just a plain t-shirt and pajama shorts to form any coherent sentence. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Good night, Ynie,” was all he said as he watched her close his bedroom door behind her.

“And Jay,” she suddenly reopened the door calling out for him. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

Her soft smile was genuine, adorable, and made his stomach spin. In normal circumstances, he’d have told her she didn’t need to thank him for anything. Tonight, though, he didn’t want to argue.

“You’re welcome,” he offered her a gentle grin. But I’d make this your home even if you had yours.

Upon his return to solitude, he hoped the sounds of the night would lull him to sleep. He was tired, and on any other night he’d have dozed off easily. However, tonight wasn’t the case. Even if he closed his eyes, even if he was curled up comfortably, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He continuously rolled and rolled until he got tired of trying. So he fished for the remote in the total darkness of the room, and turned on the TV, the volume on the lowest, to see if anything in there could make him sleepy.

He had found a cartoon. One of those late night, highly inappropriate ones, and actually found it to be mildly entertaining. But the creaking sound of the door was more interesting. Lifting his head slowly to look over the back of the sofa, he found Yn peeking out of his bedroom.

“Can’t fall asleep?” he asked, and she just nodded. “Come here.”

Sitting up, he made some space for her to sit  beside him, making sure he left her with the softest pillows. Adorably, she sat down and immediately pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging it protectively, and resting her chin on her own knees.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. However, his attention was now far gone from the TV. “I just put it on to distract me. See if I could fall asleep to it.”

Moments of silence followed. Yn’s focus on the cartoon, while Jason was fixed watching her. She looked so serene, it didn’t even look like she had just been kicked out by her own father. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but he feared she would get mad with how much he had asked it since they’d arrived home. He also wanted to hug her, feel the comfort of her warmth and maybe fall asleep to it, but he knew it would be too much for one single day. So, he was content with the light brushes he’d get on her skin.

“Nessie told me what you did to my dad,” she said suddenly, and Jason got nervous about what she thought of it. It was still her dad, even with all the pain he had caused. He was afraid she’d be mad at him for it. So, he had to explain himself.

“He deserved it,” he quickly added. His throat was dry, but he still insisted. “He deserved it for what he did to you. I could not…”

“I get it,” she broke him off. “It just… feels weird. I’m glad you did, but also not.”

He understood.

“I was mad at him at some point, and thought of doing it myself. But he is my dad. I don’t think I could do it if it ever came to it. Even if I collected all the anger I harvested throughout my entire life, I couldn’t lift a finger against him.”

Her head moved, now facing him with her cheek laid on her legs. Her eyes were intense, but sad. Glowing, but it wasn’t happiness.

“I get it,” he told her. “I really do.” And he continued to look at her till it gave him courage to finally ask. “Was he this bad your whole life?”

She shook her head. “He had his good moments. Few, but they were there. We just had to be doing something he’d actually be happy about.”

“He’d always make us take the classes he wanted. Go to places where he liked to go, and where his ‘friend’ could see him, you know, boast about how great his family was. Even our friends he got to pick. They had to be from church, and from rich families. People we could fawn over, grow attached to like vines. I guess he thought if we were friends with them, he would become friends with the parents, and what better than rich friends for you to parasite, right?

“I don’t even know how he let me come to Gotham in the first place. He made my sister marry young so she wouldn’t go away for college, so I don’t know how he didn’t try that on me too. I mean, he did try, but none of the guys were actually interested in pursuing me for him to insist on it… What?” he questioned when she heard him scoff.

“Why wouldn’t they be interested in you?” he let out before he knew it. Yn shyly hid her face from him before continuing.

“I kinda looked mad all the time.”

“Oh, really,” Jason mused, earning a slap on his bicep.

“I was just… an angry teenager,” he gave her a look. “And young adult too, okay?” she let out a brief laugh. “I don’t know why, I just was. Am. I don’t know. They were just always up my ass, and I guess it got me riled up. I could talk back to them, he might have killed me if I did. So I just… I just…”

“Stocked up with anger?” he finished for her.

“Yeah, I stocked up with anger. And didn’t know where to let it out,” she said, and went quiet for a while. “Was your family as insane as mine?”

“Sorta,” he scoffed. “They are wild, but not bad.”

He didn’t want to talk much, but she looked at him curiously. Almost begging him to talk.

“I was adopted when I was nine. My father had already adopted my older brother, and after me he got Tim, Steph and Cass, and then he found out he had a biological son that is just like him and annoying as shit. I’ll tell you, Damian is a lot. He adopted a cow and just told Bruce to deal with it. Kid is insane. ”

The girl looked at him baffled. A cow? Where would a middle class kid raise a cow in Gotham?

“That sounds… fun,” she gave him a big smile.

“Really?” he wondered.

“My family never did anything out of the ordinary,” she stated.

“My family doesn’t know what ordinary means,” he joked. The two of them laughed, TV show long ignored. Jason never forgot how, when she wanted it, her company could be so pleasant. He felt like she really listened to him, that she didn’t think his takes or stories were just a joke or meaningless. He actually enjoyed having her around, and hoped moments like this would become more frequent with her habiting the same place as him.

“You know,” he found the confidence to start speaking again. “I lied to you… That day at the doctor.”

Yn eyebrows frowned in a questioning look, and so, Jason continued. “I… My birth parents. I know who they are.” 

He felt guilty that day. For lying so blatantly. But it was something too personal for him, something he hadn’t shared with many. It was a part of his life that still hurt him, even if years had passed, and he had finally gotten a new family. He wasn’t ready to share it then, not in front of a doctor, a total stranger. And he knew the risks of his lie. He was omitting important information for his baby’s health and future, but he wasn’t ready.  In fact, he didn’t even know he was ready now. But Yn had been so honest, so open about that part of her life, one he knew now caused her much pain, that he felt the need to offer something back.

It was Yn’s soft hum that broke him from his thoughts and made him continue. “They were addicts. Very poor. I know they did the best the could to raise me, but their addiction was unstoppable. My dad started working with bad people to put food on the table. Last time I checked on him he was in jail. Might as well be dead by now, I haven’t cared to look him up.” His voice came out low, timid. A lump tightened his throat, making it hard for him to speak, but he still insisted. “My mom… She passed away. I’m not sure if it was the drugs, or if she got sick. I just remember her looking really bad.

“I was on the streets for a while, stealing tires and other things, when my father found me. He took me home, gave me food, and I haven’t left there ever since. I mean, I have my own home now, and life wasn’t easy there either, but they still are everything I have. I guess that’s why I grew attached to you so fast… I-I mean, the baby. The idea of the baby. I think I just wanted to have something that is really mine, that I can say I was the one to build and care for. My own family. I just got excited, you know. Let me show you something.”

Avoiding the tears by a millisecond, Jason stood up from his place and went to his closet. There, in the same place he had left it ever since he had bought it, he took the deep brown romper, with cute little ears and an even cuter fluffy tail. He saw it just a few days after Yn came to his apartment with the news he was going to be a dad, just as the idea started to settle in. He hadn’t told his brother, nor his father. The idea just lingering in his head, and once he found it on-line, he had to get it. He proudly got his baby’s first outfit on a whim. But it was too perfect to let it pass, and it was on sale too. It must have been a sign.

Walking fast back to the living room, he dropped at her side on the bouncy cushion. “I got this on-line I think two weeks ago. I thought it was adorable and I just needed to have it. I saw so many babies wearing those on the internet that I couldn’t stop picturing my own baby in one of them. Strolling around, you know. Stumbling on his, or hers, steps, or crawling around in it. Like an actual bear,” he let out a laugh, admiring the garment in his hand.

When he turned to look at Yn, though, he found her eyes watery. Her chin trembled as she bit her bottom lip, an attempt at making it stop. Jason wondered if he had said something wrong. If he had hurt her unknowingly. His own heart started to beat like crazy, bleeding pain upon her painful expression. “Yn? Did I say something wrong?”

“No!”, she cut him before he could finish. She dried her eyes with her hand and continued, “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, Jay. I’m gonna head to bed.”

Placing a quick peck on his cheek, she might as well have run back to the bedroom.  Her sniffles, barely audible. She left him alone, to his own torturing thoughts of what he might’ve just done to make her react like this. Or was it just the hormones? Did pregnant women just act like this? 

No matter the answer, he stood in the darkness of the night and in the coldness of the rain. But the lingering burn of her kiss on his skin kept him warm, and could finally sleep soundly.

Sunday was quiet, and Nessie had spent the whole day by your side. Not much talking happened between you, her, or Jason. You just hung around, in silent company.

Jason, somehow, had gotten you a bed, and he and Dale, who had stopped by per Nessie’s request, built it in an instant. The room that was now to be yours wasn’t large, but it was enough. You had to learn to leave with enough now. Jason told you he would help you decorate as you wished, even though he had just painted the walls white in expectation of the baby’s gender. He sounded like he was full of ideas for a nursery, excitedly talking about items he had seen on-line or at stores. Nessie joked he might be the one nesting, and not you.

She left early this time, and your dinner with Jason was shared in silence. The two of them had tried to convince you to call in sick at work on Monday, to try to relax a bit more. Let your new reality sink in. But you knew you couldn’t. Sandra needed you, and you needed the distraction.

When morning came, the sun rays hit you straight in the face, the lack of curtains allowing the room to be bright and warm even if it was still early. You came out still in your pajamas, and immediately the smell of food filled your nose. The past few weeks of your pregnancy made you slightly wary of the smell’s potential to make you sick, but it was impossible to deny it smelled good and tasty.

“Good morning,” Jason greeted with a beaming smile. He seemed to be ready to head out to work. “I made you some breakfast. I’ve already eaten.”

“You got me feeling like a baby with all this food and stuff,” you commented. But it was true, he had been doing just about everything to make you feel comfortable and at home in his apartment.

“Hey! You are a baby,” he stated, and you scoffed. “At least while you don’t deliver my baby, you’re baby.”

You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back a smile. “Anyway, I have to go now. Are you really going to work today?” he asked. You just nodded. “Okay…” he breathed out. “If you need anything. And I mean, anything, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be ready to answer you whenever.”

“You don’t have to worry, Jay,” you started, but one notification from your phone stole your attention briefly. “I’ll be alright. I promise.”

Jason looked at you as if he didn’t believe your words. His deep blue eyes boring into yours as if he tried to catch your lie in them. With a deep and long exhale, he accepted, or at least he pretended, that you would be fine without him. “Still, call me, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

Sitting on the island stool, you took a look at the meal he had prepared you. It really did look as delicious as it smelled. But you suddenly weren’t hungry.

You watched him pick up his bags, put on his shoes and leave. The guilt eating at your chest the entire time. He waved you goodbye with a large grin, happy to be starting his week it seemed. Yet, this morning, you struggled. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat with the notification staring right at you. A memory of your darkest hour.

Picking up your phone, you read it one more time.

Clinic girl Are you still going to schedule your abortion appointment?

It still stung as strong as it did minutes ago, when you first saw it on your screen. Your mind battled with the idea, even though you knew your answer very well. The smell of the food suddenly was making you sick, and your appetite, by this point, had completely vanished. Rubbing at your temples, you decided on putting an end to it.

You It won’t be necessary.

Putting your phone away, you got up to change. And you changed quickly, just like your life had done. Quick and sharp like an arrow, or an assassin’s blade. Changing everything in its course. Soon, you were closing the apartment’s door behind you, taking one last glimpse of what your life had become. Of what your future was going to be. You and him. Your baby soon to come in.

