#and now once again i have to listen how average my driver is and how he doesn't deserve this seat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chocolateheart · 4 years ago

Text

Door number 12

Title: Door Number 12

Word count: 7937 (I know, I'm sorry)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A noisy neighbour is bringing you a lot of emotions. What if this bubbling tension and frustration will finally find their way out?

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (please, wrap it before you tap it), creampie, fingering, handjob, pinning to the wall, clothes tearing, biting, scratching, a lot of kissing, strong eye contact, sex noises, tension, some swearing, noisy neighbour, arguing, stealing food, property damage, I don't know, porn?

Bingo Square Filled: Neighbour AU for @spnmixedbingo

A/N: Yes, another porn. Please, don't judge me, I couldn't help it. I won't say much, that fic just sorta happened. I hope you'll like it! Enjoy babes!

A/N: As always huge huge huge THANK YOU to my dear beta, angel and Queen @winchest09 for giving this piece a look. Love you Tabbs <3 Still, mistakes are mine!

A/N: The gorgeous divider designed by incredibly talented @talesmaniac89 <3

Throwing your bag on the counter along with your keys, a deep sigh left your chest. You numbly looked around your apartment as you began to take off your jewellery. Why did this place always look like a pigsty every time you got back home? Your necklace and bracelet joined your bag when you tossed them to one side as a yawn escaped you.

This day was exhausting, to say the least. Maybe your work wasn’t that demanding but sometimes it was just tiring to the point where you wanted to cry. After shrugging your jean jacket off, your feet took you to the couch and you just collapsed down on it with a pained grunt. Your body was stiff and aching, your head was pounding from pain and as soon as you felt a pillow under it, your will to stay awake had started to fade. You knew you shouldn’t take a nap now as there was still so much left to do today, but for god's sake, it was Friday evening and you had been working for the past 5 days at top speed. An hour of rest was something you definitely deserved.

Without standing up, you lifted your hips to take off your jeans and wrapped yourself in the blanket you always kept on the couch. Relaxing your body with a deep breath, you closed your eyes, already halfway to dreamland. But as soon as you felt yourself drifting completely, a loud sound of guitar suddenly sounded in your ears, making your eyes snap open.

No, not again!

Fisting the pillow, you felt the anger growing as you knew exactly where the loud rock music was coming from; recognising the band as AC/DC. When the volume increased, you hid your head underneath the pillow, desperate to cut off your aching skull from the noise. But it didn’t work, the sound still bleeding through the cushion. It didn’t take you a minute to shoot up on straight legs and pull on your sweats while marching towards the front door.

Mumbling inappropriate words, you entered the staircase for your building and immediately went down; hearing the power of the music increasing with every step you took. You found yourself on a floor below, with your jaw and hands clenched, eyes glued to door number 12 as you approached it. Once you stood in front of it, you lifted one of your fists and hit the hard on the wood a few times, ready to murder the person on the other side. Of course he made you wait till the song ended, causing you to repeat the punching a couple of times.

When the door finally opened, you were fuming with anger, eyes shooting lightnings towards the tall man on the opposite side of the doorstep.

"I swear to god, Winchester," you hissed through gritted teeth, a loud melody almost muffling your words. "If you won't turn that down, I will physically harm you." Your threatening pulled a laugh from him which only acted as another oil drop to the fire.

"Sweetheart you can't do anything to me," he said, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed on this broad chest. "Besides, I don't understand what your problem is." Dean shrugged as if nothing had happened, making your brows shoot up.

"You don't understand?! This music is driving me crazy!" You took a deep breath and while not breaking the strong eye contact you had with him, you started to enlighten him on what exactly was wrong. "I’ve had a terrible day, no, week actually. Everything hurts, my head is pounding and this music is shaking my walls which in turn, is not letting me sleep. So if you could be so nice and turn that off because I swear on what's holy, if I lose my goddamn mind, your name will be the first one I'm gonna mention once they ask me how I ended up in mental hospital." Words just slipped out of you in one unbreakable line and you took shuddering breath after, composing yourself.

However, the smug smirk didn’t leave your neighbour's face; he didn’t give a damn about your monologue. After you finished, he only put a hand on your shoulder and delivered his response.

"It's a Friday evening and we live in a free country. There’s no rule saying I can't listen to loud music, unless it's lights out. What's more, you're the only one who can't stand this, I don't see anyone else coming here to complain, so maybe the problem lies in you, not in me," he simply said, as he flashed you a fake, sarcastic smile and closed the door. But not before saying, "have a nice evening."

You looked up to the ceiling, asking for patience but the frustration and anger were huge. You growled, kicked Winchester's door with your socked foot and cursed, feeling pain going from your toes to the tibial bone.

On your way back to your apartment, you were mumbling out every possible, offensive name that came to your mind when you thought about that green eyed man. Your relationship had been heated ever since he moved into the building. He made your blood boil. Loud music, meetings with his friends, watching movies on full volume on his surround speakers after dark in the middle of the week, noisily cooking at midnight; even his one night stands apparently had an unfulfilled opera career.

You were having a battle with Dean, on average, twice a week. Knowing you weren’t the only one who couldn’t stand his behavior, you asked others for help, but Dean’s charm was way bigger of an opponent than you had expected. He could just use a sweet smile, say a few, flirty words with this deep voice and Ann from the end of the hall would walk on wobbly legs with stupid smile on her face for the next four days.

You couldn’t really blame her, the man was ridiculously attractive but you were looking past it. Dean was an annoying asshole and the only reason you had not yet clawed out his eyes was the fact that visiting the jail wasn’t exactly a wooing thought.

Shutting your door behind you, you leaned against it and ‘Sweet Child O’ mine’ came on. You growled once again, hit your wooden barricade with your head and looked down, trying to find calmness in your floor. Once you stopped radiating fury, knowing that the person below won't let you rest for at least two more hours, you chose the second drawer in your kitchen, searching for painkillers. If you were being made to stay up, you were gonna be productive. Swallowing two aspirin, you decided to clean the place so you could focus on college work tomorrow.

If only you could actually focus on college work.

After waking up at 8 am the next day, you opened the window on your way to the kitchen, craving coffee. It wasn’t normal for you to get up at this hour on the weekend but your finals were coming and you had way more work than you expected.

Thankfully, the weather outside was pleasant; the sun was already shining, creating morning shadows and the soft wind streamed inside your apartment, tickling your ankles as you sat at the table, eating breakfast. The smell of spring made you smile, always bringing back good memories. After the meal, you didn’t bother to change your pajamas for the actual clothes and you just took the laptop to start working on your college sheets. You were sitting with one of your legs bent, heel leaning on the chair, messy bun on your head, sipping on the second coffee while listening to the birds singing happily outside. Words were flooding out of you, making you feel certain that it wouldn’t take you long to be done with your essays. But that blissful moment was cut short when a loud rumble of a car’s engine resonated under your building, causing you to jerk in your chair and almost spill your drink.

Recognizing it straight away, you looked up, trying your best to not get angry again but as the sound of his loud engine revving l continued, you smacked the table with your palm and stood up. As you leaned on your window sill and gazed out, you spotted black, slick Chevrolet with the driver's door, trunk and hood open. Tools were scattered around the vehicle, a jean clothed leg was sticking out from the inside and you greeted your teeth, knowing who that was.

“Hey!” you yelled out, not caring if probably half of the residents could hear you. “I’m trying to study here!”

Dean peeked out and up at you, smiled and got out of the car, leaning his elbow on the hood in a nonchalant way.

“Good morning to you too,” he said and flashed you the oh-so-charming smile.

“It would be good if you didn’t interrupt it with your loud junker,” you spat back, leaning on the window frame and smiled when his face fell; he hated it when someone insulted his Baby, and you were very much aware of that. “Now, could you please lower your generic volume because I have a lot to do and you’re the last thing I want to deal with today.”

“Nobody tells you to. I’m minding my business, you go mind yours, I ain’t stopping you.” He gestured towards you with his grease covered hand.

“No, but your car is making noise that shakes all the dishes in my cabinet.”

He just shrugged and you narrowed your eyes, seeing that he didn’t care about whatever your problem was. “Then I suggest closing the window.”

After saying that, he dived inside the vehicle and seconds later you heard the strong twang of a guitar. Again. This man was very successful in making you hate rock music. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, stopping yourself from throwing a flowerpot at him; only because it was a very nice pot and you were emotionally attached to it.

“I need fresh air! I’m not gonna close the window! Turn that off!” you screamed, but he only frowned and pointed to his ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t hear you!” You could see the smile dancing on his lips and you really wanted to break something on his head. “The music is too loud!”

Clenching your jaw you gave up. Another defeat, but it wasn’t the war you lost; it was just a battle and he was yet to feel your comeback. Showing him your middle finger, you closed the window and went to the bathroom, not being able to hear the soft chuckle that left him.

Maybe to an outsider, Dean’s behavior wasn’t such a big deal, but the longer he acted like that, the more annoying and tiring it was becoming. You couldn’t focus on basic activities because he was giving you a headache in various ways and for some reason, you couldn’t just talk it through with him. Every attempt at trying to get to an understanding with him, ended up with a fight.

Winchester was just a pain in the ass.

Thankfully, he vanished before noon; his car was gone and there was a blissful silence that you made the most of, and finished the majority of what you had to do.

Surrounded by papers and books, you were sitting down on your fluffy carpet, leaning back on your couch, typing away on your laptop. Glancing at your clock again, you frowned. It’s been almost 85 minutes since you ordered pizza; your stomach was rumbling, unhappy with the fact of still being empty. Finding your phone, you dialed the pizza parlor’s number once again. Standing up, you stretched your muscles and looked outside, watching the sunset sky as you waited for someone to pick up. Finally, the lady’s voice spoke to you down the line, asking you how she could help.

“Hi, I made an order from you and I still haven’t received it? It’s been over an hour,” you explained politely, scratching the back of your head.

You didn’t like situations like that; delay was understandable, but it had been way too long. However, you hated to call someone out, you never wanted to make someone’s job harder than it already was. Giving your address to the lady so she could check where your food was, you spotted the black vehicle under the building and your brows shot up. He was home and it was still quiet; it wasn’t normal.

“Miss, the system says your order was delivered and we have a confirmation of receipt.” You frowned hearing her words as what she said was impossible.

“Are you sure? There was no delivery here.”

“Yes, I’m positive. It says someone picked up the order twenty minutes ago.” Pinching your nose, you took a deep breath.

“Could you check the address precisely, please? Maybe your driver made a mistake?” you suggested being already sure someone else got your food.

“Rosenhouse Street, building 4, apartment 12,” she read and the last number made you flinch.

“Apartment 20,” you corrected her, but she denied.

“No Miss, the order was picked up by apartment 12.” And just like that the level of your anger reached three digits in a second.

“Okay, thank you so much,” you murmured and disconnected the call without a goodbye, already storming halfway across your place, getting ready to leave.

Slamming the door, you took a very well known path downstairs and you banged on number 12 as soon as you stood in front of it. Feeling the urge to punch the person who was supposed to open, you inhaled deeply, clenching your teeth. Just... keep it cool, Y/N.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you growled the second Dean came into your view in his domestic clothes, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“Whoa, what?” he tilted his head with an uncomprehending look.

“Listen,” you pointed a finger at him. “Loud noises, annoying car, your mean behavior, fine, okay. Screw it. But stealing food? That is childish. Can you go any lower?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he said with a smile dancing on his lips. “What food?”

“My pizza,” you muttered through your teeth.

“Oh, right!” He smacked his forehead, acting like he just now understood. “Yeah, pizza was great.”

“You stole it!” you exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

“No I didn’t,” Dean stated, giving you a small, I-know-better smile.

“Yes, you did. I ordered it and you just pocketed it!” You really wanted to stamp your foot like a little girl to tick your fury.

"No sweetheart, I didn’t," he said, crossing his arms and straightening his back so he could tower over you, making you look up. "The guy came in with pizza, said he's supposed to bring it here, so I paid for it and ate it."

"Oh! Because it's normal to pay for the food you didn’t order and keep it to yourself. And stop calling me sweetheart!" You puffed out irritated, making him smirk.

"You're cute when you're angry." Your face fell and you felt your palm itching. What would he do if you slapped him?

"Dean," you warned him but he chuckled.

"No, seriously." He reached to your forehead, wanting to brush it with his finger. "You have this cute, little wrinkle in the middle-"

"Don't touch me." You smacked his hand away and pointed a warning finger straight into his face. "One more action like this and you're gonna regret it," you growled out and walked away.

"So it's threatening now, huh?!" he called after you, coming out to stand in the hall.

Before you stepped on the stairs, you turned around with such a force, that your hair flipped over one of your shoulders and you showed him your middle finger. Hearing his low laugh bouncing on the wall, you scoffed annoyed as you stomped loudly going back upstairs. You swore that if you were supposed to become a murderer one day, that this man was gonna be victim number one. This whole 'lets annoy her' process would be great fuel for you to slice that slender throat of his.

Shutting the door again, you walked into the kitchen, dived in the fridge and decided to stuff yourself with pancakes. Screw Dean and his pizza, you were not going to give him satisfaction with ordering anything else tonight.

“So, he’s a confident man,” Jo stated after you told her about Winchester’s behavior.

You came to Harvelle's to grab something for Sunday dinner; they had the most delicious menu in the whole town and no one could change your mind. You were sitting with a blonde girl at the table, outside their restaurant, sipping on some light drinks Ellen had prepared for the two of you. Ash was already working on your meal in the kitchen while Jo was taking her break so she could sit with you and listen about your neighbour under the floor. It took you way longer to describe everything and you felt kind of bad for that. You weren’t the type who whined about such things and forced friends to hear about your bullshit, but now you were desperate to get it all off your chest.

“Confident asshole,” you corrected her, “I just wish he could finally get his ass kicked, you know? I can’t live with this man! He’s an arrogant, offensive, little, annoying dickhead!” you said, crossing your arms on your chest.

After a few seconds of silence, you looked up at Jo. She was watching you, clearly trying not to smile; her lips were twitching and small dimples had already appeared. You knew her long enough to know that she was all ready to tease you about this whole situation.

“What?” you barked at her and she lifted her hands in defense.

“Nothing!” She shrugged. “Just, your relationship with him seems to have been… rough since the very beginning.”

“It is! I really wanna punch him!” Jo lifted her brows, a smile breaking on her face.

“Just punch him?” The suggestion was shining in her eyes and your shoulders fell down at the subtext.

“Jo!” she started giggling when she heard your resigned tone. “Just because I’m having a heated exchange with a hot guy doesn’t mean that I wanna fuck him!”

“Oh, so you think he’s hot?” she asked innocently, taking a sip from her glass.

“Yes, but he’s an idiot and I would never let him in my panties, come on,” you scoffed as you rolled your eyes. The last thing you would ever do was having sex with this man.

“Sure.”

And you knew Jo didn’t believe you. To be honest, if you thought about it really, really hard, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself…

The door opened and Ash came out with a smile, your food packed in a thermal box.

“There you go, girl. We do not accept any complaints,” he said, winking at you and you chuckled, taking the meal from him.

“Thanks, Ash.” He saluted you and vanished as quickly as he appeared. You glanced at your phone laying on the table and sighed seeing the time. “Okay babe, I’m gonna go. School’s calling and I bothered you enough anyway.”

“Oh stop it, you’re not bothering me, don’t be stupid,” she said smiling, and hugged you tight. “Text me when you get home.”

“Sure thing.” You winked and walked backwards, watching her disappear inside the RoadHouse.

Smiling to yourself, you turned around and crossed the street. At first your thoughts were filled with Jo who could always put you in a good mood but then they gradually transitioned into someone else.

You didn’t know if it was your overworked system or what Jo had teased you about that caused Dean to stick inside your mind, but you wanted to scream; it was like he had nested in there. Not only was he disturbing your living space, but he was now invading your mental space as well. What’s more, it wasn’t exactly hard to not think about him in a nasty way, and you hated it. The truth was that he was attractive from his fluffy hair to his toes, and more than once you had caught yourself daydreaming about his hands and mouth on you.

You couldn’t help it. The way he looked was not fair and Jo made you realise that if not for his attitude, you would have slept with him a long time ago. Thankfully, in the moments you felt weakness for him, he was doing something that pissed you off to the point where you wanted to bite his head off.

You really wanted to get even with him, you had to bounce the ball. The need to bite back was so big that you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw the paint store. The bulb in your head flickered on and a devil smile angled your lips. Maybe it was a bad idea, maybe it was childish, maybe it was crossing the line, but you had suffered enough thanks to this jerk.

Buying one can of pink chalk paint, you were muting your common sense that was currently shouting at you. As the saying goes - you only live once. He wanted a fight? You were going to fight. He started to play a strong hand? You were going to do the same. He thought playing with you like that was fun? Well, you were gonna have some fun too. Besides, he wouldn’t realise immediately that the paint would easily wash off, but seeing him panic thinking that his car had been defaced was revenge enough.

With a few last strokes of a paintbrush, you were finished. Straightening your back, you looked down at your work and smiled, satisfied with pink flowers you had drawn on the black surface. They were a nice contrast and you really liked the shape. In all honesty, it kinda burned you to paint this four wheeled beauty, but it wasn’t your fault her owner was a douchebag who deserved a lesson.

The impala was parked in her usual spot, next to the building that was mostly asleep. There were no cameras and due to the late hour, the chance of someone spotting you was small. Besides, you were just a hooded figure, no one would recognise you anyway even with the dim light from a lonely lantern. It was risky, but you were too far gone in your revenge to care. It had been done and you wished you could see Dean’s face in the morning.

Gathering your things you looked around, checking to see if there was anyone you should avoid and you got back to your apartment. After closing the door, you took off your clothes, staying only in leggings and a t-shirt, and decided to make some tea. You had this weird energy bubbling inside of you and it would be a waste to not use it on college papers. Getting comfortable on your couch you started going through materials for one of your projects.

Not expecting any visitors, you jumped slightly while hearing a rapid knocking on your door an hour later. You frowned and stood up, finishing your tea on your way to the entry. What you saw on the other side almost made you smile like an idiot. Dean was boring into you with his eyes; if looks could kill, you would surely be a beautiful corpse by now. His chest was rising and falling heavily, jaw clenched to the point his cheek was twitching and you could see the slight blush coloring on his face. He was wearing his leather jacket but was also in sweats so you assumed he was about to make a quick grocery run or something.

“What the hell?!” he growled at you before you could say a word. Ohhh, he was angry.

“What?” You shrugged innocently, ignoring the weird chill that ran down your spine after hearing the vibrations of his tone.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to not shout out. “I wanted to go get some beer and burgers, but guess what. Someone screwed up my car. And you know what? I think it was you.”

He pointed a finger at you, holding keys in his hand. You laughed and leaned on your doorframe, ready to confront him. Satisfaction already tickled your insides, but there was one thing that you had to admit - he was hot when he was angry.

“You really think that I have nothing better to do than mess up your car?” you asked, amused by his flaring nostrils.

"Don't you fucking dare play with me like that," he said firmly, not wanting to yell. "Do you know it's property damage? You broke a law and I can easily get you in trouble."

He was fuming with anger and you were sure that if it was possible, there would be smoke coming out of his ears. You smiled and stood your ground, finding it adorable how he thought he had anything useful against you.

"You have nothing on me. No proof that I was the one who defaced your car," you started, taking two steps to stand inches away from him. "Call the cops and I'm gonna tell them all about the nuisance, the stealing, manipulation and manifestations of aggression all coming from you.”

You stared straight into his eyes, a smart smile not leaving you even for a second; feeling confident in your words. Maybe he had a point, but you weren’t empty handed. You could get punished for what you did and so could he.

“What is your problem, Y/N?!” he asked, pinching his nose, clearly irritated with you. “You keep whining, making problems out of nothing and now painting my damn car?”

“You’re not letting me live in peace!” you raised your voice. “Your loud music, loud car, loud tv, loud you in general! I can’t sleep, I can’t study, I can’t do anything because you’re always there to disturb me!”

“Then leave!” he suggested, raising his tone as well. You were taken aback; lifting your brows you blinked a few times. Was he joking?

“Leave?! Are you kidding me now?! This is my home and just a friendly reminder, I was in here first so maybe you should back off!”

“But you’re the only one having a problem with me!” he yelled, spreading his arms, highlighting the obviousness of his argument.

“Because you’re a manipulative ass! You use your charm, this fucking smile, your shining eyes, and nice language, and the whole building is yours! Even Ian from the 4th floor and he doesn't even like people!”

“Ian is a cool guy!”

“Good!”

You took a breath and opened your mouth to say something more but no words came out. Again, you were convinced that there was no way to come to an agreement with this guy. Further arguments were pointless. Looking at him you shook your head and brushed your hair to the back. The soft smile and look you gave him next, made him frown a little.

“You know what? Fuck you,” you said simply and went to close the door, but his retort didn’t let you.

“You wish.”

Freezing, you locked your eyes with his and in a split second, something shifted in the air. The atmosphere got thick and the tension you had been building for months, now came into play, kinda taking you both by surprise. Dean felt it too, you could see his expression changing. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was buzzing between you. A part of you wanted to explain it, to show him that you already knew it was sexual tension saying ‘hi’, but as soon as you realised that, you swallowed and forced your rational mask back on.

Shaking off the urge to take steps towards him, you scoffed and sending him one last look, you shut the door without saying anything. Taking two deep breaths, you leaned your forehead on the wooden barricade and closed your eyes.

There was no way in hell you would give in and break. He had everyone else in his fist, but not you. The only person that didn’t fall under his spell, the only one that didn’t let your craving inside take better of you. Dean was still your enemy and a pain in the ass; it was a matter of honour and dignity to stay away.

However, soft knocking made your eyes snap open. No. Darting your head from the door you looked at it, knowing who was behind it but that didn’t even register when you pulled on the door-handle. Dean was supporting his body on his arms that he had placed on both sides of your door, blocking the way. He was looking at you intensely, his breathing quicker than moments ago.

You could see the exact second he made a decision. You knew he was going to do something he shouldn’t and yet, you let him close the gap between you and crush his mouth to yours, cupping your cheeks at the same time. The force he hit you with made you take steps backwards, encouraging him to come in and turn you around so you could unconsciously close the door. His grip was firm, long fingers digging in your neck as hot lips forced yours apart. But your stubbornness caused you to push him away, breaking the connection.

The look you exchanged was a mix of emotions; hate, passion, frustration, lust, confusion, hesitation. This was something completely new for you; needing him was unfamiliar, strange, but at the same time stronger than anything you had felt before when it came to Dean. There was this quiet voice telling you that it was already too late; you tasted it and you wanted it, obviously. The other voice was louder, trying to make you aware of how messed up it's gonna be after, but somehow you didn’t want to listen. Not this time.

"Fuck it."

Saying that, you approached Dean and gripping him by the back of his neck, you pulled him down for a kiss. It was sloppy and deep, all teeth and tongues. He inhaled through his nose, bending down when your nails clawed at his skin. Grabbing you by the waist, he used a little pressure so you walked backwards. You didn’t expect to be pushed against the wall and a surprised gasp escaped you when your back hit it. Looking up at Dean, you noticed how his hungry eyes flickered over your figure and a cocky smirk formed on his face. You mirrored his expression and lifted your chin, so you could suck in his lower lip, biting on it softly. His response was immediate and fierce; he pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the wall completely, kissing you even deeper than before. The heat flooded you, making your cheeks burn and a sweat break.

You moaned and that seemed to spur him on because his hands started travelling all over your body. Doing the same, you aimed for his jacket, pushing it off his broad shoulders so it could land on the floor. The thought of finally discovering what was under his clothes took over your brain and you started to pull on his t-shirt, hazed and eager. But Dean grabbed your wrist and pinned it next to your head, not letting you undress him. You twisted and tugged, trying to break free, but he slid his fingers between yours and you instinctively clenched your palm.

“Don’t fight,” he breathed out, leaving your lips as he dropped to your neck, letting you take a much needed breath.

Leaning your head back you gave him the access to your throat where he licked and sucked, french-kissing your flesh. Your knees buckled a little when his hot lips closed on your pulse point, sending shivers down your spine as his stubble prickled you. Feeling his second hand sneaking under your shirt, you held your breath and jerked on the skin to skin contact. He wasn’t delicate; his long fingers were squeezing and digging, a firm touch making it all the more intense. Using your free hand you fisted his hair, pulling on it. Dean purred, nibbling on your flesh, making your eyes roll. It was like playing tennis, back and forth; you had an answer to each other's movements.

The hunger inside you was growing fast; you were getting more and more impatient and being caged by Dean only made you feel limited. So, naturally, you rebelled, trying to take control; with Dean it was always a competition. But your attempt only caused him to press his body more, his knee coming between your legs, making it harder for you to move. The thin material of your leggings was a weak protection to his touch and you whined when your sensitive area met his thigh. Fidgeting even more, you made him chuckle.

“Stop fighting,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your earlobe between his teeth.

Growling, you turned your head and sunk your teeth into his neck, tasting sweet and salty. Dean hissed and backed away, looking down at you with a surprise in his eyes, brows slightly furrowed. You smiled and angled yourself to speak against his lips.

“Don’t act like you don’t like a fight, Winchester.”

The suggestion was clear and he seemed to understand. Your relationship was already a ticking bomb so why not have a little fun?

The challenging look you gave him was a last jolt and his mode switched. Before you could do anything, he kissed you firmly, letting go of you just to grab on the front of your shirt. Pulling with two hands Dean ripped the fabric in half, revealing your torso, making you smile a devil’s smile. He shook his head in disbelief that you were actually going along with it and grinning, he attacked your jaw. Scraping it with his teeth first, then kissing and going down passed your neck, to your collarbone. Bending his knees so he could reach lower and lower, he proceeded to shrug the destroyed clothing off you and focus on your breasts. Placing sloppy kisses on the curves, Dean moved his hands on your back and unclasped your bra. As soon as it was gone, he sucked in one of your nipples, causing you to arch your chest. Pulling his hair, you grabbed the back of his head, letting him know you enjoyed his work.

Every time his lips touched you, they left burning spots and you could feel yourself getting wetter. Not holding back anymore, you started to roll your hips, seeking the friction his leg could give you. Still playing with your boobs, he caught your hips and added the power to your moves, dragging a moan from you. Glancing down, you spotted the bulge in his sweatpants and realised he was still wearing too much clothes.

“Take that fucking shirt off,” you panted out, grabbing on the piece of clothing on his back.

This time he allowed you to do what you needed, lifting his arms to make your task easier and the second his chest was bare, you used your nails to leave red lines, making him grimace from pain before he kissed you. Caressing his newly exposed body, you felt firm muscles of his strong arms flexing. He wasn’t a gym type of guy, he was soft in some places but firm and strong in general, and that turned you on to the point your stomach flipped.

Suddenly, he pushed on your hips until your butt touched the wall behind you and pulled away from you, straightening himself. You looked at each other, panting and flinching in anticipation. Keeping the eye contact, Dean cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips and slowly slid his hands down your body. You swallowed hard when he hooked his fingers behind your waistband and pulled your leggings down, crouching in front of you.

With a thumping heart you looked down at him, meeting his dark eyes watching you as he kissed your knee, your thigh, your inner thigh; his hands travelling up your legs, leaving goosebumps. You shivered when his hot breath hit your still clothed core. He placed a kiss on your damp panties, making your pussy clench and stopped. Leaning his forehead on your lower stomach, he tried to remain self-control, breathing strongly to calm himself down... and he failed. This whole situation was too much and he had wanted it for way too long to stop now.

Shooting up, he claimed your lips, driving his fingers inside your briefs at the same time. His digits went through your folds, gathering slick and found your clit, making you gasp into his mouth.

“Yeah? Right here?” he whispered and you sucked the air in through your mouth when he drew a circle, pressing harshly on your little nub.

Feeling him smiling, you clung to his neck, keeping him close when he started to make circles on your button. Moaning laughs escaped you, mixed with short breaths as you felt fire filling your veins, tickling sparks running from your clit to every nook of your system. For a moment you lost yourself in the feeling, but your brain woke up when he nudged you, rubbing his dick on your leg.

Opening your eyes, you locked them with his, tracing your palm down his chest and stomach. Somehow, you managed to turn you both around so he was by the wall. You didn’t care about teasing him through his pants so you pushed your hand inside and grabbed his hard shaft. Dean jerked and choked on his breath; the whole foreplay made him ridiculously sensitive.

You smiled satisfied and began to pump him, making his head fall back on the wall. His exposed neck was shining with sweat, throat moving as he swallowed hard. Your biting kink was begging for you to bite him, but the view was too good to not watch. His breathing quickened along with your strokes, his jaw flexing when he opened his mouth to chug. A thick vein popped out on the side of his neck, a guttural whine coming from him when you rubbed your thumb on his tip. Finally, you gave in and closed your lips on his jaw, light stubble pricking your lips. Dean turned his head and palming yours he brought you in for a kiss but you broke it fast, having enough.

"Come on," you said, taking his hand and leading him to your bedroom.

Not being able to stay away from each other, you stumbled towards the room, kissing and laughing, getting rid of the rest of the clothes on your way. Hitting the bed you let yourself fall on it, pulling Dean behind you. He hovered above you, using his tongue to play with your nipples as you both climbed up to the headboard. Adjusting the pillows beneath you, you felt his body pressing down, arms sneaking under yours as he kissed you deeply. Rolling his hips, he drove his cock between your folds, poking your clit and you automatically lifted your lower body up on your heels, feeling the electricity running through you. Dean bit down on your lip and pulled on it hard with his teeth, smiling when you hissed.

