#and then the main plot was a fucking mess

[iconchae]

SAY YES, yjw | 18+

PAIRING: bf ! yang jungwon × gf ! female reader. . . GENRE: angst, smut, slight fluff (?). . . SYNOPSIS: jungwon would never fully understand the depth of your pain or the weight of your struggles, but he can’t stand seeing you suffer alone. desperate to be close to you, he crosses all boundaries, his comforting words quickly turn into passionate actions as the two of you learn ‘things’ together and experience them. . . WARNING(S): kisses, nsfw, contains cuss words, mdni, smut, angst, too much plot lol, blowjob, handjob, pussy eating, cum eating, protected sex, inexperienced, mentions of abuse, shower sex, unprotected sex, slapping, mentions of suicide, lmk if I missed anything. . . WORD COUNT: 12k+

rina’s note: i wanted to make this a long fic so here I am, I hope i didn't bore y’all out by going into the depths of it all. I kind of changed the main plot so it is more of a ‘trying sex for the first time’ typa thing. there's too much plot, skip if you want straight up smut— ig so

Jungwon’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at you, standing dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping your hair wildly around your face. His voice trembled as he called out, his throat dry with fear. "Are you crazy?" His eyes were wide, filled with both disbelief and panic as you stood on the precipice, one step away from a deadly drop.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze fixed on the vast, open sky in front of you. The horizon blurred into a dull mix of oranges and reds, a sunset that should’ve been beautiful, but for you, was nothing more than a backdrop to your despair. “Yeah, say whatever you want. I’ll be gone soon,” you replied quietly, your voice hollow, void of any emotion.

Jungwon’s body tensed as you lifted your foot, hovering over the edge, contemplating the final step that would send you plummeting into the abyss. His heart raced even faster, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Come back here!" he yelled, panic lacing his words, but his plea went unheard as you teetered closer to the edge, ready to give up on everything. Time seemed to slow as he watched your figure leaning into the nothingness, and in that split second, his body moved on instinct.

He surged forward, grabbing your arm with a desperate force and yanking you back against him just as your toes grazed the empty air. The impact of your body colliding with his chest knocked the breath out of both of you, and you were pressed firmly against him, his arms wrapping around your waist in a fierce grip.

"Fucking stupid!" he shouted, his voice breaking as his breath came in ragged gasps. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his grip on you so tight it was almost painful, but you didn’t struggle. Instead, you stood frozen in his arms, reality finally sinking in—what you had almost done, what he had just saved you from.

He pulled you further away from the cliff’s edge, his hands trembling slightly as he guided you back toward the safety of the school terrace. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground, but the warmth of the day still lingered in the air. It felt at odds with the cold, hollow feeling in your chest.

Once you were both far from the cliff’s edge, Jungwon spun you around to face him, his eyes searching yours, a mixture of anger, fear, and relief swirling in his dark gaze. "Why the hell did you even try to end your life?!" he demanded, his voice louder than usual, raw and broken.

You blinked, the weight of the moment crashing down on you like a wave. His question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory, and you realized just how close you had come to the edge—physically, mentally. A lump formed in your throat as you fumbled for words, guilt and shame suddenly overwhelming you. “But… everything is a mess…”

Jungwon’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again, his brows furrowed in frustration. “And you think a mess can’t be picked up and cleaned?” His words were harsh, almost biting, but there was something else underneath—a desperation to make you see reason, to pull you back from the darkness that had consumed you.

You gave a bitter laugh, shaking your head as your eyes dropped to the ground. "You’re saying it like it’s so simple. You’re saying it from a third-person point of view. You don’t know what it feels like. How could you possibly—"

"Just shut up." His voice cut through your words like a knife, his hands still gripping your arms, though his hold had loosened, his fingers less tense now. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked like he was fighting back his own emotions, trying to stay strong for both of you.

The silence that followed was thick, the only sound being the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. His jaw clenched as he stared at you, disbelief still etched into his features. How could his best friend—someone who had always seemed so strong, so put-together—be standing here, on the verge of throwing everything away? How could you even consider doing this?

You finally glanced up at him, your voice small. “You’re mad at me.”

"Damn right, I’m mad," Jungwon muttered, his fingers tightening just a little on your arms, but not enough to hurt. “I’m mad because you didn’t even talk to me. Because you tried to handle this on your own, and now—” He stopped, his throat constricting as his gaze softened. “I’m mad because I almost lost you."

Your breath hitched at the raw honesty in his words, and you suddenly felt a pang of regret. The depth of his feelings, the fear in his eyes—it hit you all at once. You had been selfish, you realized. Caught up in your own pain, you had forgotten that there were people who cared, people who would be devastated if you were gone.

“I’m sorry…” The words fell from your lips in a whisper, barely audible, but Jungwon heard them. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though his eyes never left yours.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again,” he said quietly, the desperation in his voice still lingering. His hand slid from your arm, his touch gentle now as if afraid you might break.

You nodded, the weight of everything still heavy on your chest. “I promise.”

For the first time since he pulled you back from the cliff, Jungwon’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go that easily.”

But did that change anything? Not really. Even as your best friend, Jungwon, kept calling, you declined every single one of his attempts to reach out. His name would light up your phone screen, his calls persistent at first, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The guilt gnawed at you, yet somehow, avoiding him felt easier than facing the weight of everything that had happened.

Days bled into weeks. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that day on the cliff. The school holidays provided a convenient escape, no awkward encounters in the hallways, no forced conversations during lunch. You didn’t have to see his concerned eyes or hear the questions you weren’t ready to answer.

But it also left you alone. And that isolation, once a refuge, slowly began to feel suffocating.

A sharp sting burned on your cheek, then another, each slap more painful than the last. You felt it deep in your bones—this was abuse. But how could you speak against your own father? The man who provided you a roof over your head, food to eat, clothes on your back. The man who was supposed to protect you but instead delivered blow after blow.

You lay curled up in your small room, the door locked behind you. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating you in this place that should’ve been a home but had turned into a prison. The muffled sounds of your mother’s cries filled the air from just outside your door, followed by the sickening thud of fists. You flinched, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, as if it could block out the horrors on the other side of the door.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the moment, an unknown number flashing across the screen. You hesitated but answered, desperate for a distraction, for anything to take you away from this nightmare, if only for a second.

“Don’t even think about declining this,” a familiar voice spoke through the line, low and firm. Jungwon.

Your breath hitched. How had he found out?

"Can I come over now?" His question was soft but edged with concern, and yet, your heart sank at the thought. You froze, your grip tightening around the phone as you glanced toward the door where the sounds of violence persisted. No, he couldn’t see this. You couldn’t let him witness the chaos behind these walls.

“No... I’m really fine, Jungwon.” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

There was silence on the other end, then a harsh sigh. “Stupid girl, I can hear you sobbing.”

His voice was gentle despite the harsh words, the contrast making your chest ache. The tears you had tried so hard to hold back fell freely now, soaking your pillow. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the sobs. The last thing you needed was for him to hear more of your weakness.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just don’t bother me.”

And with that, you ended the call.

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, as if it could absorb the agony that threatened to spill over. You couldn’t drag him into this mess. Jungwon deserved better than the broken shards of your life. He didn’t need to see the shattered pieces of your family or the way you crumbled beneath the weight of it all. He couldn’t fix it. No one could.

Outside, the noise continued, your mother’s cries piercing through the air, but you pressed your hands over your ears, trying to block it out. You curled into yourself, wishing—praying—that somehow, you could disappear.

The days stretched into weeks, and soon enough, six months had passed. Six long months of silence, of unanswered calls and unread messages. You thought you could avoid the inevitable, thought you could lock yourself away from the world and from him. But luck has never been on your side.

It was just an ordinary evening. You were alone, waiting for a pizza delivery. The knock on the door came just as you expected, and without thinking, you rushed to answer, already imagining the cheesy comfort waiting inside the box.

"Pizza?" you murmured absentmindedly as you reached out, grabbing the box from the man standing there in a red cap. You didn’t even spare him a glance. After all, the bill had already been paid online. You were about to close the door when a foot wedged itself in, stopping it from shutting all the way.

Before you could even react, the man pushed the door open. Panic surged through your veins, your heartbeat quickening as you were about to scream—but then he ripped off the mask and cap.

“Jungwon?” His name left your lips in a confused whisper.

He stood in your apartment now, locking the door behind him, his face a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “What the hell?” you muttered, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I should be the one saying that!” he snapped, his voice louder than you'd ever heard it. He took a step closer, and you instinctively backed away. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you block me? It’s been six fucking months!” His words echoed in the small space, anger laced with hurt.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Guilt clawed at your insides as you stared at the floor, your voice small, barely audible. “I—”

“You what?” he interrupted, his voice softening only slightly. “You should’ve come to me instead of shutting me out. I care about you. Do you get that?” His words were raw, the emotion clear as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. His breath was warm against your neck as he buried his face in your shoulder, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

That’s when it happened—the sob. It came out of nowhere, and before you could stop it, tears were streaming down your cheeks, your body trembling in his arms.

Jungwon froze. He hadn’t meant to make you cry. “Wait, did I... did I yell too much?” His voice cracked slightly, unsure and a little panicked. But then, as he pulled away to look at you, his eyes caught something else—a dark bruise peeking out from under the sleeve of your shirt. His expression shifted, concern and anger mixing together.

“Was it... your dad?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, so you just nodded, tears still flowing as you pressed your face into his chest again, the sobs shaking your whole body. Jungwon stiffened, helpless in the face of your pain. It wasn’t the first time. He’d seen the marks before, felt the weight of your silence over the months.

He didn’t know what to do, not really. He wasn’t good at handling these things—feelings, emotions. So instead, he did what he always did when words failed him. He reached for the pizza box.

“Hey... let’s eat,” he mumbled, trying to sound lighthearted, though his voice was still thick with worry. “The pizza’s gonna get cold.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as you glanced at the box. He was right—who could say no to food, especially pizza? Jungwon sat you down on the couch, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as if afraid you might break. He wiped the last of your tears with the sleeve of his jacket, his touch careful, almost tender.

The box opened with a familiar squeak, and the smell of melted cheese and garlic filled the room, momentarily lifting the heavy atmosphere. He picked up a slice, the cheese stretching from the crust, and held it out to you.

“Come on,” he coaxed gently, holding the slice up to your lips. You hesitated, still sniffling, but eventually gave in, taking a small bite. He watched you closely, his eyes soft as he smiled, relieved when you didn’t pull away or retreat into your shell again.

You chewed quietly, the warmth of the pizza slowly easing the ache in your chest. Jungwon fed you another bite, then another, as if the simple act of sharing food could patch up the cracks in your world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said suddenly, his voice steady but quiet. “Not until you stop shutting me out. You’re stuck with me.”

For the first time in months, a small, fragile smile tugged at the corners of your lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you wiped the tears from your cheeks and took another bite of the pizza, you finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at you for months.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Your voice was small, but it carried the weight of your confusion, your walls still up even though you sat here with him, sharing a meal like nothing had changed.

Jungwon didn’t hesitate. “Because I love you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He didn’t make a big show of it—he just said it while stuffing his mouth with another bite of pizza, crumbs falling onto his lap, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

You froze mid-bite. The pizza in your hand suddenly felt heavier, like it was too much to hold. Love. That word had always felt dangerous, especially coming from someone who mattered. Your heart raced, but instead of joy or excitement, a chill of fear ran down your spine. Your eyes darted toward the door. What if your parents came home? What if they saw you like this, with a boy, alone in your apartment?

“You should leave,” you blurted, the words stumbling out of your mouth.

Jungwon frowned, his brows knitting together. “Why?”

“Because my dad—” you started, but then remembered the one small mercy of the day. “He’ll be back later.”

“You said he’s gone for the day,” Jungwon reminded you, still chewing on a slice of pizza. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave before he comes.”

Relief washed over you momentarily, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. He was right. You had a little more time. So the two of you continued to eat, now with a second pizza box sitting on the coffee table—the actual delivery guy had come not long after Jungwon’s dramatic entrance, dropping off a few dumplings along with your order.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the sound of chewing filling the room as you stuffed your faces, the dumplings soft and savory, the pizza cheesy and still warm.

But Jungwon, ever the one to ruin the quiet moments, spoke up again. His voice was softer this time, cautious, like he was stepping into dangerous territory. “Why have you been avoiding me, though?”

You looked at him, blinking in confusion as you wiped crumbs off your lips. “Avoiding what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, slower this time, letting the words hang in the air between you. “Say it back.”

Your heart clenched. He was waiting for an answer, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. “I— I’m afraid.”

Jungwon’s face softened, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. “Afraid of what?”

You bit your lip, staring down at the half-eaten pizza in your hand. The words were hard to say, but you forced them out. “Afraid of loving someone. What if they—”

“You think I’ll turn out like your father?” he cut you off, his voice laced with disbelief and hurt.

You froze. The air between you shifted, growing heavier with each passing second. His eyes bore into you, the hurt clear in his expression. You wanted to deny it, to take back the unspoken accusation, but you couldn’t. Instead, you just sat there, silent, your guilt wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

“I—” you started, but the words died in your throat.

“So you do.” His voice was low, filled with disappointment. His shoulders slumped, and he looked away, hurt written all over his face. The boy who had burst into your home with so much fire and determination was now quiet, deflated.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon,” you whispered, the apology sounding hollow, even to you.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, but the way he said it told you it wasn’t fine at all. His tone was distant, half-hearted, as if the words barely mattered now. He picked up another slice of pizza, though the enthusiasm from earlier was gone. He chewed slowly, not really tasting it anymore, his eyes focused on the floor.

You sat there, the silence between you heavy and oppressive, both of you nibbling on your food but no longer enjoying it. The pizza that once tasted so good now felt like ash in your mouth, and the room, once filled with warmth and comfort, now felt cold.

Jungwon wiped his hands on a napkin, the sound of the crumpling paper breaking the silence. He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his head tilted toward the ceiling as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. You wanted to say something, to fix the mess you had made, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was sit there, your hands trembling slightly as you held the half-eaten slice, unsure of what to do next.

The tension hung in the air like a cloud, neither of you knowing how to break it. The food sat on the table, forgotten, as you both struggled with your own emotions, neither ready to face the truth that had been laid bare between you.

And yet, despite the silence, despite the hurt, he didn’t leave. Jungwon stayed. Even when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you thought you were unlovable. He stayed.

Jungwon lingered by the door, his hesitation palpable. The quiet of the room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and lingering doubts. He had finally agreed to leave, his resolve hardening as he prepared to step out of the apartment. But his hand rested on the doorknob, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of frustration and hope.

"You won’t block me again, right?" he asked, his voice strained, the edges of his words betraying his fear of being shut out once more.

You felt a lump in your throat, sadness gripping you tightly. "I will try," you muttered, the admission hanging heavily in the air between you. His disappointment was clear, a visible ache in his eyes as he took in your response.

Jungwon’s expression softened slightly, though his skepticism remained. "I understand," he said, but the words lacked conviction. He was still waiting for something more, something that would reassure him of your sincerity.

Before he could leave, you found yourself reaching out, clutching his hand in a desperate bid to keep him there. "Jungwon, I’m sorry. I don’t believe you to be the same as my dad," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "I understand," he repeated, but his tone was guarded, as if he was trying to protect himself from further hurt. Yet, when you continued, your voice softer but firm, his expression shifted.

"I love you too, Jungwon," you pleaded, the words escaping in a rush of vulnerability. The confession was not just an apology but a revelation, a desperate plea for him to stay.

He looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You’re saying it for the sake of it," he accused, his voice tinged with skepticism.

The accusation stung, and your eyes welled up with tears. You tried to bridge the gap between your heart and his with honesty. "I’m being honest," you insisted, your voice breaking. "I do love you, Jungwon." But even as you said it, you felt a pang of uncertainty, a hesitation that made you question whether your feelings were as genuine as you wanted them to be.

Jungwon's gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours for the truth. "Say it while looking into my eyes," he demanded, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, yet gently. The door was still closed, the world outside forgotten in the face of this emotional confrontation.

You hesitated, the weight of his demand pressing down on you. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the earnestness and care that had been so evident in him all along. The vulnerability you had felt in those long months of silence, the yearning to connect with him, surged to the surface.

“I love you,” you said, the words coming from a place deep within your heart. The confession was more than just an acknowledgment of your feelings; it was a declaration of the truth you had been avoiding. The pain of the past six months, the longing to speak to him, the realization that he had been the only one who truly cared—it all culminated in those three words.

Jungwon’s eyes softened as he took in your declaration. He let go of your shoulders, his expression a mix of relief and continued uncertainty. He stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the cold weight of your fears.

"How could I not love you?" you whispered, the question more to yourself than to him, but it was clear. The truth of your feelings, once hidden and doubted, now stood revealed. You had missed him, craved his presence, and needed him more than you had ever admitted.

Jungwon pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective cocoon. The tears on your cheeks were wiped away by his thumb, his touch tender despite the earlier conflict. "We’ll figure this out," he murmured, his voice soothing as he held you close. "We’ll take it one step at a time."