.

.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @amberpanda99 ; @capswife ; @erochuu ; @fairyeoll ; @gone-batty-fics ; @ichi-matsu-san ; @jasontoddslover ; @jaysgirlx ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @lacunaanonymoused ; @loonymoonystuff ; @lothiriel9 ; @marsbars09 ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin ; @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona ;

[paleepeaches]

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: double chapter friday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You put on the outfit Sy picked out. The lilac skirt and the matching razor back tank top are a bit mismatched in style but the colour is almost exact. You add a silver necklace to add a bit more to the top and even out top and bottom. 

You take out a pair of white keds and slip them on. As you do, Sy stand on the door mat with Aika prancing excitedly around him. He deepens his voice and tells her to sit. She obeys, still trembling with elation as he hooks her leash into place. 

As you stand, you find his attention on you. His eyes scale up and down your body as you brush your hand up and down one arm. He tilts his head and his cheek dimples as he exhales through his nose.  

“Well, let’s go,” he commands and Aika jumps to her feet as you nearly leap in place. 

He opens the door, your keys already in his pocket, and he waits for you to go ahead of him. He turns to face the door as he shuts it. He has the leash around two fingers as he slides the keys in the lock and turns. 

As he turns towards the hall, he stops and looks at you. You waver, uncertainly, cautious of a single misstep. He offers the leash. 

“Why don’t you take her, sweetie?” He says, “two of you needa get used to each other.” 

You take the leash as Aika waits patiently. At least she’s trained well. You only ever had cats so you’re not entirely sure about dogs. They’re cute, sure, but a lot stronger. 

You continue down the hall and to the stairs. Sy walks calmly beside you. You’re happy at least that the rage no longer roils off of him, though a tension remains. You sense it in the subtle twiddle of his thick fingers and the way he keeps popping and cracking his joints. 

Outside, the sun glints blindingly above, casting a shine much too bright for your mood. Aika stops and the leash tugs in your hand. You turn back as she pees in the grass and step closer to slacken the leash. Oops. You make a face. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re doing good,” Sy encourages, “she can be a bit wild when she wants to. Probably more like you than you think.” 

His suggestion makes you want to frown but you won’t let him see your discomfort. You continue down the sidewalk, keeping pace with the sniffing dog as Sy lazily swaggers behind you. She stops again then crosses to the other patch of grass. You follow her. 

If it wasn’t for your company, you might enjoy the day. There’s bumblebee’s digging into stores of pollen, buzzing around vibrant petals, and birds cheeping from the interior of bushes, and wispy clouds across the sky. You might have taken a picture or two, even though your phone lens rarely catches the true beauty of the world. 

You continue around the corner and suddenly Aika darts forward. She pulls you nearly off your feet and you stomp clumsily after her, trying not to topple. You see what she sees only as she gets within snapping distance of the fluffy cat. The feline hisses before dashing away and you pull back the barking dog. 

“Aika,” Sy says firmly and quiets the canine, “good girl.” 

The silt in his voice makes even you freeze. You peek back at him and hold out the loop of the leash. You recoil as you notice the phone in his hand. Your phone. The little pearly wrist band hangs from the corner of the blush pink case. He has the lens aimed right at you. 

“Say hi,” he waves from his side of the phone, “got my girls out for a nice walk in the sun.” 

“What are you--” you quiet, realising what must be going on. 

“Your fans want to see you, sweetie,” he chimes. “Isn’t she cute? My lady. Waited for me so long.” 

He turns the camera around, holding it at arm’s length as he comes to stand beside you and faces the sunlight. You gulp as his hand goes to your hip and he pulls you close, leaning in to press his jaw to your head, angling the phone up to capture both of you. You try to smile. 

“Finally going public,” he sounds almost giddy, “military sh—stuff. Couldn't disclose it til I got home but here we are.” 

He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple. He purrs and slowly releases you. He stands straight and backs up, once more aiming the camera at you. You feel like you might shatter into pieces. 

“We’re gonna grab some coffee. There’s a cafe around here. You’ll remember it. She did a live back in March. Got the vanilla chai, didn’t you, sweetie? I been waiting this long to get back and try it with her,” he commentates, oblivious to the people who glance in his direction. He keeps his arm extended. “Go on, Aika’s getting antsy.” 

You look down at the dog and she looks up at you. You spin and continue down the pavement. You should scream and shout and tell the world that this man is crazy. Yet it doesn’t matter. There’s probably a single viewer, if any. You realise now, he was probably your only fan. The others you’ll chalk up to bots or other weirdos. 

A trickle of ice flows through your chest. He knows where the cafe is. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching, not just on the phone? You don’t know why you keep asking. It doesn’t change a thing. 

You approach the short iron fence that marks off the patio of the cafe. You slow and Sy stands at your side, showing the tables and patrons to the camera. He rubs between your shoulder blades. 

“So how ya wanna do it? You wanna wait with Aika or you wanna run in?” He asks. 

You gulp. There is not better option. It’s all just the same. 

“I’ll get the coffee,” you offer and untangle the leash from around your wrist. “What do you want?” 

“Hm, good question,” he says, “why don’t ya surprise me. You know I got a sweet tooth.” 

“Right.” 

He takes the leash and you turn, stiffly marching through the gate and up to the door. You enter and as you’re shut in, you clutch the sides of your neck and blow out through your lips. No, you don’t know he has a sweet tooth. You don’t know him. As much as he scares you to death, he’s starting to make you really angry. It’s just how he talks as if you actually know who he is! He’s a stranger. A creep! 

You stand in line and only remember to step up for your turn as someone taps your shoulder. You mumble an apology and step up. You hadn’t even checked the menu. You look at the specials board and try to wet your dry tongue. 

“Um, white mocha,” you order in a croak, “and a uh, a lavender latte. Thanks.” 

The barista offers to add on items from the bakery. You decline and pay, already spending enough on the overpriced coffee. You shuffle along to await your order and mull your options. None. You have none. 

When your number is called, you grab your drinks and quickly spin around. You follow another customer to the door and he holds it open for you. He smiles as you step through and you thank him. 

“Not at all,” he steps out after you. “You got your hands full.” 

“It’s really nice of you,” you say as you walk just ahead of him, turning your head to glance over your shoulder. 

“Pretty girl like you. How could I not,” he says as you reach the gate, “have a good day, miss.” 

“Uh,” you’re surprised by the compliment, “you too, sir.” 

You give an awkward purse of your lips as you stand in the open gate. You look around and find Sy watching you. You go to him and hold up the drinks. 

“Um, I got the white mocha... not sure if you like that.” 

“Ooh, white mocha, sounds delicious, just like you,” he purrs, “and what did you get?” 

He takes the cup, Aika’s leash around two thick fingers. You stand dumbly, staring at the phone he keeps pointed in your face. 

“The lavender latte,” you answer flatly. 

“Well, the lady and I are gonna have our coffee date,” he says to the camera as he flips it around, “walk the pup and all that. Hope you all have a good day. Right, sweetie?” 

He once more puts you on the stream. Your lip trembles, “sure, yeah. Have a good day everyone.” 

You hold a shaky smile and he taps the screen several times with his thumb. He slides the phone into his short’s pocket and tastes his mocha. He waves you down the sidewalk and Aika takes the lead. He’s quiet as he slurps from the plastic lid. 

“That boy,” he speaks at last, “said you were pretty.” 

You blanch and turn the cup in your hand. The heat seeps through the sleeve and adds to the sheen across your skin, “er, I guess. I don’t know.” 

“Who was he?” Sy asks harshly. 

You flinch and peek up at him. He’s not happy. His entire demeanour has shifted. 

“I don’t know. A stranger. He just held the door,” you shrug, “guess he was being nice.” 

“Being nice? Shouldn’t be talking to strangers,” he reproaches. 

You nearly choke. Yeah, you shouldn’t. He taught you that well. 

“You are a pretty girl,” he says, “so I’m just lookin’ out for you. Some men...” 

You keep your eyes ahead as you fight to hold your composure. You drink from the cup, tasting the floral foam, and swallow. You force the breath from your chest and steady your nerves. 

“Sorry, I... won’t do it again.” 

He hums and reaches to grab your hand. His large one swallows yours. You don’t pull away, even as you desperately want to . He walks along with you, swing his arm slightly. 

“Isn’t this nice, sweetie?” He purrs, “you and me and Aika. Like a little family.” 

You grit your teeth and your aching cheeks fall. You can’t smile any long. You try to hide your face as you hover your mouth over the cup, “yeah,” you wisp out, “it’s nice.” 

💜

When you get back to the apartment, you’re exhausted yet adrenaline has you wide awake. Sy lets Aika off her leash and feeds her as you toss your empty coffee cup. You linger around the bin nervously, uncertain what to do next. You’re trapped again within these walls that once spoke of your freedom. 

Sy groans and stretches his neck. He runs his hands over his shaved head and combs his fingers through his thick beard. You step away from garbage before he notices you hiding. 

“Hot out, I’m beat,” he yawns, “what about you, sweetie?” 

“Yeah, uh, kinda,” you hug yourself and sway, “but um, not too bad.” 

“Ugh, one thing I was happy about was gettin’ outta the heat,” he pulls on his shirt and lifts it over his head. The fabric is darkened around the chest and arms with his sweat. More of it glistens in his body hair as he strips away the tee.  

You chew your lip and go to turn the fan on, turning it to oscillate. You sense him in the edge of your vision. He hangs the shirt across the back of a dining room chair then comes back to the living room. You stay close to the wall. 

“Er, Sy,” your heart jumps as your doubt clogs your throat. 

“Mhmm,” he flops onto the couch and leans back. He’s shameless and shirtless. His muscles flex along his arms and chest. He’s huge.  

“Do you think I can have my phone? I wanted to check my messages,” you push your palms together and twist your hands. 

“Don’t got none,” he says, “forget about that. Let’s disconnect. You and me, sweetie, let’s enjoy a quiet night in.” 

You want your phone but you know better than to push him. You’ve seen what happens when you do. You peer over at the dent in the wall. 

“Sure,” you go to him and sit on the couch, keeping a foot between you. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

You reach for the remote and he stops you. He snatches your hand back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you to lean into the couch with him. He crowds you as his scent suffocates you. It smells like sweat and generic deodorant. 

“We don’t need TV, sweetie, let’s just enjoy each other,” he reaches across you and rubs your upper arm. 

“Um,” you nearly choke, “it’s almost dinner time--” 

“It’s early,” his voice is rocky, “sweetie, it’s alright. Just relax. It’s finally just us.” 

“Sy, I... I should get some work done,” you sniff. 

“You should take it easy. You work too hard,” his hand brushes along your shoulder and to your neck. He drags his knuckles up your throat, “you’re gorgeous, you know that? This colour,” he slips his hand back down and touches the top of the tank, “looks so good on you.” 

“Thanks, I, er,” you squeeze your thigh and gulp. You can’t help the tremor that rolls through you, “Sy, please,” you reach up and grab his hand, “I should--” 

“It’s okay to be nervous. I am too, sweetie,” he rasps as he leans in, “but I can’t wait any longer.” 

