#but I’m just so fucking mad I wanna bite his emotionless head off

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i ain’t gonna face no defeat

in which alex was a figure skater.

word count: 2,916

some willex, juke if you squint

tw: occasional swearing, period-typical homophobic parents (q word is used as a slur exactly once)

———

“Cut off my circulation even more, why don’t you?” Alex grumbles, grabbing his arm away from his sister.

She rolls her eyes and nudges him as he adjusts the arm band. “Hey, feel lucky you’re even doing this. I don’t think Mom and Dad actually realize what you’re skating to.”

Alex hesitates and sucks on his teeth. “You think they’ll be mad?”

“Oh, they’ll be livid,” she deadpans, then smiles softly. “But they can’t stop you.” She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leans over to pull on his boot covers. “I’m gonna head to the bleachers. Break a leg!”

Alex calls after her, not looking up, “That’s only for theater and you know it, Mel!”

A few minutes later, he’s called to the boards, and he can’t shake off his damn jitters. He knows he’ll be fine once the music starts, but right now his skate guard won’t come off and he really has to pee all of a sudden and oh my god why is he wearing a tank top when it’s so fucking cold—

Alex steps onto the ice, and the announcer calls his name while he glides into a stretch before taking his beginning pose. He ignores the way his arm, raised in a fist, is shaking while the beginning harmonies start to play, and he skates.

•••

Alex began figure skating when he was six. It was an odd situation, really; he didn’t care about doing it one way or another, and he would’ve been fine with not doing it since his parents would always say it was a girl’s sport. His little sister, Melanie, however, wanted to skate so badly, but with her being the four-year-old she was, she was terrified of doing it alone. Begrudgingly, his parents signed him up for lessons alongside her.

Much to their dismay, he was good. Like, really fucking good. He landed his first single jump after only two years, and his first axel after six. He managed to get height in a way that his coach’s other skaters didn’t; maybe it was the inner pent up anxiety making him bounce like a jumping bean, who knows.

Alex wasn’t just good at jumps, either; he got his Y-spin after four years. He was that kid on the ice who accidentally cut people off with an impeccable spiral. When he practiced his programs, the other kids would move towards the boards to give him room and sneak a glance.

As much as Alex liked the attention from his peers (god, that support system was something else), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his parents never sat in on his sessions. They would only ever come to the shows and competitions his sister was a part of; he had to find his own ride to the others (thank god for Bobby's parents, honestly). It had made him angry at first that they didn’t want to be involved, but as he grew older, and learned more about himself, he realized he could use it to his advantage. He could skate to anything he wanted.

Alex was 13 when he chose to skate to Somebody to Love. To anyone else, it was very unassuming, just another kid skating to a popular song at the time, maybe even a tribute, since Freddie himself had passed two months before. It was everything to Alex, though. He pulled out all of the stops; his costume was the whole armband and wifebeater getup, and his coach let him assist in choreographing it.

He didn't know it was his last program.

•••

"Hey, Alex?"

He looks up from his math homework and hums in recognition.

Mel bites her lip and leans against the doorframe before mumbling, "I wanna quit."

Quit? Shit, nonononono— "—nonononono, Mel, you can't quit! If you quit, they're gonna make me quit!"

She closes the door softly behind her and walks slowly up to him. "Alex, the only reason I've been skating for the past year was so you could keep doing it. I'm really sick of skating at this point, and I wanna switch to something else. I'll keep going if you really, really want me to, but—" She sits next to him on his bed, lowering her voice to a whisper, "You saw how they reacted to the recital, 'Lex. You think they might make you quit anyway?"

Alex sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. She's right, he knows she's right. It just fucking sucks.

He tilts his head back. "You can quit," he whispers.

Mel places her hand on his and squeezes, whispering back, "I'm sorry." Alex looks back down at her. "I really with there was something we could do, but there isn't," she continues, recollecting her hand. "At least your last program was a good one."

He gives her a sad chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. And, I'll have more time to focus on the band. Luke'll be happy about that."

Mel rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and leaves Alex to his own devices with a pitying look.

If she hears him practicing the beat to Somebody to Love in the basement the night she officially quits, she doesn't say anything.

•••

"Julie, what are you doing up there?"

Julie throws a shoe over the wall of the loft and into the evergrowing pile on the floor. "Cleaning out all of your old junk. Which one of you had a magician phase?" she asks, holding up a cheap, ratty top hat and matching plastic wand. "It was Reggie, wasn't it?"

Alex chuckles to himself, poofing up next to Julie. "Why do you think he knew who Caleb was when we met him?"

Julie lets out a loud laugh, continuing her digging. "Are the other guys here?"

"Nah, they're looking for a gig. I just got back from the park," Alex answers.

“Just the park?” Julie asks sarcastically, and before Alex can retort, she adds on, standing up straight, “Hey, whose skates are these?”

She’s holding his old figure skates in her right hand.

The black fabric is a little faded, with the familiar scuffs still on the toe. His dark blue skate guards are all dusty, but the blades still somehow look intact, given there wasn’t much opportunity for water damage in a loft.

Alex scratches the back of his neck, ignoring the rising blush in his cheeks and bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. “Those, uh, those are mine, actually.”

Julie looks up from the boots at him in awe. “Whoa, you skated? That’s so cool!”

Alex drops his hand, mouth open in hesitation. “Really? It’s not... weird to you?”

He can recall a tight grip on his arm, firmer than the band that had been ripped off. "Alex, what made you think it was okay to pull off this kind of stunt? You don't want people thinking you're some kind of queer, do you? Why we've let you continue this is beyond me, it isn’t any good for you.”

“Why would it be weird?” Julie asks, quirking her head to the side in such a Julie way that Alex would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried.

He shrugs, shuffling his feet from side to side, and mumbles with a wince, “I don’t know, because I’m a guy and figure skating is like, a girly sport, I guess?”

Julie shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed with a soft smile on her face. “First off, it’s not inherently girly, and second, if it’s something that you enjoyed, then that’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Alex replies, looking down at his sneakers. Is that all that matters, though? He pauses for a moment in debate, then adds on at Julie’s encouraging expression, “My parents made me quit when I was fourteen.” He takes a breath. “They were never that involved in it, though, they actually only let me because my sister did it. I, uh, after I skated to a Queen song in a full Freddie Mercury getup, they weren’t too happy, and made me quit.”

At some point in his spiel, Julie had put her hand on his shoulder, and now she was squeezing it before pulling him into a hug. “Your parents are stupid,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex chuckles, something emotionless, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. They were.”

Julie pulls away with a gasp, a bright smile on her face. “We should all go skating this weekend! The public rink just opened up a couple weeks ago, and I can bring Flynn so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself—” she falters, cutting herself off, “I mean, if you’re cool with it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alex thinks back to his many (many) practice sessions, and remembers the feeling of finally getting that move right, of flying in the air for that one glorious millisecond, of seeing some of his closest friends every other day. He misses it, of course he misses it. It was his biggest outlet before he focused all of his attention on drumming. But, he can’t help but feel that stupid fucking guilt clawing at his throat, can’t help but imagine oh, so clearly the look of betrayal on his mother’s face the night he came out.

Then again, he had lived the rest of his life out of spite of his parents. Why not keep it going?

“That sounds really fun,” he replies, pulling her back in. “Thank you.”

•••

A world sans Caleb was a new one to Willie. However, it was also a very welcome one, because it was in this world that he was able to just relax with Alex in the studio, enjoying every second they spend together without worrying about the time running out.

Which is why he was (reasonably) surprised when the time ran out.

They throw Alex an impressively offended look as he removed his arm from behind their shoulder. “What?”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Willie scoffed.

Alex chuckles to himself, pressing his lips into a line. "As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle with you—" At that, Willie's face goes bright red, and Alex counts it as a win in his head, "—the band and I are going ice skating when Flynn gets here, which should be in about five minutes."

"Oh," Willie's face brightens as they reply, "sounds fun!"

Alex winces. "Yeah, making sure Luke doesn't accidentally become tangible and run over a seven-year-old while playing human bowling on the ice with Reggie is super fun." Willie laughs something golden in response, and Alex only hesitates for a moment before adding on, "Uh- actually, would you want to come with us?"

Willie grows soft, still getting used to finally being included, but quickly schools his expression before replying, "Yeah, I'd love to! Though, fair warning, I'm kind of only good at the one kind of skating?"

Alex quickly scrunches his nose. "That's fine, I'll help you," he offers, slowly untangling himself from Willie.

Willie isn't sure how much help he's really gonna be, but they figure even an amateur would be better than whatever the fuck kind of Bambi creature he is on the ice, so they nod and pull Alex up by his hand off the couch.

•••

They arrived to the rink a few minutes ago, and while Julie and Flynn are buying their rental skates and Luke, Reggie, and Willie attempt to steal some without being noticed, Alex laces up his own skates by himself on an open bench.

It isn't until after he yanks the last bow that he realizes— putting on those skates should not have been that easy.

Yeah, their clothes are usually easy to put on, and they can summon their instruments any time they want, but touching anything else usually takes an immense amount of focus. Hell, the dahlia pin Julie had bought Luke for his guitar strap took five tries to actually hook on rather than just drop to the ground.

And yet, his skates just— went on? Laced up with no problem? His foot didn't go through the sole even once? He wiggles his toes around inside the boot, and only feels the familiar push of fabric against them.

He decides not to question it, to not think about the implications of his skates possibly being attached to his soul, and tries to avoid yet another afterlife crisis as they walk toward the boards. Or, at least, he walks, while Luke just bolts onto the ice with no hesitation, and Reggie quickly follows. Alex falls back behind Julie and Flynn, who step onto the ice and begin gliding around, and Willie somehow finds their way next to him, grabbing onto his hand. They make it to the door, and Willie lets go with a small nudge to the shoulder. "Alright, hotdog, show me what you've got," he jokes.

Alex lets out a small laugh and steps out onto the ice, a weird feeling of deja-vu settling into his nonexistent bones. Once he gathers his bearings, he glides along before maneuvering closer to the middle of the ice and pulling himself into a scratch spin. It takes him a minute to really center the spin, but with the phantom tingling of blood rushing to the tips of his fingers before he pulls in completely, suddenly it's 1990 and he's doing his Lacrimosa program and he wants to try to land every jump he's ever learned, even though he knows that trying his axel right now is a horrible idea, and—

He's exited the spin now, looking back at the door to see Willie about a foot away from it, gripping the wall with a concerning amount of intensity, an odd combination of fear, shock, and something else (awe, maybe?) coming to rest on their face. He skates back over, and Willie's expression doesn't seem to change. "You—" they swallow, "—you can skate."

Alex slides his feet back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Yeah, I figure skated for eight years, actually. Did, did I not mention that?" he asks, smirking a little, knowing damn well he very much never mentioned that.

Willie closes his eyes, sucks on his teeth, and takes a breath, getting over their minor bluescreen moment. "Help me?"

"In order for me to help you, you need to let go of the boards," Alex responds. Willie looks at the boards, then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "It'll hurt a lot more falling into two flat surfaces rather than one," Alex reasons, and Willie hesitates before finally letting go.

"There we go," Alex says softly, taking both of Willie's hands in his. He begins to slowly pull them along, not caring about passing through lifers, while Willie's feet slip and slide beneath him. Alex tries his hardest not to laugh, and Willie quips, "I thought I was supposed to be the athletic one."

Alex scoffs, "Who told you that? Are you the one lugging around an entire drumset every weekend?" At Willie's laugh, Alex tacks on, "I didn't think so."

They make a full lap around the rink before Alex lets go, having to prevent Luke and Reggie from pulling on some little girl’s milk boxes to make her go faster, because no, that’s not how physics works, and yes, people will notice, Luke.

After, Willie moves to get off at the boards, and Alex pulls a disappointed pout. Willie just motions toward the ice, saying, "I know you didn't just come here to pull me around the whole time, I wanna see your turns and stuff."

Alex hesitates, "But I don't want to leave you here by yourself—"

He’s cut off by a familiar harmony playing in the background, and Luke and Reggie poof by his side in an instant. Alex barely has any time to register it before Reggie is putting a hand on his shoulder and Luke is asking if he’s okay.

And Alex doesn’t know how to answer that right away, if he’s being honest. At first, he thinks he might not be, because all he remembers is scolding, leaving, hiding, but he reminds himself it’s 2020 and he’s a ghost; that his parents are as involved in what was left of his life now as they were when he came out— not at all. The feeling of freedom starts to envelope him; the same freedom as when he danced with Dirty Candy at Eat ‘n’ Beats, the same freedom as when he played the drums at the Orpheum, and the same freedom he had before his last recital. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex replies, trying to hide his newfound itching to just get back out there.

Reggie drops his hand from his shoulder with a smile; meanwhile, Luke catches notice of Julie and Flynn starting a mini snow fight, to which he immediately races over and shouts, “I want in!” Reggie just shrugs and poofs over. Whether to stop him or join, the world may never know.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics and looks back over at Willie, anxious energy seemingly radiating off of him— except, not as it usually does; now it was more excitement than anything else.

“Go show off, Alex,” Willie says, shooting him away with a smile.

Alex unsuccessfully tries to suppress the overwhelming giddy feeling that rises in his chest, and he skates. Again.

Finally.

[marvel-ousnesss]

Unrequited (Valerio x reader)

Warnings: angst, use of drugs, alcohol, cursing, cheating, breakup, mentions of Valerio x Lucrecia 

Word count: 2000-ish

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hadn't been motivated to write anything until recently. As always, I love to hear comments, thoughts and feedback. Also, thank you so much for supporting my work, hope you enjoy 💜

Masterlist

Request

“Stop it, Valerio.” You abruptly close the book you're holding, eyeing the teacher as you place it on the desk. “They won't even let me get out of the house.”

He had been nagging you all week long about some party he was dying to go to, and you wanted to, really. The only problem was that, a few days ago, the two of you had dragged Guzman on a nightly adventure to the beach, which seemed right at the moment, since he had spent the whole summer sulking. Your dad practically had to drag you home by an ear, and, to say the least, your family didn’t wanna hear a beat about parties or your friends any time soon.