The world outside felt distant, the only reality that mattered was the one in his arms, where the past six months of silence and fear began to unravel. The pizza boxes and dumplings lay forgotten on the table, their warmth a reminder of the connection you had almost lost but had now found again.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, the emotional turmoil slowly settled into a fragile sense of hope. Jungwon's presence was a beacon of reassurance, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, love had the power to heal and bridge the gaps of misunderstanding.

As the months have passed, the initial awkwardness of your relationship has given way to a comfortable familiarity. You and your best friend-turned-lover have grown accustomed to each other's presence, often finding yourselves curled up on the couch together, lost in conversation or simply enjoying each other's company.

His voice is low and patient, guiding you through the motions as his hand covers yours. Your fingers tentatively wrap around his cock, mirroring his movements. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing against your palm, his warm breath against your neck as he leans down to kiss you softly. "Like that,"

His voice is a husky whisper against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand tightens over yours, guiding it slower, then faster, creating a rhythm that hitches your breath. You can feel him hardening further against your touch, his hips bucking gently into your grip.

"Feel that?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he guides your hand up and down his length. "That's you touching me." His breath hitches when you wrap your other hand around to cup him, your fingers brushing against sensitive skin. "Just like that,"

"You're... you're so warm," you whisper, your voice hitching as your thumbs brush against the velvety tip. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. "And so big..." He groans, his hips jerking forward, his hands squeezing yours tighter around him.

"I-I want to touch you too," he stammers, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of red. His hands hesitate, hovering over your thighs before slowly inching upward, his touch light and uncertain. "Is this... is this okay?"

"Mhm..." you breathe out, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his tentative fingers trace the hem of your skirt. His touch is like a spark against your skin, making you acutely aware of every inch of your body. "You can... you can go under..."

His fingers tremble slightly as he lifts the hem of your skirt, his gaze fixated on the soft fabric of your panties. He looks up at you, seeking permission, his heart pounding in his chest. You nod, and he lets out a shaky breath before slowly sliding his hand underneath your underwear.

"Oh..." you gasp, your back arching into him as he finds your center. His touch is exploratory, his fingers tracing your folds as if committing every detail to memory. "You're... you're wet," he breathes out, his voice laced with wonder and a hint of nervousness.

As he explores you, his own breath hitches in rhythm with your touches. His hips jerk forward, pushing into your fist as your hands continue to stroke him. "You... you feel so good," he pants, his voice strained, his fingers mirroring your rhythm against your core. "Like..."

"...like silk," he whispers, his fingers gliding through your wetness as he discovers your sensitive spots. "So smooth and warm." He looks up at you, his eyes glassy with desire, his face flushed. "Can I... can I put my finger inside you?"

"Yes," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please..." You guide his finger to your entrance, holding his gaze as he pushes it inside you. He lets out a soft gasp, his finger sinking deeper into your heat as he starts to curl it. "Oh god..."

He curls his finger inside you, feeling the tight, untouched walls of your vagina hug his finger tightly. He looks at you in awe, his eyes wide with wonder as he realizes he's the first person to ever be inside you. "You're so... so tight," he whispers, his voice shaking.

"And you're... so big," you pant, your hands squeezing him tighter as he withdraws slightly, only to push back in deeper. "I've never... never felt this way..." Your words trail off into a moan as he finds that spot inside you that makes your insides clench.

His face contorts in concentration, his brows furrowing as he tries to hold back. "You... you're gripping me so tightly," he hisses, his voice barely a whisper. "If you keep that up, I'm... I'm gonna... "

"...I'm gonna cum," he chokes out, his finger moving frantically inside you as he fights against the urge. But it's no use, the sensation of your tight, virgin hole is too much for him to handle.

His movements become erratic, his finger pistonning in and out of you as his breath hitches against your neck. His hips thrust into your grasp, his hot seed pulsing onto your fingers as he moans softly, burying his face against your shoulder. "I'm so... so sorry..."

Tears well up in your eyes as a mix of overwhelming sensations flood through you. Your insides feel deliciously sore from his finger, your body tensing as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "Ow..." you whimper, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

He stiffens behind you, his body tensing as he realizes the reason behind your tears. His finger stills inside you, his body shuddering as he looks at the tears on your cheeks. "Oh god, I'm so sorry..." He gently withdraws from you, cradling you against his chest.

"Don't... don't leave..." you hiccup, turning in his arms to face him. He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft, apologetic kisses on your skin.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry if I hurt you. That wasn't supposed to happen. Not like that. Not our first time..." His voice trails off, his face flushing with embarrassment.

You sniffle, nuzzling against his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. "It's okay... it's just... it's new. It's... intense," you explain softly, your voice steadying. "But... it's not your fault. We're learning together..."

He sighs in relief, hugging you tightly against him. "Right. Learning together," he repeats, his voice filled with gratitude. "And I promise, next time will be better. I'll be more careful, more gentle..." He trails off, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The silence between you two was suffocating. After what had happened, you both found yourselves drifting, not in your feelings for each other but in the inability to navigate the awkwardness that came after. There was no guidebook for this—everyone talked about sex, whispered secrets and stories of excitement, but no one ever mentioned the part that followed. The silence. The shy avoidance. The lingering discomfort.

You avoided talking to Jungwon for days, each time you crossed paths, your eyes darting elsewhere, your heart thudding in your chest. It wasn’t because you didn’t care for him; it was because the weight of what had happened—the intimacy, the vulnerability—felt too heavy to put into words. You weren’t sure how to approach him, how to continue like everything was the same. And maybe it wasn’t the same. Something had changed between you two, but no one had taught you how to deal with that change.

Jungwon’s home had become your escape, a sanctuary from the chaos that awaited you back in your own. His parents had always welcomed you with open arms, offering warmth and safety in a way your own home never did. It was easier to stay at his place, easier to smile and laugh with his family, easier to forget the gnawing ache of shame and fear that clung to you whenever you returned to your father’s house.

But you couldn’t stay away forever.

When you did finally go home, it was always late, always when you were too tired to think about anything but sleep. You would slip quietly into your room, locking the door behind you, hoping that tonight would be one of the quieter nights. But then, the inevitable happened. The sound of something shattering echoed through the walls, sharp and jagged, followed by the familiar sound of your father’s raised voice—angry, slurred, chaotic. Your body tensed immediately, heart pounding in your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing for the noise to stop.

Another crash. The sound of something breaking against the wall, and you knew—another plate, another bottle, another item sacrificed to your father’s rage. You curled up on your bed, knees pulled to your chest as the noise continued. You had learned to brace yourself, to keep the panic at bay, but it never got easier.

And then, a sound from your window startled you out of your thoughts. A soft knock, hesitant but insistent. You turned, your breath catching as you saw Jungwon’s familiar face peering through the glass. His eyes were wide with concern, his breath fogging up the window as he knocked again, mouthing your name.

Without thinking, you rushed to open it, quietly unlatching the window and sliding it up just enough for him to slip through. “What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice a mixture of surprise and panic as you helped him inside. His hands were cold, and his body brushed against yours as he climbed into the room.

Jungwon gave you a sheepish smile, his eyes flickering to the door where the sounds of your father’s outburst still echoed faintly. “I wanted to talk to you… we haven’t, you know, talked in a while. And then I heard your dad...”

His words trailed off, the concern in his eyes clear. You could feel the lump in your throat forming, a mixture of embarrassment and helplessness that made you want to shrink away. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor. “I didn’t want you to—”

Before you could finish, Jungwon pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, comforting embrace. His chin rested on top of your head, his hands gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. The tension in your body melted slightly as he held you, his presence grounding you, making the chaos outside feel a little less suffocating.

“Why were you avoiding me?” he whispered into your hair, his voice soft and full of concern. “Was it something I did? Was I too rough or...?”

You swallowed, your throat tight with the weight of your own feelings. You shook your head, not able to meet his eyes. “No, it wasn’t that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just... it was awkward, you know? After everything.”

Jungwon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face for answers, but there was no accusation there, only understanding. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t have to be awkward,” he said gently, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “We can talk about it. We’re figuring this out together, right?”

His words were meant to comfort, but the reality of it all still felt heavy. The awkwardness of crossing that line of intimacy, the weight of your father’s violence lingering in the background—it all felt too much to bear. But as Jungwon sat down on the edge of your bed, his familiar presence a reminder of everything good, you knew that avoiding him wouldn’t solve anything. He was here, and he cared. Maybe that was enough for now.

He reached over and flicked the switch, plunging the room into darkness. The only sound was the muffled argument coming from downstairs, their parents' voices rising and falling in a heated debate. He moved to the curtains, pulling them closed to block out the faint moonlight peeking through the gaps.

The dim light cast long, dancing shadows on the walls as he turned back to face you. His hands trembled slightly as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, crinkled square - a condom. He hesitated, his cheeks flushing red, before finally blurting out, "Can we...?"

"Can we...?" he repeated softly, his voice barely audible over the distant quarrel. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting to meet yours then quickly flicking away, like a nervous bird. "Can we... have actual... you know...?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed his words. Actual sex. With him. Here. Now. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and terror swirling in your stomach. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "I... I don't know,"

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a secret. "I can forget about it if you want. Pretend I never said anything." His hands fidgeted with the condom, crumpling the foil between his fingers. He was nervous too.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his as you took the crumpled foil from him. His breath hitched at the contact, and he looked up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You unfolded the condom, the quiet rustle of the package breaking the tense silence.

"No... I want this too," you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. You looked down, unable to meet his gaze, as you slowly began to unbutton your shirt. He watched, enraptured, his eyes following your fingers as they revealed more of your skin. "Really?"

You nodded, still focused on your task. You shrugged out of your shirt, letting it drop to the floor. As you began to get out of your shorts, he hesitantly reached out, his hands mirroring yours as he too started to undress.

Your hands froze mid-action, the unbuckled waistband of your jeans gaping open. The heated argument downstairs escalated, the sound of shattered glass punctuating your father's angry words. You bit your lip, uncertainty written all over your face. "What if... what if dad knows you're in?"

He paused, his own shirt halfway unbuttoned. His eyes flicked to the closed door, then back to you, concern etched on his face. He finished unbuttoning his shirt, the material rustling softly as he shrugged it off. "We'll be quiet," he promised, his voice low and steady.

He stepped closer, his bare chest inches from yours. The heat from his body radiated onto yours, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in. "We can... take it slow," he murmured, his hands tentatively resting on your hips. "And if you want me to stop... just say it..."

You nodded, leaning back on the bed as he gently laid you down. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he crawled onto the bed beside you. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand tracing patterns on your bare stomach, his touch feather-light. "We'll be quiet,"

He leaned down, his mouth finding your center through your shorts. He kissed and sucked through the fabric, his hands gently pushing your legs apart as he went down on you. The sound of his mouth on your pussy was muffled by the fabric, but the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he kissed through your shorts. "I've never... done this before," he admitted, his voice muffled. "But I want to make you feel good." You bit your lip, your heart racing as you were reminded that he was a virgin too.

"Show me what you like," he whispered, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to kiss and suck through the fabric. You tentatively guided his head, showing him the pressure and rhythm that drove you wild. He followed your guidance eagerly, his own inexperience fueling his enthusiasm. "Like that?"

"Yes... just like that," you panted, your head falling back against the pillow. He doubled his efforts, his touch becoming more confident with each passing moment. The room filled with the sounds of your labored breaths and the soft, muffled noises of his mouth on you. "Please..."

His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shorts and slipped them down your legs, leaving you in just your soaked-through panties. He kissed the fabric, his warm breath sending shivers through your body. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled your panties aside and buried his face between your folds.

His tongue was tentative at first, exploring your wet warmth with shy curiosity. It curled and licked, learning your folds, your ridges, your hole. You could feel his inexperience in every uncertain flick, but it only made the moment more precious. He was learning your body, mapping out your secrets with his tongue.

"Oh, God..." you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he found your most sensitive spot. He latched onto it, sucking gently as he swirled his tongue around it. Your legs trembled, your hips rising off the bed as you sought more of his mouth.

"Shh..." he hissed softly, lifting his head for a moment. His face was glistening, his chin shiny with your essence. "Your dad might hear..." He ducked his head back down, his hands gripping your hips to keep you from bucking too wildly.

He continued his ministrations, his tongue a blur as he ate at you like a starving man. Your quiet whimpers were muffled by his mouth, your legs shaking violently as the pressure built inside you. He didn't stop, didn't relent, even when you thought you couldn't take it anymore.

"I... I don't know if I can be quiet..." you panted, your voice barely audible. Your body tensed, your legs squeezing around his head as the first waves of release hit you. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and worried. "Try, okay? For me?"

"Okay... okay, I'll try..." you gasped, biting down hard on your fist to stifle your cries. His tongue slid inside you, pushing deep as the first wave crested. Your body clamped down on him, your insides pulsing around his intrusion.

He swallowed your sounds, his throat working as he fought to keep you quiet. Your pussy squeezed him tightly, rippling around his tongue as he lapped at your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. Finally, you managed to choke back a cry, your hips jerking against his face as you came hard.

He lifted his head, his face a picture of smug satisfaction. His mouth and chin were shiny with your release, his hair disheveled from your desperate fingers. "Good job," he praised softly, kissing your inner thigh. He sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Can I... can we try...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he looked down at his hardened length. He was tentatively stroking himself, his hand moving up and down his length with uncertainty. You nodded, your eyes wide as you looked at his manhood for the first time.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands shaking as he guided himself to your entrance. He pressed the head against your hole, his face contorting with concentration. "This might... it might hurt a little," he warned, his voice barely a whisper.

"Condom!" you hissed, your eyes flying wide open. He let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, condom..." He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a crinkly square. He tore it open with shaking hands and rolled it onto himself with a grimace.

He lined himself up again, his breathing growing heavier. He leaned down to kiss you, his mouth covering yours as he slowly pushed forward. You felt a brief, sharp pain as he broke through, your nails digging into his back. He froze, his face buried in your neck. "You okay?"

"Y-yes... keep going..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. He nodded, his brow furrowing with concentration as he slowly eased the rest of the way in. You could feel every inch of him, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness.

He pushed forward, and you felt the sudden, sharp pain as your hymen gave way. You let out a soft cry, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound. He froze, his body stiff as he realized what had happened. "Oh God, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

He held perfectly still, his heart pounding against your chest. After a moment, he carefully pulled back until just the head of his dick was inside you, then pushed back in gently. He repeated this process a few times, each push and pull sending small jolts of pain through your tender flesh.

You hissed softly through clenched teeth, your nails digging into his back as you tried to bear the discomfort. He kept his movements slow and gentle, his face contorted with effort as he tried to hold back. "You're so tight... it's so good..." he breathed, his voice hoarse with restraint.

After a few more slow thrusts, the pain began to ease, replaced by a strange, pleasurable pressure. You relaxed a little, your legs unwinding from around his waist. He took this as a sign to continue, his hips picking up a gentle rhythm as he slid in and out of your virgin hole.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as his pace quickened. He was being as gentle as he could, but his body had a mind of its own. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours filled the room, mingling with your soft whimpers and his ragged breathing.

As he thrust into you, he felt a sudden wetness. He looked down between your bodies, his eyes widening as he saw the blood staining the condom. He let out a low groan, his hips stuttering as he realized that he was taking your virginity.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his mouth covering yours as he tried to distract you from the discomfort. He thrust deep, filling you completely as he groaned against your lips. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but your body was too much.

You bit your lip hard to muffle your cries, burying your face in his neck as he continued to move inside you. The headboard banged against the wall with each thrust, the sound echoing loudly through the house. You prayed that your dad's hearing aid was off, so he wouldn't hear.

Jungwon covered your mouth with his hand, muffling your noises as he increased his pace. He was so close, his body tensing with each snap of his hips. "I'm so sorry... I'm so close... I can't stop..." he panted, his eyes locked with yours.

You nodded, your eyes wide with trust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to thrust into you. The pressure was building inside you too, a heat spreading through your belly as he hit a spot deep inside.

With a choked cry, Jungwon buried his face in your neck, his hips stuttering as he came inside you. The condom strained against his shaft, the blood from your virginity leaking out around it. He held you tightly, his breath ragged against your skin as he tried to calm his racing heart.

He slowly lifted his head, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. You nodded weakly, your body languid from the intense experience. He carefully pulled out, making a face as he saw the blood-stained condom. "I'm so sorry..."

He quickly cleaned you up, his touch gentle as he wiped away the evidence of your lost innocence. He disposed of the condom in the trash, flushing bright red as he realized that he had just taken your virginity in your house. "We should be more careful next time..."

He helped you off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist as you leaned against him for support. "Come on, let's clean up," he murmured, his voice soft with embarrassment. You nodded weakly, your legs still shaky as he led you to the bathroom. "You can barely walk..."

He turned on the shower, helping you step inside before joining you himself. The warm water felt soothing against your skin, but you couldn't shake off the lingering awkwardness. Jungwon stood behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you against his chest. "We're such idiots,"

"We are," you agreed softly, letting out a nervous laugh. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his hands roaming up to cup your breasts. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your eyes closed as you let out a soft moan. "Jungwon... we can't... not again..."

"Shh, just relax," he whispered, his fingers gently squeezing your nipples. The water continued to pour down, washing away the evidence of your lovemaking. Jungwon's other hand reached between your legs, his fingers gently rubbing your sensitive folds. "You're so sore..."

