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dalamjisung · 1 month ago

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A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 6: Silver linings

genre: FINALLY JUST SOME PURE COMFORT FLUFFFFF

word count: 6151

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: weeks pass you by without much happening and you need to remind yourself: you believe in silver linings.

a muted shade of green masterlist

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author's note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEE! It took me so long to feel like they were ready for this but oh my god, the wait was so worth itttttt! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments! also, I would love to dedicate this chapter to the lovely @donttrustlove who reads and comments on every chapter I post <3

“We have a few emails coming in for the manager position, do you want to check them out?”

You two are sitting on his kitchen counter like this is the most natural thing to do at two in the morning. Spencer has work the next morning but still insists that it’s fine and that he wants to keep you company. You think he still feels guilty about the fact that, if not for him and his weird connection to Cat, you would have never been put into this tricky of a position. So he makes up for it where he can– he brings dinner whenever he knows he’ll be home late because he knows you’ll be waiting for him to eat; he makes a mean cereal bowl in the morning whenever he has time; he leaves books he knows you are yet to read by the small table next to your armchair because that is now your armchair and he would never steal that away from you.

In your own efforts, you also try to make him feel a bit more comfortable with the reality of everything, and you don’t bug him much to go outside, anymore. You don’t call him all panicked and gasping for air whenever he goes on work trips either, instead choosing to spend those lonely days in the endless company of Penelope. Officer Kaper has gotten better and been cleared to work again, and having him with you whenever Spencer isn’t brings you some sort of comfort and guilt. This man had become a target thanks to you and suddenly, you don’t quite read the fantastical stories of princesses and their faithful knights. The way your stomach weights down whenever they eventually get hurt to protect the fairest lady of the land does not sit right with you anymore– you refuse to believe that romance is hurt and pain for one and comfort and safety for the other.

At this point two weeks had gone by without you even noticing. Suddenly, you jumped from day 9 to day 23 and with the month mark approaching, so is your need for answers. Cat has been silent ever since the attack on Officer Kaper’s house, and so is her partner. For a second, it’s almost like she’s teasing you, like she’s throwing a taste of freedom in your face only to later pull the carpet from right under your feet. Spencer must feel like this too, considering how jittery he has been lately. At this point, you know how to recognise the different gestures of those pretty hands, and the way he fidgets with his fingers while reading War and Peace yet again tells you that he is not, in fact, reading the book, but trying to read himself. You don’t quite understand him fully yet, and that is okay; Spencer has shown you that even if it takes time, he is worth waiting for.

You still don’t know what happened to him, weeks ago, when you two were discussing Josh. You still don’t know what made him choke on his own words or what had his body limp and stripped of energy in your arms, but the truth is that you don’t really care what it was. Not yet. For now, you are just happy that Spencer showed you a side of himself that you had never seen before, and that he has been less… overbearing about your job. Actually, he had been the one that told you to check your emails for applications, suggesting stating the interview process so that you can make a schedule to possibly go back to the store. “Are you serious?” You whispered to him, eyes wide and waiting for Derek to pop out from the kitchen shouting ha! Gotcha!

“Of course,” He smiled and nodded and the rest is history.

The chairs are so close together that your legs brushes against his every time you lean forward to squint at the computer, but at this point, you two don’t even notice it. Cuddling on the couch after a mentally taxing conversation had unlocked new heights for you two, and though he does miss the way your cheeks flushed red whenever your fingers brushed, he prefers how now you just smile, honest and bright, whenever he’s closer than he should be. You don’t know that, but Spencer thinks your spoiling him rotten with these smiles. In your defence, however, smiling at him is just the easiest thing in the world. “Okay, what do we think of this one? His name is–“

“No.”

Your head whips to look at him, eyes wide behind your glasses. “But I didn’t even finish my sentence!”

“There is a weird gap in his resume,” Spence points out with a smug smile. He likes showing off to you, you’ve noticed.

“I can ask him about it during the interview process! Spence, he used to work at–“

“Next.”

You know he won’t budge when he gives you that tight-lipped, dimples-showing smile of his. “My god, you are hard to please,” You grumble and poke him in the stomach with your elbow, already scrolling to the next email.

When you feel his arm falling onto the back of your chair, you lean back a little into his touch, humming to keep yourself awake. “I am not hard to please,” He says easily. “I just won’t accept you hiring mediocre men to do the job you’ve been doing flawlessly.”

The way he emphasises men makes you chuckle. “But a mediocre woman is okay?”

“A bit better,” He admits gruffly, and you laugh. “This one seems promising!”

“Give me time to read, Spencer!” You groan, leaning forward again and nodding while your eyes scan through each line. “Okay, she seems good, Mr. Picky. Studied English Literature, so she’ll obviously have some literary background, has previous experience managing bookshops and cafes, has dealt with stock and suppliers before…” The list goes on and on, and you write her name down on the notebook to your right. That’s where the names Penelope will be running a background check on go, per Spencer’s insistence.

“Wait a second,” Something about the name, so visual and palpable in your little notebook previously filled with facts and memories of Spencer, makes you frown. Why does it sound so familiar?

Abigail Harrison.

“What is it?” He hums, chin once again finding perch on your shoulder. Little by little, you start to think that that is where he belongs, leaning on you, relying on you. “Who is Abigail Harrison?”

“I don’t–“ But then you see it, the address on top of the resume and you hold your breath. “Abigail.”

“Abi– Wait, the new neighbour? That Abigail?” His arms go around you, and now you’re in an awkward angle, half falling off the chair, half leaning on him, but you don’t mind. What you do mind is the uncomfortable, suspicious feeling in your gut. “Oh. That’s fine.”

“You don’t think it’s a weird coincidence?” Turning to look at him, you bit your lip in unsureness.

“Not really– if anything, I think it’s a very logical series of events,” He shrugs and you feel it in your own body. “She clearly has the experience and is obviously looking for a job, so why not one that fits her as an employee and is just a five minute walk across the street?”

As if sensing your worries, Spencer moves, yet again doing the unpredictable and dropping a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Having one thing to worry about it not enough, apparently, so he gives you another one, and now you know for a fact you won’t be able to sleep any time soon. He’s been doing things like this lately, and you think it’s because he’s finally getting used to your presence next to him at almost all hours of the day. His phobia of germs seems to be pushed aside when it comes to your skin, and if he washes his hand right after letting you go, you don’t take it to heart; it’s just who he is. But with cheek kisses and forehead kisses starting a list, this is yet another one for you to tally up– shoulder kisses. All five stars, ten-out-of-ten-would-do-it-again, though you don’t really ask him for them. You just wait. Living with Spencer has taught you patience, amongst many other things, and for him you don’t mind exercising it to its fullest, excited for your list to grow even longer.

“Garcia already ran her name through the database,” He whispers in your ear, hands going up and down your arms in a gesture that tells you he knows you’re nervous. “She’s clean, sweetheart.”

This is new too.

Letting out a strangled noise at the changes that kept on coming, you nod, mind completely shifting focus. “Yeah, okay,” You breathe out, eyes slowly fighting to stay open and not because of the time. “I uh, I’ll reply to her and ask her to come in to the shop for an interview…”

“That sounds great, but it also sounds like it can be done tomorrow when you’re not almost falling asleep,” Oh, sweet, innocent Spencer. Before you can even protest, he shakes his head, smiling like he’s trying to hold it back. “We’re going to bed, Y/N. I have work tomorrow and now, so do you.”

Any and all protests fall disappear from your lips– the prospect of getting to go to work after only being able to keep the store’s website open actually has you excited enough to make you sleepy. The contradictory emotions will surely bit you in the ass when you actually lay down next to Spencer, but you don’t care. You get to open up the shop again and that alone is enough to make you squeak in glee, naked feet thumping through the wooden floor. He always bugs you to put on socks, afraid that you’ll get sick with the cold breeze that manages to push its way in despite the windows being shut, but you like feeling the cold on your soles. It always sends a little zap of life up your body and you enjoy it the same way kids enjoy hopping in the mud despite the mess– it makes you feel alive.

There is a rhythmic routine to how you and Spencer get ready for bed. He brushes his teeth behind you, and you usually wash your face first, so that while he does it, you can braid your hair ready for the night. At first, you didn’t really worry about that because you two did your best to stay in your respective corner of the bed. You tried putting a pillow between you too but after the first time you kicked it off of the bed, you never bring it to the room with you again. Then you tried just paying attention, but that made you lose a significant amount of sleep and you ended up cranky for days. Giving up and accepting that, like it or not, you will end up waking up in Spencer’s arms, legs tangled with his and mouth drooling a little on his shirt, had been the best thing to do to move forward. Now, you two don’t pretend that anything else will happen, and before you’re even asleep, he opens his arms with a grunt, your signal to scoot closer and enjoy your very own space heater of man. “Alright, alright, I’m here,” You mumbled, happy with the way your body is warm but your feet are cold. So cold, in fact, that the moment one brushes up against his, Spencer yelps.

“What the hell was that?” He gasps, eyes going wide in shock.

“What?” You ask, smiling mischievously.

It would be unfair to say that the fear from early in the days has disappeared. It hasn’t– you’re still scared. Sometimes, it tackles you like a football player, abruptly and with so much force that you’re left breathless and immobile for a few minutes. Other times, it creeps up behind you, and you have time to prepare yourself. Despite the sudden appearances, however, your fear has lost that constantness that it had before. It’s duller, to the point that at times it’s just not there at all. And you quite like it, everything considered… it gives you space to breathe. It also gives you space to be– not be anything specific, but just be. And the more you can be, the more your personality starts to come back, peeking through the curtains you had set between yourself and the world.

Spencer always knew you were a playful woman, but this just confirmed it. “Y/N, don’t you–AH! Oh my god, these are death machines! Put some socks on!”

“Never!” You shout before fully pushing your feet against his legs.

Laying there, feeling Spencer squirm underneath you and then going off on some random fact about why it is important to keep your feet warm, is when you remember.

You are a believer in silver linings.

And you believe Spencer might just be yours.

————————————

The shop looked exactly like you had left it, which made you happy and sad at the same time. Took you almost an hour to leave the house that morning, Spencer practically having to drag you away from the mirror with promises that “You look beautiful, Y/N.” Officer Kaper is waiting for you by the door when Spencer drops you off with a kiss to your cheek and hurried steps down the street.

From then on, it’s a frenzy of cleaning. You try to convince Officer Kaper– or Mike, as he told you to call him– that he should sit down and guard the door, but he’s having none of it and instead, carries the not so heavy boxes of brand new books that you ordered as soon as you got news you’d be coming back to work. This is exciting to you, this return to normal, but it also makes you somewhat anxious. Once all of this is resolved– and you’ve taken to thinking about it with the mindset that it is not if it will be resolved, but once it is resolved– what will happen to you and Spencer? Living with him has its perks and the biggest one is that you get to actually see him with some sort of frequency. You get to experience having him in your life instead of just someone who comes and goes as they want. If you go back home, even if just across the street, right above your store he visits everyday… will you still feel this connection you do right now? Will you still get forehead kisses, and sneaky touches of his hand, and his pinky hooking with yours when you pass by?

None of that matters, though, when you hear the bell ringing through the shop. A customer. “Hello!” You call out from the shelves, making your way to the front. A buzz of anxiousness runs through you, though you quickly put it out; there is a literal police office standing guard by the door. You are safe.

You are even safer when you see it’s Abigail, the downstairs neighbour.

“Hi! I’m a little early, I hope that’s alright?”

Oh god. With all the cleaning and organising, you lost track of time. “Oh gosh, yeah, of course!” You say, pulling your hair down from the mess on top of your hair and smoothing it down.

You want to make a good impression on her. Out of all four interviews you have today, you hate to admit that Abigail seems the most fit for the position. Her experience is almost immaculate and her immediate availability is almost too good to be true. In fact, Abigail as a whole, with her warm smile and welcoming aura, seems too good to be true. As much as you believe in silver linings, she just seems like a straight up miracle.

“Please, sit,” Pointing to the foldable chair by the corner of the counter, you smile. “We don’t really have a sitting area yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Oh don’t worry about it!” Abigail’s voice is bright and peppy, and you should like her. You do like her, actually, but even so, you can’t quite ignore the nagging feeling in your gut. “I also brought a copy of my resume in case you didn’t have mine readily available–“

“I have it here, but thank you!” So far she has been nothing but delightful, and to be honest, it’s almost like she is a missing puzzle. The way she fits in the store is almost weird, and maybe is the way she is dressed so similarly to you, or how she looks like someone who would manage a bookshop, all plaid and cardigans and pretty smiles.

Pretty.

Abigail is pretty and that’s when it downs on you that you feel a little jealous. You are not ugly by any means, but the idea that Spencer will go to your store only to look at another woman– a younger, prettier woman– has you holding your breath.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

Snapping out of it, you blush in embarrassment. You’re being crazy and you know it. “Yeah! Sorry, my mind went somewhere else for a second. So uh, why don’t we start with you just telling me a little bit about yourself and what do you want to work here, I guess.” You sound as unsure as you feel, and you suddenly regret saying no to the list of questions Spencer offered to make you.

“Well, we’ve met briefly when I was moving into the building,” She giggles. “But my name is Abigail Harrison, recently moved to Washington D.C. from New York City–“

“I’m from New York!” You exclaim, big smile spreading as you finally place the familiar intonation in her voice.

“No way! Where? I was born and raised in Brooklyn!” And suddenly it all makes sense– her cool nerdiness, her extroverted nature, her ease to fit in. This girl is definitely from Williamsburg.

“Oh, I was raised in the West Village but then moved to uh, Upper East Side,” The memory of moving in with Joshua is an uncomfortable one and makes you immediately change the course of the conversation. Throughout this interaction, you have to remember to be nice, but also serious. You don’t want to give her the impression that this will be an easy job, specially not with how reluctant you already were with hiring someone. “So, why do you want to work here? Besides the close proximity, of course.”

“To be honest, I–“ And there is a pause. It’s not long nor weird, it just sounds like she’s thinking, but Spencer likes to point out your own pauses whenever you try to lie to him about your strategy during nightly backgammon, and it’s become a sort of a bad habit you’ve gotten from him. Squinting, you let her continue. “I just really like the store. I know this sounds a bit ridiculous, but I walk past here every morning, and every morning, I prayed that it would be open. Everything inside looked so… homey. So familiar. And I’ve worked with books my entire life, you know? I thought… it was fate.”

There is a redness in her cheeks that makes you squirm in your seat, nape of your neck suddenly feeling a little clammy. “Fate…” You mumble, nodding while looking down at the blank notebook on your lap. Right now, you are torn– you are trying to understand what is it about Abigail that makes you so hesitant while also fighting against your gut simply because the more she talks about her experience, the more you know she has to be the one.

“…and after almost five years as a manager, I’ve found that I have a really good method of keeping things in order,” She finishes, nodding eagerly for you to show her any reaction.

“That is really good to hear,” You gulp, getting your head back in place. “So just to reiterate, this would be a full time, part time position, of sorts. I would still come in some days in the week, and you would be acting manager whenever I am not here to oversee things. Whenever I am here though, you would be a very welcomed extra pair of hands and company. Believe it or not, we tend to get quite busy during lunch time and it was getting a bit too much to be here by myself.”

“So we’d still work together some days, right?” Her excitement is so clear in her voice that even Officer Kaper turns to pay more attention to you two. “Like, we’d still get to be a uh, a team?”

“Of course,” You say, nodding stiffly and looking at the clock. “I love working in a collaborative environment and I wouldn’t leave you alone in a new job straight away. We’ll start with training days and go from there.”

“That sounds incredible!”

“Yeah…” Looking at Mike– you are doing your best to abide by his wishes and call him by his first name– he gives you a little nod of recognition. “Anyways, do you have any questions for me?” When she shakes her head, you get up and offer her a hand to shake. “I’ll be making a decision by today end of day. I have a couple of other people to interview, but I’ll let you know either way.”

Is it just you or is her hand lingering a little?

“If you don’t call me, I know where to find you,” She says, her little laughter giving out the fact that this is supposed to be a joke. But you don’t laugh. And neither does the armed policeman by your door.

“Ha ha,” You say, trying your best to be nice regardless. “That you do!”

“Your boyfriend is lucky to have you, I bet he gets lots of books for free,” Abigail is a chatterbox, that much is clear, and with every try for a conversation, the more you feel like she’s just digging for gossip. For a minute, you actually think you are back in high school.

