#anyway; coffee and flower shop aus were rEALLY close !!

[xerotiny99]

Antiserum D // Loving Professor Jeong #1

Antiserum D (Loving Professor Jeong series #1) Professor/College au.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x (f) Reader [ft. Choi San & Song Mingi]

Warning: smut, prof!yunho, dom!yunho, sub!reader, student!reader, age gap, teasing and suggestive actions, size kink, big dick Yunho, dirty talk and pet names (master and pup), blowjob/throat fucking, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, edging, creampie and dacryphilia.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by the mentioned tags. Also note the age gap tag, here the reader is 21 and Yunho is 32, which makes it 11 years of gap.

Side Note: this series will contain 'hyung line' as the professors and the 'maknae line' as minor characters; except for Choi San and Song Mingi, these men are cheeky so look out for them. Again, as my other series, 'the reader' does have a name, i.e, Lee Sherri. Nicknames are bound to follow, so don't worry. I only write names in my oneshots because it's too annoying to write [y/n] everywhere and it ruins my flow of writing. Anyway, enjoy!

Gist: you had a rival in college, yes you did. It wasn't a student, rather the person you hold your grudges against is one of your professors. Now, you're in your senior year of bachelor's degree, running late for a morning class—knowing well he takes this class, what do you think the consequences would be?

Word Count: 12,164

 'My dog died.'

No, you don't have a pet!

'My bus was late.'

You live on-campus.

'The coffee shop was crowded.'

You don't freaking have a cup in your hand!

'Umm, I overslept.'

Well, he doesn't need to know the truth. 

He really doesn't need to know the truth to why you were running late to his morning class. As time would have it, you did oversleep; lethargic from last night's meaningless meandering from bar to bar, in search of your sober soul, you surely had forgotten about your morning class the next day. Weekends are supposed to be lax and diverting. They're your only shot at having a good time with your friends. You weren't going to let your fear of being reprimanded by your 'favourite' professor stop you from having the fun you deserved. The weekdays were long, tedious and dull with all the lectures and practical sessions to attend.

You're sprinting up the stairs to get to your department; the science building is supposedly long and encompasses all other departments falling into it. Your department (zoology), moreover, your class was situated on the second level of the building. Meeting with the long hallway on your way, which apparently was the physics department, you turn a corner and are merged with another long hallway leading to yours. The grotesque stench of formaldehyde hits your nose the moment you walk past the junior laboratories of your department; that's where they were trying to preserve biological specimens, the 'tingle-your-spine' kind. There are lecture halls and laboratories on one side of the long hallway, while the other side was an open space with concrete railings and pillars; this space opened into the botanical garden the botany department had been tending to, so it housed large trees, a decent number of shrubs and flowering plants, including a variety of cactus and other succulents. 

Rushing in your steps, holding your tote bag close to you, your eyes scramble past the open space and the garden onto the walking street of your campus; it was borne with trees on both sides, and amidst the thicket of greenery you find the main building of psychology department. You almost heave out a laugh, reminiscing of the last night when your best friend (who studies psychology) was drunk out of his mind and had been making out with a lamppost. You pull yourself out of that daze, increasing the pace of your sprint to get to your laboratory.

First red flag of your day, the doors to your lab were open wide. Second, your supposedly 'favourite' professor was midway through an explanation about the experiment you were going to perform today. And third, you were technically thirty minutes late to the lab.

Quiet on your feet, you try to sneak inside; the structure of your lab was a little different, with sitting desks on one side of it, and workbenches on the other. In retrospect, this was your senior year's class where apparent lectures took place, and the workbenches were designated for less involved experiments. At the very front of your class/lab is a podium, a chalky black board, and a desk for professor. You glance at the front after realising all students had occupied the workbenches, you catch up on the glimpse of Professor Jeong carrying on with his explanation till his eyes meet yours.

"Miss Lee," he grumbles, amidst his explanation, "sneaking in—" mumbling he checks the time on his wristwatch, the sleeve of his coat riding up, "—a total of thirty minutes late. You better have a good reason."

He folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at you. While you halt midstep into the class, standing straighter you clear your throat and feel your mind stutter looking at him. Why did he have to dress so provocatively? And the outfit in concern was his beige coat and matching pants, a white long sleeved turtleneck underneath; you didn't quite like how your heart was palpitating watching him, keenly grazing your thirst-filled eyes across his face, noticing the shine on his black rimmed glasses and the plumpness of his pink lips.

"Miss Lee?" he repeats, only to get you squeaking, "yes, professor—uh yeah, I was late because my alarm did not go off in the morning..."

He hums in contemplation, eyes narrowing on you before he sighs and shakes his head, "occupy one of the workbenches and do not touch anything before I tell you to."

You nod, pressing your lips tighter to prevent any sound from escaping your throat; you were certainly anxious and embarrassed to be late, but more precisely you were humiliated in front of your class for coming up with such a lame excuse. Sighing, you stuff your tote bag in your locker at the back. You quickly slip on a lab coat over your outfit, bubbling with disappointment as it was hiding your nubile outfit. Knowing you were running late, you still made extreme efforts to dress yourself up—the reason was quite overt, because you wanted to dress up for yourself—you wore a white blouse under a pastel blue sweater vest and paired it with grey skirt which rode up till your mid-thighs. The lacy thigh-high socks were just an added accessory to make yourself seem cute considering you also had a blue ribbon in your hair, holding it in a high ponytail.

The only workbench unoccupied is the one situated at the very end and far from either the professor's desk at the back near the lockers and the podium from where Professor Jeong was reading every movement of yours. When you get to your designated place, you glance at the workstation to take note of the apparatus, before glancing next to you, finding the most obnoxious person you could. Choi San, Choi freaking San was offering you a guileful smile, one whose intentions did not appear to be right, or even ethical.

Bastard.

"So, Miss Lee is late because she couldn't hear her alarm go off? Pathetic," he rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, his own lab coat creasing by the elbows with his plaid shirt peeking from beneath. "I don't believe you—oh well, but I wonder what your favourite professor would think about you when he knows you were getting pissed drunk last night with your friends."

You weigh his words in your mind for a second before furling back a reply. "Aww, Sannie. If you're so desperate to get in my inner circle, just say so. I didn't know you would be so jealous of us..."

San's smile turns into a curve of amusement, "jealous of you? Me? Jealous?" he scoffs, "darling, you're dreaming. If I wanted to be in your inner circle, I would've just slept my way through it."

"Really now?" you retort, smiling softly, "slept with whom?"

"An easy prey to seduce would be you—" he clicks his tongue, "—if you can be so impressed by that..." he nods his head toward Professor Jeong, "...then I believe you'd be swept off your feet if I genuinely try to."

"You put yourself on such a high pedestal, Sannie," you muse, shaking your head lightly, "do you really think my standards are set so low to be dazzled by you?" 

"Oh, only time would tell, Miss Lee," he rolls his eyes, keeping his sly smile on. "Maybe, you would get infatuated with me or give into your temptations."

"Ahh, such a dedicated wishful thinker you are," you snide, heaving a low chuckle, "the only thing I'm tempted to do is throw a chair in your fucking face—"

"Miss Lee!" you flinch in your skin, body spasming to the deep and coarse voice of the professor. Hesitant in yourself, you peek up to face him, finding him glaring at you without a twitch on his face. "You certainly are not going to pay attention to my class, then why waste my time? You're free to leave. I don't hold my students captive; the ones passionate about learning find a way to attend my class in any way they could."

Your cheeks heat up, turning a shade of faint cherry red; embarrassment licks your spine and head lowers itself, you won't forget this moment ever. San is busy staring at you, feeling a little guilty but of course he won't let you know that. Shortly after, you glance back at the professor, noticing him staring at you with his lips in a scowl and his eyes piercing through you. That alone, that look alone was enough for you to quiver in your shoes; his persona had always been the intimidating kind, the kind who is self-possessed and doesn't really bother himself with the rest of the world.

Professor Jeong wasn't fazed by anything, not even by the number of female students crushing on him in your department, rather in your class alone. He didn't acknowledge their stupefyingly sexual or overly sensual approaches, turned them down if he thought they were invading his privacy. You took that as a challenge; maybe, maybe not. Your rivalry with him wasn't because he was unapproachable or a forbidden fruit to taste, it was because he always found a way to rattle your senses and make you the fool.

You remember it as clear as a day, at the beginning of your senior year, the very first semester—attending his class on genetics, you were simply taken off by him and his way of speaking. His personality was homely, strict where it should be, however. Amidst his lecture, he caught you talking and joking around with your bench-mate and questioned you about the topic he was teaching.

"If you can yap useless things, then why don't you enlighten me with the working of gel electrophoresis, hmmm...?"

It stung. But not more than him adding, "I'm even surprised you could answer. Maybe you should focus yourself more on your academics than other things."

Other things? You realised he was making comments on your appearance, the way you were dressed, the way you had streaks of gold stitched in your hair, the way you always had playful make up on—he judged you based on that, and thus the profound feud between him and you began. After that, you would intentionally skip his classes and not make an effort to attend them; even the practical sessions, except for the mandatory ones where you would bite your tongue and listen to him demeaning your entire existence for not setting the microscope right.

"Alright, now that I'm done explaining the principle and bits of the procedure, you may follow the same with your partners; if you're muddled with any concern then heed my name." He announces out loud, stepping down from the podium.

You raise your head, further listening to his footsteps dither across the floor to the back of where another table had been put up for teachers' comfort. Though, that's what you thought. The mellow sound of his boots takes an unassuming turn to your row of workbenches, taking you off guard. You're trying to find the meaning behind his detour. Also, you had been oblivious from the start that this practical is supposed to be performed in pairs. And you had no one. Because you were late. Even the slow-witted and stolid transfer student, Reagan Keith had a partner; and her partner was San himself, something you definitely did not see coming.

"Miss Lee," Professor Jeong clears his throat, standing next to you, "I suppose you do not have a partner because of your tardiness, and I happened to pair all my students prior to you, which leaves me no choice but to perform this particular experiment with you. So now, take a brief look at the blackboard and what I've etched on it, try to understand it. Once done, we can surely proceed."

You nod, contemplating, biting your cheek, unable to comprehend the proximity between you two. The dense musk of his scent is wafting all your senses—the redolent scent of vanilla and cinnamon is a deadly concoction to drive you wild. His warmth is superficial, yet the kind which melts your mind with stupefying possibilities, just how he could be—you need to keep your thoughts clean and chaste. Still, you suppress your mind to a corner and peek at the blackboard, studying his neat hand etched on it. The title gave you the rough idea of what you're supposed to do. 

'Determination of blood groups.'

Ahh, the title itself foretells the coming inevitable mishap is going to involve blood and blood lancets; you aren't so fond of the needles—no, it wasn't a phobia, you weren't fond of pricking yourself with the help of those lancets. The blue rounded capsules which compassed a sterile needle underneath was beyond torturous to you.

You heave out a deep breath, understanding the further procedure he had inscribed on the blackboard. Familiar with few terms, such as the usage of antiserums, and principle behind the entire procedure, you were relieved. Way more than relieved to know this wasn't something out of your expertise. The nurturing thought of you actually explaining it to him however was too heavy to bear. You clear your throat, fumbling in your words as you dart your eyes anywhere else but at him.

"Yes, Miss Lee, are you done gandering at the procedure?" he gawks, bewildered as if and continues, "now, please enlighten me with the steps so as to we can proceed with the experiment."

"We—we are determining the blood—blood groups," you stutter, not knowing where that came from, you turn your attention onto him, stifling a gasp upon noticing him leaning close to you.

"Go on, Miss Lee," he prompts you with a soft nudge of his head. "I'm sure having to palaver about for the entire day, you could at least narrate the steps to me. All I need is your guidance."

He's playing you again.

"Alright, I will—" your breath hitches in your throat—you witness him effortlessly shrug his coat off, revealing nothing of his skin but the long-sleeved turtleneck he wore under.

"Hmhm, yes...?" he instigates, putting his coat off to a side while he rolls the sleeves of shirt over till his elbows. "What's the first step?"

"Sterilisation." you mutter under your breath.

"Sterilisation of what, Miss Lee?" he teases, keeping a straight; his pushes his glasses further up his nose, which had apparently slipped off a bit.

"Sterilisation of the subject area."

"Okay, tell me which area is most suitable for this test?"

You nod, swallowing thickly as your eyes never leave his. "The tip of the middle finger."

You weren't going to waver, not even when his soft brown eyes were speaking the unbearable at the moment; how can he do that? How can he momentarily torment you with a sly curve of his lips or by the detrimental facade of his eyes?

"And why is that?"

"Tendon sheath—uh, the middle finger has tendon sheath which only limits it to the fingers; as for the thumb and pinky finger, the sheath extends a little further to radial bursae and ulnar bursae—so in case any infection occurs it'll be restricted to the middle finger unlike the thumb or pinky which can lead to the heart." You try your best to explain, forgetting how to breathe in the process.

"You know your stuff," he murmurs, his voice low and cold, "do you see any sterilisation pads on your table?"

Looking around your desk, almost immediately, your eyes lurk on a beaker full of 70% ethanol and cotton swabs. You bring the beaker close to you and reach out for the forceps placed next to it; extending the beaker toward to him, you clear your throat, hoping he'd get on the cue.

"Miss Lee, I'd very much appreciate if you were to perform all the steps involving this practical."

"Right—okay, so..."

You drag your words into a whisper, holding the palm of his hand in yours, while other picks out a cotton swab with the forceps. The piece of cotton rolls to and fro on his skin, rubbing gently. Hearing him wince at the cooling sensation of ethanol against his skin, you stifle a chuckle and let out a sigh; once you were done with sterilising, you reach out for the blood lancets. Picking out one, you rip the cap off to reveal a sterling needle shining with a sharp point.

"Have you done this before, Miss Lee?" he questions as he watches you hesitate with the blood lancet. "Pricking yourself is quite different from pricking others, isn't it?"

You nod because you knew how different it was. In actuality, you're scared. You always were terrified to prick yourself with the needle whenever you were required to and it was mostly during your practical classes involving forensics. The high possibility of piercing your professor's skin, past the point till where it's necessary, was an untold fear you couldn't overcome. But, as you glance up at his docile face adorning an encouraging smile, in addition to the haughty glint in his eyes, you are much more prepared for the consequences.

"I am absolutely terrified when it comes to pricking myself—what if I..." your glance at his hand, then dart your eyes to his, feeling a breath hitch in your throat.

"You won't hurt me," he reassures you, later on compelling you with his words, "any day now, Miss Lee."

The racking nerve in your head forces you to take a deep breath and you're hauling the pointed tip of the lancet close to his finger. You know it takes one sudden nick to break the skin, and you also know you're supposed to be careful and swift with it. Hesitation breaks your conscience, you're still in two minds, still wondering if this was a good idea. Regardless of your abrupt cold feet, you let the lancet pierce through his skin, drawing out a ceaseless stream of blood; Professor Jeong is heedful of his bleeding finger and proceeds to make three blobs of blood on a microscope slide.

He puts the slide back, the glass clinks against the table but it melts into your thoughts—you were ogling him. You notice his veiny hand trembling softly to the unbridled tremors from the cut on his finger, it was attractive. You wouldn't mind admitting it, he has great hands—and sadly, you had a fetish. Trapping your lower lip between your teeth, you admire the little things about him; the proximity faltered to nothing, gave away how spotless his skin was, how sublimely luscious his lips were, and how the tiny specks of green in his eyes were far too evident in the sea of umber. Though, his hands were all you could think about; his porcelain skin, the bulging veins wrapped around his knuckles while they branched further down his hand—uff.

"Miss Lee?" he calls out, snapping his other finger, "please pass me a cotton swab, I need to clean myself."

You were brought back to the reality, seamless kind, a little vapid where you were impelled to keep a safe and healthy 'professor-student' relationship with him.

Hold up!

Where in the world did that come from?

The thought of having something more than 'professor-student' relationship with him.

You and him?

That's a little...

Far-fetched.

Unless...

There was...

There was a way to vex him.

You look back to all the times he's devalued your existence during his classes. The haughty remarks which rolled off his tongue with so much ease to belittle your short-lived efforts in any of his class, or perhaps, in any of the activities your department would plan. A spark in your mind strikes you in a way you couldn't quite explain, but you know you're finding yourself tighten your grip on his wrist. It's oddly satisfying, it's benign in your mind—though, the tiny bulb of tease was going on and off every second you spent staring at him.

There goes nothing.

Without hesitating you bring his hand close to your mouth, your tongue darts out the minute his bleeding finger finds its way in your sight, and you lick up a stripe to clean the blood off his finger. You hear him gasp, a sharp intake of breath which already told you he was bothered by your actions. Continuing to the rhythm of your heart, you wrap your lips around the tip of his finger and give it a soft suckle. Soon, a metallic copper taste slides on your tongue. Such an eerie sight to witness, by your professors and the others too. Especially the spawn of devil who was too busy charming the ditzy transfer student off her feet; if San catches you being this 'type' of friendly with the professor you 'slightly' resent then you probably could never show your face to anyone on the surface of earth. Luckily, San wasn't even sparing a glance at you.

"Miss—Miss Lee?" his voice breaks when he calls out to you again, prompting you to loosen your grip on his hand before you're letting it drop to his side.

"You were supposed to add antiserums to the slide, drop by drop. Now..." he takes a deep breath, noticing your glossy eyes and your plump lips parted; he's definitely resisting his urges. "The blood on the slide is almost..." He glances down at the table. "...it's almost dry. Miss Lee—" he leans in close to your ear, a coarse whisper sending a shiver down your spine, "—I'd like to see you after class."

"Maybe you can justify your actions then."

He leans back and takes a short gander around. Curling his lips up in a riveting smile, he nudges you with a nod. "Add the antiserums now, Miss Lee. All the others have finished performing the experiment."

You're out of your daze, rummaging your eyes around to find many of your classmates are done with their work and had gone to the other side of the lab, where the desks were.

"I'll be checking your practical sheets before you leave, so make sure you complete them all now." he announces out loud in the class, earning muffled groans from his students. "And no excuses."

"You too, Miss Lee," he turns to you, "now, if you will, you have to tell me my blood group. So, go on."

Again, pulling yourself out of the stupor, you nod profusely and proceed to the next step before the blood on your slide is completely dry. You add a drop of each antiserum on the three droplets of blood; waiting for a second, you watch the drop with antisera D and antisera A added begin to clot. To your conclusion, Professor Jeong's blood group is A+ve. All while you did the experiment, his eyes were fixed on you, fixated on your quivering hands and lips every time you tried to do something. In some instances of his mind, he was admiring you and your dedication, and how badly he had rocked your boat into capsizing.

"Good," he muses, his words turning bitter soon, "you sure can do a few things right. Well, all that's left to do is—" he grunts softly as he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back down, while he shrugs on his coat, "—cleaning and writing. Chop chop, Miss Lee.  And do not forget you have to wait after class."

With those spine-chilling words he leaves you stranded to your spot; unfortunately, this time San had overheard your conversation. He slides next to you, eyeing your workstation before glancing over at you.

His lips push themselves out into a pout, and he grumbles, "fucked up something?"

"None of your business," you grit your teeth, "get away before I chop your balls off."

"Oh, I'm shivering," he deadpans, nudging his elbow with your ribs, "come on, Lee. Tell me. What did you do for him to ask you to wait after class? We both know he's never done it—in fact he hates it when someone waits after class to 'talk' to him." he emphasises with finger quotes, rolling his eyes at you. "You fucked up big time then."

You heave out a long sigh, "I—just, shut up, San. You're the most annoying person in my life."

Grumbling, you glance at Professor Jeong, he was sitting on his desk at the back of the class, by the lockers. His stare was on you. It was on you from the moment he sat down. And even though you may not know what he was thinking, or wondering about, the glimpse of him having his teeth scratching on his lower lip was enough to let you know what exactly he intended on doing with you.

"Don't drag it out on me," he mumbles, his pout still intact on his face, "although, you're denying the truth, which means you two had an anomalous interaction..."

As he trails off, you roll your eyes at him. Finding the courage to break your eye contact with Professor Jeong, you glare at San and bite your lip. "Yeah, he made me wait after class. It's pertaining to me being late. Now off you go, make yourself useful elsewhere. Maybe, help Reagan find the remaining of her skirt, pretty sure she left it back at her dorms."  

San muses for a second before leaning over to stare at the said girl's skirt; she was standing by the lockers chattering with someone. His face twitches smugly, his brows creasing as he checks her out.

"Oh, no no! That does seem more important than dealing with you, Lee." he smirks, biting his lower lip, "see you around, try not to get too infatuated with your favourite professor."

Sauntering away from you, he loses his lab coat and then engages himself with Reagan. You project your frustrations into a sigh and begin cleaning your workbench before heading to the lockers to retrieve your bag and other items. Walking past the professor was a challenge in itself because you were too fazed in your mind by everything he did. Though, you could really say you were fuddled over his decision to make you wait after class. Anyone could tell you exactly how much he despised his students waiting after class, 'cause most of the times it would be the absurd number of female students trying to confess their feelings for him. You could sympathise with him, understand where he was coming from because you would find yourself in a similar situation; you were well sought to in your department, endless confessions, profuse gestures of affection, what not.

Regardless, you realised what you wanted in a man. It was the professor himself.

"Miss Lee, I need your practical journal completed." he speaks up as you're walking past his desk with your tote bag on your shoulder and your lab coat neatly folded in your hands. "You know what, I'll go through it after class. Till then, get your write-ups done."

Offering you a redolent smile, he tears his eyes off you. You swallow thickly, knowing well how ineptly stuck you were with him, after class too. And one more fact, your practical journal was incomplete—blank at the most, which was a catastrophe in the waiting. As the fear creeps up your spine, you bite your cheek and stumble onto an empty desk, settling yourself down to catch a breath.

Time passes in a haste, without bounds, and soon the moment you dreaded arrives with a tinkering bell on it. The class is empty, except for you and Professor Jeong. You could listen to him breathe, placidly whistle out a grumble a few times since he was busy with something you didn't feel the need to pay attention to. The clock on the wall ticks again and you're gathering your stuff before 'sneaking' out of the class. If his attention is solely saturated over something useless to you, then he probably won't even notice you gone.

At least that's what you thought.

"Miss Lee, I must remind you of our little parley where I asked you to wait after class." He doesn't even peek from the file he was reading, and continues, "don't think I can't see you sneaking away."

You stop in your steps, right in front of the open door with a few students lurking behind in the corridor. Stifling a groan, you roll your eyes and turn around on your feet. The man is sat poised in his chair, his lips curved in a smirk as he's staring right through you. Your heart skips a beat, yes too cliche, but you felt its arrhythmic vibrations ring your ears.

"Are there any students loitering in the corridor?" he questions and you nod to it, pressing your lips together. "Wait for them to leave and then lock the doors."

Why?

Lock the doors?

Why lock the doors?

Now your heart was pounding in that bony little cage of yours. Sooner or later, you would find it either in your throat or your guts that is if he continues to stare at you with the intensity of sun. Quite lost in the trance of his melancholic yet concupiscent eyes, you start nibbling on your lower lip, wanting to squeeze your thighs together to rid yourself of the tension you felt in your cunt. The chatters start dithering outside, ascending to the wind of nothing and it brings peace to your mind; not that it wasn't peaceful before, but now, it's just you and him caught in a void of infatuation.

"Do not take my intentions in the wrong way, Miss Lee. I am not so fond of disturbances during one-on-one student session..." he explains, going back to reading his file. Though, after a while he clears his throat and prompts you, "any moment now, Miss Lee."

"Yea—yeah," you stutter, sensing your throat close up.

Taking a step forward you close the latches on the door. The exhilaration of you being alone with him is sort of distorted in your head when you make your way towards his desk. What does he have in his mind? What does he want from you? Is this one of his many ways to make you feel small and little? Like all the times he does when you're attending his classes or so.

The look in his eyes has a spark of joy, just humming across the field of brown containing his pep. Those same eyes follow you around, till you're in front of him; his face shows no emotion, except for that straight line of his lips.

"Would you need an invitation, Miss Lee? Your binder, please." he asks, peeking up at through his long lashes and the black rimmed glasses. The glare on them makes it hard for you to read his eyes this time.

You clear your throat, and fumble with your bag to take the thick binder out. Pages furled out of it, a few flying off to fall on the ground, while a few remained stuck in amidst the others; you could tell Professor Jeong wasn't too happy with the condition of your binder. To be fair, this binder was your repository for all performed experiments so far. Nonetheless, your binder was...incomplete. Biting your lip, you place your binder on the table in front of him.

He eyes it for a moment before grabbing it in his hands and flipping the pages. You couldn't resist holding him on a high regard; his sleek fingers pinching the edges of the pages, turning them, eyes rummaging along the lines, and his parted lips which could tell he was contemplating.

"I certainly did not expect this from you, Miss Lee." he clicks his tongue, "now that I see it for myself, I can't help but agree with my initial remark about you. I would suggest you focus more on your academics rather than wasting your time with your friends and ambling through your life."

He sighs in defeat, mostly disappointment and slides your binder towards you across the table. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath and turns his head to you, his face expressing nothing at all.

"Life's not all about strolling through one club then to another. And while you do that, I can't sit back and watch you ruin your potential, Miss Lee," he sucks his teeth, as he continues to berate you with his words, "you're in the running for most proficient student in our department, alongside Mr. Choi. Now, would you be delighted to bear a consequence where he holds the trophy and not you? All because of what...? Some fiddling people you call your friends whose only job is to drag you out to buzzing clubs and what not."

Listening to him hound your existence, your heart suddenly weighs down in your chest, it grows heavy till it touches your gut. Oh no, you were letting it affect your state of mind. On the verge of tears, you look away from him and fixate your blurry vision on the floor; it was overbearing to hold his eyes, to wallow in the disappointment he held in them. Moreover, you didn't want him to see you cry, or shed a tear for that matter because you know you were close. Very close.

You sniffle softly, lowering your head furthermore to avoid to his gaze.

"Miss Lee?"

Silence.

You don't care for the concern his voice shows and continue to toil yourself on the contrasting hue of morning sun and the grey tiles. Blurry vision captures the indefinite shadows of lockers, some bookshelves—the sun was crawling overhead, witnessing your derision with your professor. You don't try to pay him any mind, not that you could even if you wanted to. There's a possible reason to why you don't want to, maybe the answer lies in your uncertain infatuation with him, or maybe it does prove your outlandish feelings for him. Which one of it was genuine?

A small moment passes between you two, roiling in tranquil haze before he clicks his tongue and drawls on a breath. "And to speak on your furtive behaviour—"

"Why do you hate me?"

A beat of serenity yanks his attention.

"What do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"I asked, why do you hate me so much?"

You glance up at him, preparing your unfazed mind for his reaction to your reddened cheeks and nose, and the obvious streaks of tears down your cheeks. The muscles on his face twitch even if it was indiscernible to the moment, you study him; he reveals a speck of pity in his eyes, so pathetic for you to think he'd pity you.

"Sherri?"

His lips quiver so delicately, calling out your name in a sleek yet coarse voice. It was the first time he'd ever called out your name, enunciated each syllable in his utmost trepidation as if he really cared for you. That alone was enough to cause a havoc in your heart, dwindling it further down to your...maybe it was the way he spoke your name out, but you were definitely feeling a spark strike in your pussy.

"I do not despise you, Sherri," he softly murmurs, looking away from you for a long minute before trailing his pitiful eyes back on you. "If my actions have made you—"

"—you always belittle me, humiliate me in front of the class and pretend to act as if you do it all because you care." you ramble, "you don't care about my feelings! All you can think is how to make me fall from my grace. Isn't it?"

You shake your head and bring your hands up to wipe your tears off, which had uncontrollably gushed out of your eyes while you had your meltdown. Your tote bag falls onto the floor with a soft thud, and you pay no mind to it. The hyperventilation soon kicks in, suffocating your lungs with a want to break free from your chest, and your stomach littered with unwanted butterflies fluttering along. More tears slide out of your eyes, and you lose your capability to see clearer.

The dainty streaks of torment on your cheeks, your tears, and your flushed face was a huge turn on for him; he could not probably free himself from his fetish, but his philia for tears or anything remotely close to it, always excited his cock. He shifts in his seat, spreading his legs apart under the desk to free himself from the strain in his pants. Oh how badly he had been aroused, by just watching you cry.

"Sherri, you're mistaking my concern for bullying; fuck! Why would I want to torment or humiliate you in front of the class?" he questions, such dainty voice breaking your heart and making you feel pathetic to sob in front of him.

"Come here."

He lures you in with his soft voice, and a frail tug of his lips; his smile had already proved to be devastating to you and even the slightest of it can make you, his puppet. Without realising it, you're taking short strides around the table to be by his side. He has his hand extended in front of you, something you didn't quite understand until you hold it in hesitation, and he pulls you down on his lap.

You gasp, and then yelp when you land on his lap; at first you find yourself uncomfortable in his embrace but giving it a little time, you relax and settle down, still with a bit of unease. His arms wrap themselves around your waist and he leans close to rest his chin on your shoulder as you sit sideways on his lap. Ambiguous swirls of darkness cover his eyes, and your breath hitches trying to unravel his true intentions. Instead, you were starting to get comfortable with him.

"I do not resent you for who you are, Sherri," he begins with a whispery breath, rubbing your back as he does. "I resent myself for being so helplessly bound under your spell."

Your lips part open, your chest heaves up and down erratically to constrain your wildly pounding heart. Oh, you were gone, you most definitely were.

"Projecting my bitter disposition on you was a mechanism I sought to cope my untamed desire—the ugly desire to taste this forbidden fruit." Mumbling, he turns his head and traces his lips along your neck, kissing and sucking. "Holy fuck, this body of yours...those lips, you don't know how much I crave them."

His hands tighten around your waist, and you gasp for air, "Professor Jeong, this isn't ethical. You're violating the university policy...ah!"

He bites down on your neck, grabbing enough flesh in between his teeth to suck on it. That's going to leave a pretty purple bruise behind, all in its glory, on your neck—so fucking attractive to you.  Pressing down on a moan, you drag your hands to his shoulders, hoping to shove him off to disturb his grip on you. Though you thought. It wasn't easy to make him budge, he wasn't letting you go, and you were gradually falling into that realisation.

"I could lose my job," he whispers, chuckling softly, "I can fucking lose my job if I engage with you, if I make my vile thoughts a reality but I can't control myself any longer, I need you, I need to ruin you—I know you feel the same way about me. Don't you, Sherri?" he nibbles on your earlobe, his hot breath fanning your ear. "Aren't your intentions the same as me, huh?"

"No." you mumble.

"No?"

You shake your head.

He doesn't believe you.

"Sherri, oh you beautiful liar," he sighs, his lips now curling into a smirk, "didn't you think of something else when you were sucking my finger off, hmm?"

You pout, not wanting to answer or have him the satisfaction of being right; instead, you start shuffling on his lap to get out of his hold. Squirming in his lap, you press your butt against his crotch, accidentally touching his hardened cock. It continues to poke your ass, and his fingers dig into your skin when his hold tightens on your waist. You were making it worse, it was visible on his face in the form of quivering lips and shut eyes.

"Don't move...!" he warns you, pressing your lower body against his lap, keeping you fixed in one place. "You'll make me...fuck. You do this on purpose, don't you?"

You stop moving—well you had no choice but to when his brute strength was holding you down against him. "I don't. I haven't done anything on purpose."

Lying is so easy. But him believing it has to be easy too. Though at this point you knew you were teasing him.

"Sherri, don't lie." He peels his eyes open and takes a sharp breath in, "get on your knees."

You gulp. Knees? He wants you on your knees...? That's...really fucking hot.

Eagerly, you crawl out of his lap as he gives you the chance to, keeping his hands to his side. He repositions his chair in a way to face you, as you're kneeling down in front of him, by the side of the table. There's not much distance between you, and the dithered proximity makes your heart palpitate with anticipation.

What was he going to do?

Your mind raced with the possibilities. Was he going to shove his 'obvious' boner down your throat? Was he going to make you ride him? What was his hauntingly beautiful mind thinking about?

"An obedient teacher's pet, how adorable," he coos, stroking his hand over your head as if to pet you.

"Professor..."

"Shush...!" he leans over, closely watching you with his fervent eyes. Out of nowhere the warmth of his thumb engulfs of your cheek. "Not a sound."

Brushing his thumb across, he collects a drop of your tear and brings it close to his mouth. He wraps his lips around his thumb and gives it a good suck; his eyes intently fixed on yours, delineating his intentions. You nod your head and watch him straighten his back to relax against the chair. His eyes glance over at the door for a minor second before he fixes them back on you; with a lilting smirk, he grabs the wooden pointer stick from his table and slaps its tip on the palm of his other hand. The same hand rubs along the length of it until his forefinger traces the tip before holding it in his one hand.

You couldn't help but gulp again, feeling aroused by his hand, and the way it was pumping the stick to and fro. Lowering yourself on your calves, you try to squeeze your thighs together. You wanted to ease your muscles, wanted to rid yourself of the tightness in your cunt because you were beyond wet for him.