He frees his hand from yours and cradles your face. He dips his head and you press your hand to his chest, helpless to stop him as he smothers your mouth with his. You let out a muffled gasp as he crushes his lips to yours, his tongue poking around eagerly. His hand crawls around the back of your head as he traps you against the couch. 

Your fingers curl against the muscle of his chest and he groans. He pulls you against him, falling back with you until he’s flat on the cushions. He brings you over him, and arm hooked around you as his other hand stays on your head. His tongue invades your mouth as you struggle to breathe past his hunger. Your brain screams at you to bite him, to smack, to do anything, but you’re paralysed with futility. 

[deadandphilgames]

A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)

Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.

In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright. My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.

Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.

It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.

This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.

Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.

All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.

Love and good luck.

- Dan

[satorusugurugurl]

Romance for the Recently Deceased

Summary: When Choso and his family Move into a farmhouse on the countryside. He’s very pleased to find a ghost living in his attic.

Characters: Kamo Choso x AFAB!ghostreader

Warnings: Language, mentions of death, drowning, sex, ghost sex! 😘

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N Kinktober day 10! Beetlejuice! So I kinda took some themes from Beetlejuice and made it a short romance! Like parts from the movie and musical.enjoy!

Moving to the countryside had been a complete shock to Choso. He had been frustrated leaving behind Tokyo and all of his friends. But seeing Yuuji and the girls running around the halls in the large countryside home made it tolerable. Well, that, along with the attic.

They had been living in the house for nearly a month, and the last moving truck had brought the rest of their stuff from Tokyo. Choso walked in, holding a bag full of books in one hand. He had just returned to town after walking the kids to school when he heard footsteps from the kitchen. He followed them, rolling his eyes as he watched his adopted dad’s Gojo and Suguru fighting over a box full of plates.

“They’re original Suguru, plus they’re super cool and fitting for the house!!”

Suguru snarled before yanking the box of plates out of Gojo’s hands. “Satoru, if you don’t let me gut out this house and make it my own, I will go insane, and I’ll take you with me.” Upon hearing that, Gojo promptly releases the box with a pout.

“That’s just cruel. The last owner of the house must’ve loved them. I don’t see why we have to give them away.” Choso shot a glance towards the stairs. “

“Well, that person doesn't get a day on what tableware we use now.” Suguru huffed, blowing some of his bangs out of his face. “We have our plates, and people in desperate need of plates could use these.”

Yeah, that was something you would say.

“Hey.” Choso finally announced his presence, walking into the kitchen and heading straight for the fridge.

“Hey Cho, ya’ get the kids to school, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll pick them up in a bit too.”

Choso grabbed a bottle of water before slowly making his way out of the kitchen. “Oh, Choso, have you seen the skeleton key around? The realtor said she dropped it off, but we can’t find it anywhere..” Suguru asked just as Choso rounded the corner to bound up to his favorite part of the entire house. “We wanted to get up to the attic to clean it out. But I can’t find that damn key.”

Choso gently grabbed the edge of the wall, pulling himself back to look into the kitchen, ignoring the weight in his pocket because of said skeleton key. “Nope, I haven’t seen it all.” His adopted father shared a look before shrugging.

“Oh well, we’ll get to it when we can.”

Yeah, there wasn’t a chance in hell they were ever getting into the attic. That was going to be a sanctuary, the one place that was left untouched by their hands. Even if he had to change the locks continuously, he would.

Because that was your space, you were the house's original owner before death. All your items were there, and you had made yourself a lovely little studio apartment—one that Choso found peace in. The attic and you had been the best part of this move.

When Choso first moved in, he was given the skeleton key by the realtor herself. He fully intended to use that key to get into the attic, which was mysteriously still locked, no matter how many times they tried to open it and make it his space—having three younger siblings and two adoptive dads who were constantly on top of each other. It made it difficult for him to find peace aside from the college courses he took online.

He can still remember that day you met. He had opened the attic door with ease. Slowly creeping it open, it was surprisingly dust-free. That itself should’ve been his first sign that something was going on. There was a sudden crash from off further inside before you came, stumbling out, wearing nothing but a sheet with holes in it. Choso was surprised to see somebody was in the attic.

“What the hell?” He asked, more annoyed than scared at this point.

“Oooooh~~!” You wiggled your arms underneath the sheet, trying to be menacing and scary. “I’m a scary ghost! Begone human!”

Choso snickered, pinning a brow at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “This is supposed to be scary?” he questioned, biting back a laugh as you stomped your foot on the ground.

“Yes!”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, honey bee, but it’s not.” He shook his head, pulling his cell phone out and snapping photos of you. “What’s going to be scary is when Suguru finds out you put holes through his Egyptian cotton sheets.”

Choso flipped through his camera, looking at the photos he had just taken of you, surprised to see your feet weren’t showing up. He zoomed in and out and realized that not only were your feet invisible, but your little hands peeking out from under the sheet weren’t visible either. He blinked, looking back at you with curiosity.

“What are you?”

That’s when you pulled the sheep down, revealing your pretty face. “I’m a ghost, dammit!” Choso couldn’t help but stare. You were so lovely, your skin was flawless, and your hair was beautiful; the frustration that was etched into your features was cute.

“You don’t look dead when I imagined seeing a ghost dealer usually mangled their gross and decaying.”

“Well, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones!” You paused for a long moment. “Wait.” You blinked, eyes going wide. “You can see me?!”

“Yeah.” Choso grinned while walking towards the sofa and flopping down on it. “Ya’ know, you’re really pretty for a ghost.”

He swears that even to this day, he watched you flush at his compliment. “W-Well, thank you. But you’re kinda strange” You folded the sheet up and placed it on a table with a stack of books.

“I myself am strange and unusual. I’m Choso, what’s your name?”

That night had been the beginning of your strange and unusual friendship. One that was constantly full of laughter and jokes. Along with heartache over what had happened to you. You weren’t allowed to leave your house for the next fifty years, stuck on earth until it was your time to go to the afterlife. And the seven months had been exhausting. You couldn’t remember a lot about your death. But the people in town said you had saved a little boy from drowning in the river just by your house.

So many people called you a hero, but you just saw yourself doing the right thing when no one else would. That, along with your personality and looks, made it relatively easy for Choso to fall in love with you. A ghost of all people. But that didn’t change how he felt about you.

No matter what happened, he would ensure your attic, the space that had grown to be both your space sacred. He would never take that away from you because he refused to let anything happen to you.

Reminiscing over the last month made the long path to the attic stairs short. As he approached the door, he was welcome to buy the soft beat of the music playing, only loud enough for someone to hear if they approached it. He knocked three times before opening the door with the skeleton key in his pocket.

“Hey, I’m back.”

Choso looked around the attic, finding you swaying to the music as you dog through one of the mini boxes still lingering around the attic full of your stuff. You were so cute in your maroon hoodie and leggings. You hummed to the lyrics he didn’t care about before he snuck up on you, grabbing you by the waist.

“Ah!” You screamed as he scared you, the ghost of the attic. “Oh shit Cho you scared me!”

He hummed with a soft chuckle before bearing his face in the side of your neck. For some unknown reason, he was able to touch and feel you. Making it so much easier to fall for you, even if you were a ghost. He inhaled deeply, pressing kisses along your neck before you leaned back into him, letting him lead you around the attic toward the couch.

“God, I miss you, " he whispered, holding you close. I missed you so much.”

You melted into him, for once feeling human. You hummed, wishing you could be more to him than he was to you. Alive and real. But to Choso, you were alive and very much real to him.

“Did you have a good morning?”

“Mhmm, I got the kids to school before I stopped at the bookstore and grabbed the newest book in your favorite series.”

You gasped, glancing at the bag he had brought in earlier. Choso honestly spoiled you in every way, shape, and form. “Oh my, you're the best!” you rolled so you were sitting on your knees, looking down at him. “What could I do to repay my big, buff, gothyfriend~.”

He smirked, flashing you his white teeth, “You want to thank me.” He grabbed you by the ass and pinning you underneath him on the couch “I think I know how you can.”

He hovered above you before slipping your leggings. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as he tossed them across the room. Every little thing the man did got you going; from the most gentle touches to the talking, you were constantly wet and willing for him. He yanked your panties down before settling between your legs, moaning as he pressed his nose against your curls. His hot breath and stubble tickled your thighs and pussy as he inhaled.

“God, I want you constantly,” His tongue darted out, licking ever so slightly at your folds, “you have no idea how down bad I am for you.” He breathed against your cut, pressing his tongue flat against you and sliding it up and down your pussy.

Choso licked and lapped at you till you were a withering and sweaty mess. He had complete and total control over your body, bringing you close to the edge of an orgasm before pulling back. He knew how to touch you. That tracing slow lazy circles over your clit drove you insane; how to quicken the pace and when to stop before you went over the edge.

‘Choso, please,” you pleaded, “I need you, fuck me, please.” it came out as a wordless moan, but you still managed to get the words out. He leaned back, licking the traces of your wet arousal off his slightly swollen lips, “Please.” you begged, reaching up and tugging at his shirt.

That was all the encouragement he needed as he stripped quickly, ridding himself of his clothes. He was bare naked now, sitting in front of you, his hands pulling away your bra and t-shirt, leaving you completely bare in front of him before Choso lined himself in front of you, his forehead against yours as the tip of his cock pressed against your opening.

‘I need you too, Honey-Bee.” He whispered as he pushed himself into your aching wet cunt, pushing himself in until he was balls deep inside of you. You both panted against one another's lips, taking in the feeling of becoming one with each other before Choso started moving against your much more relaxed body.

His thrusts were lazy, rhymed, and slow-paced. In and out of you, he was making sweet love to you. As his hips moved, Choso placed sweet-mouthed kisses against your lips and neck while he grunted and whispered your name against your cool skin. Your fingers scratched into his back while the heels of your feet dug into his ass, pulling him deeper inside of you and bringing you to the edge of a powerful orgasm; you whimpered, biting at his shoulder as he kept you on the edge, not quite ready to let you cum just yet.

“Choso, fuck baby.” His slow pace began increasing as he started grunting himself, all while trying to hold back, “fuck me right there, please.” you gasped out as the head of his cock brushed against your g-spot, “Choso, nnngh fuck baby.” he thrust deeper and harder against that sweet spot until you were clamping down on him cumming hard. “Choso.” You were about to start screaming his name to the heavens, but he silenced both of you by sealing your lips together as he followed you over the edge.

The warmth of his seed coated your walls as he grunted into the kiss, continuing to thrust, milking himself inside of you. All the while, you whimpered and moaned into his mouth as you pulsated and clamped down on him. The two of you worked each other through your orgasms before he collapsed on top of you, panting roughly.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” he whispered, holding you close ‘God, I do. You’re the best thing about this whole move, and I hope you know that.”

“And you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me while in life and death. I think I’m falling for you too, Choso.” You both lay there in silence, content and happy that he was in your attic, where you met the man of your dreams.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[rrrrinmaru]

call me by my name (xavier x mc)

wc: 2058 rating: T

It was just something you had seen online. Call your lover by their name instead of the pet name that had almost become second nature to you—the reactions from the boyfriends and husbands of Linkon City were always so amusing. The more you watch these videos, scrolling idly through your phone as you lounged on the sofa on one of your rare off days, the more you want to test it on Xavier. 

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You can barely remember when the last time you called Xavier by his name—somewhere along the lines, maybe a few months into dating, you accidentally called him baby. 