“Wha–“

“Or is that not your boyfriend?”

You don’t really know what to do, and it shows. Which is why you’re not surprised at all when Officer Kaper, your one and only hero, steps in. “Sorry to ask, ma’am, I should’ve said something before, but would you mind me checking your ID? We are conducting a security check system for the businesses in this area, there has been a rise in robberies lately and this is just for precaution.”

“Oh my! Of course,” After that, it doesn’t take long for her leave.

There is not even a minute of silence until a customer walks in and you have to slap that fake smile in your face again. The hair on the back of your neck is standing up in a way that makes you a bit too aware of everything, and that, in turn, makes your heart skip a beat. Nervously glancing at Mike, you keep trying to remind yourself that you are safe, that you have someone to protect you. It’s hard to focus on your work when Spencer’s voice echoes in your head making up a list of everything that could go wrong. Your job is very open to the general public. People can easily see inside. You don’t know what they have in their bags. His habit of mouthing off whatever comes to mind is not coming back to bite you in the ass.

“You have a boyfriend?” Officer Kaper’s questions snaps you back to reality.

“Huh? Oh! No!” Shaking your head, you awkwardly lean over the counter to try and ignore the sure blush on your cheeks. “She’s talking about Spencer.”

“She knows Doctor Reid?” It’s clear from his tone that this arises some suspicion in him.

“She just moved into the building and we met her when we were coming out for a second,” You shrug. You don’t want to feed your panic and you also don’t want to leave the man who got injured because of you on edge and scared. Abigail is just a bit taller than you and definitely stronger, with the body of someone who seems to care about her healthy appearance, while you… well, you prefer sitting on your armchair all afternoon with a cup of coffee and a book in your hands. A bit of a cliche, yes, but your life overall was a bit of a cliche, if you think too hard about it. “Spence thought it was better to let her believe whatever.”

“Hm, I’m sure he did,” Mike said with a dramatic wink, wiggling his brows in that suggestive way that makes you chuckle so desperately that he has a hard time not laughing at your reaction. “You know, I think Doctor Reid has a crush on you.”

“Ex-Excuse me?” You sputter out, eyes wide at how easy it is for this man to voice something that has been swimming in your head so insistently.

Spencer having a crush on you is not that wild of a thought, when you think about it objectively. It’s the Proximity Principle. You read about it once back when you were in college and it’s kind of stuck– people are more likely to form close relationships with other people they spend significant amount of time with. Unfortunately, though, you also know that crushes are also dependant on a certain fantastical factor, something that allows humans to project a lot of their needs onto the one that holds their affections. Predicting Spencer’s needs is actually not hard either, and the more he tells you about himself, the more your heart break for the boy that lives inside that man; the one that is afraid of being abandoned, the one that misses his mother dearly, the one sees a family in the coworkers he spends so much time with. You see how you can fulfil this role for him, you’re not blind nor stupid. His smile gives him away, to be very honest, with how bright and big it gets when he notices you waiting for him to get home, sitting in your armchair, reading the book he left for you next to it. Or how he tries to hold it back, that gorgeous, beautiful smile, when he hears you calling his name, all whiny and shy at the same time, to ask him something so ridiculous and out of pocket that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You are the sense of belonging he never had.

The same way that he is the sense of consistency you’ve always craved. Though in your case, you know that he is so much more than that.

In his… well, you will never know until you ask.

And my god, you’re not ready to ask.

“Yeah, a crush,” Officer Kaper shrugs, walking to the counter and smiling like a kid saying something naughty. “He used to talk about you all the time, before all this. The pretty bookseller.”

“Now you’re just enjoying making me squirm,” You say, squinting at him despite how his words make your heart race.

“Maybe I am,” He jokes. “But I’m serious! You two are obviously into each other… right?”

“Officer–“

“Mike, please!”

“Mike,” You sigh with an attitude, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “Are you trying to profile me?”

His silence is enough of an answer to make you gasp.

“It’s not like that–“

“Mike, do you want to be a BAU profiler?!” The way you whisper makes all of this feel like a big secret ever. Your body is leaning over to try and get closer to him, and you’re so excited about knowing this that it makes you bounce a little in your feet. “Why didn’t you say something before? I’m sure Spence would help! You can ask him all the questions and–“

“I already too the FBI entrance exam once and didn’t get in,” He interrupts you with such abruptness that something in the air shifts. This is not fun anymore. It’s tense. “It’s fine. I’m happy doing my part here with the MPD.”

“You are,” You nod. “You really are. Thank you.”

That is the last of the small talk for the day, the next interviewee coming in before you can say another peep.

————————————

“Did you have a good time at the store today?”

This is the first time that you are not the one doing the waiting. Or the cooking. Or– “Did you clean?” You ask, a bit shocked with how spotless the entire place looks even though the air smells like tomato sauce and… something else?

“Why do you say this as something so hard to believe?” Spencer is baffled at your expression, laughing incredulously. “I live here! This is my apartment! I’ve been living by myself since I was 18!”

“I just never seen you clean!” You defend yourself with a lighthearted laughter.

“I’m thirty years old!”

“That just means you’re old,” And you two fall back to the usual teasings while you walk around the living room, dropping your coat and bag on the couch, and moving into the kitchen to help with whatever you can. “Oh my! And you even cooked! Careful Spence, you’re spoiling me… I might just want you to make me dinner everyday from now on.”

Spencer just shrugs with that little shy smile playing on his lips. “I could get used to spoiling you…”

“I could get used to being spoiled,” You mumble, eyes unwavering from his. Letting the tension of the moment grow, you push your hair behind your ears. “Can I help with anything?”

“Not really, I made sure to start it really so it would be ready when you came home,” He says and turns into a ball of excitement that is all limbs and fast words. You love him like this and so you listen, like you’ve been yearning to do all day. He tells you that this is a recipe that Rossi taught him a while ago, and the wine is the exact same one he recommended back then, and just as he says, when you look closely to the busy workspace on the kitchen isle, there they are– two glasses half-full. In a very Spence fashion, he goes on and on about the exactness of the ingredients and how the whole idea that cooking is about ‘feeling it’ is kind of stupid, but the more he talks, the more breathless you find yourself.

There is wine.

There are entrees, and it looks like Spencer did his due diligence, buying your favourite crackers from the deli nearby.

There are main dishes, sides, dessert; and you guess it is some sort of a tiramisu, catching the smudges of chocolate powder and coffee by the sink.

And then there is Spencer. There is Spencer back home early. Spencer wearing his favourite purple sweater. Spencer with his combed hair. Spencer without his phone? Now you are suspicious, looking around with a confused frown on your face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Where is your phone?” His satchel is also not where he usually leaves it, gone from it’s perch by the door.

“My phone?” He asks, sounding as confused as you. “Why do you need my phone?”

“I don’t, I just never seen you without it.”

“Oh,” That makes him laugh. “I don’t need it today.”

“Why not?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” Spencer catches you by the shoulder and brings you back to the set dinner. “Just sit down and enjoy this. We finally have some time to spend together.”

“You would never let anything kill me,” You say so easily that it can’t be anything else other than the truth. “Why don’t you need your phone?”

He snorts and turns to mix something in one of his many pans. “Because Hotch and Rossi forbade the team to call me tonight. Derek said he’d be on call instead.”

“That’s awfully nice of Mister Muscles,” You comment offhandedly and there is something about the way you notice Spencer tensing a little that makes your smirk.

“He has a girlfriend, you know.”

“Oh, I know– I heard it all from his baby girl, who is not his girlfriend, but is a big fan of that couple,” You say, happily smiling while munching on a cracker. “Why?”

“Just checking if you knew. A lot of girls are usually… taken… by Derek’s looks and charms, but he’s off the market now. I think Savannah is here to stay.”

Crinkling your nose at the though of dating Agent Derek Morgan, you quickly shake your head. “God, no, I’m not– No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he is objectively handsome, but he’s not my type.”

“Are we talking about the same Derek Morgan?” He scoffs without turning to you. “He is everyone’s type…”

“Not mine,” You repeat, silently getting up from where you sway your feet. With muted steps, you walk around the kitchen isle to stand behind him, fidgeting with your hands in a moment of unsureness.

Maybe you are reading this wrong. Not every man that does a nice gesture is interested in you, you know that mainly because you never really believe people are interested in you at all, but it’s getting progressively hard to not look at everything he had done for you and not think it is a date.

Before you can overthink this, Spencer is moving backwards. “Oh? What is your type, then– oh fuck!” Your arms go around his waist as soon as he bumps into you, and you don’t let him squirm away, even though he tries. “Y/N, wha-what are you doing…?”

Gently, you let your head fall onto his back, forehead pressing close to his nape. Silence reigns until you are ready to speak, but Spencer waits, tense and oh so patient. “Spencer,” You whisper with your broken voice, nerves getting the best of you and making you shake like a chihuahua. “Spencer, is this–“

Sweet as ever, his hand moves from the counter, where his knuckles are white with how hard he grips it, to a slow touch to your hand. Brushing his fingers overs your skin, he whispers back. “Is this what?”

“Spencer is this a…” Why can’t you bring yourself to say it?

Around you, there is noise. You hear the neighbours upstairs, the click-clack of their shoes echoing until they are gone. You hear the heater pipes reading themselves to work through the night once again. You hear the food in front of you two bubbling and sizzling. And my god, do you hear him… you hear his heart, beating, racing, so strong and fast, that you smile to yourself. This is all Spencer– every noise, every shake, every thump and thud of that amazing, loving heart of his.

“It is.”

Your arms squeeze around him in shock. “I didn’t even say it.”

“By now, you should know you don’t have to,” The soft cadence of his perfect pronunciation tells you that he is feeling confident and calm, and you bask in it for a second or two. Until he hits you with the million dollar question. “If Morgan is not your type, who is?”

“I want to say it, though.”

“Who is your type?”

It’s a weird battle of stubbornness between you two, but you don’t mind. You would fight this war forever, if it meant this– feeling him alive and breathing and laughing. “Let me say it,” You ask, smiling coyly even though he can’t see it. “Please.” His adorable little laughter sends a wave of ripples down his back and you press your face closer to feel it. “Say it then.”

“Spencer Reid, is this a date?”

“I was hoping it would be,” He says and pauses. “Y/N Y/L/N, am I your type?”

“I don’t really have a type,” You say slowly, pulling back a little to nudge him to turn around. You only smile when you see his eyes– those curious, curious eyes– that constantly look for answers for his questions. Sometimes, you don’t have answers, but he looks for them anyways. First in one, then the other. Spencer looks at you carefully, slowly, like you are something worth committing to that memory of his by the detail. Like he wants to remember you even when he closes his eyes. You see it, how you make him feel like he belongs, with your open smiles and blinking eyes. But you also see, for the first time, how you are also so much more. “But if I did, it would be you.”

You are a believer in silver linings.

And yes, Spencer might just be yours… specially with the way his lips feel against yours.

---------------------------------------

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ihavethedreamies · 8 months ago

Text

Cherry | Juicy Fruit | Haechan

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan - NCT Dream)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.2k

Pairing: Haechan x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: It all started with a cherry stem…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but as you can see by the word count, that didn't happen.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Do cherries come from the same trees as the flowers?" Your boyfriend was holding one of the red fruits by the stem. It spun back and forth in the air with prompting from his finger tips, another one being chewed in his mouth. You could hear the pit clacking against his teeth as he sucked it clean.

"I don't think so…" You wondered what prompted the question, only briefly glancing up from your phone at him. You were sitting at your kitchen table to eat. You had been looking over the different delivery menus, spread across the surface and you were scrolling through your phone to see who was open. Not only was it past normal meal hours, which was normally not too much of an issue, it was some kind of political holiday that only old people cared about. The only problem was that most of the people that would make the food you wanted were said old people. It was also more of something for families, not young couples who did a lot of the baby-making practice but with not desired end product.

"Okay, this place is only open for fifteen more minutes so they're out." You took the noodle menu off the table, placing it on the discard stack.

"Anything else look good or do we need to go to the convenience store?" You asked and when he didn't reply, you slammed your hand down to get his attention. He startled and his wide eyes were really very cute, but you would never admit it out loud, even in private with just him. While you loved him to pieces, you were very reluctant to voice it. After trying to say he was annoying for so many years, you were loath to admit you didn't hate him. You never did, you were just in denial about how much you liked him despite your harsh words. He saw through it.

"Donghyuck!" You scolded and he blinked.

"What?" He emphasized the vowel, and you rolled your eyes. His shocked face softened to a smug grin as he watched you watch him put the next cherry in his mouth, the other pit still in his cheek. His tongue wrapped around the red orb as he took it between his lips, and you shook your head to pull your attention away. He huffed in amusement, you were such a tsundere.

"What are we having for supper? I only got snacks and stuff…" You poked the container holding the cherries. You had planned on eating out or getting delivery, but the stupid holiday interfered with your regular Saturday night plans.

"We could have each other." Donghyuck smirked, chewing the last bits of fruit off the pit before rolling the two around his open mouth playfully. He knew your eyes were not just on his face, but specifically his tongue. You swallowed hard and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth open to scold him again. He let the pits fall out of his mouth and onto the paper plate where the rest of them laid and his smug look turned bored.

"Idiot." You clicked your tongue, face pink, "I need actual food."

"Hm, you might, but I could just eat you?" He winked and your let out a disgusted grunt, getting up from the table and moving to leave the apartment and head down the street.

"(Y/N), wait!" He cooed at you, skipping to follow you. When you started to wiggle your foot to slip it into your sneaker, he kneeled down to tie his. You struggled to get the shoe on without untying it, so he leaned forward to help you get them on. The sweet gesture made your cheeks warm further, but you didn't say anything, so he helped you get the other on. He stood back up with a hop, still taller than you even though he was standing on the lowered part of the floor by the door.

"Ready, milady~?" He held his arm out for you to link with, but you just mumbled something and walked past him and out. Your boyfriend sighed dramatically but followed after you still. You always made up for your dismissive behavior after he railed you into the next morning, turning affectionate and playful. He continued to try and seduce you through the not subtle act of aegyo, and you kept shoving him away, especially as you walked down the road. Donghyuck held the door open for you as you entered the convenience store. The inside was just as dead as the streets, and it felt nearly surreal. You each shopped around a bit, and he got nearly twice as much food as you, and for some reason he felt the need to buy everything he could find that was cherry flavored.

"You know none of this stuff tastes like actual cherries, right?" you asked, watching him place the different candies and sweets down. The only thing you would actually consume was the cherry flavored cola he got as well.

"I know. That's what the actual cherries are for." He pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not wanting to admit it even in your own head, the blank look he gave you was just as cute as everything else he did. It pissed you off a bit that he was so endearing. The tired cashier told you your price and your boyfriend had his card in the reader before you could even pull yours out. He took all of the bags as well and you opened the door for him that time.

"Did you need to buy all of that?" You grumbled, eyeing the five bags he was carrying.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." He answered after donning a pondering look.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, not caring enough to delve further into that line of questioning.

"Did you get everything cherry flavored?"

"Not everything…"

"What did you leave behind, cough syrup?"

"The condoms." He stated simply and you halted for a beat, then jogged to catch up.

"Why not?" You finally relented to ask. He tossed you a coy look, "they didn't have the right size." You halted a step but conceded his point and jogged to catch back up. When you finally got back to the apartment, he put the bags on the coffee table, and you grabbed your meal to heat it up in the microwave. As you plugged in the numbers, Hyuck came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"What?" you asked flatly, and he whined pathetically, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

"Can't I hug my girlfriend?" You didn't reply to his question, so he took that as the go ahead to continue. As he smelled your food as it got done, he realized how famished he was and hurried to make his own. Some random variety show played on the TV while you both ate, he devoured twice as much food as you did in nearly half the time. Once you were both done and everything was cleaned up, he laid out all the cherry candies and snacks, as well as some real ones.

"We shall judge them for quality." He motioned broadly and you sat next to him at the coffee table. Hyuck was a bit surprised at how close you willingly sat, pressed to his side. You were warming up. You started to sort through them, pushing the ones you refused to try to the side.

"You need to have the full picture to make an informed decision." He told you with false condescension. He sniffed and picked up the first packet to rip it open. The fake cherry scent hit your nose and you sneered, reaching over the table to grab a real one. As you chewed, he started in on the candy and his face twisted, putting the bag down and grabbing a fruit himself. You pulled the pit from your mouth and set it on your napkin from supper and he did the same.