"Mmm... It's okay, we won't do it again... just let me take care of you," he murmured, his fingers gently cleaning you up. He turned off the shower and helped you out, wrapping you in a fluffy towel. He gently dried you off, his touch tender and caring.

Jungwon carried you out of the bathroom and back to the bed, carefully laying you down before climbing in beside you. He pulled the covers over both of you, cuddling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Just rest for now," he whispered, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

You nuzzled against his chest, feeling content and sleepy. But then reality hit you, and you tensed up. "Jungwon... what if my dad comes in?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. He stiffened, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"You're right... I should go," he murmured, reluctance clear in his voice. He carefully untangled himself from you and got out of bed, quickly dressing. You sat up, pulling the covers around you as you watched him. "I'll call you later, okay?"

You bit your lip, nodding. "Okay... be careful," you whispered. He crossed the room and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the window. "I'll climb out the window. I don't want your dad to see me leaving," he explained in a low voice.

He pushed the window open and climbed out, waving at you before dropping down onto the lawn below. You watched as he straightened up and jogged away, disappearing into the darkness. You closed the window and locked it before climbing back into bed, your mind racing with thoughts of what had just happened.

The busy street buzzed with life, but all Jungwon could think about was shaking Mira off. She clung to his arm persistently, her grip tightening as she tilted her head with a coy smile, her words dripping with desperation.

"Jungwon, c'mon," she whined, batting her lashes in a way that might have worked on someone else. "It's just one date."

His face remained impassive, brushing her off with a subtle tug of his arm. "Mira, I'm taken." His voice was calm but firm, the words carrying a weight of finality that he hoped she would understand.

Mira, however, wasn’t one to give up so easily. She edged closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You said she's in Canada, she won’t know."

Before Jungwon could even reply, a familiar voice rang out, light and full of warmth.

"Wonnie!"

His heart leapt at the sound of your voice, and he turned just in time to see you rushing toward him. Before he could process anything else, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you instantly, pulling you close as if it had been mere hours since he last saw you, not years. He held you like he had been waiting for this exact moment all his life.

"You're back?" His voice cracked slightly, a mixture of disbelief and excitement bubbling to the surface. He squeezed you tighter, as if to confirm you were really there, in his arms, tangible and warm. "Why didn’t you tell me? I would've picked you up from the airport."

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him that you had missed more than you could admit during those long years apart. It had been almost three years since graduation, and four since the start of your relationship. Three excruciating years of video calls, texts, and waiting, all because your mother had finally divorced your father and moved to Canada, taking you with her. Jungwon had promised you he'd wait, and wait he did—patiently, devotedly, even though the distance often felt unbearable.

Tears began to spill uncontrollably down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt as you sobbed into his chest. The emotions were overwhelming, the relief of being back in his arms after so long mixing with the sadness of having missed him so much.

"Why are you crying?" Jungwon asked softly, his voice filled with concern. His hands moved up to cradle the back of your head gently as he rocked you back and forth, trying to soothe you. The steady rhythm of his movements grounded you, pulling you out of the swirl of emotions that threatened to drown you.

"I'm happy, so happy," you mumbled into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. You took a shaky breath, trying to regain your composure, and wiped your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand before looking up at him.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mira still standing there, watching the intimate moment unfold between you and Jungwon with barely concealed irritation.

"Who's she though?" You asked, gesturing toward the girl who now stood awkwardly a few feet away, her smile strained and forced.

Jungwon rolled his eyes dramatically, the exasperation clear on his face as he shifted his hold on you. "She's just a casual friend," he muttered under his breath, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

Mira took that as her cue to awkwardly introduce herself, though it was clear she was far from pleased with the situation. "Hello. You must be his girlfriend," she mumbled, her eyes flicking between the two of you as she watched the embrace dissolve.

"Yeah," you replied simply, your tone firm but polite, unwilling to give her any satisfaction from this moment. Your grip on Jungwon tightened subtly, a quiet assertion that he was yours, and you weren’t going anywhere.

As you broke away from the hug, Jungwon leaned down to whisper into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "She's annoying," he muttered with a slight chuckle. "She was trying to get me to date her without you knowing."

You turned your head slightly, hiding a grin as you whispered back teasingly, "You should’ve gone then."

Jungwon pulled back just enough to give you an incredulous look, his brows furrowing in playful annoyance. "How could I?" he whispered back, his voice full of mock indignation. "I love you."

Mira, sensing that she had no place in this moment, let out a soft huff and turned on her heel, walking away quickly with a flick of her hair, clearly defeated. Jungwon barely glanced her way, his attention solely focused on you, his arms still wrapped around you like a protective shield.

The two of you stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to the world around you. After years of being apart, of missed touches and long-distance calls, nothing else mattered. The noise of the city faded away, and all that was left was the sound of your heartbeats, syncing up once again after so much time spent apart.

The warm water cascaded down on you both, the steam filling the bathroom and fogging up the mirror. Jungwon's arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His fingers gently traced patterns on your belly, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat of the water.

"It feels different, doesn't it?" Jungwon murmured, his voice low as he nuzzled his face into your wet hair, inhaling your scent. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, pressing a soft, sucking kiss there before trailing up your neck. "Being together again..."

"...not just talking on the phone or facetiming," you interjected, your voice barely a whisper, enjoying the gentle touches. His hands slowly washed your body, cleaning you with care. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, giving him better access to your neck. "I missed this."

"Mmm, me too," Jungwon hummed against your skin, his hands gliding down to your thighs, gently massaging them. The suds of the body wash made his touch slick. "I missed being able to touch you like this..."

"...to feel your heart race when I kiss your neck," he continued, his hands slowly sliding back up, skimming over your hips, your ribs, before finally resting underneath your breasts. "To hear your breath hitch when I..." He paused, his touch becoming more gentle. "Hold you like this."

His large hands cupped your breasts tenderly, his thumbs caressing the hardened peaks. He rocked his hips forward slightly, pressing his hardened length against the small of your back. "Even this... feels different. Better."

"It's... intense," you breathed out, your voice hitching as his touch became more insistent. His touch was gentle yet firm, reverent yet demanding. Your hands gripped his wrists, not to push him away, but to anchor yourself, to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensations. "Like..."

"...like we're trying to remember every detail, every feeling," you continued, your voice trembling. "Like we're starving for each other and can't get enough." Your breath caught as he squeezed your breasts gently, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. "Jungwon..."

His name fell from your lips on a soft moan as he grinded against you slowly, his mouth finding yours. His tongue delved in, deepening the kiss as his hands continued their slow exploration. The water poured down on you both, washing away the suds, but not the heat building between you.

His touch grew bolder as he turned you to face him, his hands sliding down your slick body to wrap around your thighs and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back as he pressed you against the cool tiles. "Look at me," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, his eyes dark with need. His hardness prodded at your entrance, pausing there. "Remember how it was, before?" He flexed his hips forward slightly, filling you just a little. "Remember how we fit together?"

"Yes..." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders. He slowly pushed into you more, inch by inch, his face contorted with pleasure. "Just like that... we fit..." You threw your head back, gasping as he sheathed himself fully inside you. "Jungwon..."

His length was thick and long, stretching you to accommodate him. He pulled out slowly, his hips rolling forward again as he thrust back in, his pace measured and deliberate. His hands gripped your ass tightly, spreading your ass cheeks slightly to grant himself deeper access. "Your eyes... they get so big,"

He leaned forward, his mouth latching onto one of your hardened peaks, sucking hard as he continued his slow thrusts. He was taking his time, drawing out the pleasure for both of you. His length glided in and out of you easily, the water and the body wash acting as natural lubricant.

"Jungwon... it's... so good..." you moaned, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands clutched his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his flesh. Your breaths came in short pants, mingling with his harsh breaths. "You're so deep... I can feel you..."

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The sound of water splashing filled the bathroom, accompanied by your soft moans and his ragged breathing. His mouth found yours again, swallowing your cries. His thickness caressed every inch of you, his pelvis grinding against yours with each thrust.

"You're... so warm... so tight..." he groaned against your mouth. His hands tightened on your bottom, his fingers spreading you wider as he increased his pace. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other echoed in the bathroom, accompanied by their heavy breathing. "I can't... hold back..."

"Don't... don't hold back..." you whimpered, your body tensing as he nailed a particularly sensitive spot. "Harder... Jungwon... please..." Your head lolled to the side, your breath coming in short pants.

His thrusts became brutal, his hips slamming against yours with abandon. The water in the tub splashed wildly, nearly overflowing as he fucked you with reckless abandon. His mouth latched onto your neck, biting and sucking hard as he chased his climax. "Fuck... fuck... FUCK!"

"Jungwon... yes... yes!" You cried out, your body tensing as your release neared. His thickness rubbed against you perfectly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body clenched around him, your inner muscles milking him as you shattered around him.

"Ahhh!!" He threw his head back, his body stiffening as he found his release. He slammed into you one last time, his body shuddering as he spilled into you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he rode out his release. "Ahh..."

Finally, he collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You remained suspended in the water, his softening length still buried inside you. After a moment, he gently pulled out, his thick seed dripping from your stretched open hole.

You leaned back against the tub, your legs splayed wide open as you gazed at your dripping hole. A satisfied smile spread across your face as you felt the warmth of his seed coating your insides. You reached down, gently probing your stretched hole with your finger, feeling his thick load inside you.

Jungwon watched you with hooded eyes, his face flushed and his breathing still heavy. "You look so... satisfied," he commented, his voice lazy and content. He reached out, his hand mirroring yours as he gently touched your slick hole.

You looked at him, your eyes glinting mischievously. "Mmm... I am... but there's still some left..." you purred, pushing two fingers deep inside yourself and scooping out some of his seed. He watched as you brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean.

His eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he watched you clean your fingers. "That's... so dirty..." he murmured, his voice laced with approval. He reached out, his own fingers mimicking yours as he gently pushed them into your stretched hole, scooping out more of his warm seed.

You moaned softly, your eyes rolling back as he fingered your hole, his fingers coated in his own seed. Jungwon brought his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean just like you had done. You watched him, your heart racing at the sight of him devouring his own essence.

"You're insatiable..." he groaned, his eyes glinting hungrily as he looked at you. His fingers delved back into your hole, pushing deep as he sought more of his release. "Let's get clean, hmm?" he suggested, his voice low and gruff.

You nodded eagerly, your body tingling with anticipation. He slowly cleaned you up, his touch gentle and caring as he washed his own essence off your body. Then, he lathered up a washcloth and began to clean himself, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. "Turn around..."

You turned around, your back pressing against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The washcloth gently cleaned your back, your sides, your stomach... and then lower. You moaned softly as he cleaned between your legs, his touch gentle yet insistent.

"Spread your legs wider..." he whispered against your ear. You complied, your thighs parting to give him better access. The warm, soapy cloth cleaned your folds, your crease, your tight little hole.

He spent extra time cleaning your hole, his fingers gently spreading you open as he washed inside you. You felt so clean, so refreshed, as he finished up and set the washcloth aside. His arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

"Let's dry off..." he murmured, helping you stand. He stepped out of the tub first, then helped you out. The bathroom was filled with steam, the mirrors fogged up. He grabbed a towel and began to dry you off, his hands roaming over your body reverently.

You stood there, letting him dry you off, feeling his warm breath on your skin as he worked. When he finished with you, he dried himself off as well, his eyes never leaving yours. Once he was dry, he picked you up in his arms and carried you out of the bathroom.

You didn't know when you fell asleep but the first thing in the morning you noticed was the warmth of Jungwon’s body pressing close against yours, his arm draped lazily around your waist. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the tangled sheets that barely covered the both of you.

Your mind was slow to piece together the events of the night before, the hazy memory of falling asleep together in each other’s arms, feeling completely safe and enveloped in warmth. The soft rise and fall of Jungwon���s chest against your back was a comforting rhythm, and you let yourself linger in the moment.

Then, a sharp knock on the door broke the serenity. You stirred, blinking sleepily as you felt Jungwon’s arm tighten around your waist, his head buried deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Jungwon, there's a knock," you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep as you tried to shift his arm off you, your fingers brushing over his in a half-hearted attempt to wake him.

"They can wait..." he grumbled, barely audible, pulling you closer as his lips ghosted against your shoulder, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you almost believed him—whoever it was could definitely wait. Until the sound of a familiar voice echoed from behind the door.

“Jungwon-ah, are you awake?”

You bolted upright, eyes wide, your heart immediately racing. His parents. You could barely register Jungwon’s groggy response as he rubbed his face with both hands, clearly still half-asleep, while you were already scrambling to find your clothes. You glanced over at him, eyes wide with panic as you whispered, "Are they here unannounced?"

Jungwon shot up from the bed, instantly awake at the realization. His eyes widened in disbelief, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Oh my god,” he muttered, quickly grabbing for his clothes. You hurriedly followed suit, pulling your shirt over your head as you glanced at the door nervously.

“I’m coming!” Jungwon called out, his voice slightly strained as he hopped around on one leg, trying to pull up his pants in a rush. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and you could see the flush creeping up his neck as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

You sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, watching as Jungwon took a deep breath and stepped out of the bedroom. The door closed softly behind him, and you could hear the muffled sounds of his conversation with his parents in the other room.

“Oh… hi mom, dad,” Jungwon greeted, his voice tinged with an awkwardness that was impossible to hide. You could picture him standing at the door, scratching the back of his neck, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. “You… you should’ve told me you were coming.”

His mom’s voice was lighthearted, as if nothing were amiss. “Do we really need to tell our son when we’re visiting?” she teased, stepping into the dorm uninvited. You could almost hear her footsteps as she walked around the room, probably inspecting every corner like mothers do.

His father’s voice came next, gruff but not unkind. “At least your dorm is clean,” he commented, as if his primary concern was whether or not the room was up to his standards. Jungwon let out a small, nervous laugh in response, clearly trying to keep the conversation light.

You could hear the subtle tension in his voice as he continued. “Uh… I’ll be right back, I just need to… shower,” he stammered, clearly struggling to act casual as he hastily excused himself. “Just… sit here for a bit, okay?”

The door to the bedroom opened again, and Jungwon slipped back inside, closing it quickly behind him as if that simple action could shield both of you from further embarrassment. His face was flushed, his ears a deep shade of pink as he leaned back against the door for a second, eyes shut.

“They’re really here,” he muttered, as if trying to process it himself.

You shook your head, laughing softly at the absurdity of the situation despite the tension swirling in the room. "Of course, they are. At least you got us out of that one... sort of."

Jungwon groaned quietly, moving towards the dresser to grab a towel, muttering under his breath about needing a miracle. You could only smile, watching him shuffle around with an awkward energy, knowing this was one morning neither of you would forget anytime soon.

After quickly showering and changing into something more comfortable—Jungwon in a loose sweatshirt that conveniently hid most of his neck, and you in one of his oversized tees—you both exchanged nervous glances before stepping out of the bedroom. The awkward tension still hung in the air as Jungwon reached for the door handle, the two of you silently hoping that his parents hadn't picked up on anything too obvious.

As the door swung open, the comforting smell of breakfast greeted you both. His mom was busy setting plates on the small dining table, her movements efficient yet graceful, while his dad sat at the table, scrolling through his phone. You noticed the slight pause in his mother’s actions when she caught sight of you, her brows raising in surprise before she quickly composed herself.

“Oh,” she said, the surprise melting into a knowing smile. “Is she your girlfriend? The one from Canada?”

Jungwon’s ears instantly turned red, his fingers tightening on the door handle as he gave a shy nod. “Y-Yeah,” he mumbled, glancing nervously at his father, who looked completely oblivious to the conversation until now.

His dad blinked, clearly confused by the sudden revelation. “Canada?” he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked between you and Jungwon, trying to piece things together.

Feeling the awkwardness settle around the table like an unwanted guest, Jungwon led you both to the dining area, where you carefully took your seat next to him. You made sure to sit up straight, shoulders relaxed but composed, not wanting to make any wrong impressions. After all, meeting your partner’s parents for the first time, especially under such unexpected circumstances, was nerve-wracking enough.

As you slid into the chair, you nudged Jungwon lightly with your elbow, your voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You told them about me?”

Jungwon let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck—his fingers brushing dangerously close to the hickey he’d tried so hard to hide. “Well… kind of?” he replied, his voice rising slightly at the end, as if even he wasn’t sure of his own answer.

You barely had time to react when his mother appeared by the table, a warm smile on her face as she set down plates of egg toast in front of everyone. The golden, buttery aroma filled the room, momentarily easing the tension, but only for a moment. Just as you reached for your fork, his father’s voice cut through the silence.

“What’s that?” His dad’s eyes were narrowed in on Jungwon’s neck, specifically the faint purple mark peeking out from under his sweatshirt. The color drained from Jungwon’s face as he instinctively slapped a hand over the spot, clearly panicking.

“Oh, this?” Jungwon stammered, his voice suddenly an octave higher than usual. He swallowed hard before blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. “It’s, uh… a mosquito bite.”

You could practically feel the heat radiating from his embarrassment, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. His father, however, was far from convinced. He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical as he leaned back in his chair. “A mosquito bite that big?”