You remember how it happened, even if you can’t place the exact date. The both of you were strolling down the streets of Linkon City, on the way to one of the cafes another Hunter had recommended to you. You remember the weight of his hand on your waist, gently guiding you along as you focused on the navigation panel on your phone, trying to suss out what exit you had to take in order to take the shortest path there. 

“You okay there?” Xavier murmured, a smile audible in his voice as he pulled you out of the way of some passer-by. “You’re squinting at the phone.”

“No, I got it,” you told him, even as you continued to furrow your brows at the screen and attempt the tried and tested method of lifting it up to the sky to get better signal, as if that would help your case. “Just give me a second, I think we need to turn somewhere up ahead, just—” you spoke, without really thinking it through, the words tumbling out of your mouth while your higher brain functions were wholly focused on reading the damn map, “—give me a sec, baby, I got it. We turn left in a bit, like—”

The fingers on your waist flexed. You looked up at him, barely registering the dilation in his pupils and the way his lips were parted, but you remember noticing the dazed look in his eyes. 

“Xavier? You okay?” 

“Hm,” He hummed, blinking out of his daze. “I’m good. No need to worry about me, just let me know when to turn.” 

And then he smiled at you, so disarmingly that you almost missed your turn.

Regardless, after that incident, Xavier teased you about the pet name until you gave in and repeated it in a quiet, shameful voice. Again, and again, until Xavier hooked you in by his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you stupid. 

From that day on, you didn’t really call him by his name. Which is why the thought of switching it up excites you. It’s so enticing that you even get up to hunt for your old phone, setting it up in a discrete location near the living room to record his reaction. You won’t publish it, not when the both of you are such private individuals, but you look forward to saving his reaction for future reference, and maybe even future blackmail. 

You wait in anticipation, instinctively checking the clock every few minutes to count down to Xavier’s return. As time passes, you get distracted by the latest novel on your phone and you’ve almost forgotten about your grand plan until you hear the familiar sound of a key turning in your lock.

Immediately, you fly to your hidden phone to click record, and then rush back to the sofa. Your heart rate spikes a little from excitement, and you struggle to tamp down the smile that threatens to surface. 

The door pushes open, and you’re greeted by the gorgeous sight of Xavier stepping through your door, groceries in hand. 

Gods help me, you think, fondness bursting from your heart so vividly at the domestic sight that you think you might drown, I love you.

“The queue was long,” Xavier says, a touch of complaint in his voice. He closes the door behind him, slipping the keys into his pocket as he toes his shoes off. “There was a problem with the self-checkout machines, so everyone had to wait in line at the normal cashiers.”

The pet name almost slips off your tongue. It’s so easy to say it, when he’s acting a little whiny like this—when he gets in the mood to be just a little, tiny little bit like he wants to be babied. 

“Aw,” you say in a commiserating tone. “Do you want any help with putting those away?”

Xavier looks at the bag in his hand, then looks at the way you’re curled up on the couch. “No. Stay there; you look comfortable. I’ll come join you once I’ve placed them away.” 

He lifts the bag, peering in as if to check the contents again. “I’ll be quick, so make sure there’s space for me once I’m done.”

“Okay,” you reply, fighting the urge to smile when Xavier lifts his gaze to look inquisitively at you. Usually, there would be a pet name trailing on the end of that sentence. You think Xavier can tell something’s a little off, but he can’t place his finger on it quite yet. 

He wanders to your kitchen—the groceries he bought, sitting in your kitchen so the both of you can cook in your kitchen later, before he takes a shower in your bathroom and changes into his clothes that take up half of your wardrobe. 

Everytime you’re reminded of how much he’s carved out a space for himself in your life, his presence so steady and solid that you’re almost surprised when he isn’t in your house, as if you’ve forgotten the both of you aren’t cohabitating. Yet. 

Xavier hums to himself as he puts the groceries away. His voice is light, like stardust carrying on the wind as it trickles over to where you are on the sofa. You sit up, eyes bright as you peek over the back of the couch to see him bustling about in your kitchen. He opens cabinets to set things aside, so sure of where things are that it makes your heart kick in your chest.

To be known so dearly, so deeply—you don’t think anyone’s ever known you like this, so certainly that it feels like he’s always been a part of your mind rather than someone you met a few years ago. 

“Xav,” you call out, folding your arms on the back of the sofa and pressing your face into your forearms to hide your smile, “could you help me get a drink?”

Xavier pauses. His back is to you, shirt riding up slightly as he stretches up to place a sack of flour in the cabinet above your countertop. You see him slowly move to push the flour further in, the bend of his long fingers as he ensures there’s no chance of the flour falling out when you open the cabinet later. 

Once he’s done, he turns around to face you. There’s a blank look on his face as he leans back, hip against the countertop while he folds his arms across his chest. 

“Xav?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name, princess.”

You have to smother your smile or it’ll show on your face. Going from the way Xavier’s lips are curving up of their own accord, though, you don’t think you’re doing a very good job. “It’s your name, Xav. Xavier. Could you help get me a drink from the fridge?”

“Hm.” Xavier drags the sound out, rolling it on his tongue. He gives you a long, contemplative look. “No, princess,” he says mildly, looking faintly amused. “I can’t. I don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Xavier,” you repeat, tilting your head as you blink up at him. “A drink, please?”

He chuckles, Xavier moves in this slow, languid way as he unfurls his arms and walks over. His eyes are a little dark, lips upturned in a knowing smile as he makes his way to the sofa. There’s this look in his gaze, this knowing look that makes you feel transparent with how he sees right through you. As he nears you, you take your arms off the back of the couch and lean back.

You can’t help it. The way he looks at you is filled with such intent that it takes your breath away. Your heart thumps in your chest, like you’re nothing more than a prey animal confronted by its natural predator. A little bunny’s heart jackhammering away in your chest. 

And then he places the flat of his palms against the back of his couch, far apart enough that he can brace himself against it as he leans down, enough for the collar of his shirt to droop and for you to get a good look at the slant of his clavicle. He’s so close, leaning over you as you sit there on the couch, and you swear you can feel the puff of his breath against your lips.

You can’t focus on just one thing. The flutter of his eyelashes as he looks at you, the softness of his cheeks, the half-moon curve of his parted lips—and his eyes, as blue as the sky, glittering with a promise as he stares down at you.

“That’s not my name, princess,” Xavier breathes out. “You know what my name is in this household.”

In the back of your mind, you wonder what you look like right now. Your eyes must be dilated. Your mouth is open from shock, and your fingers are trembling from where they are clutched around the pillow in your lap. Your heart trips over itself, throbbing so violently that you feel lightheaded. 

If you leaned up, just a little, you would be able to press your lips against his. You know you could. The distance between your lips is almost negligible, so close you think you can feel the skate of his lips against yours. 

It’s a tease. You know he’s teasing you right now, the way you teased him, and you can’t help but fall headfirst into his trap. You walk right into it, eyes wide open and conscious as you let yourself get tied up, as you let yourself drown in that swallowing, all-encompassing gaze. 

“What is it?” Your eyes drop to his lips before crawling back up to meet his gaze. 

“I only answer to baby,” Xavier murmurs, mouth curving in a smile. “That’s what you call me, princess.”

You smile, eyes crinkling as you peer up at him. “Baby.”

Xavier lets out a low laugh that sends your insides tumbling. “That’s my girl,” he says, and leans down right as you reach up to press your lips together.

You sigh, eyes closing as you sink into the kiss, and he swallows the sound with relish. One hand reaches up to cup your jaw, pulling you in so he can fit his mouth to yours, tongue slipping between your lips. His thumb presses against your skin, gently stroking the underside of your jaw, and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt. 

“C’mere,” you say in between kisses, gasping for breath. “There’s space—here, on the couch.”

“Mmhmm.” Xavier glances down, eyeing the space between your legs, the obstructive cushion on your lap, and steadies one hand on the back of the couch. “A little tight, but we’ll make it fit.”

He lets his gaze wander back up to you, and gives you a knowing smile. “We always make it fit, don’t we, princess?”

You get the sense he isn’t really talking about the sofa, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as he vaults over the couch to settle between your thighs. The cushion is removed, flung away from the sofa with a vengeance you didn’t know Xavier possessed, and then he presses his weight down on you, one hand on your waist with the other curving around the back of your neck to hold you in place as he noses along your cheek, and you stop getting distracted by irrelevant things like where your cushion is, or whether he put away all the groceries that need to be refrigerated, at the very least. 

And an hour later, when you’re both out of breath, it occurs to you that your phone’s still recording. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[oncasette]

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

KINKTOBER ACT I, ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: 3.1k

“Your fucking muse? You ask. You shove the top photo directly in his face. It’s a picture of you in your underwear as seen through your bedroom window, hands in the process of unhooking your bra. 

“What can I say, baby. I told you I’d thought about this for a long time.”

or the one where ethan saves you from a creep after you lock yourself out of your dorm. or so you think.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, stalking, unprotected sex, dub-con, unsolicited pictures

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

Ethan hadn’t noticed you. At first. You’d had at least one class together every semester since freshman year, being in the same major and all, and yet it's taken him until now to take note of you. True, crude, unfiltered, awareness.

Sure, he’d known about you, the same way he knew about all the other girls on campus. He could match a face to a name and hold a casual conversation with you without feeling the need to ask the same three questions that always seem to be on the tip of everyone’s tongue. 

But now. Now, he knows you. He knows how you shift in your seat when you get called on to answer a question, despite the fact that you’d raised your hand in the first place, the lavender and mint of your shampoo that he could easily catch a whiff of if he leaned forward in his seat just ever so slightly, the way your skin prickles with goosebumps when you change into your pajamas after a shower–you should really learn to close your blinds, living on the second floor of your dorm complex and all. 

Your front door clicks shut before you think to check your pockets for your ID. 

“Shit,” you mumble as you jiggle the locked door handle. The only time you ever took it out of the pocket in your phone case was when you were trying to order something from the bookstore online and needed your student ID number, and, of course, you’d forgotten to stuff it back into the damn thing when you’d finished. 

“Locked out?” says a barely cognisant male voice from behind you. 

“Sorry?” you spit, spinning around in a huff in the wake of your disappointment. 

“Did you lock yourself out?” he asks again with a stifled laugh under his tone. You barely recognize the boy, only having stumbled past him once or twice in your haste to get back to your dorm to study. Figures that he’d end up being just across the hall from you. And much cuter up close. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you sputter, your immediate anger diffusing into slight annoyance. “Thought my ID was in my wallet, and as soon as I went to double check… you know.”

“Oh, yeah. Sucks when that happens,” he says. “‘S your roommate out?”

The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you have to remind yourself he’s just being polite. 

“She’s got class,” you swallow. He nods. You feel the need to elaborate. “O Chem.”

“You’ve got yourself a smarty pants on your hands, huh.” He steps closer and your breath hitches at the back of your throat. “Bet you’re smarter though.”

His mouth quirks as he boxes you in, back nearly pressed to the door of your room. “Oh, uh,” a dry chuckle. “I don’t know about that, she’s a pharmacy major and everything and all I do all day is learn about finances and the economy, so.”

Your neighbor had lost his sweet-boy charm in the few feet he’d breached, his jaw sharper and eyes darker in the fluorescence. 

“I’ve really gotta get going-”

“Without your key?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m meeting someone just downstairs and I can always just text my roommate to let me in later-” he cuts you off again. 