"Can you tie a knot with your tongue?" He held up one of the stems and you hummed.

"I don't know, I haven't tried." You took it from him, and he plucked another one off a cherry for himself.

"Let's see who can do it faster." He decided and you nodded in agreement and you both watched the other as you took the stems into your mouths. You focused hard, trying to maneuver the little piece with your tongue into the right configuration, but it was no use. When you almost choked on it, you pulled it out, nose crinkled.

"Nope." You turned to look at him and he stuck his tongue out at you, the tied stem resting on the surface

"How the heck!?" You grabbed the little stem from where it laid, looking it over.

"Want me to show you?" His tone had deepened, but you were too confused to register it.

"Yeah!" You turned to watch, not expecting his mouth to connect to yours. Your shocked inhalation allowed his tongue entry and you wanted to fight, but you also really didn't. Hyuck smirked into the kiss as you let out a tiny mewl, expertly twisting his tongue around yours. You moaned when he led you to straddle his lap, pushing the coffee table away with his foot. When you settled, his hands on your hips pushed you down, grinding your covered cunt over his hard cock. You whined, trying to pull back, but he held you still, sucking on your tongue so you couldn't easily pull back. He had a hard time not laughing when your entire body shuddered. Finally, he let you go, you leaned back, panting hard.

"Fucking hell-" Your fingers were clenching the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"I can do more than that~" He hummed playfully, and you blinked, "huh?" Your noise of question was followed by a yelp as he lifted you, setting you on the couch behind him, turning to he faced you. Another tug brought your butt to the edge of the cushion, and he took advantage of your surprise to yank your shorts and panties off without hinderance.

"H-Hyuck~!" You whimpered when he instantly brought his skillful tongue to your cunt, wriggling it inside, nose hitting your clit. You sighed shakily, legs twitching when he hummed, the vibration ringing through him to you.

"Wait-" You tried to get him to stop, extremely embarrassed at your position and feeling weird about how fast he was bringing you to climax. You shuddered again as his tongue left your core, stroking up through your folds to flick your clit. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his stupid grin right before he sucked on your clit hard. Hyuck's hands flew to your hips to hold them down as you came, helping you ride it out.

"Too bad I can't pop your cherry…" He mumbled, a little embarrassed at his stupid pun. You huffed in disbelief, having heard him perfectly fine even though he kind of hid it.

"Doesn't fucking matter, get inside me-" he had never heard you so impatient, but he was more than willing to abide. He removed your top as you helped him get rid of his own clothes, and your back barely hit the couch cushions before he was pressing into you. Even if you hadn't just came on his tongue, you were soaking wet, your gummy walls clenching desperately to his cock.

"Aw~ sweet girl~" He huffed in delight as your cunt quivered, getting used to the stretch and before you were fully acclimated, he started to move.

"Wait, Hyuck!" Your hands grabbed his shoulders. When he leaned over you move, he took your hands from him, holding them above your head with one of his. His lips hovered over yours, hips rolling slowly but hard, fat cock battering your back wall. You practically cried when he kissed you again, tongue reentering your mouth to capture yours. You were helpless under him, sanity quickly leaving between his cock in your cunt and his tongue down your throat. When air was getting a bit low, he finally removed his mouth from yours, moving it to your jaw and down the column of your throat. You whimpered with each thrust, getting steadily faster and harder as he sucked your skin. His goal was to make the hickeys are red as the cherries you both had been eating earlier.

"Hyuck, I~" You couldn't get the rest of your sentence out. His hand had let go of your wrists, both of them going to your waist so he could shift positions. He sat back up move, hiking your hips up to arch your back and after an extremely practiced and hard thrust, he chuckled as you came again. He groaned at the tight flutter of your walls and couldn't help but fall over the edge himself. You whimpered when he finally let your legs and hips relax, not pulling out of you yet. With a tired gaze, you watched him reach and grab a bottle you hadn't noticed before from the coffee table, barely within reach. He popped the cap on the red container, an equally red substance spilling out and dripping over your skin. You shivered at the cold, and he licked his lips.

"Hmm… cherry flavored (Y/N)~"

-> Series Hub <-

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NCT Master List

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sxcret-garden · 7 months ago

Text

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true.

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding.

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp.

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better.

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you.

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him.

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?"

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again.

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you.

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?"

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..."

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders,

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core.

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now."

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him.

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.”

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around.

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

#ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez x reader #ateez x fem reader #ateez x you #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez series #ateez drabbles #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #smut

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hugmekenobi · 7 months ago

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (3)

Chapter Three: Shadows of Tantiss

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Time is against Omega and Crosshair as they finally make the move to escape

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of food and the importance of self-care, the Force and meditation works how I say it can, reader is a bit more forceful in making Hunter look after himself lol, Hemlock and Palpatine, threatening insinuations, light angst, again my interpretations of headspaces, limited use of (y/n)

Word Count: 3.7K

Author's notes: The people have spoken (it was three people but people I greatly appreciate and it was enough) so here is the third chapter too! Very much sticking with the episode plot because the main focus is on Crosshair and Omega for this one but there's still an added moment in the beginning! Enjoy and I'm excited to start chapter four!

“You picking up anything?” Wrecker asked your cross-legged form that was seated by the tree at the top of Pabu.

You heaved an annoyed sigh as you sat there. “Nope. I don’t know if it’s cause I’m out of practice or if she’s really somewhere I can’t reach or both, but I can’t get a read on her.” You then sensed Wrecker’s slight unease. “What’s up?”

“Well… um… Hunter’s talking about heading out immediately.”

“Mm-hmm.” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun as you opened them to look at him. “And that’s a problem because?”

“Come on, (Y/N), we can’t just drop the kids here and leave. That’s not fair to them. Plus, Shep offered us a break and- and I- I think it would be good if we got some actual food in our systems. Supplies haven’t exactly been easy to come by when you’re travelling as much as we are.”

You had to agree with him there. You got to your feet and followed his eyes and saw Hunter disengage from a conversation with Shep and stride back to the Marauder. “And what exactly do you want me to do here?”

“Just…” He breathed heavily. “I dunno. Talk to him? Try to get him to listen? He won’t hear us out but- but your relationship is different and- and it’s not just for me, okay. Do it for him. I know things are better but…” He trailed off. “But I’m still worried about him that’s all.”

His sensitivity to the situation never failed to strike a chord with you. You patted his arm. “We’re family, Wrecker. I’d do it just for you anyway.”

Wrecker let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”

You walked away from him towards the ship and as you stepped aboard, you saw Hunter sitting back by the navicomputer with his sight fixed firmly on the datapad. “You know, the sector isn’t going to change if you don’t look at it every two minutes.”

“I’m just making sure we have it correct and ready to go. Can you get Wrecker?” Hunter asked without looking at you yet.

“About that…” You came to stand in front of him and placed your fingers under his chin to get him to face you. “What’s this about you wanting to just leave the cadets and take off? Shep’s offering us some decent food and we could rest up before we depart.”

“We don’t have time.” He maintained.

“No one’s talking about a five-course meal. It’s a quick sit down where you can put those clones at ease about this new situation that they’re in and you take a moment to just look after yourself.”

“I don’t need-”

“Hunter, when was the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t just rations?” You interrupted sternly. The mere fact that he couldn’t answer told you that it had been far too long. “Look, we don’t know what we’re going to face out there and we all need to be at full strength and ration bars can’t always cut it. It’s not just you involved in this either. Wrecker has been at it non-stop too and he deserves a moment of respite and something that isn’t a flavourless stick and so do you.

“(Y/N)-”

“Thirty minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

As Hunter saw the determined look in your face, he heaved a sigh, but put the datapad down. He had never wanted his tunnel-vision with this search to negatively impact the rest of you but thanks to you, he realised now that if he had insisted on leaving immediately, then that’s exactly what he’d be doing.

Taking that as your answer, you took a hold of his hands and started to pull.

“Half an hour?” Hunter double checked as he let you tug him from the chair.

“Half an hour.” You confirmed with a nod. “Then we can get going again.”

Omega was already on her feet and waiting by the door when Emerie opened it.

“Good morning, Omega. Come along, there is much to do today.”

Omega followed Emerie through the usual route to the testing room but as she walked in and hopped up onto the examination table, she noticed there were more troopers patrolling and there was a new kind of tension in the air. “Something’s different.” She shared her observation aloud to Emerie. “Why are there so many troopers around?”

“I’m not certain.” Emerie replied.

“You don’t know?” Omega queried, not fully understanding how Emerie could be so content not knowing about what was going on around her.

“The doctor will inform me if it’s necessary.” Emerie prepared the blood drawing equipment and took the sample from Omega.

The door opened and they both turned to see Hemlock and Nala Se enter the lab.

“Emerie, a word?” Hemlock called over.

Emerie put the sample in the tray and walked over to him.

“An unexpected guest arriving shortly. Nala Se and I will be indisposed until he departs. Oversee the lab in her absence.”

“As you wish, Doctor. I will begin testing the latest samples.”

“That is unnecessary.” Nala Se interjected. “I will see to them when I return.” She had been doing her job in keeping Omega safe and having Emerie carry out the tests jeopardised all of it.

“Dr. Karr’s quite capable of handling such matters.” Hemlock ignored the Kaminoan’s objections and faced Emerie. “See it done.” His attentions were then commandeered when Scorch walked through the doors.

“Sir.”

“Is everything in order?”

“Affirmative. The shuttle has left the orbital station and the coordinated were transmitted.”

Nala Se stepped away from Hemlock to walk over to Omega as she saw Emerie gather the samples and leave the lab. She pretended to examine the records on the screen as she quietly addressed the young girl, “Omega… listen carefully. If Emerie tests your sample, you will be in danger. You must flee this facility before it is too late.”

“Wait. Is that why you’ve been destroying my sample?” Omega whispered back.

“Yes.” Nala Se replied. “Project-” But Hemlock’s voice interrupted her.

“Nala Se, come along. Our guest is arriving.”

“Go to the lab, retrieve my datapad and use it to escape. Sneak aboard a shuttle and flee.” Nala Se instructed before she left with Hemlock.

Omega made her way to the lab, her nerves growing as she saw the vast number of patrolling troopers, but she couldn’t second guess now, Nala Se made it clear she had to go, and she could make it work, she just needed the datapad and Crosshair.

She entered the lab and saw that Emerie had already placed all the samples, including hers into the centrifuge.

“Did you need something, Omega?” Emerie asked.

“I… Hemlock said there’s a guest arriving.” She released an awkward chuckle. “Who is it?”

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie replied briskly. “See to your tasks for the day.” When Omega made no move to leave, she properly looked at her. “Are you feeling well? Forget your assignments and get some rest.”

“Okay.” Omega said lightly before she made her way over to Nala Se’s datapad but Emerie’s voice stopped her from taking it.

“Omega, I can handle things here. Go. I’ll check on you later.” Emerie insisted.

Double checking that Emerie’s attention was elsewhere again, Omega grabbed the datapad and ran out of the lab.

“We have quadrupled our objectives in record time.” Hemlock informed Emperor Palpatine as he led him to the vault. “The exotic matter facilities have expanded, providing alteration and testing of much larger assets.”

“I have need of such grand designs. However, that is not the reason why I am here today.”

“Of course. Project Necromancer.” With that, Hemlock activated the door to the vault.

Omega made her way to the detention level and covertly ran to the cell where her brother was lying on the cell cot. “Crosshair.” She whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Crosshair asked irritably.

“Escaping. And you’re coming with me.”

Crosshair reluctantly sat up and regarded the girl with scepticism. “You found a weak point?”

“Not exactly. I’m kinda improvising.”

“Is that some kind of a joke?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get the guards’ attention.”

Crosshair sighed, “That’s not a plan.”

Omega released a disgruntled scoff, and she did not want to entertain this argument, “Just distract him.” She insisted.

His longing for freedom trumped his displeasure at the fact that this kid seemed to lack any sort of proper strategic thinking. So, he got to his feet and walked towards the bars of his cell and addressed the two troopers standing down the corridor. “Guards!”

Omega waited round the corner and watched as one of them approached Crosshair’s door.

��Unlock this cell.” Crosshair demanded.

“What did you say?”

“I was giving you an order.”

The guard scoffed and called back to his partner, “This clone thinks he outranks us.”

“I do.” Crosshair replied simply as he saw the other guard coming to join. “And I’ll take your blaster too.”

“Oh yeah?” The trooper challenged with a mocking laugh. “How are you gonna do that?”

Whilst this was happening, Omega used the opening to place her datapad into the now unmanned centre console and programmed Crosshair’s cell door to unlock.

“You’ll see.” Crosshair didn’t have to wait long until his door opened, and he instantly overpowered the trooper. He stole his blaster and used his body as a shield from the oncoming stun blasts from the second stormtrooper whilst he fired his own stun blast in return and they both fell the ground.

“Nice work.” Omega praised as he put them back behind the cell door.

“Didn’t have much choice.” Crosshair griped as he picked up the second blaster.

“You’re out of the cell, aren’t you?” Omega countered smugly as she removed the datapad and caught the blaster he tossed to her before they both started running.

“Well? Start talking.” Crosshair said as he waited for her to get the next door open.

“I told you. We’re escaping.” Omega repeated.

“Why now? What’s changed?”

“Nala Se said I had to. And I wasn’t gonna leave without you.”

Crosshair let that sink in for a moment. It wasn’t a sentiment he was used to hearing or experiencing, and whilst he held responsibility for that, it was still strange to here coming from someone who had no true reason to have any loyalty to him.

“She told me to use her datapad to access the base and find a shuttle. We just need to get to a hangar.” Omega continued explaining as she finally got the door open.

They took cover behind the hallway’s centre console as a squadron of stormtrooper passed and they overheard part of their musings.

“We’re not supposed to be on patrol until midwatch.”

“Commander’s orders. All hands-on deck until the Emperor departs.”

“The Emperor’s here?” Crosshair hissed.

“What? I didn’t know.” Omega said defensively as she looked through the manifest of available shuttles.

Crosshair released another exasperated sigh. “Another reason why this was not the day to wing an escape.”

“Thanks for the reminder, but I think we’re past that point.” It was then that Omega noticed the tremor in his hand as he held the blaster. “Your hand’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“I- It’s fine.” Crosshair said with a dismissive grunt as he willed it to stop shaking.

Not having time to push the matter yet, Omega turned her focus back to the screen but what she saw was not good. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

She took the datapad out. “All the shuttles have been grounded, except the Emperor’s. We’ll have to steal it.”

The sheer simplicity in which she said that had him realising that his brothers may have entertained one too many crazy ideas in his absence. “Impossible. It will be too well-guarded, even for me.”

Omega pondered through any possible alternatives in her head and then she came to the realisation with a gasp. “Wait. I know a shuttle we can use. It crash-landed outside the perimeter back when I first came here.”

“How does a crashed shuttle help us?”

“If the comms are still functioning, we can contact the others.”

He could concede that that part of this ill-conceived ‘plan’ wasn’t totally far-fetched. “And how do we get outside?”

“Follow me.”

“As you can see, the specimens are well-guarded to ensure they remain viable for testing. However, with more time, and additional resources, I am confident that we will have a successful M-count replication.” Hemlock revealed to the cloaked figure.

“There is nothing of greater importance to secure the future of this Empire. Whatever is needed to accomplish this goal, you will have it.”

“Thank you, Emperor.” Hemlock made to show him out, but he only turned to face him. His yellow eyes the only thing visible underneath the cloak as they regarded him with curiosity but also with a hint of disappointment.

Palpatine did not follow the scientist immediately. “I did here word, however, one such specimen escaped your grasp.” He commented. “One that perhaps could offer you more than those that are already under your… observations.”

Hemlock’s posture stiffened and he massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “It was an unfortunate error but one I am hoping to rectify.”

Palpatine only silently nodded before he started to walk out.

As they entered the kennels, they didn’t give the droid much time to react. A few blasts from their blasters and he was down.

“Now what?” Crosshair asked.

“We’ll use the kennel chute.” Omega said as she readied the controls. “It leads outside, but it’s protected by a timed ray shield. We’ll have to move fast or we’ll be trapped.”

Crosshair regarded the aggressive barking hounds uneasily. “Oh, I can hardly wait.”

“We can use Batcher’s empty kennel. Be ready.” She opened the chute, but the door whirred open.

“Omega.”

Crosshair cocked his blaster towards the woman that walked in.