Jungwon’s fingers tightened around his fork, his face burning with mortification. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Desperate to save him from any further embarrassment, you quickly jumped in, plastering on the brightest smile you could muster.

“Oh, aunty!” you said, your voice filled with enthusiasm as you turned to his mom, completely shifting the conversation. “Your hair looks gorgeous! Where did you get it done? It really suits you!”

Jungwon let out a silent breath of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as the attention shifted away from him. His mom, clearly flattered by the compliment, absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression softening as she smiled at you.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, her tone warming with motherly pride. “I got it done at this little salon near our house. I wasn’t sure if the color would suit me, but I’m glad you like it.”

You nodded eagerly, leaning into the conversation as if you hadn’t just saved your boyfriend from one of the most awkward moments of his life. “It really brings out your eyes,” you added, feeling Jungwon’s hand under the table give your knee a grateful squeeze.

As his mom continued to talk about her favorite salon, the conversation flowed smoothly—albeit with a few nervous glances exchanged between you and Jungwon. But for now, at least, the hickeys and last night’s chaos were safely tucked away, hidden under layers of polite conversation and egg toast.

You quietly took a bite of your egg toast, nodding along as Jungwon's parents chatted animatedly at the table. Suddenly, a familiar warmth settled on your thigh, and you felt a gentle squeeze that sent a shiver down your spine. You darted a glance at Jungwon, who was casually munching on his breakfast, acting innocent despite his hand now resting firmly on your leg.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, leaning slightly toward him, your voice low but urgent.

“Just touching my girlfriend. I’m allowed to, right?” he murmured back, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he took another calm bite, his hand lingering where it shouldn’t.

“You can, but not here,” you hissed, your eyes flicking quickly toward his parents to make sure they were still oblivious.

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Finish up quick then, I need you... but I can wait until Mom and Dad leave,” he murmured, his hand softly tracing patterns on your thigh.

“Wonnie,” you whisper-teased, trying to stifle a laugh, “you should wait.” You lightly slapped his hand away, giving him a pointed look.

He pouted, clearly enjoying the game, but kept quiet as you both continued breakfast, hoping his parents hadn't noticed the quiet exchange.

• september seventeen, 14:37

masterlist.

p.sh | upcoming.

© iconchae | tumblr

[inthemaelstrom]

So we're about six weeks out from another "most important election of my lifetime" and it's predictably making me literally sick to my stomach. When Trumpacabra got elected in 2016, I threw myself into politics in a way I never had in my lifetime and it almost wrecked me. I was one of those people who never voted for religious reasons (long, separate story) and I felt I had to make up for lost time. By the time 2020 rolled around, I was an unhealthy mess. I had stopped reading. Everything. When I wasn't watching MSNBC and political commentators obsessively, I started consuming absolute junk TV: home improvement shows, crack paranormal ghost hunter crap, etc. Things with no plot, no emotional investment, no danger. No fear.

Right before the 2020 election, old fanfic friends from my days in the Master and Apprentice Star Wars listserv found me and saved me.

They dragged me back into fandom, introduced me to Discord, and got me writing again. I updated a story I hadn't touched in 5 years. I made new friends online and in RL. I got some great fiction and fic recs from those friends and discovered a subgenre called Hopepunk—low stakes fiction with very little if any violence and fear and with happy endings. (Becky Chambers writes a lot of what I read, and Amy Crook has also become a favorite.)

One morning, I had one of those really vivid, realistic, linear plot dreams that literally dragged me out of bed to the keyboard. It was a meet-cute modern au of The Phantom Menace's characters, set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I cranked out about 2000 words the first day. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. And so on every damn day for the next four years until I had four novels, about 668k words, several timestamps written by three other collaborators who've come on board, some beautiful art I've been allowed to use, and now a fifth book in the works.

This is the Yooperverse.

It's not just The Fic That Saved Me, it's the place where I'm writing a vision of what the world could be like into being. A place where people with fucking obscene amounts of money don't spend it on themselves, or hoard it, or exploit other people to get more, but use it to help other people. It's a place where people who are bigoted dicks either get their comeuppance and crawl back under their rocks, or learn better and do better. It's a place where abused kids get rescued, everybody gets therapy and healthcare and is paid a living wage, people learn to value themselves and each other, and protect each other and defend each other. It's kinky and queer (although I'm neither) and above all, if not entirely safe to be both, I'm trying to write both things as just being another setting on the dryer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's not a utopia, by any means, because there are still assholes and the government is still ... the government, and capitalism is still a thing. There's some danger, especially in the first book, and there are accidents and illnesses and the vagaries of life. In the middle of the series, I had spinal surgery and was out of commission for a few months and that made me start thinking more about my main character dealing with aging and the limitations thereof. There's a LOT of mental health issues and the working through thereof, and a lot of ongoing process. Nobody's perfect. The world outside is still pretty much what it is. But in the little corners where my characters dwell, life is pretty dang good, sometimes great.

It's a vision of a life we all deserve. It's the thing I loved about Star Trek's universe, where people's basic needs are cared for and the obstacles to them developing their best selves removed. It's what I've loved about science fiction in general, especially Ursula LeGuin's: that opportunity to explore possibilities that are better than the present. It's modeled on the MacArthur Genius grants, but you don't have to prove your worthiness first. My main character invests in people's potential, young or old, with scholarships and grants and a steadying hand. His partner builds low or no-cost housing for people in need. There's an informal network of queer and straight kid rescuing going on under the noses of unfriendly governments and failed social service safety nets. The main characters build refuges, literal and emotional. They love each other fiercely and respectfully.

Right now, we're living in a country that is almost the antithesis of these ideas, for far too many of us. People are being manipulated by their fears, which are stoked by unscrupulous, lying shitbag politicians whose all too real evil would never make it past the pitch if you were going to try to sell it as a TV show or movie. They're consciously turning us on each other with lies about our common humanity, about the state of our country, about who and what's responsible for many of its faults, sewing suspicion and hate. And though the Yooperverse started as my personal comfort fic, I'm trying in my very small way to counteract what's happening in the world right now.

I've always believed in the power of story to change people's minds and lives, and I've experienced it myself. When I talk about story, I don't just mean fiction, though. I mean the narratives we tell ourselves and others about our own lives as a whole and day by day or moment by moment. I mean the stories we tell about each other when we're together, at the bar, at wakes, at a party. I mean the stories we invest in as fans in whatever kind of media we consume. I mean the stories we spin for ourselves and others to explain what the everloving fuck is wrong with the world.

Stories aren't separate from the world, they are the world. They tell it into being. They give it shape and purpose and meaning and a sense of possibility. Whatever stories we tell ourselves or each other about how things should be or how we should act as human beings (also called our "beliefs" or "morals" or "ethics"), they shape us, and we shape society. We are society, both together and as individuals. One person with a big voice and a story can tip a mass of people into either violence or solidarity.

I have no illusions that the Yooperverse will ever have that kind of power. It has a tiny audience on AO3 and Discord and it's mostly written for me to explore the things I feel deeply about, and wish I could do, and to teach myself to be a better person and live up to my own ideals. It's a world I'd like to manifest, to call into being, even in a small way. Even if it's just a story.

[babieken]

I was expecting so much more from Again My Life considering lee jungi was its main character but it was such a let down...

[galmiahthepigeon]

Okay guys I saw the thumbnail and there is no "Season Finale" or "Part One" anywhere in the title do I need to start killing?

[mejomonster]

To get good at telling stories... writing stories... one must... practice by writing stories ;-;

[the-kipsabian]

..i have a plot for the soulmates as horror fic finally

the problem is i also have two other longer projects going on at the moment along a few others that ive already started ages ago so its like. i really shouldnt start another multichapter thing

but god im just so happy to have a plot

[reachexceedinggrasp]

It's a problem for me how every frame of his face needs to be a painting. I paint way too slow for this kind of workload.

[theshadowrealmitself]

I need to know if anyone else who doesn’t watch Tokyo mew mew also thought this:

So, my best friend is living his best life watching the new reboot of it and earlier he was messaging me little updates about it (I have never first hand consumed this media in any way but I love secondhand binging with him) and he goes “oh the new main love interest is ripped now” and I was like “oh the tiny blond boy??” and this man sends me a picture of a character I have never seen before

Apparently the “bland main love interest” of Tokyo mew mew isn’t the blond boy???? Did anyone else think that’s who people were talking about too????

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone remind me not to mention creative writing as one of my hobbies in the academic interview I have on Monday, because if those people ask what I’m currently working on I cannot answer them

[stepmom]

season 9 review

[cringebureaucracy]

I envy the folks who can do OC playthroughs of Pokémon games, my first 2 instincts when making a trainer OC are "grown adult with an established day job" or "teenager but with a partner/ace pokemon who's like. A bug but not an early enough bug to get all the gyms with them instead of the required starter choice" and I'm too stubborn to budge on either front tbh

[jensthwa]

show & tell pt. 2 (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

After the… masterclass you gave Mingi the night before, you’re left anxious on what the future holds for you both. But there’s a pool party you promised you would attend and there’s not really time for you to figure your feelings out before your best friend shows up at your door to drive you to it. So maybe today is not the day to figure your feelings out, right? It’s just a pool party anyways, so nothing out of the ordinary is going to happen… right?

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends (idiots) to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 11k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) anxiety attack, attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit part two ft jongho, a new oc being the voice of reason, reader is clueless and in denial i fear, jealousy, miscommunication, fighting so this part is just a tiny bit angsty :(, confessions, teasing, face sitting, hand job, car sex (don't do it in public people, it can get you arrested), pet names (love and baby), a plot line at the end none of you guys are going to get until my new wip drops but it's worth the wait!

NOTES: hey everyone! thank you so much for patiently waiting for this second and last part to drop. i think that, after this one, if you guys want to request any drabbles or if i come up with some scenarios for this couple i will post them but for now nothing is on the works. what is on the works is a wip that's part of the same universe as this one, so pay attention to the new characters i mention if you want any clues! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 28th 2024.

TAGLIST (sorry if i forgot anyone, pls let me know!): @vannerriin / @mingtinysworld / @purple-bell / @bakepotatoman / @nxy3h / @taehyungmami / @nxcxllxsevens / @breadpuddingboys / @hotteokkay

masterlist.

When you wake the next morning, the consequences of restless sleep show up in your face as a reminder of what happened the night before. 

It's not that you regret it, it's more the fact that you feel so unapologetic about messing with the perfect dynamic you have with Mingi that caused you to toss and turn so much. 

Last night, after putting your duvet back on and then crashing into the mattress feeling all tingly and giddy, you asked yourself a thousand questions. 

The main one being: What the fuck did you do? 

The words kept repeating over and over in your head, your voice of reason (or your anxiety) screaming at you to get your phone and make it right before everything becomes a complicated, unresolvable mess. 

You had a brief moment of panic and heavy breathing, your chest tight with unspoken emotion and your eyes filled with tears. 

It was too much, so you forced yourself up and paced around for what felt like hours trying to get your feet back on the ground. Nothing was working, so you sat down at your desk and rested your forehead against it. 

When you didn't feel the usual coolness of the wood, a comfort sensation for when your studies got the best out of you for the day, and instead felt a pen almost stab you in the eye, you -very confused- leaned back. 

Mingi’s notebook and the pen he didn't put back on the pencil case seemed to stare back at you lovingly instead of mocking you for losing control over your own emotions. 

A sense of peace washed over you when you flipped the pages and landed on the instructions he wrote down. Memories of the amazing years you have had by his side started crossing your mind, like recomforting flashes that allowed your heartbeat to go back to normal: 

The first day you saw Mingi, chasing behind a worned out soccer ball and then kicking it so hard it landed on your lawn. 

The first time you two hugged, when your dad scolded you for having bad grades until you cried in front of him. 

The way he held your hand before heading inside to take the college admission exam, last year of highschool. 

His kind eyes. His reassuring smile. The way he made you feel just a few hours back. 

There's no getting rid of me either, love.

We'll figure it out. 

Letting a few contained tears run down your cheeks, you nodded to yourself as if he was there in the room with you. 

Yeah, you'll figure it out.  

And then proceeded to, very much, not figure shit out for the rest of the night. You could still feel his hands everywhere and hear his voice against your ear whispering how much he knows you and pays attention to you. 

You are fucked. 

It's all you can think about when you get ready for the day. It's all you can think about when you help your dad with lunch and when you let your parents know at the table that you are going out that same afternoon. 

“Mingi is driving you, right?” 

“Yeah…” you whisper in response, eyes focused on one specific spot at the table and mind a million years away from the conversation. 

“Good. He's such a good kid, Y/N, I'm glad he knows how to take care of you.” 

Choking on air when your brain finally catches up to her words, you look back up at your mother in shock “W-what?” 

“Yeah honey, what? Y/N can take care of herself,” your father chips in, unaware of your red cheeks or the honest expression of panic you're giving both of them “She's a big girl that carries around that, uh… What was it?— Ah, that pepper spray I gave her, right?” 

“R-right.” 

He lets out a satisfied see? at your answer, gives you a tiny smile and gets up from the table to take his finished plate over to the sink. 

Your mom stays behind, giving you a look you can't quite read before her usual calm expression washes it away. Only then, you can take a proper, very needed, calming breath. 

“I need to get ready. Thank you for the food.” 

“You made it, dear.” 

“I mean! For taking care of the, uh, plates,” you clumsily correct yourself right away, getting up from the table as well “Love you. Bye!” 

You don't miss the confused giggle on your way to your room and when you're behind closed doors, you finally take into consideration that you might be, in fact, overreacting.

Not much, you think, but just enough to give your feelings away. And it's truly a shame, because you were planning on concealing and bottle everything up until it, inevitably, blows up in your face. 

Maybe not the smartest option. 

If you bang your head against the wall with enough force maybe, just maybe it’ll help—

Someone's texting you. 

> gi: heeeeey > gi: just woke up lol > gi: had the best sleep ever tho > gi: how are you, love? 

Okay. So normal texting it is. Maybe your initial plan of just pretending nothing happened is, coincidentally, Mingi’s plan as well. 

So you type in it's literally almost one, ya lazy and let your thumb hover over the send button, eyebrows creased at a sudden realization. 

The casual texting annoys you. 

Sure, Mingi is used to keeping everything casual between him and the people he sleeps with, but you're not just anyone! You didn't sleep together, either! 

Oh, maybe that's why. 

But it ticks you off either way. 

Is he not feeling the same way you do? Did it mean something different for him than it did to you? What did it even mean to you in the first place?

Why, after all the panic you felt the night before, did you have any sort of expectation for today? 

It doesn't make any sense. 

You hit send. 

> gi: aaaaand?  > gi: god forbid a man gets a good night's rest after being thrown off a bed. 

Scoffing, your eyes roll before you can even control it and, to your demise, the giddiness returns. You respond with did you get hurt? awww and raise a hand to your blushed cheek before sending the message.

> gi: yeah wtf  > gi: my butt is all bruised.  > gi: kiss it better? 

Oh. 

Not casual texting. At. All. 

Or maybe it is? 

Ugh.

Blanking on everything Mingi has ever texted you before, you decide it's best to entertain yourself by getting all pretty to sit around the house party tonight and do nothing else instead of torturing your confused brain any longer. 

Using the help of an emoji to flip him off and, hopefully, gather yourself together enough to get ready, you shoot him another text rushing him to do the same because you don't want to be late. 

And he usually takes forever to get ready anyways.

Showering with very cold water, taking a good thirty minutes to decide whether to wear something comfy and fitting or sexy and fitting for the party do the job when it comes to taking your mind off him for, at least, the time being. 

Yunho was insistent the day before in that you didn't need to bring a bathing suit if you didn't want to, but you pack one anyways because you can sense Wooyoung's and Jongho’s intentions even if the youngest couldn't make it to your impromptu gathering yesterday. 

They know you hate when they get away with annoying you and throwing you into the nearest body of water -in this case, Yunho’s pool- in front of many people you don't know (therefore, you are not going to able to go insane mode on them) seems like the perfect opportunity to get away with it.

The last time they did it you weren't really able to scold them properly either, so they laughed and pointed at you until you threatened to kick their asses in a very dishonest but playful way. 

Mingi, of course, did nothing but laugh along with everyone else and then kiss your forehead as an apology later that day. 

That was last summer and since then both perpetrators have treated you to meals and buttered you up enough for you to forgive (as if you didn't do that the morning that followed the incident) but you never forget. 

Maybe you should. It would make the sight of Mingi parking outside your house easier, you think.

You're sure he's parking outside just to give your dad, who comes out to greet him with a hug, some peace of mind. He's very protective of you and he trusts Mingi even if he gives him a hard time everytime he sleeps over or takes you somewhere.  

Like now, you have a very clear view through your window of the sermon he's giving your best friend. You don't hear it but he's moving his hands in the air way too much for it not to be a clear step by step on what to do if you run into any trouble on the way to Yunho's. 

Mingi likes step by step and he's good at following instructions, so you don't think it's going to be an issue. 

God damnit, Y/N, get it together. 

Sighing, you pick up your bag, check your outfit once in front of the mirror, and rush downstairs and out of the door. 

“You do know how to change a tire, son?” 