Without thinking much you just reached between your bodies and guided his cock to your entrance, making him freeze. The look he gave you was a mashup of a question and disbelief, and all it took was your evil smirk. You felt him fisting the sheets under you and with one, mild thrust he slid inside of you. Arching your back you inhaled, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He was stretching you; your walls fluttered around him when he bottomed out, making the two of you give silent moans, your voices stuck in your throats from intensity.

Watching you, he began to move, making you both more and more comfortable with the feeling. Gradually, his pace increased and so did the noises. Your breathy moans and growls filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping on skin as Dean's hips waved between your thighs, faster and faster. New layers of sweat covered your bodies as the temperature increased; you felt the omnipresent, pleasurable burning.

Dean kept the rhythm, only stopping for just for a moment to kiss you. Not letting the opportunity pass, you pushed on him and flipped over so you were on top. Looking at you with a smirk, he palmed your asscheeks as you sinked down on him, continuing the activity.

The passion and sensuality made your head spin; Dean’s lustful eyes devouring you alive weren’t helping. You dragged your nails on his flesh again, making him hiss between the sounds. It wasn’t easy to breathe, to think or control yourself; your body started working by itself, speeding up, making you bounce on him while leaning your hands on his chest for support. Dean couldn’t decide where to touch, what part of you he should grab next; his hands were everywhere. Wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck he sat up, changing the angle and gave you this eye-rolling kiss. This asshole knew what he was doing.

A new position allowed you to only roll your hips and you laid back, grabbing Dean’s ankle to make your moves more fluent. He took a handful of your ass, helping you, watching himself sliding in and out of you, growling in pleasure. Tangled together you moved in sync, matching the other’s moves, grinding to empower the sensation. Feeling the coil tightening in your stomach, your head hung back and you exhaled, wailing quietly. A hand flattened on your back and Dean violently pulled you up, pressing your forehead to his. With closed eyes, panting against each other's mouth you chased both of your deliriums. Your pussy fluttered, your nails dug into his neck as you clasped it; the feeling started to overwhelm. The way Dean was moaning and clinging to you made it clear that he felt the same.

Your strength was fading and you found yourself slowing down. Dean’s attempts to continue were in vain as he was becoming weak too, exhaustion and his upcoming release taking over him.

“Y/N,” he warned you and you opened your eyes, looking at him when he reached between you. “I’m gonna-” you kissed him, cutting him off, tugging on his lip with your teeth.

“Stay inside,” you whispered, watching the surprise flash through his features.

The serious, assuring look on your face made his eyes roll back and the noise he made, clamped your stomach. Using your last strands of your power, you sped up, Dean joining you by hitting the right spot inside you. His fingers found your clit again, rubbing on it fast and you moaned loudly, feeling your muscles tightening.

A few more strokes, a few more moves and the crushing wave of pleasure hit you; your inner walls pulsated, squeezing Dean’s cock as you grabbed firmly on his neck, holding on for dear life. His thrusts went more erratic but also were more powerful; he was pounding inside you slow but hard, putting his forehead between your breasts. You were shaking and his breath fanning over your tummy only added more goosebumps.

Then you felt his arms wrapping around you and he hugged you tight. Pulling you close, Dean thrusted for the last time and with a low, throaty groan he stilled; his cock throbbing inside you, allowing you to milk him as you were still coming. The two of you were shivering, entwined in each other, panting and sweaty. Your heart was hammering and you could feel Dean’s galloping as well.

After calming down a bit, he let go of you and fell back on the bed, hitting the pillows with a sigh. Licking your lips, you looked down at him and smiled, seeing his eyes sparkling with joy and bliss. He laughed, caressing your thighs and then pulled you down for a kiss. It was sweet and soft, without tongue, just lips brushing yours; completely different then those earlier.

Oh, so he could be gentle too.

Cupping his face, you pecked his mouth a few times and then rolled off of him, standing up to make a quick run to your bathroom to clean yourself, leaving the door open.

"Hey!" you heard him yelling not even two minutes later, after you splashed your face with cold water. "Is it weird that I wanna cuddle?!"

You smiled on his words, shaking your head. Asshole also appeared to be a softie cuddler. Can this evening be any weirder?

"Yes!" you yelled back, laughing as you put down the cloth you were using to dry yourself.

"Cool!" he announced and then changed his tone, "I don't care."

Chuckling, you turned the light off on your way out and grabbed a random, oversized t-shirt from your drawer to put it on, letting it slip from one of your shoulders. Dean was making himself comfy in your bed, watching you carefully with his arm under his head and a stupid grin on his face.

"What?" you asked as you climbed on the bed, joining him under the covers.

"Nothing," he shrugged and shifted so you could fit in, resting your head on his chest.

Throwing your arm over his middle, you hugged him as his fingers came to trace the skin on your shoulder. A comfortable silence fell over you as you cuddled, enjoying the warmth, but you knew his mind was running, just like yours.

You didn’t like this tendency of yours to overthink, but the current situation was not only unexpected but also confusing. What now? Lovers? Relationship? Friends with benefits? Enemies with benefits? Because, you had to stay honest, if he did something that would piss you off, no matter how good he was in bed, you would still punch his perfect nose.

"I'm sorry." His words surprised you, detaching you from your thoughts. "For being a noisy neighbour."

You could hear the genuine guilt in his voice and that immediately made you feel like a bitch, so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

"I'm sorry for screwing up your car," you mumbled and quickly regretted it.

"Ha! So it was you!" His victory voice made your eyes roll and you poked his side, annoyed by the fact he dragged a confession from you so easily.

"But if it makes you feel any better, the paint is made of chalk so it’ll easily wash off," you said, unable to help the silly smile that spread across your face when you saw the relieved but shocked expression that he wore.

“Well played,” he chuckled, the sound rumbling under your ear which you found oddly comforting. So you snuggled more, melting into the intimacy.

You had to look the truth straight into the eye; maybe he did infuriate you like no other but there was something else. A pull, an urge to blow off the constant steam forming between you. You wanted him and something was telling you that from now on you won't be knocking on door number 12 just to fuss about loud music.

And once Jo finds out, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) Feel free to leave some feedback. ASKs and DMs are open, don’t be afraid to message me. Every word from you is gold <3

Tag list is open! :)

If something is not working, you weren’t on the tag list even if you wanted to, you can’t send an ask or you didn’t receive the notification about me tagging you in any of my fics, please contact me in DM’s.

Tag list: @deanwanddamons @jay-and-dean @katehuntington @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee @lady-pswrld @rvgrsbrns @polina-93 @teresa-67 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @mrspeacem1nusone @flamencodiva @cutiecowgirl @waywardbaby @flashxspn @lyarr24

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baecvlt · 4 years ago

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Hello hello! I looove your work! I was wondering if I could requests Kazuichi taking his best friend(or lover! Just thought friend would make it more interesting) on a late night car ride to test some adjustments he made to it, could end up with some steamy car sex? Hopefully this made sense! I've been craving this kind of fic

Car Sex: Kazuichi Soda x Reader

a/n: It’d be an honor to write this. Hope you enjoy! ALso VERY WELL ESTABLISHED FRIENDSHIP HERE + projecting my interests onto reader because I get selfish AND I feel like Kaz listens to rock/alt/indie music. K byeee. ALSO READER IS FEM, pls specify next time

It was a Friday night, you were out for dinner with your best friend, Kazuichi Soda. You were glad to finally get out the house. It got lonely, plus you got to catch up with him and see him personally. He offered to pay for your meal, you allowed it since this time you were tight on money. As he paid, you notice he was excited about something.

“I know this is so last minute,” he began,“But I was wondering if you’d come back to the shop with me”

You nodded, but remained curious. “Of course, I’ll go, but why?”. He leaned toward you and he was excited. His leg was shaking and hands slightly shaking. “I’m finally finished with my car!,” he cheered,“I want you to be the very first to join me for a test drive!”. You smiled. Kazuichi had been working on this car since high school. He almost gave up on it too, so you were happy he never gave up on it. “Of course I’ll go!,” you told him, just as cheerful as he was. You both has walked to the restaurant, now walked back to the shop.

His family was there, closing the shop up. You obviously greeted them. He walked right past them and to the garage. A sheet was on top of the car. Once you were in the room, he walked towards it. He grabbed the sheet, doing a small countdown. “3..2..1-”. He yanked the sheets off, revealing a new and improved car. “So, what do ya think?”. You were excited with him now. “Jesus, the paint job on this is amazing!,” you said to him. “‘May have taken me my whole high school and half my college experience to finish it, but it was worth it!”.

“Totally”

“What do ya say? Should we take it out for a spin”

“You don’t have to ask me twice”

He cheered quietly, opening the passenger door for you and hopping into the driver’s side. He opened the garage door, pulling out of the driveway. He had only driven down the street and you saw how nervous he was. You grabbed his hand, he gasped when you did. “Hey, I’m sure the car is fine, don’t stress out”. He smiled, putting his arm around you. You relaxed laying back. You drove around for about half an hour, going up some hill to a mountain. “Where are we going?,” you asked him.

“We’re gonna look at the stars”

“Ooo, nice”

He parked by the edge of the mountain. It was weird because no other cars were to be seen. Usually there were. “By the way, I wanna show you the coolest thing here,” he said, opening the glove compartment. He took out a CD, Slowdive's 1993 album Souvlaki, and revealed he had a working stereo. "Holy shit, it works?," you were excited. He nodded, popping in the CD. "I love Slowdive," you mumbled. He smiled, chuckling a little.

"I know. You were listening to it the day we met"

"Oh! I was...Yeah, I remember you came up to me that day. You were so awkward"

"Right? God, I feel like I acted like a douche"

"You were like,'Hey, we shouldn't be able to hear your music'"

"Yeah, yeah. Then you were all,'Oh, sorry!'. Then, I was like,'Don't worry, but anyway, Slowdive, huh?'"

You both laughed. "God, I felt that you were trying to hit on me that moment," You told him,"But you're just...you're really nice". Smiling, he shook his head. "Do you miss high school?," he asked. You thought about it for a moment. Did you? "You know what," you began,"Partially". He was confused. "What do you mean?".

"Well, we all had good times in high school. We had good friends, all those memories. We've kinda drifted away, but that's why I partially miss it"

"So why don't you?"

"I felt like I didn't belong"

He looked at you sympathetically. "You all had an established talent. I didn't," you told him,"Sometimes, I still wish I hadn't gone". Hearing you say so saddened him. "But you're good at a lot," he said,"You were better than everyone there". "You're just saying--".

"No! I swear, you are talented at a lot. It was just never put into one thing. You aren't alone either. Hajime never had an exact talent, Nagito won a lottery...you belonged there just as anybody else. You are a Jack of All Trades—"

"—Master of None."

"NO! You are the master of all!"

You smiled. "I care so much about you. I'm really glad we met. I just know that if we hadn't met my life wouldn't be the way it is now...," he said,"So, please, never say that again! You belonged there". You lay back in your seat, trying not to cry. For the first time in forever you felt like you had a place in the world, it felt weird, but not bad. You weren't used to feeling important. "Are you even happy with your life?". He looked at his thumbs when you asked him that. You were afraid of his answer, you didn't know why, but you were.

"There are somethings I wish I didn't have to deal with, but when I think about you, I realize that it's all worth dealing with...and that makes me the happiest man in the world"

"Kaz..."

He said your name, his voice low when he did. It interrupted anything you wanted to say next and your thoughts were racing. "I..I—". He sighed. You knew whatever he had to say next was not easy for him to spit out. "You know how important this car is was for me, it took up my entire high school year to work on. I know I had fun doing it, but I didn’t build it for me,” he sputtered and you could tell he was nervous,“I made this car so that...so that I'd have something to impress you with the day I had the courage to tell you how I really feel about you. I love you and I have for so long. I don't see myself being with anyone else and I wanted you to think of me as the coolest guy you'd ever met and now you probably think I'm a chump–"

You launched yourself towards him, attacking his lips and you felt his skin radiating. He felt as if he had been kissed by an angel. "I love you too, Kaz," you whispered. You really did. Crawling onto his lap, you pushed his hair back. "I wish it hadn't taken you so long to tell me," you added, frowning,"We could have done all these cute high school couple things, then moved onto adult couple things". He kissed you this time, his hands on your hips as you nibbled his bottom lip. He managed to move you both to the passenger side in order to prevent your back setting the horn off. He stopped for a minute.

"'Adult couple things'?"

"Yeah"

"Well, we're adults now, aren't we? And who says we're too old to do what high schoolers do"

"You're not wrong either...but are you interested in doing adult things with me?"

He blushed and looked away for a minute,"I, uh- I've never done it before. I was waiting do it with someone who loves me, y'know? But- you love me, right?". You laughed, nodding. He laughed too, shaking his head as he reached up your skirt, his calloused and rough hands rubbing your thighs. "Hoh-okay, you asked for it". He leaned forwards to kiss you, grabbing the waistband of your panties as his tongue entered your mouth. He pulled them down, allowing you to remove the rest by making his seat go further back. You kicked them off, going to unzip his jeans and pull those down too along with his boxers. He was already rock hard and made you throb just looking as his cock. It was slightly above average in both length and girth, but what did you expect from a dork like him?

You took off your entire skirt before climbing right back into his lap right after pulling them down, he smirked and lowly praised you: "Good girl". He kissed you a little more before he grabbed his cock, ready to guide it inside you. "You ready?". You were shaking, but uttered a soft,"Yes...". Before he could, the Slowdive song you were listening to when you first met started playing and you knew this was meant to happen. You melted when he heard it too. It means it meant something to him and it meant as much to him as it meant to you. "You remember this song, baby?". He pressed light kisses on your forehead as you nodded. You felt his tip at your entrance and you whined. "W-Wait! Kaz, please be careful," you begged. He nodded and kissed you again. "I'll be soft," he reassured you,"Besides, I want to take my time with you. Okay?". You took a breath and relaxed.

"Okay"

"Uh, wait- I should probably ask. Did you wanna do this laying down? I don't think it's fair if you're on top during our first. Plus, I don't want your back to hurt"

"Y-Yeah, my back was starting to ache a little"

He nodded, putting the seat all the way back, now mimicking a bed. You switched positions, spreading your legs for him. He put the volume on the stereo almost all the way up before picking your legs up. He positioned himself again, pushing in just the tip. You gasped quietly, breaking into a very sweet moan as he pushed in all the way, groaning lustfully. He repeatedly pushed in: deep, but slow. He only felt his erection grow harder seeing you blush. Your little moans and soft whimpers when he'd hit that one spot you thought only you would be able to reach made him twitch inside you. He tried to keep his composure, but your walls constantly pumping him made it almost impossible. He leaned forward, desperately trying to kiss you. You could've melted right then and there, seeing how this man made love to you. "I-I love you..," he whispered against your lips. God, he was so cute too.

"I love you too, Kaz, but this is a little too slow now"

"Please, tell me what you need"

"I want you fuck me harder"

"Whatever you say, princess"

His thrusts went from "slow and deep" to "abrupt and very deep". "Like that?". You kissed him in response, grabbing his hair and pushing his head to you. His hips snapped inside you, making it harder to control your breathing. At this point, the windows as fogged up, making the air around you hot. He grabbed your breast, massaging them. You did him the favor of unbuttoning your blouse. You grabbing his hand and slipped it under your bra. "They're so pretty and warm," he mumbled. You could tell he didn't want you to hear that from how low he said it, but you heard it well. He pulled your bra down to your torso, ducking his head down to be able to suck on your breasts a little. "K-Kaz! I'm really sensitive there!". He didn't respond, so entertained by your boobs, knowing playing with them made you feel good.

Your stomach was in knots and it was hard to hold anything anymore.

It took one really hard thrust, making you squirt. He didn't even know it could do that. You didn't cum all the way through, making it uncomfortable now. You felt like you were being edged. "Kaz, it doesn't feel good anymore".

"Do we stop?"

"No, no! Just...I need to cum"

"I'll get you there"

His hands went back to your hips, slamming into you fast and deep. Your body trembled, shaking as he hit your sweet spot again and again and again. "Is this okay?," his voice husky as he was nearing his orgasm too. You nodded, whining. "I-It feel so good..please don't stop," you cried,"It's so good!..". He went faster, grunting softly. You were near crying, about to release. "Are you gonna cum?". He was just as impatient as you were.

"I'm cumming, I-I'm cumming"

"I can't last anymore. C-Can I cum inside?"

"Please, baby"

He groaned you name, shooting his load in you. You knew it was a lot too, feeling it when you moved. He pulled out, laying on the other seat lazily. You were still so turned on, pumping your two fingers in and out of you, securing his cum inside you. "Good girl". You picked your braw up to cover your chest since it was getting cold. "You look so pretty," he added. You were blushing as he helped you with your clothes. Naturally, you helped him with his. "I hope this is a good time to ask, but...". "Yes?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend"

"I'm so glad you do. Yes, Kazuichi, I'll be your girlfriend!"

"Yes! Fuck Yes! Oh god, I'm so happy!"

You kissed his cheek, making him become even more giddy as he wrapped his arm around you and drove you to his home. Kissing on his bed, he hugged you tightly afterward as you shushed him to sleep.

#danganronpa #kazuichi danganronpa #kazuichi soda #kazuichi souda #kazuichi soda x reader #kazuichi souda x reader #kazuichi soda smut #kazuichi souda smut #kazuichi smut #smut #x reader

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glitterge1pen · 3 years ago

Text

Um Hello? Roadtrip Bonding?

Shoto Todoroki x reader, sfw, fluff?, word count 717,

shout out to @red-kewpie-cap for this idea and concept!!! Go check out their stuff :P

It was Shoto’s turn to drive again and you had ended up in the passenger seat. Shoto was a cautious, steady driver, he was the one who suggested getting a map at the gas station for when the service would eventually go out on the road. You didn't really need the map, since the GPS on the phone still worked, but you had unfolded it and were reading over your route to pass the time.

Your friends were asleep in the backseats. The AC on, the sky outside gray, like rain could break at any moment, and Shoto had the radio on the classical station. Driver got to pick music to maintain peace in the car. Usually Shoto let you use his phone to choose the music while he drove but it had died some miles back.

“Is this the type of music you like?”

“Huh? Shoto, it’s a radio?”

“Yeah, but by the time I was old enough to drive the car I got had a screen and bluetooth,”

You nod understanding.

“But what about when you were younger? You never had to change the station? Not even once?”

Shoto gave a shrug.

“My family has drivers, we sit in the back,”

Whenever Shoto said ‘family’, you got an uneasy feeling in your gut. Not ever sure what would come out of Shoto's mouth next. He rarely had any average experiences or platitudes to add when it came to family conversation.

“Well, did you ever have a favorite station?”

Shoto contemplates. The road was empty, it had been for about an hour now, nothing but farmers fields and muddy soil this far out. When you looked at him, his bright hair stood out against what had become dull scenery.

“Natsuo and Fuyumi, they used to play music in Fuyumi’s room sometimes after Enji would go to bed. It would always be really late. I’m not sure how I would even manage to wake up. The music was never loud. But I would sit on Fuyumi’s bed too tired to dance with them.”

He slows the car, the first turn in forty five minutes was approaching.

“It was one of those top hits stations, because after an hour the songs would loop. I’d whisper the few lyrics I knew, and I’m pretty sure they would carry me back to my room. I was years younger than them and fell asleep faster. Fuyumi still has that radio, it's pink, has a cat on it. Hello kitty, it has Hello Kitty on it. “

The car turns. You shift in your seat a little, waiting for Shoto to tell you more but he is quiet once again. He stares off, seemingly done reminiscing. Then he perks up, his back perfectly straight as he takes his eyes off the road to look at you.

“Sorry for telling you all that, I didn't mean too,”

“It’s okay, I don't mind at all,”

You say reassuring him. You reach for the volume dial and turn it down lower.

“What type of music did they used to play?”

“I guess you would call it pop,”

“And how old were you?”

“Seven or eight, maybe even six”

You talk in the softest voice you can muster. Showing him how to tune the radio, which buttons pop open the tape deck or let you put CD’s in. How to mute, stop, rewind. You cruise through the stations easily, listening intently for a particular type of station.

You clench your fists in silent triumph when you catch the station. There was always a station like this, no matter where you went. The talk show host was closing out their segment.

“Up next it's everyone's favorite hour, our 90s to the 10’s forever hits! First up is SOS by Rihanna followed by Mariah Carey’s Heartbreaker! Enjoy folks!”

Shoto looks at the radio suspiciously. Like it knows something about him. Then he turns to you mumbling out his words, shy, and avoiding your gaze.

“Thank you”

༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: I’m back!!! Kinda. Presumably. Maybe. Have been super tired lately but hopefully I can write some more. First tine writing Shoto too :p he's a little goofball :p Also I mentioned it early in this post but this piece is really only thanks to @red-kewpie-cap !!!!

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #fellow writers!

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binniedeactivated · 4 years ago

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hello binnie 👉👈 can i request a dom!beomgyu x fem!reader smut that follows the enemies to lovers plot line? maybe add in some degradation kink and jealousy or something (if possible) 👀 thank you!!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞!𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐮, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖/𝐂 | 3.2k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱

a/n: this is my first time writing an arranged marriage fic so tell me if ya’ll like it (pls)

in his cleanly tailored black suit, an impatient beomgyu taps his foot in the corridor. he checks his watch for the fifth time in 6 minutes, looking over at the guards and driver with frustration.

“I don’t understand what’s taking her so long. what is she doing?”. he seethes.

“if you like I can check on her for you sir”. the maid asks politely. beomgyu nods and gestures toward the spiraled staircase of their oversized, luxurious home. “can you please? thank you”.

you were finishing the last touches on your makeup. you loved your outfit and you thought you looked gorgeous in your skin tight , satin salmon colored dress. however the only thing bad about this outing is that you had to go with your husband, choi beomgyu. marriage is one of the happiest times in any woman’s life but not yours. you didn’t have the beautiful, unpredictable love story like the average person. instead you were arranged in a marriage with a person you weren’t compatible with.

and the worst part about it all is that you couldn’t back down even if you tried. coming from a rich and rather popular family yourself, they wanted you to marry someone similar that could possibly understand you better and match your sentiments and luxury. so they picked the infamous choi beomgyu, apart of one the biggest, richest clans in the nation. as soon as you and beomgyu first interacted you knew there would be nothing to look forward to other than the downfall of your marriage. and you were just waiting for your family to see that.

“excuse me? mrs. choi? mr. choi was wondering if you were going to be ready any time soon?”.

you rolled your eyes. “tell him I’m coming down. I don’t know why he’s rushing me”. she nods her head and closes the door while you grab your purse. you took one last glimpse in the mirror and spread just a bit more glitter gloss on your lips before you were walking down the staircase. glancing up from his watch annoyed he glares up at you and tries his best to keep his eyes from skimming your curves.

“I don’t know why it takes you so long to get dressed. we’re going to an anniversary banquet not the grammy awards”.

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to rush me all the time. I said I was coming down. the venue is only 10 minutes away and the event doesn’t start for another 30 minutes”.

you say with just as much attitude as him, the guards helping you step into your heels as soon as you arrived at the bottom of the staircase. you whisper a small thank you while another wraps your fur coat around your neck. by this time anyone who worked in the choi residence were used to their frequent bickering. so there was no use in trying to get the duo to stop.

“yeah and we have to account for traffic. you also know that since I’m the son of the chief I have to be there on time. I don’t have time to be waiting for you to play in your little makeup box”.

you both head out of the door with the guards helping you to the car. the car was the worst out of all locations. since you two had a designated driver everywhere it meant that you would have to sit in a partitioned backseat with beomgyu.

you began talking as soon as the door closed behind you. “just because you get dressed two hours before every event doesn’t mean I have to do the same thing”.

“did I even say that? I’m just saying you have to start taking time into consideration. I don’t care how you get ready”.

“you were implying it so I’m letting you know. And I don’t care if you’re the chief ‘s son or not. I don’t care that you’re my husband. I don’t have to listen to you”.

“if you keeping doing what you want to do you’re going to give both of our families a bad reputation and we’re both going to lose our status and become poor. and I’m sure with all that glamorous shit that you wear becoming poor is your biggest nightmare”.

“and do you see how cocky you are? I’m pretty sure becoming poor is your biggest nightmare too. so how about we not go into that subject?”.

“I’ll go into whatever subject I want to go into because you don’t listen”.

“and who exactly do I have to listen to? please tell me”.

beomgyu rolls his eyes and sighs, he diverts his gaze to the scenery out the window while shooing you off. “you know what I don’t care anymore”.

you smacked his hand away. “don’t shoo me away Iike I’m some animal beomgyu. have some damn respect”.

“why would I respect you if you don’t respect me?”.

“I’m done talking to you. just stop talking”.

“good I’ve been waiting for you to be done”.

“good”. you say turning towards your own window in frustration. god he knew how to work your nerves.

“good”. he repeats back. and the both of you maintain the silence until it was time to actually speak at the event. it was the choi clan’s anniversary tonight and everyone couldn’t wait to see their baby boy beomgyu with his wife. it was something they all couldn’t believe considering they all raised him since he was in diapers. however acting like a married couple with beomgyu was the last thing you wanted to do tonight.

but nevertheless beomgyu snatches your hand in his before you two walked in the corridor. you wanted to say something but you guys were immediately bombarded by hugs and kisses from grandpas, grandmas, uncles, aunts, and even old cousins. most of them complimented how cute you two looked together and even asked when you guys were going to have children. you could just puke at the thought. you and beomgyu hadn’t even slept in the same bed.

the both of you sat down to your assigned dining table and other than the fact that you had to play pretend with beomgyu, you admired the historic decor and architecture of the venue.

“oh my gosh you guys are just so adorable together! let me tell you when beomgyu was little he always wanted to get married. he always talked about having a wife it was so cute. I’m glad to see he got his wish with someone as beautiful as you!”. one of his aunts complimented you both as soon as you sat down. you plastered on a fake smile and beomgyu nods with another fake smile of his own.

“can I get a picture if you don’t mind? I would love to add this to my photo album!”.

beomgyu puts his hand up and laughs, “auntie you really don’t have to right now. we can take pictures later”.

she flips her hand in the air, “oh! nonsense beomgyu! now you two pose for my camera”. she insists holding it up. you just wanted to come out of your body for a moment to see how awkward you both looked.

“guys! sit like you love each other. maybe you can kiss him on his cheek? that would be adorable!”.

now that was way too far for your liking. you shook your head and laughed to avoid it but you felt beomgyu nudging you underneath the table.

“just do it”. he murmured.

“no I’d rather be caught dead than lay my lips on you”.

“stop acting like a fucking child. just do it”.

for the sake of the status of you both, you positioned your lips right near his cheek but not letting them touch. she held up her camera but quickly put it down and laughs. “I don’t know why this looks staged. you two love each other! how about you just kiss? the cheek kiss looks a bit too fake for me”. she says before holding up her camera again.

the both of you swallow. he turns to you, “i promise after this my lips will never touch you again”. he whispers.

“good”. you mutter.

“good”. he repeats. he holds his breath before pressing his lips against yours. she quickly snapped the picture and jeered at the cuteness of it. but you couldn’t help but think about the softness of beomgyu’s lips and how they matched perfectly with yours. how he kissed you so passionately in such a short amount of time. how he made your heart pound. he quickly pulled away once he realized he was kissing you a bit too long knowing you were probably going to scold him. but for the first time in a long time you didn’t really want to.

the event was starting and the both of you bit your lips while diverting your gazes elsewhere. as the night progressed, oddly enough you avoided each other at all costs. even if that meant sparking conversations with a couple of gyu’s cousins just to do so. but like the jealous cousins’ they were though they were definitely doing more flirting than conversing. you had to say receiving other male attention wasn’t half bad. it wasn’t like you and beomgyu were a thing anyways.

beomgyu gently stirs his cup though, eyeing you from across the room. his uncles were giving him advice for marriage but he could only focus on the way his cousin subtly flirted by kissing you on the back of your hand multiple times. and it didn’t make it any better when you were blushing in response. it scared beomgyu because he hated you. and you hated him. so he couldn’t understand why he was getting jealous but he was and he couldn’t stop himself. his jealous aura made things much colder especially when you two were back in the car.

“and then here you go, having an attitude about something else“. you roll your eyes. as the door closed after you.

“i don’t know why you say shit like that if you know you cause them”.

“what did I do this time? I barely said a word to you tonight”.

“exactly. you were too busy exchanging them with my cousin”.

“and why does it concern you? we’re barely a couple let alone married”.

“do you realize that if you even slip up a little bit it affects our reputation? do you not think about that?”.

“why aren’t you addressing your cousin too then? he was flirting with me first”.

“and you were flirting back”. beomgyu snapped with his annoyed gaze out the window once more. you stared at him curiously.

“what? are you jealous?”.

“stop talking to me”.

you roll your eyes at his attitude again. he pissed you off so much. “I don’t even know why you’re jealous. we kissed for the first time tonight. we’ve been married for almost a year. doesn’t that say something about this whole entire relationship?”.