“I’m sure they can wait for a couple minutes,” he says. His aftershave burns your nostrils. 

“Look, I’m already running late-”

A voice you don’t recognize calls your name from down the hall. Your head snaps, alerted to the sound. Squinting your eyes, you try to identify your anonymous hero. 

“Hey,” the curly haired boy says as he approaches the two of you. “Are you ready to go yet? I tried texting when I got here, but I never got a response.”

“This is the friend you were waiting on?” the blond guy asks. He pulls his shoulders back, gaining back the inch he’d lost when he’d cornered you in. 

“Ethan,” the new boy sticks his hand out to shake the other guy’s hand, only to be met with a scoff as he shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Didn’t mention you were meeting up with your boyfriend,” he sneers. 

“First date,” you choke out with a dry throat, hoping that the notion of another guy in the picture would get him to leave you alone, and hating the fact that it was probably going to work. Ethan slides closer to you and you can feel your hands start to shake as the guy shakes his head in disappointment. 

“Whatever, man,” he says. He turns and scans into his room, leaving you to exhale a breath you’d been holding in tight. 

“He was interesting,” Ethan says, curls bouncing as spins to face you. 

Humming, you draw your lips together in a tight line. You watch as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as you thumb the wallet on the back of your phone case, subconsciously counting the cards there only to remember why you’d been stuck out in the hall in the first place. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks. 

“Well,” you start. “I was gonna go get some dinner, but with my ID being held hostage in my room…”

Ethan clears his throat before saying, “I, uh- I live on the next floor up if you wanted to hang out in my room until your roommate gets back.”

You’d think after the last guy had tried getting you into his place. 

“Yeah, you know what, sure. That’d be nice,” you shrug, offering him a tight lipped smile before he led you toward the open spiral stairwell in the complex that led to all of the floors. As the two of you make your short journey up the flight of stairs, Ethan can’t help but to ramble on about how he’d stumbled upon your predicament for the four minutes it takes to climb the stairs. 

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, swear to god, but he was just being so creepy, you know. I could hear him growling from the stairs,” he says once you reach the third floor. 

“No, I’m totally glad you were eavesdropping,” you laugh. Ethan holds his phone up to the door, unlocking it with the ID shoved into his wallet before holding it open for you to enter before him. 

“Chad’s at the Pike party right now, so make yourself comfortable wherever,” he says as he shrugs his zip-up off to toss over his desk chair leaving him in a black t-shirt hugging his biceps in a way that has you swallowing saliva. 

“Chad?” you ask. 

“My roommate.”

“Ah,” you hum, settling yourself in the middle of the room before Ethan pipes up again. 

“The left bed’s mine if you want to sit,” he offers. “Do you want something to drink?”

He’s got a plaid bedspread and probably navy sheets, but you climb up to sit on it nonetheless. 

“Sure, what you got?”

He lists off the few sodas they have, the case of Busch, and the single already opened bottle of water that’d been in there since they’d moved in. 

“I’ve got a case of seltzer in the fridge under my bed, too, if you want that,” he winces at his options. 

It’s a Friday night, what have you got to lose. “I’ll take a seltzer.” 

You try to ignore the way the hair on the back of your neck stands up as he moves closer, kneeling beside the bed to dig in the mini fridge stashed there. He comes back up with two cans in hand, extending one out for you to take from him. The can seems to condensate in the heat of your hand as soon as you grab it. 

Before you have a chance to pop the tab, Ethan climbs in beside you leaving a little less than a foot of distance between the two of you despite his twin being an XL. His knee bends until it knocks against yours with a soft sorry mumbled out but no attempt to move it. He opens his drink and haphazardly taps the top of it against your own unopened can with a, “Cheers.”

 “To?”

“Not being around that creep anymore?” he offers. 

Nodding, you open the can and tap it back against his, “Fucking cheers.”

Taking a sip, you wince. Your body had not been prepared for alcohol, and whatever seltzer he had sure tasted like a hell of a lot of it. It’s quiet for a while, the start of various questions and conversations settling on the tip of your tongue as try to quell the awkward silence that’s overtaken you. Ethan’s familiar in a way you’re not entirely sure how to grasp. Something about his presence has the back of your brain buzzing. When the can in your hand is nearly empty, you manage to get words out of your mouth. 

“Thanks for the help and everything, and really I mean, thank you, but how the fuck do you know me?” you finally settle on. “I mean you knew my name before you even came over and I just… you know?”

“We have stats together,” he says, stuttering and quirking the end of the statement into more a question than a declaration. Your brain seems to stutter for a second, trying and failing to place him. Until. 

“Right! Right, oh my god! You’re the cute guy that sits behind me,” you say seconds before slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Cute?” he asks.

“Unfortunately, very.”

“What’s so unfortunate about my cuteness?” His eyes grow hazier, more lidded. He shifts closer forcing your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. Tipping back the last of your drink, you crush the can out of habit and set it onto his nightstand. The already small counter space is cluttered with various trinkets and electronics before you can find a space to set your drink down. The polaroid camera catches your eye. 

“You have a polaroid?” you ask, leaning over further to snatch it off the edge and hold it up to your eye. He offers you a short hum in response. “What do you take pictures of?”

“I’ve got a specific muse,” he replies. 

“Care to share?” you ask as you lower the camera from your face only to find him much closer than you expected him to be. Closer than he had been just a moment ago, close enough to smell the cologne stuck to his shirt and see the faded pink of a scar against his jaw. He shakes his head slowly as he removes the camera from your limp fingers and places it back on the nightstand, tossing his own empty can onto the floor beside the bed. The way he leans forward has you leaning back. He leads you to drop your head back onto his pillow and your legs shift until you’re entirely situated beneath him. There’s still space between you, a couple inches at best, as his hands find solace beside your shoulders. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers and you feel your face heat up in response. 

“Thank you,” you reply, tongue dry. What was in the air tonight? You’d just been relieved from one guy trying to drag you into his bed only to be pushed into another. Still, with the way your heart was racing, you weren’t sure this situation was entirely the same. 

“You’re welcome,” he sighs. You can feel the way his hand twitches and flexes at your side. 

You’re not sure who makes the first move after that. One moment you’re laying there, noses nearly touching as his breath fans over your face, and the next his lips are on yours and his tongue is in your mouth. The hand that had been fluttering at your side now pressed hard into your waist, thumb pushing up the fabric of your top until it met bare skin. 

His name is hazy in your head. You barely conjure it up, having to filter through a couple variations of Edward and Eric and Elliot before you manage out a weak gasp of, “Ethan” against his lips. 

His hand continues to push up until your shirt has been bunched up at your chest. He pulled back just enough to be able to look at his handiwork. Your heaved as the edges of his fingers worked up under the wire of your bra. The chill of his hand left goosebumps in its wake. 

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion as he lifts you just enough to get your shirt up over your head and to unclasp the back of your bra, leaving you bare beneath him. Not for long, though, as he sits up fully and reaches up to tug his own shirt over his head seconds after he’s got yours tossed down to the floor. 

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he groans, palms flat against your ribs. 

“You think about me?” you ask, head quirked to the side as you try not to trace his abs with your tongue. Who knew the cute nerd in your stats class had all of this going on for him. 

“All the fucking time,” he says. It’s a comment that should have you running for the hills, logically, coming from a guy you barely know. A guy you don’t know. But he’s already got you half-dressed and in his bed and you can’t bring yourself to pull away. 

You hook your fingers into the hem of his sweats only for him to cover them with his own as you tug them down his legs. You do your best not to gape at the size of him. God, you think, is there any part of him you don’t want to lick? It takes him a second of shuffling and kicking, but as soon as his pants hit the floor his hands are back on you. 

“Condom?” you gasp. His right hand trails down your chest, your stomach, and you think he’s going to stop at the band of your leggings, but it keeps going until you can feel him cupping against your clothed pussy. He nods absentmindedly. Your hips jump as soon as his thumb presses into your clit. Even with the dull pressure, it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. 

“Condom, Ethan, please,” you whine. 

“Fuck,” he says as he pulls himself from his daze. “You don’t want me to…” 

“No, please,” you whimper. “Want you.”

He throws open the drawer in his nightstand, leaving the contents open as he grabs an unopened box. The box tears–practically in half–and the three rolls land on your stomach. 

“Do you want me to get that for you?” you ask with a giggle. 

“No, fuck, no. I got it,” he grumbles, tearing a single condom off and pushing the rest onto the pile of clothes you’d conjured together. 

“You sure?” His hands are shaking as he finally rips open the package, but they seem to steady once he’s got it rolled down onto his cock. 

As soon as he’s got it on, though, he’s ripping your leggings down your legs. His thumb finds your clit again, barely ghosting over it in slow, tight circles as his free hand lines his dick up with your slit. 

“Christ, you’re tight,” he groans, just barely notching the head. He pushes in slowly, jaw clenched, head dropped against your shoulder until he’s bottomed out. You nearly sob when you feel his pelvis press against yours. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this full in your life. You’re a little surprised he hadn’t ripped you in half, if you’re being honest with yourself. 

He bites down on your shoulder as you feel his hips begin to pull back. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby, fuck,” he says. Where his thumb had stalled movement–not that you’d been able to really notice–it picks back up again, harder this time. Your eyes roll back in your head as Ethan’s mumblings pick up. So pretty, so perfect, better than I had imagined. 

He’s already pulsing inside of you, twitching against your walls as he begins to pick up speed. His teeth nip at the sides of your neck, likely leaving marks you’ll have a hell of a time explaining to your roommate later, and his tongue laves at your pulse point. 

Heat begins to build in your belly. It’s faster than you expected, a symptom of the alcohol, you think. 

“Ethan,” you whimper. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, eyes screwed tight as his pace begins to stutter. 

“I’m so close.”

“Already? ‘Ve just started with you,” he sighs as if he wasn’t about to break skin on your neck. 

“Please, please, I’m so close,” you beg. 

“Oh, god,” he seethes. “I’m gonna cum.”

You bring a hand up to brush his curls away from his forehead and a bead of sweat drips down the side of his face. 

“I want you to cum first,” he says. “Before I- before I do.”

With the way he’s working, you don’t think you’ve got much of a choice. Nodding, you bring your hand down to rest at the back of his neck, tugging his face down so that your lips met. You don’t even have time to warn him before you’re clamping down on him, pussy fluttering as your orgasm washes over you and leaves you hazy. Ethan’s hips stall at one final push in and you can feel the heat of his cum through the latex. 

He pulls back, pressing one brief final peck to your lips before he leans back enough to remove his softening cock from you, the both of you wincing as he does so. He mumbles a soft, “I know” as he goes, rolling the condom off and tying the end to toss it in the trashcan beside the nightstand. 

With an elongated sigh, he drops himself onto the bed beside you leaving you to shiver in the new chill hitting your bare skin.

You’re not even trying to snoop as you look around at his nightstand, eyes naturally gliding over the still open drawer of junk when the stack of pictures shoved in the corner catch your eye. It takes a second to really see what it is as the polaroids are covered in a thick translucent goop, but you can’t help but pick them up when it clicks in your brain. 

“What the fuck are these?” you gasp, holding them up enough for Ethan to look at them. 

“What?” he asks, still loopy from his orgasm. 

“Your fucking muse? You ask. You shove the top photo directly in his face. It’s a picture of you in your underwear as seen through your bedroom window, hands in the process of unhooking your bra. 