Mingi is standing in front of your dad with his hands behind his back and a tight smile. 

“Yes sir, my dad taught me and then at the school they made sure I didn't forget about it.” 

“And make sure to—” 

“Could you let the guy breathe, dad?” 

They both turn to, your dad wears a mocking smile and you see Mingi’s tight one breaks into a genuine one a second later. A grateful one, even. 

He looks really good. Which is insane, considering that to you he looked like Chewbacca just yesterday morning. 

Crazy what a good orgasm can do to a person. Or maybe it's the first time you ever let yourself see him in this light. Either way, he's wearing light wash jeans and a fitted t-shirt that clings to him just right and it's going to drive you insane, you can just feel it. 

“I was just making sure that he—” 

“Knows what to do,” you nod “He knows what he's doing, dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” you give your dad a quick kiss on the cheek and then rush to the passenger seat, giving Mingi a glance so he can get in the car as well. 

“Alright. Love you, take care!” 

“Love you too, Mr. L/N!” Mingi says, getting into his seat and giving your dad the opportunity to see when he fastens his seatbelt. He doesn't say anything else, even though he didn't tell Mingi specifically that he loved him and instead gives you both a nod of approval. 

When Mingi finally drives off your street and into the main one, you sigh in relief. 

“He's neeever going to trust me, huh?” 

“He trusts you,” you say right away, cheek resting against the seat so you can take a proper look at him “I'm his only daughter and you're a man after all. Cut him some slack.” 

“He never cuts me some slack!” he fights back but you just laugh and he can't help but join you “You look really good, by the way. A dress? Are you trying to impress someone?” The tone he uses sparks the remaining tension from the night before, like zero time has passed since he kissed you goodnight by your front door. 

When you got into the car with Mingi, you didn't consider that you two would be alone for, at least, forty minutes before getting to your destination. Your mind skipped the fact that he has this new ability to fluster you by just existing near you and you curse it for not letting you prepare well enough for the way he's looking at you right now. 

“Obviously,” you answer in a whisper, clearing your throat a second later “Wooyoung needs to be distracted so he doesn't tackle me into the pool the second we get there. Don't know if it's gonna work on Jongho, though.” 

Mingi clicks his tongue, baring his teeth and pretending to really think about it “I don't think so, love. You'll have to bribe him into considering dropping their whole summer schtick for you.” 

“You can help me with that.” 

“Can I now?” 

“Yeah. You can just… lock him up in a room and my dress can do the rest of the work.” 

Your best friend laughs and then takes a hand off the steering wheel to roll the hem of your dress in between his thumb and index. His knuckles brush against your thigh and you almost -almost- make a noise at the sensation. 

“It's not the dress, love… It's who's wearing it.” 

A bit of silence passes within the both of you. 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

Laughter fills the car and drowns out the honking on the other side of the street and you wonder why you were worried in the first place. 

Nothing has changed. 

Aside from the intention laced with the flirting, it feels the same way it ever did and you couldn't be more glad because now that you know Mingi doesn't hate you (like you thought for a brief moment last night) or wants to hard launch a relationship that doesn't exist to your friends the second he gets them all together in the same room, you can enjoy the car ride and the evening that's about to follow it.

So you flirt with him freely, listen and sing along to songs that just feel like summer summarized in three minutes of exquisite writing and roll your window down once Mingi takes a turn into an hill, trees replacing the buildings you're so used to seeing. 

Your friend is rich rich. His family makes good money and his parents go on lots of business trips. That being said, it's the first time you actually attend one of his parties, and so when you get to Yunho’s house and ring the doorbell, you’re caught by surprise because you can already hear the loud music playing in the backyard and the blend of new and familiar voices through the thick door. 

You expect him to open the door for you but Seonghwa’s smile is the first thing you see before you and Mingi both have the opportunity to step in. 

“You made it!” 

“It's pretty hard to miss this house, Hwa.” 

Your older friend side-hugs you and stays by your side while Mingi takes it upon himself to put your bags for the day in the pile of other bags next to the door “How are you doing today?” 

You're about to answer but when you look at him, you see him staring at Mingi, so you do too. He's staring at Hwa with a little smile “I'm doing good. I blocked her and everything and I can confidently say that…” he turns to you “My ego’s not bruised anymore.” 

If Seonghwa caughts the spark between you and you best friend, he decides to ignore it “That's goo—” 

“Mingi!” 

What the hell is she doing here? 

Not, not that bitch from yesterday but this girl who Mingi meets with sometimes. You don't really know her, you just know she's gorgeous and that her name starts with an h, maybe? 

She's a fashion major and it shows in the way she's dressed up today. Truly, an enjoyable company whenever she's around at frat parties, a saving grace when you're tired of surrounding yourself with only men. 

Right now? She's your worst nightmare. 

Wrapping her arms around Mingi’s neck and getting on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek, she smiles like she knows she's getting laid tonight and your best friend does nothing to pull her away. 

She doesn't even say hi to you before dragging him to the backyard! You and Seonghwa follow them and when she takes Mingi’s arm and pulls him over to -you assume- introduce him to her friends, you almost stomp your feet like a little kid. 

Trying to get rid of the annoyed frown on your face, you turn to Hwa with a teasing smile and your eyebrows raised. 

“Well fuck me, am I right?” 

“I might!” Arms wrap around your waist and you feel Woo’s chin resting on you shoulder immediately after “That's a very nice dress, Y/N.” 

If Mingi was next to you, like you want him to be, you would give him a I told you so glance. Instead, you just look at Seonghwa with absolute horror before he snickers and goes away. 

“Right? And it looks horrible when it's drenched in nasty chlorine water.” 

“You can't possibly know that.” 

“I know a lot of things and— No! Woo, please don't,” you beg when he lifts you off the ground for a second. Behind you, you hear laughs and, even though you can't see them, you know it's San and Jongho “I just got here and I haven't even changed yet, please.” 

He turns you around and hugs you properly this time before letting you go. You take the opportunity to punch him in the arm and then go over to San and Jongho to do the same. 

“We'll let you get your swimsuit on this time.” 

“You're so considerate, Jong. Seriously, they're going to give you the Nobel prize if you don't stop.” He mocks you, repeating what you just said in a higher pitched voice and you laugh as you sit next to Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend, Gyuri. 

San also has a girl sitting beside him with his arm around her, but you don't really know her so you just wave at her. They're all in their bathing suits already “See how he tried to flirt with me to try to get me with my guard down? He's a monster.” 

“And in front of me, too? The nerve on this guy.” Gyuri, of course, backs you up immediately and you want to return her smile, but you can see Mingi from the corner of your eye and it's distracting. 

“Oh, they're ganging up on me already,” Wooyoung whines, sitting down in front of you both and handing you a drink “It's like my worst nightmare.” 

“He's enjoying it, don't let him convince you otherwise,” San says, getting up from his seat and taking his girl with him “Especially coming from you.” He points at Gyuri and you laugh. 

“We're just friends now!” 

“That's what you told me like three years ago before—” 

Wooyoung gets up to chase after him and San lets go of the girl's hand to try to get away from him. 

Turns out, you're not the one Woo tackles into the pool. This time, him and San crash down on the water hard and a few droplets of water wet your feet. Gyuri laughs and everyone else does too when they realize what's happening. 

Jongho gets up and joins them in the water soon after to try and help (kinda, not really) San escape the wrath of his best friend. 

You almost miss it, because you take the opportunity to look at your best friend and, when you do, he's already looking at you. 

Breath catches on your throat and the lump that forms afterwards has a name and a reason: Mingi is looking at you with so much longing it physically hurts. 

He looks like wants to drop everything and come and confuse your fragile mind even more, just like he did the night before. 

Then why the fuck is he there with whatever her name is and her friends and not sitting right next to you? 

You look away, grasping your drink for emotional support and convincing yourself you're starting to see things that are not actually there. 

“Why the fuck are y'all fighting this time?!” Yunho comes from inside the house and it's the first time you see him today “No choking! No running! It's literally in the rules!” 

“Wooyoung please let go of my boyfriend!” 

Ah. So she is San’s girlfriend. Still, you turn to Gyuri to ask. 

“Who is sh—” 

“San’s new girlfriend, Kyungmi. We don't give a fuck about her or San right now, we're mad at them,” you want to ask who we is, because Wooyoung seems like he's just playing, but she interrupts you again “What the fuck is going on with you and Mingi?” 

Huh?! 

You make a quick mental review of your plan. Conceal? Clearly it didn't work. Bury your emotions deep so no one notices? You probably can't recover from the way you smile just dropped. 

The only thing left on the list is pretend that you're insane, but you're not sure it'll work either. So you turn it on her: “Nothing much. He played Espresso like three times on a row on the way here and I almost kill him, but—” 

“You can't bullshit me, Y/N.” 

Great, that didn't work either. 

“I saw that. Seonghwa did too but he got up before I could convince him to ambush you,” she dramatically sighs, chugging the rest of her drink down “So, what is going on?” 

“Nothing,” that much is true “he's literally with a girl right now.” 

“And she will never mean as much to him as you do. Next.” 

“Gyuri… I really don't know what you want me to say.” 

Squinting her eyes at you suspiciously, Gyuri takes her time before answering and you fidget in your seat a little. Wooyoung liked her for a reason, she's feisty and goes straight to the point and it's something you usually admire but right now it's not the time for her to do this. 

“I just thought maybe it finally happened…” She whispers and shrugs the entire conversation off before getting up “Let's head inside. They're going to start grilling meat at any second and I also don't want to be near Wooyoung when he gets out of there.” She points at him and you laugh. 

Jongho has him in a chokehold and Yunho is trying to separate them while San desperately swims towards his girl that's still waiting for him near the edge of the pool. 

“Sure thing.” 

You pretend you don't feel Mingi's eyes on you as you move. 

This is not unusual. Whenever you all go to parties, hosted by someone inside of the friend group or not, you end up separating from Mingi. 

He does his thing. He's outgoing and he likes dancing while you enjoy conversation and drinking away at the rest of the party, occasionally making out with someone and calling it a night when your social battery runs out. 

So you hang out with Gyuri in the kitchen until the sun starts going down and when the last ray of it disappears you decide it's time to swim a bit before you're too tipsy for it to be safe. 

Grabbing your bag and greeting some new people you don't know at the door, you head up to the bathroom you are told by the host himself it's upstairs. 

When your tying up the strands of your swimsuit, the door slams open and you jump and cover yourself up with your hands because you're not able to finish the job, so the strands fall down and the only thing holding the top part of the fabric it's you. 

“What the fuck, Mingi?” 

Turning around, you're only able to look at him through the mirror. 

“Lock the door next time! What if it was somebody else?” 

“People usually knock!” 

“I didn't mean to scare you, it's the door’s fault,” he makes a fool of himself trying to prove it “See? I— let me help you with that,” he closes the door again and, this time, he locks it before taking a short step and grabbing the strands of your top “It's the second time this week I scare you like that, huh? I’m sorry, love.” He ties the strands together with a secure knot and his apology finally allows your tense muscles to relax. 

You remind yourself that there's no valid reason for you to be mad at him. You'll figure it out, he said it himself, and maybe today is not the day to do so. 

But he's not stepping away once he's finished, he's not even saying anything else before his hands grab your waist and his chest collides to your back. 

Looking at him through the mirror again, you silently ask him with your eyes what he thinks he's doing. He ignores you, bending down so the tip of his nose can trace the skin on the side of your neck. 

“I missed you,” his voice sounds like honey when he says it and you, once again, curse the ability he has to make you crumble “and you disappeared like an hour ago.” 

You let out a sigh. 

“I was in the kitchen, Mingi, not missing and we were in the same space for at least twenty minutes before that and like… forty minutes in a car, together.” You remind him and he frowns “Besides, you were with Ha… Haneul?” 

“Hanni,” he corrects and you huff out a whatever “and she was introducing me to some of her friends that are in the same major as me, just a year over.” 

“Cool.” 

He pecks your shoulder. You do your best to not melt completely into him and fix your hair in the mirror. 

“Y/N…” he starts and you hum in acknowledgement “I missed you.” 

It pisses you off for some reason. The mature thing to do is to let him know but the words that leave you are petty and laced with annoyance. 

“I’m sure you did, buddy.” 

He grins against your skin and you turn around to face him, eyebrow raising. 

“What's so amusing?” 

At your tone, he seems taken aback but his smile stays curving his lips upwards.

“I'm just really happy to have this moment with you,” he says, matter of factly, and you press your hands against his chest to regain some personal space. He doesn't budge an inch “What's going on?” 

He's such a guy sometimes. 

“You're here, kissing my neck, while a gorgeous girl who I'm sure is waiting for you downstairs is probably bragging to her friends about how she's going home with you tonight and—” 

“Y/N, I'm literally taking you home.” 

“I can easily take a car back— Mingi, seriously,” taking a deep breath, you stare at him with all the honesty you can gather “I don't want to do whatever this is if afterwards you're going downstairs to dance and flirt with Haneul or whatever her name is.” 

He looks like he wants to correct you on it again, so you level him with a daring glance. 

He keeps his mouth shut. 

“And I also don't want you to hurt her feelings if you tell her you can't leave with her tonight, so—” 

“I don't give a shit about her feelings, love.” 

“Mingi, don't say that!” 

“I don't! I wasn't flirting with her at all, either! Listen, it's…” he stops to chuckle for a few seconds “I mean, it's adorable that you're jealous but there's no reason for you to—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

It's the second time today you have said those exact words to him. The first time, you also felt your heart bang with such force against your rib cage but for a completely different reason. 

“I'm not one of the girls you fuck on the side when you're horny or bored out of your mind. Don't fucking treat me like one.” You warn and suddenly the image of you telling him that teaching him yesterday could mess you both up crosses your mind.  

“I'm not, Y/N! I'm just saying that you look adorable when you're—” 

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous when we are not together, Mingi? I'm literally looking out for the girl!” 

“You don't even know her name, love.” 

“That's not the fucking point!” 

He finally takes a step away from you, closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, surely.

Now you're pissed off because he saw right through you and your words. 

That disgusting weight on your chest you felt back by the pool while you kept staring at him from the corner of your eye? Jealousy. 

Now that he brought it up, it makes sense. 

You hate it. 

You always hated being put in a position where you felt the need to compare yourself to others. Always hated how easy it is for anger to run through your blood and infiltrate every waking thought until it clouds your judgment. 

Because you shouldn't be angry. He just said he didn't care about her feelings. 

And yet, all you can think about is that he spent an hour with her instead of you. 

When he turns to you, there's a storm in his eyes and you just don't want to hear it tonight. 

“Save it, keep it, sleep on it and we'll talk tomorrow,” picking your dress from the spot on the floor it's been sitting all this time, you put the fabric on, take your bag and then unlock the door “I’m going home.” 

You don't give him the opportunity to say anything else before getting out of the bathroom but you do hear a groan when you're rushing downstairs. 

Yeosang and Yunho are just leaving the kitchen when you trip on the last step and the host jogs the few steps to you after laughing. 

“There you are, Y/N. Listen, there's some meat already grilled back there but we're—” 

“I'm actually going home, Yun,” you cut him short “I'm not feeling that well. My plan was to swim a little before leaving but I don't think I can do it.” 

“Did something happen or…?” 

What happened is coming downstairs as he asks. 

“Nope. Nothing, I just think I'm catching a cold or something. Thank you so much for inviting me though!” You hug your friend quickly, kissing his cheek before pulling away. 

“Always…” Yunho is very observant but, as you always do, he doesn't press you with questions about what's going on “He's taking you home?” Pointing behind you, you don't have to turn around to get what he means. 

“Ye—” 

“No. He's having a great time here, I don't want to get in the way,” you shrug “I'll just get an uber or something. Don't worry.” 

Yunho frowns slightly, eyes moving from your face to over your shoulder. 

Immature. Petty. Rude. 

You're sure that's the way you’re coming off right now. But feeling anger bubbling behind the smile you give Yunho, you think it's better they make their assumptions instead of actually seeing you upset. 

You move to hug Yeosang as well and he murmurs his farewell. When you turn around, Mingi is no longer there and you don’t spare a look towards the floor to ceiling glass windows that separate the living area from the backyard because you're sure he's sitting right beside that girl again. 

As he should be. 

You bolt for the door, giving your friends a tiny smile before going down the few steps and into the hill. It's already dark and you're sure no uber driver it's going up this hill for the tip you're able to offer them, so you figure your best shot is to go down and try to find a cab on the main street. 

The light from your phone illuminates your scowl as you walk. Past the bushes and the trees and the lines of parallel parked cars where Mingi’s Lexus is. 

You don't notice him there until he opens the backdoor to block your step. 

“Get in the car, I'm taking you home.” 

Closing the door he just opened to stop you, you shake your head. 

“I told you I'm getting a ride and—”

“I don't give a fuck. Get in the car.” And then he's opening his door and closing it so fast it gives you no room for debating. 

He's angry. Shit. 

You can't even see him through the tinted window to assess how much damage you have done, so you look down the hill one more time and wonder if making the run for it is worth it. 

When your phone lights up with a notification from Gyuri asking you if everything's okay and to make it home safe, you take it as a sign to round the car and get into the passenger side with an annoyed huff. 