He scoffs, “seriously? Your parents are like the chillest people ever, they weren’t even that mad.”

Incredulous, you look at him up and down, betrayed by the amused grin that flicks on the corner of your lips. “Just checking, were you there on Thursday? One step out of line, and I'll be walking around with an ankle monitor.”

“Y/N, Valerio, is my class, perchance, interrupting your conversation? Should I take it elsewhere?”

With a quick apology and a glare at your boyfriend, cutting the conversation was cut short. However, it was naive to think he'd just settle for the answer you had given him.

“Whatever, Y/N," he grumbles. "I’m sure They'll let you if I,” he frames his face and smiles coyly, “am the one who asks.”

"Geez, why didn't I think of that!". Turning the page of your textbook, you deadpan. "Oh, right, dick-in-a-sock incident.”

Valerio lowers himself on his seat as his face embraces a new tone of crimson. After a second, he recovers. “Can't believe you brought up that teeny-tiny mistake of mine. Low, Y/L/N, even for you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the bell rings.

When it stops, you continue, “Seriously, V, they've been all over me these last few days, it's a long shot.”

Both of you get out of the classroom and begin to make your way to the lockers. “Just tell them Polo’s gonna be there, don’t they love Polo?”

You sigh, checking the time on your phone. You only have fifteen minutes before your next class began, and, honestly, lack the energy to spend them trying to knock some sense into your mule of a boyfriend.

“Fine,” you settle. “I’ll call them in a minute. But, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Too late.” With a captivating smile, he leans in and pecks your cheek.

After you agreed to at least call your parents, Valerio's mood improved considerably the rest of the day. The rest of the classes went by uneventfully; before you knew it, you found yourself in the car, duffle in hand, on your way to the Montesinos'.

You arrive at their house and let yourself inside, leaving your stuff at the door and heading straight to the kitchen, looking for something to drink. When you turn around to face the stairs, Lu’s making her way down.

"So, how did you manage to dodge your sentence this time?"

"Haggled my freedom, sort of." You place a glass on the table and open the fridge to fetch a bottle of sparkling water.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, exasperated. "A call from my dad would’ve done it".

"Thanks, but it wasn’t that bad, really, " you assure, pouring some water into the glass then cutting a lemon in half. "Just have to take my brother to some birthday party next week and, in exchange, they gave me their blessing for Valerio's thing, and let me stay at yours after."

"God, Y/N, you complain about my brother 24/7 and, in the end, the two of you are just as stubborn."She grabs an apple and takes a bite. "You could've saved yourself the trouble completely."

"Oh, well."You take a seat by the kitchen bar. "Guess it takes one to know one."

"Anyway, what are you wearing tonight?"

You unlock your phone and browse through the gallery. When you find the picture, you stop and point a finger at her. "You're gonna hate me. " You show her the screen smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, my fucking god, Y/N! How- I- is that the Valentino you were drooling over the other day?"

You just grin.

"You, bitch, how did you get your hands on that?"

"Aunt Millicent."

"Of course," she huffs.

"Turns out that there were a few perks of her going off to Milan." You shrug. "But that's not important right now, what are you gonna wear?"

With that. she drags you up the stairs and into her room. You spend the rest of the afternoon immersed in makeup experiments and debates about fashion until Valerio and Guzman shout your names to start pregaming.

You enter the party together and go straight to the most vacant area of the VIP zone. After grabbing the first round, you join the others at the table and sit down with Polo and Carla for a few drinks. The group remains wrapped in conversation until Ander walks up to his friends and drags them to the bar, probably to tell them about his most recent disagreement with Omar. Soon after, Lucrecia makes eye contact with Nadia, muttering something about her daring to come, and standing up with a huff. Knowing she's physically incapable of keeping herself out of trouble, Carla stands up with a roll of her eyes and follows her.

Valerio lets his arm fall around you and chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. "And then, there were two."

“Wanna get high?" You don't wait for him to answer verbally. Instead, you grab his hands and pull the two of you to stand up.

He laughs, grabbing a bottle of whatever was on the table beside yours.

The two of you sprinted to the nearest restroom in a fit of giggles and lock the door behind you. He puts the bottle on the counter and reaches his pockets, freezing as soon as he lifts his gaze. You dig into your clutch and shake a small bag in his face.

"My treat," you grin, resembling a kid in a candy store.

"Oh, my, little miss Y/LN!" he gasps in fake horror. "What happened to the ankle monitor you were telling me about."

"I won’t tell if you won’t."You smirk, carefully arranging the lines.

The party comes to an end a few minutes before sunrise. You reunite with Lucrecia and Guzman by the entrance of the club and the four of you get in the Montesinos' car. Your head rests on Valerio's chest and he traces lazy patterns on the skin of your arm and shoulder.

When you make it to the house, Lucrecia doesn't waste a minute to drag a tipsy Guzman upstairs, waving a quick goodbye on her way. You giggle, well aware of your friends' plans for the night. Then, you head to the kitchen for a snack.

"Confess it." Your boyfriend stares at you from the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. "The only reason you ever visit is that we have a better pantry."

"To be honest, I thought you already knew that." You grab a pack of chips and walk toward his bedroom, passing by him and kissing his nose softly.

You don't fall asleep that night, writhing in Valerio's arms and debating whether or not to go find something for the hangover that was already beginning to haunt you. When you open your eyes, the first rays of sunlight are already peeking through the window. You decide to get out of bed. You throw the blanket off you and turn, expecting to see your boyfriend, but only find a mess of his blankets instead. You check the time on your cell phone: 8:22 a.m.

Seeing no point in continuing your attempts to get some sleep, you put on the shirt that was laying on Valerio's desk chair and leave the room. As you're crossing the hall to the pool, you hear noises coming through Lucrecia's door. For a moment, you think it may be her and Guzman, but remember hearing him say that he had to go home at dawn to get to a swimming competition.

You try to ignore the noise and convince yourself it's none of your business; but, when you continue to walk away, your ears are invaded by a voice you knew quite well. "It couldn't, they can't-, they're...", a million thoughts invade you. You take a deep breath and to open the door.

There are no words to describe the feeling of your heart being ripped in the blink of an eye. Your legs threaten to collapse and blood rushes to your head, making you dizzy for a brief moment. Not only do you find your boyfriend in the bed, with an unreadable expression coating his face, but you find your best friend redhanded, looking right at you like a deer in headlights.

You don't even try to digest the scene; instead, you run out of the house, suddenly not caring about your current apparel. Part of you wanted to shout what you had seen, to ruin them, but they meant too most to you. You couldn't do it, no matter how much you wanted to get it off your chest.

Luckily, your house was empty. You went straight upstairs and locked yourself in your room for the rest of the morning. You did whatever you could to take your head off what you had seen, but nothing worked. In the end, you wrote it down, desperate to get it out somehow. You hadn't opened your diary since you were twelve, but it was relieving; a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

You spend the remaining of the day so deep in thought, that you didn't even notice your family arriving from the park. You drifted off to sleep after working on some homework, only to be woken up by our brother's voice.

"Y/N, your boyfriend's here!" Hearing the word sends a jab of pain through your body. However, you reply, "I'll be down in a second."

You put on a hoodie, some shoes and leave the fort that was your room. Your parents are focused on a movie, so you take the opportunity to step into the backyard with Valerio.

You face him, trying to appear emotionless, even if your bloodshot eyes give you away.The childish gleam in his face is nowhere to be found, his shoulders are more drooping than normal, and his eyes are almost as red as yours. You wonder if it's because of the crying or the cocaine.

“How long?”

“Before I went abroad.”

You attempt to walk back into the house, but he grabs and pulls your arm, begging you to stay and listen.

You sigh. “I won't say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He stays silent for a few seconds, bringing himself to believe that your thoughts on him were actually that low. Then he mumbles, “I don’t care about that, I know it’s unorthodox, and that you’re probably gonna stop talking to us now, and-“

You didn’t have the energy to hear him ramble. “Look, yes, I’m really shaken, to say the least, it's the first time I’ve seen something like that.” You grimaced. “But, the point is you betrayed my trust, V! Completely!” Your voice shakes, you try to clear your throat but it comes out as a sob. “I- even if it hadn’t been her, you hurt me. You promised you’d never do it, but you did!

He takes your hands, and, even if you don’t resist, feels how tense that makes you. Hours prior, it would’ve been comforting. “And I’m sorry, really. I did it without thinking, Y/N/N, it won’t happen again.”

You pull your hands out of his. “Please, V, it’s been happening for more than a year, half of the time we’ve been dating.”

He stays quiet.

You quietly question, “do you still love me?”

This time, his bottom lip quivers and his voice cracks when he answers. “I care about you, a lot, you know that.”

That’s the last you bear to hear. You avert your eyes from him. “I forgive you. You can go now.”

“Y/N/N…” He moves closer to you, but you shake your head, stopping him.

“Please,” you croak.

[ateezmakemeweep]

mingi x reader x wooyoung

word count: 25k

angst, smut

(part 1)

even before your relationship with wooyoung ended the way it did, you always wondered what drove people to cheat? did they just never care from the start, basing the relationship off lies and fake smiles, or did something happen down the line? 

were there problems that only one person could see and didn’t feel comfortable enough talking about to the other? did they feel neglected or unloved, like they needed to seek out that affection and validation elsewhere?

or did they really just have no regard for another person, selfishly occupied with their own pleasures and needs while realizing, maybe, they didn’t care if they hurt the person or not.

if you asked your ex-boyfriend, he’d say it was none of the above - he’d say that it simply just happened.

that one second, he was in love with you and the next, he somehow found himself in a whirlwind of kisses and touches behind closed doors with someone who wasn’t you.

that while he knew it was wrong and unfair to you, a part of him felt like he couldn’t stop. like he could keep up this affair of being a sweet, loving boyfriend but also someone another person found desirable and attractive.

enjoyed the rush and thrill of doing something forbidden, even though it felt wrong.

but of course, he didn’t tell you any of this; you hadn’t talked to him since he cried outside of his dorm building begging you for another chance. 

the same way you cried on the whole ride home and into your pillow that night, the night after that, and the night after that for about two whole months.

you can even admit, looking back at it now, eight months later, that you handled the breakup in a very cliche way: crying into a box of chocolates in bed and swearing that love didn’t exist. it was sad to you then, to believe so young that what you once felt was the best feeling in the world didn’t exist.

but the more time went on, the more you saw maybe you’d jumped the gun on that.

because just a few short weeks after the breakup, blocking wooyoung on every form of social media and telling your parents to never allow him in the house, you heard a knock at your door.

you approached it warily, eyeing the spray bottle on the counter and debating on arming yourself with that, before you saw a tall, familiar head through the glass window that definitely wasn’t your ex’s.

“how do you know where i live?” was the first question out of your mouth, not being able to keep the bite out of your tone or annoyance from crossing your face at mingi’s dejected form in front of you.

he had tried to talk to you the first few days after the incident, begging you to just hear him out and insist he never wanted you to feel stupid or in the dark; but that’s exactly how you felt. 

how could you not, after knowing everyone in wooyoung’s life knew about him and lisa except you? everyone who saw you and him together, looked you in the face and smiled at you two together, while also being fully aware of what him and another girl were doing.

“nice to see you too,” mingi said, his hand toying at the back of his hair nervously, an awkward smile creeping up on his face as he tries to lighten the tense mood.

but you’re only a few weeks out of the gate of being cheated on and humiliated, the boy in front of you harboring that information until it all blew it up in your face in the most upsetting way; so you can only roll your eyes and slam the door in his.

or at least attempt to, before his foot slips through the open space and halts it.

“y/n, wait-”

“no, mingi. i have nothing else to say to you.”

“i know and i don’t blame you,” the boy says, his soft, kind voice a stark contrast to his large, looming appearance. “but you deserve an apology. just give me ten minutes to try and explain.”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you look up at mingi, annoyance flooding through your veins as you’re tempted to tell him to go fuck himself. that no explanation is gonna excuse him harboring that knowledge for months. 

and he must know it too, because his face twists into one of remorse as he mutters a quietly spoken “please.”

and a small part of you knows he’s not the one who deserves this harsh reaction. he’s not the one who cheated and betrayed your trust; he had some allegiance to you, sure, being that he was your friend, but not as much as wooyoung did. 

he didn’t promise to love you and assure you there was nothing to worry about that. that he only had eyes for you and wouldn’t even think about betraying your trust or affections. he didn’t look you in the face and promise he’d never hurt you because he loved you more than anyone.

and even so, he looks almost as pathetic and desperate as your ex did when he was begging you for a second chance.

“five,” you snap shortly, backing away from the door and watching as mingi’s eyes light up in surprise.

he gives you a small smile that would usually soften your heart but only proves to make you raise an eyebrow, leading him to the living room where he fills you in on the truth about the past six months.

how when they first kissed at a random party, wooyoung was shitfaced and didn’t even remember the next morning; it was lisa showing him a picture her friend had snapped in the span of a few seconds that reminded him, guilt flooding through him as he told the girl that could never happen again.

but it did end up happening again. when wooyoung wasn’t shitfaced and lisa was there in his dorm alone.

“he said that lisa was crying, something about feeling alone and upset, because all her friends had boyfriend’s and she felt like a single loser,” mingi says, remembering how down and confused his roommate was the next day when he came home. “and then before he knew what happened, she leaned in and kissed him and he...”

mingi looks up to gauge your reaction and sees you’re just watching him blankly, cold, emotionless eyes that don’t give away the fact hearing this is making you wanna cry and scream all over again.

“he was conflicted,” is what mingi decides on saying. 

“not conflicted enough though,” you say, a mix of sadness and humor in your tone as you shake your head. “they were still fucking for two months after that.”

“they never fucked,” mingi is quick to clarify. 

you raise your eyebrow and he nods his head as if to say it’s really true, your teeth sinking into your cheek again.