“Don’t!” Omega placed her hand on his arm to get him to lower it.

Crosshair didn’t listen, he kept his sights trained on her.

“You should go back to your room.” Emerie advised as she advanced towards them.

“You mean her cell.” Crosshair snapped.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Neither of you.” Emerie said. “But it’s not too late. Come with me and no one needs to know about this.”

“I can’t do that.” Omega responded firmly.

“Omega-”

“I spent most of my life confined on Kamino. I won’t be trapped here too.” She looked imploringly at the older clone. “You’re a clone like us, Emerie. Help us.”

Crosshair could tell Omega’s words weren’t doing enough to convince her and he set his blaster to stun.

“Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good.” She pressed the security alarm, but the stun shot hit her immediately afterwards.

The dreaded sound of the comms steady chirp told Crosshair he’d reacted a split second too late. “We have to go.”

Omega activated the first kennel door and the two of them ran down the chute.

Hemlock watched the Emperor’s shuttle depart with a growing sense of pride as the possibility of becoming the scientific minister felt closer than it ever had before.

“Sir.”

Hemlock half turned his head to the sound of Scorch’s voice. “What is it?” He asked tightly.

“Omega and CT-9904 are missing.”

He turned around fully. “Missing?” He glanced over at Nala Se and though her face didn’t give much away, he was sure she was involved somehow.

“An alarm was just triggered in the lurca kennels.”

“Seal it off.” He ordered.

An alarm blared through the tunnel and the shields throughout the chut started to turn back on.

“The shield’s not supposed to be active yet.” Omega said in distress.

“They know we’re in here.” Crosshair realised before he increased his speed. “Move faster!”

Together, they both managed to dive out of the exit just as the last shield activated.

Crosshair peered into the dark forest ahead. “What direction is the crashed shuttle?”

“Not sure.” Omega replied.

“Oh, great.” Crosshair muttered impatiently before he looked up to the sound of a shuttle leaving the base. “We’ll follow the flight path.”

“I’m picking up something.” Omega said as she looked at the datapad whilst they both came to a stop. “I think it could be the ship. That way.” She pointed ahead but the cry of a vicious snarl grabbed both their attention.

“Oh, good. The killer hounds.” Crosshair said wryly.

They started their run again but with Omega being so focused on the screen, she tumbled over a tree root.

Crosshair picked up the loose datapad and helped the girl up to her feet.

“Thanks.” Omega said but then she heard a new kind of animal growl, and she peered past Crosshair to see a giant bear-like creature standing tall on two legs. “Crosshair.” She said nervously.

Crosshair pointed his blaster, but he knew by the sheer size of the creature that there wouldn’t be much he could do.

Suddenly, the hounds came running in and rather than come after them, they charged at the creature, and they gratefully took the opportunity to keep running to the downed shuttle.

They reached the shuttle and Omega got to work on powering it up whilst Crosshair kept watch.

Having been dismissed by Dr. Hemlock when she’d come too, Emerie made her way back to the lab to do as he instructed and monitor things there. The monotonous click of the centrifuge blended into the background as she worked.

“Anything?” Crosshair asked.

Omega hit the control panel in sheer frustration. “It’s not working!” She let out a defeated sigh. “Comms are completely dead.” She put the datapad into a supply pack she’d found, grabbed her blaster, and put the pack on her back and came out to join Crosshair.

“They’re coming.” Crosshair said as he heard the low sound of engines approaching and he signalled to Omega to take cover to the side of the shuttle.

“I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” Omega

He may have been doubtful in the beginning, but it was clear that what he originally thought was careless thinking was actually rooted in that out-of-the-box thinking that had gotten him and his brother’s their success during the war and time thereafter. She had done something just by finding a way outside. Now, he could bring in his own experience. “You got us this far. And we’re not done yet. Did they teach plan 72?”

“Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans.”

Despite the situation, he couldn’t help the small but fond smile that graced his face upon hearing that. “Of course he did.”

The two of them got in position as the shuttle arrived.

He looked at his hand with anger and infuriation as his aim was off with the first shot and all he could do was retreat into the treeline whilst they fired back at him.

With Crosshair’s distraction giving the opening she needed, Omega made her way to one of the cables the troopers had used to descend. But before she could get up, a stormtrooper cocked his blaster.

“Stand down.”

She awkwardly turned and waved to the soldier. “Hello.”

“I said, stand down.” He repeated forcefully.

Omega watched with shock as a lurca hound came snarling out from a bush and took out the trooper and when he got to his feet and aimed at the hound, she got her own stun blast away. “Batcher?” The answering happy bark told her the answer. “Stay close.” With that, Batcher went to take care of the troopers and she hooked onto the cable and ascended.

With the hound Omega had befriended making her appearance, Crosshair was able to take out more guards than he thought he would’ve been able to.

If things had gone according to plan, he would be able to join Omega in the shuttle in a few minutes. He just needed to bide his time.

Sure enough, as he took out one other trooper, the shuttle started to move wildly out of position and as he took cover from an onslaught of blaster fire, the shuttle fired down on the remaining troopers, and he hastily made his way across the rocks to reach the opening ship doors.

Omega steadied the shuttle and came down the lift to provide Crosshair with cover fire as he came in board and headed up to the pilot’s chair.

Crosshair reached the seat and chucked the pilot out the hatch.

Hearing the doors getting ready to shut, Omega took cover and whistled for Batcher. “Batcher, come!”

When the dog was safely inside, Crosshair shut the doors and got the ship in the air.

Emerie had gotten so used to the monotonous drone of the centrifuge that it had become mere background noise. So much so that she almost missed the new rhythmic beeping that chimed as a new sample clicked into position. Emerie stood up and investigated the screen and the realisation with what she saw, stunned her.

The troopers had only been half the problem. Despite having escaped the ground assault, they were now trying to out fly V-wing shuttles and the bases’ laser cannons and one of them managed to hit the shuttle.

“They’re locking onto us!” Omega shouted as alarms blared throughout the shuttle. “I can’t shake them! Systems are failing.”

“I want that ship neutralized.” Hemlock insisted heatedly as he watched map in main control room.

“Stop! Don’t shoot them down!” Emerie urged as she entered the room.

“What?” Hemlock snapped.

“The clone’s sample supported a positive M-count transfer with no degradation from the specimen.”

“CT-9904 was ruled out long ago.” Hemlock argued.

“Not him. It’s Omega.” Emerie revealed, showing him the results.

Hemlock studied the datapad and saw what she was talking about. “Call them off!” He directed Scorch.

“But, sir, they’re escaping.” Scorch tried to protest.

“Stand down!” Hemlock insisted. “We need her alive.”

Not looking to question the reason as to why they peeled off, Crosshair shouted to Omega. “Now!”

Omega launched the ship into hyperspace.

Hemlock watched the ship disappear off the map.

“They’ve jumped.” Scorch confirmed.

Hemlock released a short sigh. “A minor setback. I have the full resources of the Empire at my disposal. We will find her. And with her gone, she will lead us to someone else who will prove most useful to our endeavours.” With that, he exited the room.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @fuckoffthanos, @graciexmarvel, @tpwkcalli, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @sunkissedclones, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #angst #hurt/comfort

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 2 years ago

Text

love me tender...or maybe not - lust fall

pairing: cupid bf!Wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. BooSeok)

genre: fluff, humor, smut. minors dni.

warnings: making out, fingering, soft dom!reader (also kind of a service top but has some mean moments), sub!wonwoo, reader is experienced and wonu loses his virginity, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill but still wrap it yk), hair pulling, marking, slight breeding kink, cumplay, mentions of dacryphilia, wonu slips into sub space, very mild degradation, use of pet names (angel, baby, pretty boy),

word count: 3.1k (this got a tad bit outta hand folks)

Author’s note: wheeeee it’s here! one more chapter left to wrap up these mini-series ;-; A big thank you to @duhnova, @junkissed and @flowerwonu for helping me out with this fic!

series taglist: @enhacolor @misssugarlips @flowerwonu @duhnova @heartkyeom @junkissed @himbocoups @wonwussy @idyllic-ghost

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17

“A hair color change? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why does it sound so weird to you?”

“It’s not weird, it’s weird coming from you” Seungkwan opens the glass lid, carefully placing the cupcakes inside.

“What’s wrong with me wanting to change my hair color? I could use a change, after all” Wonwoo runs a hand through his black hair.

“I mean, sure, but….Have you given it any thought or are you just going with the flow?”

“I was thinking of asking for recommendations first-”

“I think purple would look nice on you, hyung!” Seokmin joins the conversation.

“Utter bullshit” Seungkwan scoffs, “Don’t listen to him, hyung - You should definitely go for silver.”

“Purple is way more fun and playful!” Seokmin bites back.

“Silver is more mature and sexy!” Seungkwan argues.

“Purple!”

“Silver!”

“If you keep this up, I will shave my head” Wonwoo deadpans, visibly annoyed by his two annoyed friends.

“NO!” they both yell at him and he’s taken aback by their reaction.

“Okay no need to make the cafeteria a warzone!” he throws his hands in the air to his defense and he manages to calm the spirits down, “I will take your recommendations into account though, so thanks for these.”

“When are you going to book an appointment?” Seokmin asks out of curiosity, the washcloth in his hand, cleaning the counter.

“What appointment?”

“An appointment to a hair salon, idiot” Seungkwan comments, “You’re not seriously thinking of dyeing your hair by yourself, are you?”

“Uhhh”

“That is simply unacceptable! You cannot possibly risk to destroy your own hair without the help of a professional-”

“Thanks but no thanks!” Wonwoo cuts Seungkwan off, softly holding his forearms, “I really appreciate the fact that you care about my scalp, but I know what I am doing - you can trust me on that.”

“Okay, if you say so…. But don’t come back bald and cry to me!” the younger man warns him, pointing his finger at him.

The day at the cafeteria passes in a blur - customers come and go, coffee cups and other delicacies flying around, passing from hand to hand. A rather hectic blur, one would say - but a satisfying one, for both customers and workers in that shop.

It’s Wonwoo’s lucky day - he was only on morning shift today so he left the shop around three o’clock (he could have left earlier, but he’s a clean freak and washed the entire counter).

But he’s not feeling particularly lucky right now - because he has spent at least half an hour looking at hair dyes and trying to distinguish the different shades.

“This is so not going well” he mutters to himself while looking at three different shades, which seem absolutely the same to him.

“Hello sir! Do you need help?”

Wonwoo almost yells from the jumpscare, looking at the saleswoman who’s currently looking at him with a beaming smile.

“H-Hello, yeah I could use some help here….”

“Are you looking for a specific shade?”

“Uh, I just want a silver and a purple, that’s all….” he mutters awkwardly.

“Interesting combo - Have you tried it bef-”

“It’s for my girlfriend!” he immediately adds, not wanting to embarrass himself even longer.

“Okay then, I see!” she exclaims and takes one last look at Wonwoo’s hair, rummaging through the hair dye boxes and she’s handing over three boxes, with the exact shades he was looking for.

“These two are the colors and this is bleach - using the bleach first is recommended because it will help changing into lighter colors easier than going straight with the dye” she points at the unfamiliar box.

“Oh, that’s….pretty useful. Thanks.” he nods with a tight lipped smile.

“Hope you’ll end up with a nice result!” the saleswoman waves at him and Wonwoo’s face flushes from embarrassment as he heads over to the cashier.

“Am I even doing this right?“ Wonwoo, mutters to himself, mixing the two color tubes in the plastic cup, looking at himself while he's waiting for the bleach to take effect.

He grabs the paper with the instructions again, reading them sentence by sentence to make sure he's following them step by step.

"Section your hair and apply the color evenly….Okay, that's not too hard" he tilts his head, starting to do as the instructions say.

"Wait, how long was I supposed to-"

"Wonwoo? What are you doing here?"

This time, Wonwoo actually yells and almost knocks everything off the bathroom counter, visibly startled by your sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?!" he asks in a panicked state.

"What do you mean?" you laugh, "I live here with you!"

"Well yeah, obviously - I mean why are you here? Weren't you supposed to come later?"

"Last class ended earlier so here I am" you simply comment, your eyes fixated on the opened hair dye, "But you didn't answer my original question, Won" you get the plastic bowl in your hands, mixing the color with the brush.

"What are you doing in the bathroom, Wonwoo?"

Busted, he thinks, head hanging low in embarrassment.

"I saw you looking through Pinterest the other day and you were infatuated over lilac colored hair…..And I wanted to surprise you…"

"With changing your own hair color?" you look at him with wide eyes and he nods shyly, averting his gaze from you.

"You are the cutest angel boyfriend I could ever ask for" you laugh and cup his cheeks, pressing a kiss on his lips.

"Thank you….But the surprise is ruined now" Wonwoo pouts in disappointment, but his eyes shoot up when he feels your hands on his hair, swiftly parting them into sections, starting to apply the mixed color on the now bleached strands.

"Y/N? What are you-"

"Shh, trust me on this one" you reassure him, slowly dragging the plastic brush across his scalp.

"But-"

"I'll just apply the color, after that I'll wait for you to dry it and see the ending result - Don't wanna ruin the surprise, right?"

"Okay then" Wonwoo relaxes his shoulders, the wings on his back still contracted.

About an hour later, you're waiting for your boyfriend, hoping nothing went wrong.

"Hey" you see Wonwoo peeking

"Took you long enough" you tease him, trying to peek under the towel resting on his head.

"I just needed some time to….accommodate to the change" he rubs his nape and he drags the towel off his head, revealing his new hair.

To say the result was a pleasant surprise would be an understatement.

Wonwoo's previous black hair has been replaced by a striking lavender color, a discreet yet fascinating silver sheen adorning his locks.

If he wasn’t a cupid, you would have sworn he’s a faerie.

“Wonwoo, your hair….It’s….Oh my God” you get up from the bed, and thread your fingers in his still soft hair, enamored with your boyfriend’s new look.

“Y-You like it?” he asks, “I don’t know what to think of it”

“Are you kidding me? Wonwoo, you look utterly stunning” you say breathlessly, the pads of your fingers playing with the roots of his hair, “My pretty, pretty angel.”

Wonwoo lets out a small moan at the pet name, the combination of your voice praising his appearance and your hands playing with his lavender colored locks has him feeling weak in the knees.

“Y/N…..” he looks at you with pleading eyes, his palms wrapped around your wrists, dragging one of your hands down on his chest, breathing getting heavier and more uneven.

“Say what you want, angel. Say it and I will do it for you” you cup his cheeks lovingly, waiting for his answer.

“C-Can you take off my shirt? Please?”

“God, you beg so prettily” you curse under your breath and take off his shirt, revealing his toned body, running your hands over his spine and pressing your fingers right on the base of his wing junctions, making his magenta wings rustle and reveal, eliciting a whine from the cupid’s mouth.

“That…..That’s cheating” Wonwoo groans, feeling his pants getting tighter and tighter, his self control wearing thin.

“Not my fault you’re an open book to me” you grin and tug him towards the bed, pushing him flat on the mattress with one swift motion, climbing over his lap.

“If I’m going too fast, let me know and I’ll st- mmfh!”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you complete your sentence by smashing his lips on yours, bringing you close to his body and wrapping his arms around your back, eagerly chasing your lips, getting drunk into your scent.

“Please please please touch me, Y/N, I need you so fucking bad-”

“Angel…you shouldn’t use bad words like those” you hold his jaw in place with your hand, peppering butterfly kisses across his jawline.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters with a small pout.

“That’s more like it” you smile, fingers fiddling with your clothes, taking everything off right in front of Wonwoo’s lust-blown eyes.

You’re stark naked on his lap, raking your nails over his nape and playing with the freshly dyed hairs, watching his face scrunch in pleasure, the man struggling to stay still.

“You know you can touch me, right, Wonwoo?” you tug at his hair a bit more forcefully, making him moan from the stinging sensation on his scalp.

“I need to take my pants off first” he laughs breathlessly and you lift yourself off his lap to give him enough space to remove his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes zone in on his already hard cock, your hand practically itching to grab it.

“Already so hard, angel?” you attempt to align your pussy with his length, but Wonwoo stops you by holding your hips still, wings unsettling behind him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, his expression completely unreadable.

“I….Um…”

“You don’t feel ready yet?” you whisper softly, your hands cupping Wonwoo’s burning cheeks, “You can still back down from it if you aren’t sure-”

“No, please, I….I really want this” he tightens the grip on your hips, “I just don’t want to…hurt you in the process….?”