The engine comes to life. You're not looking at him but at the trees until the leaves start showing the building lights in-between them and soon you're on the main road. 

You can't even ask him to turn the radio on. Stubborn, you refuse to let the anger inside of you dissipate in fear of shame taking over. It's better being angry than being ashamed, at least in this exact moment because you can practically feel Mingi's anger through the silent treatment. 

But you need to say something. The silence is suffocating and the street is surprisingly empty so you can't distract yourself with anything. 

“You shouldn't have bothered.” 

“I am bothered. You bothered me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you turn to him in disbelief “I told you to stay at the goddamn party so we can fix this tomorrow but I bothered you?”

“Did I stutter or something?” 

“No, you're just not making any fucking sense!” 

“Yeah, fuck this,” you see him look around, biting the inside of his cheek like he's holding his words in “We're fixing this right now.” 

The car makes a harsh turn and you have to grab the door for support. 

“Mingi!” He's not listening to you anymore. His hard gaze stays on the road, it feels like forever before he pulls into a somewhat empty parking lot and when the vehicle stops you go to open the door and get the fuck away from him before you two kill eachother inside this car. 

That's an exaggeration but with the way he turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, you know your pride doesn't stand a chance. 

The summer breeze briefly hits your face before his hand is on yours, closing the door and preventing you from, once again, escaping the situation. 

Frustrated, you let out a loud groan “What the fuck is your problem?!” 

“I don't know, Y/N! But I'll tell you what your problem is, alright?” he chuckles. It's a humorless sound, his face painted in something you've never seen before “Your problem is that you assume you know what everyone else is feeling and you assume you're right. But intuition can only get you so far, love, so I need you to take your head out of your ass and think logically for a second.” 

Flabbergasted, you think you murmur something in your defense but he cuts you short. 

“No! You didn't let me get a word out back there so now you're going to shut up and listen,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes “You assume you're smarter than everyone else but you're actually so dumb. Dumb, you're acting very dumb and reckless, Y/N! That back there?” he points out of the window to nothing but you know what he means “Leaving— Scratch that. Leaving me and not giving me a chance to say anything back? Trying to go down that hill alone and in the dark? Stupid.” 

Staring back at him with watery eyes, you don't even know what to say back except a whispered excuse me?

“And usually I would beat up anyone who even dares to call you that but I guess all these years I've been wrong about you. Because if you were smart, you would've realized that Hanni means nothing to me and I mean nothing to her. There's nothing, she loves appearances and that's it.” 

You knew that already, but you're not giving your stance up. 

What even is your stance? Ah, right, he treated you like an envious no one back there and not like his best friend.  

“Yeah, I can tell you mean nothing to her from the whiny tone and the hug and the dragging you to meet her friends, Mingi.” Scoffing at the memory, your lips press into a thin line. 

“Well, she's a friendly girl!” 

“She didn't even say hi to me!” 

“So she doesn't like you, Y/N! Who cares!” you sure don't but, again, you just stare at him in disbelief and his open arms, palms to the sky “Do you care? Because I don't! And guess what? I doesn't fucking matter if she likes you or not or if she wants me or not because I like you!” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“I like you! And I'll choose you over her and everyone else again and again and again until you notice but fuck it's so tiring. You're so fixated on why I let her drag me to her friends that you completely ignored me the rest of the time we were there and maybe if you looked at me more than once you would've realized that I was staring back at you the whole afternoon!” 

You let out an annoyed chuckle “So you were, Mingi.” 

“I was! I was trying to get you to look at me and notice how bad I wanted you to come over, rescue me from that boring ass conversation, grab my hand and claim your place right beside me because—” he pauses, resting a hand on the steering wheel and looking at you like he can't believe he has to spell this out for you “Because I want nothing more than for her and everyone to know I’m yours! I'm sure everyone already fucking knows too, except you. So yeah, sometimes, you're pretty fucking dumb for such a smart woman, Y/N.” 

Words escape you. They escape your mind, your reason and your pride shrinks until it disappears behind all the love you feel for Mingi. 

So that's what you are feeling. That's what you felt yesterday night when the tiredness couldn't drown out your thoughts of him and all he meant to you. 

Love, love, love. In all its forms, in all its possible scenarios. Your heart burns for it and you used to think that your hopeless romantic desires began and died with the movies you tend to see and the books you tend to read, that it was impossible to feel this way for anyone but there he is, chest heaving in the yellow interior light, waiting for you to say something back. 

“And I realize that before yesterday I showed no interest in you but believe me when I say that I—” 

Shakily, you interrupt him with whispered words, heart soaring and hands reaching out to cup his beautiful face “Shut the fuck up, Song Mingi.” 

When you kiss him, you make sure to pour out everything you couldn't say a minute ago into it. 

When he kisses you back with the same feeling, it crosses your mind that he already forgave you. 

And when he grabs your waist and drags you over the break handle and the transmission to collide his chest against yours and drag his tongue along the seam of your bottom lip, you think that, for the first time ever, you have to tell him he's right. 

You are stupid. Stupid for not realizing it sooner, stupid for confusing his longing stares for something platonic, stupid for thinking you could wait until tomorrow to tell him he has the right to see and be with anyone he wants to because this is it. 

This. The way your entire body comes alive when he sighs into your mouth and groans at the way your knee opens up his legs to make room for you on his side of the car and partially on his lap. The way his thumbs run through your cheeks and dry the tears you didn't even feel falling down. The way your heart jumps frantically and the way its beats could get confused by his because you're so close. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, you can't recall a time Mingi didn't make you feel this exact same way. It's overwhelming, it expands through you like a fire and it knocks the remaining air out of your lungs enough for you to pull away and rest your forehead against his, shaky breaths tangling together and fingers grasping the neck of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

You sniffle, incapable of not feeling emotional over his confession and your realization “I'm sorry, Mingi. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for treating you that way I was… I behaved like…” 

“An ass.” He nods and you look at him with the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nod as well “I was an ass. A jealous ass.” 

“I know, love.” He whispers, eyes moving on your face before his lips are on yours again, briefly, sweetly, even if you don't feel like you deserve it “You tend to forget that I know you, hm? That I've seen you jealous before? You were an ass back then, too.” 

“Okay! Okay, stop calling me an ass, I get it.” 

“I'm sorry for waiting for you to do something when you didn't even… I guess you didn't know, right? The way I feel about you?” 

“I know now,” you whisper back, nudging your nose against his and then putting some distance so you can see him better “I feel the same way, by the way. We're shit at communicating, apparently, so I'll just tell you now that—” 

His lips are on yours again and he's giggling against them and shaking his head when he pulls away. Brown eyes search for yours and you're not sure what he's looking in them but he seems to find it, his muscles relaxing against the leather of his seat seconds later. 

So you kiss him again. And again and again until your back starts hurting and the steering wheel is pressed uncomfortably against it, forcing you to shift on his hold. 

“Let me… Wait.” He lets you go to pull his seat back and then closes his legs, forcing your knee to fall on his other side so you can fully straddle his lap “That's better. Now come here.” And then he’s grabbing the back of your neck and stealing your breath away again with another kiss.

The tension shifts right then. When he can fully feel you pressing up against him and when a noise escapes you once his hands drop and give your bare legs the attention you didn't even know you were craving. 

You thought a second ago that the sweet kisses would stop once you were both sated with the sweet aftermath of all the yelling and confessing but now you don't want it to stop. 

There's a lot to catch up on, a lot of missed time you need to make up for. 

You still want to make him feel good. The sparks from yesterday come alive again and soon you're yanking the strands of dark hair with your fingers and letting your mouth explore the skin of his neck. When you sink your teeth into his skin, he lets out the same noise he did the night before and you smile against the mark you just made. 

His lips find your shoulder and he breathes hard into it once your hips start moving at their own accord, slowly yet firmly, the pad of his fingers digging hard on your thighs until you break away from his neck to focus on his face again. 

“This goddamn dress, love.” 

Humming, you caress his red cheek with your lips “What about it?” 

“Been thinking about it all day…” 

“It worked, by the way.” 

“Woo?” 

“Mhm. Distracted him so he didn't throw me in the pool right away.” 

“And Jongho?” 

“Probably plotting against me right now.” 

He laughs softly into your skin “Probably.” 

Chuckling as well, you stop your movements and take in how he looks. Gone, a little too fucked up from just making out, lips swollen and eyes clouded with something you're getting too familiar with, too quick. 

“Worked on you, too.” 

He smiles and shrugs, letting his head drop into the headrest “You look good in everything, love. It doesn't really matter what you wear.” 

“Oh?” 

A firm hand trails up your body, slowly, from you leg to your hip, your waist to the side of your breasts and your until it cops your face with affection you never imagined you would experience. 

“I have always thought you are the most beautiful girl to ever exist.” 

This is it. 

Leaning into his touch, your lips connect to the palm of the hand holding you before you lean forward again. 

“I love you, Mingi.” 

He doesn't seem surprised by your confession and you're glad he knows. It doesn't really matter if its too soon, if you even mean it in a romantic way or not, the love you have for him transcends all labels. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

And his does too. 

You kiss him until it hurts. 

He kisses you until you're gasping and your body is pleading for more. 

The both of you kiss each other until you're sure nothing else will replace the taste of one another, that it will linger forever even if your paths stop crossing at any point in time. 

It feels like you're trapped somewhere where the clock doesn't tick at all, where you can take your time exploring him with your mouth and your hands. 

And then it doesn't. 

The fabric of the dress starts bothering you, his tight shirt is suddenly not tight enough and the hardness steadily growing and pressing into your core is screaming for attention you can't give him with all these clothes on the way. 

He feels it too, fingers tracing the hem of your dress for the second time today and then they're under it, pulling at the fabric up until it bunches on your waist. 

You're still wearing the swimsuit he helped you put on earlier but it does little to conceal how affected you are. Looking down, you're not even ashamed of it when he follows your eyes and let his linger on the patch of wetness darkening the color of the bottoms. 

Still, he moves his hands upwards again and soon you're struggling to get the dress off, considering you're almost bumping the roof of the car when you straighten your spine to do so. 

“Wanna know what crossed my mind when I saw you in the bathroom?” 

When it's finally off, he immediately goes for it: His index tracing your collarbone and slowly descending, his short nail dragging against your skin before the rest of his fingers join, right in between your breasts, where there's fabric holding together the top of the swimsuit. 

He could easily tug on it if he wanted to. Instead, he ignores it and presses the heel of his hand against it, forcing you to lean back and almost bump into the steering wheel again. 

Unable to speak and panting, you only nod as a reply to his question. 

“How easy it would be to get on my knees and eat you out. I thought: What if I just…” Using his other hand to mess with the knots that keep the left bottom part of the swimsuit together, he demonstrates what he means without actually doing it, his eyes following the motions “Undo these, get on my knees and make her come all over my face?” 

“Fuck, Mingi…” 

“You would like that, wouldn't you?” He smirks without actually looking at you, the hand on your sternum traveling down against your skin before joining the other one, teasing the knots on the right. 

“Y-yes.” 

Maybe he can see it on your face, the sudden nervousness at the scene he painted before you, because he grabs one of your hands and brings them to his lips before drawing you close again “Please tell me your idiot ex-boyfriend ate you out when you were together.” 

Blush darkening, you make a face that gives the answer away. 

He groans “He's worse than I thought, fuck. Come here.” And without any warning, the back of his seat goes down until it touches the backseat with it.

Bracing yourself against his chest, because you went down with him as well, you huff out a surprised laugh “Go where?” 

“Up here. Let me teach you something tonight.” 

“Mingi…” 

“First, you need to make sure your hands are clean—” 

“Stop,” laughing, you interrupt his bad attempt at teasing you with the same words you used on him yesterday “There's no real support for me if we do this, where do I even—” 

“Knees here,” he motions the backseat and you could actually do it, but you would have to sit on his face instead of hovering like you imagine it would be more comfortable for him “hands here” he points to the grab handle and the headrest of the passenger seat and then straightens his spine a little, bringing his face closer to you so he can whisper right into your worn out lips “Turn the light off, I'll do the rest.” 

He looks like he's going to kiss you but then he falls back onto the seat with an excited smile curving his lips. 

What a tease. 

So of course you turn off the light and prop yourself up into the position he wants to. It's challenging, the car is not that small but it feels like it is and you very much would rather do this on a bed, spare his back and yours in the process, but excitement also runs through your body and your brain stops making up excuses for why should deny yourself of the pleasure of Mingi using his mouth to make you see stars the second his fingers undo the knots and peel the bottom half of your swimsuit off your body with ease. 

Lips trailing up your inner thighs and hands on each side of them, holding you in a secure position, Mingi doesn't tease you much before attaching his mouth to your heat and your subconsciousness flies out the window when his tongue flicks your clit. 

You look down at him and the sight of him enjoying himself has you beaming, the warmth spreads through you and the zeroes on your pussy. You don't even try to quiet down your moans, completely forgetting that you're in a public parking lot that can fill up at any second. 

But paying no mind to it either, Mingi also moans encouragingly into your wet folds when your hips move a little, chasing that high. 

He shifts his focus to your entrance, his tongue working itself into you and when you move your hips again at the feeling, his nose bumps into your clit in a way that has you grasping the headrest for support, right hand slipping down and resting on the window while your mouth hangs open and your eyes shut close. 

“Mingi… Baby, fuck, I'll—” he adds his thumb into his ministrations, pressing it against your clit the way he did yesterday and it only takes a few side to side movements for you to come undone on his mouth. 

And again, the intensity of your orgasm takes you by surprise. It's obviously not as intense as yesterday's but it still got you trembling so you want to curse him out for being that good at what he does. 

He eases you into it, slowing his mouth and you only register that it leaves you completely when your thighs are being kissed tenderly. 

Breathless, you look down at him and catch his smile before his teeth are sinking into your skin and forcing you to hiss out a laugh “Good?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, climbing down from your position and hovering over his lap in an attempt to not ruin his jeans. It's very obvious he enjoyed it too, his crotch holding the evidence tight and probably painfully against the fabric there “Really, really good.” 

You want to get on your knees and return the favor, make him squirm in pleasure, but the space is not working in your favor. So even though your thighs are hurting and sweat is dripping down your neck, you start working on the button and zipper of his jeans before he sits up.

He wants to say something, but your tongue is touching his and tasting yourself on it before he gets the chance. Clumsily, a little too far gone for your liking as well, you are able to get through the layers of clothes and let your hand hang over his dick “Are you gonna make me beg for it today?” 

“You don't have to, love.” 

“Beg?” you ask with a smile that he reciprocates “Or touch you?” your free hand brushes the hair out of his face, sliding down until you're propping his chin up with it, thumb tracing his bottom lip softly “Because I want to touch you. I want to make you feel so, so good, baby. Please.” 

He kisses the pad of your thumb and then takes it into his mouth, tongue caressing the tip of it until you're panting again and then nods. 

That's all the permission you need before taking him with your hand and pulling him out of his boxers. Taking your hand out briefly, you gather up saliva and spit right into it. 

Mingi lets out a noise at that. Interesting. 

Starting slow, you focus on his expression. Testing the waters, taking note of what he likes because, unlike him, you probably pushed to the corner of your mind every sexual conversation you two had before yesterday. You take a second to look down at it, the size is no surprise but your mouth waters at the image of you taking him into the heat of it. 

Maybe another time. For now, you focus on making him feel good with the little you can offer him in the enclosed space of his car. 

He mouths at your neck, choked up sobs vibrate through the skin on your collarbone and your top gets moved to the side so he can mark the side of your boobs as he pleases. It sets the fire inside of you alive again, your folds getting wetter when he rolls his tongue around your nipple and then throws his head back when you twist your hand in a motion he seems to really enjoy.

“Just like that, love.” 

To your delight, he's not quiet. He's loud, he's grabby, taking the opportunity to hold onto your ass and press down on the skin when you tease his slit and gather his precum on your fingers so you can spread it around his cock and your hand can slide easier. 

Movements get sloppy once he's close, he's no longer paying attention to you and you welcome it as a great sign, his hips bucking into your hand and he moves you forward until you're sitting on his lap again. 

The only thing preventing your pussy and his dick to touch being your hand. 

You glance at him and he looks back, probably the same idea popping up into his mind so you nod once.

The car moves as you two move around, to the back seat, the spine of his seat up and the entire thing moving forward to make space for him next to you, over you, on top of you once he kicks his jeans and boxers off to the floor. 

You reach out to him in a silent plea and he bends down to kiss you soft and moist and hot and breathy, sensually, with sweet sounds escaping both of you when you reach under his shirt and lift it up until he gets what you want. Discarding it with the rest of his clothes, your top follows it and the contentment you feel when his naked chest touches yours is unmeasurable. 

There's no real room to move around and there's not really any patience left within both of you, so when he apologizes when he moves his hips where he shouldn't and his tip brushes your entrance, you pull back from his bruising mouth. 

“Condom. Now.” 

He obliges right away, searching on his jeans for a minute or so and when he comes back he's smirking like he can't believe you “When I told you we needed to raincheck I didn't mean it to be like this. Bossy.” 

Even if you're punching him on his chest and giggling at his breathy words, you take the teasing with pride “You started it, Mingi!” 