"Hands behind your back," he commands, and you oblige without hesitation. "I asked you to be on your knees for me..." he softly mutters, tapping the stick twice on the floor to get you back on your knees.

You do that too; completely unaware of his next move. He drags the stick from the ground to you, to the hem of your skirt and lifts it up—exposing your ruined panties to him.

"Tsk, wet already?" he heaves out a breath, "do I really affect you that much?"

"Yes," you swallow and mumble, "you do."

"Hmm," he muses, humming his words along later, "that makes me want you even more."

With his other hand he takes his glasses off and flings them on the table. He pushes the stick further up till your waist to completely expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt; he licks his lips at the sight, his instincts running wild in his mind. Your hands were perfectly slotted in the small of your back, tightly wound together to appease the tension.

"Ah..fuck," you groan when you feel the wooden stick rub your cunt; he had angled it in such a way that it kept your skirt from falling down and it also gave him enough access to drag it along your slit. "Please, professor, I want you."

Listening to you mewl, his smirk widens, and he slurs his words, "now you want me, Miss Lee? Un-fucking-believable."

He picks up his pace, letting the stick rub itself perfectly against your slit; your cunt clenches around nothing, aching to have something in between, something to fill you up. You writhe in desperation, shifting your weight from one leg to another. Unable to contain yourself, you start grinding yourself against the stick, upon noticing it, he halts his movements and watches you with amusement. Casing his lips into a pout, he traces his forefinger on his lower lip; he's contemplating, mirthfully watching you pleasure yourself on the stick. You bring both of your hands to the front, holding the stick to stabilise it before you increase the pace of hips grinding down.

"Aww, is my little brat getting excited?" he scoffs, shaking his head lightly.

You press your lips together and nod your head, closing your eyes shut to the budding pleasure crawling up your body. Second by second, your sanity shrinks to nothing, making you loosen your grip on the stick. From the corner of your half-lidded eye, you watch him offer you a conceited smile, clearing his intentions out when he pulls the stick from between your legs and slides it up to your chin. Tapping its tip twice to your chin, he gets your attention on him with your eyes wide in anticipation.

He spreads his legs wider in front of you, putting his cock on a glorious display as it tightens in his pants; the outline of his cock figuratively makes you swallow a thick gulp of air. Keeping your head high with the stick, he uses his other hand to palm his crotch, gently wrapping his fingers around his cock to give it a few half-hearted pumps through his pants. With a nudge of his head, he drops the stick to a side and gestures you to come close. Biting your tongue, you crawl towards him, your heart in your throat now. Maybe it was the anticipation, the eagerness to see him bare and under the griming influence of your pleasure, but you were slightly alarmed to find yourself slotted in between his legs.

"Let's get my brat what she wants," he whispers further shifting comfortably in his hair. "Such hungry eyes gawking at the sight of my cock," he grabs your jaw lightly and strokes his thumb under your chin. He tuts, "I get these looks a lot but there's something about you— something about the way you're drooling over my cock."

You let your teeth sink deep in your lower lip, while your lips twitch into a soft smile of amusement. "Am I turning you on, professor?"

You release your lip from your teeth's grip, and he watches it wobble in a daze while you lean close and place your hands on either of his thighs. Rubbing circles with your fingertips on his thighs, you take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"If that wasn't the case you wouldn't be here, Miss Lee. Kneeling between my legs, ready to take my cock in your mouth, hmm?" he suggestively murmurs, dragging his thumb to your lips till he forces it in your mouth. "Now, open wide."

Using his other hand, he fumbles with the buckle of his belt. While he does manage to get it undone, you decide to suck on his thumb which was still fixed in your mouth; you lick around, blatantly ignoring his rugged skin. You hear him grunt ever so gently to your mouth wrapped around his thumb, tingling with excitement to know what it would be like to have this same warmth around his cock. Everything passes in a haze when he restlessly tugs down on his pants and briefs at the same time; you notice him take his thumb out of his mouth and instead he replaces it with his cock.

The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your lips and you open wide, lowering yourself down on his cock—though, only halfway considering his length would take you long to adjust to while the thick girth already made the corners of your mouth sting. He holds your neck, his fingers delicately splayed on the nape as he pushes you down, however he's mindful of you and how much you can take in. You start stroking the remaining of his shaft—which you would eventually have to swallow deep in your mouth.

"Fuck, you're driving me insane with your mouth, I might..." he trails his words off into a low groan, beginning to thrust himself into your mouth. "I'm not going to last long, am I?"

He taunts, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushes your head further down on his cock; his thrusts become too sloppy, and you don't pay much mind to it. You are too focused on widening your mouth around his cock to fit him fully inside. Feeling the tip of his cock brush against your throat, you almost gag; your throat tightens, and the suffocation starts sneaking up on you, but you push yourself through and sink lower on his cock.

"Fuck, such a good brat, taking me in so well," he whimpers coarsely, "but this little brat needs to be punished for making me break my rules."

You gaze up at him with your teary eyes, softening them as he looks down at you too. Nodding your head, you hollow your cheeks and bop your head up and down after adjusting to his size. Your fingers dig into his fleshy thighs, constraining your moans with his cock stuffed in your mouth, you keep staring up at him till a few drops of tears cascade down your cheeks. He brings his other hand to caress your cheeks, thumb stroking off the tears as he doesn't let go of your head. You're on the verge of gagging on his cock, choking even, but disregarding your gag reflex, he bucks his hips into your face and his cock slides further down your throat. Unable to hold onto your moans and whimpers, you try to make a sound—the vibrations send him reeling from pleasure, he throws his head back and tightens his hold on your neck.

"Can't make a sound because my cock is—your mouth is stuffed with my cock, isn't it?" he teases, closing his eyes shut to relish the wetness and warmth of your mouth. "Don't worry—I won't—I won't cum too soon. My brat deserves a little—a little bit of fun even if she's being pun—punished."

His stutter was absolutely beautiful, it showed how much of a mess he was with your mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfed in the devious warmth of it. Somehow, it gave you a sense of victory, a sense of peace to know you had gotten him on his edge with only your mouth and nothing else. The saltiness of his precum floods your mouth—it makes you retch a bit regardless of that, you continue sucking him off while his thrusts are slow and steady. In the meantime, he pulls his untucked shirt above till his chest and holds it there; he pushes your head further down on his cock, till your nose is pressed against his pubic bone and your skin feels ticklish from his trimmed pubic hair.

His chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate; he surely was a mess, and you liked seeing it. When you peek up at him with your still-teary eyes, you notice sweat covering his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin while his cheeks are flushed with a shade of red. How adorable. How fucking adorable. The ever so haughty and stoic professor was writhing under your touches, with how you lapped your tongue under his shaft and purposely sucked your cheeks in to make it tight.

In actuality, you were really driving him wild; his grip on your neck loosens a bit for a hot second and he uses that time to let his hand entangle in your hair. You didn't realise when you groped his thighs for support, even so, your nails had dug deep enough to leave behind crescent marks on his skin, the kind which would fluster with a brutal purple tint tomorrow. Grasping a proper hold on your hair, he pulls you back and frees his cock from his mouth; a vile 'pop' sound resounds in the room while he does so.

The moment his cock is out of your mouth, you gasp for air, you swallow huge lugs of air through your mouth and glance at him with dazed eyes. His thick and veiny cock was slick with your spit, shining softly under the lights while a few strings of your saliva still connected your lips and his shaft. Your drool had covered every inch of his cock and had also slithered down your chin. The sensation in your mouth was a little sticky and salty from his precum. You keep your mouth wide open and wipe off the drool using the back of your hand; he smugly chuckles, eyes on you like a predator.

"Need to take a break?" he taunts you, belittling your presence and you shake your head to a no. Leaning over, he cups your face in both of his hands and grazes his eyes along your chest and exposed thighs.

"Get up."

Again, his domineering voice forces you to oblige, and you get on your wobbly feet—feeling your throat sore and tight from his cock hitting constantly, you swallow enough amount of spit and try to wash the sting down. He notices it but doesn't say much. His hands slide down from your face and hold your waist as you stand in front him; without any doubt, he pushes your front against the desk and makes you bend over. One hand on the collar of your blouse, and other on the small of your back; he keeps you in that position while he takes his time to shimmy his pants and briefs down till his knees. He positions himself behind you, managing to push your skirt up on your back to expose your dripping wet panties and your cunt. Your wet panties were driving him wild; his breathing becomes even more ragged when he snaps at the waistband and pulls them down to your knees. He swallows thickly when his thirsty eyes lurk over your glistening wet cunt, clenching around nothing for the time being.

"This wet cunt is going to take in every inch of me...fuck," he curses his under his breath while he smoothens his hand on one of your buttcheeks. "But we can't forget about your punishment, can we?"

He flattens his palm against your ass, keeping you pressed against the desk with his hand on your neck; you whimper in anticipation and hold onto the edge of the desk till your knuckles turn while. Anticipation makes you wiggle your ass slightly, as you're on your tippy toes and perfectly bent over the desk.

"No, we can't," you heave out a shaky sigh, not able to control your excitement anymore. "How are you going to punish me, professor?"

You sneer in your seductive voice, slurring your words against your rounded lips to get a reaction out of him. Having your vision limited to the empty classroom and the workbenches, the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do, makes you even wetter.

Yunho knows how vile your mind is, he knows the wet patch on your panties continues to grow the more he teases you and honestly, he wasn't complaining. He liked it as much as you did, but he hid it well in his composed speech and relaxed movements.

"There's only one way to punish a brat like you," he grunts, slapping one of your buttcheeks, "count them."

So, you were getting spanked. Such a fitting punishment for a brat like you, by a professor too—why did it feel like you were trapped in a low-budget student-professor porn movie? You can't complain anyway, you were absolutely absorbed in the trance of your pleasure and his hands caressing your butt.

You nod and thus begins the punishment.

Slap!

"One," you mewl, feeling his hand burn on your skin.

Slap!

"Two," your breath hitches when you go to say it out loud, your skin stinging from his hand.

Slap!

"Thr—three!" you groan out loudly, the impact jolting your body against the top of the desk.

This one stung like a bitch.

Slap!

Without any warning, he adds one more spank to the same buttcheek before moving onto the other. He offers it a soft squeeze first, and then pulls his hand back and flattens his palm over it.

Slap!

"How many were those, huh?" he asks your mind fiddles with the remaining brain cells—how many were those? Really. How many?

"Si—six," you somehow manage to sputter, your spit falling on the desk in front of you.

"Good girl," he praises, rubbing his hand on your buttcheek before tracing it down to your folds. His fingers press and nudge against your folds until he rams one finger along your slit. Pushing down, wedging his finger deep inside, he watches your juices coat the length of his finger before he brings it to his nose to give it a good sniff. "I wonder if you're enjoying this punishment, pup. Are you? Are you enjoying this punishment...?"

First, your mind goes haywire when he teases you with that nickname. Pup. Well, you were turning out to be his pet, you might as well roll along with it.

Second, you were certainly enjoying the punishment, liking the way his hands were able to engulf your entire buttcheek at once.

Third, you're forced to slip out of your sanity when he aligns his cock with your hole and slowly sinks in. Your aroused juices proved helpful for him to slip right in. You suddenly start feeling full, the stretch of your walls subsiding into a soothing ache and then it sublimes completely into pleasure. Your desires were getting quenched; inch by inch your cunt swallows him whole, the burn on your walls now pacified by him. He doesn't move when he bottoms out, he keeps his cock sucked deep in you. Keeping one hand on the small of his back, he pushes your nimble body further against the desk—your back arches inwards and prodding your ass out for his easy access. 

"Fuck, such a tight cunt. Got no one to loosen it out, Miss Lee?" he smirks, grunting at the way your walls clenched around him and remains unmoving. "Don't worry, I'll fuck it loose—fuck," you tighten around him listening to his wispy words, "do you want me to, huh, pup? Do you want me to fuck you loose?"

"Yeah—yeah, yeah I'd like that," you murmur, your brain turned into a mush and your body shuddering as he slowly, very slowly, starts moving. He doesn't pull out completely, he keeps his cock buried deep in you and slides in and out at a leisure pace.

"Of course, my pup would like to get fucked senseless," he mumbles, slapping one of your buttcheeks again.

You were fully sure his hand was now printed on your skin in a bright red shade; the soreness didn't matter because the thrill was eating you up and turning it into bliss. Biting back a moan, you keep your breathing steady. Though, you feel your chest shatter entirely when he picks up his pace. Your fingernails start scratching at the varnish on the table, a bit of it getting stuck in them.

"Yes, prof—professor..." you groan, stuttering with his thrusts.

"Nuh-huh, for an obedient puppy like you, I'm your master," he slides his cock out, and rams back into you, letting it plunge deep, "what should you—should you call me, pup?"

"Master," you breathe out, exasperated. "Master, please go faster, fuck! Fuck me harder please, breed your little pup." You cry, genuinely letting tears streak down your cheeks; you were weak already, holding out till he would increase the rhythm of his merciless thrusts.

Something goes off in his head, his hips start snapping at an animalistic pace with your body thrashing against the wooden desk; his hands are all over you, touching you, caressing you, leaving his marks on you. Though, at a point he brings one of his hands to the curve of your back, while his other hand winds itself around your thigh. Seeming seconds drag on with his thrusts curt and sharp, his cock reaching deep in your cunt till you could feel it tauten in the pit of your stomach. Yunho could sense your walls clench around his cock, not liking it one bit—his thrusts start faltering, gradually coming to a halt.

Still buried deep in you, he leans over your back—inching close to your neck, he bites down harshly before whispering, "does my pup want to cum?"

You could discern the slyness in his voice, and you nod your head with your mouth agape, drool glistening down your lower lip and staining your chin. Bearing his size, tuning with his blunt thrusts, and the way his tip was abusing your sweet spot, it was all too much, sending you into a sensory overdrive. At this point, you had zero comprehensible thoughts in your mind except for the heinous acts you were weaving into your body: all of them being about your professor and his huge dick.

"Well, then my pup has to wait a little longer," he grunts close to your ear and then straightens himself up, "master isn't done with his pup yet."

"Can my pup wait a little longer?" he presses his hand down on your back, reluctantly making your walls clench around him.

You're left with no choice but to nod your head again, and it satisfies him; his gradually starts moving again, keeping his thrusts steady and slow. He lets you adjust to him again, and eventually increases his pace. Pulling and shoving himself into you, he starts bucking his hips into your thighs, his grip tightening till his knuckles turn white while you hold onto the edge of the table like your life depended on it. Your body oscillates to and fro, colliding and thumping with the wooden table with his every thrust. The sound of clothes crumpling, and the rattling of his belt buckle, makes your heart race harder in your chest.

You had never imagined you'd be caught in this situation; not that you didn't imagine or fantasise it, you didn't think it'd become a reality. Yeah, it's true that you had countless fantasises about your professor, one of them being fucked while you're bent over his desk—but the probability of him actually fucking you was one in a twenty, considering there were twenty female students in your class. Skin slapping against skin, his cock thrashing balls deep in your tight cunt, you were still mewling in your mind for more. The sensation was diabolical in a way, clustering your brain with unwanted thoughts—hell, you had lost it.

A known tightness tangles itself in your gut, your stomach cherishing the last bit of butterflies it felt before knowing you would flood down on his cock soon. Your senses drop, your stomach twists and knots, your heart runs a miles per hour because his thrusts were helping you chase your high. You were so sure he was going to let you take a break, let you ease out the tightness in your stomach; but to your unbridled surprise, he doesn't. His movements dither, slowing down till he comes to a stop again; he's still buried deep in you, and somehow that caused you more pain than his actual thrusts.

"Aww, my pup is too eager to get off," he mumbles, throwing his head back in pure bliss from your walls still clenched around him, but then he feels you loosen, and he starts pounding into you with a gentle tempo. "Not so soon. You're still getting punished."

He drags on for an hour or so, his thrusts stopping completely sometimes, his cock buried deep in your warmth—eventually he would pick up his pace and ram into your tight little cunt as if it was the last thing he wanted. You had been denied your orgasm a few times, counting it, you had been denied three times so far. Though that pleasure was turning into pain, your belly ached with every inch of strain his cock put on your cunt. Your stomach knots itself for the fourth time, your legs trembling and your yearning crossing your threshold to hold your orgasm in.

The familiarity only grows in your gut, your walls puckering around his cock to milk out his own orgasm; but he knows how to play it off well, he wasn't going to cum before you did. Pressing back into your thighs, he remains unmoving for a second before picking up his pace again, his cock plunges into the deeper void of your cunt, almost protruding the walls to your gut. You have lost your voice to make a sound, one thing—but the other thing was you weren't supposed to make a lot of noise. Swallowing your moans and grunts, you feel your high washing over; your walls tighten around his cock one last time before they're coming undone—releasing you juices all over his cock. Some of it squirts around as his cock still keeps plunging deep into you, a few drops stain his abdomen and get absorbed in his clothes, but he doesn't seem too bothered by it.

"My pup made a mess on my cock," he grumbles, closing his eyes shut as he helps you ease your cunt with a few of his concise and brief thrust. His thighs collide with yours, heat growing between your bodies and your skin slick from sweat and your orgasm. "Such a pretty pup, such a beautiful little baby..." he rambles on his own, incoherent and inaudible, but mostly it was him losing his mind over the trickling warmth of your arousal.

His thrusts become sloppy once he knows he's reaching his high; but he doesn't give out just yet. With a couple more longing and concise thrusts, he lets himself drive his cock deep into your warmth—he counts down the minutes with his ambling pokes till it becomes unbearable for him to hold out. Taking a deep breath and arching his back to let his cock plunge deep, he slides one of his hands on your lower back—pressing, pushing, digging his fingers and palm in your flesh, he releases himself in deep in you. With every thrust, he keeps pulling out till he completely slides out of you. He smirks at the sight his eyes behold, twinkling with a yearning no one knows, not even you; his load dribbles down your pussy, staining your skin in stark white shade, as some of it spurts on your inner thighs.

You're breathless, too fucked to understand anything and thus you couldn't register your surroundings quite well when he flips you over. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you down on the ground, having you kneel before him with his cock near your mouth. The veins on his cock were less bulged than before, but his shaft was coated in a thin layer of his cum and glints a bit with your juices.

"Clean me up, pup."

His order doesn't go unheard by you, and as the loyal little puppy you are to him, you hold on to the sides of his thighs and lean in to lick his cock off. At first, it's a weird concoction of saltiness and a little bit of sweetness, soon it fades to nothing. You lap your tongue around his shaft, over and under his tip till you've cleared everything off from his cock—you pull back, smiling dizzily because you were delighted to help him out. Half-lidded eyes trace a line up and you find him staring at down at you, his hand in the process to grab your jaw. Caressing your chin, he pulls you up on your feet and helps you sit on the desk before wrapping his arms around your waist to pull himself closer to you.

"Miss Lee," he whispers, "I'm sure the post-orgasm clarity is now sinking in both of our minds, but we certainly need to address the elephant in the room."

You lean forward to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes shut for a moment, you take a deep breath in and relax your tensed muscles. "Professor Jeong...I've wanted this to happen for a long time."

"So, you have no regard for me losing my job, do you?" he teases, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you, "Lee Sherri, you really are a brat. Making me break my rules."

"What rules?" you grin, peeking up at him as your wrap your arms around his broad chest.

"I don't date my students," he murmurs, pecking your forehead.

"Who's suggesting you date me?" you chuckle, shaking your head, "we can be fuck buddies."

"Is that what you call it nowadays?" he laughs, heartily, pouting down at you as he continues, "we'll have to be really careful, Sherri. Can't have anyone knowing about us—"

Knock knock!

Your eyes go wide, your heart thumps in your chest and your lips start quivering in fear. On the other hand, Yunho is pretty tame, and he only offers you a reassuring smile.

"Straighten out your clothes and relax. It's no stranger, I've been expecting him actually," he mumbles, breaking apart from your embrace to pull his pants and briefs up.

Whilst he is buttoning his pants and buckling the belt, you too tug your panties up and hop off the desk. You try to smoothen out the creases on your skirt and blouse—your white lacy socks were stained with dust at the knees, but you didn't care about it. The clutter of papers on the desk remains as it is, neither of you bothered to organise it. Professor Jeong smiles at you warmly before heading to the door of the classroom, he unlocks the latch and pulls the doors inside to reveal another man with tall silhouette standing there. 

Professor Song.

"Since when have you been locking your doors, Yun?" the latter teasingly mutters and chortles, stepping past his friend and entering the classroom which reeks of sweat and sex. He sniffs the air and along the lines his eyes land on you, "ah. So, you were having "one-on-one" with your student."

Professor Song wasn't a professor from your department, he was the heartthrob of the physics department, seemingly the kind who would definitely not have any sentiments towards his students or anyone younger to him for that matter. Clad in a plaid shirt and khakis, he too had a body worth breaking the laws for; his toned biceps bulged out of the sleeves he had rolled over to his elbows, his thick thighs (which you've fantasied riding on) were defined by his tight khakis, and hazel eyes were piercing through you with curiosity.

"Miss Lee and I were just discussing, weren't we, Miss Lee?" Yunho calls out from behind him, tugging down on the crotch of his pants for some apparent reason.

"Discussing what?"

You shift your weight on your feet, standing an inch away from the desk (where you were just railed by your professor) and you pull down on your skirt, not knowing why you felt the need to. You eye your tote bag fallen down on the floor, then at the mess of your binder on the table, and one thing becomes clear which is you and Professor Jeong did fuck on the table.

"I was chiding her for not completing her experimental write-ups, Min," Yunho adds, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand next to him. "Miss Lee, we'll have a proper discussion about your careless behaviour next time, perhaps tomorrow. Now, you may leave."

You nod, "ye—yes professor."

Hastily, you sprint out of the classroom after gathering your things and stuffing them in your bag in a haphazard way; meanwhile Mingi rolls his eyes at his friend and scoffs.

"Lie to someone else, Yun."

"Fuck you," he grumbles before a conceited smirk takes over his face.

"If you keep your trap shut, maybe we can share."

[chemical-killjoy]

Can you do Coffee Shop AU x Accidental kiss

With Y/N And Gerard Way?

Of course!! Sorry it took so long! It's been a hell of a month lol

Kisses and Coffee

Gerard x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: Gerard and Y/N meet in a coffee shop, become friends and more after an accidental kiss

You had been coming to your favourite coffee shop for the last decade, and upon learning that it closed, you were on the hunt for a new one. This devastating news left you wandering around town for a while until you saw a cute little cafe you had never been too before. And there was something about it that just felt right.

You took a small two-person table by the window in the corner of the cafe and looked around. It shop was a light blue-grey with paintings of flowers and posters decorating the walls. The air smelt of coffee, toast and biscuits. There was a hum of noise as the cafe was, while small, pretty full, and it felt like a warm hug.

Once you saw the menu, you were sold. This had to be your new coffee place, I mean, they sold churros!! And ham and cheese croissants! In the same place? Insane in the best way. You ordered a mocha and muffin and were snuggled up with a book while waiting when a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Wow, you're early for a change!” The voice that greeted you was warm, but unfamiliar. You turned around to face the stranger, and the poor man's face dropped.

“I'm so sorry, you are not the person I thought you were,” he said slowly, standing awkwardly and putting his hands in his pockets.

“It's OK, happens all the time,” you lied, giving the man a small smile to put him at ease. He had kind eyes and smile, with an air about him that just made you feel comfort able. There was something about him that soothed you, despite the random introduction.

The man sat down at a table in the opposite corner, and as your food and coffee arrived, he waited for a person that never showed.

You were so engrossed in your book, that when you finished the last few pages, your coffee (what was left of it) was cold, and your muffin barely touched. You put the book down and took a minute to return to reality. You looked up to see the man from earlier checking his watch once again, sighing and looking down at the table. You knew that look well.

You walked over before you could stop yourself.

“Hi,” you started, unsure of yourself. “Mind if I join you?”

“Ah, sure! Doesn't seem like she's coming anyway.” The man replied.

“I thought I recognised that look. I'm sorry,” you said, looking away. “Hey, my name's Y/N.”

“Gerard. Nice to meet you.” Gerard held out a hand, which you took softly. There was a warmth to it that mad you smile.

You sat down, thinking of how to start A Conversation. How do people do that again? Luckily Gerard swooped in to end the awkward silence.

“What book are you reading? You seemed super engrossed in it?”

“Yeah? Sometimes I get carried away when I read, it's like I'm not really on Earth and I'm in the book, watching like a fly on the wall,” you laughed, “Sometimes I get so invested, I make faces and gasp out loud without realising I'm doing it.”

Gerard giggled. “You know you've got a good book on your hands when that happens. So what kind of stories are you into?” He asked, and you launched into a long and comfortable conversation, as though you'd both known each other for centuries.

It had been a few months since you first met, but you and Gerard would meet up every week, having your own miniature book club that eventually turned into exchanging CDs and long heart to hearts til the coffee shops closed and the pubs became quiet.

Over time you struggled to keep your feelings or the man at bay. He was kind and cuddly, but strong and brave, and you just admired him so much. It was hard to stay friends when you watched him talk and focused more on his lips than the words he was speaking.

And though you didn't know it, Gerard got more and more comfortable with you, and found himself falling as well. The small gestures became touches, a soft brush of the hand when passing you something, leaning his head on your shoulder in a booth when you're tired, hugs that last just a moment longer than intended, and the occasional kiss on the cheek when it had been a while. You were scared to think that maybe it was only in your mind that his lips lingered for a breath longer than a friend.

It was a cool night and you and Gerard were meeting up at a pub, as you'd been busy with work all day but you both needed some time away from it all, happily finding refuge in each other.

The pub was a warm and vibrant atmosphere, people laughing, mugs clinking, and staff weaving through the crowd, remarkably spilling nothing. You struggled to find Gerard in the crowd, but suddenly there was a hand on the small of your back. You turned around and the scowl on your face shifted to a smile.

“Gee! How are you!” You cried giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek... or what you intended to be a kiss on the cheek. Gerard had the same idea, and you both went in the same direction. Your lips collided in a short and quick peck that sent electricity through both of you, pulling away with wide eyes.

Gerard laughed. “Well, I'm good now,” he said with a flirting smirk, and you turned your head and blushed.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” you started, flustered.

“No no it's fine, I'm sorry, hey, how about we grab a seat?” Gerard stopped you.

You spent a few hours happily munching on hot chips and a burger, and sipping a cider while you chatted about anything and everything you could possibly think of, Gerard talking your ear off equally. By the time your food was gone and your drinks disappeared, the pub was nearly empty and a comfortable quiet came over you both.

Gerard looked at you.

“You know, you had nothing to apologise for, right?” Gerard asked, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“When we kissed. I know it was an accident and all but you didn't need to apologise. I actually, um, I didn't mind it. I wouldn't mind it again.”

You looked away, cheeks heating up fast. When you didn't answer fast enough, Gerard tried to backtrack.

“'M sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, you know what, just forget I said it, it didn't happen and doesn't really matter anyway, I me-”

“Gee.” Was all you had to say to silence him.

You looked up at him with the Y/E/C eyes that he adored with all his heart. Even if your lips never touched his again, he decided he'd be content to just have your eyes stay on his for a few more moments. But you took him by surprise, putting you hand on his and then kissing his cheek. When you pulled away, you shyly bit your lip.

Gerard leant forward slowly, and kissed the skin where your cheek meets your lips, desperate to prove his point, lost for words, and terrified to scare you off. His lips stayed on your skin for a moment longer and you felt his breath on your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. You pressed your forehead against his, eyes closed, noses rubbing for a moment, before you both leaned in and kissed. It was magic. Not the extreme, passionate, thrilling heat. No. But soft. Calm. Warm. Like the safety coming home from a storm. The contentment of a good book. The joy and comfort of your favourite coffee shop.

The kiss ended and you both barely pulled away, soft smiles on your faces, light in your eyes, and quiet laughter drifting from you.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,” Gerard said, hand still behind your neck.

“You have no idea how much I need you to do it again.”

And with that, your lips met. And would meet, again, again and again.

Taglist:

This is a new account, I was @immrbrightsideeee so please click here if you were and still want to be on my taglist, or if you want to be added (it'd mean a lot!)

@fandomfoodiedancer @smiling-girl @niche-bitch @charlie-rulerofhell

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Will Turner Wednesday Post!

Decadent

Potc5/Modern/Coffee shop/Will out of Water AU

SFW, a couple of f-bombs

Words: 3,269

She takes him to what she calls a coffee shop. A packed one at that. They wait silently in line, she preoccupied with a slim purple and black rectangle that glowed. Will busied himself with observing those around them. The strange new clothes, the many, probable majority of them women, and the majority of them garbed in trousers. My, wouldn’t Elizabeth have been pleased. Many tack away at gray and black machines which glow like the one in Mary’s hand. Some pour over books with garish colored instruments and a few speak with those across and around them. Two young women bustle behind what looks awfully similar to a bar top, preparing a myriad of things in a multitude of cups. 

“What’ll it be?” The blonde situated between a large glowing machine and a little wooden basket filled with multi-colored sachets leans against the counter, a small smile graces her weary face. 

Mary leans against the bar top, glancing behind the girl at a top lined with clear bottles of multi-colored liquids. For all he cares, the place could be an apothecary lair. It most certainly looks the part. “Um, can I get a large hot, ah, chai latte please. Dirty,” she turns to Will, gesturing at Joan with her chin, “what do you want, Will?”

He freezes, his mouth open slightly and his eyes darting about. He is completely out of his element, a fish out of water if one would. He couldn’t tell port from starboard if this were a ship, and it seems the girls can tell. Joan looks to Mary, who takes a step back to check a black board hanging above them. “Uh… just do a hot chocolate. Large still. And the dirty chai is my shift drink.” 

“When do you come in?” Joan asks, apparently writing on what must be a white cup. 

“I close tonight. Plus I picked up the next shift.”

“Aw, and right after break too?”

“Yeah. I need the money. Plus I had to stay over night in KC anyway because of how bad the snow was supposed to be this down south this morning.”

“Down south?”

“Yeah. Wichita is supposed to see more snow than Kansas City.” 

“Maybe there really was something to all that climate change stuff, huh?” A smile cracked Joan’s lips, and Mary nodded with a chuckle. “That’ll be five-twenty.” 

Mary produces a slim, colorful something from the black pouch hanging from her wrist. Joan takes it and slides it along the edge of her magic, glowing box. Will is able to see that the yellow specks on the pouch are, in fact, flowers of some sort. “Was you’re break good?” Mary asked. 

“Yeah, it was nice to just be home and rest.” Joan smiles and seems almost reminiscent. 

“Oh yeah. Slept in every day I could,” Mary adds with the same smile, “have a good one.”

“You too.” Joan sets the cups against the bar top with a hollow pop, at the end of a line about six long. 

“Come on,” Will turns to find Mary seated at the bar. She motions to the chair next to her, which remains empty for now. Will’s forced to squeeze past a few young women, who he hears giggle with each meek “pardon me” that escapes his lips. Mary rolls her eyes once he’s seated, turning to the other young woman behind the bar. “How was your break, Carolee?”

“It was great, love,” the young woman replies, turning to a gleaming silver machine set against the wall. Within a divot sit three tiny glass cups, two full with water, one being filled with an earthy brown liquid from the spout above. It smells strong, a little bitter, yet a might sweet. “How was yours?”

“It was fine, ‘sides havin’ to stay in KC overnight. Wichita was forecast to get anywhere from four to eight inches of snow.” 

“That’s south of here, right?” Carolee, her auburn hair tied back in a small ponytail not unlike his own, moves quickly, removing some little metal basket with a long handle from the machine and placing it at another. 

“Yeah. I was there over break.” 

“Funny,” she hits a button, and the machine begins grinding something brown and course into the little metal basket. It’s rather loud though. “We barely had any snow in Cody when I left yesterday to fly out.”

“I know. We’re in a la nina. Or el nino,” Mary shakes her head lightly, a dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. “Whichever one is less common. We haven’t had snow at all for the last couple years then suddenly we get a freakin’ dump truck piled on top of us.” 

Will has no idea what a dump truck is, but he assumes it’s something rather large. Carolee grabs the little basket, sets it against the bar, swirls then pushes the contents down with two different tools, and finally pushes it back into the machine. She presses a button just above it and with a bit of a groan, the same brown liquid pours from the machine into an empty glass cup. She takes one cup which is full and dumps it into one of the white cups on the bar top. In a metal pitcher she produces from who knows where, she pours something white - hopefully milk - and brings that over to the machine. She slips a gleaming metal wand into it, and with the flick of a lever it roars to life, pulsing into the milk. A moment later, she flips the switch back and sets the pitcher on the bar top. It steams as she gently hits it against the bar top, and with the white cup in her opposite hand she gracefully pours the hopefully milk into the white cup. The brown liquid from before rises to the top and once she’s nearly run out of milk, it comes to the surface and she adds a small heart. 

She sets the white cup down, and with a strong voice shouts out “Vanilla Lavender latte for Jack!” 

Will glances over his shoulder. A force of habit really. “...his name?”

“Will Turner. He’s apparently my cousin.” 