“they kissed and did...other shit,” mingi says, not thinking you wanna hear that wooyoung accepted far too many blowjobs from the girl. “but they never fucked. he said he...couldn’t.”

“wow. what a guy.”

you can’t even try to keep the dryness out of your tone and it causes mingi to press his lips together so he doesn’t smirk, instead looking over your face and frowning when he notices your eyes are puffy.

“i didn’t say that so you take him back or anything,” mingi says quietly, “i just... he told me all of this and i said he had to stop. that it wasn’t fair to you, even if it was just kissing and blowjobs.”

you wince upon hearing it put so harshly, mingi cringing as he realizes he let the details slip out.

“sorry,” he mumbles, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head.

“it doesn’t matter. i’m over it.”

mingi’s eyebrow raises as he looks over your face again, not commenting on the puffiness under your eyes or the fact your hands are pressing into one another anxiously.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you,” he says after a few silent moments, his voice laced with such sadness and sympathy you can’t help but meet his gaze. 

“i told him so many times to cut the shit, that it wasn’t fair and i was gonna tell you. but, really, a part of me felt like it wasn’t my place and i...i really just didn’t wanna make you sad,” he says, his voice and eyes honest and sweet even though you find his words incredibly stupid. 

“i know that’s so stupid,” the boy acknowledges, a dry, humorless tone in his voice. “but i almost...wanted him to get caught, you know? so you saw it firsthand and realized, like, your worth, i guess. even though seeing that would’ve made you sad too, so i... i guess i really just don’t fucking know. i didn’t know what to do.”

and you don’t know if it’s because of his rambling or the absurdity of the situation but you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, air leaving your nose that has mingi looking at you in surprise.

“you’re right,” you say a smile quirking at your lips that has mingi looking over your face carefully. “that is stupid.” 

“but it’s also stupid to be mad at you, i guess,” you say when he looks down in embarrassment, emphasizing your last two words sarcastically as you sit back on the couch and look him over. “wooyoung was the one who was supposed to be loyal to me, not you.”

“but kind of me, too,” mingi says softly, his arm reaching out to pluck a piece a hair off your shoulder absentmindley. his touch is gentle and warm and his long fingers linger on your skin, the move shocking you as much as it comforts you.

mingi had been touchy and affectionate after just a few weeks of you knowing him, one to pull someone in for a hug or wrap an arm around their shoulder opposed to a stiff, clammy handshake. it was something you liked about him immediately, how warm and innocently affectionate he was.

“wooyoung’s my friend but so are... so were you.”

you watch his fingers rest on the couch cushion next to you as you let out a small, shaky breath, something about his words causing you to look up and narrow your eyes.

“were?”

a pink, dare you say, nervous, blush crosses mingi’s face that causes you to hold back a laugh, his eyes wide as he shakes his head quickly.

“are. you are my friend,” he clarifies quickly, unsure eyes still roaming you. “i just...wasn’t sure if you still wanted to be.”

his stammered words coupled in with his pink cheeks and dark, wind-blown hair have a small smile stretching across your face, a sigh leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him and shrug.

“well, i guess i can’t lose you too, huh?”

you’ve never seen a smile as big as the one that crosses mingi’s face after you say that, his arm reaching out and pulling you into him; the boy really does underestimate his size and strength, though, dragging you right across the couch and straight into his hard body where he begins to stammer out more apologies.

“tell you what,” you say, craning your neck to look up at him. “the next time some asshole’s cheating on me, just tell me right away and i’ll accept these 200 apologies from you, yeah?”

“there’s not gonna be a next time,” mingi promises, his familiar scent and loud, happy voice bouncing off your living room walls. “because i’ll beat the shit out of anyone who hurts you again.”

you roll your eyes as you push him over on the couch, letting out one of your first genuine giggles in weeks as you watch him flop on the cushions like a fish out of water.

and you really think mingi’s what you got through the months that followed that conversation.

because if he wasn’t driving down every few weekends to hang out, you were texting and facetiming almost every hour of the day. 

he helped you through the rest of your senior year, when senioritis hit it’s peak and you all but refused to do any homework or projects. he was the first person you called when you needed motivation (or distractions), talking into the wee hours of the morning or falling asleep on facetime together.

he was also the first person you called when college acceptance letters came in, his deep, happy voice expressing how he knew you were gonna get in.

“and you’re gonna go to the one only thirty minutes away from me, yeah?” he asked playfully, your eyes rolling as you plopped down on your bed.

“yeah, right,” you giggle out, looking over the three pamphlets as you, really, try to consider how to even begin the process of choosing.

that’s another thing mingi ended up helping you with, weighing the pros and cons of each school with you and even suggesting you drive up to him so you can tour the college close to his.

you don’t know for sure but maybe that’s why you ended up accepting that offer, after seeing the beautiful campus in person, the friendly students and ‘spacious’ dorm rooms that looked a whole lot better than two out of state schools you’d have to wait until the summer to see.

but if you asked mingi, he’d say it was absolutely because of him - because now you could see him every day. now he could easily help move you in and bring you lunch and show you the spots off campus where they never check ids or question a bad fake.

and while all of those were certainly helpful, you especially liked that, when classes started up and nearly knocked you on your ass, mingi was there to help you some more.

“you said professors were nice!” you squealed, hitting him in the arm as you two walked into a coffee shop smack in the middle of your two colleges; it’s also the coffee shop you waited pathetically in this past valentine’s day, but you try to let that painful memory slip your mind.

“hey! i’m sorry, most of them are!” mingi defends, his eyes widening and a laugh nearly bursting from his mouth when he sees the five syllabuses you throw onto the table.

“oh? then what is this?”

and sure enough, almost every class lists required textbooks costing over $150, several papers throughout the year, and a strict two-absence policy that will result in a whole letter grade drop if broken.

“and then if we miss because of a death in the family, we have to bring proof! what kind of sick shit is that?” you squeak, arms flying and eyes nearly bulging out of your head; if you were already this fucked after only a week of classes, you don’t even wanna know how you’re gonna be when real work starts.

mingi takes a hold of your arms to stop your flailing, his large, warm hands seeping through the sleeves of your shirt causing you to look up at him.

“babe...you gotta calm down.”

you don’t remember when he started dropping little pet names like that, or when his touches got more frequent and lingered, but you only know it’s something you guys don’t comment on. how, sometimes, both of you can even hear the others fastened heartbeat if you’re close enough or will meet gazes before shyly looking away.

you look up at him with a pout, the teasing smirk on his handsome face making you wanna stomp on his foot.

“i don’t wanna take a picture with my grandma’s corpse,” you whine, knowing that if anyone were watching you both right now, they’d think you were nuts.

“and you won’t have to,” mingi says, an inappropriate laugh bubbling from his mouth that causes you to smack his arm roughly. “why are you hitting me!” he yelps, a soft, amused smile on his face. “i’m trying to help you.”

and because you’re whining and he’s laughing, amused eyes locked on one another while his hands run up and down your arms soothingly, you both miss the fact that someone was around to see you both.

someone watching with hard eyes and a sinking heart at hearing your familiar laugh, at seeing your eyes twinged with amusement and happiness looking at someone who isn’t him.

but he knows he doesn’t deserve to see that anymore. that he ruined that chance with you and he shouldn’t even be surprised that you were able to move on to someone better.

even if that someone was his friend, a fact that’s making his blood boil right about now.

“you good?”

yeosang’s voice pierces wooyoung’s ears the second they leave the coffee shop, a knowing look on the boy’s face as the other can only shrug.

“yeah,” wooyoung says quietly, looking back through the window to see you dragging mingi to the counter by the hand. 

your touches look comfortable and familiar, like you’d spent weeks, or even months, growing closer to one another; he knows that it takes you a while to warm up to people, only letting a select few in - which now probably worsened after the shit he did.

with that knowledge, he also knows that it doesn’t even matter if he wasn’t good (which he’s not, he feels it in the way his chest is aching and veins are burning) because he knew it was a mistake. 

he knew sneaking around and lying to you was leading him down a path that would cost him the best thing that ever happened to him. he was the one suffering without you while you’re, apparently, able to move on.

and evidently, he’s also the one whose always been selfish - hoping that there’s a way you’ll somehow forgive him and see that, even though he wronged you, a part of him still wants you.

and he always gets what he wants.

“y/n, c’mon pleaseeee.” 

it’s the eighth time mingi whined that sentence to you over the phone this week, a sigh leaving your mouth as you smack your hands onto your comforter. 

“mingi, i’ve said the same thing for the past four days! what makes you think my answer’s gonna be any different tonight?”

the first month of school had, admittedly, kicked your ass. 

it wasn’t even that the work was challenging or daunting, you liked what you were learning and you even made a few friends in your classes, but it just feels like you’ve never gotten a moment to yourself since this all started.

if you’re not surrounded by classmates or your roommate, you’re working at the coffee shop you and mingi frequented so much, they offered you a job. but with your roommate gone this weekend and you not on the work schedule till sunday evening, you intended to spend the next two days in bed.

catching up on shows, taking naps in between, taking some time to catch up on reading -  you were only gonna move when your bladder and stomach begged you to, not a tall, whiney man.

“because i’m begging,” mingi sighs, knowing with 100% certainty you’re already curled up in bed with your laptop in front of you. “how many fucking times are you gonna rewatch love alarm?”

your mouth drops open as your eyes fall to the screen, jojo and sun-oh’s faces staring back at yours causing your cheeks to flush; how the hell did he know that first of all?

“until season two comes out,” you whine back, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth before he sighs. you roll your eyes at the sound, pushing yourself to your feet to grab water from the mini fridge. “if you wanna hang out so bad, come over tonight and watch with me.”

“you know i would but i already told people i was coming,” he explains, a pout on his face he wishes you could see in an effort to persuade you (even though you’d probably just curl your lip in disgust). 

“then have fun and enjoy! i’ll be watching sun-oh whisk jojo away and-”

“i know why you don’t wanna go.”

the words die in your throat just as you hear him say that, his voice low and sympathetic that has you poking your tongue into your cheek; he only uses that voice when he thinks you’re about to be upset by something. 

and it’s not hard for you to gather what he’s thinking, given that he wants you to go to your ex-boyfriend’s campus party. 

“if you’re thinking what i think you’re thinking, then you’re wrong.”

because if he has this notion that you don’t wanna run into wooyoung, then yes, he’s wrong. sure, you don’t wanna particularly see him, but it’s been months. you’re over him and you know he’s over you, there’d be no reason to alter your life in hopes to avoid him. 

“what do you think i’m thinking?”

“we’re not doing this, mingi,” you groan, pushing yourself away from the counter and heading right toward your warm bed. “i’m not going for no other reason than i wanna stay in my bed for the next two days. you can come over after if you want but i’m not setting foot in that disgusting frat house. have fun and don’t drink too much!”

and with that, you hang up and crawl under the blankets with a content smile on your face. 

one that drops when you hear a knock on your door thirty minutes later, already knowing by the distinct pattern that it’s no other than the boy you hung up at the start of your episode. 

“that was a quick party,” you say when you open the door, leaning against the frame as you stare at mingi with a raised eyebrow. 

he looks the same way he did during the conversation that rekindled your friendship, his hand toying at the back of his hair and a nervous smile on his face. 

“yeah...” he laughs out awkwardly, the stare he’s giving you causing you to shake your head immediately. 

“you didn’t go, did you?”

“no. i wanted to pick you up first.”

he sees fury cross your face and your arm reaching out to smack him, his hand quickly catching it and pulling you into him.

“c’monnn, we’ll only stay for an hour. and then we’ll come back here and finish love alarm for the 700th time.” 

your eyebrows narrow at you stare up at the boy, so annoyed at him ruining your night you don’t even realize how close your bodies are pressed up against one another. his hard, toned chest against yours that would, without a doubt, make you flush if you realized. 

“please,” he whines, a pout on his face as he tightens his hold on you. “i don’t wanna go alone, i told them i was bringing a friend. and i miss you. we haven’t seen each other in a few days and-

“just shut up,” you growl, pulling him in your room by his shirt because you just know he’s fucking relentless. you close your laptop begrudgingly, throwing him a dirty look before you go to the closet to change out of your sweatpants. 

“you should wear the jeans with the-”

the look you throw his way immediately causes him to stop talking, a smirk crossing your face as you turn away and curse him out in your head for looking so handsome, maybe you couldn’t resist walking in with him tonight. 

but you also couldn’t resist the way your eyes roamed the crowded frat house forty minutes later, the familiar scent of alcohol and sweat invading your senses. 

there’s just as many people as last year when you came, a sticky cluster of bodies that is all too off putting when you were just bound to your bed in pajamas and fuzzy socks. 

you’re also all too aware of the setting that’s giving you flashbacks, beer pong tables and what seems like dozens of pretty girls with dark hair littering the house - it’s making you far more uncomfortable than you care to admit.

“y/n,” you hear a voice say, your neck turning toward the male presence. it takes you a few seconds to remember who he is, attractive features you remember thinking were so regal causing you to smile politely. 

“you should tell him it bothers you,” you hear yeosang say, looking over at the boy with a wide eyed gaze. he says it so straight forwardly that it causes you to grow nervous, biting your lip before you open your mouth to speak.

“what?”

he raises his eyebrow and you know he’s seeing through your lie. the lie that you’re not all bothered by being here and watching him play with another girl. a girl you’re almost positive has ill-intentions. and now you see where yeosang’s bluntness comes in.

“that him and lisa make you uncomfortable,” yeosang tells you, looking over and seeing them smile at one another in victory. “because you’re worried, aren’t you?”

it’s the first time it’s been verbalized and it makes your stomach squeeze painfully, sadness and anger and disappointment flooding through you. 

“should i be?” you squeak, since you know he sees you them a lot more than you.