“I said stop talking to me”.

“what did I say about me not having to listen to you? I’m tired of you thinking you own--”.

in the blink of the eye beomgyu grabbed you and pulled you on his lap while his hand squeezed your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks inwards.

“you know what? shut the fuck up. shut up. I am sick and tired of your attitude. every single time I say something you escalate it and drag it. no one can ever tell you shit because you feel like you know everything. I’m sick of it. I don’t want to be in this marriage as much as you but guess what? we don’t have a choice. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life arguing with you this shit is getting old. do you understand me?”.

your eyes grew as his tone of his voice. he slipped into a dialect you never heard out of him before. your heart raced and you nod at his words with your jaw aching painfully. he finally releases you and you glare back at his angered face while touching your jaw. you breathe heavy,

“why couldn’t you have gotten your point across without putting your hands on me?”.

“because I know you’d like it if I put my hands on you wouldn’t you?”.

and after that line, there was nothing but the heated stares and silence rising from the space between you. beomgyu took this time to admire your body from this close. he lets his fingers brushes against your thighs, following up your curves and your boobs and you let him. because it’s what you wanted. it’s all you wanted. you wanted beomgyu to touch you.

he stared you in your needy eyes before clasping his hand around your neck.

“you like it don’t you?”.

as soon as you bite your lips and nod beomgyu is already crashing his lips into yours. it was a kiss identical to this kiss from earlier except this time he kissed you hungrily. all this time he was craving you and now he couldn’t get enough. each time he pulled back for air he went in for more allowing his tongue to battle yours like a warrior, both pair of your hands curiously wandering the unfamiliar body of the other. he lifts your dress up and you unbuckle his slacks. he inches down to your neck and sucks skin burning hickeys that elicited soft moans from your lips. and they turned beomgyu on more than they should’ve because he never heard you moan before. he unzips your dress, let his fingers tease your slit through your panties while his tongue made a trail to your nipples.

you gasp in shock at the way he was sucking them, his head bobbing slowly on each nub before flicking them with his tongue. you mewl soft enough to be inaudible to the driver. not that he could hear much anyway with how loud the engine was roaring. he sticks his fingers in your panties and tease your clit while sucking your nipples obediently like the puppy he was. you push down and grind on his fingers, never in a million years thinking you’d be moaning for gyu like this.

he clasps his hand around your neck once more watching your grind your hips down on his fingers. he scoffs, “with the way you speak to me you don’t deserve to feel this good”. your head tilted back as your needy noises flooded the air. you wanted him so bad. you knew this wouldn’t be enough to get you off.

“look at your face. you want to be fucked don’t you?”. you nod as best as you could. “beg for it”.

you shamelessly obliged. “pplease beomgyu, please fuck me”.

“tell me that you’re going to stop talking back to me“.

“ffuck i’m going to stop talking back”. you groan.

“tell me you’re going to work on your attitude”.

“I’m ggoing to work on my attitude!”.

“you promise?”.

“yyes I promise”. you stammer.

words couldn’t explain how good you felt when beomgyu finally stuffed himself in you. he kept his thumb on your clit and fucked up into you as fast and hard as he possibly could. he disregarded your sweet cries or the love bites you created in his neck. he disregarded how much you clawed at his shoulder blades or squeezed the back of his neck. you were sopping wet for him and he wanted to feel all of you. he didn’t care how rough he was. he wanted to teach you a lesson once and for all.

“you’re so fucking--mmh”. beomgyu groans.

you caress his wrists while he chokes you and you moan while mindlessly drooling all over his fingers. he rubs your clit in small circles. you pant heavily feeling your hips stutter in his thrusts. “yyou’re going to make me ccum beomgyu-”. you whine, “fuck you’re going to make me cum”, you whine in a higher tone than anticipated.

“after you cum I don’t want to hear any mouth from you anymore. who owns you?”.

“yyou ! you own me beomgyu! fuckkk I’m cumming”.

your hips bucked while you released only for beomgyu to clutch your thighs and continue his sloppy thrusts inside you. you feel bad for the mess you were making on his lap but it seemed as if he didn’t care. you whined into the crook of his neck while he was overstimulating you until he finally got his fix.

“I’m almost done baby”. he groans while thrusting into you a few more times before painting your insides with his cum. with a heaving chest he lands a hot blooded kiss on your mouth.

“if we’re... going to start being nice to each other i’m sorry for talking to you that way“, -- “you just get me so angry sometimes”.

you couldn’t believe your ears. choi beomgyu was apologizing. you swallow your pride and kiss him back.

“it’s going to take a long time for me... to get used to being nice to you but I’m willing to try“,--- “and I’m sorry for my attitude and the way I belittle you. I’ll work on it”.

beomgyu smirks. “because I own you right?”.

you roll your eyes and playfully scoff. “fine”.

#choi beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu smut #tomorrow by together #txt smut

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pterodactylterrace · 3 years ago

Text

Guys Like You ~ENDING~

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 20

Chapter Summary: My ill fated attempt to tie everything up nice and pretty and end on a positive note. In my head, this went a different way, but I decided to go the happy route for everyone

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of blood and childbirth

“I feel like a blimp.” Faye groaned, giving up on trying to fasten her sandals herself and plopping down on the bed instead.

“I think you’re gorgeous.” Henry soothed, straightening out his tie in the mirror and crouching down to help her with her shoes.

“I can’t see my feet.”

“They’re still here.” Henry chuckled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her swollen belly.

“What about my vagina?” Faye grouched, smoothing a hand along her bump.

“I plan on thoroughly investigating that later.” Henry purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Why not now?”

“Because we’ll be late if we do. Now come along, darling. We both know everyone is dying to see the bump.” Henry encouraged, standing and gently helping her to her feet. They had posted earlier that week to his Instagram about their newest addition. Just a picture of a Superman onesie, captioned “Baby Boy Cavill, coming early next spring.” To say it had blown up would be an understatement. This was going to be their first public outing since they had announced the pregnancy. Faye had gone back and forth several times on whether or not she had wanted to actually accompany him, ultimately deciding to spend the evening out with her fiancé.

“Carry me?” Faye whined, giving him a pouty look.

“I’ll carry you around all you like after the premiere. If we show up in wrinkled clothing, people may get the wrong idea.”

“Henry, I’m pretty sure they know we’ve been having sex.” Faye pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward her belly. “Plus, you’ve done a wonderful job of making sure I’m satisfied at all times.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Henry chuckled, placing a hand on her lower back to urge her to the door and quickly readjusting himself in his suddenly too tight trousers. This woman was going to be the death of him. All she had to do was allude to sex, and all the blood would rush straight to his groin. He was fairly certain she had trained his dick to get hard with just a look, not that he was complaining. He’d heard several men grumbling about how their partners didn’t want anything when they were expecting. He seemed to get lucky with the opposite. She’d been much friskier during her first trimester, but after she hit the halfway point, she was damn near insatiable.

“Now make sure you behave. Hands to yourself.” Henry murmured in her ear, the couple stopping just long enough to remind the babysitter that Briar had to be in bed by eight and to tell the little girl goodbye.

“You were joking about the hands to myself thing, right?” Faye questioned almost as soon as the driver had rolled up the partition.

“It’s been less than two hours.” Henry half laughed, tangling his fingers with her wandering digits.

“So? Are you really going to turn down getting busy?”

“Darling, we’ll make a mess right before we end up in front of a ton of cameras.” Henry pointed out, kissing the back of her hand lovingly. “Just try to contain yourself for a few more hours, then I’ll be yours all night.”

“All night?”

“All night.” Henry confirmed, kissing her temple adoringly and gently placing a hand on her swollen stomach. “You look beautiful.” Henry whispered, shamelessly staring at her cleavage.

“Don’t be a tease.” Faye pouted.

“My apologies, darling.” Henry chuckled, resting his cheek against her head.

~*~

“I’m not leaving this house again until this baby is born.” Faye declared dramatically as she flopped down on the couch.

“Does that mean you’ve decided on a home birth?” Henry asked, glancing up from the puzzle Briar was trying to put together.

“Yes.” Faye growled, glaring down at her extended belly. “Tell me, Mr. Cavill. Is there a particular reason you decided to put a gigantic baby in me? Hmm? Is this some sort of payback for something?”

“Darling, the doctor said he’s only slightly larger than average.”

“Baby brother is BIG!” Briar giggled.

“Yes, he is.” Faye agreed, pushing herself up from her slouched position. “He also likes to kick Mommy in the ribs.”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Henry cooed, pushing himself up from the floor to sit next to her on the couch.

“You should totally carry the next kid.” Faye grumbled, leaning against him.

“I would if I could, darling.” Henry assured, wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“My feet are swollen, my belly is huge, I’m pretty sure I just peed a little and all I can think about is oranges.” Faye grumpily listed off, wiggling her way to the edge of the couch and rocking herself to her feet.

“Oh…” Henry mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched the wet darkness rapidly spread across the back of her sweats and down her legs.

“Oh shit.” Faye gasped, staring in horror at the wetness soaking into her pants. “Oh fuck… Henry!” She yelled, trying to peer over her stomach to see her legs.

“Yes?” Henry asked unsurely as he stood himself up, intent on cleaning the mess before it soaked in anymore.

“I don’t think that was pee.”

“What?”

“That. Wasn’t. Piss.” Faye ground out, snapping her head around to look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to understand, darling.” Henry admitted, his brows pulling together as he studied her face. “Wait… you don’t mean?” Henry whispered, realization washing over his face. “But he’s not due for another couple of weeks!”

“Well, it looks like he was just as tired of waiting as I was!” Faye grumbled.

“Mommy, you had an accident.” Briar pointed out as she put the last piece in her puzzle, hopping to her feet and scampering off down the hall, assuring her mother she would find her something else to wear as she ran off.

“Ok… I’m not going to panic.” Henry promised, more to himself rather than to his fiancé. “I’m going to call the doula and the nanny. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“I’m not contracting, I can walk.” Faye pointed out.

“Just in case it starts, then.” Henry suggested, resting one hand on her lower back and taking her hand with the other, keeping pace beside his fiancé as she did an odd combination of a shuffle and a waddle to the bathroom.

“FUCK!” Henry shouted as soon as the door was closed, his heavy footsteps falling down the hallway as he ran back to the living room, frantically trying to locate his phone. “KAL!” Henry called, his wild eyes darting around the room. “Kal where’s my phone?!”

“KITCHEN!” Faye yelled from the bathroom, rolling her eyes to herself. “So much for not panicking.”

“Thank you, Kal!” Henry called back, his rapid steps sounding again as he crossed the house, snatching his phone from where it was peacefully charging on the counter, hitting the contact number for the doula and impatiently listening to it ring.

“He does know the dog can’t talk; I promise.” Faye sighed, shoving her wet clothes down and sitting on the toilet to kick herself free. “Papa’s just a little excited right now. He’s going crazy waiting to meet you.” She assured her swollen stomach.

“Faye?” Henry called softly from the other side of the door, slowly cracking it open and giving her an apologetic smile. “She’s asking questions I don’t know the answer to.”

“What does she want to know?” Faye asked, watching as he slowly slid his giant frame into the bathroom with her.

~*~

“You’re doing so good, darling.” Henry whispered, gently running his hands up and down his fiancé’s back. “Another one’s coming up, deep breath.” He instructed, his eyes flicking to his watch back to Faye. He gripped her hips firmly and dug his thumbs in right where she’d shown him so many contractions ago, rubbing in slow small circles to ease the pain in her back.

“I wanna get in the tub.” Faye groaned as the tightness in her belly began to ease.

“Alright, darling. I’m going to need you to stand up with me.” Strong arms wrapped around her and slowly helped to her feet; an adoring kiss being planted to the crown of her head. “Now I need you to walk with me, can you do that?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad between the contractions.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Henry assured, taking her small delicate hand into his calloused paw, slowly leading her to the bathroom. He let her rest against the sink as he fiddled with the taps, plugging the drain once the water had warmed.

“Fuck… Hen…” Faye hissed, her jaw clenching along with her distended abdomen.

“I’m right here, I’m right here.” Henry quickly took her back in his arms, letting her lean against him as he tried to find the spot on her back from the new angle.

“For fucks’ sake, how long has it been?” Faye groaned, helping Henry pull her shirt off and toss it onto the growing pile of laundry she was creating during her labor.

“Just over three hours.” Henry informed, biting his lip at his fiancé’s hopeless groan.

“That’s it?!”

“You’re doing so good.” Henry repeated, expertly unclasping her bra with one hand and casting it aside to help her step into the warm waiting water. He settled in next to the tub, holding his phone up where she could see it and pulling up one of her favorite shows, hoping to distract her.

~*~

“I wanna push.” Faye gasped, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the side of the tub, her entire body tense with a contraction.

“That’s great, that’s your body telling you you’re ready to have your baby.” The midwife assured, gently wiping her face with a wash rag. “You’re in charge here, how do you want to do this? Do you want to stay in the tub, or do you want to move somewhere else?”

“I’m staying.” Faye groaned, maneuvering herself to her knees with Henry’s help.

“You’re so close, darling.” Henry whispered, kissing her forehead adoringly, wincing slightly when her next contraction came, and her nails dug into his arm. “You’re doing so good.”

“Henry, I need you.” Faye hissed, desperate hands attempting to drag him into the tub with her. “Come here, please.” She pleaded, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he carefully lowered himself into the tub with her.

“I’m right here, darling. I’m right here.” Henry assured, rubbing her back softly, letting her lean into him as much as she wished. He paid no attention to the blood tinging the water or her nails digging into his shoulders. Instinct took over when Faye said she could feel the head coming. He reached between himself and his fiancé, gently cradling his son as he was pushed into the world.

“He’s here. He’s here.” Henry gasped after a final push, bringing the baby to his chest, quickly wrapping an arm around Faye’s shoulders to ease her back against the side of the tub.

“He’s here.” Faye breathed, a tired smile spreading across her face as Henry gently laid their son on her chest, peppering her forehead with adoring kisses and pushing her wet hair from her face.

“You did it, Faye.” Henry whispered, smiling down at the baby in her arms, his heart swelling with pride. She did that. His fiancé just brought a new life into the world. In that moment, he was simply blown away at just how strong she could be. It took almost all the mental focus he had remaining not to propose to her again, still crouching in the blood and goo filled water with her.

Reluctantly, Henry removed himself from the tub, taking a second to appreciate Faye’s demand of the oversized bathtub when they had renovated the bathroom. He was quick to rinse himself off in the other shower, throwing on dry sweats and returning to the bathroom where Faye was still gushing over their newest addition. The baby was handed to him while the midwife attended to his fiancé, draining the tub and gently rinsing away the sweat and mess clinging to her skin with a cool stream.

“He’s so tiny.” Henry whispered in awe, staring down at his minutes-old son.

“The hell he is!” Faye groaned, shooting him a look fit to kill.

“I think he agrees with you.” Henry grunted, his son’s chubby fist finding his chest hair and gripping it tightly, squirming his newly freed limbs the best he could in his tight swaddle.

“He’s only small compared to you.” The midwife compromised, Henry helping Faye step out of the tub with one arm, the other tightly cradling their son to his chest, hovering close as the midwife helped her to redress. “You have another child already, right? So, you know the bleeding is going to continue for a few weeks. Make sure you rest as much as you can. Now isn’t the time to be a hero. You’ve just gone through a lot; you need time to heal.”

“Can I have our son back now?” Faye asked, raising an amused brow at her already doting fiancé, who reluctantly handed the infant back to his mother.

“Rest, darling.” Henry reminded her, securing one arm around her rapidly deflated waist and holding her tight to his side, walking her back to their waiting bed, their son’s bassinet already pulled up close to her side.

“I wanna hold him a little more.” Faye pouted when Henry took the baby back, holding her hand to help her into bed the best he could.

“Lay down first. You’re getting shaky.”

“Then can I hold him?”

“I suppose, since you did just birth him an all.” Henry playfully sighed, handing off their son again and seating himself on the edge of the bed, content to just watch mother and child for the time being.

~*~

“Papa?” Briar yawned, shuffling into their room with her stuffed bunny in tow.

“Yes, princess?” Henry mumbled, already half asleep after changing his son and passing him back to his mother for a midnight feeding.

“He too noisy. Can you tell baby brother to be quiet? I can’t sleep.”

“You heard her, Liam. No more screaming in the middle of the night. You need to use your inside crying after 9pm.” Henry informed his young son, the only reply being his son’s usual cooing grunt as he continued to nurse.

“Sorry, Briar. He’s still little, he needs a lot of attention right now.”

“I like attention too.” Briar pouted, stubbornly climbing into their bed and perching herself on Henry’s stomach as she watched her mother.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Faye sighed, fighting the tears welling in her eyes.

“How about Mummy takes you to the park for a little bit tomorrow?” Henry suggested

“Liam is too little to be bringing out to a playground, Hen.” Faye pointed out, relatching the child when he stopped to stare at her nursing bra in confusion.

“So feed him right before you go, and again when you get home. You need a break from baby duty, babe.” Henry suggested, shifting Briar off his stomach to sit next to him instead.

“I wanna go, Mommy!” Briar whined, looking up at her mother hopefully.

“What if he gets hungry while I’m gone?”

“I know damn well you have extra in the fridge. It’s a bit of a surprise when you add some of that into your coffee in the morning by mistake, by the way.”

“So that’s why I was missing some.”

“I thought it was that ‘fancy’ cream you get from the farmer’s market. I was wrong.”

“It was in the same bottle, though.”

“You little…” Henry grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at her properly. “Why would you refill a container with milk that looks startlingly similar to what was in it in the first place? You set me up for failure!”

“Mommy, I sleep with you tonight?” Briar asked hopefully, blissfully ignorant to her parent’s playful discussion.

“No, baby. You’re not going to get any sleep in here with us. Baby brother wakes up too much at night.” Faye explained, glancing hopefully at Henry. Understanding what she was trying to tell him, Henry snatched the little girl up and rolled out of bed, smiling at her excited squealing as he carried her down the hall under his arm surfboard style.

“Do you want me to turn on your Baby Shark music?” Henry asked once she had been replaced in bed, Kal lazily licking at her ear when she rejoined him. He didn’t bother even waiting for an answer before flipping through her tablet, pulling up the hour long loop they usually played for her at bedtime.

“Kal wants ice cream.” Briar informed him, batting her lashes up at her father figure hopefully.

“Kal knows he can’t have ice cream. It’s too hard on his stomach.” Henry yawned, looking suspiciously at the canine.

“No, he wants it for me, silly.” Briar giggled.

“You know the rules, princess.” Henry sighed, brushing her hair from her face softly. “Now get some rest. We all love you.”

~*~

“Did we wait long enough? Do I still look like a slob?” Faye fretted, turning this way and that, her eyes fixed on her lower stomach, trying to see if it still protruded further than she wanted.

“Faye, relax. You look amazing.” Her sister assured, turning her away from the mirror. Briar was happily running in circles with her little flower basket, all too excited to be involved in the affair. Her twin sister was in a beautiful, blue floor length bridesmaid dress, her younger sister in a matching shorter dress and her brother struggling with the matching tie.

“Are you ready to marry?” Her mother asked her giddily, squeezing her daughter’s hand softly.

“I am. I really hope he is too.” Faye replied, stealing a glance at the closed door.

“Oh please, he was ready to marry you the first time he saw you.” Her brother scoffed, finally taming his tie into something passable. “You’ve been killing the poor guy making him wait this long.”

“I didn’t want to get married while I was pregnant.”

“I really don’t think he would have cared.” Her youngest sister pointed out. “He seems pretty convinced the sun shines out of your ass.”

“Hear that, Delilah?” Her brother jumped in, setting his teasing eyes on his sister. “Get you a man that looks at you the way Henry looks at her.”

“It’s the same way you look at pizza.” Their sister added.

“I’ll find someone when I want to.” Delilah grumbled, shooting her younger siblings a glare out of the corner of her eye.

It took the effort of three people to hold Briar back once the music started, all desperately explaining that she was going to be almost last to go. Once the time came, she threw all her flower petals on the ground at the start of the runner and then sprinted down to the other end while laughing wildly. It was deemed that was close enough and it was finally Faye’s turn to walk the aisle.

Her father’s arm was a steady, comforting constant, something she desperately needed in that moment. She could swear she saw a small tear forming in the corner of her husband-to-be’s eye, but mostly his face was one of proud surprise.

Niki was elected to hold the ‘ring bearer’ the baby happily drooling all over the ring box he was allegedly in charge of. The photographer went nuts with pictures when Henry gently pried the box from his son’s chubby fist, removing the ring from inside and handing him the box back to chew on.

The couple stared into each other’s eyes, everything else melting away in that moment as they both closed a chapter in their lives, only to begin a brand new one they hoped would be filled with adventure with two simple words.

“I do.”

Tags: @weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @packerfan43

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years ago

Text

Mess We Made - first (m)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: arranged marriage au (not bbh), doctor AU, highschool AU (first chapter only), university AU, fluff, ANGST

Words: 9.4K

WARNINGS: mature content, unprotected sex, cheating (not bbh), terrible family relations

Quick A/N: Finally, the anticipated full story for this drabble is coming! This will have more chapters! I am a bit self-conscious about this one. But I think it is a good challenge to grow as a writer. Hopefully it worked. Please let me know what you thought? ^^

Plot: You were willing to put the both of you through suffering without realizing you might hurt Baekhyun's feelings in the process. Even though he was yours, you were never his. And he would not stand in the way anymore.

tags: @byunfirstlady (hope you dont mind the tag; you were interest and since its been ages I tagged you to let you know 🥺 if you want to be tagged/untagged please reply to this post)

parts: first -- second -- third -- fourth (final)

Mess We Made, part 1

“Psst,” you heard from your right side as you walked through the corridors of your high school. Before you even managed to look in the direction of where the sound came from, a hand grabbed you, swiftly bringing you into the darkness of the corner, the cold wall pressing into your back. Baekhyun came into view with his breath-taking smile as his lips hovered over yours, stretched out in a mischievous smile. “It's me.”

Instantly, you grinned, mimicking his wide smile. “I was looking for you.”

“Well, I found you first,” he whispered, and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle manner.

He had been your boyfriend since the second half of the first year in high school. You were now both seniors, ready to graduate and enter your chosen universities. You both chose the same one, the idea of not being able to see each other too ugly to risk going to different schools.

You felt Baekhyun's hands slide down your sides, reaching the hem of your short uniform skirt and his feather-like touch made you squirm and laugh right into his mouth. He followed suit with giggles. “It tickles,” you said, and looked into his smiley eyes.

He hummed, though didn't stop his wandering hand as he massaged the upper part of your thigh, the touch sending trembles down your legs, your heartbeat growing frantic. “But you like it. When I touch you there.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, growing red. “Yeah. But only when it's you.”

These final months in high school were those moments when boys were becoming very horny, the skirts of the uniforms girls had to wear driving some of them crazy. Baekhyun, thankfully, wasn't as affected, though you were thinking if it was because he already had access to you. You would tear his head off if he tried to touch another girl, but he just wasn't that type of a guy.

Same went for you, too. Baekhyun had a sharp gaze and if he saw a guy trying to lift your skirt up, he would just deal with them in his hapkido language, and nobody wanted that. Baekhyun was a literal martial arts superstar of the school. And also a terrible nerd. He was cool and nerdy. What a combo.

While that was him, the smiling, mischievous boy many girls grew a humongous crush on, you were the more unfortunate one, though many would immediately disagree. A daughter to a huge business company, money was something that was never an issue, to put it lightly. Having your own personal driver, needing to attend pilates classes to keep your form, visiting a dermatologist at least twice per month, eating small portions… everything that would scream rich, was basically you, as much as you hated it.

The reason for your hatred was simple: you didn't belong to Baekhyun's world. Likewise, he didn't belong to yours. But how would that define anything, when both of you were literally all over each other at any given opportunity, feelings too strong to fight them? Did social status really mean something? Baekhyun was studying hard to become a doctor, wanting to bring children to this world, and he had one of the best grade averages in the entire institution. Meanwhile, you, of whom it was highly expected of, didn't have it like him. Studying was not exactly your forte, and you ended up following your parents requirements of applying for business school, so that you would study something that was running in the family. As long as they did not intervene in your relationship with Baekhyun, you would accept and agree to anything. But Baekhyun was untouchable. No matter what would happen, it couldn't, by any means, include him and you always made sure about it.

“'Cause you are mine,” he murmured in your ear seductively, and you melted in his arms.

“That, I am. Always,” you replied breathily, standing on your tiptoes to crash your lips on his before anyone could catch you not spending the break outside of the building.

You just wanted to spend time with him before your family would whisk you away from him, like they always did. Rarely have you had the power to decide your free time, sitting at your father's meetings, mothers cocktails, boredly listening to conversations about money transactions that made you feel uneasy.

“Plans for tonight?” he asked as he gave your thigh a final squeeze before letting go, patting your skirt back down to its normal form.

You hummed, leaning back on the wall lazily, your chest pushed out. “Grandparents are coming over. From mother’s side,” you said, already tired at the idea of the dreadful encounter.

Baekhyun nodded, though you could sense he was a bit disappointed. He never said anything, though. It was safe to say he was used to the way things were working with your family. After all, it had been two years by now. Two years of your relationship. And with each passing moment, the both of you seemed to grow even fonder of each other. He never complained. He loved you.

“Sorry,” you sighed again, closing your eyes for a moment when you felt his palm on your cheek that forced you to open them again, his gaze gentle. He leaned in, nudging you with his nose.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, love.”

“Of course there is,” you replied passionately. “I really want to spend more time with you, Baekhyun.”

“You will. We will be together. Once university starts-”

“Can you understand that you consume my thoughts every second? And when I am not with you, the time just drags and it's like a small hell because I cannot see your face-”

Baekhyun kissed you, interrupting your small outburst. You moaned quietly, shyly, bringing him closer by his tie. He played with your lips, teasing you with his tongue, but he wouldn't go further than that. You were in school and as much as he was mischievous, he wouldn't go that far. “I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled brightly. “I love you, too.”

“And I will wait for you no matter how long it takes, okay? Don't feel sorry. I should study anyway,” he shrugged nonchalantly as if it really weren’t a big deal.

You smiled proudly while massaging his ear with your hand. “Always responsible, my prince.”

Just like you knew he would be, your driver was waiting for you, his face typically devoid of any emotions as you trudged to the school gates, ignoring the snickering gazes of students scattered around the entrance. Baekhyun was with you, hand in hand and just before you would reach the car, you stopped to kiss him goodbye.

“Text me,” you demanded, looking into his eyes.

He nodded, and his long hair fell into his eyes. “I will.”

Not wanting to let go just yet, you took the opportunity and brushed his soft hair out of his eyes while he gently gazed into yours.

“Promise me you won’t go against your parents,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet and hushed.

You focused on him, slowly retreating your hand from his hair. “What do you mean?” you asked, despite having a very good hunch. He knew your family very well, if not from what you have told him already, then from the experiences of when you would bring him home to study together and his parents would be cold and heartless, especially to you, not accepting your relationship with Baekhyun at all.

He sighed and looked somewhere else for a moment, letting the surroundings absorb in his mind before facing you. “I don’t want something happening to you. It just seems to me that the more you go against them, the more they will push you, mentally or physically. And I don’t want that.”

His worries made you feel warm. Someone actually cared for your well-being, unlike other people you were blood-related to. “I will be a good girl, hm?” you murmured, hearing your driver opening his door to get out, obviously impatient. “I will obey. For you.”

Baekhyun nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s the talk. Now go, before Mr Lee loses his cool,” he said, stepping away from you and nudging his head towards your driver who already opened your car door, obviously urging you to hurry.

You pressed your lips together and waved at your boyfriend one more time before turning and sliding inside the car, the door shutting loudly behind you, voicing the driver's dissatisfaction with your attitude.

Even if you wanted to wave at Baekhyun, you knew he wouldn’t see you. The windows were completely black.

You were dressing up for the dreaded dinner when your mother entered your room. Without knocking, of course. She looked at your dress of dark-red colour combined with a cute black bow on your back. The A skirt was hugging your curves just the right way and the hem stopped in the middle of your thighs that were covered in black stockings. Stylish, you thought.

“Slutty,” was what she said, frowning, her forehead wrinkled into three layers of skin. “Change it.”

You looked at her from behind your shoulder, sending her a poker face before facing your mirror again. “I like it. I won’t change it.”

Your mother sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re ridiculous. Who are you dressing up for? Your lover boy isn’t coming tonight.”

“And whose fault is that?” you fired back, hating whenever they as much as mentioned him. He was too good to be pronounced in their mouths. “It ain’t mine, mother. So stop irking me!”

“Watch your tone,” she said in a low voice before sighing deeply and shaking her head. “Listen. Your grandfather and grandmother will be here soon, so change. You know they are very conservative.”

“I’m not even showing skin,” you muttered, frustrated.

“You’re still a high school student. You aren’t supposed to be looking like this.”

Swiftly turning around, you walked to her slowly. “I’m not supposed to be having a chest? A butt? I am still growing, you know. Out of all people, you should know.”

“You have those because you eat more than you should and thanks to your boyfriend you are more horny than it’s okay for someone your age which leads you to have a big appetite,” she deadpanned. “So cover yourself up. This is not a strip club.”