“About that…” you take his hand and guide it towards your naked pussy, a gasp echoing from your boyfriend’s mouth when his digits come in contact with your soaked slit, biting his bottom lip when he drags his fingers across your slit, making you moan lowly.

“Yeah, that feels so nice, fuck” you rest your hands on his shoulders, “Don’t be s-shy, you can slide t-them in” you rake your nails on his scalp, your hips starting to move with a consciousness of their own.

“L-Like that?” Wonwoo asks timidly as he slowly plunges two of his slender digits in your heat, your head involuntarily falling into the crevice of his neck as your walls greedily clamp down on his fingers.

“God yes, just like that” you whine in response, “It feels so damn good, Wonu, you’re doing so good.”

The constant praises urge Wonwoo to move his fingers inside you, the need to see your face scrunched in pleasure getting the better of him - thus he slides them in and out of your now dripping core, his bottom lip caught by his teeth as he watches your essence coat his hand in awe.

“This is what you d-do to me, Nonu” you whisper in his ear, “And it’s just your fingers, shit- Imagine how good your cock will feel-”

At this moment, Wonwoo takes away his fingers, leaving your pussy high and empty, sucking his fingers clean with a lewd, satisfied hum.

“You little-”

“I couldn't hold myself any longer, I desperately need to be inside you, please” he begs you, his lips colliding with your neck, sloppily dragging them across your skin.

You give it zero thought and you line your entrance with his cock, carefully sinking down on him, your eyes rolling in the back of your head from the delicious stretch.

“Fuuuuuck….” you let out a loud moan, your hands perched on Wonwoo’s chest as you try to accommodate to his size.

“Oh God, oh my God” he groans, his palms smoothing over your thighs, “You’re so…tight and warm, baby…”

“Just give me a few seconds, Nonu, just a few seconds and I’ll give you the time of your life, angel” you sigh, pressing a kiss on his left collarbone as you try your best to relax around him.

“Wait- w-what about protection?” Wonwoo asks in a haste.

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry your pretty head about it” you swiftly reply, making yourself comfortable in his lap.

“O-Okay then….A-Are you comfortable enough to move?” he asks with pleading eyes, mentally begging you to start moving because he swears he’s about to cum on the spot because of how heavenly you feel around his cock.

“Do you want me to move, Nonu? Want me to drag my pussy on your pretty cock like I did with my mouth last time? You remember that, don’t you, angel?” you clench your walls around him on purpose, a playful grin on your face as you notice his resolve crumbling down like a tower made of paper cards, his hips involuntarily jutting upwards to get more friction.

“Words, Nonu, I need words” you reprimand him and you can see the wheels in his brain speeding up to form a coherent sentence.

“Please, I beg you, please move, Y/N, I can’t take it anymore” Wonwoo whines, tears starting to form on his eyes.

You smile at him and push him flat on the mattress, wings fully laid out, one hand into his lavender hair, the other beside his head on the bed.

“Good boy.”

You raise your hips and slam them down almost instantly, the bulbous tip of his cock stretching your walls, forcing bits of your sanity to start slipping away from you.

“Ah, d-don’t stop, baby, God that feels amazing” Wonwoo grips your waist, wings starting to rustle and drop a few feathers around the bed, turning his head away, eyes shut from the mind-blowing sensation he’s experiencing for the first time in his life.

“Eyes on me, dear cupid” you yank his hair a bit more forcefully, “Open your pretty eyes, Nonu, I want you to look at me when I fuck you stupid.”

He opens his eyes, just like you ordered him to do and he’s met with your lustful gaze, unfaltering despite the effort you make to fuck yourself on his cock, soaking it till the base with your juices.

“That’s it, pretty boy - Watch me make you feel good.”

“P-Please, I’m-nngh” he arches his back off the mattress, his nails slowly digging into your skin from the arousal.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum that soon?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease let me cum, it’s too much!” Wonwoo lets out a drawn, whiny moan, letting the welled up tears run down his cheeks, standing on the edge of his orgasm.

“Let go for me, Nonu, f-fill me up until I’m soaked with your cum, baby” you moan, your hips slamming faster on his lap, urging him to tip off the edge.

The moment he cums inside you, the wings turn crimson red - a color he wished he could avoid.

But he doesn't feel like he has done something wrong and he definitely doesn’t feel like stopping pleasuring you - because what is the point of eros if not loving your partner, physically and mentally?

Wonwoo wraps his arms around your back and pulls your chest flush to his, wings spasming frantically, a telltale sign of his still ongoing high.

“Y-Y/N-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here, everything is okay, angel” you coo at him, petting his hair and hugging him close to your body, his cock still spurting cum in you, your pussy milking him dry for all he’s worth - while you’re actively trying your best to help your boyfriend calm down from his very much intense high.

It takes him a few minutes to fully calm down, his breathing back to normal and his wings finally settling down, only his soft sighs echoing in his room.

“Wonwoo? Are you with me?”

“Yeah, I’m….good. Never been better, actually” he laughs breathlessly, “Are you okay though?”

“I’ve never been better as well” you giggle, “But I also really need to clean us up because we’re sticky as fuck”

You try your best to get up on your feet, his cock slipping out of your pussy, but you immediately lose your balance and almost end up on the floor - almost, because Wonwoo is fast enough to catch you before you fall, setting both of you on your feet with just a few flaps of his wings, causing a small ruckus in the room.

“Wonwoo! I told you to be careful with them!” you scold him, thankful that everything in the room somehow managed to stay in their place.

“I know, but you’re more precious than all of the things combined in this apartment and the thought of you getting hurt could drive me insane - in a very upsetting way” he defends himself and your cheeks heat up at his honest yet sweet confession, rendering you speechless.

Got you this time, love, Wonwoo grins to himself as he carries you to the bathroom.

“Really? They almost fought because you asked for their opinions?”

“Yep” Wonwoo confirms, “If I hadn’t intervened, they would have started throwing cake icing on each other or something.”

“Still, they were more than willing to help you and that shows a lot” you comment, “I think I would like them a lot”

“Well, they definitely like you a lot” Wonwoo grins and you’re taken aback.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” you straighten your posture and accidentally splash some water on the walls of the bathtub.

“Easy there, love” Wonwoo chuckles, “I’ve talked about you to the guys before and they seem to like you, despite having not met you yet” he explains, “That’s all.”

“Oh…Well, when you put it that way, it makes more sense…” you trail off and try to sink your body under the water out of embarrassment, but his arms around your midriff stop you and drag you back into his arms, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

“I would never do something to expose you, my love” he murmurs on your skin and you relax into his embrace with a happy sigh, letting yourselves soak into the warm, scented water.

“I think Seungkwan and Seokmin will love your new hair.”

“I think so too, to be honest - it’s literally a perfect mix of what they proposed, after all.”

Wonwoo takes a quick whiff of the air, racking his brain to understand the identity of the pleasant aroma.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“What is the scent of the bath bomb you put in here?”

You turn your head around, looking at your boyfriend with a grin.

“Lavender, of course.”

#svthub #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo crack #svt wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fluff #svt crack #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen crack #seventeen fanfics #seventeen series #seventeen #tw: dacryphilia

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hongcherry · 1 year ago

Text

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 2

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (f)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + none? regular drama, cursing... lmk if i missed something tho!

🍒 WC: 12.4k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💙

🍒 Author’s Note: Thank you for the support so far! This chapter is a little more chill compared to what's to come ^-^

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

Coming home to find your mother in the living room a few days later was not something you could have foreseen.

Her suitcases are by the front door, and her shoes are tossed in different directions. She and your father are in a heated argument; your sister is nowhere in sight.

“Oh, hi, dear,” your mother greets when she hears the door open. Her voice turns sweet, contrasting how it was a few seconds ago. She turns away from your dad, spreading her arms with a smile as if she wasn’t just yelling. Your father grabs one of her outstretched arms and pulls her back.

“You don’t get to hug her,” he hisses before looking at you. “To your room, Yn.”

“Where’s Seoah?” you wonder, ignoring his order.

“At a friend’s. Now, go to your room.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” your mother chimes in. Despite sounding defiant, she retracts her arms from you before she can even touch you. “How are you, sweetie?”

Your brain is whirling with confusion. You aren’t sure if you’re happy or annoyed she’s back. Her trips usually last for several months, maybe a year or two at most, but she always comes back. Sometimes you wish she didn’t. Her attendance never brings comfort, even if you want it to.

“I-I’m fine,” you answer. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s leaving,” your father says, pointing to the door as he looks at your mother. “Now.”

“Just let me stay for one night,” your mother pleads with her eyes on your dad. “I can find somewhere else tomorrow.”

Your dad glowers at her. “I’m tired of you treating this place like a hotel. If you wanted to stay, you shouldn’t have left.”

This conversation again.

Your parents are still married, perhaps because of the divorce cost or custody decisions, but it feels like it is an open marriage. Your mother never tells you if she has another partner, but some of her pictures from her trips are questionable at times. Additionally, your dad has never brought home anyone, but you won’t be surprised if he has gone out to find one.

Well, you wouldn’t have been surprised in the past. However, the present is different. He is nose-deep in his work. He claims it’s because he is trying to provide for you and your sister, which you’re sure has some factor in it, but he’s also probably trying to distract himself from his own personal demons. You were never that close with him to begin with, and your relationship only worsened when your mother left. You know he cares, but not as much as you wish he does.

Their argument fades out as you stand staring at them. You doubt anything will get resolved. Taking in a sorrowful breath, you turn around and leave the house.

The café you usually visit is nearby. It’s the perfect place to study or hang out with friends, as the atmosphere is peaceful. The food is reasonably priced and not too bad as well.

You find a spot in the corner and settle down.

The sketches for your outfits are coming together. You planned to go to a fabric store later this week to pick out a few yards of fabric. Luckily, your college has collaborated with several stores around to provide the students participating in the show discounts. Most are generous discounts too.

Once you are done going over your sketches, you double-check your to-do list. Jeonghan and Minghao are making good progress with the promotional items. Music, on the other hand, is a little more difficult. You haven’t found the right sound yet, but you’ve scheduled a meeting with Jihoon soon.

You sit your iPad on the table and rest your head in your hands. This project is challenging you in ways you didn’t expect. You simply want to create clothes, not deal with all the tiny other details of a runway show. Thinking back to the start of it has you remembering what you’ve been through these past few months.

You hate how much you think of Seungcheol at this moment. He has been the biggest surprise of them all.

He isn’t even helping you with your project, yet you have seen him so many times, he might as well be. You’re not sure when you started to tolerate his presence, but somewhere along the way, he grew to be one of the few people you wanted to see more.

And that corny nickname he gave you… Why does part of you like it? Damn, you wish you weren't thinking of him. Your thoughts of him are getting so bad. You can hear his voice—could hear that ridiculous laugh that makes you want to join in with him.

The contagious laugh is so prominent in your mind that you swear it’s right next to you.

Goodness. Even when he has no reason to be in your thoughts, he finds a way to squirm in. Or maybe you just find excuses to bring him in. Nevertheless, the latter is something you don’t want to admit to.

You regain focus on your iPad with the aim of distracting yourself. You’re about two minutes into sketching another outfit when he who should not be mentioned's voice sounds in your head again.

It’s so clear and getting louder. It’s repeating your name, spreading an odd warmth through your chest.

“Are you ignoring me?”

A hand touches your forearm, causing you to loosen your grip on your stylus. It rolls off the edge of the table into a person’s hand. Your gaze follows up the arm until it rests on their face.

Seungcheol chuckles at your startled expression.

“You okay, Cherry?” he asks with mirth.

Have you thought of him so much that you somehow manifested his presence? Irritated at the lack of control over your thoughts, you snatch the pen from his grasp. If only you could rein in your thoughts as well.

“What are you doing here?” you question, glancing behind his shoulder. For once, you don’t see his business clique. Your shoulders ease at this, not ever wanting to see them after what happened. The only person you see is a tall man with stunning features. He’s watching Seungcheol, so you guess they’re together.

Since your show project is never far from your mind, you take a mental note to ask him to be one of your models before he leaves.

“Just passing by,” he shrugs, then glances at your iPad. “That looks nice so far.”

Your gaze cast down at your sketch again. There is just a figure with a long, flowy skirt. Nothing extravagant.

“Thanks,” you reply slowly, but it sounds more like a question.

This time it’s his turn to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Needed a different environment to work in,” you answer. It isn’t a lie, but you aren’t going to disclose why you need a different environment in the first place. Family drama is never a conversation you enjoy having. And you definitely aren’t going to have it with him. Even if you two are getting closer, he isn’t on Dae’s level of friendship.

“Ah,” he pauses and before he can say anything else, you speak up.

“Who’s your friend?”

Seungcheol peers over his shoulder as if he needs a reminder of who he’s with. “Mingyu.”

“You think you can bring him over?”

He snaps his eyes back to you; they’re slightly wide, briefly before narrowing. “Why? You’re going to try to seduce him?”

Are you just imagining the bitterness hidden behind his teasing tone?

“He is handsome,” you observe. You drift your attention to Mingyu. His dark hair is pushed behind his ears, a few strands hanging in front of his face. He wears a short-sleeved shirt that exposes his muscles. You hope he wasn’t asked to be someone else’s model already.

Seungcheol doesn’t seem amused by your response.

“Yeah? Get in line, Cherry. He gets a lot of people batting their eyelashes at him.”

“Is that why you hang out with him? You’re trying to get his leftovers?” A smirk grows on your face as you look back at him.

Seungcheol stares down at you with an unreadable expression. “I don’t need his leftovers.”

“Then where’s your line of people batting their eyelashes?” you challenge.

“Right here,” he taunts, eyes sparkling with vain as he leans over your table to get closer.

You scoff at his answer and move away from him. You need space to think clearly. “I am not batting my eyelashes at you, Seungcheol.”

“Maybe not,” he says, “but you have your own ways of showing your affection.”

“Like?” you raise an eyebrow. The only thing you feel like you’re showing him is an annoyed look.

“Like not telling me to go away when you first saw me.”

“That’s affection to you?” you laugh in disbelief.

Seungcheol shakes his head. “I’m telling you that’s how you show affection. I think I’m growing on you, Cherry.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead give him a scowl. You move farther away from him to show you definitely aren’t growing a liking for him—even if your heart hints otherwise.

“You will never grow on me. Not with those ‘friends’ of yours,” you reply.

“Hey, they’re doing you a favor,” he says, bemused at your sudden hostility toward them.

“Not those friends,” you sigh. Does he really need to be told which group of people you are talking about? Surely, he doesn’t think his business friends are such saints to not consider them.

“They just aren’t used to your people,” he reasons before sitting down across from you.

You give him a pointed look. “My people?”

“You know, the flashy fashion and such,” he says and gestures at your outfit as if to make a point; it’s another fit that “normal” people won’t wear for everyday attire.

“So that gives them the green light to insult me constantly?” you question, a little astonished at how he’s defending them. You understand they’re his friends, but is he so far up their asses he can’t see just how ugly their personalities are?

“You know you’re not all sunshine and rainbows, too, right?” he retorts.

You have to force your jaw not to drop. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll let them say all the shit they want to and not defend myself since, evidently, no one else will.”

The indirect jab at Seungcheol doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I told them to stop,” he frowns, thinking back to the lounge.

“Ah right, how could I forget? How silly of me,” you answer sarcastically. Although he did try to stop them, you feel he could’ve done more—maybe been more assertive. You feel he isn’t one hundred percent on your side, and that hurts you more than it should.

You make sure your iPad is locked before you stuff it in your bag along with your stylus. This isn’t how you wanted, nor imagined, your conversation with Seungcheol to go.

“You just gave them a bad first impression. You weren’t very friendly when we first met.”

You pause in your movements as your mind whirls back to seeing him at Jeonghan’s door instead of Minghao.

“Neither were your friends,” you recall.

“They would’ve been nicer if you—”

“I really can’t believe you’re defending them right now.”

“I’m just saying you all have some issues that need to be solved, and not everyone has been on their best behavior,” he sighs.

Your eyes scan his face, sensing the trouble he’s going through at being in the middle of two sides. It’s then you realize he will never have your back completely due to his conflict of interests.

This shouldn’t bother you.

You had planned to never talk to him again once you were done working with his friends on your project, yet there is a tightening feeling in your chest that doesn’t make you smile. Some part of you is starting to oppose that original idea.