Apparently the women had continued their conversion without his knowledge. Will turns back to the bar top. Carolee looks him over, he can feel her eyes searching him with some intensity, at the same time she stirs the contents of another white cup. Her blouse is a rather garish orange color, with some words he can’t quite understand and what look to be several stains. She then turns to Mary, eyebrow cocked. “What do you mean apparently.” 

Mary leans back in her chair, drawing a knee up and holding it there with her hands. “Mom’s Mexican side. Nobody really talks ‘bout that side ‘cause there’s supposedly some gang ties in Chicago or somethin’.” 

Carolee’s eyes go wide. Will feels his do the same. Whatever Mary just said can’t be good. “Gees, girl, okay. Vernon!” She slides another white cup across the bar top and sets it next to Will, but she continues. Her conversation and her work. “Where are you from Will.”

“You said somewhere in England, right?” Mary jumps in, shooting daggers where his heart should be. “Brighton, right?” 

“Yes. Brighton.” He parrots. He has no idea where Brighton is, but Carolee is busy and doesn’t notice the brief panicked look that flies over his face. 

Mary shakes her head, chuckling a little. “I only managed to remember cause it’s the place that one British guy mentioned this viral video he made about how to American’s, the like, two hours it takes to get from Brighton to London is a day trip or whatever.” 

“That’s cool. What brings you to the states, Will?” 

“Work,” he says crisply, with a lick of his lips, “I was hired to work on ships not far from here.” 

“Somewhere in Kansas City, I think.” Mary adds. 

Carolee nods, sliding a cup to Mary. “Here’s your dirty chai. And you’re hot chocolate is coming right up.” 

“Thanks Carolee,” Mary stands, leaving Will alone for just a few seconds. A precious few seconds. 

Carolee asks a question. “What kind of work do you do on these ships?” 

Will glances out the window past Carolee’s head. “Mostly building them, though I have Captained a vessel before.” 

“That’s cool.” Carolee slides another white cup across the top, this time to him. Mary appears to his starboard, a shiny black thing in her hand. She takes Will’s cup, sliding it towards herself a ways and snapping the thing on top of it. Evidently it was some sort of a lid. “Thank’s Carolee. Have a good one.” 

“You too. Nice to meet you Will.” She turns back to the machine. Will stands. “And you as well, ma’am.” Mary practically forces the drink into his hands and he follows her out into the building the coffee shop resides within. 

He ducks close to her ear to whisper “You lie like a pirate lass.”

“I doubt that’s a complement,” she mutters, stopping, then motioning towards a fireplace on the opposite side of the building. “Nobody every sits over here.” 

They sit in two red leather chairs, one across from the other, the fire place between them. Mary takes a sip from her cup, through a small hole Will discovers in the black lid. She sets hers on a small wooden table next to her chair. Will opts to hold his, the warmth welcome as his hands have yet to fully warm from the frigid weather outside. 

“I meant that as a complement.” Will says, his tone even. 

Mary rolls her eyes, leans back in her chair, and crosses her arms. She really does look like Elizabeth now. Particularly a cross Elizabeth. “Elizabeth could lie with her hands on the Bible. There was nary a way any mortal man could tell.”

 “Lovely.” Mary whistles, then pauses. Suddenly, she leans forward and begins an interrogation “Where are you from really?”

“Port Royal. However, I was born in Glasgow.” 

“What year?” her voice is sharp. Her brow furrowed.

That… that is something Will couldn’t be sure of. He knows for a fact his and Elizabeth’s wedding was in 1728… or 9. “I lived there no later than 1729.” 

“Port Royal or Glasgow?”

Will frowns, he hadn’t been very clear, had he? “Port Royal. Elizabeth and I were to be wed at the fort in either 1728 or twenty nine. However, we were rather rudely interrupted by one Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company.” 

“Fuck,” she grumbles, glancing out at the main section of the great common room. A great frown has appeared over her face. “What were your kids name? You said something about a kid, right?” 

Will doesn’t quiet remember if he’d mentioned him, but that matters not now. “I had only the one, Henry.” 

“The one who married Carina?”

“Aye.” He did mention Henry.

“Did they have kids?” 

Will smiles fondly, nodding. “Several. William was the eldest, then Grace, Michael, and little Lizzie was the youngest.” 

“Did any of them have kids?” Something clicks, and Will glances from the dancing flames in the heart to Mary. She seems to be scrawling away at her forearm with a black stick. He shakes his head, unsure if he should chuckle or scold the girl.

Will turns back to the fire and shuts his eyes, trying to picture them. He’d only met a select few of them, the ones he was now forced to assume where the eldest. “I know of very few. William’s George and Henry where his only that I knew. Grace had an infant named Carlisle and I believe Michael adopted a child by the name of Finnegan after Andrew was born.” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Will knows he should never have spoken them. Mary’s face clouds, and she reaches for her drink, taking a sip perhaps to hide her face. But her stormy eyes are harder to hide, even if they are kept locked away behind heavy spectacles. 

“This is going to be… difficult. Hell, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.” 

“If it is of any assistance, the last time I saw any of them was the 1820’s.” 

“We’ll see if it does,” She seems to consider something a moment, then she begins to ramble, “if I check the men’s names, and I back track from mom, there’s only like two or three generations I’m missin’.” 

“Is it possible?” Will finds himself asking the question with bated breath. 

“I need time,” she glances at something on her wrist. A watch, he guesses. They’d become quite fashionable to be worn at the wrist. “And I don’t have that now. I work in thirty minutes.” 

Will nods, standing. “I’ll take my leave, then?”

Mary groans when she stands, and turns back to collect her cup. “Yeah, come on, I’ll let you grab your stuff out of my room.”

She seems to know the path better than he does. Once they return to her room and she clambers up to retrieve his blade, he mentions he’s not quite sure how to get back to the bluff from where they are. But Mary drops from the top bunk once again, and with a loose cough motions for him to follow. 

She leads him along a gray path that runs parallel to what appears to be the main black road. There are a few more adolescents milling about. When they jog to the gray path opposite them Will spies a young woman flinging herself into the tender arms of her patient love. He’s a tall, scraggly thing, topped with a bushy head of brunette hair. Mary mutters “idiota” as they turn along another, shorter black path where the gray path falls away. Mary contents herself with acting as a tight rope walker along the red raised edge, and he slips behind and treads along the grass to her port. Rising to their starboard is the grand stone building he’d first seen once he emerged from the wooded path. 

“What is that?” He asks. 

Mary glances at it. She only shrugs, “That’s the abbey. Monks live there.”

They continue in silence. She leads him along the black path until it abruptly turns gray and loose. They trek up the winding hill, sweeping wide around the trees. Mary avoids the weeping willow leaves all together, her face screwing in disgust as a hand searches her scalp for intruders. 

At the top of the hill and too their port is the cemetery, and to their starboard is the bluff. He starts towards it, cutting Mary off. A protest strangles in her throat as she catches sight of what is just over the bluff. Will looks back, a cheeky smile on his lips “Come along. Keep up!”

Grass crunching is enough confirmation for him, and Will bolts, full sail. He reaches the bluff first, slowing enough that his stop against the railing is graceful rather than painful. Mary slows much farther back and stalls a few paces from the ledge. Her hands hang at her sides, her mouth agape, eyes wide, barely blinking. 

Will moves to her, taking her hand in his and guiding her forward. No need to prompt, she follows willingly. He draws her along to the edge and sets her palm to the cold metal bar, his over top. Her other finds the bar immediately, and he lets his own do the same. 

The Flying Dutchman is a magnificent vessel. Davy Jones had spent far to long at sea, allowed the muck and scum to overcome her hull and crew. But Will, Will had always kept her sparkling. Her sails fluttered in the breeze, bleached white and perfectly mended. Her hull free of barnacles, decks scrubbed bright even through a hurricane’s volley of salt and wind. She is beautiful, she is faithful, and she is all Will has left in the mortal world. 

“Holy shit,” Mary curses softly, taking a single, faltering step back. “You… is that yours? Holy shit.” 

Will chuckles, “I should hope so.”

“Does it have a name?”

“The Dutchman. However, if I were to be precise, her full names is the Flying Dutchman.”

Mary splutters, pacing. “Je… Jesus fuckin’ christ! How… how the actual’ fuckin’ hell did you get that this far up the river?!”

“The same magic that allows me to walk upright deprived of my heart.” He offers her a hand, one she either disregards due to convenience or truely fails to take stock of. Will clears his throat and only then - after a little jump - does Mary quell her pacing and eye the hand.

“What’s that for?”

“Now that you have seen, oh thee of little faith,? Will ribs with a smile, “does our accord stand still?”

Mary nods with a humph, and shakes his hand. “Yeah, but I need time.” 

Their hands part. Will cocks a brow. His gut begins to churn. “How much?”

Mary hesitates, bobbing her head too-and-froe. It only further wittles at Will’s nerves. How long could it possibly take her to verify what he has said? Has he not provided proof enough?

“Three days,” she assures. “Give me three days to double check what you’ve said. To see if we really are related.” 

“Where should we meet?” 

Mary shrugs. “Here is fine. How about noon on day three?”

Will feels a frown tug down the corner of his lip “How will I know?”

“Listen for the clock. It goes off twelve times at twelve. I might be a minute or two late since I’ve got class right before then, but I’ll be here.” 

“Very well,” Will looks to the Dutchman again. “I’ll be off then.”

“Just, do me a favor and stay on your ship.” Mary’s voice is stern, though concerned. “I promise we can talk about this more later, I’m sorry I’m running so short on time, but you need a serious reality check as far as modern life and manners go and I don’t want you to get into any trouble or anything.” 

Something pangs against his chest. Will isn’t sure whether it’s grief, resignation, resentment… probably all of that and much more. He’s spent so long on the Dutchman, so very long away from land. The thought of returning there, even if it is for but three days makes his skin crawl. But he has no idea how long he’ll be, well, marooned here, no idea of what his fortune might hold, and he’s morbidly sure he’ll need help. He doesn’t want to acquiesce to such stringent terms, but he’s got as much a choice as he did when he became the Dutchman’s captain. 

“We have an accord,” he offers his hand with a smile his heart’s not in. 

Well, that’s not saying much as his hearts not even in him.

Mary shakes it again, though she appears bewildered. “Sounds good. I’ve got to get back, but I’ll see you at noon in a few days. Okay?” 

“Aye” Will nods, turning to the path. It twists almost immediately away through the trees. Scrawny little poplars and ashes, yet without any light from the heavens, they’re dying leaves block most the light. 

Mary throws a nonchalant “See ya!” over her shoulder, and she crunches back through the grass, to the path. Will, with a deep, clammy breath, ducks under a branch to begin his trek. It’s a ways down, and three days to wait. 

Compared to three centuries, those three days are less than a drop in the bucket. And for that, Will is incredibly grateful. 

[scare-ard--sleigh]

i stole this from @offensiveagentpie (who also has great taste in fic ahaha) bc it looked really fun and it was !!! blank one here! 

will ramble in the tags yeehaw; 

[toaverse]

Disney modern au

So, I got a bit inspired by @alloutdisneyfan and their Hyper Pop AU, and thought; "Hey, maybe a Disney crossover, but then in a modern AU, would be nice!", and here we are!

Let's start with the Madrigals!

The Madrigal family lived in Colombia, in a nice town close to the capital city Bogotá.

Alma, the matriarch of the family, was retired from her job as a school council member, and focused her time on making sure her grandchildren have successful jobs. She didn't always have it easy though. Alma fled her hometown with her husband Pedro and their three newborn babies from the political conflict in their country, and Pedro unfortunately lost his life in the process. Being in an unknown town without her husband, Alma vowed to make sure her children would get important and high paying jobs so that their family's status would remain high and respected.

Julieta, the oldest triplet, was a nurse in the biggest hospital in Bogotá. Despite having been pressured by her mother to enroll in medical school and working in a medical field, Julieta loved her job. But while she was often busy with her work and taking care of patients, Julie would always make time to make and cook breakfast and dinner for her family. She would eventually marry the love of her life, and have three daughters.

Her husband Agustín sold honey in his shop, and it was well-liked by sellers and visitors. Before his current work, Agustín was a part-time pianist and often played in local coffee shops and restaurants. But Alma didn't approve of his job, and told him that he needed to change to a full-time and respected profession, otherwise she would't let him marry Julieta. Agustín agreed, and quit his job as part-time pianist with great sadness, but he enjoyed his current job as well. He would eventually have three beautiful daughters with his beloved wife.

Pepa, the middle child of the triplets, was a well-known TV weather reporter. She was well loved by viewers and colleges, and her job payed really well. Pepa would eventually marry her beloved husband, and have three children with him.

Her husband Félix was a beloved dance teacher who taught his students South-American dances. His students would be from all ages, from elementary school kids to elderly people wanting to live their lives to the fullest. He would of course marry his lovely wife and have three children with her. When their first two children were born, Félix was a stay-at-home dad and looked after them until they started school while Pepa worked. But when their youngest was born, they gave him to their youngest niece to babysit for the day whenever they both worked.

Bruno, the youngest triplet, had dreams of becoming a writer for theater plays or films. But Alma didn't approve, and demanded him to enroll in law school and become a layer, or at least a well payed and respected job. Bruno refused, but he got pressured and judged for it by his mother, Pepa and their friends, saying to just give in and that he would get nowhere in the arts. At some point, Bruno had enough, and moved to the US in search for better opportunities for his future, away from his family. He basically got shunned anyways after “ruining” Pepa’s wedding, so why not chasing his dreams away from them?

Isabela, Julieta's oldest daughter, was a florist working in a flower shop owned by one of Alma’s friends, and was looking forward to own the shop one day. She was well loved by clients and the shop was quite populair. At first, Alma didn’t approve to Isa’s desired job choice, and wanted her favorite grandchild to be a model, but one of her friends was looking for employees in her flower shop, and Isa really wanted to work around plants and flowers, so Alma approved. It surprisingly paid well, which both Isa and her Abuela were happy with.

Dolores, Pepa’s oldest child and only daughter, worked at a populair clothing store of a famous brand. She also attended a bookclub with her friends on the weekends whenever she had time. Dolores was also engaged to her long-time boyfriend Mariano.

Luisa, Julieta’s second daughter, was working at Bogotá’s local gym and was a personal trainer for elderly people. She would also help her Abuela, parents or Tío and Tía with chores around their respective houses whenever she could.

Camilo, Pepa’s second child and oldest son, was one of the most populair kids in high school. His jokes and pranks would make everyone laugh, he had lots of friends, and quite a few girls had crushes on him. Camilo was in the school’s drama club and aspired to become a famous comedian, which Alma approved of.

Antonio, Pepa’s youngest child and son, was only 5 years old, and was barely in elementary school, but he already knew he wanted to take care of animals when he grew up. He was the baby of the family, and everyone gave him attention, especially his parents and older siblings.

But Mirabel, Julieta’s youngest daughter? She didn’t feel special like her family. She had nothing to offer, and her peers and even her Abuela, Tía and oldest sister let her know that. Mirabel often got bullied in school for “being awkward” and for liking embroidery, and her primo didn’t bother standing up for her. Julieta, Agustín and Luisa tried to comfort her, but they were busy with their work most of the time. Mira felt like she couldn’t do anything other then having to babysit Antonio whenever her Tía and Tío were working or went out, which she had to do since she was 10. Mirabel did have dreams of going to the US and becoming a fashion designer, but Alma immediately shut that idea down, saying that she wouldn’t get anywhere in that field, and that she should be more like her successful mother and sisters. Mirabel was quite saddened by this for awhile, and considered giving in to her abuela’s demands and become a therapist instead, but then Bruno reached out to her, and the two began talking in secret. Mira told him about his dreams of moving to the US and becoming a fashion designer, and he fully supported and encouraged her to go through with it. At least Mira had someone who supported her.

I really want to do a modern AU for other Disney films as well, such as Lightyear, BH6, maybe Raya. So send me some ideas!

[wonlouvre]

hi~ can i request a seungcheol angst college!au f2l, where they both like each other but cheol starts hanging out with other ppl more, esp one person who likes him and he neglects the reader? dialogue could include something like “go away, i don’t want to see you” or “don’t call me that anymore” if you want. i’d like a slight fluffy ending, but you can end it however you want!

courage | c. sc.

pairing: seungcheol x reader genre: angst, a pinch of fluff and open ending warnings: reader is insecure and is blaming herself over what happened between them and cheol (please tell me i i missed anything!) word count: 1k

💌: wow. all i can say is this was a challenge for me to write. again, i made a few changes here and there. i hope you don’t mind! this is angst and i don’t really know if i did a good job writing it. i don’t want to keep talking about it as i don’t wanna spoil anything. but, thank you as always for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3 also happy birthday s.coups! :’)

You often wondered if it’s alright to throw away the memories you have created and shared with Seungcheol just because he said he doesn’t want to make new ones with you anymore. You often wondered if you would be okay to leave him because he told you to go away and that he doesn’t want to see you anymore. He doesn’t even want to be called by the nickname you have had for him ever since you were kids when he said with an annoyed expression, “don’t call me that anymore.”

Perhaps that was the equivalent of “I don’t want to be friends with you anymore.”

You also asked yourself if you’re willing to forgive and take him back if ever comes the time he wants to hang out again. But by the looks of how he was happy to be around his new friends, you didn’t see any reconciliation happening. 

It was cold. The last time you had the chance to talk or spend time with Seungcheol, you remember how cold it was. The air condition blasting inside the coffee shop, his actions, his words; all of them were cold. You were trying to talk to him, asking him what could possibly be wrong. You even went as far as asking if you did anything wrong to make him act that way. 

Seungcheol’s silence was an answer enough for you to stand up from the table and take your leave. 

You cried almost everyday. You just lost your friend that you have liked from high school and until now. You thought you two were getting along as if you were on the same page. But in the end, you and Seungcheol wanted different things. You wanted him to be your lover as much as you wanted to be his. And as for him, even if he almost wanted to be yours, he still sought for something else. 

You still saw him around. At the library, the cafeteria, the gymnasium, the field, the parking lot, the bus stop. Everywhere. You saw him all smiley as he talked to this person who fancies him. You saw him jostling and wrestling around with his friends. You saw him everywhere and you didn’t understand why you couldn’t seem to get used to it. Why won’t the pain stop from aching?

You want him to say sorry. You want him to come back. You want him to come back and love you like he did.

If he ever loved you at all. 

At some point, you snapped yourself out from continuously thinking about Seungcheol. It’s obvious that you didn’t even cross his mind anyway. You continued with your life instead. You studied hard and aced everything that you can. You made new friends and went all out in the best way possible. You also spent time alone without thinking and crying about him.

You lived even though it broke your heart that Seungcheol, the person who has a special place in you heart, wasn’t with you until the very end. 

“Congratulations Y/N!” Your aunt screams for joy and hugs you. “I’m so proud of you!”

It’s finally graduation day and you’d never felt so free. You smile and hug your aunt back who keeps on jumping in excitement. When she pulls away, she fixes your hair and gown before handing the flowers she brought. 

“I have to take a picture,” she says and prepares the camera. “Okay, smile 1! 2! 3---, oh! Isn’t that Seungcheol?”

Your smile instantly drops at the mention of his name. You haven’t told anyone from your family what really happened between the two of you and you really don’t have the heart to explain right now. You beg that she doesn’t call hi---

“Choi Seungcheol!” Your aunt shouts and you look away. “Honey! Come here!”

Please, please, please!

“Hi aunty.”

I hate you, Choi Seungcheol.

“How are you?” Your aunt is all affectionate towards your ex-best friend and it makes you want to vomit. “I never see you around anymore.”

You can tell Seungcheol is caught off-guard by the question with how he scratches the back of his head. You could smack it if you want and no one will care. 

“Just got busy with school and all,” he lies. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Well, don’t just stand there Y/N,” your aunt scolds. “Stand close to Seungcheol so I can take your picture.”

You sigh and swallow your pride. If you don’t want to be bombarded with questions, you might as well just take this stupid picture and carry along. Begrudgingly, you stand close to Seungcheol’s slightly tall frame. You still kept a small distance as you don’t want to have any contact with him. 

Out of curiosity, you glance at him and surprisingly enough, he does the same. 

You suddenly remember your questions. Is it alright to erase your memories with Seungcheol? Will you be alright if you do so? 

Your conclusion is no. No, it wouldn’t be alright and another no, you wouldn’t be alright. It’s both sad and happy that you’re thinking this way. Seungcheol can never justify what he did to you. But, the Seungcheol before cannot be erased by the present Seungcheol. You will never let it be. 

What and who you’re letting go instead is Seungcheol himself. 

“Hey.” 

The boy you used to love calls for you and you look at him one last time. 

“Congratulations.” Seungcheol’s cherry lips are smiling as he extends his hand out. 

Somehow, you can’t help but smile back and shake his hand. You can tell he’s sincere and that’s all you’re asking for. 

Another question comes into mind again, will you ever forgive Seungcheol and have him back in your life again? 

Maybe if the right time and right reasons come, yes. Seungcheol doesn’t necessarily have to love you like he did. If he just wants to be just friends again, that’s okay too. 

In the meantime, you’d have to let go of his hand.

[chisheya]

hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!

Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility. 

 i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will. 

‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)

Word count: 2.5k

The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm. 

The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream. 

‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever. 

''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''

''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''

''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does... 

''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''

''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.

''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.

Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty simple...it has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes. 

I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.

''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''

''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not. 

I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

 After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.

I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.

''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''

''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?'' 

''Yeah!'' 

''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..'' 

''Great, I'll let him know then.'' 

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me. 

''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?'' 

''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods. 

''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better. 

''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings. 

''And you?'' 

''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.'' 

I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me. 

''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?'' 

''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?'' 

''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.'' 

Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently. 

I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual. 

''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.

''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.

''So where will we head to?'' 

''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''

 ''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing. 

''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue. 

''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.

Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am. 

Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N. 

As you always do. 

''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree. 

''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims. 

A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.'' 

''I'm not sure-''

Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."

As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously. 

"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.

Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.

Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.

We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful. 

                                                         ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him. 

''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway. 

''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. 

''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat. 

''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.'' 

''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.'' 

''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table. 

''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful. 

''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...'' 

''Go ahead, silly.'' 

Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-'' 

''Not happening.'' 

''But-'' 

''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.'' 

''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.

''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly. 

''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks. 

''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''

''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks. 

''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''   

He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.

''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''  

''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''

''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''

''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.

''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''

''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''

''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''   

''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''

''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it. 

There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.

[gyuluster]

one last present | (f)

“Soobin gifts you something unusual, but oddly perfect.”

oneshot | established relationship! au | 1.7k words

s u m m a r y : soobin has one last birthday present to spoil you with, and you certainly did not expect it.

w a r n i n g s : literally just fluff, so much fluff, soobin is best boyfriend, a little nerd information about animal disease but nothing too grim, a little kiss at the end ):

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : hello hi this sounds all over the place but idc because it’s @soobmint birthday and this is tailored very much to her liking anyway happy birthday chae i love u so much <3

back to masterlist

“I’M NOT ACCEPTING ANOTHER PRESENT FROM YOU.”

The said boy furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out slightly at your words. Despite the image being extremely adorable, you refused to submit.

Choi Soobin had spoiled you enough.

“But, ____,” he began, getting up from the sofa the both of you were cozily settled upon. A few of the opened presents fell on the carpeted floor from his lap, and, letting out a noise, he instantly dropped to his knees, picking up the objects.

“No buts!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “You’ve gifted me half the shopping mall! You can’t expect me to accept more!”

The pout was more prominent with every word of refusal. “Honey,” he murmured, and the endearment had your heart skipping a beat. He propped the fallen presents atop the coffee table before you, standing up straighter once again. “I like buying you gifts. I mean, It’s your birthday after all.”

Indeed it was so. Of course you knew, but your boyfriend made sure that you never forgot — the excitement which radiated from him these past few weeks almost became unbearable, knowing he was planning all these lavish outings and presents, but you could not help but go along with his wishful preparation. His pure, unadulterated joy at wanting to make your birthday as special as possible truly touched your heart.

“And plus, after this one, there are no more.” 

When you answered him with a raised brow, quite unconvinced, he raised his fist into the air, a little finger erecting. “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise, huh?” You could not help a small smile escaping. “That serious?”

Nodding, he hovered the finger closer to you. “This present will be your absolute favourite.”

Looping your own pinky with his, he helped you off the sofa, making sure you didn’t drop any of the gifts around you. Then, wrapping the rest of his fingers around your hand, he led you out of his living room.

Taking a long journey into the hallways, you both turned to the kitchen, a vast marble sensation of countertops and island bars, courtesy of his parents’ wealth. Catching sight of the wall-length, transparent doors, Soobin held out his free hand, careful to be quiet as he opened the doors into the nature beyond.

The Choi’s garden was another world entirely — perhaps bigger than his house, a fine collection of all the fruit trees, bushes and flowers, scattered upon the lush grass, freshly trimmed this morning. You closed the door after you stepped into the cool evening air, the sun on its way to descent below the horizon.

“Where is this present, Soobin?” you asked him, curious as to why he steered you outside. He only answered with a knowing smile, converse quiet against the grass, hand on yours unwavering.

Your confusion only grew as, swiping past the trail of gran old oaks and birches, you ended up upon the small pond right at the end of your boyfriend’s garden. It shimmered with the golden light of the dying sun, a few crickets resonating around its edges. The little reservoir was your favourite place inside his domain, a lilting peace always exuding from the calm waters, lapping against the slight bank. 

However, as your eyes wandered, there was a new addition, settled beside the pond. “What is this?” you wondered out loud, gazing over the small, wooden structure, slightly bigger than a sandcastle. Its detail was incredibly intricate, a tall arc carved out in the front, a moving creature fidgeting at the edge. The roof was slanted, like that of a miniature cabin, and your previous interest had only heightened, tugging on the sleeve of Soobin’s white shirt.

“Stay here,” he said, letting go of your hand for a moment. Carefully stepping along the edges of the pond, he kneeled next to the wooden construction, leaning in as his hands slid inside the open doorway. You crept a step closer, craning your head forward to catch a glimpse, but when you saw your boyfriend murmuring sweet nothings to the unknown inside, you stopped.

That was when he brought his hands out, now very much occupied. 

A gasp escaped you at what was revealed.

Two small ducklings snuggled in the folds of Soobin’s hand, making soft quacking noises as his finger stroked each of their heads softly. Your face morphed into one of infinite tenderness as a smile curled instantly upon his lips at the reaction.

Slowly, as not to disturb the animals, he walked over to you, eyes never leaving their faded yellow coats. Only when he stepped before you he looked up, sharing some of his elation within your gaze.

“My last present,” he declared. Hovering his full hands closer to you, he added, “Here.”

You did not dare answer him, holding your hands out as, ever so gently, Soobin dipped the ducklings into your care. Their webbed feet clung onto your palms as they curled against you, welcoming your warmth. Your nerves had to be thanked for that, rising with each caress of their feathers against your skin. 

Your eyes lifted to the boy before you.

He was not wrong at all — this really was your favourite present. “How…” you got out, but of course he knew, of course he knew that you had wanted these creatures for so long. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you wanted ducks — it was certainly a bizarre first pet to have, but you always found these types of birds adorable. Whenever you and Soobin would walk through the parks in your city, you would rush to the waterworks within nature, and stare at the families of ducks for hours on end. Sometimes, the poor boy had to haul you out of the forests, but he always found his heart turning in on itself whenever he stole a glimpse of your excited smile.

So when he ended up in the animal shelter one day, weeks before tonight, in search of these animals, he saw these two baby ducklings, and instantly made sure to whisk them away within his pond, hiding them and their little cabin from your curious footsteps. 

Until this day. When now, they nearly slept with the gentle stillness you kept them in.

He could see it in your eyes. You were already in love with them.

“What…” you gulped, thumbs caressing their tiny heads. “What did you name them?”

Soobin’s hand crept up to his neck, scratching awkwardly. “You better not laugh.”

You narrowed your brows. “Why?”

He pointed at the left duckling. “So this one is Aristotle,” he began, awaiting your teasing, “And this one—” pointing to the right, “—is called Plato.”

There was a long silence before you burst into soft laughter. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, locking his hands behind his back. “I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, baby!” you gasped out, grinning. “I didn’t realise one semester of Greek Philosophy could change you this way.”

“Stop!” he whined, stepping closer as he observed the slumbering ducklings. “I don’t know, I just really liked the ring of it, okay?”

“Awww, don’t worry, Soobs,” you reassured him, nudging his leg with your foot. “I like the names.”

It was his turn to give you the unconvinced raise of his brows. “I’d bring out my pinkie, but my hands are a bit occupied.”

Satisfied, he nodded, watching you tend to your living gift with your fingers. “There’s something a little wrong with them, ____.”

Smile fading, you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “The lady at the shelter mentioned some time of...preen malfunction?” 

You knew exactly he was inferring to. “Malfunctioning preen glands?” Your fingers brushed against the base of the ducklings’ tails, feeling an odd texture around their feathers. “I researched this while I was looking for ducks as pets. It means that their feathers don’t dry properly, which can be really dangerous for them.”

“Oh my God,” he muttered. “I should have looked into it further!” He groaned, swiping away his hair from his line of sight. “How am I going to take care of them properly?”

Your stare upon him seemed to calm him down. “Soobin, it’s okay.” Gingerly, you patted their backs. “I know how to treat this.”

“I’m sorry for putting this responsibility on you, honey,” he mumbled, taking one final step to you before planting his hands on your shoulders. “I wanted you to have some ducklings, but seeing these sick ones just...it did something within me.

“I felt like I had to get them somewhere safe, ____. And the only safe haven I could think of was you.”

Your eyes widened, his touch all the more prevalent. Soobin noticed, cocking his head. “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

His hands crept up, sliding from your neck to hold your face in his slender fingers. “Do you not realise that I associate you with all the good things in the world?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, refusing to let the sting of tears win over you. “There’s a reason I presented you with the ducklings, honey. If you’re so good to me, then little Plato and Aristotle will forever be loved.”

Oh, God. How could you fight the waterworks after that?

Raising upwards, you closed your eyes as you captured Soobin’s lips, insides singing at how he welcomed the touch. His fingertips stroked your cheeks as he leaned further into the kiss, moving against your mouth like a lovestruck fool, yearning for you and everything you represented. 

As the sun fully descended, you opened up slightly for him, the boy clinging onto your bottom lip till a soft moan escaped you, causing him to lose nearly all of his senses. He might have gone further, may have teased his tongue along the swell of your mouth, but he held back. 

If it weren’t for the creatures nestled in your hands, he would have dared, but he pulled back, breathing a little panted as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheeks. 

“Happy Birthday, ____,” he whispered, eyes swirling with lifelong affection.

“I love you, Soobin,” you replied, lips curving upwards.

Then you looked down at the slumbering ducklings, smile growing.

And I love you two, too.

[prettyboybillyhargrove]

Flower shop au but

Billy's the one working in the flower shop. He actually likes his job but the first time Steve went there he was so pissed off. Because it was raining so much that day and when he was on his way to the shop some car passing by splashed muddy water at him. Now his hair and clothes were all dirty. He couldn't leave the shop but nobody was stopping by to buy flowers either. So he was just sitting there soaking wet, trembling and pouting when Steve comes inside. Hair all perfect, completely dry and looking like a million bucks. When the man shakes his umbrella and looked up Billy's mouth went dry. The man was handsome okay. All smiley with boyish charm and stupidly handsome. And not every day he had the opportunity to meet such pretty costumers.

He wished the man would buy the flowers for his mom, or maybe for someone in the hospital but the dumb man immediately talk and ask flowers for his date with this girl his dad introduced him. And Billy's dreams crashed. The man was not gay. It's not like Billy could get him looking like a wet rat anyway.

So he just made the ugliest bouquet, put his hate in it and literally threw it to the man's head. His perfectly shaped soft lookin hair shake a little bit and the man looked at him with a frown but didn't say anything when their eyes met. Billy couldn't take his blues from the man's hazels. Those were the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. The man himself was the most pretty thing Billy had ever seen. And he could swear the rain stopped for a second and the sun shine over him making a halo over the man's head when he smile.

When he realized he was staring he panicked and yelled "20 dollars and a coffee." Steve looked at him and smile widely like he wasn't staring at him for the last 5 minutes. Then pay 50 dollars and left the shop. Billy sit and continue his pouting, this time more than before because he find the perfect man and loose him in like 5 seconds.

5 minutes later just when he end his call with his boss for ask to call it a day and just gonna leave the shop Steve showed up. All wet, head to toe. Clearly he was running under the rain. To come to him. The flowers was now shining with rain drops but bruised because of all the wind. Steve stopped and just breathe for a few seconds. And then looked up at Billy. His perfectly shaped hair was now a mess, closing his beautiful doe eyes carelessly. Billy came in front of the counter and looked at him hopefully. Waiting for him to talk. Steve pushed the flowers into Billy's chest. Billy hugged them and stay still. They were looking at each other and smiling dumbly. Billy talks first. "I thought you had a date. She didn't like the flowers?"

Steve looked at him and smile more. "The flowers were so beautiful, I thought it would suit you better."