Your mouth fell open, complete disbelief widening your eyes. She must have not been serious. But you knew she was, so what was more annoying was the fact that you still got angry and you still fought back, despite knowing their preferences for years. You tried to ignore the sting in your chest when she talked about food and about the way your body naturally worked. You were a hormonal teenager. Why couldn’t she understand?

Quickly remembering the promise you made to Baekhyun, you collected yourself and, although in pain, you nodded. But before you could answer, your mother continued: “Besides. Given the nature of our get-together today, you do need to look more responsible.”

That made you frown in confusion. “What does that mean?”

She smiled, though it was rather smug than anything else. “You will find out soon enough.”

“Mum!”

“Change,” she commanded, something dark flashing in her eyes before she walked out of the room.

Annoying tears burned in your eyes, and you quickly grabbed your phone, wanting to complain to Baekhyun, but he beat you to it and you found messages from him sent only a couple of minutes ago that immediately pacified your wild emotions.

i’m thinking of you ❤️ always

even now

and even now

and now too

gorgeous 😘🥰

You smiled through your tears, the need of wanting to be with him growing by tenfold. He melted all the negative emotions you had in yourself and you sat down on your bed, your eyes scanning the texts, the emoticons, and then the picture you had for him. He was being silly on it, wearing your sunglasses and pretending to be a girl group member looking seductive.

With a final look, you nodded to yourself, determined to follow what you had promised.

Changing into a white shirt politely tucked into a black pencil skirt with your hair strictly tied into a knot, you looked like any worker in your father's company; not standing out, conservative and a little bit numb.

Only one thing was eating you away as you made your way downstairs to the huge dining hall, your parents already welcoming your grandparents whose eyes gave you a strict look over.

The nature of this dinner.

What could that be?

All of the dinners had something into it. Your parents never did anything just for the sake of doing it. If there wasn’t something profitable in the action, they would never bother. But what did they want from your grandparents?

“Oh, finally you decided to show up. What are these manners, letting your old folks wait for you, hm?” Your grandmother’s words sounded like crow’s wailing. Annoying, terribly annoying.

“Excuse me. Had to dress up properly for your company,” you replied in a calm tone, not paying attention to her nagging. You walked up to them and bowed politely, respecting them.

Your grandma scoffed, frowning at you while your grandfather’s eyes crinkled up a bit in a small smile, though he didn’t say anything besides nodding once to acknowledge your polite greeting.

“Let’s just sit, shall we?” your father voiced, motioning to the prepared dining table adorned in a cream table cloth. “Before the food gets cold.”

“Yes, yes, we have things to discuss anyway,” rasped your grandmother as she sat down.

Your father was at the head of the table while your mother and you sat on his right, your grandparents on the opposite site. You ended up facing your grandfather for which you were thankful. He was one of the less evil. In fact, he barely ever showed any interest in the happenings around the dirty business your family was involved in.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t know about him and your evil grandma. You had been secluded from any warm interaction since young age, so you never even bothered asking how they met and how they fell in love. How did grandfather even deal with someone like her was beyond your understanding.

Once your mother started talking in her superior tone, you concluded that your grandfather still managed to raise up someone like your mother. He probably wasn’t any better than the rest of the family.

“We have been in close contact with the rival company,” she started and you suppressed the need to roll your eyes.

Servants put all the food in front of you; seaweed soup, lots of side dishes, meat, fish, rice, rice cakes and corn tea. You usually liked the food but given you had to listen to another business talk, you lost your appetite.

“Their son is already in his thirties, so they requested the marriage as soon as our daughter is out of high school.”

You jumped in your seat, knocking your knee in the table rather painfully. You didn’t have time to curse and look at your mother, who continued talking as if nothing was happening: “Obviously we need to finish this deal before any more losses could happen to our business. Their company is overflowing with profit-“

“What are you talking about?” you snapped, not watching your tone that came out rude.

Your father frowned. “Your attitude is honestly disappointing. How can you talk to your mother in that to-“

“I am not getting married to anyone!” you shouted, growing hot-headed, your knee throbbing in pain. “I-I have a university to attend soon! How can I marry before getting a degree?! And I have a boyfriend-“

Your mother laughed drily. “How on earth can you even consider that boy?” she said, looking at you with utmost calmness. “He is just a middle-class boy.”

Your grandmother and father joined her in chuckles. “Don’t be silly,” said your grandmother. “It’s just a high school crush. It’s always about experimenting and not understanding what love is. Silly teenager stuff.”

“What do you know about love?” you asked doubtfully, turning to your grandmother with a death glare to which she returned it back.

“How dare you question your elders?! Calm down this instant and listen!”

If it were possible, fumes would be coming out of your nose and ears. You couldn’t believe what you just heard was true. It couldn’t be. You wouldn’t allow it.

“Besides,” started your father in a scolding manner, “you are not good at studies. We agreed to let you attend the university you chose, but your studies will be fruitless since you didn’t study as you were told to. You aren’t a man either,” he scoffed and gave a side eye to your mother who now froze. “But that isn’t your fault that you weren’t born a man. That’s someone else’s.”

Completely at loss for words, you fell back in your chair, devastated at what you just heard. Not only he degraded you, but he now attacked your mother.

In a sudden need to defend your mother as a woman rather than as your parent, you snapped: “It’s the amount of sperm that a man manages to put into a woman that decides the gender. If it’s anyone’s fault that I am a girl, it’s yours!”

Everyone went silent at what you just said, your father so shocked his mouth hung open. He blinked a few times, regaining his posture but you were already standing up. “I am not marrying anyone! I already have a boy-“

“So you do all the dirty stuff with this boyfriend of yours and that’s why your mouth is so nasty!” came your father’s voice like a thunder.

“She needs to break up with him. He is no good influence on her,” butted in your grandmother nonchalantly as she slurped her seaweed soup.

You snapped your eyes to her, and to your grandfather who was frowning down at his empty plate.

“I won’t break up with Baekhyun.”

“Then keep your delusions up. But once you're out of high school, the ceremony will take place,” said your mother resolutely, sending daggers your way.

“I don’t want to do anything with your business,” you now said in despair. “I don’t want to own your company!”

Your father snickered drily in disgust. “You won’t own our company, daughter. You’re useless as it is, so we are going to merge the companies. That’s the only way we can save our hard work.”

You shook your hair. “No, I refuse!”

“You don’t have a choice,” shrugged your mother now turning back to her plate. “You can do whatever you want, but your fate is in our hands. That’s why,” she emphasized and looked at you, “for your own good, break up with your boyfriend. He is no good news. Save yourself the heartbreak. He is with you for the money anyway.”

You stood frozen, keeping the gasp in. Tears were spilling out of your eyes and you turned around, running back to your room, sobs leaving your mouth.

You always knew your family was a nightmare - cold, scary, emotionless. But this was too much for your young self.

All you wanted was warmth, safety and honest emotions.

All of those were what Baekhyun offered you.

He was more than just a boyfriend.

He was love.

That night, you didn't call Baekhyun, instead deciding to text him back to let him know that everything went fine. He was studying anyway, and if you wanted something, it was for him to become successful in a field that he was passionate about. Unlike you, who barely had any hobbies, let alone passions.

Finally crying yourself to sleep around 3am, your alarm went off too early in the morning, a strong headache first thing you felt as you turned off the blaring thing.

Sighing, you fell back on the comfortable pillows, their lavender smell engulfing your senses and momentarily offering a calming pat on your headache. Closing your eyes, you felt your eyes well up again, the idea of having to break up with Baekhyun just not adding up in your mind. How could you do that? Why would you deprive yourself of the only source of light you had in your life? For someone you never even met. Someone who seemed to be much, much older than you.

“I'm not doing it,” you whispered into the stillness of your room, your voice hoarse. Tears slid out of your eyes and down your sides until they tickled your ears. “I'm not.”

And with that, you faced your day; you washed up, put on your uniform, packed the necessary books and headed out, not saying your morning greetings, nor eating breakfast. Ignoring your surroundings, you went out not even waiting for your driver. You decided you will take the mundane route to school that day: bus and metro like Baekhyun did everyday.

“Hey, are you okay?” Someone’s fingers appeared in the line of your vision. Fingers all too familiar.

You looked up to see a worried Baekhyun, his shirt untucked and his tie loosen-up around his neck giving him the typical goofy, laid-back look that lived up very well to his personality. You managed to smile. “Yeah, just tired. Didn’t get to sleep much.”

“And why is that?” he asked, taking the closest seat to yours, looking around to check if the owner of the seat wasn’t there. When you pursed your lips, debating what to say, he added gently: “What is bothering you, hm? You know you can tell me.”

Releasing probably the nth sigh of that day, you closed your eyes for a moment before looking at him. “Let’s talk after school maybe. It’s not something to discuss here.”

Baekhyun nodded but you saw the rapid thinking his mind drifted off to. He could sense trouble, especially with your family. “Alright, let’s do that. But your driver-“

“He didn’t drive me to school, so he won’t be driving me from school,” you said in a monotone and Baekhyun raised an eyebrow at that.

“How did you come to school?”

You shrugged. “Like you do everyday. Public transport.”

Slowly, his mouth stretched to a soft, lopsided smile, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Enjoyed it?”

You mimicked his smile, his touch easing up the tension you couldn’t get rid of since last night. “Yeah, thoroughly. Only you were missing. Then it would be perfect.”

His smile only grew and you turned your head slightly, kissing his hand before he retracted it, keeping the eye contact while he kissed the same spot your lips touched on his hand.

You watched in small awe and you giggled when he added a louder smooch. “You’re unbelievable.”

He let out a laugh, standing up when the bell rang. “But you love me.” He squeezed your shoulder.

“That I do.”

After that, you couldn’t focus any more in any of the classes. Once again it was proved that you wouldn’t be able to even imagine your life without Baekhyun next to you. Yes, the idea of marriage was scary but you’d marry him. In an instant.

Finally coming up with a way to make something out for yourself and of that damn deal your parents made, you slipped out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang announcing the end of your last class of that day. Quickly pulling out your phone, you hid in the toilets and dialed your mother's phone who lazily picked up after countless attempts.

“What.”

So you were still in a war zone. “If I am to get married,” you started without further ado, “he can not touch me. And I won’t be breaking up with Baekhyun.”

It was silent for a moment before your mother let out a laugh. “Oh, honey. We do want you to finish university first before anything else will happen.”

She didn’t add anything more which confused you. “Okay, either way, I won’t be breaking up with Baekhyun.”

“Do whatever you deem correct. Though I bet he won’t like you getting married to someone else? Didn’t you always say how loyal he was?”

You grit your teeth. “Why do you suddenly care about his loyalty?” you hissed, pacing in the small toilet space. “That isn’t your business. You will always get what you want and I already said I will comply but on my terms.”

“Your terms are cheating on your husband? Or on your boyfriend? I really don’t know where this attitude comes from in you. Neither me nor your father are like that-“

Before she could finish, you burst out laughing. “What? You aren’t like that? Don’t be delusional, mother. You’re trying to marry me off for your own profit!” you exclaimed, raising your voice. “The only thing I am asking - no, I am going to do it whether you like it or not. I will be with Baekhyun. I’ll be with him until he breaks up with me.” Because there was no way you would do it.

Your mother was silent for a moment and then she sighed. “Do as you want. As long as you sign the papers…” she trailed off. “I have a meeting now. Let’s discuss once we are home.” And she ended the call.

You realized you were trembling only when you finally let your hand dangle next to your body, already tired from the fights.

At least she didn’t say anything against the idea.

You took it as a positive sign.

You didn’t go home that night. Baekhyun suggested to sleep over at his house and you gladly agreed. It wouldn't be the first and certainly not the last time. His parents knew you well and you always felt their warm welcome whenever Baekhyun brought you home with him. His mother was a great cook and whenever you saw her, you were reminded of Baekhyun's kind smile.

“Are you staying for the night?” asked his mother with a laugh when you greeted her with a polite bow.

You smiled shyly, nodding and looking up at Baekhyun who was gazing down at you encouragingly. “Yes, if that is okay, auntie.”

“Of course! It's Friday night anyway. My son just keeps studying and not living his young life properly so please, be our guest.”

“Thank you,” you smiled and she said she would prepare a late dinner for you while you and Baehyun went to his room to change into something more comfortable.

“Could you borrow me some of your clothes?” you asked once in his room as you were working on unbuttoning your uniform's shirt and watched shirtless Baekhyun roam in his drawer for your favourite shirt of his.

“Here you go,” he said, coming up to you with the shirt and joggers, but instead of handing them to you, he just put them on the bed and mumbled a soft: “Let me.”

His fingers took over the unbuttoning process, and you closed your eyes at the feathery touch of his hands as he uncovered more skin. When he was reaching your stomach, he paused and you cracked your eyes open, finding him gazing at you intently before his eyes fell to the middle of your breasts that were exposed. He unbuttoned the last two buttons swiftly and then pushed his hands inside the shirt, dragging his fingertips over your hips and waist, tapping each bone of your ribcage until he slid his hands up to your shoulders, sliding the material off. “You want to keep your bra?” he asked, almost as if he wasn't breathing loudly, mimicking your rapidly rising and falling chest.

Shaking your head gently, you mumbled a soft no before he nodded in acknowledgement and with one hand unclasped the bra. He stepped even closer, your nose almost touching his broad and very naked chest. You felt his breath on your cheek as he whispered, pulling on the straps of your bra: “May I?”

Swallowing harshly, you nodded and looked up at him to find his fiery gaze intently set on you. When he pushed the straps off your shoulders and your bra fell to the floor, you shivered at the cool air hitting the hot skin as Baekhyun's fingers were back again, dragging them from your back through your underarms until he reached the sides of your breasts. His breathing was irregular, hot puffs hitting your face while you whimpered softly, egging him on to finally grab you.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered shakily and you let out a loud sigh when he finally took a hold of your mounds, squeezing them gently in his palms.

You brought your arms around his neck, stretching the skin on your chest and you kissed him hungrily, the heat in your core growing almost painful for not being satisfied as you so badly wished you would be.

Baekhyun pushed his tongue into your mouth, going for a dirty kiss right away as he gave a final, stronger squeeze to your breasts before letting them go, bringing his hands down to your backside, bunching up your skirt in lust. He let out a satisfied moan when he grabbed the meat, his finger momentarily sliding inside and between your thighs. You were fast to break the kiss, needing air and also needing to whine because you needed him so badly.

His naked torso pressed now to yours, his hands cheekily teasing you and grabbing you, he was all about games.

“Baekhyun, the food is ready! Come quickly before it gets cold!” shouted his mother down the hallway, thankfully not coming to Baekhyun's room. You froze in his arms nonetheless to which he chuckled.

“Relax,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck. “She knows not to disturb when my door is closed and you are with me.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, you let go of him just when he did.

“Once we are back,” he said, helping you put on his big t-shirt. “I will take care of that wetness down there. Seems pretty severe.”

You quirked an eyebrow, looking at the tent that was asking for attention over his joggers. “You sound so unaffected.”

He looked down just where your eyes were set and chuckled as if it was nothing. “Oh, sweetie, it's always like this when I'm with you. I just can't help it,” he said and leaned in, biting your earlobe. “You bring out the man in me.”

Everything was a long lost dream and you should have known it. Things you imagined and desired were not what the reality had in store for you, and it just made it more difficult for you to face Baekhyun. Even when you went on the last high school trip where you had the biggest fun, made the most exciting memories, sneaking behind the group to steal a small kiss, even all of that was not able to lighten up your damp mood. Somehow, it was possible for you to fake it, but you would have been dumb if you ever thought Baekhyun believed your words or smiles. He could sense trouble from miles and given the nature of your family, he was always well-aware of how many troubles could grow overnight in your household. He just wouldn't know the severity of the problem. And you weren't planning to tell him, just like you promised yourself and your mother, not until Baekhyun would break up with you.

And right now, it was your graduation day.

The D-day had come when you would have to say goodbye to all your friends, even the fake ones, and you would be a little closer to losing Baekhyun. Except you wouldn't know it would happen that fast.

“Congratulations!” squealed Baekhyun's mother who was fast to hug Baekhyun and you both at the same time, squeezing you to her chest. Your face was pushed into the colourful bouquet of flowers that smelled wonderfully - but from a distance. You tried to squeeze your eyes shut but you just looked down, catching Baekhyun's worn-out converse sneakers.

Baekhyun snorted a laugh when he saw your face in the freezias, and gently pushed you away from his mother to protect you. As you straightened up, you managed to scrunch your face just in time to sneeze.

“Oh dear, I'm so sorry,” giggled Baekhyun's mother and even his father chuckled from behind her which made your heart warm up.

“It's alright, auntie,” you waved your hand, feeling your eyes watering up but you laughed nonetheless because - how could you ever be mad at such a sweet woman who was the only person on Earth to have the right to call Baekhyun hers? As much as you wished, you were nowhere near close to have the right for him to be yours. And maybe you would never be. “Looking at you, I wonder how was my son able to sweep you off of your feet! You're so beautiful!”

You smiled shyly and felt Baekhyun's soft gaze on you, ready to reach out for your hand before his mother pushed the bouquet into his arms. “This is for you, son, and this is for you, my dear,” she said, giving you one as well.

Just when you were about to thank her politely and bow, your mother's cold voice interrupted the merry atmosphere, your happy smile dying down as you turned to face her, your father and a- stranger? A man, to be exact.

“Here you are,” she said, sending a cold smile towards Baekhyun's parents, ignoring your boyfriend altogether. She stepped closer so she wouldn't be overheard, and muttered: “I guess your wishes will come true soon.” She leaned back and you followed her with your eyes as she stepped aside. “Mr Kwon, please meet my daughter,” she introduced you before continuing, “and this is Mr Kwon Minheob, your fiancée. Greet him properly!” she ordered but you didn't even process what she said.

Standing frozen, your arms were about to let go of the bouquet you just received were it not for Baekhyun who was fast enough to get the flowers out of your grasp. “Oh, that's great news! I'll take these for you!” he exclaimed with a smile and you looked at him with pure horror in your eyes. “Congrats by the way! I will miss you as my classmate!” he added and quickly bowed to your parents. “I'll see you around someday!” And with that, he turned and left.

In that instance, many things were swirling around in your brain - complete, utter shock, overwhelm, fear, heartbreak. What did Baekhyun just do? Why did he say that? And where was he going-

“Nice to meet you,” said the older male with a deep voice. You turned your stare back at him, hearing your heart beating in your ears. “What a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard a lot about you and your studies. It is so nice of you to lower yourself and your status and attend a regular high school with ordinary people. I believe we will have a lot in common.” He finally uncrossed his hands from behind his back and you found a pastel pink bag dangling off of his somewhat thick fingers. “And this is my congratulatory present for you. Congratulations on graduating high school.”

Once again, you just stared at the bag, unable to make your own hand move and accept the gift with a polite bow like you were expected to. The only thing ringing in your mind was Baekhyun and him only. He found out much sooner than he was supposed to and you hated yourself because he was most probably hating you right now. What was worse - his parents were there, too. They all saw it when it all seemed like you were just about to stay with their son forever. Yet, your family, as always, ruined it all and you weren't sure if you would recover.

Looking up to the tall, grown man, it didn't take you a lot to know he was far from anyone you could have feelings for, ever. The words he just spoke, the malice he said them with, was everything you were standing for. Obviously, he was no one you could have things in common with.

Your father stepped next to you and, painfully, pinched your side, making you gasp and automatically reach out for the gift with a low bow. His fingers were squeezing your skin through your dress and it rushed tears in your eyes, but you blinked them away while accepting the gift and staring at the polished shoes of Kwon Minheob.

“Nice to meet you,” you mumbled, straightening up. The gift bag felt heavy in your hand but you tried not to pay too much attention to it. Eventually, your father also removed his hand from your back and he gave you a pressed smile, though you didn't look at him. “Congratulations, our daughter. Now we can go all to our house and have a good di-”

“I'm sorry, but I still have, eh, friends to greet and meet,” you said, “we also all agreed to have our last meal together as a class,” you added, looking up to meet your father's eyes. You weren't lying; the entire class wanted to meet and have chicken and beer. Preferably spend the time loudly somewhere in a good restaurant.

He shot you a dissatisfied scowl, but you held his gaze. “Until when? You won't be meeting them anyway, why waste time?”

“Exactly,” pressed your mother and smiled brightly at Mr Kwon, who kept observing you with quite an unreadable expression. “And we have Mr Kwon to entertain.”

Quite literally you thought you would start wailing right then and there; everyone was going against you, nobody seeming to listen to your words. Just when you felt tears prickle your eyes, Mr Kwon spoke up and surprised all of you.

“That is not necessary,” he declared, giving a curt smile towards your parents, “she is still young and should enjoy her classmates one last time. I suppose it will be difficult to do it once they all go their own way,” he said in a diplomatic voice, looking at you the entire time. It took a lot in you not to flinch and shudder under his gaze. “So go and enjoy, miss, and I will meet you soon to have a more private conversation with you.” You nodded quickly, though blood was already draining from your face at the idea of what he suggested. Mr Kwon turned to your parents. “I will leave you to entertain your daughter and I will reach out soon.”

Before anyone else could say another word, he gave a short bow and disappeared in the mass of people.

“You do realize-” your mother started, but you were fast to push the bag into her chest, not caring whether she caught it or not, and dashing for the direction that Baekhyun disappeared into.

Of course you were aware how much you would get scolded once you actually faced your parents, but right now you couldn't care less. It was better to get scolded, but losing Baekhyun or even making him hurt just the tiniest of bits made you resent yourself.

And so you pushed past crowds, stopping to say hi, keeping an eye out for any coconut head out there with a family that shone brighter than yours would ever shine. Just when you were about to lose it and start straight up crying in the middle of the crowd, you felt a hand intertwining with yours and you just knew. He didn't turn you around, but you felt his body behind yours and it was you who turned, facing him with a scared expression.

“Baekhyun,” you whimpered. Seeing his kind smile made you want to slap him because why was he like that after what he heard?

“Hm? Want to tell me about it now?” he asked gently and combed your hair out of your face, his smile growing by an inch. “Pretty.”

You took a deep breath, shakiness overtaking your legs from unwanted pressure. “It isn't what you think it is.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don't want to marry him,” you said and this time, your tears rapidly grew in your eyes and were rolling down your cheeks. “I-I-I never… I mean, not yet. I did-didn't know he would come, I never saw him before and-”

“Shhh, calm down,” he hushed, bringing your face to his chest, hugging you to himself. “Let's talk about it another time.”

“No,” you said, hiccuping, “I am not losing you, Baekhyun.”

“You aren't.” “I'm not losing you,” you repeated, closing your eyes and pressing your face more into him, taking a deep breath of his scent, feeling up his warmth and presence. “I'm not losing you.”

He called your name gently. “It's fine. Don't cry, hm? You know I can't stand seeing you cry. I am not mad and I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered urgently into your ear.

“I just hate my family so much,” you mumbled into his chest. Baekhyun's shirt must have been stained by make-up by then, but neither of you cared. “And I don't want their terrible attitude to damage you.”

“It won't damage me. You are important to me, you. Look at me, hm? Look at me, darling.”

You sniffed and stepped away a little, tilting your head so you could see his kind eyes. He cooed, reaching up to run his thumbs under your eyes. “My little raccoon. Let's enjoy today, alright? Just us. And our classmates,” he added with a little laugh.

You smiled weakly, nodding. Anything Baekhyun wanted, he would get from you.

Your entire class hoarded into a chicken restaurant in Hongdae, the loud cheers and chatterings making many people turn in interest to look at you. You sat down around your girlfriends while you let, though reluctantly, Baekhyun join his pals. Even though you would exchange reassuring looks here and there, you still felt incredibly anxious about the incident earlier. In fact, you were so swallowed up by the idea of losing Baekhyun that you didn't even think about the actual fiancée, Mr Kwon.

But instead of focusing on that, you decided to enjoy tonight, for you knew events like these won't be coming up for you anytime soon. If anything, your freedom was close to gone.

“I am going to start my own clothing brand,” started one of your classmates that was sitting next to you, munching on her piece of chicken meat. She went on spilling many details that didn't add up in your brain, though you listened carefully to every word she said.

“You don't have your degree yet,” you replied eventually and took a gulp of your coke.

“Funny, coming from someone like you,” she snickered, “you can decide you want to own an island and you will.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes but your classmate just shrugged.

“I can assure you she won't,” came in Baekhyun's voice. “I know it pretty well, since I'm her boyfriend.”

The girls exchanged looks. They all had a secret crush on him, so his words made them a little embarrassed. “Would you even marry her?” they teased.

“I would. In a heartbeat,” was his answer and you looked at him with huge eyes, your mouth that was slightly oily from the chicken hanging open, your heart frantically beating in your chest.

The entire table hollored and whistled, and you caught your boyfriend smiling proudly at you, eventually sending a confident wink. He tapped his mouth with his index finger and then pointed at you. You felt your lips stretch instantly, because you knew he meant “close your mouth”.

“Whew, you really are lucky,” muttered the girl next to you, changing the topic completely.

His hand was intertwined with yours once again as you were slowly walking along the Han river. Ttukseom Han river park was, as always, busy with young people. It gave a great view on Gangnam and Cheongdam that were lying on the opposite side, the city lights of the tall buildings reminding you how life revolved around money and basically anything that smelled even the slightest of capitalism. You found yourself despising all of it.

“Cat stole your tongue?” muttered Baekhyun playfully into the chilly air as he swayed your connected hands.

“Just… thinking,” you replied and made sure your sides were brushing.

He didn't reply, instead letting silence overtake again, but you knew he was curious. He wanted to, and deserved, to know.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, looking at the dark water.

“Did I mean what?”

“That you would marry me in a heartbeat,” you said softly, scared to actually pronounce those words. They sounded so unnatural, for some reason, despite them mirroring everything you ever wanted in life. “What you said during dinner.”

“Yes, I meant it and you know it, too, sweetheart,” he said, shaking your hand.

You smiled to yourself. If you wouldn't spill the beans now, you would probably never find the guts to talk about the main issue that was simmering like the water in a pressure cooker. “My parents want me to marry that man for business. Something along merging their companies or whatever,” you started. “I found out a while ago but I was fighting them. And then you made me promise to obey,” you sighed, feeling the well-known dread eating up your insides, “and I had to agree. But I don't want to.”

“So that's why you weren't yourself,” he muttered more to himself than to you, and he stopped walking so he could look at you properly. When you wouldn't meet his eye, too ashamed, he put his index finger under your chin and made you tilt your head up. “Why didn't you just tell me from the beginning?”

“Baekhyun,” you whispered in disbelief, “how could I? It isn't some news about apples growing backwards.”

He chuckled. “Well, you have to admit, that would make the headlines.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He let out another chuckle through his nose and slid his hand up so he could cup your cheek lovingly while thinking over his next words. “When are you supposed to marry him?”

You swallowed. “Maybe after uni? I … I never wanted to talk to them, so I don't know exactly… I insisted after university graduation.”

He hummed, running his thumb over your lower lip, his gaze focused on the way he parted your lips. “So, we have four more years?”

You pursed your lips, not liking the idea of having limited time with Baekhyun. “Of course not. I will always be with you.”

He sighed, and eventually dropped his hand on your shoulder; you tried not to feel disappointed. “I think this is more complicated than you think, love.”

“How is it complicated, Baekhyun?” you asked stubbornly. “I love you. I saw that man today for the first time in my life. How can I marry someone I don't know and barely ever saw? He is almost twice my age, Baekhyun. You know this is not okay and you also know it doesn't make any sense.”

“And you know business is anything but emotions,” was his fast reply.

“I don't care about their business.”

“And they don't care that you don't care.”

“Bu-but I just don't care! I will be with you behind his back and-”

“And how would that make me feel?” he fired back, now both of you slowly getting heated up from the small exchange of opinions. Baekhyun just asked something you never wanted him to utter. If you were to talk about him, of course, he was the victim. He'd become a secret lover; the forbidden fruit.

When you didn't reply, he nodded, his hand falling off your shoulder. “I understand.”

“Baekhyun, let's talk about this step by step,” you tried, reaching for his hand which he, thankfully, didn't retreat. “We still have a long time until any of those things could even happen. Maybe it won't happen - and I will try my best not to let it happen. But let it not affect our present. Please,” you added with urgency, looking into his warm eyes.

When Baekhyun was troubled or sad, his eyes seemed to become even more down-ward than they already were. This time, it was no exception and you wanted to reach out and make the wrinkles go away but you didn't. “Let me just think this matter through, alright?” he murmured eventually.

You pressed your lips together and nodded while you stepped close to him, snaking your arms around his waist. He gladly took you in, letting out a deep sigh as he hugged you to him and kissed the top of your head. “It will be okay.”

“May I sleep at yours tonight?” you mumbled into his shoulder after a moment of silence. “I just cannot imagine going back to that hell.”

He rubbed your back gently. “Of course. My mum is already expecting us. We shouldn't disappoint her.”

You leaned back a bit and stood on your toes to press your lips to his. “You're the best.”

And so, after walking a little bit longer and enjoying the faraway noise of the busy roads and nightlife Seoul, you slowly made your way back to the metro station, heading for Baekhyun's house, and your safety.

The both of you were lying on his bed, his parents long asleep, the quietness of the apartment giving you a sense of safeness. Baekhyun had a book open on his lap while you were doodling something you weren’t sure what was yet. Manual work seemed to preoccupy your mind enough and sadly, even with Baekhyun next to you, you couldn’t find your peace of mind.