“What can I say, baby. I told you I’d thought about this for a long time.”

[aestheticaltcow]

Would you still love me if I was a worm?

I put up a poll like two months ago about which WIP y'all wanted first and this was the winner by a landslide.

This may also be one of the sadder things I wrote. Part 1 MDNI 18+

Carmy Berzatto x Reader

The Bear Masterlist

Carmy got home late that night, later than he’d like, especially knowing he’d only be home for a few hours before returning to The Bear. He kicked his shoes off and shed his backpack and jacket before locking his apartment door. He wandered into the kitchen to see a plate covered in plastic wrap. He looked at it for a second before removing it from the fridge to see a fluorescent sticky note with your loopy handwriting on it, ‘another attempt :)’  he chuckled and removed the plastic wrap and placed the plate in the microwave before pulling his phone out of his pocket to see you’d texted him hours ago. 

‘I found another polenta recipe online!’ 

‘Imma bring a plate over for you, baby :)’ 

‘Miss you!!’

Carmy smiled and quickly texted you back. He was surprised to hear a text notification coming from his bedroom. He put his phone on the counter before lazily pushing a hand through his hair. He walked through the living room to his bedroom. You were in his bed, asleep and drooling slightly. He chuckled and quietly approached the edge of the bed. 

He pushed a fallen lock of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before kissing your forehead, “Thanks for dinner, baby…” he whispered before walking back out to the living room. 

~

You stirred in bed when you felt the weight of the mattress shift. You shifted in your sleep and sighed softly, “Carmy?” you asked sleepily.  “Hi, baby,” Carmy whispered in your ear as he pulled you flush against his body, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. He kissed your shoulder, “Good day?” you asked as you brought a hand to the back of his head to lace your fingers in his unruly greasy curls. Carmy grumbled in response and kissed your neck softly, “That bad?” you giggled.

“Just missed you,” Carmy mumbled before softly biting down where he’d been previously kissed. “I just need you- all fuckin’ day.” His hips subtly pressed against your ass, causing you to gasp at the sensation softly. “I need you, baby.” Carmy whispered, “Can I have you?”

You didn’t answer the question. Instead, you wiggled in his grip, trying to rotate yourself in his arms to face him. Carmy’s grip tightened, “No, just like this baby. I want you just like this…” he cooed as his hands began exploring your body through the oversized t-shirt you’d worn to bed. You felt yourself melt against his chest as he began to manhandle your breasts over the shirt. As Carmy rolled your nipples between his index and middle fingers, a needy moan escaped your lips; you needed him as much as he needed you. 

Cooking had been Carmy’s passion for as long as he could remember. It was a way for him to express his creativity, intelligence, and love; he also despised it. Nothing was good enough. No matter how creative he tried to be or how hard he tried, it was never good enough. Taking over The Beef after Mikey passed and turning it into The Bear should have been a dream come true. The dream had turned into a nightmare, a constant stressor in his life because he wasn’t enough. Then you came into his life.

You’d sat next to him on the L one morning while he was doodling in his notebook. You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t help but look at what he’d been drawing. When you complimented the drawing, Carmy looked up at you and felt the oxygen leave his lungs. He didn’t think that whole ‘love at first sight’ troupe had validity, but the moment his gaze met yours, he couldn’t imagine his life without you. 

Carmy’s life changed when you entered it. He’d dedicated his every waking moment to ensuring the success of The Bear. He’d given up on so many aspects of his life, but a light bulb went off that morning on the L. You’d gotten off before he could work up the courage to say anything, but he knew he had to find you again. 

Every morning, he’d board the train and scan the car for you. Weeks had gone by, and he was ready to give up on ever finding you again- then you were there. You sat there bundled up in some stylish black coat and a bright jade scarf, scrolling on your phone. Carmy swallowed his nerves and sat next to you despite the multiple free seats around the section. “Hey.” he greeted. You looked up, removing the headphones from your ears. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw your mystery man. 

You had your face pressed into Carmy’s pillows as he thrust into you at a painstakingly slow pace as his calloused fingers rubbed tight circles against your clit. “So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” Carmy whined lowly as he pulled his hand away from your clit. He brought both of his hands to your hips and started thrusting faster. Your moans became more ragged as you arched your back, desperate to feel him hit that one spot.

“Fuck Carmy!” you whimpered as you felt yourself coming undone. He had a similar sentiment as he bent over to kiss your shoulder.

“Just like that baby… cream on my cock, baby,” he growled into your ear.

~

The following day, Carmy woke up to an empty bed with a bright pink sticky note on his bedframe. 

“You’re too cute to wake up sometimes <3 

I have meetings all day. See you soon, baby.”

You and your sticky notes. Carmy chuckled as he got out of bed and quickly prepared himself for work. It would be another long day at the restaurant, and he hoped you’d be back in his bed tonight when he got home. 

Carmy walked into the kitchen that morning to hear Richie and Syd arguing about nonsense. Ebra struggled to pile rolls by the sandwich prep station, and Marcus was tweezing tiny flowers onto some cream puff dessert he’d been working on the past few days. Carmy felt his shoulders tighten as the frustration of running a restaurant settled in. 

Something felt off as your day went on, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Y/N. You’re goin’ to Houston.” your boss announced as he entered your office with a manilla envelope in one hand and a stupid grin on his face. You laughed and shot him a confused look, “Okay, hear me out, Y/N. You’re one of my best and brightest editors, and I know you can show these newbies how to run a tight ship.” he explained further as he stepped closer to your desk to drop the envelope on your desk. “The details are in there. The company is excited to see how much more you can grow in this position.” 

You thanked him as he walked out of your office. You leaned back in your desk chair and opened the envelope. Six weeks in Huston meant six weeks without Carmy would be hell, but looking at the itinerary your manager wrote, this would boost your career. It didn’t mean you’d have to like it, though.

~

Carmy sat on his couch that night and blankly stared at the TV. He’d put on some Danish cooking show as background noise while he waited for you to call him. He was growing impatient as the minutes ticked by; you had to be off work by now. Carmy put his head back on the couch and stared up at the off-white, almost grey stain on his ceiling. He always wondered what had happened, but the landlord claimed not to know. 

When his phone rang, Carmy jumped at the sound and grabbed his phone from the coffee table. “Hey baby.” he greeted, “Okay… didn’t expect that one Cousin.” Carmy rolled his eyes as Richie’s voice came through his phone speaker. “What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Dam. You talk to your girl like this? I don’t get how you pulled-” 

“Richie. What?” Carmy asked, cutting Richie off mid-riff. “Tyler called out- his wife is havin’ the baby. Need you to come in.” Richie hesitated to call Carmy in; he knew this was his first night off in almost a month. Carmy clicked his tongue before responding, “Okay.” he huffed and hung up his phone. He tossed it on the couch before getting up and walking toward his bedroom to quickly change into a pair of black Dickies and a white t-shirt. As he pushed his feet into a pair of sneakers, he heard his doorbell ring. “I swear to God…” he muttered as he pulled his jacket on before grabbing his backpack and leaving his room.

“Hey, ba—oh. I thought you were off tonight.” You cut yourself off when you noticed Carmy was in his work clothes. 

Carmy frowned, noticing the disappointment in your voice. “Tyler called out last minute.” he clarified as he caught your face falling further into disappointment. He was going to kill Richie when he saw him. “I’m sorry, princess.” 

You sighed, “It’s okay. I shoulda called, but I was packing.”

Your comment was met with a confused look from Carmy, “You goin’ somewhere?” he asked.

You nodded, “I’m going to Huston for like a month to help set up a new office.”

Carmy frowned at your reply; on one hand, he was proud of you for the work you’d been doing, but on the other, a month was a long time. “Oh shit.”

You laughed at his reaction, “I had the same reaction.” Carmy chuckled as he exited his apartment and threw an arm around your shoulders. 

“When do you leave?” he asked as the two of you walked down the hall toward the elevator of his building. 

“Tomorrow afternoon,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I know it’s not a lot of warning, but I guess I can walk you to your car or something as a final in-person date until I return.” 

“You better.” Carmy teased

“I’ll also FaceTime you as much as possible while I’m gone.”

“You better.” Carmy teased again, making you laugh. “I’m gonna miss you.”

~

Carmy had been grumpy since you left. While the two of you called or Facetimed at least every other night and exchanged some Spicer messages and pictures throughout the weeks, it wasn’t the same. Neither of you were sleeping well, and the frustration of seeing you but not being able to touch you was getting to him. 

And it was everybody’s problem.

“When the fuck is she comin’ back?” Richie scoffed at Natalie that night at The Bear. Carmy was getting into it with the new line cook, and Richie needed a break from him. 

“Just a couple more days.” Natalie laughed without looking up from her computer. “He’ll be back to his usual level of chaos soon enough.” 

“A couple more days? I don’t know Sugar. I might throw that kid through a damn wall. Fuck head is getting on my last goddamn nerve.” Richie huffed as he sat across from her. Natalie laughed and shot him a look that validated his growing frustration. She knew Carmy better than anyone else and understood the annoyance he’d been putting the staff through. “Kid needs to get laid…” Richie muttered before excusing himself back to the kitchen. 

~

Carmy anxiously looked around the airport that morning. A month away from each other proved more difficult than either of you had anticipated. As you rode the escalator down to the main entrance where Carmy had been waiting, you couldn’t help but smile. “Carmy!” you squealed as you ran up to him, forgetting about your suitcase at the base of the escalator. Your excitement had caught him off guard, but when he’d realized it was you calling for him, he perked up. 

“Hey,” he greeted as he pulled you into a tight hug, “Holy shit, I missed you,” he said with an exacerbated sigh. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I literally have so much to tell you about! I missed you so much, Carm!” you rattled off as you tried to drag him out of the airport. Carmy laughed and nudged his head to the bottom of the escalator where your suitcase sat. The two of you retrieved your bag and headed out of the airport toward his car. As the two of you walked through the parking lot, you rattled off about the work you’d done over the past weeks and told him about some places you’d gone to eat. Carmy smiled the entire time. None of it was new information. With the amount the two of you had been texting and calling, it was like he’d been down in Houston with you, but he listened to everything you had to say.

You led Carmy up to your apartment while you continued rattling off details of your trip. He stood back, watched you unlock the door to your place, and followed you as you walked in. He placed your suitcase by the door and watched as you went over to the neatly stacked pile of mail your mom must have brought in while she watered your plants.

“Wanna watch a movie and order food?” you asked as you put your mail back on the counter before returning your full attention to Carmy. 

He nodded and leaned against the counter, “Whatever you want, baby.”

~

Your room was filled with your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping skin. Carmy had one of your legs hiked over his shoulder as he slowly pounded his against yours. “Fuckk- right there.” you gasped as Carmy’s thumb rubbed tight circles against your clit. He grunted as he leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. You moaned into his mouth as you felt the ever-familiar knot tightening in your stomach you’d missed while you were on your trip.

Carmy let your leg fall from his shoulder and his hand to your cheek. He rested his forehead against yours as his thrusts slowed to a painstakingly slow pace. You moaned softly and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots as his chain tickled your chin. “Carmy.” you winced.

“So fuckin’ perfect baby… fuckin’ made for me…” Carmy groaned as he relished in the feeling of your pussy gripping around him. “I love you, Y/N.” the words left Carmy’s mouth without a second thought, and when he realized what he said, it was too late. You looked at him with wide eyes and let your hands drop to his shoulders.