“i don’t know,” he says, the both of you looking over in time to see lisa smack wooyoung’s arm playfully as she throws her head back. “should you be?”

that was the first and only conversation you had with the boy and yet he hinted more to you than anyone else in your life at the time; granted it was still early in but he had obviously saw something, too.

maybe a suspicious glint in wooyoung’s eye, lingering over lisa despite your presence a few feet away. maybe he could tell you weren’t gonna be enough to keep him loyal, maybe he-

you shake your head of these thoughts, reminding yourself that you’re over this.

you’re over him and the way he made you feel and everything about the whole breakup entirely; why would you want someone who, when it came down to it, didn’t want you back?

“hi, yeosang,” you say with a sweet smile, mingi greeting the shorter boy before someone else pulls his attention away. you let out a sigh and roll your eyes, a deep chuckle leaving the boy who pats the seat next to him.

he’s not surprised to see you but he is surprised that you came here tonight, of all places. where he knows wooyoung is lingering and knows when he sees you, he’s gonna come over with sorrow in his eyes and a voice to match. 

ever since the breakup, yeosang had been the one there for wooyoung. he knew what the boy was doing was wrong, and he felt bad for you, but he also knew wooyoung could do anything and he’d still be there for him.

he could disagree with him and find his actions and decisions questionable but in the end, he’d be there for him. 

that’s why he saw and tended to the breakdown wooyoung went through after everything happened. watched the boy become a shell of the person he’d been,  no longer happy and bubbly and, instead, drowning his sorrows with alcohol when he wasn’t doing the bare minimum for school.

yeosang had to tell him more often than not, with some tough love, that he had ruined everything between you two. and for him to wish that he could talk to you or get another chance was incredibly selfish. 

but through all of that, he was there for him. would stop him from drinking himself into a coma or take him out of the house to distract him any chance he got. 

especially because a few weeks after everything, mingi had started distancing himself. the boys had still lived together until the semester ended in may, but it’d been obvious the boy wasn’t as...tolerant of wooyoung as he was. 

and now he sees why. with the way mingi’s soft eyes are looking at you from across the room, watching closely as you sit down next to him and send a polite smile his way.

“so what, you loved these parties so much you decided to come to school here?” yeosang smiles teasingly, a deep chuckle leaving him when your face turns into a grimace.

you tell him how you go to the school just a half hour away, how it was the only school you were able to tour in person and how, with sinking suspicions, that mingi played a big role in you coming here.

“my roommate is so nice though,” you share with him, a happy smile on your face as you tell him about the girl whose face piercings and dark makeup are a complete contrast to her sweet, soft-spoken personality; you remember thinking when you first met that she was gonna rip your head off, especially because you came in jabbering with an even more excitable mingi.

but she loved him and you immediately and as far as roommates went, you couldn’t be happier. 

“and i work at a coffee shop now. i was a little thrown off the first few weeks but i think i’ve finally adjusted,” you giggle out, a small smirk on his face that you find far too endearing.

“that’s good,” yeosang says before he reluctantly adds, “i’ve seen you working there a few times.”

“oh?” 

your eyebrows pull together as you cock your head to the side in confusion; you’d never seen him in there before. and you think you would’ve recognized him immediately, even outside of this sleazy frat house. 

“yeah, the first week of classes we were there and saw you and mingi,” he says, “then i went back and saw you working behind the counter.”

you don’t comment on the we, because you have a good feeling about who he’s talking about, so you only nod and smile, telling him to say hi next time and you’ll give him a cookie on the house. 

“i know she didn’t just offer you a free cookie,” mingi says, plopping down next to you and throwing his arm around you. “i ask all the time and she laughs in my face.”

“because you come in every day!” you squeal, smacking in the stomach lightly. “they’d go broke and i’d be fired.”

“you’re a grimy fuck to even ask,” yeosang says, a laugh bubbling out of your mouth at the look on mingi’s face. you listen to the boys bicker back and forth as your eyes roam the room, everything about the scene so familiar but also different. 

you don’t feel uncomfortable or nervous for the same reasons you did a year ago, when the music was too loud and the scent was overwhelming and there were just too many people.

now you’re uncomfortable and nervous about just who’s lingering in this crowd, like you’re about to be met with something, or someone rather, that’s gonna hurt you. 

even though you’ve convinced yourself that you’re okay and you won’t care. you won’t care in the slightest if you see lisa under wooyoung’s arm across the room, if you see now that those months really did mean something to them and they were able to prevail.

nope. it won’t bother you at all; in fact, you think two people like that probably deserve each other.

but your roaming eyes say otherwise. the nervous knot in the pit of your stomach and the way you press yourself closer to mingi (in a way he doesn’t comment on but welcomes) says if you see them together, you might lose your shit just a little bit. 

“you good?” mingi asks lowly in your ear, his large hand falling onto your knee. you feel the warmth through your jeans and the indents of his rings against your leg, looking up at him with a forced, tight smile.

“i’d be better if i was in bed like i planned,” you say through clenched teeth, a deadly look in your eye that should make him fearful but just makes him laugh.

“oh, c’mon, aren’t you having fun? you got to see your old friend-”

“yeosang.”

and like the universe was showing mingi just how much fun it was allowing you to have tonight, a voice that makes your blood run cold finishes mingi’s sentence.

your eyes snap to the boy you haven’t seen in over eight months, a face that once made you so stupidly happy with his wide smile and sparkling eyes; you remember when you first met him, you were so confused by the look them. 

why he looked at you so fondly and made your heart flutter even though it shouldn’t have been.

and that’s the exact feeling you’re getting right now, seeing the boy who, the last time you looked at him was crying and begging and desperate, look at you with glossed over eyes and not a hint of a smile.

“hey, woo,” yeosang says, noticing his friend’s lingering gaze and your obvious discomfort; he doesn’t think an atmosphere has ever gotten so tense so fast. 

it takes him a second to stutter out the response “hi,” his eyes moving from yours to mingi’s hand on your leg before back to you. you can’t help the way you quirk an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to say something about mingi’s hands on you before he shakes it off and looks to yeosang.

you only listen to the boys speak as you look down at your feet, mingi’s arm tightening around you when you start to wiggle them. it’s a nervous habit he’s picked up on after these months of getting to know you and, apparently, he’s not the only one who remembers it.

“you do that every time i sit next to you.”

you peer up at the senior who’s insisted on spending lunch with you for the past three weeks, the ever-present teasing smile on his cocky face making your eyebrows pull together.

“do what?”

he nods his head down to the floor where you’re tapping away, toes wiggling in your shoes as the balls of your feet bounce up and down slightly. 

your cheeks flush and you shrug your shoulders, not wanting him to know that, while you’re confused by his company, it doesn’t make you any less aware of how attractive he is. doesn’t make the stupid little crush you’ve developed on him any less intense or you any less nervous.

“oh,” you say quietly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks that makes his teasing smile widen. 

“yeah, oh,” he mocks, his eyes lighting up with amusement you know it’s directed toward you. you narrow yours at him but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest, his foot hitting yours under the table playfully. 

“it’s okay, i think i just make you a little nervous.”

“nervous?” you ask, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head. “why on earth would i be nervous?”

and with a playful cock of his head, a smile on his face that only grew softer and sweeter over time, he so boldly said “because you like me too, don’t you?”

you catch wooyoung looking at your feet and immediately stop bouncing them, putting your right sneaker over your left before looking up at mingi with a small smile. 

“i’m gonna go get a drink.”

“i’ll come with-”

“it’s fine, it’s right there,” you say, nodding your head into the kitchen only a few feet away. 

you leave before mingi can even respond, quickly getting up and scurrying away from the tense atmosphere you know is partially because of you. you need to just get away from all of that for a second, knowing that this was a possibility tonight but didn’t think it would happen so fast.

it’s easy to think you’re over something when you’re not presented directly with it but, now, seeing him makes all those masked feelings come to the surface.

how hurt and betrayed and upset you were by what he did. how you tried to convince yourself that you were over everything simply because you know you deserve better; and while you know that, it still doesn’t quell the memories.

doesn’t stop you from thinking about the nights before he went away to school, the two of you under the stars when he assured you he loved you and didn’t wanna break up with you. teased you for thinking he’d wanna break up with his high school girlfriend when he went off to college.

“i don’t wanna break up,” you whimpered against him, your hands fisting his grey sweatshirt as you hid your face in his neck. he pressed a kiss to your head, bringing a hand to your back as he rubbed up and down soothingly.

“who said anything about breaking up, my love?” he cooed, the term of endearment causing your stomach to swoop. 

“i-i just assumed you wouldn’t wanna be with your high school girlfriend in college,” you say quietly against him. “it would make sense, i guess, so i can’t say i blame you but-”

he brings your face to his as he places a firm kiss on your lips, melting into you as he palms your cheek softly. you kiss him back immediately, feeling your heart break at the thought of never being able to do this again.

“i don’t know why you’re thinking like that,” he mumbles once he pulls back, running his hand through your hair before tucking the strands behind your ear. “but get those thoughts out of your head. i’m not breaking up with you, baby. in case you forgot, i just told you i loved you the other day.”

“i know but-”

“but what?” he asks with a smirk, pushing you down on your back and rubbing the stray tear off your cheek. “you think i just say shit to say it?”

“no, but-”

“then stop. i’ll tell everyone at college i have a high school girlfriend and they won’t have shit to say about it.”

it doesn’t stop you from remembering how much his voice and eyes used to calm you, how, in a setting like this, one look from him would completely put you at ease and make you feel better. 

“y/n.”

you immediately grow tense at wooyoung’s voice saying your name, not having heard it fall from his lips in what felt like forever. 

you’re debating whether you even wanna turn around and look at him again, knowing you can just go on your way and completely ignore him. knowing you should go on your way and completely ignore him.

but instead you turn to him and give him a blank look, waiting for him to say something else before you turn back and rummage through the cooler for a soda. your hand searches through the freezing ice for a red can of coke, the tips of your fingers growing numb as you fish through the water.

partially because you can’t find one and partially because you don’t wanna turn back around and face him.

“you drink now?” 

your neck cranes up to look at wooyoung, his eyes soft and curious as he looks down at you. you hate how your body still responds to him, how he still looks so handsome but also like he lost a little bit of weight. 

you hate how a part of you is concerned about that, wondering if he hasn’t been eating well or is doing drugs harder than pot.

“no,” is all you say shortly, deeming your efforts for a soda useless and shaking the wetness off your hand. your eyes fall to his empty ones and you raise an eyebrow, surprised not to see some sort of can of alcohol near him. 

“i don’t really drink anymore,” he offers after a few silent seconds, your eyes raising to his before mingi’s voice plays in your mind - “wooyoung was so shitfaced the first time they kissed, he didn’t even remember. he didn’t know until lisa showed him a picture.”

“i didn’t really ask,” you say before you can stop yourself, his face falling before a sigh leaves his mouth. 

“i guess i deserve that,” he mumbles lowly, your teeth sinking into your cheek before you turn to leave. 

you begin to wonder why mingi and yeosang let him follow you in the first place before you feel a hand lightly touch the back of your arm, your neck snapping back and arm pulling away when he mutters your name pleadingly. 

“how have you-”

“we’re not doing this.”

“i just wanna talk, y/n,” he says quietly, the sad desperation obvious in his tone. “i haven’t seen or talked to you in months.”

“and why is that, woo?” 

you don’t even mean for the nickname to fall from your lips but it does, twists his stomach in a way that makes him feel even more shitty and defeated and guilty. 

tears prick your eyes as you realize you haven’t said that name since febuary, his own softened gaze on you making you shake your head and take a step back. 

“if we could just talk for a few-”

“we’re not doing this,” you repeat firmly, taking a step away from his looming presence. “i wasn’t even supposed to come tonight.”

“but you came with...mingi?” he asks lowly, like spitting the boy’s name out was the hardest thing he had to do in months. 

but you bet what you had to do over these past few months was harder. 

finish school while also dealing with the heartbreak that comes with being betrayed in such an awful way. building back up your confidence and worth and trying so hard to convince yourself you didn’t do anything wrong. 

that’s why you narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, holding back the slew of curse threatening to leave your mouth. 

“yeah. i did,” you say confidently, your eyes roaming back to mingi to see him making his way over to you. “and i’m sure there’s someone waiting around here for you, too.”

you watch his face crumble and mouth open to speak but you’re quick to shake your head and walk to mingi, rage filling your chest when you feel wooyoung’s warm, strong hand grab you by the wrist.

“y/n, wait-”

“don’t touch me,” you spit out, ripping your arm away from him harshly. 

you can see he regrets the movement the second you look at him but can’t find it in yourself to care, giving him one last look before walking over to mingi - his face, too, is apologetic but much more fearful than your ex’s.

“he said he was going over to-”

“love alarm. now. before i bash your head in and never agree to anything ever again.”

“we’ll pick up snacks,” he says, a hesitant, happy smile creeping up on his face despite your unwavering expression. “my treat.”

“no shit your treat,” you grumble, your hand snaking through mingi’s larger one as you pull him out of the frat house into the cool, fall air. 

it’s the much needed crispness you need after the sweaty, tense air you were just subjected to, you and mingi hand in hand as you walk to his car parked a few blocks away. 

there’s only a few moments of silence before he addresses the elephant in the room.

“did he say something to you?”

you look up to see mingi staring at you with a soft expression, a sigh leaving your mouth as you nod your head. he stops you both from walking, his hand moving to your hip as you two stand in the street.

there’s a soft glow on him cast from the street light, his eyes roaming your face making his heart pang in your chest. he can see your tense and upset right now, your lips rolling over one another like when you’re trying not to cry or scream.

“are you okay?” he asks softly, a question that would usually make you roll your eyes making your face soften; you know the boy has his faults, a little confused and naive and doesn’t always make the right choices, but he always means well.

he truly cares for people and doesn’t like seeing them sad.