“Aren’t you tired yet?” whispered Baekhyun and looked at you, and on the paper to see what you were so focused on. “It’s already 1am. Your parents will want you home early-“

Your sigh interrupted him and you put down the pencil rather harshly as you sat up properly to face him. “Since when do you care about them? You know I will go home whenever I want to. I don’t care, so you shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble, okay?” he said back, his voice quiet but low. “There has been enough drama.”

“What worse can happen? They want me to let go of you. That is the worst punishment for me.”

Baekhyun’s gaze softened and he also sat up properly to face you. “I know. I can’t lose you either. And I wasn’t intending on that. I meant that they might lock you up and then I won’t be able to see you so soon, hm?” he murmured gently, his lips puckering with each word as he reached out with his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch right away. “I want to enjoy what we have now.”

You smiled gently when you recognized your previously uttered words and grabbed his hand that was cradling your cheek. “You know I would sneak out just to meet you if I were to be locked up.”

He rewarded you with a lopsided, handsome smile. “You shouldn’t, you little devil.”

You sighed and shimmied yourself closer until your knees were touching his. “Kiss me,” you whispered breathily, already eyeing his lips.

He observed you a little longer before his eyes dropped on yours. Softly smiling, he leaned in, now both of his hands on your neck to angle your face. The softest of touches was what you felt first before he pressed his lips harsher, moving his mouth against yours. Your hands snaked around his neck to urge him on while he opened your mouth and invited himself in. Without meaning to, you let out a satisfied hum that seemed to ignite Baekhyun because he pressed harder, slowly making you fall back on your back, head on the pillows.

He grunted as you spread your legs so he could settle himself there as your kiss grew dirtier, all tongues and teeth, battling for dominance. Your fingers were messing up his hair while his hands were touching you over the fabric of his pyjamas.

It was your whines and a couple of pulls on the hem of his shirt that made Baekhyun lean back so that you could undress in haste, both of you eager and very much horny. Finally feeling the hot skin of his chest press up against yours he was too eager and he already lined himself up at your center, needing the release without any foreplay.

“Just keep quiet, alright?” he reminded softly into your ear under which he placed the softest kiss before he started pushing in, your mouth falling open, but your juices doing a good enough job for his easy access.

You gasped rather loudly and he silenced you with a messy kiss, interrupting it with harsh pants on your mouth as his eyes were closed in focus, his forehead pressed against yours. You panted and tilted your head to chase his parted lips while he pushed himself in all the way, reaching the stillness that you very much needed.

Unable to take the pain, your eyes were squeezed shut, scratching Baekhyun’s back while the other hand fisted his blanket.

“Just a little longer,” Baekhyun whispered urgently, lips against your forehead, repeatedly puckering them in tiny butterfly kisses. “The pain will be all gone, I promise. I’ll make you feel like no one on this planet.” He moved the slightest bit, the friction making him hide his face in your neck and mouth at the skin.

Your heaving chest was pressing up against his and with his next movement, you felt the tingles of pleasure that he promised you just heartbeats ago. Giving Baekhyun the sign to move, he started rocking, already setting up a faster pace for he couldn’t wait any longer. Your influence on him was too strong, his emotions for you too overwhelming. In his eyes, you were so sexy, beautiful, sensitive, and absolutely alluring. It would be brutal if he had to hold back while having you underneath him.

Who did he try to lie to? He went absolutely crazy at the idea of him having to leave you for another man; some old dude who didn’t even know you. It might have been the reason why he grew relentless, pushing you into his mattress and snapping his hips, your face of pure ecstasy only fueling his passionate drive. He hated the entire situation. He didn’t want to share you. He never wanted to have a secret relationship with you. If he imagined a future, besides him becoming a doctor, it was your presence next to his the entire time.

Baekhyun was never one to be aggressive and stubbornly go against every rule, unlike you. In your relationship, he was the cold-headed one, the peace-maker, always fighting for what the brain said instead of the heart.

But right now, his heart was in despair, already feeling the beginning of a heart break. He thrusted into you with such passion you really couldn't contain your moans and he wasn’t sure he wanted you to keep quiet anymore. Let everyone know that you belonged to him.

He bit your skin just under your collarbones, tasting the sweat, and you gasped, fisting his hair which prompted him to grunt and reach your g-spot.

“Cum for me,” he whispered harshly, biting you again and then moving his face to push his tongue into your open mouth. “Cum for me and say my name.”

He didn’t have to tell you as you were already panting his name like a mantra that would bring you to heaven. Your walls were pleasurably stretched out, the throaty sounds he made bringing you over the edge. He followed soon after your breathy moans and your arching back that caused your breasts to press to his sweaty chest made him lose it.

His arms snaked in the space between your back and the mattress and he squeezed your body to him, hiding his face in your breasts that he mouthed and licked at sensually while feeling himself release.

With one last bite to your sensitive nipple, he moved to kiss you, your tired smile welcoming him. “I love you.”

You combed his hair away from his damp forehead. “I love you more.” But please don't leave me.

CuriousCat Ask box is also open! Or comments!💕

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roanniom · 4 years ago

Note

Requests just in time for Valentine’s Day! 💘

I’d like to request a Valentine’s Day to remember with Clyde, please. Thank you for doing requests again!

Sure thing, anon <3

Deserving

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 3,388

Note: This serves as Part 2 for what I’m now calling Hello Darlin’, a Clyde and Darlin’!Reader series that began with First Conversation Jitters.

Read Part 1 Here

Warnings: NSFW, phone sex, masturbation (f/m), unprotected PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving)

You run your finger over the rim of your lemon water as you watch your bear of a man serve drinks with his sweet and steady charm. It’s the night before Valentine’s Day and he’d asked you to hang out at the Duck Tape during his bar tending shift, something you were more than happy to do. You’d camped out on the last stool on the right with a book, waiting for the moments between orders when Clyde would sail down to your corner of the bar and romance you.

It had been about a month or so since you had begun dating but everything still felt so new. When you’d walked away that first night after leaving your number on the napkin – a move you’d only ever seen in movies before – you had half worried that Clyde would be too nervous to call. And he was nervous, a fact he’d confided to you on the fourth date, the first night you two had spent together. As he held you in the dark, a finger tracing the line of your jaw, the slope of your neck, he’d muttered quiet words into your skin. They were vulnerable but hopeful. That was the thing that struck you most. The hope in his deep, drawling voice as he recounted the way that his heart had stopped when you’d answered the door earlier in your pretty dress. The way your laugh had soothed him instead of increasing his anxiety.

The timing of your courtship had not been ideal as the holidays had rolled in pretty rapidly after that, meaning you had a lot of prescheduled traveling to do. You’d bitten your tongue to refrain from inviting Clyde to Thanksgiving dinner, knowing he had a close family of his own and also knowing that the pressure of meeting yours might be too much to take so soon. Similarly, Christmas and New Years were a wash. You’d spent these days texting Clyde rapidly under the table, sending him sweet messages and well-wishes which he reciprocated to the best of his abilities – Clyde was not a great texter.

What he was good at, however, was talking on the phone. You waited all day every day of your holiday trips for the moment when you could steal away to your guest room in the evenings and wait for his call. It always came, and the deep, rumbling “Hello darlin’” was something that you realized quite quickly had emblazoned itself on the surface of your heart.

“Hiya, handsome,” you’d reply and he could always hear the smile in your voice. Sometimes you’d facetime, but often you would just stay up late with your phone pressed to your ear, whispering into the night. Because like that first night together when Clyde had been emboldened by the dark, Clyde was equally emboldened by the barrier of distance and technology. You weren’t sure if missing you had brought something out in him or just that with time he’d become more confident in your budding relationship. All you knew is that he was no longer holding back and you couldn’t be happier.

“I dreamt a’yer mouth last night, darlin’,” he’d told you on Christmas Eve after you already had caught up on what you both had done all day. His voice was quiet but sure as he said it. Not timid as you’d expect. Heat had immediately rushed to your core and you’d gotten comfortable on the bed, tucking the phone under your cheek on the pillow.

“And what exactly was my mouth doing in this dream of yours?”

“Lookin’ nice an’ pretty…” You were about to thank him but he surprised you by continuing. “…around my cock.”

“Clyde Logan, you dog!” you whisper back at him, trying to contain the excitement that bubbles up from the newness of being dirty on the phone with your sweet man.

“Lips all stretched ‘round me. Almost prettier than yer beautiful smile.”

“I wish I could have left you with memories of the real deal so you didn’t have to just dream about it,” you’d said wistfully, suddenly saddened by the distance between you and all you had yet to experience together.

“There’s plenty’a time fer that when ya get back,” he’d comforted you. “Don’t ya worry yer lil head about that.”

“Clyde?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I give you a new memory right now?”

He’d been surprised to see you’d switched over to facetime but had been quick to accept the call. You still think sometimes about the expression on his face when you’d popped on the screen topless and touching yourself already. It was the face of a man who’d been granted a glimpse at heaven but still wasn’t sure of his worthiness.

You intended to prove to him just how worthy he was.

“Get nice and comfy – I want to cum while watching you stroke that beautiful cock, handsome.”

Clyde’s smile had been a mile wide as he’d dropped down on his bed to oblige you.

“Yes ma’am.”

By the time New Years eve rolled around, the two of you had become experts of how to drive the other crazy, often with words alone.

~*~

In the present it’s close to midnight when you glance up from your book again to find Clyde grabbing your empty water glass and bringing it to the sink. He’d gotten caught up with a particularly needy group of out of towners who’d required more service than the average customer. You didn’t mind. It had given you a chance to watch him in action from afar, taking in his large frame as he moved behind the bar. The small smile as he listened – really listened – to his customers. Every once in a while he’d looked up to catch you staring, shooting you a wink from across the way. It always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry when he did that, especially in the bar which had been the setting of his first fumbling advances toward you. His growing confidence was sexy and though you were feisty and more than capable of taking care of him, it burned you up inside even more to know he was able to take care of you, too.

“Grab yer stuff, darlin’, we’re headin’ out,” Clyde says coming out from around the bar. Your eyes shoot to your watch.

“But last call isn’t for a few more hours!” Even as you say it you notice Earl take his place behind the bar, sending a wave your way. Clyde helps you into your coat and pulls you to the door as he explains.

“Earl’s got me covered. No need for m’girl to hang ‘round a seedy bar all night.” You laugh because it’s a regular occurrence for you to spend your nights there with him, but you play along while he helps you into his truck.

“My Prince Charming,” you coo. Clyde gives you a little bow before jogging over to get into the driver’s seat. He starts up the truck and immediately turns on the heat, watching you with a smile as you appreciatively warm your hands against the vent. You catch him watching you and suddenly get suspicious, narrowing your eyes with humor. “What are you looking at, Charming?”

“The most beautiful girl in West Virginia,” he says without missing a beat before shaking his head. “No – in the world.”

You laugh. It’s the full-bodied sound that he loves with his whole being.

“Now that might just be a bit of an exaggeration, Mr. Logan, but I think I’ll take it anyway.” You lean over the truck’s center console expectantly. Clyde leans forward immediately to oblige you with a kiss. His lips are soft and taste of lemon, or maybe those are your own lips, but either way, it’s warm and tangy and everything you’ve been waiting for all these hours at the bar. You try to deepen the kiss and are surprised to feel him pull away, your head moving forward to chase his lips when he breaks the contact.

“We’ve got somewhere to be, darlin’. You’re gonna make us late,” he chides you playfully, throwing the truck into gear and pulling out onto the dark road.

“Where could we possibly need to be? It’s almost midnight,” you reply, surprised.

“Exactly,” he says with a wide smile.

~*~

Clyde won’t let you look out the window as he approaches your destination. You tease him because it is night time in rural West Virginia and it’s not like you would be able to see anything through the darkened windows anyway, but you humor him by keeping your eyes squeezed shut. When the truck cranks to a stop he jumps out and makes his way to help you out, pulling you down with his metal hand and covering your face with his massive, warm flesh one. His prosthetic presses into your waist to guide you forward and you grin, happy about the contact.

“Am I allowing you to lure me deep into the woods, Mr. Logan?” you sing out, hearing him chuckle behind you.

“I’d say yer right on the money, sweetheart.”

“Trying to have your way with me, are you? Is that what Prince Charming would do?”

“If he had a girl as pretty as m’girl he sure would, you bet yer ass.” His hand abandons your face for a second to drop light little slap to your backside and you let out a laughing squeal, sure to keep your eyes closed of your own accord.

“No peakin’,” he says, quickly putting his hand back over your eyes.

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t – I’m a good girl,” you say, know the implications of the statement. You hear Clyde swallow thickly behind you. Bingo.

“Ya sure are, darlin’.”

Just as you’re about to ask if you’ve almost arrived wherever he’s taking you, Clyde pulls you to a stop. You feel him lean down low to meet your height, his chin dipping to rest on your shoulder, both his facial hair and his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.

“Open yer eyes.”

You do as he says and immediately let out a gasp. In front of you lies a picnic blanket set up with a comfy assortment of pillows. The space is illuminated by a mix and match assortment of camping lanterns which cast a soft glow about the scene. A basket of fruit and cheese sits open beside a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in an ice bucket with two delicate glasses.

“Clyde!” You turn and throw yourself at the satisfied looking man behind you, curling around his body and kissing every part of him you can reach. His watch beeps and he looks at it with a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” He pulls you down to recline with him against the gathered pillows. You blink hard to hold back the tears that form unbidden.

“You planned all of this? For me?”

“Well I’ll be honest. Mellie and Jimmy helped,” he admits, running a hand up and down your back and pulling you into him to press a kiss to your forehead. “I had ‘em set all this up during my shift.”

It’s the most overtly romantic thing that anyone has ever done for you. You glance around and take in all of the details again, now with his warm skin under your fingers, his chest to your chest. It’s like something out of a romance novel, and you would know, you’ve sure read your fair share. Looking back down you see him watching you, registering each of your tiny reactions. He’s nervous, trying to make sure he’s pleased you. But he’s also hopeful. And that’s what breaks you.

Suddenly you launch yourself at him, pushing him down so that his back is pressed into the cushions and you are now straddling him. You pepper his face with kisses before arresting his mouth in a desperate lip lock. Though you are often the one who is chatty in the face of his pensive, thoughtful silence, you now find yourself at a loss for words. How do you tell him that you’re not used to being cared for in this way? How do you tell him that his sweetness sets your long-neglected soul on fire? That the string of meaningless relationships littering your past suddenly had meaning if only to lead you directly into his arms?

You don’t have the words to tell him these thoughts. So instead you tell him with your lips, your hands, your body. You run your hands down his t-shirt-clad chest, reveling in the thickness, the fullness of him, before drawing your hands down the length of his arms. You grab his wrists, sure to be gentle with his prosthetic, and urge them to settle above his head. It is only at this point that he resists, pulling out of a kiss.

“But darlin’…I need to touch you…” He’s breathless and you want to keep him like that forever. Keep his voice ragged and chest heaving so you can be his oxygen. Breathe life into him over and over.

“Let me do this, Clyde. My Valentine’s gift for my handsome man.” You grind down onto his hardening length at the end of your statement and his eyes roll back. When you feel him stop resisting the press of your hand on his wrists you know you’ve gotten him right where you want him.

You take your time. You kiss every inch of him over his clothes before crawling back on top to gyrate on his now straining member. His heavy breathing has made way for small, unabashed whimpers that are your new favorite sound. Clyde has been getting more dominant with you and you are excited to explore that new facet of your relationship. But for tonight you want to translate your emotions by riding him for all he’s worth.

After teasing him for long enough with your swiveling hips, you finally relent and pull his cock out of his dark jeans.

“Look at this beautiful cock. All hard and swollen just for me.” You double over to press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip.

“Only for m’girl,” Clyde nods feverishly below you. “Can ya…”

“What would you like, Clyde?” you ask, moving your hand steadily up and down his cock with languid strokes.

“Wanna be inside’a ya darlin’. Wanna feel if yer wet fer me.”

“Oh, baby…” you trail off and guide his cock to your pussy lips, your skirt long hiked up over your hips. You slide him up and down the seam of your opening, gathering your slick to coat him. He lets out a deep moan at the feeling. As you line him up you rake your nails over his soft belly with reverence. “You turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Fuck,” comes Clyde’s muttered reply, his eyelids fluttering shut. You take this opportunity to lift up and then ease yourself down on him, letting his cock breach you with a slow ease. He’s large but you weren’t lying. You’re dripping for him, aching and desperate for the fullness that only he can provide you.

“Yer perfect. Feel so good,” Clyde forces out through clenched teeth.

You begin to ride him in earnest after you adjust more to his size, letting the muscles of your thighs propel you up and down to take him at an angle that causes you both to let out steady strings of moans. Clyde’s hips begin to work in tandem, thrusting up to meet you and making the slide of his cock through your pulsing walls that much more delicious. When a particularly good thrust topples you down to grip his shoulders, your breasts push down into his face, spilling from your bra cups and up through the wide neck of your shirt.

“Oh darlin’. Oh darlin’darlin’darlin’,” Clyde breathes out, straining his neck to push up into your cleavage. His flesh hand, which had up till now dutifully remained above his head, comes now to cup the side of your breast but you don’t have the presence of mind to reprimand him. You wouldn’t even if you did, his touch feels too good.

You gasp when he plants one foot flat on the ground for more leverage and spears up into you more aggressively than before. You shudder around him, cunt spasming on his cock with euphoric tension.

“Right there, baby?” he growls. He’s gazing up at you with a sweet intensity that you want to drink in forever, but the sensations in your cunt are overwhelming and it takes everything in you to simply nod. Your eyes screw up and your jaw drops, mouth forming a little “o” in response to another punishing thrust. Clyde chuckles below you. “Oh yeah. Right there.”

You cum shortly after but, as you had promised yourself silently the moment you had mounted him, you drag yourself down his body immediately, ignoring his groaning protests and gripping hand. When you take him in your mouth he’s already partially gone. He props himself up on his good elbow and alternates between gazing at you worshipfully and wincing in pleasure.

You suck on him, knowing how close he is and knowing he likes it when you get sloppy. He’d told you so over facetime on Christmas eve as you’d sucked on the fingers of one of your hands while riding and cumming on the other for him, your phone propped on the pillow. You gurgle as you take him deep into your throat, moaning around the fullness, the thickness of this perfect man below you. When you reach down to gently fondle his balls, Clyde lets out a deep-throated groan. His balls draw up from your hand and his hips pivot up, driving him deeper into you as he paints the inside of your throat with his cum. You welcome his orgasm, drinking him down until there’s no more, holding firmly at his hips as shudders wrack his body.

When you finally pull off to rock back on your heels you take in the sheer debauchery of this whole experience. Clyde lies sprawled out on the pillows below you, hand running through his sweaty hair, chest heaving, softening cock still poking out of his jeans. A giggle bubbles up from inside you and you let him pull you down where he silences you with a hard kiss as deep as the rumbling of his satisfied groan.

After a few seconds he rolls you so that you both are on your sides and he’s quick to bury his face in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. His customary place immediately following an act of intimacy. You’ve learned to recognize this and you don’t push him. Instead you welcome the tight clutch of this, the largest yet kindest man you’ve ever met, dragging your fingers up an down his cheek in a light caress. Moments pass in silence, save for your slowing breaths, until he speaks up, words muffled by the way he whispers them into your neck.

“Yer too good fer me, y’know.” He says it as a statement, not a question. There’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t stem from how hard he’s just cum. Only now do you grip his jaw lightly, coaxing him from his hiding place against your flesh. You look him in the eyes, though he tries to avoid you. Instead you hold his gaze, finger swiping along his jaw. He sighs and adds. “I don’t deserve someone like you, darlin’.”

It’s your time to silence him with a kiss, but this time you don’t let actions do the talking. Clyde needed to hear you say the words that your clenching heart beats out, like some anatomical morse code. You grip his jaw tight and speak loud and clear.

“You deserve the world, Clyde.” His eyes melt, soft and full of adoration. You press a kiss to his forehead, one to each cheek, and then a chaste one on his lips before finishing. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

You may have spent the first three holidays of your relationship apart, but this Valentine’s Day you spent together in every way that mattered – mind, body, and soul.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

#anon #request #Clyde Logan x reader #Clyde Logan x you #Clyde Logan/reader #Clyde Logan/you #Clyde Logan smut #Logan Lucky fanfiction #Logan Lucky smut #cw: unprotected sex #tw: unprotected sex #smut #writing #Roanniom #Hello Darlin' fanfiction

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wigglesforsquiggles · 3 years ago

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@hecksee you asked and enabled this thank you

also sorry i'm on mobile so i can't add read more feel free to scroll past quickly

so basically 2 days ago i was like: hm ive been wanting to see how insane lewis hamilton's career has actually been,, but i'll need to compare it to others

however, this is more complicated than it looks, due to the point scoring system in formula one changing drastically over the years, from a 10,8,6 system to a 25,18,15 system, causing drivers in later seasons to seemingly do much better than all time greats.

so i decided to use the wikipedia articles from each season to see hamilton's result from each race from 2007 (his debut) till 2021 (last complete season), and recording the points he scored using the 2021 point system

this took like 45 minutes bc manually transcribing 17-22 races worth of points over 15 seasons, having to check which place gets which points takes some time. luckily i got quicker overtime, and can now see 4th place and go 12 points instantly

i then did some fancy excel calculations to work our the adjusted points total for each season, and the average points he scored per race in a season.

then as a bonus, because i was wondering what effect the summer break had on drivers, i calculated the average points scored from each race in a season (i.e. 1st race average X points, 2nd race average Y points, etc)

I then repeated this with Sebastian Vettel and Max Verstappen (all three world champions), to see the similarities and differences with them.

This took around another hour, as Verstappen has only been in 7 seasons compared with Hamilton and Vettel's 15

Then I decided to see how many DNFs (did not finish) each driver got per season and overall - again harder than it sounds as i recorded both dnfs and no point placements as 0 on the spreadsheet. I had to go back with wikipedia and manually check which entries were no points, which were dnfs, and which were dns or saw (did not start and disqualified).

Now i've decided to really go all in, and add other drivers like Rosberg and Button (similarly both wdcs) and further compare stats. I used the same methods as stated above, which took only around half an hour - a combination of speed from practice, copy-pasting my template, and Rosberg only being in 10 seasons.

during this, I started to create a seperate sheet full of ideas, so i can come back to them later. One of these was creating on of these for Micheal Schumacher (seen as the goat of f1), comparing his different eras (defined by me)

Once again, i used the same methods as above, this time splitting his stats into 1991-1999, 2000-2006, and 2010-2012, adjusting the points scored and finding averages and totals.

Ive stayed up till 4am consecutively doing this, purely bc my brain enjoys doing this. I'm not listening to any music or watching anything, i'm just sitting there typing numbers onto my computer enjoying every second of it

#formula one #i will reblog w pictures later #i will make a seperate post w all the actual data later #thank u hex i needed to get this out my system

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

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“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 2 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // main page // next chapter

Summary: After the conversation in Nebraska, there’s some tension between our favorite genius and Reader. A peace offering, a rainstorm, and some unexpected questions should clear that right up.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature (not all chapters contain smut, those that do will be marked)

Category: Smut, fluff, and a bit of angst.

Word Count: 2.3k for Chapter 2

Content Warning: Some slight angst for Chapter 2

A/n: I hope y’all are liking this so far! No smut in this chapter, but I more than make up for it in chapter 3. Promise.

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTE: It was brought to my attention that the angst in this chapter appears to be something it is not. I mean, I know how the story ends, so I didn’t see it that way. But it’s a valid concern. I address it in chapter 6, but I’ve made edits to chapter 3 to address it a bit too. Reader is afraid to trust anyone, that is all. I promise.

y/n = your name

y/l/n = your last name

italicized text are Reader’s inner thoughts.

-- Chapter 2: I fucking beg your goddamn pardon? --

Once we pinned down the gender of the unsub, it wasn’t hard to help the locals close the case. Anna Marie Wilcox, 29. A pretty blonde girl with haunted eyes, betrayed by every man in her life. She just wanted to take her power back.

Cool motive; still murder.

The flight back to Quantico was quiet. Hotch spoke with Rossi before take-off, telling us that he was flying back from San Francisco after visiting his daughter and grandson and that he would see us on Monday. After that, everyone seemed to slip into their own world. This wasn't uncommon. After working day and night to save lives, digging your way into the darkest corners of a murderer’s mind, you needed to decompress a bit.

JJ was asleep in the back of the cabin, Emily sitting beside her while she reviewed some files. Hotch was writing at the small table, Morgan sitting opposite him, eyes closed while he listened to whatever played through his headphones.

And I was on the couch with Dr. Spencer Reid. I was very surprised when he boarded the jet and made a beeline towards where I was sitting without hesitation. He hadn't spoken to me or even looked at me for longer than 5 seconds since our talk at the precinct. I could tell my blunt words had an effect on him, which wasn't surprising to me. I tried not to stereotype people, I knew better than anyone else how wrong those stereotypes could be; but, if I ever had to guess a person I thought would be a submissive, I’d guess Spencer Reid.

My back was angled on the couch, pressing into the corner where the armrest met the backrest, my legs crossed in front of me. I had my phone in my head, swiping mindlessly on a puzzle game that didn't require any cell phone signal to play. I always found myself doing that after a case, it calmed me.

Dr. Reid was pretending to read.

He’s not even being convincing, I thought, trying to keep my face neutral. You read 20,000 words a minute, baby. You’ve been staring at that page for 5 minutes. Unable to resist, I shifted in my seat. I slowly uncrossed my legs, the small slit in the side of my skirt becoming visible at the movement.

Did I wear this skirt on purpose? Yes, yes, I did.

I let out a soft sigh before re-crossing my legs. I watched him out of the corner of my eye the entire time. His eyes followed my movements, his breath hitching slightly. He moved his gaze up my body until he got to my eyes, which he was surprised to find were on him. He cleared his throat before going back to his book, little splotches of red on his cheeks.

I smirked. All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.

Nothing happened until Thursday the following week. I had all but given up hope that Spencer Reid would finally cave and come to me. Shame, I thought. He would look so pretty when he begged.

The unit's caseload had been lighter than normal, with no cases that required us to travel. We did some consulting and wrote up some preliminary profiles for the law enforcement agencies that asked for our help. We had been traveling so much over the past few months, I think Hotch was just trying to give us a break.

A loud clap of thunder broke the silence of the bullpen. Then it seemed as if the sky opened up a second later, the heavy rain falling like a curtain outside the windows.

“That’s dramatic,” Emily Prentiss commented.

Morgan made a sound of agreement before turning his head to look at Reid. “Have fun walking to the train station in that, pretty boy.” His face split into a smile as Spencer shot him a glare. JJ, Emily, and I all laughed at their exchange. His eyes didn’t go to JJ or Emily though, those caramel brown eyes swung in my direction.

At the end of the workday, Garcia was the first out the door. She walked past the bullpen and gave a big wave. “Goodbye, my darlings. I will see you in the morning…unless there is a terrible murder!”

The team smiled and returned her goodbye. Derek was out of his seat in a flash, trailing after her. I couldn’t help but wonder about the two of them sometimes.

“Bye Spence,” I heard JJ say as she passed the boy wonder’s desk. “Try not to drown out there.” Emily laughed as she walked up beside JJ, standing just a little too close. I wondered about them too, if I’m honest.

When it was just me and the object of my attention left, I got my bag and approached his desk. “Hey, Doc.”

He didn’t look up, making it seem like putting files and papers into his messenger bag required his full attention. “Hi, y/l/n.”

Well, this wouldn’t do at all. “It’s still pouring outside. Do you need a ride? I’d hate for you to have to walk a block in this storm.”

“I’ll manage,” he muttered, still not meeting my eyes.

I let out a sigh. “Spencer.” His eyes finally raised to meet mine. “I’m sorry if I stepped over the line in Nebraska. It was unprofessional. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my intention.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I continued. “I hope that we can move past this, I really miss my friend.”

He took a moment to adjust his glasses. He never wore them anymore, and I have to admit that my heart sputtered a bit when I saw him in them this morning. “We were friends before?” He chuckled slightly, earning a smile for me. I’d only been with the BAU for 7 months, and while I was friendly with my co-workers, Spencer and I had never had a particularly close bond.

“I like to think so,” was my reply, giving him a small smile. “And if we weren’t before, I hope we can be one day.” With one final look in those eyes, I turned. “Have a good night, Doc.”

I was halfway to the elevators when I heard him. “Y/n!” I turned to see him hurrying towards me. He smiled at me; and it was his real smile, not the polite smile he gave others. It was a full-blown smile that lit his whole face up. My stomach fluttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d actually like a ride. If you’re still willing?”

Still so nervous, even now. “Of course, pretty boy,” Morgan’s nickname for him slipping from my lips without a thought. “Follow me.”

It wasn’t the thing I had been hoping all week that he’d ask me, but it was a start.

The drive to Spencer’s apartment took longer than it should have. I was driving slower because of the storm; I was also driving slower because other drivers weren’t driving slowly.

"This type of rain is so heavy it cuts the visibility more than the average storm," the good doctor said. "Under normal precipitation, it's advised that you reduce your speed by at least 10 miles to account for less traction."