“W-what did you say?” 

“I love you…” Carmy softly trailed off, hoping he didn’t ruin what the two of you had built over the past eight months. 

“I-I- Fuck, I love you too, Carmy.”

~

“Can you test me again? There’s no way.” you were bewildered when your doctor read your chart. 

“We can, but blood tests are over 99% accurate,” he said as he wrote something down on your chart. You stared at him in disbelief. You couldn’t be pregnant. “With the pregnancy, I can’t give you a refill of your Paxil, but we can try a different anti-depressant. The safest option is going to be Zoloft. I can also set you up with an appointment to see Dr. Parks; she’s an OB who is taking new patients. Here is your prescription and a pamphlet that explains your options… Congratulations.” he grinned and handed you multiple pamphlets and your new prescription. 

You nodded, not knowing how to react. You’d only been back in Chicago for a couple of weeks; there was no way you’d gotten pregnant. You had a period while you were in Houston; it was light, but it was there. You quickly shoved the papers into your bag and exited the doctor's office. This couldn’t be happening right now.

You’d been avoiding Carmy for about a week when he’d come knocking on your door. Telling your boyfriend of eight months, you were pregnant… you still couldn’t wrap your head around it- how would Carmy react? You swallowed and reluctantly opened the door, crossing your arms over your stomach.

“Break your phone?” Carmy chuckled as he stood in your doorway. 

“Sorry, work has been crazy… Can you come in? We need to talk about something…” 

Carmy’s face fell at the mention of needing to talk about something; this was the moment. You were going to break up with him. Why else would you avoid his calls and say you couldn’t come over? You were going to leave him like everyone else did. Carmy nodded silently and walked into your apartment. 

“You’re breaking up with me?” Carmy asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. You sighed and closed the door. You took a deep breath as you finally looked at Carmy. Unsure of what to say, you shook your head. “Then what is it, baby?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, Carmy.”

“Holy shit.”

Carmy stood there in stunned silence. He brought a hand to his jaw and looked at you.

“I don’t want to keep it.”

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 14)

{tw for coercion}

Even several days after Cillian had transferred the money into your account, you were still trying to process the fact that your brother's tuition was paid in full. You cried and ran through its every iteration, weeping, sobbing, moping around, because while you were grateful, you knew that you'd never be able to repay Cillian for this grand act of kindness. When you decided you were finally able to see him without bursting into tears, you figured the least you could do to show your appreciation was purchase him something from his favorite cafe.

You didn't want to ruin the surprise, so you scrolled through your contacts until you found someone you hadn't talked with since graduating secondary school. Cillian's mother quickly responded, sending you their address. Inputting it into an online map, you were pleasantly surprised to discover that he lived within walking distance. The true shock came when you finally arrived at his house.

You only recalled that stout, faded brick building on the same street as yours. You hadn't visited Cillian after he moved households, and now, as you stared at the grand structure, felt a pang of envy and rage, the latter at how he'd kept his luxurious lifestyle hidden. Suddenly, you felt insecure about offering a measly cake in thanks.

Nevertheless, you steeled your nerves and approached, not minding how an elderly neighbor eyed you with suspicion. Before knocking on the door, you pressed your collar down and smoothed your skirt. Your palms felt sweaty as you grabbed the knocker and released it, allowing it to pummel the door. Almost as if they'd been waiting, someone instantly opened it. She had the same set of eyes and shaped lips. She didn't quite have the same jaw or the same nose, but otherwise, she was the spitting image of Cillian.

"Y/N!" She pulled you into an embrace, quickly pulling away to tuck flyaway strands behind your ears. "It's so nice to see you again! Cillian's been looking forward to your visit all day."

You blinked, certain you'd told her your visit was intended as a surprise. "Thanks? Are you alright?"

Nodding, she seized your shoulders and ushered you inside, using a tender force to push you through the hallway and into the living room. In her haste, she jostled you around. The cake you'd packed to snack on jostled around in your arms. You stumbled into the foyer, gawking as she slammed the door shut.

Left alone, you traced each crystal hanging from the chandelier on the ceiling, the expensive decor. You hadn't been to Cillian's house since his family 'made it,' and now, you understood why. Cillian must've known that, instead of feeling comfort or recalling a fond memory from your childhood, you'd only feel like you didn't belong.

Another voice stirred the silence, somewhat warming you.

"What are you doing here?"

"Lee," you started, relieved at the sight of him. "Hey! I thought you would like this." You lifted the take-out bag to display the contents, but he tilted his head. "Got it from that cafe you love." 

"Why did you come here?" he bluntly asked.

Smile faltering, you stumbled over your words. "Do I need a reason?"

"Not at all," he breezily said. "It’s just… Nothing. Never mind. I'm happy you're here." Cillian stepped forward, and in the light you could see how his hair wasn't yet dried, causing his green locks to appear darker than they should be. "What happened?"

You half-heartedly smiled at him. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. Even when he was dressed casually, with a simple black shirt and sweatpants, he eluded beauty and grace. You would have barely recognized that those were his home clothes. 

"I just brought you a cake to say thanks," you dryly said. "You still fine with me staying? Or should I leave?"

"Why would you leave?" Cillian marched towards you, seizing the bag. Then, setting it aside on the couch, he swept you into his arms. "I'd have to be insane to pass up time with my girl."

Shrieking, you laugh and beg him to put you down. When had he gotten so strong? He lifts you as if you're nothing, going against your wishes and spinning around, causing you to feel vertigo.

What had caused his spontaneous nature today? Usually, Cillian was stiff-faced and severe, dutifully maintaining his image. You didn't know, but you were pleasantly surprised by this hidden playful side. And of course, by how strong he was. Thrown over his shoulder, you felt some muscles you hadn't noticed before. You felt him moving, propelling you to some unknown destination, trailing down a long hall lined with dark oak tiles.

He tossed you onto his bed. Silky sheets billowed around you, temporarily engulfing the world. When they fell back against the mattress, you were startled to find Cillian kneeling over you, arms caging you in on either side.

"Hi," you stuttered, startled by his handsomeness at such proximity.

"Hi," he responded.

You counted the moments with each thud of your heart against your ribcage. One, two, three anxious flutters, then his lips were on yours, ravenous as he siphoned the breath from your lungs. Mind on overdrive, you tried returning his zeal, grabbing his collar for leverage. Your body tingled, but you ignored the strange pit forming in your stomach. Cillian's desires weren't odd. Neither was him acting on them. He was your boyfriend. You were going to have to get used to this sooner or later.

That was what you told yourself, but when his hand crept from your waist to the waistband of your jeans, you felt a sudden jolt of panic and seized his wrist, sheepishly grinning. When he looked up, his eyes lacked their usual sheen. Gulping, you quickly tried to set things straight. It wasn't that you didn't want him, too. Only...

"You don't think it's too soon?" You whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. "I mean… We barely started dating. I don't know if—"

He answered your question with one of his own, sharply and slightly defensive. Huffing, "You trust me, don’t you?"

"Of course," you instantly confirmed, feeling your heart stutter.

"So just trust the timing," he replied, toying with the hem of your shirt. "It'd make me happy if you’ll just be good. I want us to enjoy each other."

The bedroom, dimly lit by the soft glow of a single bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with an electric charge as he guided you into his embrace. His lips crushed down on yours, devouring your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue dominated yours, stilling your breath as he explored your mouth. Meanwhile, his hands roamed beneath your shirt, thumbs encircling your nipples.

"Please," you panted, head falling back to reveal more of your neck, abandoning any vestiges of shame. Your hands slipped into his hair, holding him against you. "Touch me."

He murmured in agreement, his breath hot against your skin and he undressed you painfully slow, pausing between articles to press open-mouthed kisses to the newly barred flesh. The soft rustle of fabric and the sound of your breath hitched in your throat filled the room as Cillian finally stripped you bare, save for your underwear. The glasses, he let you keep, too. He wanted you to see him.

"Do you want me to show you what to do?" He asked, his voice low and smooth. "Or do you want me to make you feel good first?"

Yuqing hesitated, her glasses slipping down her nose as she nervously met his gaze. That need to please him, to maintain the love she cherished, gnawed at her. But there was another truth, one she couldn't keep hidden any longer.

"I—I should tell you," you stammered, your eyes darting around the room, seeking something else to help anchor you to the moment. "You're not... you're not the first person I've been with. The first time wasn't that great, but I trust—"

The tension in the room tightened like a coiled snake as Cillian's expression faltered. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with an emotion that seemed to swim between hurt and anger. A silent storm raged behind his eyes as he processed her words, his initial shock quickly turning into a seething jealousy. The air in the room thickened, charged with tension as if a thunderstorm loomed overhead.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

"I've been with someone else before," you sheepishly admitted, quivering under the intensity of his stare.

"Is that so?" His face contorted with possessiveness. "Then let me try something first to see how he ruined you."

Sharply inhaling, you decided to take the plunge. Nodding, you stared at the ceiling, releasing an anxious huff when Cillian's pried your knees apart. Smoothly, he positioned himself between your legs. He tilted his head, nipping at her inner thigh. You felt a gust of warm breath and shivered as his teeth grazed your tender skin. Desperate for him, your hands threading through his hair, guiding him where you wanted him most. But Cillian was in control, and he resisted your attempt to direct him.

"Cillian," you choked out, voice wavering. "I've never done this. It feels weird."

"You'll be fine," he murmured. Hooking his fingers around the side of your panties, he tugged them off your hips, discarding the pair onto his bedside table. "I need to make sure your pretty little pussy is ready to take me."

His kisses trailed higher, over your hips, then back down the insides of your thighs. You whimpered at the lack of attention, and Cillian's eyes locked with yours, a devilish glint in his gaze. Finally, without warning, he lowered his head, his tongue flicking over your clit. You threaded your fingers through the sheets as he sucked and licked, an arm resting across your hips to keep you where he wanted, while the fingers on his other hand spread you open, allowing him to delve deeper.

Cillian whimpered and groaned, mindlessly muttering praise as he devoured you. Your hips bucked, grinding against his face, desperate to feel more, but Cillian took his time, exploring your hole with his tongue before pulling away with a raunchy smack. Lips glistening, he greeted you with a smile. You frowned, displeased at the lack of attention, but he didn't seem keen to allow that expression to remain for long.

"Ready, baby?"

Breathless, you began, "Ready for—"

His head dropped back between your legs. His mouth reattached to your clit. Groaning against you, Cillian inserted a finger into your tight hole, slowly easing you open, scissoring and curling agonizingly slow while he continued to suck and lick your clit, not even stopping while your legs began to quiver around his head. If anything, your reactions spurred his frenzy. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending you higher. He added a second finger, stretching her further, his tongue never ceasing its magic.

Cillian continued pounding his fingers into you, scissoring and curling until you released a moan, announcing that he'd found that spot that had you seeing stars with every thrust. Your mind was lost, your body convulsing as your release flowed over his fingers and mouth.

"That’s it, love," Cillian praised, his fingers never ceasing their motion, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. Grabbing your legs, Cillian tugged you back down so you were facing him. Momentarily, you were face to face with his wide smile. The sight of the lower half of his face glistening with your slickness caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over you. "Silly girl. I'm not done with you just yet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, your eyes widening as you felt his hard member pressing against your thigh.