“i’m okay,” you confirm with a small nod, a tiny smile pulling at your lips. “i...it’s over now, you know. it’s different seeing him after all this time. harder than i thought, really, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

mingi nods his head as he squeezes your hip lightly, taking your hand back in his. they swing playfully in between your bodies, a touch that seems very juvenile and platonic filling you with a warmth you don’t think you should be feeling yet. 

you told yourself to wait a year. you even heard somewhere that, for as long as you’ve been with someone in your younger years, you should try to be single for the same amount of time afterward.

take a moment to focus on yourself and ‘soul search’ for the things you want in life.

but having mingi by your side has made that goal harder, or maybe easier depending on how you look at it; especially because his touches linger and make you want more. his eyes watch you so softly and the smile that lights up his face when he first sees you makes you happier than you’ve been in a while. 

“we’re not friends with her anymore.” 

you don’t expect him to say that but it makes your eyes widen. 

because for as long as you guys have discussed wooyoung and the situation, neither of you have ever addressed lisa directly. where she is now or if they remained friends - you told him a million times that you didn’t care.

and even after seeing wooyoung tonight, you want that to still ring true; but again, your actions don’t match your thoughts.

“oh?”

“yeah. a few weeks after that happened, woo refused to be in the same room as her. said it made him sick.”

a scornful laugh threatens to leave your mouth at that, since the last time you’d seen them together, their tongues were down each other’s throats and he was mostly definitely not sick by it.

“anytime we were with her and her friends, he’d leave and say he didn’t wanna be around her. then he just started to avoid us so we eventually just cut them all off. we didn’t really like them anyway, to be honest.”

it takes you a few moments to process his words but it proves to just be too much for your emotionally drained, distraught mind.

“why are you telling me this?”

mingi’s hand tightens ever so slightly on yours as you two continue to walk, his thumb rubbing against your cold skin as the silence remains. 

you can only hear the gravel beneath your feet and the last few cicadas that can stand the crip fall weather, looking ahead in the darkness and wondering if he’s ever gonna answer you. 

“because he’s waiting for you.”

your feet halt and you look up at him, eyes wide and shocked as he looks down at you. you can’t quite make out the expression on his face, maybe something like fear or hesitance that makes your heart lurch. 

“he...told yeosang he wants you to forgive him. and to give him another chance.”

a little bit of every emotion rips through you at this knowledge, rage and annoyance and outrage but also a little bit of sadness you’re not ready to address.

“he’s got balls, i’ll give him that,” you mutter, a smirk quirking on mingi’s lips as he nods his head. he doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, torn between his lasting bits of loyalty to wooyoung but his feelings for you. 

because over these past few months, he’s wanted nothing more than to kiss you and hug you and make you see you can trust him - not only as a friend but a boyfriend. 

a much better boyfriend than the one you had; but he understands you need a friend and he’s okay with that - more than okay, really. though the looks you give him make his heart pound just a little harder, like when you lean your head on his shoulder during a movie or play with his fingers until you fall asleep on his lap. 

“but...i think there’s better people out there for me,” you say quietly, head cocked to the side as you start to toy with his long fingers. it’s flirty and daring and maybe a little vengeful after your conversation with wooyoung but you also know it’s genuine. 

that the feelings you have for mingi and the way he makes your chest warm is very much so real. 

“don’t you think?”

a smile lights up his face and he has to tell his heart to calm down before it explodes, a knowing glint in his eye as he looks over your face and nods his head. 

“i do think,” he says, tapping you on the tip of your nose in a way that makes you giggle. you watch as he turns and bends down, a smile lighting up your face as you immediately move to jump on his back.

“now what snacks do you want for tonight, little one?”

the next three weekends you’re deemed safe from any college parties, either your shifts at the coffee shop or mingi’s school work keeping you free from his whining or incessant phone calls.

but the second you heard a knock on your door one saturday night, your movie on in the background and popcorn popping in the microwave, something tells you that you’re fucked. that you’ve steered clear of that sticky, overcrowded house for far too long, and it’s like the tall, handsome boy at your door has realized it. 

“you’ve evaded me long enough.”

“sadly, i don’t agree,” you respond dryly, a smirk on the boy’s face as he lets himself in before you can close the door. you let out a groan as he helps himself to your freshly cooked bag of popcorn, throwing the pieces in his mouth as he tells you to get dressed. 

“now why would i do that?” you ask, hands on your hips and a snippy tone already in your voice. 

but it doesn’t deter mingi in the slightest; if anything, it almost eggs him on even more. his eyes squinting before he abandons the popcorn and charges toward you, large hands gripping your waist as he guides you to your closet and tells you to change.

the deep, commanding tone in his voice should make you angry. it should make you roll your eyes and tell him he’s not the boss of you. that you have no intentions of going out and he could either leave or stay for the movie. 

but it’s the contrast of that and the sweet look in his eye that always gets you. how he can be tough and commanding but then cute and playful. 

it’s always what gets that feeling of electric between you, his body looming over yours and eyes staring up at one another challengingly. a part of you always wants to tell him to fuck off but then know you wouldn’t be able to handle the sad, mildly pathetic look on his face. 

“it’s halloween-themed. but no costumes,” he says, tightening his hold on you and toying with the ends of your white t-shirt. “so match with me.”

your hands travel to his broad shoulders, his muscles under your hands affecting you far more than you’re leading on. a part of you wants to feel just how warm and soft his skin is, trail your finger over his collarbone until he groans or warns you to watch it. 

your nails dig into his back ever so slightly, your brow cocked and head turned to the side as you slowly start to step closer to him. his knees hit your bed frame just as you push him back, his butt plopping on your comforter as you stand in between his legs.

“no,” is all you say, a knowing smirk on your face as you watch his eyes flame with something like arousal and disbelief. 

he shakes his head and watches you walk to your closet, throwing himself back on your bed with a silent groan and a plea that, tonight, you don’t push him too much. 

but a few hours into the night, a few too many beers in mingi and your own growing attraction toward him has the night leading in that direction. 

you knew mingi was a good dancer, something you learned at one of these parties last year. it was the only thing that made you smile on those nights actually, watching the boy go from bumping and grinding to jumping around like a kid with a sugar high.

and lucky for you, tonight, he was going with the former. his body placed behind yours, not a stitch of alcohol coursing through your veins, as you guys dance and giggle and and talk to a few people from his classes. 

it’s something very casual, nothing innately sexual about your moves other then your bodies are close and you can feel his groin against you. but you’re both just moving to the beat, your head thrown back on his shoulder as a girl tells you all about mingi’s public speaking skills, or lack thereof. 

“he gets sooo red it’s actually kind of cute,” she tells you, the wink she throws your way making you both share a smirk; because anyone with eyes can see that, embarrassed or not, terrible at public speaking or not, he’s cute. 

“ehh, he’s okay,” you tease lightly, his hold on your waist tightening. you squeal when his cold hand touches the sliver of skin exposed from your shirt, elbowing him lightly before turning around and poking at his cheek. 

“what?”

“i’m okay?” he mocks, the look on his flushed face making you giggle into him. 

“well, what do you want me to say?” you ask, cocking your head to the side in a way you know is gonna cause trouble. but you wanna push him to that point, the excited warmth fluttering in your chest when he looks at you in a way that makes you feel wanted.

you hadn’t been able to see it at first, mingi’s clear affection and liking toward you meanwhile he thinks it was there even when you were with wooyoung; but of course, he knew better than to act on it, watching your smile and laugh from afar and hoping that wooyoung knew how lucky he was.

because he’s pretty sure since the moment he met you, when you came in holding wooyoung’s hand with a small, shy smile on you flushed face, he even wanted you then.

but now, it’s like the roles have switched. now, there’s a very drunken, very pissed off wooyoung standing across the room wishing he could be the taller boy.

he’d been watching you two since the moment you arrived, what sparked the alcohol he guzzled down in a matter of a few hours after he told himself he was done drinking.

yeosang told him to stop drinking beers so he moved to shots and that’s why he’s currently stumbling around and muttering under his breath, already the defeated, shitfaced boy no one wants to be at a public event.

he knows he shouldn’t feel it, the anger brewing inside his chest at seeing you and mingi pressed up one another flirting. but he is. he’s so fucking mad and jealous and seething, it’s only a matter of time before the slightest bit of sanity he has left breaks. 

makes him stomp over and grab you in a way he knows isn’t right. in a way he knows will make you hate him even more; but maybe that’s why he does it. just completely self destructing because seeing you again, and seeing you with someone else, has really put things into perspective for him.

that he’s not the sweet, perfect boyfriend he thought he was and, instead, someone very flawed and toxic. someone who hurt you and is now expecting a second chance solely because he loves you. 

someone who, after seeing his ex girlfriend try to move on and build up her confidence again, ends up stumbling over and grabbing her by the arm anyway. 

one second you’re looking up at mingi and smiling and the next your neck nearly snaps off, looking down at the tight grip on your arm as you hear a familiar voice growl to the taller boy that you and him need a minute. 

you don’t know why or how mingi allows it to happen but suddenly, you’re outside. the cold air surrounding you does nothing to calm your burning veins, ripping your arm from wooyoung’s grasp and pushing him back with all the strength you could muster.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, not even have spotted the boy all night. “i told you not to touch me.”

“i know you did. and i know you hate me. and i also know i deserve that but-”

“no shit,” you snap, taking a step backward and looking the boy up and down who you barely recognize right now. he still looks like the person you once loved but his demeanor is so incredibly different, eyes hazy and bloodshot from the alcohol you can smell on his breath. 

“i miss you,” he mutters lowly, the drunken slur to his words making your stomach twist. “i just...i just wanna talk, y/n and if you still-”

“i don’t wanna talk to you.”

and if wooyoung was sober and in the right frame of mind, he wouldn’t have approached you to begin with. he wouldn’t have dared put his hands on you again and begged you for a second chance like he did that fateful afternoon.

but because he’s a mess, because he’s been a mess for the past several months, he looms over you and keeps his eyes on you as the next words leave him.

“but you wanna talk to mingi?”

“don’t you dare start that shit,” you spit out, every angry, red-hot emotion searing up in your veins - but you’re happy it’s not tears, at least. you think if you cried in this man’s presence again, you’d have to hide away for the rest of your life. “you don’t get to do that.”

“i don’t get to feel jealous that i can’t talk to the girl i lov-”

and similar to the slap you gave him that day, when you walked in and saw another girl in his lap, you can’t stop yourself when you do it this time either. have him taint that word and feeling for you anymore than he did when he lied to your face for months.

“it’s your fucking fault, wooyoung. you did this. you cheated on me and completely proved that that’s not true,” you snap, anger-filled eyes burning into his. “so don’t say that to me.”

“you don’t know what i feel,” he counters lowly, a slur to his words that has you knowing this is not the time for this conversation.” i’m telling the truth.” 

he stumbles closer to you and you’re so focused on staring him down that you don’t see his hand move to your waist. 

“you don’t know how much i fucking regret it. please, baby, if you’d just-”

“get away from me.”

“get away from me,” you say, attempting to rip your hands from his grasp. but he only tightens them and brings you closer to him.

“just please, give me five fucking minutes, y/n, so we can finally-”

“if you just listen to me, maybe you’ll-”

“stop,” you say, struggling to pull your hands free. you need to get away from him. you can’t hear him sound this pathetic and sad and begging.

“stop. let go of me, wooyoung,” you say, voice firm and strong despite how shaky and upset you’re getting on the inside. the familiarity of this scene is too much, his desperate pleas and your building sadness and hurt making a lump form in your throat.

“did you know i was drunk when it first happened?” he slurs out, his glossy eyes looking at you with such pathetic desperation. “i didn’t even know what the fuck happened the next morning. i didn’t remember anything, not even how i got home.”

you swallow down any response regarding the first incident, feeling tears burn your eyes as you shake your head at him; you can see she completely took advantage of him but...

“but what about the time after that? and then the time after that?” you ask, watching as his face falls and you feel heart break in a way it hasn’t in months; he may be telling the truth about the first time but if that really were the case, it wouldn’t have happened when he was stone cold sober on a friday morning. 

“what about those two months after, wooyoung?” you voice aloud, begging the tears behind your eyes not to fall. “were you shitfaced then?”

“no but i-”

“exactly,” you spit out. “you knew what you were doing then. so get the fuck off me and leave me alone.”

“i can’t, please just-”

“wooyoung, stop.”

it’s mingi’s deep voice that pulls you and wooyoung out of the heated discussion, your ex tightening his hold on you and attempting to pull you behind him. 

he doesn’t wanna lose you yet, you’ve been gone for months. even if you’re fighting and even if you hate him, he’s selfish and he needs you. he wants you still. 

“you stop, mingi,” wooyoung growls, a new type of anger flooding through him. he releases his grip on you and stumbles toward the much taller boy, seemingly unfazed by the size difference as he shoves him back.

“if anyone should be pissed here, it’s me. stealing my fucking girl like some little bitch.”

“she’s not your girl anymore,” mingi says lowly, his eyes and body tense as he stares down wooyoung. “if you weren’t shitfaced right now, you’d remember that. and you’d remember why.”

“you’re such a-”

“enough, woo,” you say quietly, the nickname that rendered him hurt three weeks ago when you said it making him snap his head back to look at you; and before you can see his softened, glossy eyes, you warn him to never do this again before you turn to go home. 

you hear footsteps follow behind the whole way, knowing that it’s mingi and knowing that his head is probably trained on his feet right now. you don’t stop walking until you’re at his car in the campus parking lot, leant against the side and looking up at him for the first time in twenty minutes.

he sees unshed tears in your eyes and his face immediately crumbles, about to take you in his arms when you hold out your arm and shake your head. 

“please... don’t ask me to come to another one of these.” 

guilt immediately consumes him and his adams apple bobs, a quick nod of his head before he pulls you into his chest. you sniffle against his shirt and inhale his scent. you couldn’t help in the beginning but compare him to wooyoung, the different smell of his cologne and broader chest under your head. 

it was a good different but you hate that, even after an exchange like the one you and him just had, your mind still goes back to wooyoung; you still think about him and compare them and maybe that’s why you’re crying right now. too 

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” mingi mumbles against your head.

you don’t even realize there’s tears on your face until he pulls back and wipes at them, that broken feeling within your chest so painful it feels like you’re about to collapse. 