Putting the condom on skilled and fast, he's soon resting his forehead against yours and kissing you softly again “I wanted you on my bed…” his lips trail down and the giggles die on your throat as he's kissing it, a moan escaping you “On your back or knees or riding me…” he continues in a whisper going down and down and down, giving your nipples attention before going back up and taking your mouth in his again “Making a mess on my cock…” 

He takes the opportunity to enter you slowly and you gasp at the stretch, wet enough so it doesn't hurt you but you're unfamiliar with him, with his size splitting you open deliciously. 

“F-fuck, Y/N.” Mingi leans back to watch you take him in and you whine again. Tilting your head back, you let him work himself in and you moan loudly when he almost bottoms out “Look at you…” 

You don't. You can't. He's pressing his thumb on your clit again to ease you through the stretch and it makes the heat pool in your belly like you didn't come in his mouth a few minutes ago. 

Slowly but surely it gets easier for him to rock his hips into you, mouth parting in pleasure when you remind yourself to look at him. His abdomen tenses when you run your nails against the skin there, softly, until you're detouring them into his back and sinking them in just enough to have him whining at the feeling. 

“Baby… Harder.” 

“Yeah?” 

Hips bucking up to meet his at a particularly hard trust, you reach up to him so he can rest his body weight on yours. Close like this, with the pace picking up, the knot on your lower half tightens and threatens to break. 

“You take me so well, love. Fuck, always knew you would,” you know he can feel your walls tightening around him at the praise, because he smiles and kisses you once before continuing “My pretty, pretty girl… Taking my cock so well…” he punctuates his words with the roll of his hips and you cry out, holding his face in between your hands, his eyes never leaving yours. 

In this position, his lower abdomen bumps into your clit and it's soon tipping you over the edge. 

“So good, so good, oh— Oh, God.” You're mumbling incoherently while Mingi keeps whispering sweet nothings and then the tension on your belly breaks. It takes three seconds of your walls pulsating around him for him to groan loudly into your mouth and come undone as well. 

The only thing you can hear is breathing, all you can feel is breathing. His against your chin, yours blowing on his hair when you rest your cheek on his temple. 

It takes a second to gather yourself again and when you do, you tilt your head back to give him a chaste kiss that he returns. 

“That was so good, baby.” You tell him and he smiles, nodding in agreement “I am sticking to the fucking seat though.” 

Mingi snorts and just like that the energy shifts back to the usual you. Only this time, you come back to it knowing that no one’s ever going to have you the way he does. 

He slips out of you, doing his thing with the condom and you sit up, looking through the windows and becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time since you got there. 

There's a car parked far away from you that's empty and the rest of the cars that were near it have left. You wonder how long this all took, because you lost track of time the second he told you he likes you. 

Chest still heaving and boxers now on, Mingi rests his back on the door and takes your hand in his “Is it dumb of me to assume you're my girlfriend now, love?” 

“Is it dumb that I assumed that's what I was when you said you like me?” 

“No,” he answers right away “not dumb at all.” 

Smiling, you nod “Then I'm your girlfriend, Mingi.” 

He beams at that and then he's crowding you again “Say it again.” 

“I'm your girlfriend.” you repeat, enunciating each word and giggling when he nuzzles his nose into the crimson on your cheek “I’m yours, baby.” 

Resting his forehead against yours, he hums in contempt “Good, because I've always been yours too.” 

“There's no way! You two... together? Guys… See, that would be me if I didn't saw it coming but I'm smarter and cooler than everyone here so I did.” 

Wooyoung's over the top reaction has Mingi throwing his head back in a silent laugh and you staring at the black haired guy, unamused and a little offended. 

It's two days later and, as usual, you're at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment hanging out. 

After putting your clothes back on and going for some well deserved food, Mingi took you home, kissed you goodnight and showed up the next day after class to break the news to your parents. 

Your mom almost cried. Your dad too, but for a completely different reason. 

In the end, they both agreed they saw it coming and when you told Mingi’s parents, they said the same thing and invited yours to have celebratory dinner without you. 

What happened in Mingi’s room after was worth missing dinner anyways. 

Mingi and you decided to break the news when most of the group showed up for movie night and you were nervous to see their reactions. 

But everyone seems unaffected by it. 

“I knew you guys liked each other the second I met you. Ask Gyuri, she agrees with me.” 

“Sadly, I do.” Wooyoung's ex looks at you from her spot by the door, where she's getting her shoes on. 

She winks at you and you fake a gasp, falling into your boyfriend's lap with an annoyed huff. 

“And no one told us?!” 

“Sorry, Y/N. We didn't want to get in the way.” Hwa is apologetic and Yeosang nods alongside Hongjoong but you gape at them like they betrayed your trust. 

“To be fair we didn't know till’ last week, love.” 

“She didn't know.” Gyuri corrects him and now you turn to her to give her the betrayed look “You were pining over it for six months already.” 

“I say it was more like nine but…” Hwa shrugs and sips his cup, giving the man holding you close a knowing smile. 

Oh, they definitely talked about it, huh? 

“Nine months and no one cared to fill me in, huh?” 

“I’m sure Mingi did—” 

“Wooyoung!” 

“Well I didn't notice.” Yunho interferes with a shrug and gives you a recomforting smile that doesn't work at all. 

San laughs “That's because you're a puppy that can't even tell when someone likes you.” 

“Am not!” 

Everyone, including you and Mingi, make a noise in agreement with San.  

“You're one to talk, though, leave the puppy alone.” Gyuri tells her ex's best friend and Wooyoung laughs at him when his smile drops. 

There's some story there you don't know. 

“Guys… Does someone like me right now? Be honest.” 

Yeosang is about to tell him something but Jongho interrupts. 

“Enough with the love talk! Can we start the movie?” But he's pressing play already, so the answer doesn't really matter. 

Gyuri laughs once and Wooyoung makes his way over to her to give her a hug that she enjoys for one second tops before pushing him away. 

“Enjoy everyone! I'm so happy for you two, by the way, not that these neanderthals would tell you to your face but I'm sure they're too.” 

“Thank you, Gyuri.” Mingi murmurs from behind you and you mouth a thank you as well before she leaves for the night. 

Something about her best friend having a boy crisis. 

You don't miss the way San’s eyes follow her until she leaves or the way he looks at Woo, something clearly worrying him. 

His best friend ignores him, though, so you confirm that might just be a little pissed off at him after all. 

“Tell her to text you what happens.” San asks Woo once she leaves and he rolls his eyes. 

“Mhm. I’ll tell her to stop calling us neanderthals too.” 

You smile “Well, she's right.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

Jongho has to stop the movie and you see him sulk while everyone else is arguing. Some of them, like Hwa and Yeo, are siding with you and Gyuri. And the rest of them, like your boyfriend, are telling them off. 

When you turn to face him, his argument dies mid-sentence because he stops to smile at you. He takes your face in his hand and kisses you for the first time ever in front of everyone else. The group stops the argument to tease you both and you laugh into his mouth. 

A cushion is thrown at you and Jongho gets up to separate your faces before sitting beside you with a pout on his lips. 

“Can we watch the goddamn movie?!” 

You're the happiest you've ever been.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[iceunhie]

— out of this world (and into another) : genshin impact

premise: you could've sworn the transmigration curse didn't have an effect on you... so what exactly are you doing here?! (alternatively, you tumble straight into your favorite video game; and you're kinda fucked)

...or, a genshin manhwa otome game inspired au.

act i: scaramouche, alhaitham, wriothesley.

↳ act ii: lyney, neuvilette, kazuha, kaeya. (next)

warnings. fem!reader but can be imagined as genderless if u'd like hehe, a shit ton of manhwa tropes in one, this is a hot mess aka not proofread all that much, half clunky half decent writing

a/n: as promised via the poll heh,, while i do plan to make this an actual au, im not that sure ^^; just the tip of the iceberg here tho!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | AU MASTERLIST (coming soon)

YOU — unsuspecting civilian turnt transmigrator

you've always been too attached to fictional characters for your own good.

yes, even the ones that are remarkably irredeemable (the power of a backstory is very formidable) and complex (complexity is a virtue!)

villains have always been destined to die, be cursed, or destined to curse others. it was heartbreaking, really. you've wished for a chance to rewrite their fates for them to find even a sliver of happiness, even when the fate of their plot says otherwise.

which is why when you find yourself awake into the game of your dreams, “Teyvat's Seven Stars”, like any lover of cliche novel and manhwa tropes, this is the time you think that maybe life wasn't so shitty on you.

....there's only one tiny, teensy, itty bitty problem here, actually.

you're not the protagonist. you're not even one of the protagonist's faithful friends and underlings that light protagonist's road to conquering the world and its men (and as of the 4.0 update, it's women); no, you're none of those.

you're a no name extra, and not to mention, a character involved with the game's main villain characters who are coincidentally the love interests of the game's black route!

[ unlock transmigration package: ultimate transmigrator's route ( ????? MODE ) ]

[ no ] [ yes ]

( 国崩 ) SCARAMOUCHE — the tyrant

“as of today, you will be engaged to crown prince kunikuzushi, who is her grace the shogun's rightful heir to the throne.”

when given approval to stare at your so-called soon to be husband, you expect the worst, mostly. the multitudes of character dialogue you've played through detailing his rather discourteous personality (which basically meant he was a huge asshole) don't exactly paint a pretty picture.

however...

who was this tender hearted looking scaramouche that ‘obliterated armies in the blink of an eye?’ the t in tyrant stands for tyrannical, not timid!

eyes like lighting framed by the longest eyelashes you've ever seen and an unfairly pretty face, comparable to a fair lotus. after fawning over his otherworldly countenance, a sinking realization of dread pools in your stomach.

oh, you are so screwed.

essentially tied to the indigo-haired ticking time bomb of a future tyrant due to the strong standing of your family for a period of until the main story starts, you're destined to never get crown prince scaramouche's affection, being his fiancée who scaramouche is arranged to for political means only.

not to mention, you're in an even more deadly position; of all the characters you switched souls with, it's the one that essentially dies by their own fiancé's hand because they were horrible to him! what atrocious luck!

frantic, you wrack up about three ways to survive.

plan a) win over the shogun's favor by being an appropriate partner unlike the original flavor of this body, who resorted to bullying the innocent prince and unknowingly digging their own grave or b) be a guiding friend to scaramouche as he learns the ways of the world and c) make sure you don't end up giving the protagonist a bad ending via his twisted personality.

weighing all these options, you decide to do all three in hopes to cement a life instead of a deathflag. prevention is better than the cure (aka: the protagonist) after all!

(you may also just want to spend time with your favorite character. having a time limit and a sign that says ‘i'll die in the future!’ should at least warrant you extra time to show some affection to scaramouche, at least.)

so, you do what anyone in your position would do: give affection! lots of it.

admittedly, it wasn't all flowers and rainbows. scaramouche—ahem, kunikuzushi—was very shy and reserved indeed, with his mother ei even worse off! (besides, who trains and studies all day and has to stop crying every time they were injured?! that was just too much!)

it was rather hard at first, the frigid atmosphere of the usually silent Tenshukaku Palace almost impossible to permeate. but with your amazing charm (read: deathflag radar) and social skills, you manage to let the members of the Royal family open up to you.

speaking words of praise in ei's cooking (a very difficult feat to accomplish), spending afternoons with your fiancé and teaching him ‘how to be a shoujo worthy male lead, name-version’ (very confusing to explain), and the cherry on top, driving away that vile teacher of his—the Doctor—once word got out that he'd been taking advantage of scaramouche as a political puppet king in the future. trauma enabler destroyed! look at your immeasurable powers!

(“you're not a failure.” clasping kunikuzushi's hands in yours as he reels back from you. damn that doctor.

his tears shot a wave of heartache through you. you can't bear to see your favorite in such suffering. “whatever happens in the future, i won't abandon you.

no matter what, i'll always be on your side, okay?”

kunikuzushi looks at you with something in his eyes—something like adoration. “do you promise that?”

“yeah.” you say without hesitation, the glow of the sunlight hitting your face so dazzlingly that kunikuzushi's eyes widen that his mouth hangs agape in awe. “i promise, kuni.”)

to your greatest delight, your efforts worked in your favor.

ei now spends time with her son, and though it's almost always just a tad bit awkward, you and the guuji yae miko get the two to strike up conversation, and overtime, kunikuzushi becomes more open to you.

(“[name], what kind of man is your type?”

“huh? well...” you think for a while. this was a great opportunity to say it, right? that life changing protagonist quote!

“to me, the only person i'll ever like the most is you, kunikuzushi.”

“do you really, really mean that?” and oh, he looks so cute—flustered and red from your words. worth it.

“yup! now, i made some shimi chazuke, try some—”)

(admittedly, lots of favoritism is involved.)

—and while you reap the fruits of your hard work, you spend warm, sunlit afternoons with ei at tea, even learning about other nations from scaramouche's aunt nahida and even befriended a few of his future affiliates—childe (though for some reason, kunikuzushi always pulls you away from him whenever he spots the two of you together), signora (she tolerates you, you think) and etcetera.

(“then, if i do well, can you kiss me on the cheek, [name]?”

you agree, much to his delight. scaramouche avoids the gaze of a certain pink haired fox eyeing him questionably. unbeknownst to you, he glares at the woman's scrutiny.)

unprecedented things unrelated to the plot happen too; like how your family, which basically only saw you as a political bargaining chip and an unwanted child they could get rid of easily—no longer sent you any demeaning letters demanding money once scaramouche found out....

(“they've been leeching off of you for how long?” so scary... is this was kunikuzushi is like when he's worried?)

(“...kunikuzushi, how long will you keep up that weak-hearted facade of yours? if they find out how.... dishonest you are....”

“i don't need the reminders of a foxy old hag that doesn't know her place. this is fine as it is.”)

(you don't need to know.)

but, you're nothing compared to the inevitable flow of the plot. inazuma is wracked with war, and it just so happened that you'd been unceremoniously kidnapped by a certain resistance leader's trusted general, used as a hostage bargain for approximately the majority of your life. in the worst moments in your dreary cell, there's only one thought in your mind.

....kunikuzushi's face, devastated when he tries to reach for you, before slipping away from him like sand— face morphing into an unbridled state of rage that's too natural, too familiar. when did he learn to make a face like that?

(they say the kingdom was wracked with thunderstorms all night that day.)

afterwards, fate doesn't make it kind for you.

years go by in the blink of an eye, with your capture fervently forgotten in the midst of the growing animosity of the two conflicting forces.

although you did hear that yae sent out a search party for you while at the resistance's base, the shogun's forces never reached you.

eventually, you got released secretly by sympathy of kokomi, the leader of the resistance, who felt pity for you getting caught in the crossfire. letting you go under the condition that you'd likely never meet any of the precious characters you've gotten to know and change was a heavy price to pay, but you didn't have any choice.

indeed, no matter how much you tried to divert the plot, your duty as an extra has ended, and you were even lucky to even be alive. you could only hope that your fiancé—ex-fiancé—took note of your lessons well, bidding farewell to inazuma as you hop on the boat to mondsdat.

by now, you at least hoped that scaramouche and the protagonist met, his true chance at happiness starting now that you were basically dead.

(even if your heart felt like breaking into a million pieces.)

....is what you thought would happen, but why is it that after three years from your supposed capture, inazuma was still at war?

“that crazy prince... he's still working to find his former fiancée... and he's razing almost every village apart looking for them!”

“—didn't the shogunate say that whoever finds her would receive almost 3 million mora?”

“the entire lot of them are lunatics, i tell you. all because of a missing person, too!”

what's more, why was it still going because of you?!

( 艾尔海森 ) AL-HAITHAM: the information guild master

to be fair, normal people don't really run into one of their favorite characters often after transmigrating.

but to be fair, again, you certainly didn't think you'd actually be in your favorite video game franchise caged in bed with essentially one of its main love interests.

eyes wide and unceremoniously looking—definitely not ogling— at the toned body that's currently enveloping you in its arms, the soft tuft of ashy gray hair caressing the crook of your neck, murmuring incoherent mumbles of—is that another language?

???????

you blink, looking down at the bare body currently embracing you. oh. oh.

you're an extra.

you're just an extra, but why are you in bed, currently being served breakfast by the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on, with a pretty view of the rainforests' canopy?

“you should lie down. if i recall, sufficient sleep is required in order for the human body to perform its basic bodily functions. although our partnership is temporary, to let you fall to harm is a situation i'd like to avoid as much as possible.”

“....what?”

“...?”

the guild master, al-haitham, is a character in Teyvat's Seven Stars that is heavily debated on whether he's technically a villain or not. in the game, he's the right hand of sumeru's leader, nahida, working as the overseer of the AKASHA, a guild that gathers information to the nation's leader. he's a pretty shady character—always working behind the scenes and very unfalteringly blunt—and a ‘villain’ for crown prince scaramouche's route, helping the protagonist escape his clutches.

he's often the subject of comedic ire, his banters with a certain broke architect always the highlight of any bonafide al-haitham fan.

“we're expected to work together by lord kusanali's decree in the duration of investigating the hivemind project the lord suspects the baron siraj is partaking in.”

right, that one scene in the game where al-haitham needed to go undercover to infiltrate a coup de etat staged by one of the factions against nahida... right... what.

you were that extra! the one that fell in love with him and pined for his affection!