Billy started to blush after that like a school girl and looked anywhere but Steve's eyes. Steve extended his hand for a shake and wait Billy to accept it. They both felt electricity when their hands touched. Billy looked at Steve with open eyes. Shocked that he really can feel the chemistry between them. Then Steve cleared his throat and spoke, Billy could see his cheeks starting to turn red too. "I'm Harrington, Steve Harrington. I was gonna left my business card for my number, so you'd call me but I realized I didn't leave it halfway through. So I came back. You wanna get that coffee now? Or that was just a joke?" Steve was scratching his neck as he looked at Billy worriedly, cheeks still red.

"Billy, Billy Hargrove. Ohh god I want that coffee now please. I was just closing the shop anyway." Billy smiled cheerfully at him, and Steve's worried gaze disappeared.

Billy closed the shop and go under Steve's umbrella. When they started walking to a coffee shop he looked up at Steve and asked him flirtingly "So Harrington. Do you always like to quote James Bond? Or was it just to impress me?"

[binniesthighs]

a/n: and we’ve got another lil valentines day drabble eeee hope you all are staying cuddly and fuzzy! 

sweet like strawberry | reader x felix

Paring: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee felix 

Genre: fluffy fluff hehe 

Tags: valentines day special, coworkers au, friends to lovers, cafe au, two cuties in love, stuck with you au, wintertime au, teeeny bits of magical vibes, mentions of food, teensy bit of food play (sfw but like a leeetle suggestive), that good good makin’ out hehe 

Word count: 4.7k 

Tagging: @stayhavens​ thank you for letting me join for Felix as well ❤️

“Oh! And one more thing, for some reason, the security system keeps acting up. If the doors don’t lock up the first time around, just try it a couple more times and I think that it should work...I kind of just try it enough times until it works.” 

Felix nervously adjusted his cap with the little embroidered yellow chick. 

“Okay. Sounds good to me.” 

Your boss tucked his neck deep into his cable scarf, then tipped both you and your coworker a little salute. 

“Thank you both for being here on Valentines Day. Just a couple more hours! You can do it!” 

The back door to the café slammed shut from the blustering winter wind behind your boss’ coattails. 

“It’s really coming down out there isn’t it?” Your friend, and coworker-in-suffering Felix, shifted from foot to foot. 

Outside of the shop windows, the howling of wind shook at the shutters of the the display case filled with little mock-up cakes and pastries. The snow storm had been unexpected, but it hadn’t seemed to dampen anyone’s spirits on the holiday. Since the snow had picked up in the afternoon, customers still came rolling into the cafe with flakes all caught up in their hair, scarves and hats. On this day in particular, you had seen dozens of school girls and boys come in carrying their stash of valentines letters, bouquets of flowers and all kinds of candies. Little groups of friends would share slices of your special Valentines Day cake and smear cream over each other’s noses in a tizzy of laughter. 

You didn’t mind Valentines Day; there was something extra heartwarming and universal about it all. One day, out of all the days of the year, everyone stopped for just a few moments to say “I love you” or give out an extra hug or kiss on the cheek. How could you not feel all lovey and gushy from it all? Maybe you were a romantic, or maybe you really had just watched one too many dramas to make you feel this way. 

Earlier, you had been making a couple lattes, and a couple sitting by the window had arranged to meet right at the loveseat by the door to exchange gifts. One of them had given the other a couple books and a journal, and the other gave them what looked like hand-knitted mittens. They held the frayed fabric in their hands while the watched how their partner reacted. Of course, they accepted the mittens with a wide smile then pulled their love in to give them a giant hug. 

I love them. So much. Thank you. 

You thought that was what they had said from as far away as you were. 

This kind of love, was your favorite kind. The kid of love that was unconditional, that was given no matter what time of day, no matter what it looked like or how it was expressed, it simply was. 

You had always hoped, this was the love that you would have some day. But, you hadn’t found it yet. Not in all your years of crushes from afar, or love letters written in the night when you should have ben doing work. You had wondered, what was it really like to have someone love you like that: a love that existed in the early mornings, and dead of the night; the kind of love that looked over at you for no reason, and smiled at you just because. 

Perhaps you would spend your whole life looking: and while it saddened you, in a few ways, you had come to terms with it. If you had to wait, that just meant that you were waiting for something really great...right? 

You wondered what kind of love Felix wanted. The thought had crossed your mind time and again. You figured, he was the kind to fall in love fast and all the time. He would even get crushes on people who would come to the register to pay for their coffee and custard tart. It was supremely adorable. He’d stammer over his words with hands trembling at the keys of the register, and the tips of his ears would turn rosy pink. 

“U-ummm here-here’s your receipt....” 

A tiny smile would spread across his freckled face after they would leave, then he would rake his cute little hands though his hair, stammering even more about what a fool he had made of himself. 

“Well, when you think about it, you might never see them again?” You’d joke to him with a playful jab to his side. 

“But what if I doooooo??” 

Maybe Felix was the kind of person who wanted a love that would last forever, or the kind of love that he could daydream about. You thought that this might’ve suited him. It seemed as if that boy was often in a faraway place. There had been a couple times when he would stare out the shop windows wistfully with his mop in hand, or would giggle a little when he made designs into the lattes and mochas. He was just so happy all the time, but for what, you had no idea. 

Maybe Felix already had a love. You wouldn’t put it past him seeing how dreamy he was often. Felix deserved love more than anyone in the world you had decided. He deserved some to love him so hard and all the time. Admittedly, it made your heart ache a little thinking about how badly he deserved it. He deserved someone to kiss away on all those freckles on his cheeks on his cute little wrists. He deserved someone to shower all their love into his strawberry pink lips, and ruffle up his golden hair just to make him laugh. 

Maybe...you wished that you could’ve been the person to do so. 

“Do you think that we’ll get any more customers?” 

Felix had squatted down on the floor behind the counter into a pseudo-sitting position. His tan apron crinkled on the ground. 

“Don’t you think that everyone’s gone out by now? And the snow is picking up?” 

You squatted down next to him. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing anyone else. There’s only one more hour left anyway.” 

A sly smirk started to sprout on his lips, “What if we left a little early? No one is coming so...” 

“Have somewhere that you need to be?” You patted his head. 

“...No, unless spending the night with my cats counts as “plans.”” 

“No...date?” 

“Date?” He scoffed, “Me? Nooooo.” He paused, and with a tentative air, met your eyes. “Do...you have plans tonight?” 

“Mm-no.” 

Felix sucked in a tight inhale, as if he was mustering his courage. 

“Well, m-maybe, after we leave, --only if you want--we could--” 

The bells over the café door tinkled, sweeping in snowy and white air in with it. 

“I’m sorry, are you still open?” 

The old woman carefully closed the door behind her and clung tightly to her shawl that was wrapped around her shoulders. Only dressed in the thin fabric, you figured that she must’ve been freezing. Both you and your coworker sprung to your feet to attend to her. 

“Yes! How can we help you?” 

She was an odd woman, the kind that you could only really describe to look witch-like. While she had warm features, her aged skin had grown stretched with little marks and veins feebly showing. Bags under her eyes were deep, but they didn’t look tired, but like they held many years of wisdom, like he had witnessed much, and knew much. 

“A-aren’t you cold?” Felix rushed to the other side of the corner to help her to a chair. “It’s so freezing outside, and you’ve barely got on a hat.” 

His tone was gentle, like the one that you guessed he would speak to his cats with. 

“I’m fine. Nights like these, I’ve lived through many of them. They don’t phase me any more. I just thought that I could come inside for a moment to have a slice of that strawberry cake that you have in the window. It looks very delicious.” 

You nodded quickly then plated the second to last slice for her. You brought the dish over quickly with a little fork. “Anything else that we can get for you?” 

The woman shook her head politely, then took up the fork in her shaking hands. She ate quietly, merely making little “mm’s” as she licked the cream away. You and your coworker didn’t really know what to do, seeing as she hadn’t paid, and wasn't shivering from the cold at all. Felix shot you a confused glance, then rushed to the back of the café and to his locker. You heard the usual metallic clang, and he came jogging back with his own scarf that he had worn that day. 

“H-here. Please put this on.” He offered her the periwinkle blue fabric. 

“Oh. Dear, you are so kind. I just knew that you would be such a sweet soul. I could sense it.” 

The woman dabbed her mouth with the napkin that you had placed under her plate. 

“That was wonderful, I could really taste the love that had been baked into that cake. It’s always refreshing to feel that.” 

You and Felix nodded, still unsure of the situation, but smiled as politely as you could. She then swaddled her neck in the scarf, and sighed in her contempt. 

“No one has ever offered me something like this before. You are quite special young man.” 

She had voiced the comment about Felix, but she had held your eyes as she said it. Her eyes were a bit hazy, some kind of color that must’ve been blue at some point, but here now a type of soft grey-lavender. They were enchanting, and mysterious, but you had felt that you had known them somehow. 

The old woman rummaged around in her pockets, the pulled out two gold coins that were hefty in size, and thick like the kind of candy ones. You had never seen anything like them before, and they were a bit comical to look at, but still shone like the golden sun. On both sides of the coin, there was no writing, but merely an insignia of two arrows crossed over eachother. 

“I think that should suffice.” Her chair creaked under her as she rose, and placed one in your hand and the other in Felix’s. “Thank you so much for taking care of me. Both of you deserve all the love that’s coming to you. I hope that you remember this.” 

Felix muttered and turned over his coin in his hand. “T-thank you.” 

You shot Felix a glare. You had not the slightest idea how you could have accepted this as payment, but Felix seemed completely fine with it. 

The woman’s crinkled hand wrapped around the door handle, and she pulled her shawl around her once again, then buried her neck back into Felix’s scarf. 

“Happy Valentines Day!” She waved to you both, and you found yourself waving back. 

The door slammed, and you felt as if you had been snapped out of some kind of hypnosis. 

“Wow.” Felix whispered with a little smile. 

“What. The heck. Was that?” Your body trembled in the way that you would’ve have as if you had plunged right out of cold water. 

Felix stood smiling and gazing out, not even paying attention to your remark. 

“Felix? ...Felix?” 

“Hmm?” He turned nonchalant. 

“Did you hear me?” 

“What?” 

You reached your hand down the pocket of your apron to study that strange coin only to find that you couldn’t feel the cold metal. 

“...What?” You rummaged around even further. “I could’ve sworn...” 

In Felix’s hands which he had left cupped in front of him, his gold coin had vanished too, and he hadn’t even noticed. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I hope that this works.” 

Felix’s mittened hands tapped over the keys of the security system keypad and he mouthed the numbers as he did so. The pad illuminated with a green light and made little beeping sounds with each number. Once he finished the sequence, it flashed with a red light. 

“...Does that mean that it didn’t work?” 

“I think so?” 

The two of you had shoved your bodies together in the little corner nearest the back exit of the café. 

“I should try it again?” 

“Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” 

Felix gave a determined nod, then did the passcode, only for it to flash red again. 

“Oh my god, what if we mess this all up and then someone breaks into the café and then we get fired--I mean--I get fired because it would be all my fault--” 

You snarked out a laugh and pushed him lightly aside, “Here, let me try. No one’s getting in trouble.” 

You pressed in the same code, getting red once more. 

“What do we do????” 

As if it was his security blanket, Felix tucked his neck into his coat collar. 

“One more time, alright? Maybe there’s a manual in the office or something. We can try that.” 

An ahhh circled Felix’s mouth and he let out a relieved exhale. “Right. Right. That’s a good idea.” 

This time, you pressed the numbers in hard, as if that would make any difference, but you thought it best to try. But, red again. 

“I’ll go check the office,” Felix announced, and shuffled closer to the manager’s office near the back door. He wiggled the doorknob, finding it locked as well. “We’re doooooommed.” 

“No, we’re not. I’m not giving up.” 

In your head, you cursed out the damned security system up and down. If it wasn’t going to work, you would make it work. 

“5. 9. 2. 5. 0. 8.” 

beep beep beEP! 

“Oh my god!!! It worked!!” Your friend jumped up and down in his excitement. 

“Thank God.” 

Felix hiked up his backpack on his shoulders, grabbing the door handle at first, but then stopped. 

“Wait.” He licked his lips, “Before we go out there, I...I wanted to ask you, since it seems like we’re both not doing anything tonight, would you like to maybe...do something...with me?” 

His anxious eyes widened, and you could see his breaths quicken under his wool coat. For a moment, you couldn’t even believe that he had said such a thing. Normally a timid boy, his strike of courage was something that was astonishing to you, but it also made your heart beat just a bit louder in your ears. 

“You want to do something...with me?” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“Me?” 

He giggled lightly. “I just said you.” 

“On Valentines Day?” 

“I-is that weird? I-I’m sorry if I’m weirding you out, I didn’t mean to. I know that we’re friends a-and I think that you’re really cool--I’ve always thought that--but, I never really had the guts to say so, and honestly I don’t know how I’m getting it out now but, I just don’t like the thought of being alone right now, or you being alone. So--” 

“--Felix! Felix, calm down...” Even though your chest was thumping, your sweating hands squeezed your palms to calm yourself down. 

“Sorry...I ramble when I get kind of nervous.” 

His hands nervously fidgeted at his sides, and under the light of the emergency exit sign, a glimmer of gold winked between his fingers. 

Felix asked his question with glimmering eyes. “Would you like to?” 

“Yes. Yes. I would really really like to.” 

“Really?” His smile was filled with the very sunshine that he seemed to carry with him every day. 

“Really.” 

“Okay.” He reached for the handle once more, yanking it down, but instead of it swinging from it’s hinges, it clanked, glued to the wall. 

“What?” Felix shook at the handle once more. “It’s not...budging.” 

“Let me try.” You mirrored his action, and sure enough, the door had locked itself in place. “Wait. I thought that it wasn’t supposed to lock after we exited?” 

“I...thought the same.” 

Once giddy, Felix turned solemn and worry chased across his brows. 

“No. Nononono. This can’t be happening.” 

“It’s okay. We’ll just unlock it again.” 

You went back to your mortal enemy, the keypad, and pushed in the buttons, but no green light came from the action. 

“Is it on? Is that supposed to happen?” Felix’s tone edged with anxiety. 

The display screen on the interface had turned blank too. You had seen in movies that if you slapped the thing, maybe it would turn on, but after you had tried, nothing happened. 

“I’ll try the other door.” Felix scuffled over the the front of the café, and you could hear the answer loud and clear even from the back. The other door also had locked and it’s metallic clang resonated through the empty tables and chairs. 

“What do we do?” He asked once he returned to you in the back. 

Even though your heart was racing its way up your throat, you remained as calm as you could. “We call for help. It’ll be okay. Look, there's a phone number here on the panel to call the service company.” 

You drew your phone from your pocket, and it added yet one more object to your list of worries. “I-I don’t have service?? What the hell?” 

Felix opened his phone screen too, and showed you his non-existent bars. “Me too. It’s gotta be the storm right?” 

Your coworker’s eyes flicked back and forth in the darkened hallway, and you could hear his breaths start to quicken one after the other. 

“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay.” You fluffed his hair like you had down a few times before, an action that never failed to make him giggle, so you hoped it helped put him at ease. He keened his hand into your hand a bit like a cat would, and it was just too frickin’ cute, even in a situation just as this. 

“So we’re just gonna wait? Wait until our service comes back?” 

“I guess so.” 

Felix started with taking his coat off, and hung it back up in his locker. “Who knows how long that we’ll be here?” 

You did the same, but left your hat on, merely liking the way that it warmed up your head. “Maybe we can make ourselves something to drink? How about, I make something for you, and you make something for me? Sounds kinda fun?” 

“Sure.” Felix responded with a faint smile. 

In the dim lighting of that hallway, you reached for his small hand at his side. 

“Um, looks like we’re still getting to spend tonight together. I wish that it wasn’t like this, but, it’s something, right?” 

He was startled by your action, but let your fingers lace between his. The small connection was the one that had made you feel butterflies just thinking about, and now it really was happening. 

“Felix...I’ve thought before, I think that you’re really cool too.” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You knew that using the ingredients for your own experimentation was against the rules, but you had hoped that your boss would’ve understood considering the situation. The rule had been written on the little spreadsheet that he kept taped to the side of the syrup holder, but that wasn’t going to stop you. 

“No peeking.” Felix giggled as he shook something together in one of the hand-held mixers. 

“No peeking to you either.” You said, scooping some macerated strawberries into the bottom of a cup. 

For a boy as sweet as him, you knew exactly what you wanted to make: it was your own version of the strawberry milk that you had made in the café, but it had chocolate dripping down the sides of the glass and it was topped with chocolate shavings and a lovely amount of whipped cream. 

“You done yet?” You asked while adding your finishing touches. 

“Juuust about.” He rummaged around the little array of fresh prepared herbs that you kept in the minifridge under the counter. “Oookay! Now I am!” 

In the corner of your eye, that last slice of strawberry cake called your name. You thought to yourself, I could always make more. It was the last slice anyway. 

The two of you made a little set up at one of the tables and Felix even thought to turn off a few of the light fixtures, and brought out a couple of those birthday candles that you would use on customers, and arranged them in a cup to burn. 

Celebrate! 

Happy Birthday! 

You Are Special! 

Congratulations! 

“Aw, cute.” You slid your drink for him closer, and admired the way that the yellow glow of the candles flickered in his soft brown eyes. 

“I-I thought that it would make it more special, considering that where we are isn’t like, the most special place. Especially for tonight.” 

“I think that it’s special. Or, who you’re with is what makes it special.” 

Your coworker smiled coyly, then took a sip of your strawberry milk. 

“Try yours!” He pushed the iced drink in front of you. It looked a bit like lemonade, but not exactly. Swirls of purple juice danced along with the pulp of the lemons. He had garnished it with a sprig of mint. “It’s blackberry lemonade. I’m sorry if it’s kind of tart. It was my first time making it, but I thought that you would like it.” 

You took a sip, and the second that the concoction touched your lips, it was heavenly. While it was a little tart, the juice of the lemon bit wonderfully on your taste buds, and was complimented well with the sweetness from the ripe berries. 

“Good?” 

“Really good. Thank you.” 

He sighed a sigh of relief, then passed you a fork. 

“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.” 

“You thought that being trapped with me would be a bad thing?” You teased. 

Felix’s eyes adorably widened, looking as if he had spilled his strawberry milk all over the table. “N-no, I didn’t mean that, I just thought that being locked up would feel--” 

“--I’m kidding! Kidding, okay?” 

A tiny oh formed on his mouth, so he took another sip to fill the gap of silence between you. “Your drink is really good too. How did you know that I liked strawberries so much?” 

“Hm, it was a hunch.” 

Actually, he had said it a dozen times or more, but, it was much cuter letting him think that he hadn’t said it before. 

With the light of the candles now dripping a bit of wax onto the table, all of his features seemed so much softer: he was like some kind of dream, almost like a mythical being that you must’ve imagined. 

You wondered, maybe this was the kind of love that he wanted: the kind of love that was sharing something that you had made, something special to you in a simple place, a place that was not much else other than the people who made it. Or, maybe this was the kind of love that you wanted. 

Your pants pocket felt a little heaver, and you snuck your fingers in. The touch of your fingertips felt the cold and smooth metal first, then they ran over the outline of the arrow shapes on the flat side. 

“Mmm. You made this cake so well!!” Felix did a little dance while popping in a bite. 

“Felix?” You ran your finger over the golden piece. “I’m glad that we’re stuck here together.” 

“Me...too.” He shied. 

Carefully, you took your fingers to trace the yellow strands of his hair dipping over his forehead, taking in the way that they tickled your skin. In his nervousness, he took another sip, gulping loudly with eyes fluttering. On his lower lip, a bit of the cream streaked, and all you could do was wonder how it might’ve tasted there on his strawberry pink lips. 

“Can I...kiss you?” 

You could nearly see the way that his heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird in the way that his shoulders rose and fell with his anticipatory breaths. 

“Yes.” He whispered. 

You leaned forward slowly as to not scare him, tilting your head to the side as you pressed your lips against his. You had thought right: there really was nothing sweeter. His shaking breaths quivered over your lips while he tentatively kissed back, and it made your chest ache thinking about how nervous he must’ve been. You didn’t want to startle him, bur rather gently kissed him slow, carefully and respectfully. He shivered at the feeling, and his hand crinkled the napkin in his hand. The other, he had drawn out to rest on your leg, and rubbed his thumb into your jeans. The sweetness of the cream on his lips caught on yours, and it was unlike any kind of flavor you could have ever imagined. 

After a moment, you drew back, and Felix appeared like he was about to burst with giggles but held himself back. 

“I-I really liked that.” He tried his best to keep his composure. 

“Me too.” Turns out, you really didn’t know what to do with yourself either. Instead, Felix made the decision for you. In seconds, he had launched his small body into your arms and wrapped himself around you in a hug so tight that it was nearly suffocating. 

“I always kinda wondered what that would be like...with you.” He squeezed you tighter. “I can’t believe that just happened.” His smile cracked though his words. 

You wrapped your arms back around him and you could have sworn that you could feel his fluttering heart against your own. 

“Me too Felix.” You breathed in his scent which was that of daisies and candy floss. 

“Can we...do it again maybe?” He leaned back with arms slung around your shoulders and pleading eyes. 

“Of course.” You wove your hands into his puff-ball hair. “Can I try something?” 

An even more sickly sweet idea crept into your brain. 

“What’s that?” 

You took your thumb to scoop up just a little bit more of the cream bubbling on his drink, then carefully wiped it over his bottom lip, just as if you had been coloring him like a finger painting. You sucked off the excess, and he watched as you did so with wonder. 

“You’re just so sweet, I can’t get enough of you.” You hushed into him, leaning closer once more. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and with his quivering breath, he waited for you to kiss away the taste there, sucking the flavor into your mouth, then going to kiss over his parted mouth. A rather awkward creaking of chairs echoed, and he pulled his body closer to yours, and let you fill him to the brim with kisses in all of the places that you desired. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he even giggled into some of your kisses too. His hands found the sides of your face where he held you there gently. Once he was comfortable, the warm feeling of your tongues met, and he nearly melted from the sensation. Your hands crept around his tiny waist, and you never let go. 

It felt like the moment that you had been waiting for. 

Your lips broke, and Felix threw his arms over your shoulders again, dipping his head into the crook of your neck where he stayed for a while as you ran your fingers up and down his back. 

Outside it was a much colder and harsher world, but here, it was your own kind of paradise, and it was sweet like strawberry. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

At some point, you had fallen asleep together on one of the loveseats: a pile of legs and arms all tangled up together. When the morning came, the snow had subsided, but rather was caught up everywhere in the streets and sidewalks, and sparkled like diamonds. 

It was your manager that had woken you up, and of course you had gotten in trouble, not at first for sleeping in the café, but for leaving the all the doors unlocked. 

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ eddie ate dynamite﹫johnny suh

fangs - matt champion PLAYLIST

pairing : johnny x reader (f), feat. ten as johnny’s best friend and roommate and jaehyun as your college friend. 

genre : fluff, another case of smut with too much plot, pianist!johnny, guitarist!reader, college!au, neighbour!au, strangers to friends to lovers, warnings : ten being a cockblock, it’s overall really cute. heavy making out, grinding, marking, slight choking, slight thigh riding, mutual masturbation, slight panty kink and menhandling, oral, penetration. word count : +22k synopsis : where you never really tried to make friends with your neighbours. after all, most of them – if not all – are families that would not have much time to talk to a college student. you don’t mind, you’d rather spend some time with your guitar. but your new young neighbour doesn’t seem as anti-social as you are, it’s eleven past meridiem when someone airdrops a tab sheet on your computer, you play it. a/n : i got this idea while i was showering just after i ordered my electric guitar, i also felt like shit so figured writing about my ult would cheer me up.

Calm and clean streets, pretty cherry trees dotted in red, small park filled with multicolor flowers, you remember the day you moved in your neighborhood like it was yesterday. You don’t say it much, but you love everything about your district. Yes, it might be mostly – if not totally – filled with small families and couples in their thirties, and they usually don’t have much to tell you, you still love the tranquility.

No college students being obnoxiously loud, no parties every week, no gatherings of wannabe frats.

You have to say, you got lucky. The small – but convenient and comfortable – apartment you’re ranting is what you could call a “perle rare”, a gem.

After searching and searching for anything that could fit a college student and it’s budget, you found this very building, freshly built. Only fifteen minutes away from the city center, exactly seventeen minutes away from your university, you couldn’t really believe your eyes, you even thought it was a scam at first. A more than decently sized apartment at the second to last floor, elevators, almost soundproof walls, balcony, big windows facing south, you couldn’t ask for more.

Even better, the owner was a family friend, a deal that made everyone happy was quickly made and, a few days after your twenty-first birthday, you moved in.

It was a bit more than a year ago and you have to say, you quickly made yourself at home, you didn’t mind leaving alone either. Besides, you had friends over a few times a month, and your family didn’t hesitate to visit without any notice.

Ah, and, a few days after moving in, you found this very cute and cosy coffee shop down the street. Oh, how you got addicted to their éclair au chocolat and their croissant. You’re a regular there, now, and the short brunette girl at the register still makes fun of you for your pronunciation. They also make a pretty good iced vanilla coffee, one you’re drinking this very moment, hands turning cold over the transparent plastic.

“Y/N, hey ! I have something for you !”, a voice you quickly grew familiar to sings the moment your badge opens the front door to your building. Sun Sangkyu, building H7’s concierge, doesn’t even wait for the glass door to close behind you to stand up from his chair, searching for the said “something”.

He’s a balding man, you’d say he’s around sixty-something years old. He agreed to work at the desk for good money despite his age, you remember him saying he loves it, it distracts him for the day while his wife volunteers with kids in a less wealthy area. Sangkyu wears big glasses that often fall down the bridge of his nose, eyes half moons whenever he smiles with his little diastema.

“Ah-a, I know what it is !”, you match his tone almost perfectly, a smile stretching your lips. Walking a bit closer to the men’s cubicle, one he customized so much it contrasts with the minimalist style of the entrance.

Red banner for the Chinese New Year, you’re surprised he did not take it down sooner. Next to it, he has multiple drawings from the kids in the building, pictures of him, his wife and kids.

“There it is. Such a tiny box, what did you order ?”, he asks, and the middle aged men doesn’t hesitate to shake the box a little, bringing it to his ear. He’s a bit too curious for his own good, but you don’t mind, it’s funny.

“Guitar picks.”, you tell him with a laugh once he lets the cardboard box fall into your waiting hands.

At that, he frowns.

Small pout on his thin lips, his dark brown eyes shift to the left as he tried and search in his memory.

“But…What about the ones you brought last winter ?”, he asks carefully, almost like he’s scared of not recalling things well. But, after all, you were the only guitarist in the building.

“I…lost them…”, you answer after a few seconds of silence, like a child admitting they misplaced something to their father.

“Ya…”, his instinct kick in with the noise escaping his face, slightly rolling his eyes, drawing out the last letter. “Anyways, I have something else for you.”, he looks at something on the floor, probably where he left his leather bag.

“But, I didn’t or-.”

“My wife made some yesterday !”, he cuts you abruptly, wide toothy smile as he slides a paper bag. And, oh, you already know what they hold by the smell alone. Baozi, steamed stuffed buns Sangkyu’s wife can make like a real master, your mouth salivates with the thought alone.

“Oh, bless her.”, a sigh tumbles from your lips, clenching the small bag against your chest. As you open your mouth to thank him, the slight buzz of the door opening catches your attention. You notice a rather tall men pushing the door with his back, strong arms holding boxes.

“Thank you very much, Sangkyu. Have a nice day !” You conclude with a smile, nodding as the oldest returns the gesture, face already towards the unknown men.

You don’t pay much attention, quickly walking towards the elevator with your two precious items in hand. Your index taps the code and your floor number like a mechanism and, just before the metallic doors close, you catch the unknown men sighing, “One more box and we’re done, Mister Suh !” Ehm, the apartment on the second floor probably found a new owner, you think at first, the thought brushed away in a second.

The ride to your floor is a quick one, your full attention on the small box in your hand, one you’re trying to open as best as you can. But you quickly find hard to rip the thick duct tape with your left hand occupied with the wrapped food.

“Oh, fuck !”

What was meant to happen, happened. As the feminine yet weirdly robotic voice announces your floor with a “Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, you drop the small box. The cardboard hits the floor with a small sound, laying lifeless a few centimeters away from your shoes. Great, that will teach you. Leaning down, you pick the box up with a sigh, straightening your back as the grey metallic doors open in front of you, left wrist twisting to let your digits wrap around your keys. And it’s your turn to frown. Eyebrows furrowed, you take a step forward, taking your body out of the elevator before the doors close and head down again.

Boxes, boxes everywhere. Your door’s on the left, body naturally facing your apartment but your eyes can not help but look at the overwhelming amount of…stuff laying there. Probably a dozen cardboard boxes in the hallway, the door’s open to the empty apartment if it’s not for all the wrapped furniture in the entrance. Uh, so it’s not the second floor. You have to say, you’re a bit surprised. When you moved in, you remember this very apartment being owned by a middle-aged woman, the fake blonde told you about the three other places she owned and ranted all year around. Be it to travelers, students, young adults. Someone ranted it for two months at best, before moving out, you don’t even remember their faces, to be honest. You never asked why it was always empty, you just figured the area was more appealing to families that would rather buy their own place rather than rant it for god knows how much.

Well, seems like you have a new neighbor. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll introduce yourself later, once they’ll be done with moving in. Let’s be real, you’re not Bree Van de Kamp from Desperate Housewives but, you were well raised. Ah, and, you should probably tell them about your habit of playing the guitar a bit too late at night, you think as you finally take your attention off the open apartment and go for your own. Everything might be pretty well isolated, you don’t want to risk starting beef with people you barely know leaving right next to you.

Plus, who knows, maybe they’re nice.

Knife stabs the duct tape, the brown layer easily ripping under the sharp object. Comfortably sat on your bed, you quickly tear the cardboard with your hands, leaving the packaging on the floor of your bedroom, neatly leaving the small bag of picks you ordered on your white sheet.

It’s around ten and a half post meridiem when you finally get around opening your order. College life is one you knew would be busy, but seventeen years old you never knew you’d spend hours on an essay’s introduction. But thank god, you finished a good chunk of your assignment, showered, ate and now, it’s time for a bit of relaxation.

It’s sort of a ritual for you, a way to reward yourself after a productive day. You take a long shower or a good bath – it depends on the bath bombs you have in stock –, you eat a good, hot meal and get to your room for some alone time with none other than your beloved guitar.

The sun’s already set, the streets’ lights filling your bedroom. And, that’s when you notice the dim light coming from the room right on front of you. The layout of every apartment being identical, you know it’s another bedroom, few meters away from your own. It’s a bad habit you developed after your old neighbor left, you’d pull your curtains to the side and eventually took them out, they clashed with your room’s aesthetic anyways. After all, if no one was leaving there, you would let your window wide open for a bit more light.

You figure you should maybe go and find where you stacked them and get ready to struggle for an hour before eventually, putting them up again. But for now, you don’t mind, if your new neighbor actually pulls his curtains to look outside, all they will be able to see’s your light purple colored walls, paintings and pictures, your overly packed schedule stuck right on top of your desk.

You don’t let your mind wonder too much, after quickly opening the thin packaging, you let the small plastic picks fall on your bed. Medium sized, you choose the color you like the best, abstract design in red, black and white. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know where the six other ones disappeared, you even used to keep the last one in your phone case.

Digits wrap around the slender neck of your electric guitar, picking it up from the stand it rested on for a few days now, instrument easily finding its place on your lap. Ah, how you love the feeling of the smooth material under your fingertips, left hand on the body to keep it from falling as you lean forward. The Jack cable you left laying there a few days ago moved a bit, hiding under your bed but you’re quick to grab it, plugging it where it belongs. A flick of the wrist, you turn on your amplifier, turning a few settings. Now that you have neighbors, maybe you should turn the volume a bit down. Until now, you could play as loudly as you wanted thank to the building’s isolation and a few other…reasons. The men living right above you was a bit older than Sangkyu, and he had a few hearing problems, plus he didn’t mind the music at all even if he heard it a bit, when your window was opened. The women leaving right under you is in her mid-thirties, a nurse that had a working schedule you cannot wrap your head around. One thing you know, she’s never there from nine post meridiem to some ungodly hour in the morning.

You’ll talk to your new neighbors tomorrow anyways, brushing the thought off as you place the strap on your shoulder.

“Eddie ate dynamite.”, you mumble under your breath, pick plucking at the three top strings. In tune, great. “Good bye Eddie.”, the three last strings are slightly out of tune, but your quickly arrange that with a few twists. Right hand flat on the six strings, you stand up from your bed, walking to your desk with a few steps. You had left a tab sheet open on your devise before going for your bath, screen lighting up as you open it. It’s a song you practiced once a few weeks back before forgetting about it. Bold, black letters, “Fangs – Matt Champion”.

Eyes scanning the numbers, your fingers quickly find the strings without you needing to even look at your guitar’s neck. Your body follows quickly, shoulders and head moving at the rhythm, it’s a chill tune you can warm your fingers up to. It’s a moment you adore, when your entire building’s silent, fresh breeze of the early summer sneaking into your room, multicolor lights flashing in your bedroom (tiktok made you buy them). Tones and sounds of stings being pulled fill your room, it’s no hard for you to remember the notes at the end, eyes closing as you finish the song.