“i hate him, i really do,” you whimper out, shaking your head and wiping at your red face. “i...why did he do it? i thought i was over it, mingi. why am i not...” your voice breaks and you shake your head, struggling to breathe and get the words out in the cold air. “i fucking hate him.”

mingi can only hold you and rock you gently, his warm arms never leaving you as he tries to mend your broken heart. it’s something he’s been trying to do for months and will continue to do, wanting nothing more than for you to be free from the damage wooyoung did.

and if it were that easy, he’d be able to look at this moment in a few months time and see this was when his love and affection for you shined through and helped you. helped you see that there are other people who want to help you and be there for you, who will try their best to treat you better than the boy who hurt you.

but, unfortunately for him, things are never that easy.  

you threw yourself into work and school in a way you’d never done before. 

if you weren’t doing study sessions with a few people from your classes or spending nights in the library, you were busting your ass cleaning tables and dealing with overly nice college kids who attempt to make up for the mean and bitter middle-aged. 

true to mingi’s promise that october night, he never asked you to go to another party again; instead, he’d crash your movie nights afterward, only ever staying at the frat house for an hour or two because “they get old real fucking quick.”

but he never says the same thing about your friday and saturday nights, even though they religiously consist of laying in bed, eating junk food and watching cheesy romantic dramas.

so whether you were taking pity on him or your study groups pleas to meet them at a bar down town finally got to you, you were en route with mingi and a far too chatty uber driver for a night of “much needed fun and drinking,” as one of your friends put it.

“i’m kind of scared,” you mumble to mingi, a smile pulling at his lips at your innocent confession. you’ve never been to a bar before, let alone one that is known to serve under age kids and is raided by the cops monthly. 

“i’ve never been here but i’ve heard it’s fun. the music is pretty good and there’s a live band that-”

“are you two a couple?” 

you and mingi eye each other suspiciously, a smirk playing on both your lips at the man’s awkwardly blurted out question. it’s almost as awkward as you saying yes when mingi says no, the taller boy’s face falling as his head snaps to you. 

“wait...i mean...yes?” mingi says, hand going over your mouth as you hold back a giggle. 

you both hear the man laugh out a response, you far too consumed by mingi’s shocked face while he’s still trying to process why the hell you had said that. he can see it’s all teasing and fun though, a glint in your eye that makes it obvious you were only saying that to quell an uncomfortably nosy question. 

but he’s not ignorant to the fact of how much he wants that to be true. 

“why would he even ask that?” you giggle out as you two walk into the bar, not a bouncer or real id in sight. “right in the middle of our conversation, no less. what a weird thing to do.”

a smile creeps up on mingi’s face as he already sees the effects of your three spiked seltzers from back in your dorm, his hand brushing your hair behind your ear. his eyes linger on your pink cheeks and he has to stop himself from laughing, the two of being pulled from the moment just as it started.

“maybe because he thought we looked-”

“y/n!” 

the familiar squeal of your lab partner’s voice causes you to jump, mingi’s body still close to yours as you say hello and introduce them to each other. 

“for tonight, this is mingi, my boyfriend,” you tease, the wink you throw his way causing him to shove you playfully. 

the girl can only watch with a smirk, knowing that when she drags you to the bathroom in 20 minutes because she broke the seal, she’s gonna have to ask you all about that. 

“hi mingi, boyfriend of the night,” she says, the shy but handsome smile he throws her way all too endearing. her hands falls into yours as she beckons you both to the dance floor, dragging you away just ahead enough to ask if you plan on keeping him longer. 

you only roll your eyes and push her playfully, looking back to smile at mingi who’s watching you in a way that makes you think, tonight, you’re finally gonna kiss him. 

or that could just be the alcohol coursing through your veins, another cup of vodka and something, you don’t even know what your friend asked for. but it’s good, cold and sweet and you’re gone enough where you can barely taste the sting of alcohol going down your throat. 

you wouldn’t say you were drunk, courtesy of the huge meal you and mingi had back at your room, but you’re definitely a little tipsy. tipsy enough to dance without a care in the world, not distracted by the big groups of people or much too stuffy environment. 

you were there to have fun and dance, any problems from school work or shitty customers or a lingering ex-boyfriend the last thing on your mind. 

you haven’t seen wooyoung since that october night, when he was far too drunk and far too emotional and made you cry far too similarly like when you first broke up. 

it’s always a sad, hopeless cry, knowing that you shouldn’t still be hurting but feeling it deep within your gut that, whether you want to admit it or not, you still were. you were still hurt by the betrayal of someone you loved so much, even though you wished you could just turn those feelings off. 

and despite all of these feelings inside of you, you’re surprised to learn that, in your impaired state, you’re not a sad drunk yet. you’ve been laughing and smiling and dancing, bouncing your attention between your study group friends and mingi who spotted a few guys from his classes.

which should’ve been the first indication that wooyoung was lingering around this bar. 

he spotted you a few times during the night but knew better than to go over, remembering the last time he saw you, he got a well-deserved red mark on his cheek. he also saw how mingi watched you, a soft fondness in his gaze that hurt him as much as it comforted him.

because he thought you’d be safe with him tonight. that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight or allow you to stumble off to the bathroom by yourself.

but when the several cups hit you all at once, an unpleasant pressure on your bladder, you told the group you were gonna go pee and walked off without any response. it was so fast, one minute laughing and dancing and hearing the pounding music in their ears and then the next realizing you weren’t there. 

“oh...my god, my hair,” you whined in the mirror as you washed your hands, brushing through the frizzy, knotty strands. 

“it looks bea-beautiful!” another tipsy girl smiles, stumbling over to you and holding herself up on the wall. “don’t be silly!”

a giggle bubbles out of your mouth as you look at her in shock, her three friends coming out and praising each other is a similar way. 

it’s an oddly intimate and sweet ten minutes in the girl’s bathroom but it keeps you smiling even on your way out, waving goodbye to them before you turn back around and bump into someone’s chest.

“oh, i’m sorry, i-”

“it’s okay, pretty,” a deep unfamiliar voice says, his voice far too brash and flirty for your liking. you look up to see glossed over eyes and a smirk covering his sweaty face, the faint scent of alcohol and b.o making you queasy. 

“how’re you doing tonight?” 

“i’m fine,” you say, every bit of you now sobered as you watch his predatory gaze. the bar is still pretty crowded but the bathrooms are dark and off to the side, something you hadn’t even noticed in your tipsy state. 

“you here with someone tonight?” the boy asks, eyebrow raised suggestively as he takes a step closer to you. 

you swallow nervously as you nod politely, a tight smile on your face when your heart starts to pound. something innate within you is scared, the dark vacant corner only making you more nervous when your back hits the wall behind you.

“you’re pretty. so i guess it’s a boyfriend, huh?” 

“yes,” you say shortly, wishing you could push him back or or yell or slap him the way you did wooyoung. “so if you’ll excuse me, he’s probably wondering where i-”

but before you can move around the boy, a clammy hand on your elbow pulls you back to the wall. you immediately feel your heart drop into your stomach, panic setting in as your eyes shoot up to the man’s face. 

you don’t like the look behind his beady, glossy eyes and if you can’t get away within the next few seconds, you’re probably gonna scream. 

“now hold up now,” he says playfully, the slur in his words and stale smell of beer on his breath only making this worse. “maybe i’m b-better than your boyfriend,” he hiccups in your face, breath wafting in your face and making it pinch together. 

“i don’t think so,” you hum under your breath, shaking your head as you pull your arm out of his grasp. “so please leave me alone now.”

but he doesn’t. 

“hey, hey, hey, wait,” he says, a crooked smile on his face as he blocks his bigger body with yours. “just give me a chance, yeah? let me buy you a drink?”

your eyes flare and fists clench at his persistence, the way he’s inching closer to you and not taking no for an answer really making you mad. making you ready to stomp on his foot and kick him between the legs.

“c’mon, your boyfriend doesn’t even know you’re gone,” he says, an attempt to sound sly and convincing only making your skin crawl even more. “he’s probably with some other chick. let me show that i’m much better than him, babe.” 

his hand reaches out to touch your shoulder, a clammy thumb running along your bare skin. “he doesn’t know how good he has it if he let a pretty little thing like you walk off alone.”

“i know how good i have it actually,” you hear a voice mutter, one that, up until this very moment, would’ve made you angry or sad; but now, you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful to hear him. 

you hear footsteps coming closer and each one fills you with relief, the thought that he’s about to kick the shit out of him the least of your concerns.

“so i suggest you take your fucking hand off her.”

your eyes meet the tight ones of wooyoung over the boy’s shoulder, his jaw clenched and gaze calculating as he debates ripping the guy off of you and shoving him against the wall or tugging you behind him.

he goes with both. 

taking you by the hand gently but firmly, your body bumping his as he puts you behind him. and then similar to how you were caged in, wooyoung does the same to the boy an inch or two taller than him; but it’s like neither are even aware of that. 

wooyoung’s body is stiff and rigid, the vein in his neck popping out as he stares down the guy. what freaks the creep out the most is, even by how pissed and dark this psycho is looking at him, his gaze looks...careless. like he wouldn’t even hesitate beating the shit out of him despite the way they’d be thrown out of here in three seconds.

“didn’t know you were real, dude,” the man stutters out, as if that is a good enough excuse to pin you against the wall and harass you. 

and wooyoung must find it absurd too, a scoff leaving his mouth as he cocks his head to the side.

“would it matter if i wasn’t?” he growls lowly, his body hot and angry as he takes his shirt in his hand. he wraps it around it to the point of choking the guy, his body thrashing underneath his hold. 

“get the f-fuck off me you psycho.”

“you don’t like it, do you?” wooyoung asks, a sinister smile on his face as he steps closer to the boy. “being caged in by a fucking lunatic? are you scared now?” 

your eyes widen at the dark tone in wooyoung’s voice, your quiet call of his name falling on deaf ears. he’s too focused on not beating the fuck out of the guy in front of him, his hand tightening as he decides to throw him into the corner of the wall.

you watch the man’s head smack off the wood trim and immediately screech, a chastising call of wooyoung’s name that has him grabbing your hand and heading for the exit. 

you’re about to object until you see he’s only bringing you outside the bar, sitting you down on a bench outside and welcoming the cold night air; it’s mid-november, only a week until thanksgiving break, and it’s unsurprisingly very bitter out. 

he helps you sit down before letting out a shaky sigh, his hands running through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down and not run back in to finish what he wants so desperately wants to. he’s pacing slightly and you’d be probably be scared if it was anyone else, watching his jaw tick and vein pop in his neck. 

“you’re jeaaalous,” you tease your boyfriend of three months, watching his eyes follow two boys who had talked to you after class; you’d become friendly with them the first day of classes, their bright smiles and funny remarks immediately making you feel comfortable with them.

“no,” he growls lowly, his hand wrapped around your waist the whole time you go to your locker. you bite down on your lip to hide your smile but it does nothing to keep your giggles at bay, your back pressed up against the cold metal as he looks over your face. 

you cock your head to the side and smile teasingly at him, your thumb soothing over the ticking vein in his neck. the feel of it under your skin makes you wince a little because it seems almost dangerous, like his head or neck is gonna explode. 

“no?” you repeat, cocking an eyebrow as he looks at you in disdain. “then what’s this?” 

his hand reaches out to grab yours, quickly interlacing your fingers as his other  rests next to your head on the cool metal. 

“nothing,” he responds dumbly, dipping his head and hiding the possessive flare in his eyes as his next words fan over your ear. “i just don’t like seeing someone with my girl.”

you shake your head of the memory and see wooyoung making his way over to you, the boy slowly kneeling in front of you as he meets your glossy gaze. 

“you okay?” 

you lick over your dry lips, a lump already forming in your throat at his closeness and the softness in his voice. you can tell by his eyes that he hasn’t had a stitch of alcohol tonight, everything about him looking so similar to the boy he was last year during this time. 

before things went to shit and before he started the double life you both still haven’t recovered from. 

you don’t know if you could get the words out if you tried so you can only nod, your cold hands in one another. it feels as if a little bit of everything about the past five minutes has sobered you, fear and comfort and the coldness that should be alerting you to get away from the boy looking at you the way he is. 

but you can’t seem to do that, lips pressing into one another when you feel that lump growing bigger and bigger. you think you stop breathing when he reaches up to cup your cheek, his warm palm on your face for only a few seconds before you let out a shaky breath.

you know this isn’t good. that you and him together alone right now isn’t good. months of telling yourself you hate him and that he should rot before seeing him before your eyes and knowing that a part of you still cares for him. 

“wooyoung,” you mumble warningly, that breaking feeling within your chest knowing you can’t have him touching you. 

his face falls at the same time as his hand, splayed out on your jean covered knee in a way that feels so foreign but familiar. his hands are smaller than mingi’s but there’s something about them that almost makes you feel more comforted, remembering the times like this he would hold you and make you feel better.

made you feel like no one would ever hurt you because he was there. 

“i’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice deep and full of genuine sorrow. 

but you don’t know what exactly he’s sorry for. for the drunken man, for him touching you, for what he did? you go with the first one, because you’re not ready for the conversation the other two need. 

“not your fault,” you hum quietly, trying to talk through the growing lump in your throat. “just a drunk asshole.”

“not about that,” he laughs out humorlessly, rising from his spot below you and sitting down next to you. he’s close enough to where you can feel the heat radiating off his body but your arms aren’t touching - just a few centimeters separate you. 

“i’m sorry about our last conversation. it...wasn’t fair of me to do that and say anything to you.”

you shiver as a biting gust of win blows past, your arms wrapping around yourself as you simply nod. you can’t really think of what to say. because you don’t wanna say it’s okay, it’s not, but he also seems genuinely apologetic. 