“I doubt these ‘issues’ will ever be resolved,” you reply, tossing your bag’s strap over your shoulder.

“Why not? We can all talk it through,” he says quickly, so you can’t leave. The look of hope on his face has you considering it for a split second, but you know that won’t go the way he’s imagining.

“I’ll make it easy for you, Seungcheol,” you begin and ignore his offer. “Don’t talk to me ever again.”

You should’ve known he isn’t going to let you go that easily. He grabs your wrist gently when you walk past him to leave.

“Where did that come from?” he wonders, tone teetering with confusion and annoyance.

“Don’t message me either,” you simply answer and pull your arm from his grasp. He looks baffled at your response, sitting still as you move away.

Before leaving, you stop at Mingyu. You give him the quick project explanation you’ve given to others before handing him your card. He tells you he’ll consider it, which isn’t what you want to hear, but at least he isn’t taken by anyone yet. You don’t want to linger around him any longer because Seungcheol is bound to come over since they came here together.

You leave just in time as you spot Hana, Hajun, and Soonyoung walking over to the café. You see through the café’s window as they greet Seungcheol and Mingyu. Some things will never change.

As you climb into your car, you feel a pair of eyes on you. The urge to turn back to confirm your suspicion of who it is is strong, but you keep your gaze forward. You didn’t stay at the café as long as you anticipated and hope your parents are done fighting when you get home.

You sit on Dae’s apartment floor as you pencil your clothes patterns on your fabric. With your mom back in town, you and your sister have been spending time at other people’s residences. You at Dae’s, and her at her own friend’s. You two have never been that close, so being separated from her doesn’t bother you as much as it would bother other siblings. Nevertheless, you’re still the big sister and worry about her occasionally—often sending text messages to check up.

You and Dae have music playing as you work on separate pieces. Even though you’re fine working alone, it’s comforting being with a friend right now. There’s a lot on your mind, and you just need something to distract yourself. Keeping your hands moving is a big help for that.

Your father has allowed your mother to stay while she finds another place to go. Her being at home means lots of fighting. At least for once, it isn’t silent in the house. You and your sister spend most of the time in your own rooms, only coming out for dinner. This isn’t new, but it feels more like a prison than before. The good side of Mom staying is she cooks dinner, which allows you to focus on your project. You have fulfilled all your helper positions—thankfully, Mingyu came around in the end and said yes—so you are focusing on bringing your sketches to life.

“My hands are cramping,” Dae whines, bringing your attention to her. You finish the line you are drawing and sit back on your heels.

“Take a rest,” you suggest. Dae shakes her head.

“I’ve got a quota to meet. If I can finish it now, I can have the rest of the day off,” she explains and goes back to her work.

“If you say so,” you mumble before finishing your work.

Ten minutes pass until she speaks again.

“I ran into Seungcheol today on campus,” Dae says casually. You pause your movements at her sentence.

“And that matters to me how?” you wonder, keeping your gaze locked on your task at hand. Just his name has your heart racing. Though, you conclude it to be from anger.

“He asked about you,” she replies and stands up, a cut piece of fabric in her hand.

“I hope you told him I moved across the globe,” you mumble and grab the scissors you had brought. However, you can’t really focus on anything, so you simply mess around with the crystals you have to hold down the fabric.

Dae laughs a little and shakes her head. “I told him you are moping without him.”

You flicker your gaze to hers quickly, mouth open at her disloyalty.

“I am not moping, and if I was, it wouldn’t be because of him,” you argue fiercely, unknowingly moving your hands as you speak.

Dae’s gaze glances at the scissors still in your grasp. “Let’s put that down when we’re talking about Seungcheol, okay?”

You peer at the object and scoff. “It’s comforting me right now, so no.”

“How exactly is it comforting you?”

“I’m imagining sticking it where the sun doesn’t shin—”

“Yn,” Dae scolds.

“You asked,” you say, then set them down reluctantly.

Dae eyes your movements carefully before speaking, “He just wanted to know how you were doing.”

“I’m doing fabulous,” you snap, hoping that is what she had told him. Your tone is a little harsher than you mean.

“I told him you were doing fine,” she answers your silent question.

You sigh. “Both start with ‘f’, so you were close enough, I guess.”

“You know what else starts with ‘f’?” she asks.

“Fudge? Which we should go get, by the way.”

“Forlorn,” she answers, dismissing your attempt for sweets. “You’re forlorn.”

“I am not sad and lonely,” you huff. Sure, your family drama is at a high right now, and you just dumped your not-so-friend-who-you-were-starting-to-like-being-with.

You are not sad. You are not lonely.

“You’re also in fenial,” Dae adds.

“I’m in what?”

“Fenial.”

“You mean denial?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Huh?!”

You stare at her, puzzlement written all over your face. She smiles at that, pinning her fabric to her dress form and then turning to you.

“You’re in denial that you miss him.”

“What is fenial?” you ask, disregarding her statement about how you feel about Seungcheol. You are not missing him. He has chosen his side—alright, not really, but his actions say otherwise. He is not on Team Yn.

Dae groans. “We were on f-words, and I had to improvise. I just wanted to tell you you’re in denial.”

“And you’re felusional.”

“How about we just change to d-words?” she asks when she notices what word you mean.

“Or change the subject entirely.”

You stand up, stretching your arms over your head and twisting your body to ease your back as you’ve been hunched over for a while. Dae stays silent as she lets the topic rest momentarily. You leave to grab a glass of water before sitting on her couch. Just as you think she’s letting it go, she speaks.

“Do you think he’s a bad person?”

“Dae,” you sigh in a warning. You came here in hopes of getting away from your problems, not facing them.

“It’s a yes or no question,” Dae states sternly.

Instead of responding right away, you take a drink from your cup. The cold liquid feels refreshing, and you relish in the feeling before her question echoes in your head.

Finally, you say, “No.”

Dae slows her movements on her dress form and peers at you. She doesn’t look at you playfully or pitifully, which you appreciate, but you still don’t want to talk about it. She seems to want otherwise.

“So, why did you stop talking to him?”

“I told you before,” you answer. “I don’t want to be around someone who won’t stand up for me. They’re his friends, and I’m not going to force him to choose.”

“You want him to, though,” she observes. Even though you want to deny that, you know she is right.

“Well, I didn’t want to force him to. I thought he would just do that upon seeing how rude his friends are.” Your thumbs play with the condensation on your glass.

“You’re not innocent either, Yn,” Dae answers softly so as to not hurt your feelings. It doesn’t help.

“Great, so you’re siding with them now as well?” you exhale, exhausted.

“No,” she replies seriously. “I’m trying to show you that he could have picked them over you.”

“Explain,” you say as you try not to lose your temper for a change.

“You’re saying his friends are rude—”

“They are,” you interject.

“I’m not saying they aren’t. Just listen to me,” she continues when you nod. “You’re saying his friends are rude, and he should ditch them, but if you’re being mean, then shouldn’t he leave you too?”

There is an argument on the tip of your tongue that never forms. Her words sink into your mind, processing what she means.

“What his friends are saying to you is not right, and I get why you’re fighting against them, but I wouldn’t hate Seungcheol for not unfriending them.”

“He still doesn’t always have my back,” you counter.

“Hm,” she concurs. “That he could do better on.”

You sit still as you muse about what she told you. She has a valid point, and part of you is grateful he didn’t leave you despite you always giving off the impression of wanting him to.

“And I don’t hate him,” you murmur, lower than your normal volume, but Dae hears you.

She exhales slowly, glancing at you sincerely. She gives you a reassuring smile. “I know.”

“Can you play that one more time?” you ask as you lean over Jihoon’s shoulder.

“Sure,” he answers and clicks a button. The sound plays from his speakers once more. You move away and begin to pace in his room. Your eyes stare down at your feet while you carefully listen. Having four elements seemed good at first, but now you are having trouble finding a beat that fits all four. You like some of the pieces Jihoon created, but they often fit more with one element.

“Something just isn’t,” you trail off once the song fades out.

“Can’t you just make four separate tracks?” Chan, who you met through Soonyoung a week ago, pipes in from Jihoon’s bed. He claims he has nothing to do and wants to help as well. At first, you’re unsure. His major is dance, like Soonyoung’s, so what knowledge does he have about music production? Despite your original disposition, he turns out to be more helpful than you initially thought.

“I don’t have enough time on stage for that,” you explain. In order for the show to not run for an entire day, each student is given a limited amount of time for their section of the show.

You all sit in silence as you think about what to do.

“Hey Jihoon, Chan—Oh,” a familiar voice rings out in the room. All heads turn to the door to see Seungcheol standing there.

It’s been nearly two weeks since you saw him, and during said weeks, you had been avoiding him. You didn’t let yourself be alone with him, let alone let him speak a word to you.

The fight you had with him is still prominent in your mind, but what’s more evident is the way your body reacts when he gives you any attention. You feel betrayed by your own body when you feel a pang in your chest or a lingering desire to be close to him again. It’s as if you lost something you could’ve had if it weren’t for his wishful thinking. He wants his two worlds to coexist, but that isn’t going to happen. Maybe you would’ve given him an ultimatum, but you aren’t sure if he would even pick you. Hell, why would he when he’s known them longer? No reason to put yourself in that position.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says, taken aback. Before you can question what he is doing here, Chan speaks.

“Hey, Cheol,” Chan greets. “Can you give us some help real quick?”

Chan’s question pulls you from your sappy thoughts and look at Chan as if he grew two heads. Seungcheol? Helping with music?

“We can figure it out ourselves, we don’t need—”

“Is this the music for your project?” he interrupts and walks inside the small room.

Sighing, you move away when he nears. “Yeah, but I don’t see how you could help.”

“Play it, please,” Seungcheol directs to Jihoon, ignoring your comment. Jihoon obliges before you can stop him. For the nth time, the music sounds in the room.

You stay silent as Seungcheol stares at the screen. His brows are drawn together, and his lips are in a slight pout. You realize you have never seen him so serious before. You don’t know why he’s so focused on a project he has nothing to do with.

As the song ends, another voice comes from the doorway.

“Cheollie, we’re leav—What are you doing here?”

To your disappointment, Hajun is standing at the door. Though what you really get a kick out of is her outfit. For the first time, she isn’t in pants. Her skirt stops a few inches above her knee, and her blouse is form-fitting rather than loose—like she normally wears.

Instinctively, your eyes drift to Seungcheol. You didn’t realize his attire until now. Despite it not being a suit, he wears slacks and a patterned top. A simple and clean look but is still nice. Were they on…?

Even though her question is most likely directed at you based on her tone, Seungcheol answers, “Give us a moment, Hajun. I’ll be out in a second.”

“But the—”

“Wait in the car then,” he replies sternly, eyes not leaving the computer screen. She fumes, gives you one final glare, then leaves.

“You have other files?” Seungcheol questions.

“Yes, but they’re either missing an element or don't fit any of them,” Jihoon explains.

You can’t recall ever telling Seungcheol about the theme of your project, so why is he acting as if this isn’t news to him? Maybe he put it together upon seeing your designs, or maybe his friends told him about it. Does that mean they talk about you in private? Probably. Still, you can’t help but want to ask.

“How did—” you begin, but Seungcheol stops you.

“Have you done one file with all four?”

“It was too long for her project,” Chan explains.

Suddenly, you feel you are being pushed out of your project. They’re talking about you as if you aren’t standing a few feet from them.

“This is my show, remember?” you huff. However, no one reacts to your question.

Your patience drastically decreases. It doesn’t help that the bane of your existence is the cause of being overthrown.

“So, just cut each element file to make them shorter and create transitions,” Seungcheol suggests. “She’ll just have to organize her lineup to match.”

“That’s a stup—” you began.

“That may work,” Jihoon mumbles, then says to himself. “Such an obvious solution, too.”

You open your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted again.

“It may sound choppy if not done correctly, but that won’t be a problem since you’re making the track,” Chan adds with a supporting smile.

“Will you buffoons stop interrupting me?!” you exclaim, stomping a foot like you are a child.

They all turn toward you. Seungcheol chuckles softly at your scowl.

“Shouldn’t we be getting a ‘thank you,’ Cherry?” Seungcheol asks cockily.

Chan and Jihoon look at him, confused, never having heard that name before. To be fair, no one has.

“No, because you all just decided things without me,” you argue and gesture to the screen to prove your point.

“We were helping you,” Seungcheol rephrases.

“You were taking ove—”

“Come here,” he says, holding out his hand. You look at it as if he has just stuck it in sewer water.

“Like hell I will. You can leave. Hajun is waiting for you anyway. I need to finish working with Jihoon,” you scoff and angle your body to the screen to dismiss him.

“I don’t know why I offered my hand,” he mumbles under his breath, but it’s so quiet you can still hear it.

“Great question,” you say. “I don’t know why either, because I’m never going anywh—”

“I should’ve just taken yours.”

Seungcheol suddenly grabs your wrist, firm enough so you can’t escape but not so rough to where he’s hurting you. He starts walking toward the door with you in tow. Unless you want him to clean the floor with your body, you have no choice but to follow.

He pulls you into the empty bedroom next door, shutting it before he releases you. He presses his back against the door to make sure you can’t make a run for it.

“That’s your tenth time interrupting me,” you hiss, a finger pointing at him accusingly. It’s bad enough he waltzed in and made decisions for your project without consulting you. Now he wants to, what? Force you to talk to him? Force you to forgive him?

“It was probably like three times, and Jihoon interrupted you as well,” Seungcheol says.

“He’s not an ass like you,” you reply.

“Oh, I’m an ass?”

You move closer to him, finger now pressing into his chest. Your unwanted yearning for him is transforming into anger. It’s a way to divert the denial you’re feeling at how much you missed being near him. Even if he has pissed you off before, you didn’t realize how much he has wormed his way into your life. To suddenly cut him off made it harder not to think of him. Now that he is here in front of you, you don't know what else to do but to default to how you initially felt around him—annoyed.

Surely, the increased heart rate is due to being irate, not because you are nearly toe-to-toe with Seungcheol.

“A big ass. Huge! One that I—No!”

You quickly stop your sentence when he opens his mouth. The finger on his chest is now pressing against his mouth to quiet him.

“Let me finish, dammit. You’re rude and insufferable. You’re the biggest ass I’ve ever met. One that I wouldn’t mind kicking—with my heels on, mind you.”

Seungcheol looks at you, pleased, which only intensifies the fire in you. Once he starts speaking, you quickly retract your finger. The feel of his mouth moving against your finger feels like fire against your skin—burning and making you feel warm.

“You sure you can balance on one leg long enough to do that?” he taunts.

After letting out a big exhale while stepping away, you ask, “What are you even doing here?”

“I promised I would help Joshua with something,” he explains. Hearing his name, it dawns on you that you are probably in his room. He and Jihoon have been roommates for a few months now, so you see him frequently.

“Why are you dressed like that?” you question next, eyes going up and down his body swiftly.

“I went out to dinner,” he shrugs, not finding a big deal in what he’s wearing.

You aren’t going to bring her up. You really aren’t. So, why can’t you stop your damn mouth from running?

“With Hajun?”

Something in your tone must have gotten Seungcheol’s attention more. A stupid smirk forms on his stupid face.

“Something on your mind, Cherry?” he quips. You hate when he has that mischievous grin of his.

“Besides wanting to kick you? No.”

Rather than Seungcheol being offended by your answer, his smile only grows. “I’ve missed your sassy mouth.”

There’s a tug in your chest at his words, something akin to a siren's call—luring you to someone dangerous. At least, dangerous to your heart.

It feels good to be missed by him, but you still can’t let go of the words he said to you in that café.

“I’m sure your friends are ecstatic to not have seen me lately,” you huff. Even though you are tired of thinking of them when you’re around him, you still bring them up. It’s just easier to latch onto a reason to be mad at him.

“I’m not talking about them right now,” he says firmly.

Seungcheol pushes off the door to stand closer to you. You take one step back, but one of his hands presses against the small of your back to bring you to him. The close proximity has you trying to lean away, but he doesn’t let that happen.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he encourages, voice softer.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You’re still worked up from all the irritation you feel. You’re probably overreacting, but being alone with him stirs up feelings you’ve locked away.

“Let go of me,” you reply in lieu and wiggle in his hold. It’s fruitless.

“Yn,” he says lowly. Hearing your name from his lips has your breathing stop. It’s odd to hear it when he normally uses the nickname he gave you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t need him to tell you what he’s apologizing for.