A good song to start on, you think before opening your eyes and…?

“What’s that ?”, you ask out loud, eyes squinting at the window that opened itself on your screen. Apparently, someone’s trying to airdrop something. It’s probably a mistake, you think at first. A weird mistake, for sure, your laptop clearly had your name on it. Your index finger’s about to decline the request before you take a look at the actual picture sent. Is that…A tab sheet ? Your eyebrows furrow a bit more. Clearly, this was not a mistake. Eye travel to the window, could it be ? Your neighbor’s room is now lit up, but you can’t make anything up in it, unconsciously waiting for a head to pop-up. But hélas, no movement comes from the other side. It could come from anyone, but you doubt

“The Less I know The Better – Tame Impala”.

Ah, you’re not a stranger to the song, you have it in multiple playlists, but you never took the time to look at the tabs. At least the person has some good taste. It’s a weird situation for sure, is this…a request ?

Unconsciously, your fingertips press on the right strings. Eh, might as well try it, right ? Tune familiar, you go through the intro easily, though maybe you should’ve taken something to loop the sound. Irises focused on your screen, you try your best not to mess up, eyes sometimes traveling from your computer to the neck of your guitar. Brown polished wood glow under the purple light, it softly transitions to blue, green, and you stop after the chorus.

Maybe you’ll keep the sheet.

Cold morning breeze, sounds of a city waking up. Birds singing a bit too loudly, a few cars driving by, chatter from families and young adults all around, voices muted by how high you’re apartment is.

You follow along, body turning in your bed, though maybe in a less graceful way, softly shaking the sleep out.

You changed your sheet right before going to sleep, after playing a few other songs, flowery fragrance comforting, nose deep into the soft fabric. You almost think about not leaving your bed but hélas, you have some classes to attend today.

At least, they’re starting a bit late. Sleepy eyes shift to your clock, the very one that woke you up, nine ante meridiem, you have an hour to get ready, that should be enough.

Another bad habit, your hand grabs your phone as you roll over to your side, cheek squished on your pillow, one eye closed. Maybe you should not do that, apparently the second eye's vision can and will go down if you do this too much. You have an appointment soon anyways, working on your computer all day long got your eyes dry.

Checking mails, social media, texts, you tour your phone before finally stepping out of bed.

Music theory class, multiple hours of it. But, at least, it didn’t end late at all, today was your only free day. But again, depends on what is your vision of freedom, you'll probably end up at the bakery slash coffee shop down the street to study a bit more.

Arms stretching above your head, your lips part in a yawn you quickly hide behind your hand. Fuck, you probably slept on your arm, shoulder aching under your fingertips massaging the muscle.

Walking around your bed, you take a few steps, dragging your feet on your floor towards your window. You needed a bit of fresh air before anything else.

The weather's pretty good today, you note as you fully step in front of your window, skin gratefully taking in the sunlight, a few white clouds here and there in the sky but nothing to complain about. The sun seems to already be heating the air up, maybe you can go for a light coat today, or a thick top alone.

Naturally, your eyes fall straight forward, to the very window you were looking at the night before.

Curtains pulled to the side, your curiosity gets poked, maybe you can have a quick look at the room, right ?

It looks empty anyways, you think at first, but it seems the universe wants to annoy you a bit today. Just as you're about to detail the room opposite to yours, a figure walks in.

His shadow is the first thing you see, stretching on the beige painted walls of the room before he eventually steps in front of his window as well.

Fortunately for your dignity, the men has his back turned but how... Broad do they look, even from a distance.

You have no idea why, but you're stuck there, one side of your brain telling you to leave before you get caught and inevitably get label as the creepy neighbor while the other whispers that you might want to see the strangers' face.

Shoulder blades move against the tanned skin, hands quickly run in his honey colored locks, pushing them back, it seems your neighbor's getting ready too.

That's when you realize your hand's still gripping your window's handle, right hand falling to your side, you really should go and get ready too but... You wonder, is he the one that sent you the tab sheet yesterday ? Wouldn't you want to put a face a the music taste ?

As you're about to take a step back, the men turns slightly, applying what you can only assume is cream to his face, digits running down his jawline as he angles his head as desired. And oh, the one second long glimpse you get at his profile is enough to make your lips part.

Shiny locks falling in front of his eyes, straight nose, full lips, sharp jawline, a curse almost falls down from your lips. You'd think anyone would find the guy attractive from the small peak you just got but... Isn't this a bit... Weird ? You suddenly feel like a whole voyeur, your eyes detaching from the stranger as your morals kick in.

He doesn't look like a father, or maybe he's very young father ? But again, you didn't see anything for a baby yesterday, nor did you hear one crying yesterday night...

Maybe he moved in here with his significant other, even though young couple usually go for the other side of the city.

Or maybe, he's a college student like you are, does he have a roommate ?

Pupils traveling up again to the window, you're about to get on your toes for a better look. Maybe you should say introduce yourself tonight, rather than guessing and throwing hypothesis out there. And maybe, just maybe, you want to get a better look at his face.

He turns around, you duck to the side.

It’s around six after meridiem when you finally, finally get up from the sit you occupied for several hours now. Maybe you should’ve taken a break between two massive paragraphs to write, you think as your arms stretch up above your head. Thank god, the beloved coffee you decided to drop your bag in had some comfortable light beige chairs, cushion as still cloud-like, exactly like you found them the first day you entered the shop.

You wonder how they keep them so clean, someone must’ve dropped their dark coffee or chocolate on the unforgiving fabric at least once, you surely fear being one of these clients.

“You done ?”, familiar voice hums, and you just nod at the question, eyes falling on the black clock right behind the counter.

“Yeah, I can’t think anymore.”, you tell your friend, hand grabbing the second cup of coffee you brough, shaking it lightly to estimate the amount of liquid left. Jaehyun, maybe your closest friend in your university, pouts at that. Dirty blonde hair fall in front of his eyes as he grounds, before he lets his forward press against his computer’s touchpad. The poor guy had been struggling for an hour now, the rhythm of his fingers tapping on his keyboard gradually loosing speed. You have to say, you were in the same situation, writing and rewriting the same sentences again, brain refusing to cooperate after already vomiting out a few large paragraphs. But, unlike your friend, you decided to stop there for the day, you still had a full week to finish it anyways.  

“I can’t do this anymore.”, the Korean grounds again, dramatic nature kicking in as his head snaps back, rolling backwards, the men cannot go a day without faking death.

“Save it, we still have a week to do it.”, you sigh out, but you don’t hide the smile growing on your face at his antics. Though, you don’t wait for his answer, saving your own file before closing your laptop.

“Six days. Six.”, he corrects, like a day changes anything anyways. See, Jaehyun needs to turn his paper in a single day before yours, since he had chosen to attend the very class twenty-four hours before you. Rolling your eyes, you know the men cannot read your facial expressions, bag turned as you drop all your belongings into your bag.

“You gonna stay ?”, you simply ask, there’s no need for you to point out the slight difference in days. Jaehyun nods fingers running on his touch pad as he zooms out his Word Documents, eyes scanning over his six pages for any underlined errors. “Well, good luck. I didn’t finish this, want it ?”, you ask, eyebrows slightly raised as you push the still fresh iced coffee towards your friend, who doesn’t need more, lips wrapping around the straw.

“Text me when you’re home.”, Jaehyun mumbles, mouth filled with tiny ice pieces, pieces he quickly swallows. “Don’t work too late, text me too.”, you finish it like you too usually do, quickly waving before you walk out of view.

“Are you done, Y/N ?”, another familiar voice calls you out, one you know pretty well by now. See, the coffee shop is getting more and more exposure as days go by, but it does not meet the owner and workers will forget about the regulars, like you. “For the day, yeah. Still have a few things to write but I should be done tomorrow or the day after.” You smile at the brunette, Hana, coffee “Flâner”’s cashier. As said, she’s a brunette with the longest locks you’ve ever seen. Or maybe she has black hair, you think it depends on the lighting. Anyways, she’s been there since the opening, working 4 days a week, greeting costumers with a smile and a light French accent whenever she spoke, thought you remember her saying she was born somewhere else.

“Ah, I hope you’ll have a good grade !”, she says cheerfully, black irises leaving your form as she places some cakes into their signature black box. “Is…Jaehyun staying ?”, the smallest asks, even behind the counter, you can’t help but notice her small, petite figure. It’s like she doesn’t dare to look at you, and a small smile stretches your lips. Oh…She doesn’t hide her crush very well. You wonder, is Jaehyun staying late for another reason as well ?

“Ah, yeah. He’s proofreading what he wrote today.”, you explain, fainting obliviousness.

“Oh, alright !”, she responds with a smile, eyes flickering from your figure to the your friend’s. You’re about to leave, let them somewhat alone if you forget about the three other costumers drinking their tea, when your eyes fall the small cakes she’s arranging behind the glass. And god, how they look tasty. You guess they’re make of a chocolate mousse, a shortbread at the bottom, your mouth salivates. As said, you’re not the Bree Van de Kamp of your building but, if you’re going to greet your new neighbors today, shouldn’t you bring something ? And no, you’re definitely not doing this because of what happened this morning, no way.

“What are these ?”, you ask, taking a step closer.

“Un royal !”, she answers in French, your eyes squint as you try to say it back. How the fuck does she do that -r sound.

“Can I have two of them ? And a croissant, please.”, you order, hand already fishing for your phone. God, this shop will make you go bankrupt, they will also make you addicted to their food, if you’re not already.

“Sure, ma���am !”, the young girl answers, before she grabs yet another black box. Fingers push the cardboard until it takes the shape desired, iron tool dropping the cakes into it. You’ve done this so many times, it’s ironic. Right hand grabs the box, left hand turning your phone screen towards the young girl so she can scan the code.

“Thank you, good bye !”

“See you soon, Y/N !”

The glass door is pushed with a shoulder, smile stretching your painted lips when you give another look inside the shop, catching Jaehyun walking up to the counter. “Buying three coffees isn’t a way to flirt, Jaehyun.”, you laugh to yourself before leaving.

It looks like the sun is about to set, sunlight a lot less aggressive compared to the beginning of the afternoon. Cakes in hand, the walk to your building is a short one, though you come across the Hwang family from the fourth floor going to the park, greeting the mother with a smile, waving lightly at the twins she’s holding hands with. Ah, you really do love this area, you think as you walk along the park’s barrier, catching a few giggles and screams from young kids. And, from the sound of it, they started opening the water in the fountains.

“Cakes again !”, Sangkyu might be on the older side, he still has some sharp eyes, you note. The door closes behind you with a small noise, the lock activating itself. “Yes, cakes again.”, you say, shooting him a fake-ly offended glare, left hand to your chest. “But these aren’t for me, they’re for the new neighbor.”, you point out, walk slowing down in front of the men’s cubicle.

“Ah ! Mister Suh and…”, his face contours as he tries his best to recollect the second name. Oh, maybe it was a couple, good thing you got two cakes, even though you got one for yourself… “Right ! His roommate, Mister Leechayapornkul !”, his features light up with a smile as he correctly – you assume – recollects the second name. Ah, a roommate, you think, interesting. “Oh, I didn’t know they were two. I’m going to introduce myself now.”, you tell him with a smile.

“Ah, by the way, have you heard ? Miss and Mister Jeon want to organize something for the building’s anniversary, I’ll keep you up to date !”

On that, you leave the old men with a smile, quickly strolling to the elevator. The metal cubicle stops at the third floor, a young girl you don’t really know polite greets you before pushing the fifth button floor, she’s probably friends with the kids on that floor.

“Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, the metal doors open on your small hallway, and for the first time, you walk towards the right door. Deep, dark green color like yours, your shoes barely make a noise on the light beige carpet as they lead you to your neighbors’ place. You stay there for a second, mind questioning the dumbest things, should you wait a bit ? How many times should you knock…? Raising your fist up, the first joints of pointer and middle finger tap a few times on the dark wood. One, two, three. You wait.

Though, everything seems silent, if it’s not for the small noise of the elevator going up and down. Are they…Not there ? A small pout on your lips, you shift on your feet, both hands grabbing onto the black box. The apartment was silent, you guessed your new neighbors were not there, your luck.

From : Jaehyun, 8:37 pm. : “im home !!” : “ended up proofreading and wrote the second to last part” The well familiar name flashes on your phone, alongside a picture you took when you visited his family on the country side. Jaehyun’s rather tall body’s folded as he tries to ride on a small tricycle, legs so long his knees are above the handlebars. Quickly, your thumbs tap on the small keyboard as you walk toward your room.

After entering your bedroom, you decided to eat a bit earlier, taking a shower before going back to your guitar. The shower was a cold one, if the sun had already set, the air was dense, heavy. Moments after stepping out of your shower, a thin layer of sweat managed to gather around your hairline. It’s like the weather suddenly switched to the middle of summer, and you definitely were not ready for it.

To : Jaehyun, 8:38 pm. : “is it because of the third coffee you bought :D ?”

To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “…i do not know what youre talking about .” To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “when are you gonna ask her ?”

You send the message before locking your phone, throwing the devise on your bed. You’re quick to set up your guitar, since you left you amp’ plugged in yesterday. Right index flicks the switch up, before you plug the Jack cable in. However, as you’re about to flop on your bed again, you notice the screen of your phone lightening up as your college friend calls you.

“How did you know ?”, it the first think he asks, tone whiny, the second you accept the call and press the speaker button. “It is very much obvious, Jaehyun.”, you laugh out, left hand finding its place around the neck of your black and white guitar as you bring it on your lap.

“Do you she’s int-.”, Jaehyun starts as you play out a few random chords, thumb stroking the six strings ever so softly. “Yes.”, you cut him before he even manages to finish his sentence. “She’s into you. I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t sure.”, he mumbles, and you hear his fork pick whatever his eating. After hanging out around the male for some years now, you figured your good friend was a bit clueless when it came to his looks and charms. Yes, Jaehyun knows that’s he’s handsome, you don’t miss the opportunity to remind him whenever he gets dressed up or send you a selfie, as a good and supportive friend.

But, Jaehyun doesn’t really weight the affect he has on girls, guys, and everyone in between. You remember when this guy in your Music Therapy class, and another girl, you don’t really remember what hear studies were about, but she was in your distant group circle and they both had a big – massive – you’d say, crush on your friend. You remember both of them throwing some light hints at first, thought the girl went a bit harder after as the first eventually dropped it. Jaehyun, him, was completely oblivious until you told him one night, when he was staying over after a night out. “Ask her out already !”, you sign out, left hand over your guitar’s string, blocking any sound.

“I will soon, okay ! Give me some time, I’m…Thinking about the right way to do it.”, your friend starts, drinking something in between his words. “Anyways, moving on ! How’s your neighbor ?”

You sigh at the question, opening your laptop as you search in your files for something to play, you really should organize your things a bit better, you think to yourself.

“They weren’t there.”, you breath out, eyes unconsciously flickering to the window. From this angle, you can’t really see much, apart from the vague shapes behind the curtains, yellowish light on before you even came in your room.

“They ? Oh…Is it a couple ?”, Jaehyun asks, tone slightly disappointed. See, this morning, you obviously told your friend about the airdrop…Thing. Obviously, you had texted him before going to sleep but decided to keep much of the details for a real life conversation. After a hushed story-time, eyes travelling to your teacher every now and then to make sure he was not looking at you, you told him about what happened this morning.

Of course, it immediately poked the blonde’s curiosity, who would not be. As said, you and Jaehyun had been friends for some years now. When you two met, he was in a relationship that ended a few months after, you being there for him had strengthen the bond, he had been single ever since and you, had been single all the way. Sure, you had a few crushes, two or three people shooting there shot but, the crushes were always short-lived, nothing serious.

So, when Jaehyun heard that you found someone attractive after months of radio silence of the channel of your earth, someone who lives next to you at that, your friend jumped on the occasion, already hoping for something to happen before you even got to introduce yourself to the guy.

“I don’t know, Sangkyu said they’re two roommates.”, you inform, trying to recall the two names the oldest men told you hours before.

“…Are you sure you don’t want me to stalk ?”, Jaehyun proposes for the second time today. As soon as you finished your small story this morning, the Korean asked if you wanted him to do some stalking, promising and selling his apparently, amazing, skills in the domain.

“Jaehyun, no. I didn’t even introduce myself.”, you breathe out, half-desperate, half laughing at his antics. “Alright, alright. Go see them soon, alright ?”, there’s a small silence, you simply hum at his question. “Play me something while I do the dishes.”, your friend yawns and you oblige pretty quickly, after finally finding a song to practice to. Maybe you need a little more practice on the song, one by Frank Ocean in the “channel ORANGE” album he put out in 2012, if you recall correctly. On the other line, the sound of water running and dishes being done drowns the voice of your friend slightly singing to the song, one you two have on the collective Spotify playlist you have. Your attention stays on your screen, just in case you forget a chord and, as you’re starting the second chorus, something comes between your eyes and the sheet. Your hand comes flat on your guitar strings, stopping the music at once. You already know what it is.

Jaehyun does not stop the water, but his voice does comes closer, microphone muted every now and then as you hear him struggle. “Why did you- Oh, fuck, nooo. There’s sop everywhere.” You laugh breathlessly at his whines, eyes quickly looking at the black screen of your phone, like you’d be able to see your friend. Though, you hear him wipe his screen, cloth going over his microphone again.

“There ! Why did you stop ?”, he asks, bringing his mouth a bit too close to his phone. Staying silent for a second, your finger tap on yet another Airdrop. “He sent another one.”, you simply say, a bit quietly, as if your neighbor will be able to hear you. Pupils look over at the window, you almost want to get up and walk to your window but…

Jaehyun gasps softly over the phone, “Play it, play it.”, he says as you’re scanning the sheet sent. And oh, he’s that type. It’s crazy how two songs alone help you draw a quick sketch of your neighbor’s personality, or his music taste at the very least. Unlike yesterday, you don’t hesitate and open the file sent, though you have to say you already know the chords.

“Jae’. He sent The Neighbourhood’s Daddy Issues.”, you squick into the phone after grabbing into with your right hand. Jaehyun knows well, you still love the band but had an unhealthy obsession a few years back, not to mention your massive crush on Zach Abels.

“Oh. Ooh. He’s like that.”, Jaehyun notes as well, before he presses you again to play it. Urged by your friend, you lean forward to adjust the reverb on your guitar. “That’s…Kinda hot, though.”, your friend whispers out and you, yourself, can’t comprehend the sound that comes from your lips, something between a laugh and a choked gasp.

“Jae’…What ?”

“No, but, I mean…Daddy Issues, that’s hot.”, he tries to explain himself, you quickly shut him up by running your fingers over the six strings. You don’t really need to look at the tabs, from memory, your fingers find their rightful place.

“3D, 5D, 3G, 5D, 5B, 5G.”, you say as you play the notes, humming the rest as you play the intro.

“C minor, G minor, B flat major.”, and from then, you remember the song pretty easily. Between two chords, you turn the volume on your guitar up, just to make sure your neighbor’s hearing you play.

“That’s flirting.”, concludes Jaehyun once you’re done with the song, you know him well enough to know his mouth a bit agape.

“It is not.”, you tell him, though you’re not sure yourself what this is.

“You have to talk to him like, right now.”, he urges so loudly you have to turn the volume on your phone down.

“Now ? No ! I’m in my pyjamas, and I don-.”, you start, and it’s your friend’s turn to cut you off. “’kay, okay ! Go talk to him tomorrow, please ?”

“I will, don’t worry.”, you start, but before you can continue, you’re phrase’s cut again but this time, it’s by…A piano.

Your mouth parts for a second, a single syllable falling from your lips before you close your mouth. The tune’s familiar, but you never heard in played on a piano. Your head slowly raises, eyes fixated on your window.

“Can you hear this ?”, you quietly ask Jaehyun, who answers with a soft “Yeah”, sounding as dumbfounded as you do. Slowly, you get up from your bed, leaving your guitar on your bed, that’s when you realize how hot it is. The fabric of your shirt sticks to your skin, hands lacing into your hair as your push them up in a makeshift ponytail to let your neck get some air.

It's after a few notes that you finally put your finger on it. The Weeknd's last album, “After Hour”. “Repeat after me.”, you tell Jaehyun, I single “Oh” coming from his lips as he recolls the song.So he's a musician as well, you conclude easily. You never heard anyone play this very song on the piano, you wonder if it's his own arrangement.

On the other end of the line, the blonde's silent, carefully listening to the soft piano tunes as you do the same. Few steps take you to your window again, just like you did this morning. This time, curtains are pulled to the side, enough for you to  see the same broad shoulders under a black hoodie, back straight as his head hangs down towards the keyboard.

From your spot, you can't really see his fingers, but you do see his hands quickly running over the black and whites, pressing confidently. Seeing a pianist's always mesmerising, eyes stuck on the figure, you try your best to get a better view but, what can you do from your room ?

When the song ends, unlike this morning, you don't hide behind your wall. Your neighbor doesn't move, stretching his arms above his head, fingers laced together, a curse falls down your lips.

“Y/N. Send him a sheet.”

It's around five in the afternoon when you find yourself in front of your neighbor's door, holding a black box of cakes, for the second time this week. Your classes had ended two hours earlier today and maybe, maybe you should use that time to work on your assignment but since last night, you don't think you can go another day without introducing yourself to the building's new people. Plus, you have enough time, you tell yourself.

It's ironic, isn't it ? You weren't the type to go out of your way to speak to your neighbors, most didn't have a lot in common with you but now. Now, this nameless, a bit too handsome young guy moves in and you're bringing some patisseries in front of his door.

Music brings people together, you've always thought, you've always known and this, this is a pretty good example. You're pretty sure you wouldn't have went out of your way like this if the guy didn't send you a tab sheet, if he didn't play last night.

Like yesterday, you bring your first up, knocking a bit more confidently this time, thought you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You barely have the time to let your hand fall down to your side when a deep, voice a bit far away let's out. “Coming !”

Of course, broad shoulder guy had to have a deep voice to go along side.

“Oh, hi.”, your soul almost jumps out of your body when the deep green door abruptly opens to reveal none other than your - handsome - neighbor.

“Hi...! Uh, I'm your next door neighbor, the name's Y/N.”, you let out, maybe you should thank your past self for practicing this very line right before stepping out of your apartment.

Your right hand's stretched out in front of your for him to shake, but your attention's on something else. Deep brown eyes stare down at you, they almost make you feel small. Or maybe they're a honey brown, you wonder as the plane blocking the sun finally moves away to reflect into his eyes.

Yes, definitely honey brown eyes, the same eyes that turn a crescent shape, just like before a full. moon.

He smiles at you with the same full lips you saw from your window, hands wrapping around your own.

“Ah, yes. Johnny, nice to meet you !”, he says, hand slowly shaking your own. Finally, a name on the face. You quickly notice the slight simple in the middle of his cheek before he lets go of your hand.

“Oh, I bought some cakes from the coffee shop down the street.”, you tell Johnny, both hands one the black box.

At this, his lips turn from a smile to an - o shape, eyes round. Maybe you guessed right at the moon phase.

“You didn't have to !”, your neighbor blurs out, hands at his sides for a few seconds before they eventually accept the gift when you slightly push the box towards him. Your eyes fall to his hands for a quick second and yes, definitely some pianist hands.

“It's just a small welcome gift ! I wanted to drop them yesterday but, I think you weren't there.”, you explain, a lot, lot more relaxed, though turning your attention away from the men's hands. This isn't the moment nor the place.

“Ah yeah, me and Ten we're out for the first grocery shopping trip.”, he explains, right shoulder leaning against his door frame. You get a quick glimpse at the apartment itself, though you don't look at it too long, everything looks already set up. You remember taking a week to get everything as home-like, but you guess having a second pair of arms help.

“Ten ?”, you ask, right hand wrapping around your left upper arm. Probably the one Sangkyu was talking about the other day.

“Yeah, he's my roommate.”, Johnny answers, letting a silence settle between the two of you. “Do you want to come in ? I won't be able to eat two cakes by myself.”, the men proposes after a few seconds, pupils landing on the black box. He probably saw the two cakes thank to the transparent part of the cardboard box, at the top.

Come in ? And... Eat with him ? Suddenly, your palms grow sweaty, slightly shifting one foot to another. “Oh, but. Your roommate.”, you mumble out.

Sure, at first, you bought two cakes, one for him and one for you. Though you thought you'd eat them by yourselves, when Sangkyu told you about the second person living there, you figured you'd keep the two cakes for your two neighbors.

“He's at his parents’ house to get some things, he won't be there until the day after tomorrow.”, the brunette tells you with a smile. His body moves a bit more, enough to let you enter. “Come on, I need someone to help me eat all of this.”

How can you say no to this ?

“Wait, it ends like that ? There’s no way he does that.”, laughs Johnny, a full laugh that shakes his chest, right under his plain white t-shirt. Short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, his body leans back, black jeans covered legs spread on his one person sofa.

“I swear he does, watch the second season !”, you interject quickly, straw mixing the iced tea in your long glass, ice cubes clashing against each other before eventually melting away.

“Yeah, I guess I will…! I never thought he’d kill her.”, you neighbor says, and he seems genuinely choked, bushy eyebrows raised.

After taking a step in his apartment, the pianist led you to the biggest sofa, where he left you for a few minutes. People say boys are bad at decorating their place, but you have to say Johnny and Ten’s apartment was already looking pretty good. Beige walls, a few black and white pictures were hung up right above the dark sofa. Wide windows on your left, your apartment has the opposite view. While you have a view towards the city center, street lights fascinating at night, Johnny has an amazing view on the park.

Large television right in front of you, you quickly notice de PlayStation 4 and switch neatly placed under it. On your right, just like your apartment, the small open kitchen, counter the only thing separating the two rooms. The honey-eyed seemed to have found his marks easily, navigating in the kitchen quickly. After taking out two plates and two small spoons, he placed the two cakes, refusing your help every time you offered it.

“Iced tea ?”, he had asked, taking out two long glasses when you agreed. Red hibiscus iced tea was poured and handed, before he sat in front of you. You do not remember well how the conversation around the series “You” started, but you recall seeing his Netflix profile on the tv screen.

“So, you live alone ?”, he asked after some seconds of silence, pillow lips wrapping around his metal straw.

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a year, I’d say.”, you start out, spoon digging into the chocolate mousse. “You’ll see, it’s lovely here.”, you tell Johnny with a smile he mirrors.

“I’m sure it is, everyone’s really nice. Especially Sangkyu.”, you laugh at that, the old men really has the power to give one memorable first impression.

“Ah, Sangkyun-.”, you laugh, “He’s something.”, you point out, yourself taking a sip of the iced tea. “Really good memory too, he made fun of me for buying two sets of guitar picks in a few months span.”

“Oh, right, the guitarist.”, Johnny smiles, placing his empty plate on his table. Pink tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes shamefully follow the movement before forcing yourself to find his honey eyes again.   There it was, you didn’t know when nor how to bring the subject up, but you were thankful it happened naturally. For two people, two strangers, the conversation was going pretty well.

“Exactly ! By the way, sorry if the music’s too loud.”, you add quickly, yourself reaching towards the table to leave your empty glass. You’ll have to ask for the receipt. Johnny’s reaction is almost comical, his head shaking from left to right. “No, no ! It’s not too loud, not at all. T-That’s why I sent you a sheet, I liked it.”, he blurs he words out quickly, cute, you think.

Crossing one leg over the other, your eyes shift to the left for a quick second at the small compliment. “Thank you. You’re a good pianist.”, you return with a smile, spoon scraping the last bit of biscuit.

“Thank you very much, it means a lot. Have you been playing for long ?”, he asks, glass a quarter full left on the table. His right arm comes behind his sofa’s backrest, getting more comfortable.

“Since I was…eleven. Got an acoustic for my birthday and ended up selling it for an electric a year and a half later. What about you ?”, you explain, remembering the light brown instrument your parents got for you, you also remember it being way, way too big.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve always liked the sound of an electric guitar better. I was seven, or eight. My mother wanted me to learn and I ended up really liking it.”, he explains, fingers tapping on the sofa’s fabric.

Music brings people together, you tell yourself a second time when Johnny tells you about how her mother loves the sound of a piano, how she’d always stop next to her when he played. A kind of art that helps you learn more about a person, when he tells you his favorite songs to play and you tell him yours.

“But you do have a real pianist’s hands !”, you argue back when Johnny down plays one of your compliments, to which the brunette looks down. Crescent shaped eyes fall on his ring clapped fingers, a small smile on his lips he struggles to hide. “You noticed ?”, he asks, and you try to convince yourself his voice did not get lower.

“Well, yeah. A music student always looks at people’s hands.”, nice save, Y/N.

You learn the young men kept music as a hobby and currently studies international commerce et economics, Ten is a long, long time friend pursuing performing arts. You learn your neighbor’s not only a good looking men, brown locks falling in front of his, nose crunching up every time he finds something funny, rosy lips tugging up to reveal a row of white pearls. He’s also extremely well mannered. Soft spoken, polite, his chuckles put you in a comfort zone, the way he almost doesn’t let you help him clean the two plates a bit too cute. You find his presence entertaining.

Maybe it’s because you just met him, things to learn about him awaiting, but you don’t see the hours running by, nor does he.

It’s around ten post meridiem when Johnny insists to walk you to your door, handwritten receipt of his hibiscus iced tea in hand.

“Do you want me to st-”, Jaehyun asks over the phone for the third time in a week, or maybe for the fourth time, you lost count. Your devise rests right next to your laptop, which is propped on your desk.

“No, Jae'. I don't want you to stalk him.”, you breathe out into your microphone, fingertips tapping on your touchpad at a random rhythm. A paragraph, the conclusion, and you should be done on your essay.

“Too late. Got him !”, he almost chants out and, at that, there's a silence. Clear sign of your disappointment and your blonde friend's concentration. “Oh, wow. He's a photographer too ?”, he asks as if you can see his screen.

You hate it, you hate how your curiosity gets picked by the simple sentence. Needless to say, Jaehyun was filled in by every bit of information you got once Johnny walked you to your door, at least he waited two days before searching for your new neighbor's Instagram. Or at least you think.

“Oh wow. OH. Woah.”, your friend gasps into his microphone, your index taps aggressively on your keyboard, deleting the last sentence you wrote. He’s obviously doing it on purpose, pushing your bottoms. The blonde knows how curious you are, he’s just trying to see how long you can keep it together.

“Uh, Ja-. Show me, what did you find ?”, not very long, obviously.

“Ah, see ! Wait, I'll send you some screenshots. He's hot.”

He is, you want to answer, but would rather shut your mouth for now or you’ll never hear the end of it. Eyes finally leaving the screen of your laptop, they travel to another, finger unlocking your phone.

Your text messages with your friend enlighten your features, bubble appearing at the bottom.

“Finding him was extremely easy.”, Jaehyun points out, before a few screenshots are sent at the same time.

And indeed, you see how easy it must've been for your blonde boy. User johnnyjsuh.

He must've been pretty popular in his old schools, you think after looking at his followers.

Pictures of him in the same white shirt you saw him in days prior, pictures of him with an argentic camera, selfies, mirror selfies, outfit pictures. His feed is almost as good as Jaehyun's. And that says something.

Unlike Jaehyun, you don't have to be careful, worried you'll accidentally like one of his pictures. Shamelessly zooming on the screenshots your university friend sent you, you unconsciously pull your bottom him between your teeth.

He's cute. Too handsome it should be illegal.

“That's a lot but, yeah.”, Jaehyun giggles, you learn you don't have much of a filter between your mind and mouth. “Follow him !”

“Are you crazy ?”, you almost scream out, eyes wide at the suggestion. “He'll know we searched him up.”

Basic social media rules, you can't follow the guy when you don't even have his number, nor talked to him more than twice at this point, if him talking to you in the elevator counts.

“Alright, alright. Don't scream in my ears like that, I have earphones.”, he complains, not leaving you a second before continuing. “Y/N, don't be a coward, airdrop something.”

“I-.”, you start out, attention drown back to your computer. With one tap of your finger, you manage to hide your word document, piano sheet open behind it. You’ve searched a few sheets the day prior, downloading one before going to sleep that night, just in case.

After all, he sent you two tabs, why wouldn't you send him something ?

Tap, tap, you open the airdrop settings. You really should, hm ?

“Alright. I'm doing it.”, you finally say, more to yourself but your friend softly cheers on anyways.

“Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish.”, from the songs he sent you, it's a fair guess your neighbor is familiar with this one too, you’d doubt he doesn’t know who Billie Eilish is.

“Johnny's IPhone”, it's a click away. One you reach, tapping on the touch pad again. Sent. There.

“Now we wait.”, you announce, leaning back .

“Tell me if anything happens, I have a call to take.”

On that, simple goodbyes are said, you promise Jaehyun you’d tell me if anything happens, he hangs up after saying good bye a second time.

Minutes go by, you don't really know how many, maybe five where you debate going back to your essay, finger frantically tapping on the Word Document icon. Before a few notes are heard.