“i’m trying not to drink anymore,” he explains to you, not quite sure how to take your silence and choosing to fill it. you can hear some embarrassment laced in his voice, his eyes trained down on his dirty sneakers. “it’s...caused me nothing but problems.”

caused him to lose you and fuck up time and time again. misplace all of his priorities and transform him into a person who lost his happiness in the span of a few months. 

“i messed up that night obviously, though,” he chuckles out, not a trance of humor in his tone as he meets your gaze. usually it’d be him watching you be nervous but now he can feel the shift in dynamic. that even though you’re still uncomfortable and nervous too, you still have the upper hand.

you can decide right now if you’re gonna start this conversation or tell him to go fuck himself. 

“i’m sorry you had to witness that. i know it was really fucking shitty of me.”

“it was,” you agree quietly after a few silent seconds, wooyoung’s heart dropping in his stomach as he prepares to get his ass handed to him. “but i don’t know if that second slap was warranted.” 

that loud high chuckle you’d always complain was ear piercing bubbles out of his mouth and you can’t help but bite back a smile at hearing it, resisting the urge to giggle right along side with him.

“it definitely was. i was a dick.”

you only shrug your shoulders, something pulling in your chest the more you two sit down beside one another and actually talk. not curse or slur words at each other or put your hands on the other but actually have some sort of discussion. 

“it wasn’t right. what i did.” 

and then just as you were starting to feel good about all of this talking stuff, your heart falls in your stomach and you wanna run from away from this conversation. a part of you doesn’t wanna reopen these wounds but another part of you knows they were never really healed or closed. 

especially not after seeing him again. 

“i can’t even tell you why or what happened because i don’t even fucking know.   i missed you even though we saw each other and talked a lot but...she was just always fucking there. would never leave me alone and i was so stupid to not realize it.”

that’s something he always reflects back on, how you saw something the first day you met her but you both chopped it up to insecurities. 

“and then i think i just started to lie because i loved you. which doesn’t even make sense because you don’t lie to someone you love. but i was so selfish and desperate to keep you. i knew you’d leave me.”

“no shit, wooyoung,” you can’t help but say, the quiver in your voice one you can’t stop as you hear all of this from his mouth. “the first night when she kissed you drunk, you should’ve told me. the fact that you didn’t...makes me thing you knew it was gonna happen again. without alcohol.”

“i didn’t tell you because i thought you’d be mad. i know i would’ve been.”

“i don’t think you’d be mad if someone took advantage of me,” you confess quietly, something you now know was absolutely the case. “but truthfully, it wasn’t even that, woo. you lied right to my face when i asked you in my room that day.”

“we’re just friends,” he says and you bite the inside of your cheek so you don’t scream; you hadn’t said anything like that so why is he telling you that? “she only texted me for the schedule, love.”

you look up to meet his gaze and see a frown on his lips, his eyes trailing over every part of your face. 

“do you trust me?” he then asks suddenly, seeing all of the doubt and hesitation over your face. you immediately nod your head, feeling tears burn the back of your eyes at the idea of starting a fight.

“then why does it seem like you don’t?

“you made it seem like it was me. and that’s why i really tried to fucking hate you,” you confess, voice wavering and watery and you even hear how it sounds like you’re about to have a break down. “being with her was bad and me needing to see that was bad but you...lying like that was worse.”

he swallows the lump in his throat as tears sting his eyes, his jaw clenched and eyes on the concrete so tears don’t fall. 

“a part of me thinks i should hate you,” you say after a few silent moments, wondering if he’s even listening to your words anymore. “but i...” your voice breaks and the cold air stings your watery eyes, successfully (and thankfully) halting your words. 

and whether wooyoung noticed your shivering or saw your eyes, you feel him move beside you before his sweatshirt is placed around your shoulders. the scent of his cologne could make you burst into tears on the spot, the teakwood scent you loved so much further overwhelming you. 

“thanks,” you mumble quietly, his hummed response the only sound between you two for the next few moments. 

the muffled music and chatter from inside the bar could be heard from the street but it seems as if no one is out tonight. just you, wooyoung and the lingering silence that comes with sitting beside an ex who hurt you and an ex you’re still in love with. 

it just so happens that, for you, both of those are still the case. no matter how much you wanna deny it or pretend that’s not the case, him sitting beside you and giving you soft little smiles is making you weaker than you wished. 

you know you should get up and leave, tell him this isn’t a good idea and that you should go back inside to mingi and your friends. but it’s like your brain and your body are at a complete disconnect, welcoming the warm heat from his jacket and the strangely comfortable presence of him beside you. 

“i still love you.”

the wind blows by at the time he says that and, at first, you think you made it up. that your deluded mind is hearing things and you really are just far too vulnerable and upset right now. 

but the when you peak at him, you can tell by the look on his face he’s not sure if he said that either. actually confessed to you in such a way he knows is wrong and unfair but just couldn’t stop because to the core, he’s selfish when it comes to you. 

he always has been.

“i always will. i always did.” 

and when you feel yourself start to break, the tears burning at the back of your eyes coming to the surface, you feel the anger and spite finally leave your body and be replaced with a sad, pathetic version of it. 

“i don’t know how i’m supposed to believe that,” you whimper out quietly, your eyes roaming his face in a way that breaks his heart; your eyes look so sad and defeated, he just wants to pull you into him. “i don’t even know why you’re saying this to me right now, woo.”

but he knows it’s in the way you still call him that with ease, like you don’t even realize you’re saying it and it’s just completely natural, that that’s exactly why he’s saying it. 

that he wants you to see, even though he made a mistake, there’s still something to hold on to. 

“i miss you,” he tells you softly, his voice low in a way that makes you swallow the lump in your throat. “i really fucking miss you, y/n. and i love you.”

“you’re not being fair,” you whimper out, the tears brimming your eyes falling down your cheek as you look at him. that’s when it really hits him how much he hurt you, how much you avoiding him and blocking him out of your life was meant to shield you from this.

“that’s not fair at all, wooyoung. what am i supposed to do? just forget it? believe now that you love me? you said the same thing then.”

“and it was true then,” he says, his tone more desperate and tight. “it was a mistake, y/n. the first time and the times after that. they’re lousy excuses but i’m being honest.”

he reaches out to wipe your tears and you can’t find the energy to pull away, exhaling a shaky breath when his thumb wipes at your face. his touch is gentle and soft and makes this moment even more hard for you, the look on his face making your heart wrench in your chest. 

“please, baby. i know it’d be hard but if we could just-”

“don’t. please.”

you pull your face away and shake your head as you look at him, wiping your wet cheek with the back of your hand.

“you’re not about to honestly suggest we date again? are you out of your fucking mind?”

“no no no. not date,” he’s quick to clarify, his hands up in innocence. “if we could just be friends. friendly. not...avoid each other and argue every time we see each other.” 

he lifts his hands to your face again with a pout on his, swiping both thumbs under your eyes; you notice his own eyes are teary but don’t even wanna think about him crying in front of you.

it hurts you as much as it enrages you, remembering the last time he broke down in front of you. 

“i don’t want you to cry every time you see me,” he mumbles lowly, his gaze looking over your face with such affection you can’t bear to look at him anymore. 

“i don’t...i want...i...” 

“i’m never gonna trust anyone ever again. do you fucking realize that, wooyoung?” you cry, his voice ringing in your head from january, when now you know he had already been with her, asking why you didn’t trust him. “you were with her and turned it around on me and asked why i didn’t trust you.”

“i want you to trust me.”

but he says that like it’s easy. like you can just so easily forget everything and trust him blindly. like he didn’t do anything wrong.

“i don’t know, wooyoung.”

he sees the fear and apprehension flickering behind your eyes, a sigh leaving his mouth as guilt starts to wash over him. he shouldn’t be doing this right now. he shouldn’t be asking you to do this when he’s not even sure you’ve forgiven him yet. 

he shouldn’t be feeling this intense want and need to have you to himself again. 

you both hear the faint sound of the door swinging open but pay no mind to it, too lost in the intense gazes and buzzing air between you two. you know you shouldn’t be considering this just as much as he shouldn’t be asking but here you are, actually considering his words right now. 

“just...think about it?” he offers, eyes glinting with hope and affection that would usually soften you in a second. “i know it’ll take time but maybe we can just try?”

you lick over your cold, chapped looks as you look at him, every part of you knowing you should be saying a big fuck you and fuck no to him. 

“i’ll wait for you again,” he adds, a hint of teasing behind his words as he thinks about your first few months together. him sitting with you every day during lunch and you outright ignoring him for half of them. watching as your confused expressions and sneers slowly morphed into smiles and giggles. 

realizing that, he was right to think you guys were good for each other, because being with you was one of the easiest things in the world when he wasn’t being a fucking asshole. 

“you barely waited,” you grumbled lowly, remembering the events from high school a lot more along the lines of him buying you snacks, asking you to a different movie every weekend and not giving you a moment to yourself during lunch. 

“a whole two months actually,” he says, the amusement in his voice making a sad smile cross your face. he can tell it’s sad by the way it doesn’t meet your eyes and it makes his heart hurt just a little bit, his hand moving to yours so your cold fingertips brush. 

“i’ll wait as long as you need this time. and if you decide you don’t want to be friends...that’s fine, too. i’ll...accept it and never talk to you again.”

you hate the way your heart pangs with hurt at that idea, terrified and embarrassed by how fast things changed in three months. how three months, you never wanted to see him again and now the prospect of that is physically paining you.

but could you put yourself through this? should you put yourself through this? he could be lying again. he could just be-

“y/n?” 

mingi’s deep voice pulls you from your thoughts as you jump at the sound of him, your eyes meeting his confused, cautious gaze before quickly snatching your hand away from wooyoung; but it’s obvious he already saw how close you guys were, on top of the fact his sweatshirt is wrapped around your shoulders. 

“you okay?” mingi asks as he looks at you, his gaze shifting to wooyoung and hardening every so slightly. “why are you upsetting her? haven’t you done enough?” 

“mingi, it’s-”

“some drunk asshole was harassing her because someone let her walk off alone,” wooyoung says to the boy, standing from his spot next to you and walking over. it’s at that time your friends come out and their eyes light up upon seeing you, quickly rushing over and dabbing at your red, damp face. 

mingi and wooyoung continue to have a stare down as you’re bombarded by drunken coos and sticky hands, the taller boy watching you carefully before wooyoung clears his throat. 

“guy said she had a boyfriend but that’s not the case, is it?” wooyoung says, the shift in him to being conniving and mean at the way he sees the boy looking at you. “no matter how much your bitch ass wants it.”

“fuck you,” mingi spits out, “you don’t deserve to even speak to her after what you did.”

“you don’t deserve to give me advice after you tried to swoop in and steal her.” 

“she’s not something to steal, asshole. i’ve actually been there for her, wooyoung,” mingi says, his tone deep and gruff as he resists the urge to thrown him up against the wall. “watching her cry and get through the shit that you inflicted on her.”

the words effect him just as much as mingi wanted them too but he’d never let the boy know that, instead narrowing his eyes and shoving the boy backward. 

“our shit’s between me and her so maybe fuck off for once and leave her alone,” wooyoung says, popping his neck to the side as he watches mingi’s jaw tighten. “look like a pathetic little puppy following her around.”

“more pathetic than pining after someone you cheated on? you know you fucked up and now that she’s moving on, you’re pissed.” 

“who the fuck said she’s moving on you-”

“mingi, we’re gonna go.”

it’s your soft voice that breaks up their lowly growled conversation, wooyoung’s dark eyes changing as he turns back to look at you. you hold his gaze for a few seconds before meeting mingi and the boy can’t even lie in saying it hurts how much more comfortable you seem looking at him. 

wooyoung can barely hear mingi mumble his response, letting out a groan when the taller boy shoulder checks him and says “they’ll see him around.” the boy bites back a snarky comment as you meet his gaze again, flickers of hope and confusion and fear in your gaze. 

he can only assure you with a soft smile and hope that you really see he meant every word he said. 

“i couldn’t even tell if he meant it, you know,” you tell mingi on the walk home, wooyoung’s sweatshirt still hanging from your body. 

the walk from the bar to your dorm is only about twenty minutes, you and mingi’s hands bumping clumsily as you walk down the main road. 

“like he seems sorry and he just said we’ll be friends. but i can’t....actually trust him again. what he did was wrong and i can’t just forgive him.”

mingi’s been quiet during your rant for the past few minutes, only the occasional hum or nod assuring you he’s even been listening. but it’s when you crane your neck up to look at him you see his face is...unusual. 

expressionless, almost, in a way you never see on the usually happy and smiley boy. 

“mingi? are you okay?”

“hm? yeah, i’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head before his arms bumps into yours. 

your eyebrows pull together in suspicion, about to ask him if he’s even been listening before he beings to talk again. “do you actually feel that way, though? that what he did was wrong and that you can’t forgive? or do you just think you should feel that way?” 

“i-” 

the question strikes you more than you thought it would. because the answer seems obvious - you shouldn’t wanna forgive him. you should know what he did was wrong, know it in the way loyalty and trust is such a crucial part to relationships.

but forgiveness is where that line gets blurred for you. 

hearing him and seeing him look and sound apologetic was hard. thinking back on your relationship and remembering how good you guys were together was hard. trying to put yourself in his situation, although you’re not sure you would’ve been in it in the first place, was hard. 

and it’s not like he’s asking you to trust him and be his girlfriend again. 

you’re just gonna...slowly repair your relationship again, right? but when you utter that thought to mingi, his feet stop moving and he looks down at you with an unconvinced expression. 

“you say that, y/n, and i wanna believe you,” he says, his hand toying at your fingers as he tries to remain gentle and calm. “but...i don’t know. you guys looked...”

the softness and affection was obvious, the possession and love behind wooyoung’s eyes matching your soft but fearful gaze was eye opening. 

if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve seen a couple making up from a fight. a happy, loving couple who was able to get past a hardship in their relationship and would be able to thrive again. 

“what?”

“you guys looked like you were...together. i thought i interrupted something,” mingi says honestly, remembering how you jumped away and your hands and face followed. “kind of seemed like you guys were gonna kiss.”