“Don’t,” you warn and press a hand against his chest. “You don’t mean that.”

His body feels soft, yet firm under your touch. While you would focus on his build, the feeling of his racing heart catches your attention more. Your eyes snap to meet his, not noticing you are staring at your hand on him. Is he nervous?

“I do. I’m sorry you felt I wasn’t on your side,” he says, mouth tugging down. “I want to be there for you.”

There is that feeling in your chest again—one you have been trying to force down for days. You try to hold onto the fizzing anger in you, but Dae’s words resurface in your mind. He could have left you. After all, he is right. You were rude when you first met him.

Seungcheol’s gaze darts between your eyes and then to your lips. You say nothing as he does so, your own eyes sweeping across his features.

As if in a daze, he starts to slowly lean forward.

You press the hand against his chest harder to stop him. “Cheol, you can’t. I—”

“What is it, baby?” he murmurs, thumb rubbing against the small of your back. The pet name wraps you in a blanket of illusion where you’re really his. One where there isn’t constant drama looming around you. You like the way it sounds from him.

“I have lipstick on,” you reply quietly.

Seungcheol flickers his gaze to your eyes, his own forming small crescents as he chuckles. “Is that your excuse to stop me?”

“No,” you answer with a slight shake of your head.

“Then stop talking,” he laughs softly and leans in again. Your hand on his chest relaxes as you let his body come nearer.

His lips gently brush against yours, almost experimentally. The simple feel of his mouth on yours has your body tingle. Your chest feels tight the longer you hold your breath in anticipation. As soon as he starts to press his lips on yours more, there is a loud noise from the other side.

“Shua, wait! I think Seungcheol and Yn are in ther—”

You both quickly separate from each other, eyes wide as saucers when the door opens. Joshua stands with a hand on his doorknob; his lips are in a deep frown at seeing you two.

“Not in my room,” he whines, body sagging when he sees both of your expressions.

“Huh? What do you mean? What’s going on—Oh,” Chan calls out as he comes behind him.

You’re sure neither one of you is untidy in terms of clothes and hair, but the look on your faces is a flashing neon sign indicating what was occurring or about to occur.

“Nothing happened,” Seungcheol says and pushes a hand through his hair.

“Hopefully not. You have your own place for that,” Joshua replies. The thought of doing something intimate with Seungcheol has your cheeks feeling hot.

Not wanting to think of that, you glance at Chan. “Did Jihoon get the music sorted?”

Chan, still a little startled, nods. “He’s ready whenever you are.”

“Great, I’m coming.”

Chan says okay before heading back to the other room. Joshua makes his way into the room while you and Seungcheol start toward the exit. However, before you can completely leave, Seungcheol grabs your upper arm gently to stop you.

He leans toward your ear to whisper, “It was an end-of-the-year dinner with my whole class. My friends are probably wondering where I am.”

Without another word, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before sending you a smile and rounding the corner at the end of the hall that leads to the front door.

Your brain hasn’t caught up to anything that has happened in the last few minutes. From being frustrated with Seungcheol to nearly kissing him. You don’t even like him, so why is your heart soaring at thinking of possibly being in a relationship with him? Why does knowing he didn’t go to dinner alone with Hajun make you feel relieved? Hell, you don’t even find him attractive… Right? Yeah. He isn’t your type. His smile isn’t pretty. His eyes definitely don’t shine. His dimples are unflattering. His laugh is cute—obnoxious! His laugh is obnoxious.

Your shoulders deflate.

Oh, fuck.

Seeing Seungcheol on campus stirs a torrent of emotions through you.

The sight of him has your lips tingle as if you can feel the ghost of his mouth on yours. You ponder on what would have happened if Joshua hadn’t barged into the room. Would the kiss have been short and sweet? Long and passionate? Quick and desperate? Would he have said something that would’ve changed the trajectory of your relationship? Did you want that?

You have been snuffing out any thoughts about Seungcheol that crosses the line of friendship. There isn’t a reason why you can’t be more than friends—besides the disapproval from his business friends. You chalk it up to being too busy to put much effort into a partner. Plus, is Seungcheol even the person you want?

“You know you’ve been staring at the man for the past three minutes, right?”

Dae’s voice knocks on your mind’s door. Your gaze tears from Seungcheol’s back, who is ahead of you in the line ordering, to peer at your friend. She wears a small smile and is watching you closely.

“Not on purpose,” you argue. “I was just staring off into the distance. He just happened to be there.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot,” she observes.

With the conversation about Seungcheol, you can’t help but drift your eyes back to him.

He must sense your stare because out of the blue, he’s looking over his shoulder at you. The cashier follows his gaze, then says something to Seungcheol to which he nods in reply. Although the cashier turns back to the screen in front of them, Seungcheol’s eyes linger on you. He gives you a quick wink, mouth raising in a lopsided smile before finally averting his gaze.

“I haven’t,” you answer late and glance away.

“Uh huh,” Dae says, unbelieving.

“He’s just somehow always around when I’m working on my project with his friends. I’m not hanging out with him,” you explain.

“Maybe not directly, but he’s still there,” she shrugs.

“Trust me. I wish he wouldn’t be,” you sigh, shuffling forward when the line moves. “He’s distracting when I’m trying to get work done.”

Dae giggles. “Oh, I’m sure he is.”

“Not in that way,” you scold with a light arm slap. “I mean, his friends are easily susceptible to topic changes. What should be a thirty-minute meeting turns into an hour.”

Dae hums but doesn’t say anything else when you both are near the cashier finally. After ordering for yourself, you take out your card ready to pay.

“Actually, it’s already been paid for,” the worker says.

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “What?”

The cashier turns to Dae, who is ordering next to you. “And your friend’s.”

Suddenly, Dae is giggling. Though they aren’t quiet chuckles, they are loud and obnoxious. So much so, you feel it could be heard throughout the whole building.

“How kind of him, Yn,” she teases you, gladly accepting the free meal. You don’t need to specify the “he”. Since the deed is already done, you have no choice but to grab your food and move along.

“You should thank him,” Dae suggests as you walk to an empty table.

You scan the area and spot him with his back to you again. He sits with Vernon, Doyun, Joshua, and Mingyu. None of them notice you, and you turn around before that changes.

“I don’t want to, not in front of his friends,” you say, taking a bite of your meal.

“Why not?”

“I just feel it’ll be awkward,” you mumble.

Dae smiles. “It wouldn’t be, but fine. Let’s write him a note instead.”

You glance at her questionably. “Or I could just text him.”

“That’s so boring,” she scoffs, reaching inside your purse.

“Hey!” you try to protest but that doesn’t stop her from rummaging through your bag. She pulls out your sticky notes that have a cute design on them.

“Don’t you have yours?” you grumble as she starts to scribble on it.

“Yours are nicer,” she answers simply. She slides the pad over to you and her pen. “Now, write a thank you.”

Reluctantly, you do as you’re told. While you do so, Dae digs into your purse again. This time she pulls out your travel-sized perfume. You figure she wants to freshen up, but rather, she tears off the sticky note and spritzes the paper with the scent.

“That is so old school,” you groan, cringing at the cheesy act.

Dae smirks and folds the note. She pushes it in your hand and then covers her barely-eaten food.

“Let’s go give it to him as we’re leaving,” she instructs.

“But I barely started eating,” you complain, glancing down at your food.

“Do you really want to stay in this stuffy area? We can eat somewhere else.”

You watch as she stands up. Sensing she isn’t going to take no for an answer, and you don’t like eating in here anyway, you oblige and grab your meal.

“Any slower and we’ll have to eat during the lecture,” she says.

“We should’ve just left without sitting down,” you reply and started walking in the direction of Seungcheol’s table.

You don’t get the chance to back out of Dae’s plan since she taps his shoulder to get his attention as soon as she’s in arm's reach.

He jumps, turning as his eyes raise to flicker between the two of you. You bite back the giggle that almost escapes upon seeing his stuffed cheeks. He reminds you of a cute chipmunk, and there is a tingle in your fingertips that makes you want to poke his face.

Seungcheol seems embarrassed at having been caught like that, quickly covering his mouth and turning away. Once he swallows his food, he looks at you both again.

“Yn has something to give you,” Dae says.

You suddenly feel like her kid who has been forced to do something because “Mommy said to do it.” His friends are watching inquisitively.

“Oh?” he wonders, eyes glinting with curiosity.

You push out your hand, the folded note sticking out. He takes it slowly. His fingers brush yours as he did so, and you feel like such a love-sick teenager at the subtle giddy feeling bubbling from his graze.

You don’t want to be there when he opens it, so you clutch Dae’s arm and beeline to the exit without a word. You refuse to turn back to see his expression, only focusing on Dae’s endless giggles on the way out.

Your mom has finally found a hotel nearby to stay at. Even though you haven’t seen her in a long time, part of you is glad she is going. However, the little girl in you wants her to stay. To try to fix what is so broken in this fucking house, but that is a wish that will never be granted. You just want the fighting to stop, for you and for your sister. For that to happen, it’s best that she left. She’s been gone for three days; it’s been quiet since. Your father hasn’t said anything, just asked if you and your sister were okay before returning to his office.

Spring break came and went in a blink of an eye. You had no plans besides continuing to work on your project. After your mom left, you transferred all the items you had worked on from Dae’s place back to yours. You hung out with her occasionally, which wasn’t shocking to do, but what you didn’t expect was to talk to Seungcheol throughout the week.

Seungcheol was out of town with his family, so he was pretty busy. Despite this, he still managed to find time to talk to you when he could. Conversations were dragged out due to the delayed responses, but that didn’t matter to you. It was nice to learn more about him and think about something other than your project—even if it were just for a few minutes at a time.

Now your floor is covered in fabric scraps, cut-out fabric pieces, and sewing pattern sketches. Although it’s a mess, seeing your progress feels good.

Outside your door, you hear hurried shuffling. You ignore it as your sister is probably playing around.

“Yn! Your boyfriend is here!” Seoah calls out. You pause in pinning a piece of fabric to your dress form and sigh. You stick the pin in the pin cushion you have on your wrist, then leave your room.

As you are turning the corner, you ask in exasperation, “What are you talking about, Seoah? I don’t have a—Seungcheol?”

You stop in your tracks when you see him standing in the doorway, his name coming out as a gasp. His hair is wavy, which is different from how you normally see it. His dark hoodie and pants combo is nothing spectacular, but it has you wanting to wrap your arms around him to see if he feels as comfortable as he looks.

You quickly blink a few times, gathering yourself again and trying hard not to ponder on your thoughts. You veer toward your sister. “Go to your room.”

“What? You’re not even going to introduce me?” she scoffs, ignoring your demand and turning to Seungcheol. She outreaches a hand to him and bows slightly.

“Hi! I’m Seoah, the better sister.”

Seungcheol chuckles and reciprocates the handshake, bowing slightly as well. “Nice to meet you, Seoah. I’m Seungcheol.”

“I’ve heard about you!” she exclaims. “Yn has talked about you.”

That is a partial lie. You have talked about him, but not with her. She must have heard you talk about him while you spoke to Dae on the phone. Curse your thin walls.

Seungcheol glances past her to you, who stands, annoyed, a little away from the door. He takes in your casual attire, and you realize he’s not used to seeing you like this. You suddenly feel self-conscious. Instead of that making you cower in shyness, you just get irritated.

“Good things, I hope,” he answers your sister with a laugh.

Seoah winces. “Actually, not really—”

“Room! Now!” you huff and point to the hallway. Seoah rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says. She gives Seungcheol a wave before skipping past you, making sure to “accidentally” bump into you on her way.

Once you hear her door shut, you walk closer to Seungcheol.

“What are you doing here?” you ask in a quiet voice, knowing Seoah probably has an ear pressed up against her wall.

Rather than giving you the answer you’re looking for, he chaffs, “You’ve said bad things about me? I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I’m about to have more bad things to say if you don’t answer my question.”

Seungcheol smiles, seemingly unfazed by your brazen response. “At least you would be talking about me.”

Unamused by his playful tone, you take a step back and push the door closed. Seungcheol presses his palm against the object before it can fully shut. His push on the door is strong enough that you have no choice but to stop your actions.

“Must you always be so snappy?” he questions blithely.

“Must you always be so annoying?” you retort.

“Annoying is subjective.”

“Seungcheol,” you exhale. “I’m busy, so unless it’s something dire, get off my porch.”

“I haven't seen you for a week and suddenly you’ve turned into an old lady.”

Your eyes narrow. The pin cushion comes into view, and you reach to pluck a needle from it.

“This old lady has a weapon, so don’t even start,” you threaten.

Seungcheol takes a step back when he sees the small object. He bites his lower lip as he stares at it. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh. It makes you jab the air toward him, causing him to take another step back.

“Alright, alright, Cherry, put that tiny sword away,” he laughs, hands rising to show mercy.

You oblige, eyes scrutinizing him in case he decides to do something. Though, he simply lowers his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask.

“It’s always ‘what do you want’ and never ‘how are you’,” he sighs teasingly.

Your reply almost leaves your lips until you hear the sound of a door opening from inside.

“Yn? Is there someone at the door?” your father’s voice comes from somewhere behind you. In a panic, you shut the door—so unexpectedly and fast, Seungcheol doesn’t have time to stop you this time.

You turn around to him. “Yeah. I forgot I left something at Dae’s. She’s just brought it back. I need to go meet her.”

Lying to your Dad isn’t something you probably need to do. It’s not like you are banned from having friends or being in a relationship, but you try not to mix too much of your personal life with people you know.

“Ah, alright,” he says. He lingers around for a moment and then leaves the room.

You open the door as soon as he is out of sight. You step out this time. Seungcheol gives you a concerned look, but you pretend not to notice.

“Can we talk in your car?” you ask. It’s better to talk where Seoah isn’t eavesdropping, and your Dad can’t spot you.

Seungcheol doesn’t question you and gestures for you to lead the way.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” he observes as you go down the stairs.

“Good to know you can see,” you reply, not caring about the fact. You’re just going to figure out what he wants then go back inside.

“And you called me insufferable,” he groans.

Suddenly, your feet aren’t touching the floor.

Seungcheol has his arms under your knees and around your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck tightly.

“This is unnecessary!” you shriek at the abrupt change.

“You could get hurt,” he simply says, walking the short distance from your porch steps to his car parked out front.

“It’s concrete, not glass. I would’ve been fine,” you argue.

“You never know.”

Seungcheol’s grip doesn’t loosen, and you know he isn’t going to let you down until he reaches his vehicle. With this knowledge, you decide to let yourself think about the way he holds you so tightly. His hair is tickling your arm, and his cold touch on your bare legs warms your skin the longer it presses against you. For a moment, you dive back into that illusion of being more than friends. It’s a dangerous thought.

Instead of setting you down on the ground when he arrives at his car, he gently rests you on top of his shoes—still not letting your feet touch the rough concrete. It’s a small gesture, but the impact it has on you is big. You warmly stare at him, hoping he doesn’t see it as you wait for him to open the door. The click of the door cues you to climb inside.

“All that work for what?” you laugh lightly when he climbs inside, trying not to seep deeper into the warmth that begins spreading in your chest. He turns on the car to get the AC running.

“For your safety,” he replies as if what he did isn’t anything special. While you hate the part of your brain that wonders if he has done this for anyone else before, you hate another part that wants him to only do these things for you more.

“Should I carry you if you are barefooted next time?” you tease.

The grin on his face is wide enough to accentuate his dimples. “As much as I would love for that to happen, I doubt you can carry me.”

“We can try it now,” you offer, gesturing out the window.

“I would rather not break my tailbone when you drop me,” he laughs.

It’s getting harder to deny that you miss him and his contagious giggles. You laugh along with him briefly.

“So, will you please tell me why you’re here?” you ask when the laughter dies down.

“Another ‘please’? I ought to be around you more if I remind you of that word,” he replies.

“You do, constantly,” you start. “Please go away. Please get to the point. Please shut up. Please—”

“I got it,” he chuckles, and you stop to give him a triumphant smirk.

“I wanted to invite you to dinner with my friends,” he finally reveals.

Hearing the term “my friends” coming from Seungcheol has your smirk slowly evaporating. Upon seeing your change of expression, he quickly elaborates.

“Our friends. Would you like to go to dinner with our friends? Not my… other ones.”

You feel better at knowing it isn’t the group you are avidly evading. “Why would they want me there? Did you not ask about me coming again?”