Piano notes, fingers pressed down on white and black keys. It has the power to make you smile, lips tugging upwards, there’s obviously not a doubt who’s playing at this very moment. Even the way he plays feels confident, he's sure of himself, he knows what he's doing.

Attention for your school work long gone, your pupils naturally find your window again.

It's slightly open, the music would come in easier if it was fully pushed, you think to yourself.

Do you even have to hide anymore ? You guess not. He knows, you know, it's just music you want to enjoy, you convince yourself even though your palms are slightly warm, heart fluttering in your chest.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you quickly walk to your window, right hand in the handle pushes it towards yourself. Warm breeze enters your bedroom, in a soft gush that sends your baby hairs floating away from your face, framing your features.

The sun's just starting to set, purple hue tiger stripes on the blue sky but your eyes are on another shade of purple.

Johnny's wearing a light lilac hoodie, brown locks the only thing you can see, he hasn't moved his piano, his back facing you again.

Forearms against the window frame, you lean forward, humming at the summer sent floating in the air.

A bit too quickly, your neighbor ends the song, hands lingering on the keyboard. Finally, his right hand grabs the very phone he propped up on his piano to see the sheet you sent him, sliding it in his back pocket.

He stands up, fingers toying with a button on his instrument, probably turning some things off.

He turns around, you don't duck to the side.

The men's visibly taken back, his turn stopping mid-way, lips slightly parting for a second. Honey brown eyes find yours before his pupils travel down at your body behind your glass window. He genuinely smiles after a few seconds, eyes half crescents, full lips tugging upwards, you can almost hear his giggle.

“Hi.”, voice soft, Johnny says once he opened his own window a bit more, forearms on his frame, mirroring your own posture.

“Hey, that was very good.”, you tell him, head tilting to your left.

“Ah, thank you. I messed up somewhere in the beginning, though.”, one hand scratches the back of his neck like an embarrassed teenager, before his elbow rests on the frame, hand holding his jaw.

“Ah shoot, I'll send something easier next time.”, you tease, to which he laughs lightly, the sound airy.

“Would be easier to send it by text, wouldn't it ?”, Johnny asks, one eyebrow raised and you have to say, you took a second to understand. But when the brunette hands you his phone, pricy devise between two apartments on the ninth floor, your eyes grow wide.

Your number, he wants your number.

Probably just because you two are neighbors, you have a bunch of your neighbors’ phone number too...

And also probably because sending sheet via airdrop isn't the most convenient thing in the world. Don’t over think it, Y/N. Don’t overthink it.

Two hands grab his phone, just in case, and you struggle to remember your phone number all of a sudden.

You have to retract in your room, too scared you're going to drop the devise with your slightly trembling hands before eventually typing in your name and phone number. You don’t get why you’re so nervous, maybe it’s because Johnny didn’t stop looking at you, slightly giggling at your antics.

“Oh, by the way. I'm sorry if sending that tab sheet the first time was too much. I just couldn't resist.”, Johnny blurs out once he gets his phone back, sliding it back into his pocket. It’s his turn to look slightly nervous, hand rubbing at his shoulder.

“Ah, no, not at all ! It was fun, plus I think we might share the same music taste.”, you reassure him with a smile.

“Really ? You should send me your playlists.”, your neighbor says with an enthusiastic tone, eyes lightening up.

If Jaehyun was there, he'd tell you this was blatant flirting. Maybe you'd agree. At that very moment, you thank your past self for having a pretty organized Spotify accounts, you're one of these people with matching playlists accounts and vague names, a playlist for each feeling almost.

“Yeah, sure ! I'll send you my Spotify user !”, you immediately tell him, as keen as he is.

“Nice, and I c-.", his sentence is abruptly cut by a surprised noise falling from his lips, brown eyes looking up at the sky. He sticks out his right hand, palm up.

Rain starts pouring down.

Saturday, laundry day. It’s not a moment you particularly cherish but at least, you do not have to walk meters or kilometers to wash your clothes. Half thorn basket on your left hip, your right hand mindlessly scrolls through Johnny’s playlist, small smile on your features.

See, after the rain started pouring down, you two decided to return to your rooms in unanimity. Now that he had your number, communication was a lot, lot easier. As promised, you sent him your Spotify profile, where he followed you and you did the same.

User youngho’s listening to “The Weekend – SZA” from “late summer nights and city lights” playlist.

Your playlist.

User citylight’s listening to “Angelina – WIINSTON” from “yellow” playlist. His playlist.

Blatant flirting, Jaehyun would say.

Johnny has his playlist organized by colors, a simple theme you quite like. You have to say, you like all of them but, you had to follow his “purple”, “blue” and “yellow” playlist, where your neighbor managed to capture the color’s feeling. However, after a few days, the “red” playlist sat untouched. You didn’t dare. For having a similar playlist Johnny was actually shamelessly listening to, you knew exactly what the “red” playlist held.  

To : Johnny, 1:25 pm. : “how does angelina only has 40k view on youtube !!”

You quickly type on your keyboard, right after saving the said song to your likes. Finding new artist and finding new song’s always fun, especially when Johnny’s as invested as you are. He’d send you his thoughts on some songs, and you quickly learned the brunette was musically more intelligent than some people in your course.

From : Johnny, 1:27 pm. : “I honestly don’t know….” : “It’s such a catchy song too like”

Double text. Fuck, Jaehyun really got into your brain, didn’t he ? The notification bar slides down for a few seconds, enough for you to read his texts. At the same time, the metallic doors of your elevator open up to the lobby. Leaving your devise in your basket of dirty clothes, you figure you’d answer in a few minutes, once you’re done with your laundry.

“Good afternoon, Sangkyu !”, you call out the the older men before he manages to see you. It’s a fun thing you like to do, catching him off guard whenever you can. Turning his face towards you, the bold men vigorously waves.

“Y/N ! Hello !”

You don’t stop by his cubicle, rather turn to your left right before. There’s built the building’s laundry unit, you thank the architect every week for this. You do pay a little for it every month but again, it’s better than having to walk for minutes with a basket of heavy fabric. Four small machines and four bigger, it’s enough for everyone in the building. It’s also where some announcements are tapped, probably because people usually sit around the laundry room waiting for their clothes.

You’re probably going to watch an episode of Chambers while your clothes watch, you think to yourself as you open the door. It seems the universe has some other plans for you.

By now, it’s almost comical how easily you recognize Johnny’s back. Brown t-shirt on his broad shoulders, his head bob to a rhythm you can’t hear. He’s dropping his wet clothes in the machine to dry them, face turning towards the noise as you close the heavy door behind you.

“Oh, Y/N, hey !”, his smile is heard through his voice, right hand taking his earphones one. Johnny places his Airpods in their case, one you quickly notice is Marvel themed.

“Hey, Johnny.”, you wave with a hand, taking your earphones off as well.

“I was just listening to your playlist.”, the brunette says, shaking his earphones in his hand. You laugh at that, leaving your basket on the table. You assume the second basket there is Johnny’s. “Same !”

There’s a comfortable silence, the brunette pushes a few buttons on the machine and his clothes are sent for a cycle. You, yourself, drop your clothes in the washing machine after setting your phone on the brown table. You’re about to turn around and sit down, but you’re abruptly blocked by a tall figure, accidently bumping into Johnny’s chest.

“Oh, sorry.”, he breathes out, you hear him place another basket on his machine, right hand on your shoulder as if his chest did anything more than surprise you. “No worries…How many clothes do you have ?”, you ask with a laugh, not meaning to sound rude. But your neighbor’s dumping a second whole basket into the machine right next to you.

“Ah, Ten. He needs an entire outfit every day. Sometimes he even changes in the middle of the day.”, the machine quietly starts after the blue liquid is poured, Johnny leans against it. You’ve never seen your neighbor so up close, how is his face so symmetrical ? Slender eyes curling inwards, short little lashes batting a few times.

“Y/N ?”, fuck. His lips sure were moving and you didn’t register anything at all, you probably look dumb.

“I’m sorry, wh- what did you say ?”, clearing your throat, your eyes travel down to the machine, looking at the settings like you forgot to turn something on.

“I found your guitar picks. I mean, I assumed they’re yours.”, he says again, but he doesn’t hide the wide smile on his lips. You probably look dumb, really dumb. Right hand fishes into his back open, before he presents what indeed is one of your guitar picks, the light blue one. He holds it between his thumb and index, you notice he does so the right way, maybe he plays guitar.

“Oh, yeah. That’s definitely mine. Where did you find it…?”, you half ask, already knowing the possible answer. His palm opens to reveal not one, but two other picks of different colors.

“Washing machine.”, he says simply.

You learn Johnny uses a detergent that smells like vanilla and some flower blossom you can not distinguish, but the smell sure is comforting. It floats in the air as he folds his clothes next to you while doing a very detailed report on The Weeknd’s new album.

“But he’s right, though. “Repeat after me” is just a song where he brainwashes her but it’s so good.”, you tell Johnny while you take care of your wet clothes.

“His storytelling skills just keep getting better.”, he approves while popping a candy in his mouth. “Want some ?”

“Oh yeah, thanks !”, dropping the small chocolate in your hand, both your attentions are caught by the sound of the door opening. A lady in her mid-thirties enters the room, dyed red hair stopping at her shoulders.

“Miss Jeon, hi !”, you great the lady with a smile, one she easily returns. For the entire year you’ve been there, you don’t think you ever saw her without one tugging her lips.

“Hey, kids !”

Ah, yes. Miss Jeon also insists on calling everyone slightly younger than her “kid”. You don’t mind, though. You notice the rolled up paper in her right hand as she takes the hairband out.

“Doing laundry, eh ?”, she starts out, “Ah, it’s a great thing you two are here. Me and my husband are organizing a little gathering for the building’s anniversary.”

Right, Sangkyu told you about it, you remember. You hear Johnny hum behind you, to what Miss Jeon continues.

“It’ll be Saturday in two weeks ! Johnny, you and your roommate could come and get to know everyone a bit better, yeah ? Though I see you’ve already made friends with our Y/N.” Oh no, there she goes. You love the Jeons, but they’re so, so talkative, and they never know when to stop. They’re like parents taking your old embarrassing pictures out when your friends are over. Your eyes grow wide, a slightly embarrassed chuckle coming out of your lips.

The lady struggles to unwrap the paper, to which Johnny leaves the shirt he was folding to help her out.

“Ah, thank you. You know, Y/N isn’t really that talkative, but I think it’s because we didn’t share a lot in common, and we’re not as young and handsome as you.”

God. Stuck on your chair, wide eyes look at the scene as your neighbor chuckles. “Oh, really ?”, he urges her to continue to your misbelief,  but you quickly understands he’s doing it on purpose, crescent eyes sparkling with amusement as he looks over at you, the young and handsome bit wasn’t necessary but it sure did boost his ego.

Miss Jeon finally unfolds the paper, a big announcement on the anniversary gathering she’s holding. In the park, with the date and hour, you guess you should find an appropriate dress for the event and something to eat to bring.

“Anyways, it’s great having new faces ! You’ll come, right ?”, sticking he paper to the wall, the lady claps her hands, a little joyful jump when Johnny nods.

“Yeah. We’ll go together, yeah ?”

You learn Johnny isn’t only a good looking guy, he’s also a really good friend.

The friendship grows easily, after Miss Jeon left, he helps you out with your clothes while already planning what to bring for the gathering. The brunette tells you he’s better at cooking salty dishes than sugary cakes. You agree on that, it’s one of the many reasons why you buy anything sugary at the coffee shop down the street. Nonetheless, you and your new neighbor decide to challenge yourselves, you propose some French crepes and Johnny agrees on using his kitchen for it, with the help of Ten who’ll surely be here. Surely, the kids living in the buildings would love them and, they aren’t that hard to make.

You two walked to your apartment floor, basket in hand, though Johnny’s ability to carry two at the same time is rather impressive. One on top of the other, you try to be as discreet as possible when your eyes travel down to his arms, flexing, to his ring clapped fingers, gripping at the handles. He doesn’t walk you to your door but, is it really necessary ?

It’s funny how the universe seems so willing to put him on your path.

Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of the men through your window, walking in his room, mindlessly walking back and forth when he’s thinking about a composition, pen taking on his full bottom lip. He seems really concentrated whenever he tries to write something, eyebrows furrowed, whispering quietly to himself. He catches you carelessly dancing to songs late at night under your lights, moving like nobody’s watching, hands in the air as the singer’s angelic voice seems to control your body, silently giggling when you catch his eyes and abruptly stop.

He seems to vaguely have the same schedule as you do, you see him getting ready some days of the weeks, applying cream on his face like the first time you ever caught a glimpse at his sharp features at a distance. And you bump into him in the elevator every other day, both so exhausted with your classes, heavy backpack carelessly throws over your shoulders, so tired you two would rather smile and stay silent in the metal cubicle. You see him with his roommate a few times too, the first time happens to be right in front of their door, both of them carrying two bags of groceries.

Finally, you’re introduced to Ten, a much smaller and a bit thinner guy, though you quickly find out his personality might be as big as Johnny himself. His bright smile and laugh are both extremely contagious, and you also notice for yourself how much he cares about his appearance. Just like Johnny told you when you first saw him in the laundry unit, he wears different outfits like he’s going for a runway every day. Sharp eyes covered under his jet black hair, you can’t help but notice the multiple piercings on his ears.

Funny enough, you catch your new friend at the “Flâner” coffee shop, getting the exact same cake you brought him and some dark coffee, he tells you he got addicted to everything they do but regret not having enough time to sit down and study here.

On top of that, he never stops texting you, you never stop texting him. Conversation flows easily to the point where you sometimes have to pause to type out a response while you’re on the phone with Jaehyun.

Ah, your dear friend Jaehyun. Your blonde friend follows the events like a drama, though you tell him multiple times that “Nothing will happen, we’re just neighbors.”

Are you, though ? You don’t know if neighbors send each other sheet, you and Johnny never stopped, it became easier with his number. You don’t know if neighbors talk to each other by the windows, for so long it leaves marks on both your arms at the end of the night, red dent on your skin. You don’t know if normal neighbors talk to each other that much.

You and Johnny tip toe on the lines between neighbors and friends, the line between friends and…a little more ? The line snaps right before the building’s anniversary.

Thursday, one in the afternoon when the metal doors of your elevator open to your hallway. The sun’s shining, birds singing, your teacher’s car broke down, leaving you with a free day. Truly, the universe was on your side, you thought when you got the text from your classmate. After texting Jaehyun who told you he already went to the mall at your opposite, you decided to use that time to buy some curtains and take a day off your studies. A well deserved day off, you might add.

After searching again and again, you thought it’d be better to get new ones. You remember the old ones got dirty anyways. Plus, it’s not like you want to hide yourself from Johnny, he has some and you figure you should too for some privacy every now and then. A pack of clear curtains in your hands and some cushions in a bag for your living room, you step out of the metal cubicle, only to be greeted by a Johnny standing right in front of your door. Attention caught by the sound, your friend turns around, half expecting to see you and, he looks slightly flustered ? Short eyelashes bat a few times, rosy cheeks as he opens his month just to close it right after.

“Hey, Johnny ?”, you start, completely clueless at first, you don’t notice the white fabric he has in his hand. “Do you need something ?”, you ask, setting down all the new things you bought down, alongside your bag as you fish for your keys inside.

“I-uh…”, he starts. Why is his voice so shaky ? Eyebrows slightly raised, a knee down, you look up at your friend with a curious look. At that, the brunette looks away. Honey eyes diverge to his right as he shifts his body from left to right.

“Johnny ?”, keys in hand, you rise to your feet, slightly turning away to open your door, struggling a little at the last lock.

“We uh, got some clothes mixed up.”, he tells you, pink hue on his cheeks. You take a few seconds to understand, before recalling the meeting in the laundry unit.

“Oh ! I didn’t even notice anything missing.”, you tell him with a laugh, before your smile wavers to a more…stunned expression. The white fabric he’s holding in a hand, you only need a second look to distinguish the lace waistline you know too well. Your panties. He’s holding your panties. God, you didn’t even notice ? You wear these often, you don’t have that much panties. “Oh.”, you say again, with a much different tone. Heat washes over your body, a much deeper shade of pink coloring your cheeks.

Lips dry, you extend your hand down, almost timid to hold your own piece of clothing.

Johnny stays quiet, handing you the white underwear, hand hiding in his pocket right after.

“Erhm, thank you.”, you mumble out, hiding the fabric behind the pack of clear curtains, like he did not have the time to look at it before.

“I’m sorry, I found them in my shirts this morning and I first thought about just leaving them at your door but it would’ve been even more awkward.”, he laughs slightly, hand rubbing at the back of his nape again. You laugh lightly at that, it sure would’ve been even weirder to find your panties in a box in front of your door. Creepier too.

“Would’ve been very Joe-like.”, you tell him with a smile, the atmosphere immediately a lot less tense. You’re thankful for it, it’s clear Johnny didn’t want things to be…weird either. He laughs a little, cheeks high, before noticing your new purchase, especially your curtains.

“Oh, redecorating a bit ?”, his arms cross in front of him, biceps building up, stretching the sleeves of his shirt. “Ah, a little. I just needed new curtains, I forgot where I stored the old ones.”, you tell him, shoulder leaning again your door. “Putting them on was a nightmare.”, you sigh a little, head resting on your door as well. When you first moved in, you had to put the curtains all alone and only remember the ache in your neck and arms.

“…Was it ?”, he asks with a sly smile, eyebrows lightly furrowed like he’s questioning your experience.

“Some of us aren’t blessing with your height, Johnny.”, you tell him with a fakely annoyed glare, “I almost fell down and broke my back.”. You dramatize with a pout on your lip, to which Johnny only smirks lightly.

“Need some help ?”, Johnny finally, head tilting to the side. “I don’t want you breaking your back.” Yet, Johnny thinks.

“Ah, please !”, no need for him to propose a second time, you’d take anyone to help you with these demons any day, let alone someone like Johnny. One hand turns your door handle, proceeding to push it with your body. “Welcome to my humble home.”

Johnny lightly chuckles at your antics, curious eyes scanning over your apartment. It’s always weird to see an apartment so similar to yours yet so different, he hums at the sent of the light incense you blow out right before leaving. Sliding your shoes off, your friend follows quickly after, though he takes them with one hand to neatly store them right next to your door.

“It’s really pretty.”, he hums behind you as you walk towards your living room, letting the back full of cushions on your table. Smiling brightly as his compliment, you have to say you were pretty proud of your decorating skills. You took multiple months to pile everything you wanted up and, after a year, all your plants grew green and luscious.

“Thank you very much !”, hands gathering your hair, you quickly attach them with a hairband you always have on your wrist. “Do you want something to drink ?”

“Hm, maybe later ! Let’s start with these nightmare curtains first.”

“Alright, let me just get the stool.”, and on that, you take a second to remember exactly where you stored it before quickly jogging to the small closet near your entrance door. You don’t remember the last time you used it, you take a few seconds to take the cold iron object out of its hiding place, one foot stuck in a random box you still have there. You finally pull the object with a sharp tug and not without a small sound of struggle. Johnny is quick to grab into the heavy object and lets you take care of the pack you just bought. For the few seconds you take to move from your living room to your bedroom, you pray you didn’t leave anything too embarrassing there, you really didn’t think you’d have Johnny over today. But thankfully, when you open your bedroom door, the only think you left on your bed’s your pyjamas or rather, shirt you sleep in you didn’t fold the morning.

“So that’s the room.”, Johnny notices softly, the very room he seems fragments of from his own. Curious eyes look over your desk and the multiple things you sticked right above it, before they travel to the side he definitely never saw from his window. Denty fingers gaze at your guitar’s neck like he’s afraid of touching it without your permission, though it’s definitely clear you don not mind.

“It is ! Is it weird seeing it entirely ?”,  you joke a bit around as you sit the pack down on your desk. Scissors you leave on your desk are used to cleanly open the transparent protection as Johnny opens the stool and places it where he desires. “Really weird, I’m used to…this.”, he jokes too, thumbs and pointers digits forming a frame in front of his eyes. “And that’s what you see. My room looks so empty from here.”, Johnny notes, leaning a little in front of your window.

“It looks like you only have a bed and a piano in there.”, you tease him.

“I don’t ! I spent two entire days decorating it ! I’ll show you next time.”, he promises and somehow, it has the power to make your lips part a little, heat slightly burning your cheeks. The brunette doesn’t notice though, and immediately starts helping you out with your curtains.

Or rather, you help him. Johnny does most of the work on your curtains and you won’t complain. The men takes things into his hands, stepping onto the stool. Where you needed to climb the four steps, Johnny barely needs to climb two, body barely needing the extra height. His hands work quickly to detach the metal bar on each side, fingers twisting at the sides. When the black bar is finally off, he hands it to you so you can work on the hoops and slide the curtains in, which you do quickly.

As easily as he took it out, Johnny slides the metal bar back in before screwing each side in. From this angle, his jaw looks even more sharp, eyes focused never leave his work. He looks even more intimidating, especially when his eyes look down at you and you have to dodge eye contact. “Much easier like that.”, you say, almost dumbfounded at how easily he just did…that. Johnny laughs with the breathy giggle you’re starting to get used to. “See, only took a few minutes at best.”, Johnny says while stepping off the stool, hand lightly touching the curtains.

“Wait, let me throw this away.”, you mumble out, picking the packaging in your hands. Again, Johnny isn’t slow to follow, telling you he’ll help you with your stool. The young men follows you quickly, easily finding the small closet you store anything and everything in once you point it with your index. From your small kitchen, the sound of the stool being pushed inside and the door closing is followed by Johnny’s joyful “Done !”.

“What do you want to drink ?”, you finally ask when the brunette sits down right in front of your kitchen counter. Elbows on the cold grey material, he stares for way too long at the two choices you offer him. Tropical juice in your right hand, still unopened bottle of some bubbly beverage in the other, your friend acts like it’s a life or death decision. “C’mon ooon.”, you laugh out, arms getting tired at the way you’re holding the heavy bottles.

Finally, the brunette points your right hand with an index.

“Oh, you’re a slytherin ?”, he asks when you open your cupboard. Glasses on the bottom and mugs at the top, you look up at the same exact mug he noticed. Right in the middle, the grey and green logo is a clear statement on your Hogwarts house.

“Yes, a very proud slytherin.”, you tell him while setting the two tall glasses on the counter, pouring equal amounts of juice into them. “Let me guess, Gryffindor ?”, you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“I actually never took the test.”, Johnny says, to which you dramatically gasp. “And I never watched the movies. One of my friend’s just a really proud slytherin as well, I bought so many slytherin themed gifts that I just can recognize the logo right away.”

Double gasp, you set your glass down, eyes growing wide as you’re trying to judge if he’s actually joking or not. You found he definitely isn’t, but he does find your reaction quite funny. His laughs resonates into his glass, liquid half drowned.

“Are you for real ?”, you ask him just to make sure, and your neighbor just nods.

“A hundred percent, I just never really had the chance to watch it.”, poking his tongue out, pink muscle collects the drop of juice threatening to fall down.

“In 2020 ?”, you’re dumbfounded, you never thought someone could actually go so long without watching it. “You have to watch it.”

“I will. One day. Maybe.”, Johnny teases, eyes falsely rolling back.

“Now.”, you tell him, a certain sense of urgency in your voice. “I won’t let you get out of my house uneducated, young sir.”, you tell him before looking through another cupboard, hand pushing some unopened chips bag and opened for too long biscuits. Finally, your hand find the flat package you were looking for, proudly taking out for Johnny to say right after checking for the expiration date. “I have popcorn.”

How can Johnny refuse ? How can he, who he has to say, already has a soft spot for you, say no to such a proposition ? Not when your clutching the said uncooked popcorn bag against your chest, slight pout he’d probably kiss away on your lips. Wait, what. Johnny understands he’s utterly fucked once he agrees after a very short time thinking, he’s fucked because he knows the more time he spends with you, the more he’s probably going to fall. You, on the other hand, only understand what you did once Johnny comfortably takes place on your coach. You’re unaware of it, but you have the same exact soft spot, the same small butterflies whenever music is heard from the other’s bedroom, the same tiny smile creeping up whenever one sends a song recommendation, the same tingly feeling in the middle of your chest whenever one catches a glimpse of the other.

Another thing the two of you have in common, you two have some impressive actor abilities, if Johnny acts cool and unbothered, totally not lowkey stressed and watched over by adrenaline at this very moment, you can do the exact same.

Has his thighs always been so…Muscular ? Firm ? Your eyes quickly move away when you catch the train of your thoughts, looking into your bowl like it’s most interesting thing ever as you pour down the hot popcorn. Picking one up, you pop in into your mouth, unconsciously trying to distract your thoughts. This brand’s popcorn really good, right amount of caramel on each piece, you wonder what hickeys look like on Johnny’s caramel skin.

Fuck, bravo. Way to go. It’s his jeans, you blame it on his jeans and how they seem to perfectly hug his legs as he spreads them on your coach, one arm right behind it as he scrolls on his phone with the other.

If the brunette’s thumb is scrolling ever so slowly on his twitter timeline, his mind isn’t really able to read the small tweets at this very moment, not when you set the bowl full of popcorn down on the table before dropping on your knees in front of your tv. Why does he have to see everything in such a way, Johnny quickly blinks and tries to get his attention back on his phone but what can he do when you’re right in the background, in the peripherical vision.

He sees you looking for the movie in the pile of CDs and games you have, before finally finding the very first Harry Potter, a triumphant “Ah-ha !”, coming out of your lips.

“You’ll love it.”, you tell Johnny once you place the CD in the CD player, something you haven’t done in actual months, seating down right next to him. You’re some what grateful you only own one single sofa that’s enough for two people and a bowl full of popcorn right in between.

“Wait, is that how Cedric dies ?”, Johnny’s mouth hangs open at the young actor laying seemingly lifeless on the grass after a fatal spell, a gag sound coming out of your friend’s lips when Voldemort’s bare feet comes in contact with the Hufflepuf’s face. “I hate this shot.”, you tell him, slightly disgusted at the scene, before you yawn loudly against your hand. The glass you refilled many time is now empty, you leave it right next to the empty pizza box Johnny insisted on buying.

It’s midnight, you can barely process the hour it is, not how long you stayed by Johnny’s side to the point where you’re curled up next to him under the blanket you two are sharing. At the end of the first movie, you were happy to see a pretty speechless and invested Johnny, it was still pretty early, around four and a half in the afternoon and you both agreed to watch the second. At the end of the second, he offered to buy pizza and something to drink while you popped the third movie. Let’s just say Johnny got a bit excited when you said the four movie was your favorite and midnight being still a bit early for two students, you agreed on watching a last one.

“So, what do you think ?”, you ask once the credits starts rolling, lazy smile stretching your features. Your tall friend flops off the coach, letting his body slowly fall on the ground to grab his phone charging. “This one’s definitely the best, I mean, the whole Marauders thing ? Love it.”, he tells you, head resting on the sofa you’re still on. “I wanna know what my house is now.”, he mumbles while unlocking his phone, searching the right quizz.

“Wait, wait. Let me read the questions !”, you tell him, hand stretching to get his phone, and the brunette gives it to you without hesitation. You, who took the exact same official test four times, are familiar with questions and ask them one by one. Day or night, forest or beach side, Johnny thinks about his answers before. Familiar animation before the sorting hat reveals his pick, you hide the phone with a hand. “Guess.”, you tell him after looking at the result, results you would’ve easily guessed.

“Gryffindor ?”, he asks with a slight bit of doubt in his voice.

“Gryffindor !”, you tell him with a dramatic shout, mimic the sorting hat’s. His head rolls back with a grown, eyes screwed shut even though he has a smile stretching his full lips.

“Ah-! I lowkey wanted to be a Slytherin.”, he tells you, big puppy like eyes looking at you from below.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, slightly surprised. You had to say Johnny was more of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin.

“Yeah, I wanted us to match.”

Full lips out in a pout, it’s your turn to think about kissing it away.

You understand you’re fucked when Johnny helps you out in cleaning your living room, washing your glasses while you dry your plates and bowl. He understands he’s fucked again when you hum a song he’s familiar with but can’t put his finger on the name. You both are fucked when he slides right behind you to set your glasses in your cupboard, chest brushing against your back. It feels strangely domestic, comfortable and…Normal ? A soft “Be careful”, comes out of his mouth and his breath moves a few pieces of your hair, arms stretching up to carefully place the glasses he just washed. It’s your turn to walk him to his door, where you two understand Ten’s already fast asleep, loud snores coming out of one of the rooms.

How strange it is, people say time alters in airports, empty trains stations and others. Time alters in front of Johnny’s door. He leans against his door frame like the first time you two met, lazy eyes looking down at you as you stretch a bit more.

“It was fun.”, he tells you quietly, tired smile stretching your lips. You return it, sighing as your muscle wake up.

“Yeah, glad I got you into Harry Potter.”, you tease him a bit, “Might have to buy you some Gryffindor themed things.”

“Ten’s gonna lose it when he learns he wasn’t the one to get me to watch it.”, you frown at that, head tilting to the side.

“Wait, he tried ?”

“Yeah, but he never sold it like you did.”, he hums and for a moment, it seems his mind isn’t really where his words are. Honey eyes drop for a quick second to your lips, but he regains his thoughts as quickly.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill me, isn’t he ?”, you joke a bit, though you’re surprised you managed to get Johnny into the saga quickly when he told you before that him and Ten knew each other for years. The brunette’s laugh is breathy, controlled so he doesn’t wake up his roommate who’ll probably kill him right before killing you. “If he finds out, totally. We don’t have to tell him, though.”, and, did his voice just drop even lower ? You didn’t think it was possible, the man’s voice is already deep but right now, in the dead of the night, it almost seems sultry.

“Oh wow, having our secrets already ?”, you breath out, biting a laugh down on your bottom lip. It does it for Johnny, his attention was already on them right before but, his slightly clouded mind could not really help himself. He doesn’t take his eyes away, not even when your mouth slightly parts at the realization. Only then do you wonder if it is mutual, your breath alters for a second, just when the taller let’s a simple “Yeah” tumble from his lips.

He leans down, or at least, you think he does. A millimeter, maybe you dreamt it, maybe he was going to hug you, a millisecond, a third voice gets heard from the deeps of the apartment.

“Johnny ? Turn the fucking light off.”

“Y/N-ah, Y/N !”, Sangkyu sings the moment you step foot in your building with your grocery bag. You guess quickly it’s because of tomorrow’s gathering, the old men always loved a reason to party, with moderation obviously.

“Hi ! You seem particularly happy today.”, you tell him, stopping in front of his cubicle, you notice he added another drawing to his wall, probably the kids on the first floor.

“I am ! We finished making the cakes a few hours ago and they are de-li-cious.”, his eyes disappear as he smiles brightly, you decided you love this man with all your being.

“Ah, I can’t wait to taste them !”, you hum, switch your bag from your left hand to your right. Even without knowing what him and his wife did, you can at least guess without a doubt that it is going to be as delicious as he says it is.

“Just a day ! What are you making ?”

“French crêpes !”, you tell him while lifting your bag, proud smile at your pronunciation, you just went and bought some milk and flour for it right after leaving your university, Johnny told you he had everything else.

“Ah, yes, with our new neighbors, hm ?”, he starts, smile turning vicious and oh, you know where he’s going. You wonder if Jaehyun and him are working hand in hand. Let’s just say Jaehyun did not drop the subject, not when he learned you accidently ignored his texts the other night because of a movie night with the brunette. Not when you told him you think Johnny almost kissed you. Or hugged you.

“Yes.”, you tell him simply, not going any further. You hope he will drop the subject, but you know he probably won’t.

“We hear you two playing, but you should both play something together.”, Sangkyu tells you, not taking the hint or maybe, he decided to ignore it. But he is not wrong, you two should play something together. You have to say, you didn’t know your playing was so loud but if no one ever complained, it was a good thing, right ?

“We should.”, you tell him with a smile, ready to go towards the elevator, his voice stops you a second time.

“Do you like him ?”, he suddenly asks. God, he really is acting like a father who also wants to be a friend. You suddenly stop right in your track, hand turning towards the oldest.

“Who ?”, you ask dumbly, but Sangkyu isn’t one to take your fake attitude.

“Johnny.”, he tells you straight forward and a bit too loudly, arms leaning against his counter with a too happy smile.

“Sangkyun…”, you whine, quiet in case anyone walks in.

“Y/N-ah…!”, he mocks the tone of your voice and you whine even more.

“Come on, you can tell me.”, you says, you know he won’t ever let you go and even if he does, he’ll draw his own flowed conclusions, better tell him already.

“Maybe, yes.”, you tell the oldest before walking a bit too quickly towards your elevator, index jamming into the up button.

“I knew it !” and, when you hide yourself in the metal cubicle, you see your old friend making a few happy dance moves with his arms, you wonder if you’re seeing Jaehyun in the future.

“Alright, how’s this ?”, you ask Jaehyun after stepping right in front of your phone. You’re actually video chatting with your blonde friend, but you can barely see half of his face, he decided to hold his phone so close you could only see from his hairline to the bridge of his nose.