“Huh,” I responded, glancing down at my speedometer.

He cleared his throat. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

I risked a quick glance at him to see him shifting in his seat. “Do what, Doc?”

“Ramble,” Spencer said softly. “I ramble when I’m nervous, and I’m trying really hard not to be nervous.”

My heart ached for him in that moment. This brilliant, brilliant, man, the smartest and kindest person in any room, was nervous about talking to me. My right hand lifted from the steering wheel before I could think better of it, touching his arm lightly. “Please don’t be nervous around me, Spencer.” His whole body stiffened at my touch. “Shit! I’m sorry. I forgot you don’t like to be touch.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “I just keep fucking this up, don’t I?” My chuckle was sad, and a little bit bitter.

“It’s not that,” he said quickly. “I was just surprised. I don’t…I don’t mind if you touch me.”

I didn’t try to hide the shock on my face. “You don’t, huh?”

I swear I could almost hear the blush in his voice. “I d-didn’t mean it like t-.”

“Spence,” I cut him off. “I know. I was just teasing.”

He let out a small chuckle at that. "Oh. Right." There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. "You know, you've never called me Spence before." I simply nodded in agreement. He was right, I hadn't. I hadn't even meant to do it then. He continued on. “Actually, you only call me Spencer when the conversation is serious. Other than that it’s always Doc…or occasionally Reid.” The chuckle that left him put a smile on my face.

“You’re right, Doc.” I glanced over at him and smiled. “Tell you what, I don’t want you to be nervous around me. At all. So, I’m giving you blanket consent right now.” I really hoped I knew what I was doing. “You can ask me any question you want. You can tell me anything. I promise I won’t judge you.”

“…Really?” He sounded almost like he was in awe.

I nodded. “Yes, really. The thought of making you nervous makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want you to feel that way in front of me.” My voice was soft, reassuring. Maybe it was the soft dom in me that recognized his submissive, but I wanted to comfort him. I wanted him to feel safe.

Spencer Reid took a deep breath before he spoke again. He acted like it was no big deal, but the words he said afterward gave me a mild heart attack. "Okay, can you tell me about your BDSM experiences?"

I fucking beg your goddamn pardon?

I sputtered a bit. “…Seriously?” My eyes were wide, I didn’t risk looking at him.

“W-well,” he sounded unsure now. “You said I could ask you anything.”

“You can! You absolutely can!” I heard him let out a breath. “I’m just…surprised that’s what you went with. That’s all. But…I don’t mind telling you if you really want to know.”

“I do,” he whispered.

I smiled over at him. “Okay, Doc. What do you wanna know?”

Spencer chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Maybe just walk me through what you like to do. Or what you usually do. Or how you got into it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s all?” I shook my head. “Alright. I was 21 when I first got into it. I had a…he wasn’t really my boyfriend. I guess you can say a friend with benefits.” I saw him nod his head in understanding. “And one day he asked me if I knew anything about BDSM. At that time, I only knew misconceptions and rumors; which is why I told him I wasn’t interested. The thought of someone tying me down and doing whatever they wanted to me sounded terrifying. But he clarified that he thought I would enjoy being a dominant. We tried it out a few times…and I liked it.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “So…is that the only kind of sex you have?”

I pondered over how to answer him. “That’s…a complicated question. I’m not not answering. I think I should just explain a bit more first." He made a noise of affirmation before I continued on. "What I do during a scene sort of depends on my submissive. Before anything happens, we have to have a really in-depth conversation, discussing hard and soft limits, punishments, expectations, and things like that." I glanced over, confirming I hadn't lost him. "Like I mentioned, I'm a soft dom. But, I usually can bend to what my submissive likes, as long as I’m comfortable.”

“So, what would you do? If you got to pick everything?”

You keep on surprising me, Doctor, I thought.

“Well, I like bondage, choking, degradation, but only if it’s light and done right.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain that. “Then I’m fine with oral sex, praise, orgasm denial, overstimulation, and pegging.”

Spencer was quiet. “A-and pegging is the…”

“What the unsub was doing to her victims? Yes, Spencer.”

“…Oh,” was all the boy genius said.

I continued on, trying to provide context. “I usually like to build up the relationship a bit before I bust out a strap on, though.” I worked hard to keep my voice even. “I’ll use toys on him first, usually.”

“You didn’t say sex.”

Shit. "Beg pardon?" I asked like I was clueless about what he meant.

Dr. Reid’s voice was firm; it was the voice he used on cases, the steady voice that explained concepts that anyone else would miss. “You said oral sex. You said you’d…you’d…do that-“

“Oh, for God’s sake, Doc,” I interrupted with a laugh. “We’re less than 3 minutes from your apartment and we’re having a conversation about BDSM. You can say fuck.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “You said you fuck them. But you never said you’d let them fuck you.”

Fucking profilers. “Yes, that’s right. That’s why it was so hard for me to answer your earlier question. I don’t have traditional sex with my submissives.”

His voice was confused when he asked, “But why?”

I clicked my tongue. “That, my darling, is a conversation I avoid at all costs. And we’re at your apartment.”

Spencer glanced around, surprised we’d arrived already, despite how long the drive took in the rain. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. I was already formulating my answer when he said, “Y/n…would you want to come up to my apartment? So we could keep talking?”

“Sure, Spence. If that’s what you want.”

message/comment to be added to the series tag list! thank you for reading :)

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joontier · 4 years ago

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Parallel Palpitations | V1; report i

pairings: dr. park jimin x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: romance, slice of life, humor

warnings: none to note

word count: 2k

g/n: this is just an intro basically ksjdfksjdf but i’d also like to inform yalls this coincides with the Subliminal in Scrubs universe (jk’s installment of TWA)

Parallel Palpitations (the records) | navi. | m.list

Closing his locker with his foot, Jimin tries to carefully balance his books placed precariously on top of each other in his arms as he walks back to the dean’s office where he’s also arranging most of his stuff to take home. It’s already been a week since he’d officially graduated medicine from Busan National University, and he had only kept going back to school to gather all his belongings so he could start reviewing.

“Jimin, is that you?” The question almost knocks clumsy Jimin off his feet, surprised at how there was still any other person in the office besides Kyungjo who was also collecting his stuff to take home. Jimin sets all of his books down first on a desk and turns, only to come face to face with none other than Jeon Jungmin himself, associate professor and chairman of the Jeon Medical Center.

“Professor Jeon! Good evening Sir...It’s already late, professor?”

Jeon Jungmin laughs, patting Jimin on the back, “I was going to say the same to you kid. You should go home.” Jimin flashes the older man a small smile, “Ah...yes, Professor. I’m just grabbing the last of my stuff then I’ll be on my way. This won’t take long.”

“It’s fine, Jimin. The staff know you well anyways,” Jungmin sighs, then rests his weight on a pillar as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You know, Jimin...you’re a very bright student...I think even one of the best in Korea if I do say so myself.”

The young man momentarily pauses with what he’s doing, taking in the professor’s words, “Oh, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Sir.”

Jungmin chuckles as he shakes his head. “It’s true - you’re driven and you’re smart. It’s a fixed formula for someone who achieves great success in life later on. Your parents must be very proud. I would be too, if you were my son too.”

“Thank you, Professor. Everything I do, I do for my parents.”

The older man lets out a deep exhale and gives Jimin another pat on the back. “Just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be a fine doctor Jimin - and the Jeon Medical Center would definitely need fine doctors like you. I realized I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I really hope you will choose JMC for your post-graduate internship. We have a good program here,” Jungmin’s voice goes down to a whisper, “If you wish to, just let me know…”

Someone enters the office and bows to the both of them and recognizes the same man as the professor’s driver. The man collects the professor’s briefcase and coat with one nod of Jungmin. “Well, I’ll head off first, Jimin. I can give you a ride home if you’re done with those.”

Jimin shakes his head quickly, declining the one and only Jeon Jungmin’s generous offer. He’s unsure about the other offer though, but if he lets himself get a car ride home with the chairman himself, the latter might take it as a favorable answer to his proposal to which Jimin is still undecided. “No thank you Sir. I’ll be alright. This might still take a while after all,” Jimin says with an awkward laugh, tapping the top of the stack which was rivaling Jimin’s height.

“Alright Jimin. Get back home safely. And I...hope to see you again very soon.”

Jimin gives him a curt nod. “Good night, Professor.”

He continues on with his remaining tasks, wanting to finish quickly so he could finally go home and rest. “Is he gone?” Kyungjo’s voice startles Jimin, the book in his hands nearly causing the tower of books to collapse. “My god! Stop doing that!” Jimin scolds his friend as it wasn’t the first time Kyungjo’s sleuthing had given Jimin a fright.

“Yeah, he left already. You done with your stuff?”

“Uh-huh. All set and ready to step into the real world,” Kyungjo replies, waving his hands in the air. Jimin narrows his eyes at the other boy, judging him silently. Kyungjo has a particular inclination towards alcohol and Jimin wonders if today was one of the days where his friend indulges himself yet once again.

“Have you heard about his actual son? What was the kid’s name again...uh…” Kyungjo snaps his fingers in mid-air as Jimin asks what was the issue with the chairman’s son, likewise reminding Kyungjo it wasn’t best to talk about it in the dean’s office. “Ah! Yes, Jeon Jungkook. Heard that their relationship got so bad that Jungkook completely cut himself off from the family once he graduated high school and went to Yonsei instead of BNU because of his daddy issues.”

Jimin, unsure how to handle and process that kind of information, simply shakes his head at Kyungjo. “It’s wrong to gossip about other people's lives like that.” When Jimin looks over at his friend, Kyungjo is no longer listening, fumbling with the remote as he turns up the volume of the office television.

“In other news today, two thousand five hundred sixty one students of Seoul National University graduated this afternoon 25th of February, 2023. The ceremony was held at COEX Convention Center in Samsung-dong, Seoul to accommodate the number of graduates this year. With a yearly average of at least two thousand three hundred graduates, this year’s commencement ceremony records the highest number of graduates in the history of the national university.

“Not only did they record the highest number of alumni, but this year also marks the first year to have a foreign national graduate as the school’s valedictorian.” Jimin is listening just as intently as Kyungjo now with both boys focused on the TV screen. “Jeong Yeorum, also known as Summer Jeong by her colleagues, graduates with flying colors today from Seoul National University’s College of Medicine. Here is part of her valedictory speech this afternoon.”

A girl appears on screen and she stands behind the podium with a bright and reassuring smile on her face. “As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives, I implore you all, to do what you love, because I believe it’s what you’ll do best. There will be countless times of trial, but keep in mind that perseverance will always prevail. Always aim for the moon, because even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Class of 2023, good luck. And remember, graduation is only the beginning.”

“Wow!” Kyungjo claps his hands enthusiastically as he marvels at the girl. “The twenty-six year old, who along with her family migrated to South Korea back in 2015 when her father was reassigned to an office here in Seoul. The valedictorian says she’s not entirely foreign to Korea as her paternal grandmother is actually a native of Jeju. Jeong Yeorum then attended a co-ed high school in Mapo District, where she likewise finished her secondary education with academic distinction.”

The reporters, equally impressed with the girl’s achievements, couldn’t help but add their own comments to the news report, “Wow...I guess some people are simply born for greatness.”

“I agree with you there, Dongho-ssi. We might be looking at the next Bae Jeonjoo, the only woman in the group of doctors who pioneered neurosurgery in South Korea. Ms. Jeong Yeorum, if you are seeing this, we’re rooting for your promising career. Fighting!”

As soon as the news anchors proceed to report other news, Kyungko turns off the television and mentions the time. “Well, she was pretty cute, wasn’t she? Totally my type! Maybe when we get to Seoul to review, we’ll get the chance to meet her...and make her my girlfriend!”

Jimin rolls his eyes at Kyungjo, placing a firm grip on the shoulder, “My friend...you are either drunk, hungry, or high. Either way, you should go home. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just close up here.”

Kyungjo shrugs his shoulders. “You’ll still go, right? To Seoul?”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jimin gives the other boy a reassuring nod.

“Still half half with the rent, a’ight? I’ll be counting on you, Jiminie...and don’t let me down. Also, tell me when you’re leaving for Seoul so I know when I’m not supposed to bring hot city girls home...they have the tendency to be...loud sometimes.”

This boy was definitely high, and whatever substance he’s taking, Jimin wants none of it.

“That’s your cue, Kyungjo. Go home and take a cab instead.”

“I can drive! I’m not high or drunk!” Kyungjo puts his hands up in the air in defense. “Hey, look, I can even moonwalk!” He proceeds to dance wildly as he exits the office, leaving Jimin questioning how he even became acquainted with Kyunjo in the first place.

You barely hear the sound of your name being called on stage when the audio of Hoseok’s loud whooping completely dulls that of your professor’s. “Oppa! Nobody would be able to make out my name with your audio input!” Playfully shoving your cousin’s phone back into his hands, you continue to mumble your complaints about the poor video quality.

Indignant with your words, Hoseok retorts, “Hey! I’m not a professional videographer, alright? What’s important is the actual moment happening and not how the moment was captured!” Hoseok hooks an arm over your neck, bringing your head to his chest as he gives you a noogie. “Oppa, my hair!!”

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you quickly pat your hair down but not delivering a solid smack on Hoseok’s back. As you’re fixing your hair, you weren’t able to put much thought into where you were walking, ultimately, and accidentally bumping into someone in a blue and black graduation robe similar to yours.

Quickly, you look up, apologizing profusely at the person. “Oh! I’m so sorry- I…” “It’s okay,” the guy smiles a little, “_________, right?” You’re sure the surprise is evident in your face when he mentions your name when he barely even talked to you during the entirety of med school. “Yes! I mean...hello, Jungkook..” Clearing your throat, you quickly think of something to divert the impending awkward silence, “Well...um, congratulations to you for graduating as the batch valedictorian!” It now dawns on you that he really did graduate on top of the class, “Wow! You’re real smart!” comes your thoughts, unconsciously voicing them out.

‘You’re real smart?’ Really? That’s the best you could’ve done?

Jungkook chuckles, slightly taken-aback by your audible observation. “Oh yeah...um, thanks.” From behind you, you hear Hoseok clear his throat before speaking up. “Hello!” You hang your head low momentarily, already imagining Hoseok making fun of you later for this.

“Right, Jungkook, this is my cousin, Jung Hoseok. Oppa, this is my classmate - Jeon Jungkook.” The two men shake their hands briefly before Jungkook speaks up, “Well, I’ve got to go now. Congratulations to you too Soomin. And Jung Hoseok-ssi.”

As soon as Jungkook gets out of your sight, Hoseok nudges you with his elbow. “Please tell me that man was Jeon Jungmin’s son,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Nodding your head, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Got a crush on the dude?” Oh god. Here we go again.

“No! Jeez.”

“Why were you so awkward around him then?”

“We barely talked in class. Hell, I don’t even think we were within at least fifty meters from each other.”

“But he’s a handsome man?”

“Maybe you’re the one that’s got a crush on him?”

Hoseok glares at you.

“Do you think maybe you’d know which hospital he might be interested in taking his PGI? Woocheon perhaps?”

It’s your turn to glare at him. “I told you. This incident was only one of our very few interactions ever. I think the last time he talked to me was when he borrowed a pencil during a class and that’s it.”

“Well...if you’d discover where, let me know. Because if he does apply for Woocheon, and we’d happen to get the girl from SNU too....” Hoseok nods his head slowly, stroking his chin “Woocheon will have the A-Team interns this year, you included.”

You roll your eyes, resting your arm against the car door that Hoseok opens for you, “You really think that’s going to pay for you ruining my hair?”

“No, but you’re going to thank me if Woocheon manages to snag the dream team!”

#jimin x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #park jimin #bts aus #bts fic #park jimin x reader #jimin fluff #doctors au

41 notes · View notes

lilypixels · 3 years ago

Note

...............all of them.....?

It took me an hr to do this....🥲💀

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Teacupsss

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Uhhh cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably quiet and smart lol I did my school work and was friendly with everyone so I was a favorite and heard all the nice things 🙈

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I kinda like bottles more but like the glass ones with the caps that could slice your fingers-

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I’m for all but sports lol

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

Shows cause I’m the type to watch an hr long episode vs hr long movie idk why but I’m rarely in mood for them

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Drop the beat (ie songs that are upbeat and I like most)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Hmm...I guess lanyard?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles or twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I had lots I had to read in school but only ever finished a handful lol my favorite I think was maybe Macbeth? I would say Odyssey but I don’t think we read the full thing cause I remember being disappointed about something like that...

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Sitting with my legs bent up in seat with me in some way

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Converse and some nice but cheap sneakers from Walmart

18. ideal weather?

Not too hot, not too cold, mild like before/after a rain (most the time), idc if it’s raining or sunny but as long as temp is comfortable I’m fine

19. sleeping position?

On my side most often

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone and notebook

21. obsession from childhood?

Oh gosh uhhh I guess my like of dolls maybe? Or obsession with anything ✨unexplained✨ like ghosts, aliens, cryptids, etc

22. role model?

Kim Namjoon lol just kidding (sorta)

23. strange habits?

Ok I know I have some and my friends would be more than happy to point them all out but hm let me think...idk if these count as habits but I’ll never place a mirror facing a bed (this is more superstitious I guess than habit,,,) I can’t stand my food touching, if I have a tray like in cafeteria I have a certain spot for everything and uh my mind just went blank-

24. favorite crystal?

Moonstone, lapis lazuli, and I feel obligated to say garnet cause it’s my birthstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

Circle of Life maybe who knows xD

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk or clean,,I’m more active and about with warm/nice weather

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

...stay inside where it’s warm

28. five songs to describe you?

Not this again😭 uhhh idk you tell me ajdbd

29. best way to bond with you?

Indulge me when I go off about things I like or learn 😔✊ I know I’ll talk your ear off and I’m sorry but know I don’t often talk about these things with people so once I start it’s hard to stop,,and it makes me really happy when people do listen to me about these things and send me related items every so often or even look into it themselves to learn more 🥺

30. places that you find sacred?

For some reason this feels like a trick question...um cemeteries and anything with ages of history I guess

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Oof do I really have a true outfit?? I have shoes for this which are just black platform sneakers I call stomping shoes

32. top five favorite vines?

I never,,,watched these,,,

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“Yes”...?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

State Farm and McDonald’s, always

35. average time you fall asleep?

10-11...usually...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Uhhh that one with the ginger dude (I think it was someone’s yearbook photo??) I don’t remember much else about the meme but it was on ifunny, or whatever the app was, a lot

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Easy, tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

...neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Dude these questions really testing my brain power here- for senior prank someone put cereal in some bathroom sinks I think

41. last person you texted?

My mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I’m gonna say jacket since I wear those often

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie or cardigan

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Usually whatever shirt I’m wearing that day and some pj/lounge pants 🤷

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I-what kind of question is this? How does one even answer this?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

What comes around goes around lol (yes I’m a heavy believer of karma)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Lol who knows, probably something dumb me and my siblings were doing or something we watched cause there’s been plenty times of that xD

51. current stresses?

Homework vs free time e-e

52. favorite font?

I like the gothic looking ones but it’s usually not practical to use so idk

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My hands...? They’re fine ??

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to care for babies and little kids, how to put on a diaper lol

56. favorite tradition?

I can’t remember a particular one off hand but I’m trying to start few new ones like decorating cookies for Halloween uwu

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhhhhh like personally or...? Cause we’ve overcome homelessness before, um finishing assignments idk😭 oh maybe bullying?? That’s all I can think of since I still struggle with a lot,,

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Alright let’s do thisss: creativity (mostly in writing sense), I can bake/cook, I have amazing organization skills and many work places have used that lol (bonus is I don’t mind, I actually really enjoy it, very peaceful), surprisingly good balance all things considered, I’m a quick learner

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I’m too tired for this.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Good question good question🤔 I don’t think I’d last in any of them/have a terrible side character role so 💀

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dude this is gonna get embarrassing I can feel it🤠

Itaru, Iori, Sogo, Belle, Simeon (obey me), Nozaki (he’s clueless about romance irl and doesn’t know when someone has a crush on him yet can write romance well enough and yeah it’s me lol), and uhh Swindler/Ordinary Person in Akudama Drive (still can’t believe no one really has names in that anime but the way she gets wrapped in everything felt like something that’d happen to me lol)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Like nightclub...? I’m skipping this ajdbd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Probably the Barbie site, me and my sister played all the dress up games almost daily istg

65. any permanent scars?

Appendectomy scars and then looks like I have one on a toe but it’s possible it still might heal...

66. favorite flower(s)?

Nightshade, foxglove, baby’s breath, bellflowers, roses

67. good luck charms?

I don’t think I have any...

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Lemon

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Let me think...I read something once about flowers having ears(?) but like not ear ears just something about having a part that picks up sound waves

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Lolll animal print I think

72. worst subject?

Physics...the worst science

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

6...?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I don’t remember, it probably happened when i was 6. I do remember losing one of my front teeth during my birthday one year and I was happy since the tooth had been loose for some time xD

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Chips I guess or just like fried in skillet

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent probably

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither ew

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

They are both about equally terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

I am on pc side now

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts I guess

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology, it’s too fun and chaotic lol

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Hm...cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

Uh,,,I don’t have many fears but I guess one would be falling from a great height? So I would get scared of crossing a bridge and it collapsing or riding a plane and it falling easily

88. your greatest wish?

World peace🥲

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom maybe...?

90. luckiest mistake?

I honestly don’t remember but something I do remember is I out semicolon instead of period and turned out to be correct grammar lol

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight or fairy lights, I don’t require much either way and prefer more natural lighting

93. nicknames?

Lassie, twinkle toes, Ash, poody butt (by 3 yr old I sometimes watch and play with lol he means it affectionately; I call him monkey butt and it’s catching on slowly instead)

94. favorite season?

Starting to be fall just a little more but I like transition times most

95. favorite app on your phone?

Let’s go with twitter

96. desktop background?

It is a moriarty and gang pic

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2: mine and my moms

98. favorite historical era?

Ooo tough one but I’ll say renaissance as some of the coolest things came from that time

#if there’s something messed up in this string of text #ignore it cause I’m not proofreading again ajdbd #I did not realize there were so many questions pls #asks #jade why 😔💜

17 notes · View notes

moondustaeil · 4 years ago

Text

anoetic ❧ kim doyoung

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. anoetic

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : breakup au ; exes to ... ; fluff , angst , suggestive

⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : soloist!Doyoung x reader , composer!Taeyong , soloist!Taeil

⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 15k

⋅ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : numbered parts are current events , unnumbered parts titled as “summer sun” are flashbacks , alcoholism , suggestive content , guilt-shaming , hidden but exposed relationship , idol-dating drama , arguments , jealousy , inappropriate language , ...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅ The record is new, the songs that play old and the message overdue. Kim Doyoung, once your summer sun, now an empty silhouette draped in noirceur in your apartment. You’re his remedy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ part of

⋅ the neo-summer collab, hosted by @neo-cult-ure . With a chosen summer-titled song we write a fic about a chosen member: my song is “Summer sun” by Hooverphonic.

❧ ᴏɴᴇ : "ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ." ☙

The clock-like ticking of the direction indicator resounds over the song that is playing on the car radio. It is one of the love songs that Doyoung tends to play. It’s not as lyrical as his own songs due to the repeated "baby, baby," in the intro, but he still enjoys listening to the hidden sentiment in the singer’s voice. He takes the turn rightwards and turns off his indicator as soon as the turn has been made. After doing so, he places both hands on the steering wheel as he drives into the street.

The new street welcomes him almost like he's never seen it before. The street is far from unfamiliar to his eyes though. Aside from the doubled amount of cars that drive on the other lane and the modernised apartments, things look exactly the same.

He cocks his head to the side to be able to have a broader view of things he shouldn't be looking at. Something that a lot of drivers habitually do. Just like those drivers, Doyoung sets his eyes on the different buildings and white clouds that slowly move in the same direction as the car.

Almost too distraught by the outside world, he forgets the purpose of driving in this street. Until. The apartment building where you live comes in his eye-sight, he doesn't even need to cock his head to the side to be able to see the window that belongs to your exact apartment.

Something that could resemble a smile starts to form on his lips but he parts his lips to not give in to the temptations of the shown emotion. As much as he wants to smile, there is no objective meaning to do so yet as happiness has not made its introduction in today's events.

The first available parking lot is taken up by his car, neatly parking between the white rectangular lines as he learned at his driving classes ages ago. He isn't someone who bought his licence in a pack of cereal, something that apparently happened a very long time ago, but that might only be something old people say to clarify how easy it used to be in the past. After checking each possible mirror, he turns off the motor of his vehicle.

His silver Porsche 911 Carrera S gladly forces itself to listen to the given instructions. The overly-expensive car provided Doyoung with comfort and support during the entire ride, but Doyoung is glad that soon he will be able to get out of the car and stretch his legs. Momentarily, he leans back against the leather seat to release the tensed feeling in his shoulderblades but soon realises it won't ease the nerves that he's feeling and does the opposite of sitting in a relaxed position. He hovers forward as one of his arms lays over the steering wheel. With the other, he fishes out a piece of jewellery from his pocket. On his left hand, he places a real silver ring on his pinky. A strange action compared to what most people would do in this situation.

Not until a couple of minutes after he gets out of the car, he finally collects the courage to walk up to the familiar apartment complex. But the moment he does, he can only stand in front of the common front door like someone is willing to open it before he rings the bell. To the right, his eyes endlessly read over the many names of those who have their homes in the complex. On purpose, he reads foreign names slower even though he can read them as well as he can read the ones written in Korean. He avoids the first syllable of your name: no matter if it says your name or not, for now, he opts to move on to the following names.

What now? His slow reading didn’t help him any further. In the end, he has no other option but to leave or search for your name between the many tags and ring the bell. Before he even starts with his mission, he sighs because he knows he doesn't need to search for your name on the white-coloured tags.

A lump of unstable breathing leaves his lips as he presses his index finger to the black buzzer. That action only happens after he makes sure to move further away from the camera and microphone. You probably wouldn’t open the door or even answer if you found out it was him. The buzzer starts chanting its ringtone, a sound that makes Doyoung’s heartbeat accelerate. It seems like he might have a heart attack the moment the buzzing is replaced by your voice.

With the multiple second-lasting buzzes, Doyoung freezes in his current spot. Not because he's cold without coat covering his shoulders but because many what if's start to form scenarios in his mind. What if you don't open the door because you don't live here anymore? What if you don't open the door because you are in bed with somebody new?

The first scenario can be nullified as your name still was on the little white tag, still typed in the same font as before which meant that nothing apparently changed. It gives him hope that the second scenario is as much made up out of fiction as the first one.

"Hello?" Your voice interrupts the scenarios completely, they disappear like they never were possibilities in the first place. "Who is it?" you ask again when you don't get a proper response. You don't hear a voice responding to you, neither do you see anyone, not one glimpse that reveals someone is waiting for you to open up the door.

The tone of your voice makes Doyoung cover his mouth with one of his hands: the words don't mean anything to him but hearing your voice after such a long time shoots a bullet of sentiment to his heart. It's not an effortless task for him to stay silent while you are speaking, because even when he covers his mouth with his hand, he's obligated to purse his lips invisibly.

Wordlessly, Doyoung narrates and tells himself to leave now that he still has the chance to do so. Despite knowing you're there at home, he guesses he won't be fulfilling his goal today. From his pursed lips pushes a sigh before he turns his body away from the door.

The handful of steps form a small staircase together. Doyoung easily skips them by taking one large step until he finds himself on the public walkway. Deep inside, he wants to run towards the car, but his feet don't allow him to go faster than an average walking pace.

"Doyoung!"

Before prohibiting the action to himself, his body turns towards the apartment building. Firstly, his eyes meet the common front door of the complex but his eyes are quick to notice the light movements. He sees them from the corner of his eye and immediately looks up towards the source. Your bedroom window is opened, with you standing in the opening, chanting his name to catch his attention.

His vocal cords are taken away by speechlessness. His right hand is quick to solve the problem by allowing his index finger to point towards his silver-coloured vehicle. The hand that was in his pocket is used to unlock the doors. Momentarily, he disappears on the passenger's side of the car.

The empty-handed arrival is reversed when he appears in front of the camera. In his hand is a collection of bundled wildflowers, which he tightly grips between his clenched fist. The grip never loosens, not even when he needs to hold the railing in order to safely get up the stairs.

Each step he takes seems to resemble a memory of the times he had walked these steps. The revisited memories don't tire him out despite the long time he stands still for them. Step one reminds him of the first time that he came here on his own because you granted him a key. The step in the middle that separates one floor from the other reminds him of the tiring sighs that left his lips after long workdays. The last step reminds him of the last time he walked down from them after the breakup. One by one, heavy steps and the ones he was taking now didn't vary much in weight.

Two steps. One step.

As soon as he wants to step on the unchanging floor, he almost stumbles over his clumsy feet when the door of your apartment opens. There is still a chain that separates the door from completely opening but after re-opening your door, he can fully see you in front of him.

Almost ceremonially, he holds out the flowers towards you. You're too far away to grasp the little bouquet of nature between your fingers and even after five more tiny steps, when he's right in front of you, your fingers still don't reach out for them.