"Need to feel that sweet cunt around my cock," Cillian said, positioning himself at your entrance. Teasingly, he rubbed the tip against the hole.

"Lee," you moaned. "Too sensitive. Let me suck you for now."

Too focused on your studies, you hadn't been with someone in such a long time. All of the attention he was giving you was overwhelming, touching you so eagerly, and in ways you'd never before experienced.

Instead of jumping at the offer, Cillian glared. "Did he teach you how to do that?" he demanded.

Meekly, you shook your head. "Wanna make you feel good, too."

Expression returning to his signature smile, he pressed his lips against yours. You tasted the remnants of yourself on him, saw yourself reflecting in his love-struck eyes. You'd never felt so desired. So wanted. He was desperate to have you, and you were ready to give and do anything for him in return.

"We can get to that later," he said. "For now, you'll take what I give you. Need to make you forget anyone else."

In your dazed state, it took you a moment to realize who he was talking about. When you realized, you flinched, a blush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. Cillian noticed your expression, and his nails pressed into the plump flesh of your thighs.

You whined, hips futilely rising to meet his. "Keep going, Lee. Please. Need you so bad."

You hoped your pleas would spur his hips into motion, but he continued, slopping thrusting into you. The lack of friction was driving you insane. Biting your lip, you permitted his teasing ministrations. Whatever jealous streak Cillian was going through, you'd just have to permit.

"But I need to know," he insisted, suddenly picking up the pace. He punctuated each word with a sharp snap of his hips, pounding into you. "I need to know everything he did to this so I can do it better and make you forget him completely."

"His name was…" you began, the words catching in your throat as he dragged his thick cock against your walls, slamming into a spot that had you seeing stars. "Cillian!" You cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. You relented your grip on the sheets in favor of digging your nails into his skins

"Good girl, marking me up." Cillian's jaw clenched, but his hips continued moving at their languid pace, almost as if he were torturing you. "You're driving me crazy. So good for me." Save for his soft grunts and your moans, the only sounds filling the room was your sweat-slick skin against his as he picked up the pace, growing more frantic and rough as he chased his release. His voice grew less coherent with every thrust. "Gonna be my perfect girl and let me finish inside?" He pleaded, mouth falling to the crook of your neck, teeth sinking in. "Please, love. Wanna see my pretty doll stuffed with my cum. Wanna see it dripping out of you."

 Feeling a coil in your stomach, you squirmed, but he kept you pinned beneath him with a bruising hold, keeping you flush against him as thick, warm ropes of cum flooded your pussy. Vision blurred and mind suddenly clearer than ever, you lay there, staring at the clock against the wall as the room swam in and out of focus. Your body was a confusing mix of sensations, sore, yet strangely satisfied. With the sun dipping on the horizon, pale sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows.

You tried to move, but Cillian merely whined and pulled out, watching his cum spill out. He tried to scoop some up and prod your hole, but you hissed in protest, sharing your exhaustion. Almost mournfully, he relented: he had left no part of you untouched and still seemed keen to explore some more. Even then, he held fast to you, fingers tracing idle circles on your side, brushing aside the sweat-slick strands of your hair so he could view the marks he'd left on your neck.

You tried to ignore the tingling sensation where he had marked you and the numbness of your legs as he pulled you closer until your back was flush against his chest. Feeling his still-hard cock against your back, you couldn't help but shiver.

"Y/N," Cillian murmured, his voice suddenly tinged with a hint of remorse. It took you aback. You tried to turn and face him, but with a hand pressing down on your hip, he held you firmly in place. "I'm sorry if I acted odd. I just... I love you, you know? Always have. I just hate knowing that I didn't get to have you first. I don't like the idea of anyone else having you at all." He pressed a chaste kiss against your shoulder blade. You felt him rub his cock against you, felt him kneading the flesh of your ass. "So can I be the first to have you here?"

As you stared into Cillian's eyes, you felt the icy tendrils of your own destruction beginning to take root. You were thankful for everything he'd done so far, so it couldn't hurt...

It would, but you'd push through the pain with him wiping your tears, whispering sweet nothings as you finally gave him something no one else would ever steal from him, something that only he alone would have the chance to cherish.

this was my first time actually writing smut instead of only implying it so i'm sorry if it seems rushed/awkward/scattered 😅

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Ten - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, and Chapter Nine! Masterlist :)

Chapter Ten - You Look Like You Love Me

After Tyler got the fire going, which took him a good half hour, he came back inside to see you curled up on the couch with his flannel on. You had your elbow on the armrest and your head in your hand. He slid his phone out of his pocket and quickly snapped a picture of you that he would later change to be his lock screen photo. 

While you were catching up on some much-needed sleep, he went down to the tiny basement, which doubled as a storm shelter, to rummage through the deep freezer to see what you both could make over the fire. It was either hot dogs or brats, he just had to find them. 

You stirred hearing the commotion, rubbing your eyes and stretching your arms up. You glanced around the room to not see Tyler anywhere. You stood up and walked over to the side door and out by the fire. Since you had gone to the truck it had already cooled off outside a substantial amount where even being in his flannel was still comfortable. You saw two chairs set up and a cooler which you hoped was filled with beer. 

You plopped yourself down in the chair, peeking into the cooler and smiling when a 12-pack greeted you. You grabbed one out of the wet cardboard and popped the cap off and into the fire. The radio was playing softly behind you, but instead of an oldies station, it was a new country station. 

You grabbed one of the shorter logs that was still intact and propped your boots up on it, leaning back into the chair and listening to the male radio host announce the next song. 

“Up next is You Look Like You Love Me which was released recently by Ella Langley and Riley Green,” he said, fading the song in. 

You rocked your feet on the log to the beat of the song and took a drink of the beer. 

“I was all but 22, I think at the time, I’d been out on the road, lonely at night,” Ella sang, “And it’d been a while, so it was on my mind. Well, I saw him walk in, with his cowboy hat,  and I thought to myself, I could use some of that.” 

You didn’t mind the song, but you knew it had been overplayed since its release. After hearing it lord knows how many times, it started to rub off on you. 

“His boots like glass on a sawdust floor, huh, had moves like nothing I’d ever seen before, so I walked right up,” the song played on, “And I pulled him to the side, I handed that man a beer and looked him in the eyes, and I said, baby, I think you’re gonna wanna hear this.” 

“Then I told him,” you sang, “Excuse me, you look like you love me, you look like you want me to want you to come on home.” 

You sipped your beer and hummed along to the rest of the chorus, as you didn’t know many of the words aside from what you’d caught on the radio and online. 

You were so into watching the flames dance with each other, the crackling of the fire soothing your mind, you didn’t hear Tyler come out of the shack and up behind you. 

“Well, I was down at a local beer joint with a few of the guys, when this cute little country girl caught my eye,” Riley sang, “And boy, let me tell you, she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen in a pair of boots.” 

“Well, she walked right up to me, handed me a beer, gave me a look like, let’s get out of here,” Tyler sang behind you, “And that’s when I realized that she was every cowboy’s dream come true.” 

You gasped slightly, Tyler’s all of a sudden appearance scaring you until he kissed your cheek. 

“Why must you do that, I’m too young for a heart attack!” You said, playfully hitting his arm as he walked over to the picnic table. 

“Because seeing you all flustered is cute,” he said, setting the hot dogs down, “So, a slight dilemma.” 

“And what’s that besides my spike in heart rate?” You asked, leaning back into your chair. 

“We have no buns or bread for the hot dogs, so hopefully you’re good with an un-bunned dog,” he said, grabbing the roasting sticks. 

“It’s food. I’d rather have an un-bunned dog than an un-dogged bun,” you said, sipping your beer. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” he laughed while walking over to you and grabbing himself a beer. 

“What are your plans for the rest of the night with me?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“I figured we’d enjoy some fire-roasted hot dogs, enjoy a couple of beers, star gaze then head back to Prairie Winds,” he said softly, “Then start all over again tomorrow.” 

“We’re doing all of this again tomorrow?” You asked, almost choking on your beer. 

“Only if you want to, darlin’,” he said, looking at you. 

“I wouldn’t mind breakfast again,” you said, “But I need to plan a trip to Texas to see my parents soon…” 

“You make it sound like that’s a problem,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Yes and no,” you sighed, “Every time I’ve been back they pressure me about them not getting any younger, how come I haven’t found someone, where are their grandkids.” 

“Well, you can tell them you’ve found someone,” he said with a smirk.

“I’ve tried telling them that before, they didn’t believe me since the guy wasn’t with me,” you said, “And in all honestly I lied to them to try and get them off my back before I snapped and lost it.” 

“When do you want to leave?” He asked, “I’ll even let you drive me Lil Blue.” 

“W-What?” You asked, spitting your beer out, “You want to go meet my parents?”

“Honey, let’s get this straight right now,” he said, looking you in the eye, “After that kiss we shared that got my heart beatin’ faster than when I’m in the middle of a tornado, I plan to spend the rest of my life on Earth with you and only you.” 

Your breath hitched listening to him, you never had anyone tell you that before and mean it. With how he said it and his eyes full of love, you knew he meant it. You smiled slightly at him and hung your head down, a couple of tears sneaking out from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, now lil lady, why are you cryin’?” He asked, setting his beer down and coming to kneel on one knee in front of you. 

“I-I’ve just,” you sighed, then took a deep breath, “I’ve never had anyone say that to me in such a loving manner.” 

“Well you just did, and you better believe it,” he said, lifting your chin slowly with one hand and using the other to wipe your tears, “And you better get used to it because I will tell you every day if I have to.” 

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve such a wonderful…crazy, but wonderful man treat me like this,” you said, trying to laugh while holding back tears. 

“You were just bein’ you, baby,” he said, giving you a smile and a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I was so wrong about you,” you said softly, putting a hand on his chest as he held his kiss on your head. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked, chuckling. 

You softly laughed, “Yeah, it is, babe.” 

“I’m going to start roastin’ these dogs,” He said while standing up and walking to the table where the dogs were now semi-unfrozen. 

“Think you could turn the radio up a smidge?” You asked, getting comfy in your seat again. 

“Anythin’ for my girl,” he said, leaning over and turning the dial up slightly. 

“So you’d really come to my parents with me?” You asked, looking over at him. 

“In a heartbeat.” He said, turning around with a couple of hot dogs on each stick. 

“When would you want to go?” You asked, playing with your fingers.

“Whenever you’d want to,” he said, scooting his chair closer and holding the sticks over the flames. 

“I’ll talk to my mom later, but maybe next week? Just kind of get it done and over with?” You suggested, looking at your watch with it displaying 5:47 pm, “As I’m sure they’re already settling down for the night. Cattle farmer life and all.” 

“Just let me know so I can put Dani in charge of the team,” he said, smiling over at you, “We could stop by my aunts on the way if you wanted to since I’m meetin’ your family and all.” 

“If you wanted to, I wouldn’t want to overstep or anything,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Darlin’,” he said, “What did we just talk about?” 

“Still, Ty,” you said, “It might take me a bit to work through all the trauma I’ve been through…” 

“I know,” he said, “Of course, I want you to meet my family because you are or will be a part of it.” 

“Okay, we can do that then,” you said, “Leave Monday afternoon or something?” 

“Sounds like a plan to me, baby,” he said with a smile, “I can’t wait.” 

Want more? Here's Chapter Eleven!

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. ��No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

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