“Turn around.”, he says, breath overloading his device’s microphone. You do so anyways, showing him the outfit you decided to wear for tonight. Obviously, it was just a small gathering between neighbors, you didn’t have to go all in with a cocktail dress but, a nice and pretty one was expected. Following your friend’s order, you turn to show off a black, thin strapped, body hugging dress you got a year ago and yet, never wore.

“Is that your mom’s jacket ?”, Jaehyun asks, chewing on what you think is a handful of chips. You hum at the question, you’re indeed wearing the oversized jean jacket you mother used to wear when she was in college. “The dress looks hot, when did you buy it ?”

“Eh, last year ? Around the middle of the summer.”, you tell your friend, stepping out of your phone’s camera to search for your earrings. “Wait, you never wore it, right ?” “Nope.”, from a distance, you can hear Jaehyun mumbling something about you having too many clothes. Maybe he’s right, but you brush the remark anyways, taking your rings.

“How’s my makeup ?”, you ask, kneeling in front of your phone, you step closer to let the blonde have a closer look at your eyes makeup. “You know I don’t know shit about makeup !”, he complains, finally letting you see his face as he moves his phone. “Jaehyun, does it look good ?”, you ask him, acting annoyed at his antics.

“Yes, you look good.”, he says, voice somewhat a high pitched tone as he snaps a picture once you stand up again. “If lover boy doesn’t kiss you tonight.” Small smile stretches your lips at the compliment, you decide to brush the second sentence off, applying some lipstick before checking your watch.

“And you’re telling me he acted like nothing happened ?”, Jaehyun asks, sound of the chips bag covering his voice. You sigh at that, eyes rolling a little, you think no matter how many times you’ll tell him, he’ll keep asking. “He did. I mean, his roommate was there so, he couldn’t really…Y’know ?”

A quick glance at the bag you’re supposed to bring down to the gathering starting in fifteen minutes, it holds the dozens of crêpes you, Johnny and Ten made a bit earlier. Just like it was planned before hand, you showed up after class to their apartment, Ten was the one who opened the door. Apparently, Johnny was a bit late, his teacher’s lecture went on for a bit longer than anticipated and when he showed up, he immediately helped with the batter. The brunette greeted you like he usually would and acted like nothing happened the night before, though you don’t blame him, not when his roommate was between the two of you half of the time. You had to bring your own pan after realizing how many crêpes you’d actually make and, after about two hours, you left to get ready. Let’s just say Jaehyun was not happy with the lack of exciting events. You weren’t either, but you still somehow hoped something would happen tonight, somewhere deep in your thoughts. However, you didn’t want to think too much about it, tonight was a gathering to celebrate and have fun, you didn’t want to overthink what happened the night prior.

“Anyways, I have to go.”, you finally tell you friend, who simply tells you to enjoy yourself and text him after before hanging up.

Heavy bag of crêpes in your hand, you slide out of your apartment after spraying some perfume on your neck. Locking your door, your neighbors are quick to follow as you agreed to go together and, fuck.

He looks hot, Johnny looks hot. There’s a slight second where you stay silent and take in his figure, legs hugged by a tight pair of black jeans, cotton white blouse slightly open on his caramel chest, the golden hour isn’t even here and yet, the slight bit of sun hitting his skin makes him glow. You know, you know he caught you staring and yet he stays silent, slight smirk tugging a side of his full lips.

“Y/N, Ma’am !”, Ten’s voice drags you out of you reverie. The men takes a step closer, you notice the very pricy Yves Saint Laurent grey and white top he’s wearing. “You look fucking good ! Right ?”, it seemed the men only needed a few hours to get familiar with you, but you don’t complain and smile at the compliment.

“You do, you look amazing.”, if Ten managed to make you smile brightly at his antics, Johnny’s low voice only makes you blush and your eyes waver a bit, not knowing where to look, almost unable to keep eye contact with the tallest. “Thank you. I-, hm, you too.”

Great.

“Thank you. Let’s get going, I don’t want to be late.”, thankfully, he doesn’t say more, hand grabbing onto his own bag where you assume he has the chocolate and strawberry spread.

“Wait, what about me ?”, his roommate asks, acting so offended you wonder if he isn’t actually hurt by the lack of compliment you and his roommate showed. The smallest frowns, angry glare at Johnny who doesn’t even notice him as he went towards the elevator to call for the metal box.

“This shirt looks amazing on you, very pricy too.”, you tell your neighbor with a laugh, stepping right behind the tallest, waiting.

“And I already told you it looked good.”, he says, right before stepping in the elevator.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, the black haired says your name a bit louder, but you don’t pay too much attention either.

Poor thing, if you and Johnny aren’t aware yet of the tension, Ten sure is, and he hates every bit of it when he understands, stuck in an elevator where he’s the third wheel. By the way, has your elevator always been so small ? Your back leans against one wall as Johnny does the same right in front of you, honey eyes traveling from your eyes to your uncovered collarbones. The brunettes tries, he really tries to stop his eyes from traveling down but they do eventually, swallowing built up saliva when his pupils travel down your hips, to your naked legs.

Ten’s almost about to say something, just to break the thick silence before the doors opening saves the young men, he decides he definitely is not going to stay with the two of you tonight.

You, on the other side, seem to finally be able to breathe once you step out the elevator, Johnny’s attention did not go unnoticed. Try and act normal, probably the only thing going on your mind and Johnny’s.

“Hey, look who it is !”, Miss Jeon’s voice is heard before you can even see her. You’re familiar with the park the gathering is taking place in, but it sure looks amazing in the late afternoon. At this time of the year, the grass’ green, flowers bloomed, small fruits are starting to turn red under the summer sunlight. Even better, the water fountains are on, the one right in the middle is large, tall, multicolor lights when the moon shines. Finally, when you and your two friends turn the corner to enter the park, you’re physically greeted by Miss Jeon who’s wearing a really pretty pen skirt, hair flowing in the soft summer wind. “Miss Jeon !”, you greet her with a smile which isn’t enough for the lady who pulls you into a hug. One hand grabs yours and the tallest makes you swirl around, a high pitched “Wow ! Look at you !”, coming out of her lips.

“You look amazing, darling. You two, too.”, as always, the lady is extremely cheerful. You notice hers and other neighbors’ kids already playing around in the park, loud screams every now and then. A bit closer to the fountain, multicolor light are hanging from the threes, you can faintly distinguish a song playing. Large tables are set there, alongside chairs were parents and others are all talking together, setting whatever they bought.

“Go set everything there, we’ll start eating soon.”, Miss Jeon instructs, and you follow her orders as she stays in front of the park to greet anyone coming.

Everything is quickly set up where all the deserts are, neighbors come until you they flood the park, you almost think everyone’s here. “I did not expect so many people.”, Johnny tells you, taking a plastic cup to get himself some juice right before giving you a cup.

“Me neither.”, you tell him, eyes glazing over the last people walking in. Almost everyone responded to the call, a pretty heart warming sigh. Some of your neighbors you never actually talked to are here, mostly because they’re from other buildings from the same project.

“I see Ten is already making friends.”, you continue, eyes catching your friend talking to another neighbor, one you think is in his early thirties, you’ve talked to him once, maybe.

“Ten is a social butterfly.”, Johnny laughs into his cup, before eventually taking a step forward toward the black haired. If his roommate was going to socialize, he might as well too.

“I think it is overrated.”, ah yes, now you remember why you did not much to this guy. James is a foreign, blonde, man bun type of guy who finds everything overrated, it’s almost impossible to talk about your hobbies and interests with him without being ripped apart. He probably isn’t that mean just, not that good at social interaction. You see Ten’s expression turning from excited to somewhat confused, to what you intervene.

“What is ?”, you ask, and you don’t really like when the blonde acts like he did not notice you and Johnny walking.

“Oh, Y/N, hi. Long time no see.”, he says, not paying any attention to Johnny. You greet him anyways, slightly taken back by his attitude. “And you are ?”

“Johnny.”, the men behind you says, stretching a hand out to shake his.

“Oh, strong grip.”, slight contortion of the blond’s face, he quickly retracts his hand when Johnny lets go.

“Anyways, when are you letting me see you play ?”, James ask and oh, how you have to search in your memory to understand what the fuck he’s talking about. The blonde wants to learn how to play the guitar, that was, maybe eight months ago.

“Oh eh. One day, maybe.”, you awkwardly laugh.

“We hear you play every night, don’t say you don’t have time for me !”, he tries and laugh off the sentence. Ten shifts, poor thing seems taken back but thankfully, Johnny’s quick to react. As you’re about to respond, his hand slides on your waist, “I’m pretty busy with uni’, but I can send you some great guitarists’ videos.”, you choke out, mind slightly bugging at the brunette’s touch.

“She’ll let you know when she has time for you.”, the tallest does not hesitate and, it visibly annoys the blonde. A sharp “Okay .”, tumbles from his lips before he leaves towards the salty foods.

“He’s weird.”, Ten finally says, Johnny doesn’t take his hand away.

It takes hours for Johnny to address it again.

The midnight breeze always feels special, soft, fresh, it licks the thin layer of sweat the bolt sun created on your skin. Your jacket’s off your shoulders, loosely hanging on the crook of your elbows, seating on the cold marble of the fountain.

Soft sound of the water running behind you, all the kids have been sent to sleep, alongside their parents and other hard working adults needing of sleep, just the low sound of some jazz music you’re unfamiliar with and some chatter as the background noise.

You shoes kick off some small rocks and sand, eyes looking up at the multicolor lights still hanging on the trees. You laugh off one of Johnny’s joke, before he gets serious again, his left hand lightly touching the fountain’s water.

“By the way, sorry about earlier. I didn’t ask if I could touch you like that.”

You have to think for a slight second to understand what he’s talking about, hand grabbing onto the bowl of ice cream you set aside for yourself. Your spoon digs into the chocolate cream, taking a fair amount of whipped cream.

“Oh ! Oh, no. Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind.”, I liked it, you would’ve said if you were a little bit more brave. Spoon in your mouth, you eagerly gulp down the frozen desert, Johnny only softly smiles.

“Is he always like that ?”, he asks, body turning a bit more to face you. He’s close, really close, but it became normal. It became normal for him to have your naked thigh against his, you shamelessly look down at it for god knows how many times tonight. It became normal for you to almost be able to feel his breath die on your skin.

“I don’t know, tonight was the second time I ever talked to him.”, you tell him, tongue quickly cleaning the tiny drop of ice cream forming at the corner of your lips. Johnny stays silent for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, before its feels like he shakes his thoughts away. His gaze stays fixated on your eyes so confidently it’s even worst than him looking at your lips, you shift under his pupils, crossing a leg over the other.

“He seems really pushy.”, Johnny breathes out, and he finds the exact same octave he was speaking to you in just last night, right in front of his apartment. It’s clear he only is replying for politeness.

“You have hm, some ice cream, here.”, the brunette hums, again ripping you out of your reverie. Left hand covers your mouth, index and middle finger brushing at the corner but it seems you are not picking the right side.

“Wait, no-.”, he laughs for a quick second, crescent eyes before they shift to something else. His thumb quickly wipes the other side of your lips, and you freeze. You lock dead in your position, eyes slightly larger as he helps you clean up with a soft yet deep “There you go.”

For hours now, Johnny had been the only thing on your mind. From the moment he stepped out of his apartment, the moment his eyes seemed to devour every bit of your body, the moment he left is hand lingering on the small of your waist. To the moment he sat down to eat, legs, strong thighs spread, the moment he talked to the smallest kids from the second building, the moment he lead you behind the fountain with a hand in the small of your back.

But, when Johnny lets his lips capture the tip of his thumb, cleaning the bit of ice cream, you think you might never be able to think about anything else but him, but Johnny.

You have to look away, desperately trying to gather your thoughts, something you can’t do when the brunette’s looking at you with such innocent eyes.

“You okay ?”, he asks like he didn’t do anything, like he did not just do that.

“Yeah, I-.”, you have to leave you plastic bowl somewhere behind you, brain fuming to find something else to say.

“You’re blushing. You had the same look yesterday.”, he notes, and…He knows ? He knew before you did, that’s what his slight smirk tells you. “It’s a shame Ten had to ruin it, but I like this setting better.”, Johnny hums, but he never takes his eyes away.

“Could’ve kissed me anyways.”, you dare to say. Your mouth goes dry, for some reason, biting down on your bottom lip. The brunette comes a little closer, and just like last time, you can't help but get lost in his irises, notice the way his eyes curl at their inner corner, now how his pupils slowly eclipses the soft brown of his eyes.

Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, his lines a bit closer again, hand sliding under your chin. You stop breathing for a second, eyelids involuntarily growing heavy.

“Did I miss my shot ?”, you can almost feel him mouth the words.

“Maybe, but I can give you another one.”, you manage to tease, face tilting to the side before he even does anything. If he doesn't do it himself, you'll break the distance, but he holds you in the palm of his hand, so hypnotise under his spell you can only anticipate his next move.

“Good, would've hated myself for missing it.”, he says and, as you hoped, the brunette finally lets his lips crash against yours. It's soft, a kiss to taste the water, though he himself taste the chocolate you just ate.

Pillows lips slowly starts moving against yours, you easily follow his rhythm, sighing when his hand moves from your chin to your neck, deepening the exchange.

Your hand easily finds his hair, finally letter your fingers grasp onto the soft locks. It's a soft grip, yet Johnny sighs softly against your lips, sound turning into a slight groan once you bite down on his bottom lip.

That does it for him, the kiss quickly turns needy, desperate, he touches where he can, second hand lightly running up your thigh.

Arms wrap behind his neck to keep him close, body leaning backwards, Johnny has to plant a hand on the marble behind you, second hand wrapping behind your waist.

The brunette doesn't hesitate a second more, like he's afraid of letting go of the moment, afraid you're gonna slip away between his fingers like the clear water of the fountain. Pick tongue laps at your bottom lip, you part them without a moment of hesitation. It's eager, rushed, the taste of the desert you just ate still lingers on your tongue while you get the fruity drink he was sipping on moments before.

Finally, when you have to let go for some air, breathing altered by the exchange, Johnny doesn't let go. Long kisses are planted at the corner of your lips, he takes his time until he travels down to your jaw where you stop him.

And, before he can ask you anything, you quickly grab his hand in yours, “Let's go inside.”

He follows quickly behind, leaving everything behind, you take the second gate of the park. Shorter, you also don't have to walk in front of all your remaining neighbors like this, lips swollen, eyes blown.

You don't think you've ever walked so fast to your apartment, you don't think you've ever been so happy to see Sangkyu's spot vacant.

The silence is heavy, breath still uneven when you push the button of the elevator and the doors open immediately.

If you didn't know the men behind you was as desperate as you were, you definitely understand once he pushed you inside the small cubicle.

He blindly pushes the button to your shared floor, right hand wrapping around your throat to swiftly push you against the cold wall. If he doesn't tighten his grip, you sure wish he did, but you have other things to care about at the moment. The hand previously around your neck plants itself right next to your hand and this time, he has to lean down to capture your lips another time.

Completely pinning your body to the cold metal, he uses his hips against yours, a gasp escaping your lips he uses to slip his tongue between your lips again. And, you let a breathy moan come out of your lips when he pushes his hips flush against your, hard on pressing against your body. Even with the two layers, you can feel him.

You never felt so hot inside this elevator, it moves without stopping at any floor, no music as the silence is filled by your soft breaths and the sound of his mouth against yours.

Beat washes over you, if your panties weren't ruined already, they sure are now. Now that the brunette rolls his hips, slowly, tentatively slow, just to make you feel every inch. Your mind's clouded, body reacting by itself when it archs away from the wall.

He lets his forearm rest against the metal wall, about to travel down to your neck, hips grinding against yours.

When he's about to bite down on the skin of yours neck, teeth grazing over the flesh, the doors open to your floor.

It's Johnny's turn to grab onto your hand, pulling you out of the elevator but he never stays too long away from your body.

Full lips pepper kisses on your face, before he breathes out against your skin.

“Your apartment, yeah ?”

Obviously, you want to tell him, naturally walking towards your door.

“Unless you want your roommate to walk in on us.”, you let a breathy giggle out, facing your door.

Fuck, now out of all times, you can not find your keys. Maybe it's because your shaky hands can barely search your pockets. Hard to blame yourself when the brunette stands behind you, hard cock pressed against you, arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, face buried in your neck.

“Baby, they're here.”, the tallest hums, voice so low it vibrates against your skin. His right hands pats one of your front pockets. A simple “Oh.” tumbles from your lips at that, mind hardly registering the way he still his moving against your body, nickname rolling out of his tongue too easily.

Finally, you manage to force your key into your door, quickly twisting the metal piece before you push the door open.

This time, you don't know if you pull Johnny in your apartment or if he pushes you in, the door is loudly shut before the men tries to take your near your coach, as you drop your jacket off somewhere.

“Johnny.”, you try to whine, but it comes out as a breathy moan as the men soflty sucks on the skin between your neck and shoulder, a pale purple petal blooming. His name coming from your lips sounds oh so delicious, Johnny decides he loves the way it sounds, determined to hear it again and again, louder and louder. “Let me at least close the door.”

When he lets you do so, not whitout a pout on his lips, they find yours again in a desperate kiss, hands grabbing the back of your thighs.

“This dress looks so fucking good on you.”, he growls once you let him pick you up, black fabric riding up your thighs.

“Got dressed up for you.”, you confess, your own lips traveling down his neck when the brunette sits down on your coach. He chuckles lowly, head rolling back, humming at the small attentions you're giving him. “Hm, saw you putting your makeup on and knew you'd look ravishing.”, he says.

Large hands on your hips, Johnny easily pushes your hips down on his thigh.

“Wow, I'll make sure to pull my curtains next time.”, you tease, blooming flowers on his collarbones.

“Give me a fucking show next time.”, he growls out, hand ghosting over your neck before his thumb traces your bottom lip again.

You almost freeze, mere thought of following his oder the next time you catch him in front of his window a little bit too appealing. Having him so close yet, too far to feel his touch, you already felt it for days.

“Come on, ride my thigh.”, you moan out.

Forceful hands help you find a rhythm, one you easily follow once your thoughts get over your dizzy mind. You mouth hands open, hands grabbing onto his arms at the sudden gesture. Johnny only smirks, an eyebrow arching up.

If he didn't before, he sure does look like a god at this very moment. Blown out pupil look directly into your eyes, honey color you know so well eclipsed. Swollen, red lips, a hue painted over his cheeks, small love bites trialing down. Soft brown hair messy by your hands.

“What ? You think I didn't see you glaring ?”, there's a slight mocking tone in his voice, slight embarrassment washing over you but your body follows his voice anyways. Strong thigh under your core, you can barely gather words to reply, it's even harder when he flexs his muscles under you.

Your hips rocks back and forth, delicious pressure against your nub but you need more, more than just his thigh. He has everything to offer and if you don't get it now, you might go crazy.

And so, you tell him. “Johnny, need more.”, your voice sure sounded a lot less weak but the men obliges.

“Impatient little thing.”, he gestures towards your room, and when think you might not be able to walk all the way there without him pushing you against another wall, you surprisingly do.

When you turn around and crawl up your bed, Johnny's quick to follow, hands gripping onto the fabric covering his back before he pulls it over his head.

Defined abs under his caramel skin, strong arms holding himself up, you need a moment to take everything in, hands running down his chest when he hover over your body.

“Take it off.”, he demands, voice almost strict. Leg over his hip, you barely use any force to change positions.

You sit on his lap a second time, supporting yourself on your knees to take off your dress. The brunette uses his elbows, mouth parting when you pull the fabric over your hips. He barely needs any support to sit up, hands grasping the black dress to help you take the fabric off entirely.

The brunette mumbles praises into your skin, lips ghosting over your neck, hands touching wherever they can. Desperate, he maps your body, learning every curve, every inch.

“So beautiful.”, he mumbles out, before his right hand traces the line of your panties.

They're soaked, wet patch on his black jeans and he doesn't fail to notice.

“Already so wet, hm ? Fuck, can I ?”, he doesn't hesitate once you give him your verbal permission, a finger running over your folds over the light fabric.

What a simple touch can do to you, you don't doubt the men doing it also has a huge part in it, but you shiver under the slight attention.

Biting down on his bottom lip, ring clapped hand dips into your panties, where his index and middle finger gather your juices, humming contently.

You're about to complain again, ask him to do something already but he beats you at it, both fingers effortlessly sliding between your lower lips.

“Fuck, ah— Johnny.”, hands gripping his shoulders, your eyes screw shut once he finds a slow and torturing pace, moving in and out as his thumb brushes over your bud.

It's sensual, burning, one hand travels down his chest until you're met with his jeans, quickly working on them once he nods.

You curse his tight jeans for a moment before he helps you push the fabric just enough, alongside his grey briefs.

And fuck, he's big. You knew when he grinded against your inner thigh, but the way his cock slaps against his stomach, head red and hungry, has your mouth parting, core clenching against his fingers.

“Shit, yeah. Good girl, right there.”, Johnny loses himself in praises, head rushing with thoughts he groans out once your hand wraps around his length.

It's probably the honest thing you've ever seen, Johnny's head rolls back, it hits the wall of your bedroom, Adam's appel bobbing up and down. The pace of his fingers matches the rhythm of your hand around his cock, eyes slightly opening just to watch your slender fingers around him and the way you take his.

“You're so fucking tight, god.”, a third finger goes alongside and you have to pose, jaw hanging open and the brunette can not resist.

His mouth finds yours again, kisses deep, messy, hurried. It's like his starving, he growl against your mouth when your thumb runs over his slit and your hips move against his fingers.

“Fuck, wanna taste you.”, he flips you over too easily, a gasp coming out of your lips when you back harshly hits your bed.

Strong hands gripping at your panties, your hear the sharp snap of the elastic breaking under his soaked fingers.

“Johnny !”, it's between a whine and a moan, how can him ruining your panties be so fucking hot.

“Will get you new ones if you want.”, you can barely recognise his voice, his fingers slide the fabric down and he looks up at you, eyes hungry, lips red.

“You have no fucking idea how hard I was when I found your panties.”, he confesses and, before you can reply, his mouth dives in. Tongue flat against your core, your legs instinctively close around his head, but his hands are quick to pin your thighs to the mattress while yours find his hair, messing it even more.

“Yeah ? Fuck, you're so good, your tongue feels so good.”

Johnny only hums, tongue running up and down until he wraps his lips around your button of nerves. The brunette's eating you out like a starved men, shamelessly, the wet sounds filling the room.

When he takes a break to breathe, he pops his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them.

“Taste so good.”, every word he says fires your body up even more, his mouth doesn't even need to speak for it to affect you, but you need him.

He dives a second time, fingers joining this time. Pace a lot less slow, his lips wrap around your bud a second time, focusing on the small button while his fingers quickly move.

In, out, in, out. Long fingers quickly build up the tension in your stomach, cold rings contrasting with his hot breath.

You only need a little bit more, when his fingers curl the right way, his groans vibrate at the right moment. Your fingers tighten around his locks as you come undone, loudly, unapologetically.

Wet lips, glossy eyes, Johnny looks at your figure as you arch your back away from your bed, moaning into the air.

It takes almost minutes for you to come down but, when you do, Johnny's about to dive a third time. Your hand stops his head.

“Want you inside, want to feel you.”, you tell him once you pulled him towards you face again. A quick kiss is planted on your lips where you can taste yourself, before he hides his face again in your neck, breathing heavily.

“Do you have a condom ?”, he asks, blown out eyes looking into your own.

You nod quickly, pointing at your bed table. You hear the brunette thanking the gods, he didn't want to have and walk all the way to his own appartement to get one. Leaning towards the said bed table, he pulls the small door open and find the box there.

Taking a little foil package between his lips, Johnny quickly closes the small door before hovering over you again.

Pearly teeth are used to open the packaging, he doesn't wait a second to roll the material out on his hard shaft, sighing slightly.

“So tiny, can you even take me ?”, it seems the brunette asks himself, hand jerking himself off.

You answer him anyways, “I can, please.”.

Soft smile on his lips, the brunette uses his hand to align himself with your drenched core.

The tallest thought about this very moment for hours the night before, but nothing prepared him for the tightenes, your wet, hot core wrapping around his head.

You both moan in almost unison, Johnny has to hold himself from slamming in. You, on the other hand, have a hard time wrapping your head around how he's stretching you out so nicely.

A mixture of pleasure and slight pain you're quickly addicted to. A hand claws at his back, the tallest moves inch, by inch, by inch.

“So fucking tight. When's the last time someone fucked you properly ?”, his sudden change in behaviour gives you whiplash, you can only whine at his question and mumble something about not knowing when, exactly.

“Please, fuck me.”, if you have to beg, you will but thankfully, Johnny doesn't have much patience tonight. Once he's fully in, he doesn't hesitate to pull out just to ram in. Your body rides up, head thrown back, moan silent.

“Gonna fuck you nice and deep. Stretch you, yeah ?”

You can only nod eagerly, Johnny laughs breathlessly. His forearm supports his body right next to you head, necklace hanging over your body, right hand tightly holding your hip.

He barely gives you the time to adjust, hips snapping at a steady pace.

Headboard sharply knocking against your wall, your thankful your neighbors aren't here. Still sensitive, your moans turn breathless, barely audible. Forehead against your own, Johnny doesn't hide his moans, your name, any profanities coming to his mind.

“Fuck, turn around for me, baby.”, breathless, chest irregularly moving up and down, he helps you do so after moving out.

Flipping you on your stomach, the brunette curses at himself a second time. His body flush against yours, he supports himself next to your head again, second hand affectionaly running in your hair.

He takes you from behind, cock easily sliding in this time. Moans hidden in your pillow, Johnny doesn't take that, using the hand locked in your locks to turn your head.

“Don't hide your moans, wanna hear you.”

Just like he wanted after stepping into your apartment, the tallest has you whining his name, loudly, until you're numbed, fucked dumb until his name's the only thing you know.

A snap of his hips reaches deeper, it's there you feel the tension threatening to break.

It's like he can read you, he does it again, breathy laugh coming out of his lips.

“Come around me, let go. Let go for me.”, it's all you need, you easily follow his order, core tightening around his shaft.

“God, your pussy’s gripping me.”, his hips alter, lips finding yours again. “Gonna make me come so hard.”

Fucked out, yet you managed to raise your hips, core clenching around him. That does it, loud growl resonates in the room, mixed in with your name.

“Are you okay ?”, Johnny asks, voice soft after he pulls out, throwing the condom in your bin.

You hum, too tired to answer, you smile nonetheless when he takes you into his arm, arm pushing your hair to the side.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go.”, he hums, picking a fallen eyelash from your cheek.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, tired, his hand running up and down your spine putting you to sleep.

“Wanted to take you out on a date first.”, he admits. “But how do you want me to resist when you were calling me like a siren singing at a lone traveler.”

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[wonderful-writes]

Pine Away (Part 2)

Harry Potter x Reader (Modern AU?)

Word Count: 2.1k (2,151)

Author’s Note: “Pine Away” was supposed to be a stand-alone piece, but the lovely reblogger @iwanttogotoeurope expressed that it should be a series. I’m not sure if I want to turn it into a full series since I still believe it works better as a oneshot, but here’s a sequel for those of you who wanted more. Enjoy!

Part 1

I didn’t see Harry on Thursday. He had mysteriously come down with a fever and couldn’t attend Bill and Fleur’s dinner party. I would have found this story dubious if not for Mrs. Weasley’s confirmation that he was indeed feeling under the weather. For the next several weeks, I didn’t see him at all. Every time I went out with our friends, he was always too busy to join. And miraculously, on the days I was too busy, he was always available to meet with them. It was as if he was avoiding me, finding every excuse to be where I wouldn’t be.

But why? What reason did Harry have to be avoiding me? Was there something he didn’t want me to know? We’d been close friends since childhood, and we told each other everything. So why was he being secretive? What was he hiding? I couldn’t help but wonder if I did something wrong. Had I upset him in some way? He did seem off the last time I saw him, that day he brought flowers and coffee over to my house. Did I say something offensive when he visited?

I decided to go to Ron and Hermione for answers. Harry didn’t seem to have a problem spending time with them. It was only me that he was staying away from. Maybe they could tell me what the issue was and whether I caused it.

“I am so glad you’re here!” Hermione gushed when I entered her and Ron’s shared living room. “I just tested out a new recipe, and I need someone to try it.”

I chuckled, letting Hermione take my coat and following her to the kitchen. “What about Ron? I’m sure he’d love to try whatever you made.”

“He’s out shopping with Neville and Harry,” she replied dismissively as she reached for dishes and silverware. “Neville needed supplies for his classroom, and he invited Ron and Harry to join. They wanted to go to the shops to look at some new quidditch equipment anyway.”

“Speaking of Harry, has he been acting differently around you guys recently?”

“Not really,” Hermione answered after pausing briefly to think about the question I asked. “He’s been normal Harry to me. Why do you ask?”

“Well, for starters, he seems to be avoiding me,” I told her. “Haven’t you noticed that he never wants to hang out with the group when I’m here? You told me yourself that he came by to spend time with you guys on the days I was busy.”

“Oh my Godric, you’re right!” Hermione exclaimed as the realization dawned on her. “I did mention that Harry was here on the days you were unavailable, but I didn’t even notice a connection. I didn’t realize he’s intentionally only coming over when you’re not around.”

“So you think it’s intentional?” I asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know for sure,” she admitted, handing me a plate of food and ushering me to sit down at the table. “But why wouldn’t he want to see you?”

“That’s what I want to know,” I said in between bites of food. “This is delicious, by the way. You’ve got to send me the recipe.”

“I will,” Hermione assured. “I’m glad you like it. It’s a Molly Weasley classic, but I’ve never made it myself. Anyway, I’ll ask Ron about Harry when he gets home.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

“He has feelings for you!” Ginny exclaimed.

After getting back from Ron and Hermione’s house, I decided to visit Ginny at her apartment. I mentioned the Harry situation to her, and she couldn’t help but share her thoughts on the matter.

“What?!” I asked incredulously. “You think Harry has feelings for me?”

“I am almost positive that he does,” she said smugly, clearly proud of her sleuthing skills. “All the signs point to that. I mean, he only wants to hang out on the days you’re not around. And he hasn’t called you in ages.”

I let her words sink in. Could one of my best friends truly have romantic feelings for me? Why hasn’t he said anything before? How long has this been going on?

“Plus, he came to check on you and brought you gifts after your breakup with Hugh,” Ginny added. “The question is, do you have feelings for him?”

I felt like I was being hit with a freight train of emotions. Did I like Harry? One of my best mates since I was a child? Now that I was taking the time to think about it, I realized that I always felt some sort of attraction to him. But I had always brushed it off as platonic, thinking we were never meant to be more than friends. But could there be a chance for more?

“Y/N? Hello?” Ginny called, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

“Oh, sorry, Gin,” I apologized. “I must have spaced out for a bit.”

“What were you thinking so deeply about?” she asked.

“I, I like Harry.”

Later that week, I received a call from Hermione. She informed me that Ron had little success in getting information out of Harry. According to Ron, Harry didn’t feel like sharing whatever it was that was causing him to distance himself from me.

My conversation with them didn’t do anything to ease the confusion in my mind. I had come to the conclusion that I had feelings for Harry. Why else would things have felt so wrong with Hugh, who was otherwise perfect? The only explanation was that Hugh wasn’t Harry. Harry, my best friend who’s been with me through the toughest of times. How could I not fall for him? He’s helped me and stood by me for practically my entire life. He was kind, compassionate, understanding, and everything I could ever want. I didn’t know why it took me so long to realize it. But I still wasn’t convinced that he felt the same. Was he sending signals that indicated romantic interest? Or was it something else entirely?

A war was raging inside my mind. Should I express my feelings to Harry? What if he doesn’t reciprocate them? I could never live with myself if I ruined one of the best friendships in my life. But what if he does feel the same? That would make me the happiest person in the world. It was becoming easier and easier to imagine myself with him. I needed to know if the feelings that were threatening to change everything were going to be returned.

I decided to inform Ron and Hermione of Ginny’s theory, and they surprisingly agreed with her. Apparently, they all could picture Harry and I as a couple and weren’t shocked to hear that he might possibly like me as more than a friend. In fact, they were certain that he had feelings for me and even provided rationale.

They listed all the times that Harry has shown a fondness for me that he never showed with anyone else. They counted all the ways he was nicer to me and more considerate of my needs compared to the needs of his other friends. They mentioned all the inside jokes between Harry and me and all the secret looks that only the two of us seemed to understand. By the end of their lecture, I was almost entirely convinced that I should profess my emotions to Harry Potter.

The only thing stopping me was that he was still avoiding me.

About two weeks after I made the decision to confess to Harry, Molly Weasley invited me over for a dinner party. I saw the party as an opportunity to finally speak to Harry and clear the air regarding our feelings for each other. I was still terrified of ruining our friendship, but I knew the possibility of being with him was worth the risk. Besides, Ron and Hermione had started out as friends, and they were now an unstoppable couple.

To ensure that Harry would actually attend the dinner, Ginny told him that I wouldn’t be there. She explained that I had “a doctor’s appointment” that coincided with Mrs. Weasley’s dinner party. Of course, everyone else knew that I would be in attendance. Harry was the only one kept out of the loop.