"Come in," you tell Doyoung without greeting him first, your door opening as wide as it can to let in the person that you used to unofficially share this place with. Your body doesn't completely turn as you keep on checking whether Doyoung actually follows you inside, instead of trying to flee like he did when he was outside. This time Doyoung's feet allow him to follow you inside the apartment, the only time his feet halt is when he takes off his shoes in the hallway and neatly places them on the provided rack.

Your feet stop in the living room as you expect to sit there together with him rather than an inconvenient spot such as your bedroom the kitchen, not that they were untried places, but the progressive situation caused them to become inconvenient over time.

"I brought these," Doyoung says but not until after he once again holds out the little bouquet of flowers towards you, he almost didn't say anything but noticed how you didn't seem to get the hint of having to take the flowers from his hand. You look down at his hands to see what he is holding before you focus on his face again, trying to decipher the unreadable expression.

Without sharing a response, you take the bouquet from his hand and hold them between your lightly-clenched fist instead. "Thank you," you say with a small nod out of discomfort and awkwardness even though you're grateful for the little bouquet. Whether he came empty-handed or not wouldn't have mattered to you at all, perhaps him not coming at all wouldn't have mattered either. "I will put these in a vase and get you a drink. What would you like to drink?" you ask.

"Just some water," you hear Doyoung say right before you can disappear into your kitchen. Thinking you knew what he wanted to drink, you already took the steps towards the other room. Water was his standard drink: not too cold so that it wouldn't damage his vocal cords and not too warm so that he wouldn't feel nauseous. Although you expected him to say water, another drink momentarily seemed an option but you'd rather not think about that too much.

Silence fills the apartment as each of you are in a different room right now: you're in the kitchen looking for a vase and pouring Doyoung his drink while Doyoung is in the living room and can only silently look at everything. Time seems to go by slowly but you blame it on yourself for stretching some time as you are too busy mouthing possible conversation-starters to yourself. After all, appearing stupidly inarticulate in front of your ex-lover wasn't something you want to take place.

In two turns you take the objects towards the common room: first the vase with wildflowers that are placed in the middle of the table, setting you and Doyoung apart with the decoration, after that you place two glasses of water on each side of the table.

"Thanks," Doyoung says once the glass of water is placed in front of him. His hand wraps around the glass, shoving it slightly towards the end of the table. As much as he wants to gulp it down so that he doesn't need to speak for a few seconds, his fingertips can only trace over the thin ribbles of the glass without lifting it to his lips to drink.

Over the bouquet of flowers, he can see you sitting on the other side of the table but lowers his eyes to the flowers instead of continuing to look at you. He fails to notice how you look at him for a short amount of time: starting at his hair before your eyes undergo the transition from his face towards his upper body. He still looks the same as he does in the pictures that you've kept and the memories in your heart.

Doyoung looks away from the flowers, perhaps due to the visual attention even though he doesn't realise that you were looking. Firstly, he looks towards the white walls that seem the same as they were long ago even though some patches are discoloured from the sunlight that shines in on a summer day. Next, his eyes follow the individual pieces of furniture that fill the room, one by one even though some of them form a set together. Almost like a matching lingerie set, but less sexy and more personality-revealing, but why did he even make that comparison?

"You look good."

Faster than ever before, Doyoung's head turns towards you. His eyes shifting to you after you say the words and he silently hopes you were still eyeing him, but unfortunately, your head is hung low and your eyes turned away from him. Your gaze fixated on the half-empty or half-full glass of water in front of you.

Doyoung loves the remedy of sound and the remedy of silence. Truly, it doesn't cure what is going on but it's like a placebo that gives him the feeling that things are brightening up. Perhaps rather than a remedy, he still feels stunned by the words you said and he takes them a little bit too much to heart. Hopefulness fills his heart, unneeded.

"But the hair is still stupid," you seriously add. There is no need for you to look at his hair once more before stating the comment, you can clearly recall the many colours of Kim Doyoung. From his pulchritude regular hair colour at the beginning of your relationship to the strawberry pink shade, or from the soft purple locks to an intense blue shade, and up until now where his hair was regularly black. Still, you conclude you don't like the look of his hair and if you can't blame it on the colour, you blame it on the forehead-covering bangs.

The remedy of silence seems Doyoung's accustomed placebo today. He stares at you as you let the continuation of words flow from your lips, and even when you fall silent, he opts to take a second placebo. As he looks at you, the side effects seem to kick in: memories of you and him, a new record filled with old songs.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ"

"Last year it was a great honour to receive the new artist of the year award. This year, it is another great honour to be here as representer of the same award."

Your pupils are trembling as your anxious eyes are staring at the fully-brightened laptop intensely. Your eyelids urge to cover your irises due to the blinding blue backdrop. Yet, every few seconds, you widely open your eyes because you don’t want to miss Doyoung’s live speech from the award show.

Through the screen, you fail to notice little details about him: either because they are morphed away by full-coverage makeup or because your eyes have no intention to work properly at this hour of the night. Yet, you can imagine those details without having to see them on his face: out of the many people he sees in a day, only you have disclosure of the miniature beauty details.

The microphone is held towards his lips by the host of the show. His own hands are too occupied, holding the award between them to present them to the audience and the camera. He expects you to be watching from home. And he's right when he knows that you stay up until midnight and even past that. You wouldn't miss seeing his performance of his new solo on stage, and surely not the glorious moment where he receives the award.

"This year brought so many powerful new artists, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time," his speech continues with the fake set of words. He looks awfully serious while saying them. A fake smile would have given away how he beforehand knew that he was the one to receive the award. How else would his name be engraved in the little statue-like award already? His fans don't think that far ahead but no one truly does, which is the reason why grand award shows sneak off with so many viewers.

It's something you wouldn't have known either if it wasn't for Doyoung telling you how award shows truly worked. Just like how he told you about idols being each other's friends, but sometimes also being the complete opposite. Whether or not they were actual friends, it didn't change the fact they weren't allowed to talk because their agencies don't agree with such things. For example, Moon Taeil, who like Doyoung is also a great vocalist, but their interactions stay behind the scenes and unposted about. Ignoring one another on stage but behind the scenes, they plan stereotypical artist hangouts in a rented restaurant.

"Doyoung, would you like to thank someone special? Who helped you to achieve this award for the second year in a row?" The host asks Doyoung who momentarily fell quiet after his imitated surprise. Doyoung can only hum as he looks around the stage before his eyes go to the right camera again, something he studied as well so that his eyes don't meet camera number three when he is supposed to look at camera two. "I would like to thank my company for allowing me to bring out the music that I want to show to my fans, with that I also want to thank my fans who hugely supported me not only now but every single day and every step down this path."

You don't feel addressed by his words unlike his many fans do, simply because even if you love his music and voice, you don't classify yourself as a fan. Admitting to being a fan of your boyfriend would be embarrassing and almost would make you sound like one of those fans that possesses of his personal belongings and phone number after sneaking into his hotel room. But you don't possess of those things because you're a "사생팬" or a "sasaeng fan" but because you are his lover, the person that he comes home to almost every night.

"And there is one more person that I want to thank," Doyoung picks up where he left off once again. The words unnecessarily make your heart beat faster out of panic: even if you trust him, there are always chances that things slip out or that he impulsively decides to share details about his personal life. Every fan of him might possibly remember the night he did a live in his bedroom with a packet of condoms on his bedside table and you hidden away in a different room. The start of a set of rumours to which he just admitted that he was someone with sexual needs but that he was being safe, so didn't need any extra criticism from media or fans. "I would like to thank Lee Taeyong, who helped to compose and produce this track!"

A belated sigh escapes from your pursed lips as your head is thrown back towards the white ceiling. Your eyes are closing but unlike before, it's not due to the bright light but in utter relief. Your palpitating heart slowly begins to replace the rapid pulsations by a regular heartbeat, the lack of stable beats causing your heart to skip a few before things become normal again.

Your pursed lips loosen until they begin to part slowly, allowing a soft laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. "Fuck," you mutter with a deep breath that holds back all of the stress that you bottled up in a matter of seconds. As you tilt your head again towards the laptop screen, your eyes automatically open to see the bright colours surrounding your lover. Doyoung bows shortly to the host before he does the same to the people in the crowd, receiving a standing ovation and an endless tune of unmatched claps.

Even you from home, can't help but slowly start clapping both of your hands together. An inaudible applause of pride because even if you knew he would win for over a week, it doesn't stop you from boasting his self-confidence even when he doesn't see it. "Fuck you, Kim Doyoung," you scold silently as you now feel your calm heartbeat again, the shock from earlier escaping through the gaps of the closed windows to flow along with the nightly breeze.

The shining star of the evening disappears from the stage, the previously bright background suddenly wasn't as bright anymore. Artists that follow after Doyoung don't follow your recognition. You're biased by no other than your lover and everyone else seems non-existent in your world. Without an interest in the others, you close your laptop and push it further away from you.

Only your summer sun, Kim Doyoung.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

A black tailored jacket is dropped onto the single leather coated armchair that's specifically standing in the living room for lonely evening reads. The piece of furniture is unseated in so it might as well get accompanied by the expensive piece of clothing that hung over Doyoung's upper body earlier that night.

The blackened screen of the large television reflects Doyoung's full body like a mirror. The reflection reveals his tired silhouette with the help of the only source of light, the table lamp somewhere in the corner. He looks at his own reflection: seeing the white cuffed dress-shirt that stands out rather than the rest of the black-coloured outfit. He turns away from his tired appearance and lunches his body over the low coffee table. The tired expression is replaced by a small smile when his eyes immediately meet the little object he was looking for, his ring. The piece of jewellery is laying on top of some magazines that he starred in or covered on, but only the silver band catches his attention.

Between his thumb and index finger, he holds the ring with a light grip. The glacial material rests between his fingers effortlessly and he can't help but observe its little details. The medium band that is just the right in-between of thick and thin, the black engraved decorations that add meaning to the ring. He tightens the grip on the ring as he slides it around his pinky. Right where it belongs. Habitually, he takes it off before he leaves the apartment for a public appearance. Ceremonially, he puts it on the second he returns home so that he can make his appearance as human and lover. As soon as the ring is found around his finger, he spreads out his fingers. On the side of his hand is a little cut due to a fan that wanted a bit too much attention, but only the ring receives his full attention.

His back straightens painfully but doesn't prevent his shoulders from slumping forward in tiredness. It's a long-term consequence from the many hours he spends away from his comfortable home. Hotel beds aren't quite as comfortable, studio chairs are as stiff as high-school desks, the backseat of the car can be compared to the armchair in the living room. Nothing compares to the remedy of home where he can spend endless hours with you, in comfort.

"You're not coming to bed tonight?"

Despite being able to see your reflection through the black tv-screen, Doyoung turns his body towards the sound of your voice. He can't stop himself from smiling even before he sees you. When you finally come in his eyesight, that smile widens even more. Unconsciously, he adjusts the ring on his pinky with his thumb before dropping his hand next to his body.

"I am," he responds shortly. His sock-clad feet slowly step towards you, creating soundless suspense due to the darkness of the room around the two of you. "I was just taking my ring, you know I don't like not wearing it," he hums out in a softer voice as he gets closer to you.

You take the last step towards him and smile when you see that he has a wide but relieved smile on his lips. "I know, I was just waiting for you to come to bed," you say in a soft voice as you wrap your arms around his body to properly welcome him back home. The embrace starts off light but soon Doyoung tightly wraps you with a layer of thick love his arms tightly holding you in place so that he can decide when there's been given enough love.

"Let me tuck you in then," Doyoung playfully comments to your words but he appreciates that you waited for hours even if you might have drifted off a few times. You laugh silently at the words, slapping your hand over his shirt-covered shoulder before resting your head on the body part. "How many times did you fall asleep during my speech?"

The second laugh you let out is louder than before, mostly because of how well he knows you: after all, no one else would be able to tell you accomplished the unsaid goal of falling asleep during his speeches a few times, and no one would even know you watched award shows. It was obvious that no one would be able to tell, simply because only a handful of people knew about your existence in Doyoung's life. And less than a handful of people knew about Doyoung's existence in your standard life. Just the way it was supposed to be. It's better if you lay low.

"None," you say as you press a few tired kisses to the side of his neck, thanking him for the service as he starts carrying you towards your shared bedroom. From afar it could look like a gesture of love but at this hour, neither of you were in need for intimacy to level up. "I nearly had a heart attack when you started to thank 'someone special'" you quote.

This time it's Doyoung's laugh that vocalises through the apartment hallway, fading out as the two of you get to the living room and separate the two locations by closing the door. "Seems like I can make your heartbeat fast even after such a long time," he proudly states. You are put down on your side of the bed for Doyoung to rid himself of the uncomfortable suit. The formal outfit gets replaced by nothing but his comfortable sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt.

"Yeah, you're a little shit, that's all I have to say," you declare. While he's changing, you lay your head on the pillow and watch each detailed movement he makes until the moment his body is laid to rest next to yours. "I thought I was your lover!" he protests against your words, trying his best to make it sound like he's not as tired as he truly feels. You know better than that and see through the playful facade, facing your tired boyfriend. "You're my summer sun."

The words are left responseless but they cause a white-coloured cloud of love to dwindle down upon your exhausted bodies. Doyoung presses a delicate kiss to your cheek to wish you a goodnight sleep before his arms once more find themselves around your body.

A symbolic lullaby later, the remedy of the dark takes over. Two exhausted bodies laying in each other's embrace until the late morning calls out for attention.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ"

"Something effable," Doyoung requests. While his fingers are placed on the tile-resembling keyboard keys, your fingers are circled around the poetry book. Today's reading recommendation is no other than Rupi Kaur's "the sun and her flowers." You hum as your damp fingertips caress over the poem on page two hundred sixteen.

The family-related poem wouldn't be seen as effable to your boyfriend, thus your eyes travel to page two hundred seventeen: first over the fine-line illustration of a unibrow before the ode catches your attention. You place the three fingers that separate your thumb from your pinky at the gutter of the book and hold it slightly higher for Doyoung to see. "Effable enough?" You question.

"I will know if you read it to me," Doyoung responds, one hand making its escape from the white keys without leaving his fingerprint. Instead, his fingers meet with the virgin-white fibreglass. Due to the warmth of the water that fills it, the material doesn't seem as cold as it usually does, but it might just be your presence that warms up his body until his fingertips. His fingers halt as he smiles, letting time stop because the sound of your wonderful laugh fills the bathroom.

"Why would I read it to you, you didn't want to join me in the bath so I don't want to read it to you either," you teasingly protest. The book sinking more towards the surface but there's enough distance for the bottom edge to stay unembellished from water. This time it is Doyoung who fills the bathroom with his vocal sounds, just like his songs, his laugh was like a melody even if it made him sputter like an old water faucet. "I had a shower this morning and I promised to send lyrics to Taeil, Jaehyun and Haechan tonight," Doyoung sighs. After coming home, he regrets still having leftover work on his plate.

Due to the self-set deadline of the lyrics, Doyoung is sat on the floor in the bathroom whilst you take a bath. Though for once, work doesn't seem as demanding and he has hope that the lyrics will be a product of the current circumstances. Almost like a scene in a French film, the scenery is aesthetically pleasing: burning candles on the edge of the tub, dimmed lights to set a romantic mood, a book in your hands, and your beauty. Not just beauty as he would call you beautiful: the beauty in your smile, the beauty that rests in your fingertips, the beauty that coats your pure heart. Ensorcell, to enchant or fascinate someone. And yes, your beauty fascinates Kim Doyoung.

"What do I get in return if I read it to you?" You challenge. Everything in life is a give and take, but that doesn't mean you want the unreachable in return for reading a finger-countable-lined piece of poetry. "Some old-story lyrics about you, the cliché kind," Doyoung presents to you as he motions to his right hand that's still placed upon the keyboard. In consideration, you let out a hum "seems like a gift I have received a few times already, don't you have anything better to offer me?"

Unsatisfied by the unsealed deal, Doyoung puts up his thinking face. His facial expression depicted with his eyes that look upwards and his upper teeth that lightly scrape over his lower lip. "What if you just don't write lyrics today? If we go to bed early, you can finish them tomorrow morning," you suggest. It's a tempting offer that Doyoung badly wants to take, he shifts his eyes to you as though his final answer will be written over your cheeks. "That's not fair: your poem is less than half a page long and I have to stop working all night just to listen to it?"

"I stay up all night to listen to your speeches too," you playfully backlash against the words he says. You can't deny that watching him work makes you feel either way proud but also desolated on some moments.

"It's just one evening, summer sun," is all you need to say before Doyoung gives in and gives up his work for tonight. "Only if you'll let me play what I have so far as well," the deal continues before you can seal it with a kiss. Once more: life is a give and take. In agreement, you nod your head.

"Now read me the poem, dearest," before the deal is sealed, Doyoung urges you to read the poem that you've kept hidden under your water-stained hand. You doubt if the page will ever desiccate without the appearance of vein-like crumples. "Here goes something effable."

"Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together. You can't keep lovers apart, no matter how much I pluck and pull them. My eyebrows always find their way back to each other." You read out almost ceremonially even if it gets hard not to burst out laughing at the unexpected twist of the poetry. After reading the short lines, you close the book and toss it towards the floor. "That was your effable poem."

Among the numerous variations in Doyoung's laugh, there is a serious style issue in the "haha," that sarcastically leaves his lips. Yet, after the sarcastic and almost spoken laugh, a roar of laughter escapes his mouth.

You turn your body sideways slightly to look at your summer sun, unable to stop the upturn of the corners of your mouth when you see him laugh. The way he uses not only his mouth but also his cheeks and eyes to laugh makes it only more genuine and dazzling. Your hand reaches for his that is still rested on the edge of the tub, intertwining your fingers during the moment of exuberance.

The laughter slowly fades out after floating like a cloud in the sky, tranquillity slowly dawning over the room like morning dew on roses. Doyoung's gentle fingerpads stroke over the back of your hand lightly, ignoring the hindering from his dry skin that tries to smooth your wet one. "Do you want me to listen to your song now?" you ask Doyoung, leaning down to press an emotive kiss to his hand.

"I thought you wanted an evening without work-related things?" Doyoung questions as he looks towards you, his free hand moving to remove the keyboard from his lifted knees. A quick reflex of your hand causes it to land on the keyboard to hold it into place "No, I would like to hear what you wrote so far, if not, just play me the tune."

"My beloved, y/n. I'm not going to play it yet, you were right and I want to spend an evening alone with you, without my music."

As much as it pretty much breaks the deal you never managed to seal with a kiss, you nod your head in consensus. One out of three hundred sixty-five nights in a year isn't a lot, especially not when it is about Doyoung not working on his musical career. That one night of not working won't make his agency withhold a day's worth of money.

"Hm, I like the sound of that," you admit to him. Your hand finds his again in a gentle embrace, once more intertwining your fingertips for everlasting contact. "As do I," he responds with a soft smile, lightly tugging at your wrist to draw you closer to him. Halfway the small margin your lips meet for a kiss.

His lips felt soft against your mouth, the numbing feeling only making the sincerely intimate kiss more addictive. A war of tugging is created when your hand tugs at his to slender the distance between the two of you, causing his yet dry hand to sink into the warm water together with yours. As the kiss continues, your fingertips explore one another in the pool of wetness: whilst your thumb and index finger find the silver band around his pinky, his thumb and index finger messily measure your ring finger.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The white fluffed bedding resembles what you imagine that it would look like in heaven: an unexisting property with nothing but softness and white-coloured ornaments scattered around messily. Yet, there is something that distinguishes heaven from your bedroom: in heaven, you hope to lie on a mellow white-cloud instead of the wooden floor of your shared bedroom.

If you were to associate white with some self-chosen words or feelings, you'd associate it with: peace, cleansing, calm, protection, peace, and of course purity. And if you were to associate your summer sun with a colour: it would be lilac. Doyoung endlessly reminds you of strongly-scented lavender against white bricks, the colour of an aesthetically pleasing sky, a brown-paper wrapped bouquet of lilac and white coloured wildflowers. You don't bother finding out which colour you are, for Doyoung, you'd be any hue from the Pantone colour book.

The pad of your index finger strokes over Doyoung's spine, caressing the heated skin delicately. The idiomatic expression "sending shivers down someone's spine," would be of excellent use in this situation as Doyoung's back arches momentarily at your small gesture.

Doyoung turns his head towards you, a soft smile displaying on his lips as he sees you in nothing but purity. Even though his lips are slightly parted from one another, no words fall from them like a waterfall. You prop up your body on your left elbow, allowing another body part of yours to go numb just as every part of the left half of your body. The numb tingles equal painlessness even though your bones only age by laying on the hard wooden floor.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow from the poem?" Doyoung asks you, grasping your hand that was on his back before you manage to lay it to rest at your side. He intertwines your fingers for what seems like the first time, even though the time your fingers have been separated from one another is shorter than the time they've been symbolically glued together. "What do you mean?" you ask.

Your thumb endlessly rotates over the knuckle of his index finger, applying the slightest bit of pressure which barely makes it feel like the touch of a feather, so light. But the circular movent pauses when you hear the question. Which unibrow?

"The poem from the book you were reading earlier," Doyoung says in a softer tone, adoring the way you look confused even though you had been the one reading the poetry to him, so you better than anyone, should know what had been fonted down on the page. "Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together," Doyoung quotes faultlessly.

"Ah." You calmly breathe out as the memories come to your visual memory: not only the illustration underneath the poem but also the expression on Doyoung's face as you read the second half of the poem. Due to his quotation and the return of the memories, you forget the initial question he asked.

He leans closer to you as he sees the reflection of himself disappearing into your eyes, the universe forgotten by the termination of time. You find yourself in the midsts of the spinning earth but barely realise you stand still in the centre.

"Did you hear my question?" the warm breath dampens your face before you progress the words. His face is close enough to yours to make use of his five senses: your natural scent, the minuscule facial details, the almost peachy-soft skin of your cheeks, your calmed breathing pattern. "Hm?" you hum out silently.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow of the poetry book?" Doyoung is obligated to question once more since you had been too lost in your lover's memory lane to hear it. This time you almost snort at the words, but it sounds more like an inward laugh. Unibrow still is an unusual word, especially knowing Doyoung is referring to the first two lines where lovers are the subject of affection rather than the hairs that grow above your eyes.

"Do you mean that we will always end up together despite being separated?" You ask in return although you're sure that's exactly what he means. Your already confirmed question just gets extra validation when Doyoung nods his head "that you can keep lovers apart," he finishes the next line of the poem with different wordings but effortlessly puts the same meaning into them.

Unibrow.

"I think no matter how much people pluck, it won't stop us from blooming towards one another," you state in a soft voice. Your finger motions seem to resemble a pair of scissors, cutting off the blooming flowers which you'd like to name Doyoung and y/n. Cutting the flowers with the unmechanical pair of scissors is something you don't plan on doing, thinking about it already makes some petals wither.

Though as you imagined earlier, Doyoung is like lilac lavender, which doesn't let its petals wither, unlike the flower that you are. Seemingly an omen but you don't let the ode write its lyrical ending for your relationship yet.

"Will I still be your summer sun in Winter?" the endless questionnaire of Doyoung drags on longer than needed. Presumably, because Doyoung wants to hear your exclamation of love and affection but the effect is reversed. The questions only effectuate insecurity and mayhaps sadness. In response, you simply hum to brush off the subject.

You love Kim Dongyoung. Your one and only summer sun: distanced by the high sky but close enough to shine his rays down upon your existence. No matter where you go in life: the sun will be there, even if each night it would die for the moon, it was out of love. Whether you walked between the bright-coloured scenery in the park or sat in your leather reading-armchair with the curtains closed. The sun was always present.

A cloud. You sigh. Symbolical to the wind that allows the cloud to float in front of the sun. You are a cloud.

The made comparisons are endless. Panic rises from the pit in your stomach, all the way towards your awaiting heart. Heartsickness goes along the agony of mind, and you can't help but isolate the thoughts from your summer sun. Your face glows as you smile affectionately at Doyoung and your fingertips go along the circle of life again by stroking over the back of his hand.

"You'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity,"

❧ ᴛᴡᴏ : "ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ" ☙

A new record filled with old songs.

The record malfunctions. Merely halfway through one of Doyoung's favourite love stories, it starts to falter. The remaining memory-filled lyrics don't sound the same. The distortion makes it sound unpleasant.

The last audible lyric replays itself until the message is overdue: "you'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity."

The timeless music and unforgettable lyrics get replaced by memories that grow vague over time. One of the reasons why Doyoung prefers to recall memories like they are love songs: he can buy new records endlessly, no matter how old the songs are. Lyrics stay the same, memories change.

If memories were comparable, he'd compare them to the cover art of a record. The lyrics and music are the most essential but cover art can't be ignored. On good days, he can adjust the brightness. On bad days, he completely drags down the saturation until there's nothing but a monochrome illustration left.

On the cover art are never-changing elements: a shining sun, grey-ish clouds, a white wall, lilac-coloured lavender. They all play the starring role, no matter the filter that coats them. Those four reoccurring elements remind him of you, and the relationship.

The music is discontinued when he hears a voice interrupting another replay of the lyric. Even if the music is gone, he doesn't hear what the voice is trying to say. It's only one word, brought to his ears in a worried tone.

On the other side of the table, you are the person that calls out his name endlessly. Almost a handful of times that you tried to reach him in the past minutes, and even though he's opposite of you, he seems far away. Far from reality and in his own universe.

You can see it in the unfocused eyes. The brown irises seem to be staring at you without actually seeing you. It's one of the few signals that he is only present in his own world: a world that you don't see, but surely are a part of even though you aren't aware of it. Seeing him like that worries you, you can't even wonder about the images that layer in front of his sight.

"Doyoung," you call out his name once more. You have no other option but to chant his name until he returns back to the real world. It's not the first time to see Doyoung like this, something that you could label as unfortunately or fortunately. Which of the two options it is and which memories are connected to it, are things that you hold yourself back from. You would rather not let those things haunt your mind.

The effect of your chant is that lifeless human Doyoung finally makes the slightest movement. His head stiffly tilts to the side, the movement of his neck seems unnatural and painful. Yet, he doesn't show any signs of discomfort: his lips are pursed into a tight line, and his unfocused eyes are still aimed at you.

You sigh deeply at the barely visible change. "Doyoung!" You chant louder. You bet it's loud enough for the apartment next to yours to complain by banging on the walls, but luckily the hardworking couple from next door isn't home to show their protests.

Your loud exclamation seems to put a halt on Doyoung's reverie. It's not noticeable until his eyes seem to drift away from their aiming point for the first time in minutes. The imprecise staring transitions to exploring eyes before he targets them on you. He hums, which is barely audible as the haze had its effect on his vocal cords. The remains still glue onto him.

"You were daydreaming," you mention without him questioning about it. You took the hum as a sign that he was slowly getting ready to speak, and you're too uncomfortable to let the silence last much longer. "Oh," he shortly responds to your words. Though it doesn't make him realise why you called out his name, or whether it was actually you. He feels betrayed by himself and it seems like no one is willing to tell him the truth.

With a grunt out of discomfort, he moves his hand away from the glass of water. His fingertips are painfully sore from the endless twitching between the ribbles of the glass. His hand moves to his face, rubbing the haze from his facial features. Yet, the haze is like a layer of primer that seeps into his pores. Whether or not it's noticeable, it's still present, hidden behind a new layer.

Doyoung's word of realisation causes silence to fill the room once more. It's not a word that you have a response to, and you don't want to ask your ex-lover about the contents of his daydream. But you can't turn the daydream into an excuse for not saying anything, still, it's what you opt to do.

Your eyes leave the visage of the black silhouette on the other side of the table. You cast them towards the wildflowers that you've been gifted by the person behind the silhouette. When you don't look at him, he looks at you. Doyoung maintains the one-sided eye contact with you. His eyes observing you in silence, trying to find melancholy in your body language.

Melancholy. The defined emotion that he looks for in your body language surprises him, but his expressionless face won't show the self-surprise. Millions of questions could tell him the answer to how you feel, but he doesn't ask any of them. He simply longs to see melancholy and spoken words won't satisfy the lust.

The way you avoid eye-contact could be a first signal of melancholy. Your silence could be the second. The monochrome but mollitious furniture could be third on the list of signals. Whether or not they are actually symptoms, Doyoung makes himself believe that they are. Just like he makes himself believe that you want him back.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"How have you been?"

Doyoung's question is like an excerpt from a slow-burn book that you will never read. Like the cliché line from a romantic film where the characters end their relationship halfway through but still end up together before the closing credits. But this isn't a slow-burn book or a cliché film. If anything: the closing credits of your relationship have been shown, the last page has been turned and the screen has gone black.

"How have I been?" You question as you look up from your own glass of water, but you still cast your eyes far away from Doyoung's so that you don't have to look into them. Doyoung's eyes tears from your face the moment your head moves, whether you plan to look at him or not. When he looks at you, you don't look at him. When you look at him, he doesn't look at you. Now that is a cliché, seen in films where people are forbidden to love one another. Perhaps you've both forbidden yourselves even though you try to look for love in the other's visage.

Doyoung hums lowly at your question "how you've been," he repeats his words. You wish your question would have given you some time, but the few extra seconds don't automatically form an answer. You should have been prepared for a question like that, but Doyoung coming over unannounced left you unprepared for everything. Even for a simple question like that, ex-lovers needed preparation. If there was an ex-lover who didn't need time for that question, it was because they were genuinely happy or able to brag. It's the type of question you answer with an untrue story and a fake smile. But how can you tell a story so untrue without a fakely realistic plot?