“Actually,” he pauses, “they asked me to invite you.”

“They did?” you wonder out loud, startled.

“You and Dae.”

“This couldn’t have been asked in a text message?” you ask.

“I wanted to see you,” he shrugs as though there is nothing wrong with that. Which, there isn’t, except it stirs unwanted emotions that make you feel warmer.

You move your gaze from him as you consider the invitation. Your first outing with people other than Dae went horribly, and even though this will be with people you are more fond of, you’re still nervous. Maybe if Dae agrees, you’ll be more inclined.

“Can I get back to you?” you ask.

Seungcheol’s small frown quickly turns upside down when you look at him again. “Yeah, of course,” he forces out.

“Sorry, I just…”

Seungcheol reaches out to you, placing a hand on your thigh lightly to reassure you. “I get it. Don’t feel pressured. We just wanted to get to know you both without talking about your projects.”

You nod slowly, eyes staring down at his hand on your skin. Heat is spreading from his touch to across your body. His other hand comes up and guides your face upward, causing your gaze to tear from his hand to his face. He’s closer than you remember. He smiles at you, those devilish dimples appearing and making your heart melt involuntarily.

“Just let me know,” he speaks lowly, slowly so you hear him clearly. Your mind isn’t sure if he is referring to letting him know about the dinner invitation or letting him know if you want him to kiss you.

Yes to both.

You nod, eyes trailing down to his lips. You watch as they stretch into a bigger grin.

“Good,” he murmurs.

You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is thumping in his quiet car. Though that is a fleeting thought as he nears your face. Your eyes flutter shut as you meet him halfway.

Like before, his lips graze yours tenderly. It’s so gentle that you have to suppress the shiver your body wants to emit. One of your hands slowly rises to rest against his cheek to bring him closer. His head tilts into your touch.

Seungcheol’s hand that’s on your thigh glides up your side until it rests on your waist. Your lips are pressed against his more than they were at Jihoon’s, but not fully. Despite the slow pace, it’s thrilling to be able to focus on his every touch.

“Not your boyfriend, huh?”

The voice outside has you both springing from each other. You move so fast that your head accidentally hits the passenger window. The thud catches Seungcheol’s attention and before you can glare daggers at your sister, his hands come up to cup the back of your head where you had hit it.

“Are you okay?” he quickly asks. Although you want to indulge in his caring nature, you move his hands so you can turn to face the window. The throbbing is already fading.

Seoah stands with her arms crossed, hips shifted to one side, and a not-so-intimidating stare.

“Well?” she prompts. Her voice is slightly muffled from being outside, but you hear it nonetheless.

You open the door so she can hear you clearly. “You say anything and I’ll—”

“You’re really going to threaten me with your boyfriend here?” she questions, a knowing smile on her annoying face.

“You’re right. Let’s go inside first,” you say before turning to Seungcheol. His face is flushed, and he still seems a little startled by everything that happened. You’ve never seen him so bashful before. He looks rather… cute.

“I’ll get back to you, okay?” you say, starting to slowly leave his car.

That has him swimming out of his thoughts. “Do you need me to—”

You smile at him. “No, Cheol, I don’t need a ‘ride’ back to the door.”

“Watch your step,” he warns softly.

“I will. Drive safe,” you say, fully out of his car and leaning in through his now rolled-down window to see him. You peer over your shoulder to see Seoah waiting a few feet away.

“Also,” he says quickly. “I’ll drive you and Dae and pay for your dinners. If that’s any incentive to come.”

“Tempting,” you playfully reply. “I’ll let you know soon.”

“Okay,” he slowly says. “Oh, and thank you for that note.”

Your body stills at remembering that silly, scented sticky note Dae made you give him days ago.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” you reply with a hint of sternness.

“Bye, Cherry,” he smiles. He seems like he wants to say more but decides against it.

“Bye, Seungcheol,” you say.

Per his request, you’re careful with your steps as you retreat back to your door. Before you go back inside, you turn to Seoah.

“What were you doing outside?” you question. You can hear the sound of car tires as she answers.

“Dad sent me out to get you.”

Your eyes widen. “Did he see who I was with?”

“No,” she says. “Just said he didn’t hear you come back in.”

Of course, the one time he decides to be attentive is when Seungcheol comes.

“Don’t tell him about this, alright?” you sigh.

Seoah nods. She may be annoying, but at least she isn’t traitorous. “Are you dating him?”

“No,” you reply sternly. You aren’t. You are just… testing the waters? About to have a friend with benefits? Friends with make-out-sessions? You are nearing an unhealthy spiral from how much you are fretting over the man.

“Do you want to be?” she wonders.

“Enough, Seoah. Just promise me you won’t say anything.”

Seoah stays silent for a moment. You fear you’ll have to plead more, but she ends up sticking out her pinkie finger. You sigh in relief, wrapping your pinkie around hers.

“I promise,” she says.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Let’s get inside,” you instruct, voice softer than before.

“Please turn in your progress reports. I’ll see you all next week,” Dr. Lim says and motions to the spot on the table in front of him.

You wait as the majority of your peers place their papers in a pile. You’re still on your iPad and editing a few designs. You just can’t get one of them right. Something is off, but you aren’t quite sure of the reason.

Maybe if you hadn’t stayed up last night, your mind wouldn’t be so sluggish.

Seungcheol wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation once he left. Countless texts transpired before he eventually called. The conversations were easygoing enough for you to continue working on your designs while you talked to him. You learned he had an older brother and parents who all lived a few cities over. He hasn’t visited as many times as he wished due to being busy with classes. Though, he tries to go when he can.

You don’t disclose much about your family, keeping it simple by saying you have a sister, whom he met, and parents. He doesn’t pester too much on the topic, and you’re glad. Instead, you talk about what you’ve both been up to and your hobbies (he likes to play games and drink with friends).

You stayed up later than normal and are now paying the price for it. Though even through your haze, you don’t regret it.

“Come on, Yn,” Dae says when the line to leave shortens.

“One second,” you reply as you focus back on your sketch.

Dae sighs but leaves you alone, going to turn in her own report.

Maybe the coloring? But if you adjust the shade, it will be too close to another design. Is the one slit in the skirt too common? Maybe if you add two… Better, but it still isn’t clicking. Perhaps it is the top.

Your hand dances across the screen, drawing and erasing, then redrawing until you finally have something that itches that artistic scratch you are trying to satisfy. The other issue is you need more fabric to make this piece. You’ll have to note that down in your to-do list.

Once you are finally packed, you leave your table and set your paper on top of everyone else’s.

Dr. Lim glances up at seeing you walk past. “Thanks, Yn. I look forward to seeing what you have so far.”

“I am as well. Let me know if there are any changes that could make my designs better,” you reply, pushing your bag strap higher on your shoulder.

He smiles at you; it’s not the first time you’ve asked this. “Of course. See you next week.”

You say your goodbye and then exit to find Dae. She’s outside the classroom, leaning against the wall as she speaks to someone. He looks familiar and you recall his name to be Yejun. He was with Jeonghan when you first met him.

“You get everything sorted?” Dae asks when she sees you. You nod. “Do you remember Yejun?”

Another nod.

“It’s good to see you again,” he greets with a warm smile.

The first response you have is it probably isn’t good to see you since most people don’t find pleasure in your presence. You’re sure he just said that out of courtesy.

Alternatively, you opt for, “You as well.”

“Oh, did Seungcheol ask you about that dinner with the guys?” Dae wonders to you.

Ah, that’s right. You were going to ask her about that today but got distracted with revising your design.

“He did, but I wanted to see if you are going first,” you answer.

“Yeah, me and Yejun are planning to go.”

You glance at Yejun in surprise. Seungcheol didn’t mention his name.

Upon seeing your expression, Yejun explains, “Jeonghan invited me since I’m helping Dae with her project.”

“Hm,” you hum in affirmation. It makes sense.

“So, are you coming?” Dae questions.

You’re conflicted about what you want. What if this dinner ends like how the lounge night went? You planned to stick with Dae if she goes, but now that Yejun is going, will she leave you? What if something happens and you need her?

“Stop overthinking and just say yes. It’ll be fine,” Dae interrupts your mental questions and gives you a friendly push.

Exhaling deeply, you agree to go.

“Great,” she smiles. “Yejun offered to give us a ride.”

The mention of a ride makes you recall Seungcheol’s offer. “Oh, Ch-Seungcheol actually said he’ll drive us and pay for our dinner.”

You peer at Yejun, recalling he didn’t mention he’ll do the same for Yejun, but you figure Seungcheol won’t mind. At least the ride part. You don’t know if he’ll pay for Yejun too.

Yejun gets the hint at your look and chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch a ride with Jeonghan.”

“I’ll go with Yejun and Jeonghan,” Dae offers.

Your heart starts to race at the idea of being left alone with Seungcheol again. It wouldn’t be the worst thing, and you rather enjoyed his company, but lately, you’ve been treading on an indivisible balance beam—teetering on feelings you aren’t ready to come to terms with. Maybe you are, but you’re too nervous that Seungcheol doesn't feel the same. Yeah, he tried to kiss you—twice—but that doesn’t mean he likes you. You can kiss people you don’t like. He could be looking for something noncommittal and somehow sees that in you.

Great, now you’re concerned if that’s how he sees you. Someone who isn’t dedicated to one specific person. Does he think that of you in general or in terms of relationships? You just added another reason why you shouldn’t be left alone with him. Way to go, brain. Seriously.

“Actually, I’m sure he won’t mind you both. Let me just ask real quick,” you respond hastily and pull out your phone.

“It’s okay,” Dae says, but you ignore her. You send a message to Seungcheol. You know he’s in class, according to previous conversations, but you hope he sees the text soon.

“It’ll probably be more fun in Jeonghan’s anywa—”

Your eyes shoot down when your phone vibrates.

“He said yes! It’s all good. He even offered to pay for you, Yejun,” you say, a little happier than you should’ve been. Dae eyes you suspiciously.

“Really? Oh, wow. Alright. I can’t turn down a free ride and meal,” he laughs and looks at Dae. “That alright with you, Dae?”

She slowly tears her sight from you and gives Yejun a small smile. “Yeah, it sounds perfect.”

“Awesome. I’ll tell him to pick you guys up first,” you say.

“We can just meet at yours?” Dae offers, but you shake your head.

“I need the extra time to get ready,” you lie. She says nothing at the little fib. She should know you don’t want a lot of people at your house.

“Right,” she says slowly. “Then Yejun, can you meet me at mine? I don’t want Seungcheol driving all through the city since he’s doing us a favor.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“Yejun!” a familiar, light voice calls. You look around and see Jeonghan a few feet away.

“Class calls,” Yejun sighs and starts to walk toward Jeonghan.

Jeonghan directs a kind smile and waves in your direction. You wave back—one that isn’t as enthusiastic as his, but it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful he got a wave at all.

“You ladies coming to dinner this weekend?” he calls from where he is. He could have easily walked over, but he decides to yell across the room instead. People are starting to glance at you all, and you sigh at his antics.

“Yup! We’re even getting a free meal from your friend!” Dae answers, having no problem with the long-distance chat.

Jeonghan laughs, loud enough for you to hear it and for your mouth to dip down at the sound. Better yet, it isn’t even a laugh. It’s a maniacal giggle. That giggly little bitch.

“Oh? Are you now?” he questions, obviously not needing a hint at who the aforementioned friend is. “Well if he’s offering, I’m going to see if he’ll pay for mine too.”

“Pay for your own, and go to class,” you finally join the discussion. You place a hand on Dae’s arm, ready to drag her away from the angelic devil.

“Trying to keep him all to yourself? That’s not fair,” he replies with an over-exaggerated pout.

“That’s not the reason,” you growl, eyes narrowing in a sneer.

“Well, regardless, he’s got money to spare,” Jeonghan chuckles and slips an arm around Yejun’s shoulder when he gets close enough. “Have a nice day!”

You both watch as they ascend the stairs, their laughter fading off the farther they get.

“Seungcheol’s loaded?” Dae asks, surprised.

It takes you a moment to realize what spurs that question. You’re about to say no, but his car and his luxury clothes say otherwise. Hell, even his cologne shouts “expensive”. Though he could’ve gotten all those as gifts, or even got help paying for some. It doesn’t matter if he has lots of money or not, but you didn’t expect him to. No one you really know is that wealthy.

“I’m not sure. Plus, paying for five meals doesn’t mean he’s rich,” you reply honestly. “It doesn’t matter. We need to go get some fabric.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she teasingly questions, letting you pull her out of the building and to the parking lot.

“You said you needed to go to the store anyway,” you argue.

Dae smiles. “Yeah, but I never said I wanted to go with you.”

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes playfully. Dae giggles and holds onto your arm tighter.

“You can just tell me you want to hang out with me,” she says.

“I’d rather swallow my pin cushion.”

“Ouch. For a moment, I really thought we had something,” Dae sighs dramatically, clutching her chest in faux pain.

“Alright, enough playing around. Let’s get going.”

Just your luck.

You and Dae visit almost every fabric store that your college is sponsored by. Every single one you have gone to so far has the fabric you want out of stock. Dae offers some that are “close to what you want,” but you don’t want them. The fabric you saw online is what you have envisioned for your piece, and you don’t want to settle for less.

There is one more store on the list, and as soon as you walk in, you make your way to where it should be.

There it is!

The navy blue sheer fabric is calling to you.

You’re about eight steps from it when two girls come into view. You hurry to the fabric, but unfortunately, they are standing in front of it. One girl has her hand hovering over the bolts of fabric in that section, seemingly unsure of what she wants. That’s good for you as it means she doesn’t have her eye on the fabric you want. You just need to sneak in and grab it before she makes up her mind.

“Excuse me,” you say to them. When they turn to you, you recognize their faces. They’re in your class and are participating in the runway project. Tori and Siwon, if you remember correctly.

“Oh, Yn,” Tori says. “Need something?”

Though her voice is sweet, you know her intention is not. You’re aware of the way she speaks about you. Always something about how unoriginal you are because you “stole designs.” That or you pay for people to do your work for you. What pathetic lies. They’re common rumors amongst several fashion students. Although you don’t know if all of them are false for others, you know the allegations about you are.

Your gaze on the blue fabric catches her attention, and she turns toward it. “Oh, here’s what I came for.”

Your heart drops when she grabs it, tucking it under her arm and then looking at you again. Her overly innocent smile has your hands clutching at your sides. You know she did this just to spite you. If she really wanted it, she would’ve grabbed it sooner.

“The area is yours,” Tori says, bowing as if you are royalty. It’s a mocking action, which has you nearly stomping your heel onto her exposed foot in her open-toed shoes.

You take a deep breath and eye the fabric in her hold. There isn’t much of it left, which means there won’t be enough for what you need. Part of you doesn’t even want it if she’s going to use it in her designs.

Rolling your shoulders back and lifting your chin, you say, “No wonder you’re one of the least creative students in class. All you do is take others’ ideas. I doubt you even know what to do with that fabric, but good luck.”

The girls scoff before leaving for the cutting station. You stare after them, fire rolling inside.

“Hey, did you find it?” Dae asks when she stops next to you. She has items in her hands that you don’t pay attention to.

“Yeah,” you reply through clenched teeth. “Then Tori took it.”

“Tori from class?”

You gesture to where she is, smiling at the lady who is cutting the fabric for her.

“I’m sorry she beat you to it,” Dae says.

You shake your head. “She didn’t even want it. She took it because she knew I wanted it.”

Dae glances back to her across the store, mouth set in a firm line.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll lure her and her friend outside and you can snatch the fabric from the counter.”

As much as you like the idea, and appreciate Dae’s support, you shake your head. “I’d probably get kicked out for sabotaging her project.”

“You’re just playing fair,” Dae argues.

“Whatever,” you reply, looking at her arms. “Let’s go check out.”

Dae follows you silently to the registers.

“We can go to another store,” she offers as you wait in line.

“This was the last store that would give it at a discount. I can’t afford it at the regular price,” you explain.

Dae nods grimly. She gently takes the red thread that you’ve been toying with in your hands. “I’ll pay this for you.”

“I’m not that poor,” you sigh and take it back.

She laughs lightly. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“Thanks. I’ll just find something else,” you conclude, giving her a forced smile.

“And it’ll be better than that cliché navy blue,” Dae says.

“It was a little cliché, huh?” you question. You're grateful for Dae trying to lift your mood.

“Absolutely!”

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