When the night of the party approached, I was a bundle of nerves. I knew I wanted to speak to Harry and settle this once and for all, but I was scared for his reaction. I was among the first few to arrive, so I busied myself with helping Mrs. Weasley prepare the food and place settings in order to take my mind off of my inevitable interaction with Harry.

Soon enough, more guests began arriving, and I was becoming increasingly anxious. Every time someone entered the house, I looked up to see if it was the man I was yearning to see. Finally, after much agonizing anticipation, the familiar head of messy hair and set of spectacled green eyes made their appearance.

I scurried to the door, intending on pulling him aside to talk before I could lose the nerve. I had to talk to him immediately and knew that if I waited any longer, all my confidence would disappear. But before I could get to him, he was being pulled into a bone-crushing hug by Mrs. Weasley. I awkwardly waved to him as he pulled away from her, and he nodded his head curtly in response.

Still giving me the silent treatment, I see, I thought to myself.

I wasn’t allowed any further contemplation, as Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time to eat shortly after letting go of Harry.

Throughout the evening, Harry and I never had a moment alone. We sat at opposite ends of the dining table and were engaged in conversation with various friends. We hardly had time to steal glances at each other in between eating and chatting with others. As the night got later and later, I saw my opportunity for a private conversation with him slipping away. It wasn’t until after dessert that I had a chance to pull him aside.

“Hey, Harry,” I greeted as I approached his slim figure. He was clearing the last of the dishes off the table. I flashed him my best smile in spite of my nerves. “Mind if we go outside for a bit?”

“Uh, sure,” he replied, grabbing his jacket and following me to the backyard.

When we reached the little bench situated not too far from the back door of the Weasleys’ house, I sat down and patted for him to sit next to me. The brisk evening air made me wrap my jacket tighter around myself.

“I was hoping we could talk,” I started. If I wasn’t so intently staring at the loose string on my shirt, I would have noticed that Harry was equally nervous and was picking at the skin on his hands.

I took a deep breath before continuing. “I, well, I have feelings for you Harry. And I have reason to believe you have feelings for me, too.”

I looked up for his reaction, eyes meeting his for the first time since I sat down on the bench. In those emerald pools, I saw a range of emotions — confusion, curiosity, apprehension, but most of all, hope.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” I chuckled nervously.

Snapping out of his trance, Harry opened his mouth to speak. “I, I didn’t know you like me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I just told you,” I responded with another laugh. “I’m not wrong in thinking you like me back, right?”

“N-no,” Harry stuttered. “You’re not wrong at all. I just didn’t think you felt that way. I’ve liked you for so long.”

“Then why haven’t you ever said anything?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to mess up our friendship,” he answered. “We were always such good friends, and then you were with Hugh, and I guess I never thought it was a good time.”

I nodded in understanding. I let my eyes flicker across his face, observing his chiseled jawline and striking eyes. I gulped as my gaze rested on his lips for a moment too long.

“Well, is now a good time?” I asked softly.

“I think so,” Harry whispered back, his eyes traveling to my own lips.

He leaned in as his hand moved to cup my face. I met him the rest of the way, finally closing the distance between us. When we eventually broke away, both our faces were adorned with ear-to-ear smiles.

At that moment, I forgot why I was so afraid to confess to him. If I had known that it would lead to this level of bliss, I would have told him sooner. There was no doubt in my mind that Harry and I were meant to be. What started off as friendship ended as so much more.

[lunarflux]

han jisung x reader / femme o/c

genre — fluff

cafe!au pt 2

suggested background music: x

9:59pm

Like clockwork, Jisung switched off the lights to The Rose Room. The quaint little cafe he owned with a friend seemed to have the most solemn atmosphere just before closing, and tonight was no exception. The red glow from the streetlights danced along the freshly polished floor like a night light. It was time to lock up and head home.

Jisung polished off the last of his coffee, forever regretting how much caffeine he continuously consumed just before he had to sleep. All the part-timers had gone home for the night, and the only company left in his coffee house was the sound of flickering lights and a symphony of car horns from down the road.

10:05pm

Jisung had his key in the door, but in his head, he was counting down.

Ten seconds.

With a deep breath, he heard the gears click together, and right on time, there she was.

Hyacinth & Holly - that was the name of the flower shop across the way. Jisung had his routine locked down that by the time the doors had shut, you were about to walk out.

Always carrying a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas, there you were. Locking up your own little kingdom of hues and aromas, you turned and gave him a small wave.

This was the routine that Jisung always looked forward to at the end of the day - seeing you even if for a moment. You both always walked in opposite directions, but that simple five seconds of eye contact were enough to make him forget his fatigue.

One day, he'll talk to you.

One day.

But this is not that day.

Jisung turned his heel, knowing you'd easily turn yours away from him. The walk back to his apartment was always quiet, but lately, it was even more solemn.

Hyunjin, your last-minute roommate had moved out last week to live with his girlfriend. It was just one less person he interacted with during the day, and it was only then that he realized, he didn't really talk to that many people.

In his head, he would imagine you walking through the doors of the Rose Room.

Strawberry latte? Iced rose tea? - He would guess your favorite drinks in the hopes that one day, you'd walk in, and he could surprise you.

Hyunjin used to tease him.

"Just go over there on your break. You're never gonna know her name unless you just talk to her."

Jisung scoffed at the thought of that conversation, remembering how it took over a month for Hyunjin to confess his own feelings. Then again, the flower shop opened up a few months ago, and still he hasn't spoken to you.

One day.

**

Jisung walked into the Rose Room at 2:00pm.

An unfamiliar vase with two massive sunflowers sat on the bar top.

"What's this?" He picked up one of the yellow stalks and prodded it with a small smile on his face.

Jeongin continued to work on his Americano. "The girl from the shop across the street dropped it off this morning. She said someone canceled their order, and she'd already clipped the stems so it'd be a waste not to put them out."

Jisung felt the lump in his throat expand. She had been in here.

"I was gonna bring her a drink to say thanks, but I didn't ask what she liked." Jeongin slipped off his apron. "I figured an Americano would be okay -"

"I'll do it." Jisung interrupted. "But give that to the next customer, I'll make something."

**

Carrying a small plastic lunch bag, Jisung steadied himself. The strawberries in the sandwich he made had to stay pristine. Paired with the rose tea, he made his way over to the storefront, ready to be either rejected or welcomed.

"Hello!" A part-timer greeted, the name 'Yeji' scribbled on her name tag. "Can I help you?"

"Um -" The familiar lump in his throat was back. "Th-The girl who brought the sunflowers. Is she here?"

Yeji tilted her head, looking over to the sunflowers behind Jisung, not realizing the amount had been altered. "That might have been my boss? But she isn't here."

"Oh." Jisung was almost relieved.

"Is that for her?" Yeji motioned towards the lunch bag.

"No - I mean, yes, but -"

"She'll be back later. She only came in to help prepare an order, but she closes usually." Yeji said with a smile. "Do you want me to leave that in the back -"

"No!" Jisung nearly screamed. "I mean, no, no, I'll come back. If... that's okay?"

The surprised girl nodded quietly.

**

9:48pm

The strawberries in the sandwich got soggy and the rose tea watered down. Jisung slumped his head over the counter, still cringing from today's interaction with the girl who very well knows his crush and could easily ruin his chances.

Why am I so awkward?

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, peering out into the street. He didn't know if you were there. He didn't even know if he could muster up the same courage to go back.

Jisung reached for the door, tempted to just run over if only to catch you before you closed up, but before he could, you emerged.

Holding his breath, he watched as you walked outside - but not alone.

You were with someone. A guy. He patted your head, and you smiled back.

Jisung's grip on the door handle pushed the blood from his knuckles. It was too good to be true. He waited too long.

And just like that, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He didn't even know you, yet he already felt that familiar pang of sadness and disappointment. It wasn't as if he was craving a relationship, and perhaps, he had built you up too much in his head. He didn't know your name or your favorite color. He didn't know the music you liked to listen to on your way to work or the sound of your laugh. He really didn't know anything, and seeing this solidified that thought.

You were a stranger after all.

**

Hyunjin and his girlfriend, the day manager left together today, but not before trying to talk Jisung out of his mood.

"You know that might not be her boyfriend," she shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions."

"What other guy would meet up with her that late at night?" Hyunjin rolled his eyes. "If you were the closing manager, you know I'd show up to walk you home."

Jisung cringed, seeing the couple exchange loving glances.

"We're just saying not to give up. You can't wait forever."

They weren't wrong. It seemed better to try now and get rejected than to wait and wonder.

**

9:59pm

It seemed automatic now. The counting. Only now, he didn't really know what he was counting down to.

Jisung heaved a heavy sigh as he inserted his key.

9

8

7

"Are you closed?"

5

Wait.

Jisung nearly stumbled down from the small ledge of the door.

There you were. Apron and purse in one hand a fresh bouquet of blue hydrangeas in the other.

"Yeah, we closed -" He cleared his throat. "We closed - I mean, we close at 9:30."

"Oh." You almost looked upset. "I'm sorry, I'm just so used to seeing you leave after ten, so I wasn't sure. I always wake up too late to come here before my shift, and you guys are always so busy.

Jisung put his key back in the lock without thinking. Opening the door, he held his breath.

"I can make you something."

**

You swung your legs under the seat. Jisung quietly steeped the same kind of rose tea he wanted to give to you before. Glancing over, he could see one of the last strawberry sandwiches of the day as if it had been waiting for him to reenter.

"Do you always work late?"

He heard your small voice over the counter. Walking up, you joined him so that the only thing between you was marble. Jisung nodded, setting the glass of tea and sandwich in front of you.

"Yeji told me you stopped by yesterday. I'm sorry, I missed you."

"It's fine." He could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck. "I would have brought it later, but your boyfriend was there."

"Ex."

"Ex?"

"Ex." You smiled, quietly sipping your tea with a blissful sigh he'd never seen before. "Dropping off my spare work key. I'd forgotten it when I moved out last month."

Ex. Her ex boyfriend. Of course.

"Why did you break up?"

Picking at the edges of the sandwich, you shrugged. "You know how it is. Working adults not working the same schedule. I like working the night shifts. I like closing the store. And he hated how many hydrangeas I brought home. Said it made the apartment smell too much."

"I think they're pretty. The blue ones."

As if you'd forgotten the color already, you giggled. "They're my favorite."

"Mine, too." Jisung could feel the air lessen.

"I can bring you some tomorrow if you'd like."

"That'd be nice." He smiled, genuinely for the first time in what seemed like a long time. "If you want, I could -" He caught himself.

You nodded towards him, midway through your sandwich.

Punching his leg, Jisung quietly scolded himself. "If you want... I could walk you to work. I'd like to see you - the flowers, I mean, and everything tomorrow. Y'know. Before it gets dark."

"You'd wake up early for flowers?"

"W-Well, yes, and I need to wake up earlier anyway - I drink too much caffeine at work, and I need to stop sleeping so late, and -"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'd like that," you beamed.

Jisung almost choked. "I'm sorry, it's just. Well. I don't even know your name."

"y/n." You poked his cheek. "All you had to do was ask."

[myelocin]

the most beautiful thing | hanamaki t.

synopsis: beautiful, hanamaki takahiro thinks, sees, and feels. in this home, within four walls, with you as his forever and his two children as the sun that shines soft on the vanilla skies he’s loved all his life.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you (HMMMMMM), your two kids

genre: fluff, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1600+

a/n: hei yes i am ok. i did not just type this in 20 minutes flat because i dreamt of this. i am ok. i swear. plz help. i love him so much. by hanamaki takahiro x reader,, i rlly mean hanamaki takahiro x nicole thank u. 

beautiful, is the word that first flashes in hanamaki takahiro’s mind. 

bare foot against the dark stained wooden kitchen floors, your hair down and a little tangled against the white of his old shirt that fit you just comfortably. he thinks there’s hints of a vanilla sky outside. 

cotton candy pink, lilac, and just the right amounts of blue. he met you under a sky like today’s, he notes to himself with a smile. it’s a little past eight am, where on a normal day you’d be up two hours earlier; you, with a train to catch, and him with customers waiting in front of the shop. 

but the calendar says that today’s sunday. and sunday mornings, takahiro recalls you say, are days for family. 

and back then he remembers that he laughed at your little explanation, thinking that it was just a ploy to get him to stay in bed for a little while longer. back when it was just the two of you in the house above his flower shop. where sunday mornings meant the extra time in the mornings were reserved for morning sex and for talks about love and life alike as you settled in the afterglow. 

but sunday mornings now, he realizes, is this. 

it’s waking up with your side of the bed empty and coming into the kitchen with the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air and the low sizzle of eggs frying in a pan. a little boy, with a head of strawberry brown hair peeking at him from his spot in the table, and his sweet, sweet ten month old baby girl sitting in her high chair with smeared baby food all over her mouth. 

takahiro’s heart swells, because he feels love—before he realizes that more than that, he feels a sense of home too. and even if the feeling had always settled in his chest years ago, it’s in the smallest most unexpected moments where he feels the world’s kindness remind him of its existence.

he knows he’s been in love and been at home when you said yes six years ago; a ring offered by his hands, trembling like the knee he’s leaned down on. then when you kissed him with tears in your eyes after telling him your “i do,” in a voice that assures him your love for him is as real and as raw as the kind he feels for you.

that same year too, when he held the keys to the flower shop he risked his—and frankly a little bit of your—life savings over. your hand, warm and steady against his that trembled with the same intensity from before as he pushed the key in the lock and opened the new chapter of your life together.

where a home, from that time, became the second floor of that same flower shop. photographs lined on the stairwell and a windowsill with the herbs he’s grown in memory of someone he knows you love dearly. where the polaroids you took with him over the years were first hung around the room with little pieces of string and handwritten notes beneath them, before later kept in glass frames and left by the fireplace for those who came to your little world and see.

then five years ago when he he saw the two little lines on a test you planned to keep a surprise for him but ultimately crying with him anyway, because if there was one thing your husband was never good at: it was knocking at the bathroom door before entering. but then again—if there was one thing you were also never good at, it was locking the door when you’re supposed to.

he laughs at the memory everytime because just like that he knows that you two just fit like that. he feels love and home again, as he thinks of your teary smile and the happy crack in your voice as you cried and told him you were going to be a family.

(he held you that night with tears in his own eyes, a few crumbs of fear settling in his heart, but anticipation for the universe’s blessings serving as the adrenaline rush he knew would last him for this lifetime and the next.)

and the rest, takahiro thinks to himself, comes to him in flashes.

the blessing of being able to feel love within home when he first held his son in his hands. the tell tale strawberry brown hair looking like a carbon copy of his own. the freckles across his cheeks that awfully look a lot like the ones he stares at in front of the mirror everyday. but the quirk of his lips looking like yours, because takahiro memorizes the contours of your smile like he knows his loved ones by name.

much like the smile he sees on your youngest daughter’s. where even at ten months old, he can already tell that she’s taking after you a lot more than him. it’s the smile, he recalls his mother tell him, when she first came into the world.

though really, takahiro thinks, it was the hue of her eyes when she first opened them. bright and sparkling as it told him the same sort of stories that you told him all those years ago.

stories about how in life, heartbreak is unavoidable.

how in life, there is as much pain that will be felt as there comes the happiness that lays either before or after it.

but also, as cruel as life is—it can also be so, so kind. the kind of kindness that has you forgetting all the bad that you’ve trudged through, because when you ride that sort of high that life gives you—it truly feels like you’ll soar for eternities that are here and the ones that have still yet to come.

takahiro feels that; every day.

“papa,” he hears. “breakfast!” his son calls.

and so he pushes himself off of the doorframe as he first walks towards you, a kiss pressed to your cheek as the smell of day old roses and rosemary lingers—making you smile.

and as the word beautiful, flashes in his mind for the second time that morning—he knows it isn’t meant for the vanilla skies that swirl slowly outside the kitchen windows. it’s the way you look when you take a seat across him and smile, sipping your cold tea and sighing as if all the world’s problems are rolling right off your shoulders.

the ring, on your left hand’s fourth finger catches the light when you raise the spoon by your daughter’s mouth; golden like the picture frame hanging above fireplace in the living room, with four smiling faces instead of just the two from the polaroids before.

beautiful, life really can be even without the vanilla skies because he knows he has the best that life could ever offer right here. in this little room, the world in his hands, and the promise of heaven’s grace clear as day right in front of his eyes.

“papa,” he hears his eldest call again. takahiro takes a slow sip of his coffee before he turns to his son and smiles. “yep?”

“how do you spell your name?”

your husband doesn’t catch it when you smile, already knowing what he’s about to ask. letting your husband bask in the moment, you turn to face your ten month old daughter who stares back at you with eyes and face identical to your own. she was a messy eater, you observe with a chuckle. she took after her father in the little ways, you suppose.

and she always, always looked the most beautiful around flowers too. the polaroid of her sitting in the counter, next to a handful of roses was the photo she smiled at the widest. under the vanilla skies in that morning you think about how takahiro looks like a different sort of radiant around the flowers too.

“what’s it for?” you hear your husband ask, voice still a little scratchy from sleep.

“it’s for this!” your five year old beams.

takahiro stares at the paper he could only guess is his homework. his last name written next to your son’s giving name, erased pencil marks over his mistake still a little evident on the paper. he smiles as he reads through the little questionnaire, but pauses as he gets to the last part.

“who do you want to be like when you grow up?” it reads, a blank line next to it.

a familiar, welcome feeling thrums in takahiro’s chest again, so he thinks of the word beautiful once more. because life, he thinks, has never been more beautiful than how it looks in this morning.

“papa your naaaaaame.”

he swears that ever since he met you, he falls in love with life more and more every day.  

(he cries to you later that night as he closes the flower shop downstairs for the day. red eyes, and a happy smile in place. you kiss his cheeks and tell him he deserves happiness every day.)

(your son’s homework and doodle of your family next to another one of flowers and rosemarys with a little cross above it is pinned on the fridge later that night.)

you fall asleep with his arms around yours, your kids asleep in the room next to yours.

this, you smile. this is the beautiful part of life.

a/n: rosemary is the herb my mom had on her windowsill. she died before she could plant her herb garden. i always think that makki likes to keep a herb garden so he could feel close to my mom in a way : - )  

[helianskies]

Writing is not my thing... So, I'm just dropping off an idea 😉

Caffe AU... Where England is a regular (complains constantly about the tea but still goes any way 😏) and try desperately/ miserably to flirt with the Spain (the owner of the Caffe). Spain is also interested, but is oblivious to his dear costumer' attempts of flirtation. They will occasionally spend the evening together after the Caffe is closed eating the remaining desserts/sweets made by Spain and a cup of tea made by England... Enjoying each other company 👀

a café au you say...?

[insert wibbly-wobbly-wavy transition]

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ .*

Arthur huffed. Work had kept him behind for longer than he'd anticipated, and he was, for lack of a better word, pissed. Utterly pissed. Because now it was closer to half-past five than five o'clock, which meant he now had thirty odd minutes to spend rather than the usual fifty-minumum. Fucking bullshit ass job, God, all because of someone else's damn mistake! He couldn't wait to be able to take some time off for 'holiday'. When, that was, someone actually decided to approve the request!

Holding the next huff in, Arthur turned at the street corner and—there it is—his little haven away from home, a modest coffee shop lying between a hairdresser's and a grocer's. Cascaras. Arthur hadn't the foggiest what the name meant but the charm lay more so on the inside of the café's walls than on the exterior. The place closed up at six. It was the only place in town that he knew to stay open to such a time.

As soon as he walked through the door, he felt a bit better. The air smelt of roasted coffee and light florals—the space was decorated generously with flowers and hanging pots—and the warmth of the place always seemed to seep into his bones, dive into his skin. It was cosy, bright, young ('hipster' even), and where he went most days before work, or after work, to grab a drink.

The coffee was amazing.

So he'd heard.

Arthur only drank the tea, which was comparatively shit and never quite hot enough (some fancy-schmancy organic crap, no doubt, when PG Tips would have sufficed), but it wasn't really the tea he came for.

"Ah, Arthur! I was wondering if and when you were going to show up!" 

Arthur came for him.

"Here, do you want the usual," Antonio, the man who simultaneously owned and ran the coffee shop, and also made the world a nicer place to live in, began to ask him as Arthur approached the counter, "or have you finally decided to get a bit more adventurous?"

Though the pause wasn't even noticeable, it felt like a lifetime—a lifetime of staring at the other, imagining what could be, what they could be, together—before Arthur responded: "Trust me, I'm all for adventure and trying new things, Toni, but tea is the only thing that I refuse to give up."

The brunette hummed and smiled as he got straight to finding a cup and saucer. "Shouldn't have expected any less from you. But at least you're consistent and easy to serve," he remarked with a light-hearted shrug, "God forbid people come in here and start treating it like a Starbucks! Just the other day, someone asked if I could make some crazy iced choco-hazelnut pino-ccino a la crème grande, and— Ooh… I'm surprised I managed to stay on my side of the counter, let me tell you."

The small pout that had appeared on the other's face, a result of the clearly extremely unpleasant memory, was nothing short of adorable. As was the rambling. Arthur was surprised he was staying on his side of the counter, too; he wished he could leap over there, grab his face and just kiss him—but that would have been both rude and highly embarrassing for the both of them. It was a good job he had self-control. Praise be!

"Anyway," the brunette continued as he found the tray of tea bags to offer out to Arthur so he could pick one (that never failed to taste of fancy overpriced dirt pried from the sole of some regent's shoe; he'd sooner die than drink green tea instead), "how’s your day been?”

Ah, we’ve entered the small talk phase. “It was alright, for the most part,” Arthur replied, though he was sure his facial expression betrayed him. “Didn’t really enjoy staying on for longer than I’m paid for, but you know…”

“I know,” Antonio confirmed with a nod. “The working life is far from fun and games.” He then nodded in the direction of the only occupied table in the coffee shop, a table of three students, from the look of it. “Just wait, they’re in for a shock.”

A fleeting moment of laughter passed between them, for no more than three seconds. Arthur recalled university and his utterly pointless degree that had, in the end, done nothing for him. He’d thought he’d maybe work in Archiving or Research in a museum, spending his days walking literal passages through time. But instead, well… a dead-end job, it was! Nowhere to really go but into retirement, which was a good forty years away. Wonderful.

In reality, it wasn't really something to laugh about.

Luckily, it seemed that Antonio agreed (though for different reasons, quite clearly, given the man somehow owned his own business) and gave an energised: "I have something for you, by the way!" like he'd suddenly remembered the fact. "If you want, go to your table, and I'll bring it all over—tea and surprise!"

Arthur conceded on the condition that Antonio was going to have a drink and sit down with him—an offer Antonio did not refuse, as he quickly explained how extra-tired he was after a day with only one employee able to help ('Some bug seems to be going around. That, or I have 'mug' written on my forehead, and they're all on holiday!'). With that settled, Arthur went over to his table (ah, how strange and fuzzy that felt, to have his very own designated table…) and waited patiently for some company. And a surprise. 

Part of him wondered if it was something to eat, because he was Cascaras' frequent guinea pig. Another part wondered if it was some news. A sliver wondered if it was something physical, tangible—a gift. It wouldn't have been the first time. Antonio had once produced a book for him to read that he thought Arthur would like (he had). But he couldn't think of any reason for— 

Ah, he relaxed slightly when he spied some sort of cake or pastry on the tray Antonio was carrying over to the table. That makes a lot more sense. And suits me better. Gifts were nice, but… just having someone to talk to was far nicer. 

"I hope you don't mind," Antonio said as he sat down opposite Arthur, who noted, over the other's shoulder, the 'closed' sign now sitting on the counter. "I'm sure you're yet to have dinner, and something sweet might ruin your meal, but as soon as I made it I knew you had to be the one to try it!"

"I'm flattered," Arthur smiled at him. "Does my opinion really… matter to you that much?"

"Of course! You're probably the most honest person I know," the brunette responded, smiling back. 

Me? Honest? Hardly, Arthur thought rather cynically as the other emptied off the tray and set it down on a different table. If I were honest I’d have told him by now how I… well… 

“On that note,” Antonio went on as a slice of what looked like a pleasant tart, “this is a recipe a friend sent to me.”

“Not Francis, by any chance?” Arthur asked. Francis was a mutual friend of theirs, and the whole reason that Arthur had even found that Cascaras existed. 

Antonio hummed, but shook his head. “Not this time,” he said, “though that dacquoise recipe was quite good last month. But, no, no—this one’s from Lorenzo. Italian. Torta della nonna, or what is a sort of custard and lemon tart. But… don’t tell Lorenzo I called it that. He’ll never share a recipe with me again!”

“And so what if he doesn’t? I think your own personal and family recipes are—” Incredible, perfect, addictive, I’d really love it if you moved in and baked every day for me or not even baked, but if you just stayed, and spoke to me, or had dinner with me, or maybe— “—wonderful. Really, I think you should use them more often.”

Nailed it.

“Oh…?” Antonio quirked a brow, seemingly intrigued, as he lifted his own drink to his lips.

Arthur continued: “Why not? A French or Italian recipe might be good in its own right, and I may very well enjoy today’s selection,” he remarked, “but I still don’t think anything will beat the, uh, mantecadas you make, to start with. You know they’re my favourite.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve made a note of your birthday so I can give you a great big stack of them,” the other laughed softly. “That’ll feed you for a month.”

“I’m going to hold you to that now that you’ve said it,” Arthur very nearly laughed, though he at least grinned in its place. “I certainly won’t complain.”

“Good. If you did, I’m afraid I’d have to ban you from my café,” Antonio assured him rather jovially.

“You can try,” Arthur replied between sips of lukewarm tea, “but you’ll have a hard time keeping me away. I’ve gotten quite attached to this place.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Not as sweet as you. “I’m glad to know you like my cake that much.”

Arthur nearly choked on his drink. He wanted to think that Antonio had said it on purpose—a cheeky (ooh!) comment to match his flirting—but the Spaniard was so clearly oblivious to what he’d said, going on about his business—having a drink, sparing the students a glance and no doubt praying they’d soon leave—that there was no way he knew the… the connotations!

Thing was, Arthur wouldn’t have minded liking his cake at all, if he could get the courage to actually take steps towards having a taste. Not in a creepy way, though. Not in a one-night-stand-and-then-flee- the-crime-scene way. Antonio was as moreish as his pastries, but for his easy charm, his personality, the way that merely listening to him talk made Arthur feel a million times better… and who wouldn’t want more of that? Arthur was surprised when he came in every other day, nearly, and found that the man was still single. 

He wasn’t sure if that was a green light or a red flag.

But even so, he… Antonio was fascinating. He was a hard worker who seemed like he simultaneously did nothing—put no real effort in, despite the things he had achieved. He spoke frequently of family and friends that Arthur was yet to meet. He enjoyed gardening, sunny-but-not-too-hot days, evening strolls, and even had a strange affinity for cats—things they had in common, as they’d quickly learned. Arthur would learn more over dinner, or a drink, of course… but still, that was not all:

“Hey, Arthur?”

He was also (clearly) a passionate baker, he occasionally sang along to the music playing in the shop when things were quieter and no one seemed to be around except for Arthur, and sometimes, he’d… he’d get so lost in thought in the middle of conversation, that he’d stare out of the windows, or at one of the Turkish Blue walls, and he’d have this look on his face. Arthur couldn’t describe it. But it made him feel as though he were in a museum, observing one of the many portraits. Renaissance, perhaps. Though Antonio also deserved a halo, so… perhaps a bit more Baroque… 

The blonde emerged from his whimsical thoughts, and looked back to Antonio, his gaze having drifted off. Arthur hoped he hadn’t been ignoring him for too long. “Yes? Sorry, were you saying something?”

“Oh! No,” Antonio said, brushing off the comment, “I wasn’t. I, uh, haha— No, I was just wondering if you were okay. You went quiet, so I… Well…”

Arthur leaned back in his seat. “Sorry about that,” he responded. “I was just… thinking.”

“Thinking? My brother tells me that that’s dangerous, you know.”

“I bet he would,” the Brit scoffed in jest. “But it’s true, I was—and it was actually something a bit, um… a bit risky I was thinking of, if I’m being honest with you.”

Risky, and even riskier to say! Why the fuck would I— Why would I—?! Brain?! You're meant to be on my side!

“Now I’m curious! Am I allowed to know?” Antonio asked, because of course he would, of course he would! Fuck! "Or is it, like… private?”

Arthur breathed in, and then slowly exhaled. “Yes and no,” he replied, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He breathed in and out again. He tried to ignore the pounding of his heart. “See, the thing is, Antonio, I—”

“Oh, hang on—” Antonio flashed an apologetic smile, before turning to the trio of students, who were vacating their seats, and waving them off, thanking them for coming, and even throwing in a warm, ‘good luck with the exams!’ because, well, that was just very Antonio of him. Fucking… charming asshole. And then he turned to Arthur and said: “That’s my chance to close the door. You want to stay after hours for a bit, or…?”

“Well, that’s sort of what I… was thinking about,” Arthur said. Antonio stopped halfway out of his chair, and sat back down again. This is my chance, he told himself all the while, just spit it out! God, if Francis could see me now, I can't tell if he’d be applauding me or throttling me… “I was sort of wondering if you’d, uh, fancy some… dinner…?”

“…dinner?”

“Yeah, I— Ah— Nothing fancy, mind you, I’m not exactly the world’s greatest chef—not that I’m horrible either—but we could, I don’t know… grab something on the go, if you liked?”

“Oh.”

Oh? Arthur’s heart suddenly began racing an Olympic sprint. Oh, what? I shouldn’t have said anything, dammit, I knew it—!

“If you haven’t got dinner planned, you should have said something!” Antonio pressed on, unaware of Arthur’s ongoing cardiac arrest. “No, no—there’s no way I’m going to let you waste money on a takeaway that’s only half-decent and barely filling! If you need dinner, you can come over to mine. I can’t promise anything Michelin-worthy, but I can do comfort!”

“God, no, I didn’t mean it for that.” I’m making it worse! “I’m not going to intrude like that, if you’ve got plans then carry on. We can do something another day, with a bit more notice—”

“Noooo, you’ve said it now, and I insist,” Antonio responded, however. Another nail in the coffin. “We can finish up here—have your tea, and we’ll save the tart for dessert—and you can come to mine. Seriously. I don’t mind, my evenings are all quiet and empty, anyway. Company will make a nice change!”

Arthur felt… stuck, almost. Between what his heart wanted, and what his head demanded. The former wanted him to accept unconditionally so he could venture down this hazy path and see where it led; the latter wanted to walk away because this was suddenly too new, too deep, too terrifying, and he didn’t want to—

No, no, he did, want to, he just—

But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, he wanted to—

Antonio was just so damn ugh, so ffff, so mmhn—

“Oye, Arthur. Stop thinking for a second, and be honest with me, please.”

Arthur was feeling worried, scared, and queasy. “Honest?” he said, not quite able to look him in the eye, favouring his unfavourable tea, instead. “What do you want me to be honest about?”

About why I come here? Whether or not I come here for just the drinks? Whether or not I— I like you? Find you attractive? Find you so, so frustratingly, amazingly, wonderfully perfect? 

He was a hopeless case.

“About whether or not you actually want to. I don’t… want to force you, you know,” Antonio explained to him. “If you don’t want to come over, then don’t. I don’t mind. It’s just a friendly offer, in case you… wanted the company, too. If I was a bit… pushy, then I’m sorry.” Arthur didn’t like the way his smile had dropped, a ghost on his face. “I get told quite often that I can be a bit ‘intense’, or ‘invasive’... Synonyms for 'loud' and 'rude' I'm pretty sure."

“I don’t think you are,” the blonde told him, however. He may have even frowned, offended by such insinuations. “Whoever says so is a fool.”

"Oh, I know they are. Like I told you," Antonio said, "your opinion is the most important one I can have. Which is why, mister, I asked for your honesty! Just yes or no, say whatever comes to mind first," he went on. "Do you want to come over for dinner this eveni—"

"Yes."

"Well then, Arthur, in that case," Antonio began, voice dipping in volume despite the emptiness of the coffee shop—only God as our witness, "give me five minutes to lock up, and we can make a move."

The way the smile steadily reappeared on the other's face was as gorgeous as watching the sun rise up over tree-laden hills. He really was quite something. He just… didn't know it yet. Arthur longed to show him.

Make a move. Yes, yes… Now that sounded like a nice idea. . Arthur was doing it, he was making his move, giving it a shot, walking down that hazy path…

...directly into the friendzone, apparently! Because as it turned out, whilst tidying up a few things out back, Antonio had also called Francis and another friend, Gilbert, to join them for dinner! In the end, they'd spent some three hours together and in that time, Arthur had barely gotten a word in edgeways, or a moment alone to talk to Antonio as he'd hoped! Success!...

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ .*

Nevermind, old chap, he told himself as he wandered back home under the watchful gaze of the moon, you'll just have to try again tomorrow, and maybe get better at flirting...

'Oh, Honestly' - [~2950 words]

@twmblr thanks for helping me cure my writer's block <3

[dat-town]

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae​ to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away.  You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining:  "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed.  About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.