"I could tell how I've been first, if you want me to," Doyoung desperately suggests. You wish he would tell you that you didn't need to answer his question if you didn't want to. But instead, Doyoung who seems desperate to speak decided to take over from you before you made a blunder.

You simply nod. Despite realising that you don't want to lie, you allow Doyoung to go first. The sudden realisation of not wanting to lie is built up out of the reality that you should be scolding him for showing up unannounced, so he probably had more to tell you than you had to tell him. And the desperation in his voice almost indicated that he had an entire storybook ready to read. But nothing was less true than that.

"I've been good," are the only words that leave his lips. Not even sixty seconds later, you conclude that it's the only thing he has to say. The waterfall of words you expected, doesn't flow out. His lips are pursed into a stiff line to hold himself from saying anything more.

You want to scoff at his short sentence, one that isn't even long enough to start a chapter with. Yet, you keep your manners and just nod as a sign you accept the words. "You've been good?" You ask him for a continuation without using those defined words, but Doyoung avoids the hint and just nods his head.

Doyoung lowers his eyes towards his lap. Under the small table and on his lap, his two hands come together. His fingertips nervously fumble with one of his treasured objects, his ring. The silver band that belonged on his pinky, moves from finger to finger until it's between his thumb and index finger. Brown eyes follow the movements of the ring and the remains of the coldness as it moves to another finger.

"Have you sold out your voice?"

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ"

Sextilis.

The original name of the last summer month. A name given by the Roman calendars before the months January and February originated. Later Sextilis was renamed Augustus to honour the first emperor of Rome, Caesar Augustus.

What August weather typically looks like is hard to define. But at a glance, it's noticeable that hurricane activity increases, average temperatures turn cooler, and the length of daylight decreases. On rare occasions, early-August snow makes its appearance, and that fact can ring a bell to the childhood film: Nanny McPhee.

00 : 34 : 50 there'll be snow in August before that one's there when you need her

It doesn't snow. But it's August. And the timestamp of the film implies what time it was when Doyoung made his appearance in your shared apartment last night. Now, a little over eleven hours later, Doyoung is found on his soft blanket. His exhausted body wrapped in the white sheets like it's a layer of snow that covers the ground.

Whilst Doyoung finds himself asleep in a bed of snow-coloured sheets and pillows, you find yourself walking through the increased hurricane-like emotions. Your facial expression is as dark as the skies before a hurricane, yet, it's the calm before the storm.

You are still kind enough to prepare breakfast for your summer sun. On the tray you prepared is the one thing he needs the most, and the things he will dismiss. Toast neatly placed on a white plate, a Dafalgan that is effervescing in a half-empty glass of water, the silver band that connects him to you. The filled tray is what you hold in your hands when you go to the bedroom, stopping you from starting a rant the moment you walk in.

At first glance, your eyes see Doyoung peacefully asleep between empty bed-space, right in the middle like he's taking the throne. He looks like a God. Turn it around and you have Dog, which is exactly what his late-night disappearances imply. What he does at night is unknown to you. And when you reek the swallowed liquor on his tastebuds, you don't even want to know.

"Doyoung, it's past eleven." You announce. Your voice is soft, quiet before the volume increases with each time that you need to repeat the words. You don't know why you don't immediately start shouting out his name. You can almost compare it to a teacher who willingly explains the same chemical formula over and over again. Until the chemical substances provoke a chemical reaction.

Doyoung can only hum tiredly in response. He's lost in the tunnel of sleep and your voice is a little bit too far away. He's not even prepared to see the daylight, even though he knows he has to. "What time is it?" he asks.

"Past eleven. Almost noon," you address. It takes a glance at the alarm clock for you to see what time it exactly is, but Doyoung is too tired to hear the one-minute intervals. So you shorten your words enough for him to understand.

Your footsteps exceed the line that separates the bedroom from the hallway. The wooden floor is incognito from the many expensive pieces of clothes that are scattered along. It looks messy and yet the clothes are patterned towards the bed. You take the same route as the clothes lead you in, stepping over them as there is barely room for your feet to stand on the wood.

After stepping on at least two different clothing items, you reach Doyoung's side of the bed. "I brought you breakfast," you comment. Your hand pulls from the tray, trying to shove some meaningless items from the bedside table so that you can place the tray on it. That way, an empty wine bottle and some notebooks fall to the floor and the tray takes their place.

"Didn't you say it's almost noon?" Doyoung mumbles. He turns his worn-off body on his side to face the bedside table or you, but his eyes are still tightly pressed shut. At least his brain seems to connect the dots between you bringing breakfast but telling him it's almost noon.

You hum. "It is. Only nine minutes before it's noon," you say. Part of you feels happy that Doyoung is capable of using his brain, but the other half just wishes that this situation wouldn't exist. It's far from uncommon, a little too common, something that happens too often. Even though you don't know if the unknown events are similar to the others, the morning after is a replay of an old song.

"Then why are you bringing me breakfast?" Finally, his words start making sense, but you hoped for words that made you feel like you received a bouquet of flowers. Some gratefulness for nearly serving Doyoung would be appreciated, even if it only was a mumbled: "thank you,". It could be effortlessly said compared to something that sounded like what you did wasn't enough. "Because it's not noon yet."

"Bullshit," Doyoung objects to your previous words. At least he knows it's bullshit but on the other hand, he would be fuming if the actual reason slips past your lips. "You can eat toast as lunch too, you don't need to eat beef daily, Dongyoung," you say in a gentle tone. Still, the way his real name is mentioned, makes it sound more strict and serious.

"Why? Why are you feeding me lies?"

Doyoung's bare body feels hot against the snow-coloured sheets, his blood boiling out of anger or because of the liquor remains in his blood. His brown eyes are opened and intensely staring into yours. He demands an answer. An honest answer that can make his blood boil even more. It almost appears like he is purposely trying to make you say hurtful words. If he gets hurt by them, he has the chance to take off his stress on you by anger. Or so, it seems.

"You got drunk. If you eat lunch now, you'll throw up and I will be the one to clean it all up!" You say, your voice increasing as you speak. Yet, you still sound relatively calm. Like earlier: you're like the substances that eventually provoke a chemical reaction. The toxic level of concern is greater than a small number and lower than a high number. Yet to increase.

"That's not what I'm asking," Doyoung states. He sits up on the bed, grasping every piece of clothing that has been thrown close to his side of the bed last night. Unfortunately for him, his socks are the last piece of clothing he took off. His dress-shirt is near the door, where he had almost torn it off. "I'm asking you why you're lying to me."

Out of annoyance, you press your fist down upon your thumb until you hear the sound. A sound that is heard when people crack their hands before a fight. A physical fight that you're not going to have. But it has the same effect on you. Even if you want to slap him across the face, you don't. Your fights are fought with harsh words, threats to break promises and eventual silence.

"I lied about the breakfast because I didn't want to fight. I don't like fighting with you but you apparently do! All you do is nitpick, closely observe everything so that you can point out my mistakes and then use them against me."

Ah, those words. The rant that had been stuck in your throat for days. The rant you hadn't coughed up because you weren't sure if medicine could cure the cold that followed. The consequences were unpredictable, just as unpredictable as to when the symptoms would finally turn into the sickness. Today, you coughed it up.

"I go out so much so that I don't have to be around you so much."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"Is that truly what you think of me?" You question Doyoung. The room is empty but you still dedicate the words to your summer sun. He made his appearance without showing his silhouette. Exposure by the folded tray that rests against the kitchen tiles and the tableware laid to wash in the sink.

Unlike the high notes that he sings, his footsteps had been so low and almost inaudible. It leaves you in the dark as you don't know how long it's been since he dropped his breakfast utilities in the kitchen. Perhaps it's your fault for not hearing him. Out of anger, you refused to acknowledge his presence and focused on 'me-time'.

Stood against the kitchen counter, you realise he's been there when you failed to notice. The mess he leaves is something that typifies the Doyoung you recently got to know. You try not to think of the evolution, because it could have been you who changed. You try to ignore your initial basic-need for water and opt to clean up the mess. It's not something you do out of love, but you still do it.

"What?" Doyoung's confused voice chimes in. His low-sounding footsteps make an appearance, starting at the bedroom door but they move towards the kitchen. The footsteps halt at the doorframe, where he stands at a safe distance. Ready to either converse or flee when the argument ignites. "You mean what I said earlier?"

"That you go out so much so that you don't have to come home to me," you paraphrase the words. It nearly feels like you are saying the words to Doyoung rather than quoting what he said to you earlier. After saying the words, you swallow the bitter feeling down with saliva.

"Oh, that," is the first response you receive back. Because you're so busy to get the symbolical bitter feeling off of the tip of your tongue, you don't hear the dry words that leave his lips. "I had a tough day and took it out on you, I'm sorry," he excuses himself. Doyoung is a storyteller, but you willingly take the words. Perhaps this is the one matter you do out of love.

You nod. You have no affair with tough days but fall for the temptation of an apology. "Sorry for saying those things," Doyoung apologises again before you have the chance to ask more questions. Not that you have many, just one: 'why?'

"Just know that I didn't mean anything I said, you have to trust me there," he adds. The more words he adds to the explanation, the fewer questions that remain for you to ask. Though it's known that liars generously overshare details, but you're not focussed on the convoluted sentence structure within the shared details.

Your head lightly moves up and down in a nodding motion, responding to his words. Even though a lie usually is told one-way, Doyoung still feels the need to hear a clear response from your mouth. "y/n, answer me. Do you trust me?"

There is a one-second gap between Doyoung's question and your answer. Something that could be seen as hesitation, but you hope Doyoung doesn't dig that far into details. "I trust you," you answer his demand after the slow-passing second.

Speedingly slow, Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time doesn't consist out of seconds, it seems like footsteps replace the ticking instead. The preventive safe di

So fast, yet, so slow. Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time no longer consist out of ticking seconds, replaced by the sound of Doyoung's footsteps. The preventive safe distance decreases with each step he takes towards you, each hesitating yet straightforward step. You swallow thickly as you anticipate his arrival. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps.

Unexpectedly, a pair of hands brush over your shoulders. Even if you anticipated the arrival of Doyoung, the sudden touch makes you raise your shoulders quickly. "It's just me," Doyoung states. His fingertips slowly start kneading your tense shoulders until your shoulders give in. With your shoulders hunched forward, you also let your head hang momentarily. The weight of the fight is lifted off of your shoulders, but not after a numbing fall.

August snow. Right now, it's rain, it seems.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ɪ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ"

Doyoung draws your attention to him with his eyes. Your own eyes ignore the reflection of the room in his eyes so that you can focus on what he's trying to tell you. You are able to decode the wordless message and translate the eye-contact into words: he wants you to follow him. As a response, you nod your head, not breaking the eye-contact.

As Doyoung walks past the circle of people and up the first few steps of the staircase, you do too in relay. You follow approximately four steps after him: enough for people to not suspect a thing, enough for you to continuously see his moving silhouette. Because you don't lose sight of him, it's easy to follow without having to check different possible directions.

In Doyoung's shadow, you shine. Taeyong's eyes fall on your distanced silhouette momentarily, not breaking the one-sided eye contact until you're out of sight. His eyes lower again and his body turns to his friend and fellow musician, Moon Taeil. "Do you know where y/n went?" He inquires. Taeil, who had been following almost every movement out of boredom, shakes his head. "Perhaps the bathroom, I thought she said something along the lines of that."

The subject "Doyoung," is one Taeyong doesn't ask questions about. First of all, because he hadn't seen Doyoung leaving the party behind. Second, because he wasn't suspicious or curious about his friend's whereabouts.

Stuffed far away in a corner, a place where Taeyong's eyes don't reach, are you and Doyoung. Doyoung arrives first and is casually leaning against the wall until your four-steps gap has been closed. Hearing your light footsteps, Doyoung silently counts the seconds until you come in his sight. His mouth not opening until all steps have been taken.

"Why did I have to come here?" You ask. Your voice is loud and clear, despite the music that almost interrupts you with each word that leaves your lips. A party is not a good place for a talk, but you're as far away from the music as you can, just as far as you are from humanity. Though, your summer sun is also human. "Is something wrong?"

Doyoung shakes his head. He responds to the latter question first, simply because he knows that you get nervous if you wouldn't get an answer to the question. "Don't worry, nothing is wrong," he says in a calming tone, but adjusts his volume halfway through the sentence. His calming voice isn't audible over the music.

"Then why are we here?"

Your curiosity provokes Doyoung to let out a small chuckle. You see the chuckle falling from his lips by the way his lip corners are tugged upwards and the change in his eyes. Though the sound itself is inaudible even if you can imagine what it would sound like. "I just wanted you to come here for a bit," he explains loudly over the sound of the music. "I haven't even been able to lay eyes on you for the past hours, let alone hold your hand."

You smile. Despite the voice not sounding so gentle, you know he means it. It's all due to the music that the words and the hue of them don't match as they should. "You want some alone-time?" You question. Doyoung greedily nods in response to your words, not wasting his vocal cords to just say one simple word.

Before your response is chanted, his arms are found around your engulfed body. One of his hands is resting on your lower back, as is the other until it removes from the mirrored spot towards your waist. Doyoung turns his head back, checking whether someone had found the unlead way to the hidden corner where you were. "Just for a few minutes," he tells you seriously after he turns his head to face you again.

Wordlessly, like before, you use your eyes to answer his question. You're aware that you shouldn't be here. The ring isn't on Doyoung's pinky, almost meaning that you're not his lover until the silver band is found around his finger again. Even though you're not his girlfriend now, you still comply with his words. The hidden thrill.

It's like an aphrodisiac, mixed with Pandora's box effect. For the first, and perhaps last time that evening, his lips contact yours. Sensually-coloured fireworks explode in the form of music, numbing all of your senses but the tingles in the pit of your stomach and the softness of his lips against yours.

The soft kiss is soon changed as Doyoung deepens the kiss. It doesn't take long for you to get used to the fiery aggressiveness of his kisses, after all, you enjoy the reasoning behind those kinds of kisses. His fingertips tighten around your flesh, grabbing your clothed waist until the localised skin discolours lightly due to the applied pressure.

"I don't think we should risk this, Dongyoung," you mumble against his parted lips. Your lips almost melt against his again, the inviting warmth making you shape your lips the same way he does. The mumbles disappear between the unheated gaps of air.

The sensuality boils in the pit of your stomach, rising up to your heart as Doyoung's tongue traces over your lips. Mapping every inch of your lips by tracing along the shape slowly, savouring the taste of liquor combined with the taste of you. Strategic touches went from your clothed waist to your bare waist, his fingertips slipping under the shirt to lightly caress over the skin. "Why?" He asks. As his words echo over the music, his five fingertips now grip onto your bare skin. "Tell me why and I'll stop."

Air leaves your lips as they part a bit more, unshaped for any prepared word or sentence. The shape changes as you try to configure the words that should be used in response. "Because," you start slowly, breathing deeply after the word leaves your lips. Seconds after the first word, the others follow. "I don't want to get caught and get us into trouble."

The words put a halt on the aphrodisiac that had been building up at a rapid pace. Your request can only make Doyoung comply, realising that without either of you knowing, someone could have seen the momentum of love. One last time, Doyoung's lips play with yours in a gentle kiss, a wordless goodbye for the upcoming hours of separation.

"We should continue this later," Doyoung says as he pulls away. His eyes reveal the hunger he feels in the depths of his body, drowning in lust for pleasure and you. When you hum in agreement, his eyes only intensify according to the peaked feelings in his body.

You reach for his hand, gently holding it in yours. The pads of your fingertip circle around each finger until you reach his pinky. Your fingertips don't spiral over the smallest finger, instead, they trace over the spot that would usually carry the silver band. Perhaps you're not his lover tonight, but, …

"Sounds like you should take me to your place, summer sun."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Doyoung pushes his glass upon the sink, pushing away the skin products that take their limited space there. He barely hears the can with shaving dream falling to the tiled floor, so he surely doesn't hear the plastic pump bottle of handsoap dropping to the floor.

The liquor is like a whirlpool in the glass. It almost spills past the edges but luckily the sea of alcohol slowly calms down after being let go of. Doyoung stares at the amber-coloured liquid, his eyes following the whirlpool until it completely stills within the glass. When it finally stills, his eyes tear away from it.

"Shower," he tells himself quietly. It's more like a self-reminder than a command. Even though the hot water is running, he fails to notice the starting smog in the room, thus forgets that the shower water is already running. His tired limbs start taking off remains of clothing but only one item is removed from his body: his underwear.

When his brain wraps itself around the thought of his underwear, he is capable of thinking back about last night. Simply because his underwear was the last remaining piece of clothing on his skin before a drunken night of pleasure with you. He briefly recalls the flavour of liquor on your lips, even though he was the one to spread that flavour. The feeling of your soft-skinned body against his, even though he treated it far from soft.

As water flows, so do his thoughts. His thoughts are like an uncontrolled stream of water, whilst the shower-head can easily control the flow. It's an endless stream: as shower water continues running, so do his thoughts. The shower is forgotten as he listens to his thoughts and memories, trying to relive them in the order that they happened. Did he see Taeyong flirting with you after he sensually kissed you? Did he kiss you sensually after Taeyong flirted with you?

The relived memories of Teayong bring fog to his mind, clouding all other memories. Out of nowhere, he starts comparing himself to his friend: is Taeyong as wealthy as he is? Does Taeyong have as many songs under his belt as he has? Can Taeyong please someone as he does? Is Teayong as beautiful as he is?

In particular, the last question seems to haunt his mind. It's something he can easily observe by comparing Taeyong's godly-given looks to his own. Just like the artwork "김서림" or "Fogged Mirror" by Uesong Lee, his own mirror above the sink is heavily fogged.

Cloudy. That's what the mirror looks like, and the one word that could describe what the weather was like up in his brain. Memories that he could recall seconds ago are replaced by grey clouds that only provoke him to compare himself to one of his friends.

He tilts his head upwards confidently, the way of being disappearing as fast as it came. His reflection is clouded with fog, almost like the summer sun that gets covered by a thick layer of clouds. Faintly, he can make out the colour of his hair and skin, but not more than those blurry visuals.

With his flat hand, he wipes over the mirror to see a distorted version of himself. The lack of usual scraping sound is what takes his attention, keeping his hand pressed on the reflective glass. He wipes once more, only hearing the almost-squeaking sound rather than the scraping.

His eyes meet the circumjacent parts around his hand. Many scratches left behind on the glass and his hand that seems to smooth over the scratches rather than adding more. His ring. The culprit. His finger is not dressed-up by the silver band, neither is the mirror tortured with a new scratch. Why wasn't it around his finger? After twelve hours of being home with you, the connecting ring still wasn't around his pinky.

"Doyoung, are you almost done?!"

Your voice hides panic but it doesn't stop you from sounding frantic even from the other side of the door. The look on your face is almost predictable, but still at a level that's never seen before. The electronic device is tightly engulfed in your hands, squeezing so hard that your warmth radiates to the device.

"I'm almost done, why?" His voice sounds just as frantic as yours does. His fogged mind now filled with panic after the imagination of you seeing the ring somewhere laying around. If you found out he slept with you without wearing his ring or even spent almost twenty-four hours without ring, you would be mad. Would you?

Both of you swallow thickly at the same time, something inaudible to the person on the other side of the door. "Just come out, Doyoung!" You say louder, angrier. As a response, Doyoung tries his best to clean up the bathroom as fast as he can. The untaken shower is still warm when the water gets turned off, the fallen bottles are brought back to their original spots. And the glass of alcohol is back in Doyoung's left hand.

Out of the hamper, are taken some old clothes that should have gotten washed rather than worn again. But the clothes still find their way around Doyoung's skin, covering up his bare body with his own scent. On the clothes, he can smell alcohol, sweat, his cologne: dirty but nothing unusual. It's the scent of him.

Once dressed and provided with the glass of alcohol, he opens the bathroom door. When you're not standing in front of the door as he expected, his footsteps hunt through the apartment in search for you.

The living room is the place where he looks for you first, and the place where his hunt stops. After eyeing you, his gaze drifts to the ring that is on the coffee table, neatly laying where it usually waits for Doyoung's arrival. Unlike other days, the piece of jewellery looks lonely.

"What's wrong?" Doyoung inquires. Your tense figure provokes him to do the same. His shoulders straight and his finger fumbling with one another, unknowingly he imitates the signs of stress you show.

"You would know if you checked your phone," you announce. Your own phone is tightly clutched between your fingertips and if you unlock it, you'd be faced with the consequences of stupidity. "I will look for my phone," Doyoung offers as his eyes wildly dart around. His phone isn't on the coffee table like his ring is, neither is it laying on the dinner table.

"Just leave it, I'll read it to you instead!" You huff. Are you angry? Or displeased? The many underlying hues in your voice makes Doyoung wonder what emotion it specifically is, and what he should do to result in the concept of positive emotion.

"Soloist Kim Doyoung admits to dating after a surfaced picture of the couple kissing and leaving a party together."

The headliner that is worded in many different ways on even more different gossip pages. More articles are written about the discovery than over the fact that idols should be allowed to date and find happiness with whoever they fancy. Twelve hours later than the occurrences of the kiss and the pictured flee, you went from unknown to identified.

You don't need to read any of the articles to understand what they consist of, the title says it all. Neither do you need to see the reactions of others, you already know the results. People will invade your privacy, see you less as a person and more as Doyoung's shadow, spread hate-filled words about you wherever they go.

"And, what do you think of that, hm?" You loudly question your lover. Doyoung is awfully quiet, even more, quiet than he is in his sleep, but that doesn't mean he's as peaceful as he is during his resting time. The little signs that he imitated before are now individual signs of stress: plucking his nails and then rubbing his fingertips together to soothe the pain. "What do you think of that? Is that why you badly wanted some 'alone-time' with me!?"

Last night's numbing music now remind you of camera flashes, it's a sound that endlessly repeats in your mind. It starts with one camera flash but suddenly your ears are overwhelmed with the imaginary sound of cameras flashing around you.

You're pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a loud slam. When your eyes find focus, you see Doyoung's fist against the wall, painfully crumbling down the wall after the harsh contact between the materials and his bone-filled body. "Shit!" He loudly curses.

"One reason which is love, that made me promise to keep us together. But as I grow taller, I crush down due to the high wall named 'reality'"

❧ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ : "ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟᴇʀ ꜱᴏ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ" ☙

"Have you sold out your voice?"

Doyoung's eyes tear away from the silver band that he's toying with between his fingers. First, his eyes meet the wildflowers before he looks at your sitting figure on the other side of the table. Out of shock, his fingertips momentarily halt their actions, as well as the ring, ends up being held between his thumb and index finger.

Memories invade the other thoughts once more: memories of breaking points in your relationship. Multiple factors caused the breaking point to approach sooner than expected. His addiction to alcoholic beverages, the hidden and yet exposed relationship, jealousy, the lack of time. Were those valid reasons to end the love song early? Maybe not, but it still happened.

It still happened. His vision starts to portray the day the love song ended tragically, he can already hear the passage that is usually called the intro. It opens the movement or a separate piece, preceding the theme or lyrics. The intro abruptly stops when a different sound is heard.

The sound of something dropping onto the wooden floor stops the ticking of the clock against the wall. Time seems to stand still and yet the object hits the floor before the fragment is paused. Doyoung's fingertips don't intervene: the silver band falls from his fingertips and onto the floor.

If only that sound had been included in the conclusion of the song, it would have completed the song structure perfectly. A tragic downfall before all ended, the music fading out sadly once the ring had been fallen. Though the song has been written, and this only belongs to a badly-written sequel.

Doyoung's eyes are quick to follow the untrammelled movements of the ring, eyeing the trail it could take before it barrels past his eyesight. He bends over his body slightly, reaching a little further so that his fingertips reach the floor. The ring comes to a halt, throwing itself down after one more ceremonial twirl. To pick it up, he allows his thumb to assist his index finger, holding it between his digits before he brings it up.

Your eyes intensely stare at the silver band between his fingertips, your eyes feasting on trying to recognise the familiar object. After scrutinising the object from a distance, realisation hits you like a brick. The ring. The ring that was an unspoken promise of your relationship, the almost cursed object was in your apartment, held by your faded summer sun.

Doyoung notices how your investigating gaze changes to an expression of shock. His eyes never leave yours, they stay focused on you, even when he straightens his body again and straightly sits on his chair. The moment, he's properly seated again, your body indicates that you want to get up.

Despite your body preparing itself to stand up, you stay seated. "Why are you here?" You question him. The shocked expression on your face transitions into something much darker. It's not anger, neither is it confusion. Your expression displays disapprobation, disapprobation towards his presence.

It's not you who stands up from the chair as your body tells you to do, it's Doyoung who takes initiative and straightens his posture after standing up. He doesn't respond to your question with words, but seeing the silver band that suddenly is around his pinky, the answer to the question is almost screamed out.

Just a few mere seconds after Doyoung gets up from his chair, he's already standing on the other side of the table. The side where your tensed body is seated on a chair, the side that he was able to see when he stared ahead of him, the side that allowed you to look at him. He takes in your appearance briefly: your tensed shoulders that you keep raised by your arms that lean upon the table, your gaze that is fixated to the current empty chair on the other side of the table.

To receive your attention, Doyoung wraps his hand around your upper arm, tugging at it lightly so that you would shift your gaze and body towards him. Though, your body is tense, barely moving despite his light tugs.

The second tug on your arm causes you to finally interact, stopping the ignorance because you want answers. You shift your attention to him by pulling your arm out of his grip as you stand up from the chair. You turn your body to face his and look at him with the same dark expression. "Why?! Why are you here?!"

You wait for an answer. Not longer than a few seconds before you run out of patience. It's not the first time your question is left unanswered, and for once, you're not willing to take silence as an answer. If he's here to apologise, then you want to hear it from his lips. If he's here to talk, you want to hear it coming from his mouth. If he's here because he 'accidentally' passed by, you want to hear the words coming from his vocal cords.

Your question only leaves Doyoung to look down, his lips sealed like there's a secret on the tip of his tongue. All of the questions you ever asked him are left unanswered, and this one might finish that list. Even if you say you're not willing to receive silence, you let it happen. "Leave, if you have nothing to say," you mumble before pushing your body past his. Your feet are lost within the own space of your apartment: are you heading to the door? Fleeing towards your bedroom? You don't even know.

Doyoung's feet follow your hesitating footsteps. Slowly and almost inaudible as you're standing still, so there's no need to rush. He halts his own feet a step behind the line where yours are perfectly aligned. Without being granted permission, his hands are placed on your shoulders before lowering towards your waist. Engulfing you in his arms.

The embrace lasts no longer than two seconds. Your body turns towards his again, breaking the physical contact. You want to step away from him again, flee towards a location that you have yet to figure out. You almost do, but Doyoung is fast to hold you back from doing so.

His flat hands place against both your cheeks, his fingers slowly curving in the form that your face is shaped in. Sometimes his thumb twitches, which is seen as a gentle caress over your facial structure. "Look at me, my beloved," he whispers, his lips barely moving but they're parted as a signal he just spoke.

And you do.

Tear-filled eyes stare into his. You look past the reflection of yourself, staring into the black-coloured pupils of Doyoung's eyes. Compared to your rheumy-looking eyes, his eyes are filled with much more sentiment. The wet layer on his eyes makes them shine, shine like the summer sun. Summer sun, a name you would affectionately call Kim Dongyoung.

Doyoung rests his forehead against the side of your face delicately. "I'm sorry," is all that leaves his lips the moment he feels your skin against his. As much as he wants the moment to last, his feelings start to run ahead of his actions.

A first kiss is placed on your cheek, but it doesn't stop there. It rarely does. His lips are quick to return homewards to yours. It's a gentle brush that indicates what both of you have been missing out on.

With your lips connected, a kiss is indicated. It doesn't start with a gentle peck, the kiss is deepened before it properly started. Doyoung's hands are lightly wrapped around your throat and jaw whilst your hands steadily grip onto his shirt.

With each short breath in between the kisses, they evolve towards something much more emotionally charged. Many feelings pour from mouth to mouth: lust, sadness, anger, desire. Love bubbles in the pit of your stomach but you can't taste its flavour upon Doyoung's lips.

"Summer sun," you mumble against his lips before you can stop yourself. The affectionate nickname making Doyoung's fingertips tighten around your throat, tugging a strand of hair along in the process. The feeling stimulates a quiet moan to slip from your opened lips.

Doyoung's tongue grazes between your upper and lower lip slowly, begging for permission to be a part of you. Your parted lips grant him wordless access to which he wastes no time to explore your mouth.

The amorous kiss allows you to feel the warmth behind Doyoung's parted lips, just as he feels the inviting warmth behind your lips. His tongue finds yours in an overlapping moment: what used to be a battle is now two puzzle pieces being perfectly aligned. As his tongue curves, yours does too around his. The heat becoming the glue that keeps the two of you together until each unidentified spot has been explored.

One hand moves away from your throat, trailing upwards to the back of your head. You're effortlessly pulled closer against Doyoung's body, causing his lips to press harder against yours during the kiss. You're left breathless, but Doyoung uses his last breath to give you a belated answer.

"I'm here because I want you back. You're my remedy."

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