(“well, i get that part, but does sleeping together really have to play a part in this...?”

al-haitham gives you a mere quirk of the lip, tilting his head. “we do have to play the part of a married couple in dire straights, do we not? this cover is more efficient.

...besides, i don't have anything to complain about. you're certainly better company than kaveh.” )

in truth, al-haitham wasn't bad company. far from it. aside from the internal giggling and fangirling (you) and the incredible stack of books (alhaitham) that you have to see more than the grey haired man on a daily basis, the two of you work out a rapport that stems from memories of the body you transmigrated in.

he's nice to be around, surprisingly considerate when he wants to be—he tells you about the books he always reads....

(who even reads ‘20 Tongues Language Memorization Guidebook: A Basic Overview of Vocabulary and Terms’ for enjoyment?

the content makes your head run in circles because of how complicated it is; but who wouldn't like to listen to an extremely attractive man overexplain to you with a calm and pretty voice?)

...is generous enough to provide meals and cook dinners that have you crying tears of gratitude because you know how awful yours compares (it was either too bland or too seasoned; al-haitham is surprisingly picky when he wants to be)

(you assigned al-haitham the title of “absolute s-tier husband material”— his capabilities are out of this world!)

by chance, you once gave al-haitham a little tidbit of information that proved to be valuable later in the investigation—courtesy of your avid game knowledge—when you two had been lost to the psychological illusion magic cast by siraj when you two finally broke in his estate.

(“whatever happens, if siraj messes with your mind, just make sure to think of me instead of anything else.” al-haitham lets his hand find yours.

“you once asked me if i trusted you, [name].”

“....” you're treated to one of al-haitham's rare smiles, one that warms you up from within. “i do. so don't let yourself get hurt.”)

however, your temporary partner had faltered for once, flinching when siraj took the form of his old grandmother who'd passed to exploit al-haitham's mind, hesitating and frozen in place while siraj inched ever closer to finding out his weakness.

and you couldn't stand it, the character you cared for—the al-haitham that always had a plan, always knew how to stay calm, had looked so unsure and hopeless.

(“wake up, al-haitham!”

with you cradling his face, al-haitham stares back at the only constant in the memories of his grief, eyes meeting yours. “you don't have to do it all alone. i'm right here, aren't i? believe in me.”)

your (fake) husband snaps back to reality, finally allowing enough time to apprehend siraj and put a stop to his malicious project.

(“thank you.” al-haitham tells you solemnly. it hits you that this may be the last time you may ever see him. “i'm grateful that you brought me back to y— to my senses.”

there's a sincerity in your voice that rings from your heart. “anytime, al-haitham.”)

you thought that was the end of it.

defeating siraj meant you two no longer had to associate with each other, but somehow, to your great surprise, al-haitham doesn't stick to the plot at all. you were sure you didn't interfere with the game, though?

for some reason, al-haitham doesn't erase himself from your life, unlike the original route's flow.

in fact, he's become... easy to run into, a constant in your otherwise mundane life. he takes you out to lambad's tavern for an occasional drink, says he's lending you his headphones when you find yourself overwhelmed by the city (you were never good with noises) and even helps you out as you vent your problems to him.

(the day after, said problem conveniently disappears. how strange....)

and most of all, allowing you to enter his personal space... leaving kaveh's jaw dropping when he accuses al-haitham of having a lover.

“you're always going who knows where with them! what else is there to figure out?”

“...we are merely friends.”

“a friend that you let into your personal library? do they know that you still keep the ‘fake’ ring in a box inside the closet?” kaveh laughs. “nice try, al-haitham.”

(after all, kaveh could never unsee the way al-haitham's eyes softened at the feeling of the head on his shoulder lean onto him, with you no doubt asleep. he even took his headphones off! kaveh has never seen him actually take them off in order to keep the person who's sleeping on his shoulder as undisturbed as possible.

in fact, kaveh doesn't think he's ever seen al-haitham be this touchy or considerate with anyone this much before.

.....and most importantly, kaveh would never forget the way al-haitham, a man who found no merit in politeness and preferred bluntness, a man who preferred solitude rather than company—deliberately getting close to someone—pressing a fleeting kiss on the crown of your head.

kaveh blinks. it seems even the throes of love can reach even the most unconquerable of peaks....)

( 莱欧斯利 ) WRIOTHESLEY — the monster duke of the north

“—i need you to gather information on duke wriothesley. serve him undercover as one of the prisoners of the fortress.”

the duke of meropide—a man swamped with terrible rumors. they say he was exiled from the nation due to murdering his entire family. they say he possessed a face worthy of the title of a beast— grotesque, littered in scars. they say that any who end up in his estate, the iron prison of the north, meropide, never saw the light of day again.

(“only criminals of the worst kind are fated to be sentenced there. nobody returns, so we've stopped questioning it...” )

so to say you're not fearing for your life that bad right now is a massive understatement.

“now, mind telling me how you were able to sneak into the most impenetrable prison in all the land, miss prisoner?”

how did it end up like this?

so you wake up and find yourself in jail. lovely.

seriously, of all the places you can transmigrate into, why did it have to be fontaine?! Teyvat's Seven Stars chapter 4's main starting point, the nation of justice is littered with dark themes and high difficulty capture targets.

.... such is the case with the man in front of you. unlike what the rumors of him say, duke wriothesley paints a rugged yet dashing picture of a nobleman, even if he was —if you recall— one of the hardest capture targets to conquer in the game.

a villain character who you played once during one game route, acting as the driving force during one of the love events of one of the protagonist's other love interest, lyney. duke wriothesley almost assassinates lyney's younger brother, freminent, leading lyney to rally up a certain group to bring the nobleman down.... a typical side character villain, who's existence was added as late as 3 patches away from lyney's.

(even inazuma would be better than this! at least the tyrant route could be avoided, and let's not mention the easy sumeru route as well...)

“well, miss prisoner, cat got your tongue?”

in summary: fortunately for you, the body you transmigrated is in the position to spy on the current affairs of the fortress of meropide, with courtesy and with permission of one of Fontaine's leaders, neuvillette. unfortunately for you, it seems our dear monsieur wasn't able to inform wriothesley beforehand, leading to the current situation.

aka, you're pressed dangerously close to wriothesley's chest, with a knife at his throat and his hands pinning you against the wall, noses almost touching. you're not sure if this is even the kind of tension that two people who are trying to kill each other are supposed to have...

(“i'm an ally!” you sputter out. wriothesley raises an eyebrow at you. “monsieur neuvillette sent me.”

“how am i supposed to trust you after i saw you slinking around here, knife at my throat?” he replies, eyes narrowing. “i know that i'm labelled as a beast, but i don't really know what came over that pretty little head of yours when trying to sneak into my chambers.”

what does he take you for?! “...are you accusing me of something indecent?!”

“just saying — i've met lots of prisoners with your excuse, my lady.”

“i'm prepared to use this knife, you know.”

“hah.” wriothesley grins. “how aggressive. more aggressive than most. do you want me that bad?”

“stop twisting my words!”)

in any case, you hate wriothesley. you know he's one of the characters in Teyvat's Seven Stars and is a villain for one of the easy love interest routes in the game, but his personality is... a real piece of work.

you'd rather the protective and kind kazuha, or even the charming and elusive lyney! why did it have to be him?

not only did he not believe you, he even told you to prove your authenticity! you're just glad that his assistant sigewinne had been there to vouch for you — you're not sure if you'd even be on your two feet right now if she didn't.

so now you're stuck constantly on your feet, running to and fro — helping the dark-haired man record new prisoners, establishing trading routes to the main city of Fontaine, and treating other prisoners of the fortress with sigewinne.

your biggest surprise by far, though, is just how... different the duke is from the rumors. his scars were merely battle scars of honor (to which sigewinne rolls her eyes, “your grace, please stop trying to look cool”) he got from various succession fights, not scars to show how he was cursed to turn into a beast. he has a love for tea, but always seems to have a cup of your favorite blend with him when you feel tired after a long day of working (laboring) for him and the estate.

(“your daily report of new convicts, your grace.”

“-this is the tea you like, your grace. i've prepared it in advance.”

“you're very adamant on proving yourself. aren't you sick of such tasks by now, miss prisoner?”

“no.” wriothesley's expression screams 'why not?' on it. “ it's because of my own misjudgement of you.”

“...elaborate.”

“i may have had unnecessary prejudices on your conduct thus far. but you're... not like what the rumors paint you out to be.” you say sincerely. “you're more amazing and incredible than anyone else. i truly do admire you.”

wriothesley's expression; you couldn't decipher it. “i see.”)

he's battered, but caring. sigewinne makes you watch (in horror) as she doodles cartoonish looking characters on his face when he's asleep — wriothesley never fusses, only an exasperated sigh to his assistant. he's harsh with his tasks and duties, but is the first to rush you into sigewinne's infirmary to tend to you after you pass out from overwork.

(“don't worry, [name]. the duke may not look it, but he's very gentle!” sigewinne giggles. humoring the little girl who was the first to show you actual decency in this place, you try to nod. sigewinne doesn't seem convinced.

“i'm serious! after all, compared to other people who've snuck into the fortress, you're the first he's treated this way.” she says cheerily.

“what does that mean?” you can't help but scoff at that. “so he just works someone to the bone from the get go?” you shudder. damn production zone...

sigewinne blinks. “ oh no, not like that. it's just that he's never been so lenient before. in fact, when you fainted, he even gave me the order to prioritize treating you over anything else.”)

well, this wasn't exactly what you thought you would be doing when you transmigrated into your favorite game, but you suppose you can take it.

besides, you'd miss a certain duke otherwise. life truly is full of strange twists....

a/n: thank you for making it this far! if anyone asks why wriothesley's was short, listen, this was completely impulsive and i was out of inspiration LOL, but i do hope you enjoy! look forward to new parts though hehe :3

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[sweetnans]

Pairing: Fem reader/Bakugo Katsuki. Tw: Mention of injuries. Some angst with happy ending.

You turned on the TV, lately it was the only thing that could get you out of your head after you (mostly you) and your (ex) boyfriend decided it was better to go separate ways. Gladly, you sat in awe when you watched the main character of your favorite reality show (a guilty pleasure that only Katsuki knew about). You were very attracted by the fights, the plots, the drama, and the challenges.

The male character was about to kiss his enemy, the one and only that sabotage his new cabain made of leaves and branches when the Tv went all black, then the news started.

The helicopter was flying above a big villain who was making the hell of a mess downtown. Dozens of heroes were fighting with their quirks and abilities, trying to put it down, but it seemed like the fight was just in the beginning, and that monster was the kind that need a lot of time to knock down.

"Shit" you whispered to the TV when familiar faces started to appear.

You didn't miss Kirishima's red hair. The man himself was being held by his classmate and friend Todoroki while they slid on ice. Kaminari was there too, putting his electronic devices everywhere near the villain.

Your eyes were darting all over the screen. If you could enter to it to see further, God knows you would. You were looking for him, searching all over the place, discharging everyone who didn't look like him. It was hard. Everything was happening so fast that you were missing everyone you laid your eyes on.

"Dammit, please don't be there, please don't be there..."

It was selfish and unrealistic. Even if he wasn't on duty (like you), he would've run to the scenario, that is why he chose a place near his agency, to be there when he's needed.

Emergency messages started to ring on your electronic devices, the authorities called to an immediate evacuation to the zone.

You were far away. Bakugo made sure of that when he made you look for a place near the coast rather than downtown. You told him that you would be so far from him, and he said he didn't mind taking the subway or calling for a cab.

You were lost in your thoughts when you spotted him, but suddenly the helicopter ended the transmission when it got hit by the villain, and everything went blury. In an instant, you grabbed the television in despair like if holding onto it with that strength would make everything appear again.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck"

That's it, fuck the alarms, fuck the commission, you were going in.

You were aware that at least twenty heroes were there and a few more were about to arrive but you couldn't care less, you needed to see him.

You ran to your closet to find your gear when the Tv started the transmission again. You spotted him again, Deku was on his back, laid on the floor with Uravity on his hands. The cameraman zoomed, and it seemed like she was brutally injured but still breathing. Your heart started to beat so fast. He was the first in line, and you knew that his hands were starting to hurt just for the look he had on his face and the little twitch on his left eyebrow.

The back-ups started to appear one by one, some of them on foot, other through the air. Mina bathed the villain in her acid, and it made him go down on his knees. That was a huge help for the ones that couldn't fly. The sparks that you know too well appeared close to the screen. While Bakugo ignited his hands, Deku and Todoroki immobilized the Villain while Sero caged him with his tape, Creati appeared out of nothing and started tossing granades that exploded against the villain's body, penetrating through the thick layers of his skin. The villain fell right after.

Everybody cheered, they have reporters in different places along the city, recording the reaction of the people who were gathered watching the fight.

On the other hand, the heroes...

They. Were. Beated.

And you were on your knees right in front of the TV, processing everything that could've happened but didn't. Tears started to fall down your cheeks.

You hated what you were feeling. You didn't want to be that kind of person. The kind that realizes what could have lost once you can't have it anymore. He was a fucking person for God's sake and you played with him just because you were scared and now you were mourning something that didn't happened.

You wanted to be there every time he gets home all messy and full of scratches, you wanted to sooth him, to hold him and let him know that everything will be okay, you didn't want to experience anything like this again, not being all alone.

Instead of your gear, you fetched your keys and started to hyperventilate.

What would you say when you see him?

What were you going to do if he hates you?

What if it's too late?

You wanted to apologize for being a coward. You wanted to tell him that you loved him. You wanted to be his again.

You hated yourself for the time you lost with him, but you would hate yourself even more if you didn't try.

You avoided the news and social media. You knew that at least the fourth part of the heroes ended up hospitalized, but you were optimistic. Your guts told you that he was safe and sound in his place, and you wanted to believe that for his (and your) own good.

The time you spent on the cab was infinite. You have done the same path at least a hundred times, but the traffic was horrible because of what happened, and the shortcuts that the drive had to take ended up being even longer.

In an hour or so, you were on the entry of his building. You were bold enough to assume that he would go to his place instead of the agency. Didn't know if that was the most clever thing to do knowing him like you do.

The man on the entry desk greeted you like you never stopped coming, and that was like a pat on the back to keep going. You made it to the elevator even though you hated closed spaces like that and used to avoid them when you were all by yourself. But you lost an hour on the way here. You weren't wasting any more time.

The bell on his door was broken, and he didn't want to fix it because it was too annoying, his words, so you knocked, one, two, three times.

The door opened, not even a minute after the third knock, and Katsuki came into sight with a towel on his hand and his hair wet. He loved to come home after a rough day and jump to his beloved shower.

"Hi" you said, short of breath.

"Hey" He greeted like he wouldn't believe like you were there.

God. This was the first time you saw it after the breakup. First time in a month, and he looked exactly the same as the day you met him.

"I took the elevator," you explained, looking back to the metal box.

"Yeah?" He looked right above you and leaned in the door frame." It didn't seem like it"

Your chest was rising and falling fast.

"Are you going to...

"I'm sorry, I'm the most stupid person you will ever meet." You interrupted him, and he stared at you trying to figure you out like you were some kind of puzzle.

Silence. He stared at you in complete silence. It was a bad idea after all.

Everybody knows him for being this mess of a person who always says what's on his mind no matter if he's being an asshole or not, no matter if he has earned some kind of trust with you, no matter if you even met him. So, being quiet like that wasn't a good omen.

You shook your head, and your right hand went straight to cover your face. You were an idiot, but you couldn't help it. At least you tried.

Your hand didn't even get to touch your face when he wrapped around his fingers and pulled you to his chest.

The warmth that you felt was immediate.

"I fucking missed this" he said lower, just for you to hear.

"I fucking missed you" you complete while your nose scrunched against his chest. The smell and softness of his t-shirt invaded your senses. "I know I can live without you but I don't want to do it anymore"

You looked up, and he was looking down to you. His lips were firmly shaped in a line, but his crimson eyes were full of hope and happiness.

"Yeah, cut that shit, you ain't going anywhere any time soon," He whispered.

You let a laugh out and noticed the little scratches he had all over his face. He noticed how your eyebrows knitted together and showed you a grin.

"Don't ruin the moment," He warned you jokingly.

"I'm sorry, man, but I will," Kirishima emerged out of nowhere and pointed at you. "THAT was manly, not like you, Bakubro, weeping all over the agency with her number on your phone screen, but too coward to hit the button, she just crossed the entire town to say that she's sorry. SHE EVEN TOOK THE ELEVATOR! Do you know how's the traffic out there? Mina is still on the cab she took thirty minutes ago, and she was just four blocks from here.

"Shut up shitty hair, no one asked your fucking opinion" He separated from you to face his friend but never let go. His arms were still on your back, tracing patterns up and down.

"It's not an opinion. It's a fact," shouted Kaminari from the room upstairs.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[the-kipsabian]

im like half an hour into this and while its very different from the first two classics, home alone 3 actually isnt half bad so far

not necessarily needing the home alone tag on it tbh, but its actually pretty nice little movie

[saltpotion]

.