“mingi, that’s definitely not-”

“and look, if that’s what you want, that’s fine. but, please, y/n. you have to be careful. you can’t forget how much he hurt you and really have to consider if he’s being-”

and maybe it’s because you just wanted him to stop talking about it. or because your mind is muddled and confused and still swirling with the effects of alcohol and the tension with wooyoung. or because, underneath all of this drama, a part of you also has come to like mingi.

or at least, the comfort and feelings of affection and desire he gave you. he’s been there for you since the beginning and after a few months, you always thought this moment was gonna happen. you just didn’t know when. 

you didn’t know when one of you was gonna grow the balls to kiss and see what happens after that. 

it takes him a few seconds to respond before you feel him kiss you back, lips parted and his hand in yours moving to your hips. he pulls you against him the more you kiss, like you’re pouring every emotion you’ve experienced tonight into him while he’s pouring every emotion he’s held back for months. 

he just doesn’t know that at the time. 

he just knows that you pull back and smile at him in such a pretty way, a blush on your cheeks and glint in your eye as you tell him you really are only considering a friendship with wooyoung. 

but you go home that night not thinking about the kiss or mingi’s sleeping body beside you. you go home thinking about how nice it feels to be wrapped in wooyoung’s familiar scent and jacket.

almost like, when you close your eyes, you can pretend the body next to you is his. 

truthfully, you didn’t know how that kiss was gonna effect the dynamic between you and mingi. you didn’t know if things were gonna be awkward or different or if now all of the expectations changed. 

but even that night when he dropped you off, and stayed for a sleepover which was not unusual, you curled up in bed with a bag of chips and your laptop as you each shared a headphone.

and nothing felt different.

you two just went along with your usual relationship, not even mentioning the kiss until it became something that happened a day ago. then a week ago, then two weeks ago, then over a month ago, until it kind of seemed like something you guys were never gonna talk about. 

but school and work kept you both busy anyway, the last few days before christmas break full of studying for finals, finishing projects and dealing with the holiday rush of customers stocking up on sugary desserts and espresso shots.

among those customers in the coffee shop was wooyoung, the boy coming in three times a week for his usual order of black coffee and a chipotle chicken club. 

at first, you could tell the remnants of your conversation outside the bar were lingering. you were both apprehensive, his eyes guarded and voice overly polite every time he ordered or thanked you. 

you kept up your professional attitude but still felt that familiar feeling of nervousness bubbling in your stomach, torn between giving him another chance as a friend or saving yourself the possibility of getting hurt again.

but it was in the little things he did over the weeks of him coming in that eventually wore you down. 

when a particularly unpleasant customer gave you shit, he was quick to jump in like a ‘good samaritan,’ share a not-so-nice few words that had you biting back a smile and instead telling him it was okay. 

he always ordered two drinks by accident, his black coffee and an iced coffee that would sit on his table for a few minutes before he came back over to you and your coworkers claiming he didn’t need it anymore. 

but he knew it was your favorite drink and he could tell you needed a pick me up, working well into the evening until the sky fell dark and streets grew empty. 

which brought him to his current predicament, the last person in the coffee shop while you closed up alone on the not so decent side of town; he noticed you closed alone on thursdays and it never sat right with him, watching it happen for two weeks before deciding he wasn’t gonna allow it anymore. 

“hey, we close in about ten minutes. can i get you anything else?” he hears you ask, his head snapping up from his phone. there’s a rag in your hand and a small, polite smile on your face, looking him over warily.

“oh nah, i’m good,” he says, a shake of his head and a small laugh leaving his mouth. you purse your lips to the side and nod unconvinced, going back to the counter to finish cleaning. 

you let out a small sigh when you realize you forgot to text your roommate to come pick you up, your car in the shop and god knows how much money down in your back account. but before you can even get to her contact, you hear wooyoung coming your way. 

“thanks again, y/n, ” he says, gesturing to his empty cup of coffee in hand. 

“you’re welcome! have a nice night, wooyoung,” you smile politely. 

you think that maybe saying his name over and over will remind you of what he’s done to you, halt the stupid butterflies in your stomach that erupt every time you see him enter the coffee shop or catch him looking at you.

he smiles but doesn’t respond, only looks you over before looking out the window and then back at you.

“so, how’re you getting home?” 

you press your lips together as you now realize why he’s been lingering tonight, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him; he must’ve noticed your car not in the parking lot before.

“i was wondering why you were lingering,” you mumble, a chuckle leaving his mouth that makes a small, uncontrollable smile pull at your lips.

“knew you were on to me,” he quips playfully, winking as he goes over to the garbage and throws out his cup. “lemme drive you home.”

“i was gonna call my roommate to get me, it’s okay,” you insist, wiping out your phone again and scrolling to her name. you hear his footsteps approach you again, his hand reaching out slowly before gently falling onto your arm.

and even though you heard him, you still jump at the contact, what feels like an electric shock zipping through your skin you know is all in your head. 

“c’mon, y/n, that’s not necessary. i’m here,” he whines slightly, eyes pleading and soft with a smile you’re trying so hard to resist. you lick over your dry lips and narrow your eyes slightly, letting out a sigh when you can tell he’s not letting up.

and it’s late. it’s so late and you’re tired and still have two papers to finish and edit tonight. you might as well, right?

“fine.” 

he smiles happily before guiding you to the front door, watching you lock up before you silently walk to his car. he opens the passenger-side door and you give him a strange look, never having seen him do that before, before thanking him. 

the car ride is quiet and awkward and cold for the first few minutes, you softly giving him directions before he turns on the heat and you sigh in relief. he side-eyes you as you put your hands to the vent, relishing in the hot air on your cold skin and he can’t help but smile at the sight.

“hands are still like icicles, i see.”

you look over and see the smirk on his face, probably remembering how when things were different, you’d warm your hands up on his skin despite his screams. sneak your hands under his shirt when you’d star gaze at night or hold onto his arm and giggle as he begged you to take them off him but never made any move to get them off. 

“always,” you say shortly, a slightly strained but breathy giggle leaving your mouth that makes his heart pull in his chest. 

the quiet hum of the car surrounds you both for the next few moments, an unspoken tenseness in the car from the reminder that, last time you were alone, he said he still loved you and you had a breakdown. he begged to be friends again and you left him without an answer. 

an answer that’s now lingering between you two, trying to decide if this is gonna be something that’s able to be repaired in some way or you’re both gonna let the fond memories and old feelings die out.

you can’t even lie and say you weren’t going back and forth about it some nights, when your bed seemed too cold and memories were playing and, for some reason, your thoughts of mingi weren’t enough. 

but you were terrified. every part of you was terrified to open this relationship back up just to possibly be hurt again. put your time and effort into him and make more memories that could potentially be tainted again. 

you suppose that’s a risk with any relationship though, because mingi hurt you too and look at you two now; you don’t think your friendship with him has ever been stronger. 

you let out a sigh as you wrack your brain, so lost in thought and the building ache in your temples that you’re barely able to hear wooyoung call your name. 

“y/n?” he repeats, smiling softly when you look over at him in a daze and hum lowly. 

“you good?”

“y-yeah,” you stutter, cheeks flushing a warm pink that wooyoung’s always sworn is the cutest thing about you. even more cute than when you stutter over your words or lick over your lips when you’re lost in thought.

“i...i was just thinking...” you continue a few moments later, your heart saying fuck it because your brain seemed to have lost this battle a while ago.

“about?” wooyoung prods gently, looking over at you as he stops at a red light; he can see your apprehensive, your quietness and shifting eyes one of the telltale signs. 

“about...what we talked about the other night,” you say, peering over to see him watching you patiently, softly, so much like the way he’d watch you in the beginning. 

“about trying to be friends.”

his eyebrow raises and he can feel a lump already forming in his throat, the smile he puts on his face one to disguise how fucking nervous he just became. because he was serious, no matter how selfish he’s realizing he is, if you tell him you don’t wanna be friends, he’s gonna respect that.

no matter how much it’ll pain him. 

“and?” he asks, tightening his hand on the steering wheel when his eyes fall to your lips; watching as your tongue swipes over them before meeting his gaze again. 

the look in his eyes makes more butterflies erupt in your stomach, a soft intensity that momentarily makes you forget everything he’s done; it also might be responsible for the next words that leave your mouth.

“i...think we can try.”

and you didn’t know it at the time but that was that sentence that sealed your fate for the next two months, mirroring the happy smile wooyoung throws your way as your heart lurches in your chest.

his hand twitches to take yours in his but he knows that’d be absolutely inappropriate so he only grips the steering wheel tighter, thanking you softly and promising that he’s not gonna fuck this up. 

and for the next week, he doesn’t; you two fall into a schedule you would’ve never anticipated at the beginning of the school year. 

he comes in a few hours before your shift ends, studies for finals with cups of coffee and desserts until he’s the last one in the building with you. he helps you clean and close up, his signature high-pitched laugh echoing through the empty walls when you smack him with a rag or yell at him for trying to steal another cookie. 

he brings you home every night, your finger tips colliding as you warm your hands with the vents and smile shyly when the sensation from your skin meeting zips through you. 

it’s a dark and clear night tonight, what seems like darker than any other december night, and there’s hundreds of stars in the sky. it’s something you both notice but don’t have the hearts to comment on, both of you catching the other peeking out the window or admiring the sight above you at a red light. 

you bite down on your lip when he catches you, a blush creeping up on your face before you stutter out a question. the first one that comes to mind.

“you excited to be going back home?” 

the smirk on his face is so obviously teasing but you don’t have the stomach to be snippy right now, grateful when he decides to play it nice tonight and answer without calling you out. 

“how ‘bout you? your parents must be so happy.”

“they are. not happy that i’ll be using their car all break but i think they’re still happy,” you giggle out, wooyoung looking over at you an eyebrow raised.

“it’s still fucked?”

“yeah,” you sigh out with a shrug. “it’s okay though, it’ll definitely be fixed by the time i’m back for the spring.”

“that’s true but then how are you getting home tomorrow?” 

and that’s how you ended up driving home for christmas break with wooyoung, his pleas, your apprehension, your parents confusion and mingi’s utter disapproval making the trip a very questionable one. 

but it had made sense, you guess, saving your parents an hour drive to a destination wooyoung would be going to anyway. 

“y/n, are you sure you’re okay with this?” mingi had asked, sitting atop your bed as you folded your clothes into a suitcase. you noticed the way the smile fell from his face when you told him, your stomach twisting as something that strangely felt like guilt began to surface. 

but you shook it off and smiled softly at the boy, insisting that an hour with him would be okay. 

“he’s been coming to work and driving me home every night this week, mingi, and i haven’t had a breakdown yet. it’ll be fine.”

the boy doesn’t find your comment assuring in the slightest, narrowing his eyes at you and feeling something pull in his chest. he doesn’t think you’ve realized how much you’ve drifted this week, small things that maybe he’s being too sensitive about or thinking too much into it. 

but he’s wondering why you never asked him for a ride. or why the texts you’d usually send him about rude customers or funny co-workers have dwindled this week. he’s wondering why, for some god forsaken reason, your eyes are brighter and there’s a look on your face that just seems happier. 

ignorance is bliss though and that’s why mingi just nods his head at you and opens his arms, smiling into your hair when you agree to take a quick 30-minute break for an episode that turns into almost three hours of cuddling and giggling.

“that’s not what happened at all!” you squeal, hitting wooyoung in the arm as he incorrectly recounts meeting your parents for the first time. 

“there’s no way i did that!” he says, his lips quirked up and a laugh bubbling in his chest.

“you literally did! i almost died, that’s how i remember so well,” you screech, never forgetting that the first time you introduced a boy to your parents over dinner, he patted his lap and told you to take a seat. 

wooyoung bursts out laughing the same way he did then, your mom looking at you two half in amusement and half in shock while your dad didn’t miss a beat and patted his lap for his wife in return; you were both pink in the face and smacked their arms playfully. 

“your dad always liked me, i never understood why and now i certainly don’t.” 

you bite down on your lip to control your growing smile, the two of you sharing memories the whole ride down. 

it’s probably the worst thing to do at a time like this, where you’re both back in familiar settings, with a hundred different reminders and memories of one another. where you now only have each other and an old group of mutual friends with way too much free time you don’t know what to do with. 

“you were funny i guess,” you tease lightly, a small giggle leaving your mouth when he side eyes you with mock annoyance. “remember when you got him the toilet golf for christmas?” 

wooyoung throws his head back in laughter again and you both giggle and squeal for him to keep his eyes on the road, hitting him in the arm playfully as you tell him it’s still in his bathroom to this day.

“he’s probably real good now, too,” wooyoung says with a wink, the roll of your eyes making him bite back a smile of his own. “what’re you guys doing for christmas this year?” 

you share holiday plans for the remainder of the car ride, telling him that you’ll be going to your aunt’s a few hours away from christmas to new years day. there’s only about five minutes left until you’re home when wooyoung’s next words stir you into shock.

“maybe we could hang out when you’re back. go ice skating or something.”

you press your lips together as you look at him, his face relaxed and eyes on the road like the suggestion had been the easiest thing in the world. you don’t know that, internally, he was kind of freaking out. hoping he didn’t just back track all the progress you guys have made, just within this car ride even. 

ice skating was something you guys did last year together, your hand in his before you promptly fell on your ass but he saved you every time. you were still newly dating and it was all very sweet and pure, cheek kisses and awkward fumbling which were the telltale signs that you were a new couple in the honeymoon phase. 

“i....” 

the words seem caught in your throat, knowing you wanna say yes because friends ice skate. friend hang out like that, this shouldn’t be a new concept to you. 

he can sense your apprehension and quickly meets your gaze, his face falling before he’s quickly shaking his head. 

“only if you want to,” he smiles softly, an uncharacteristic shyness on his face and in his voice. “if you’re bored and got nothing else to do, ya know.” 

not because he desperately wants to be with you during this break. not because hanging out with you this past week has been the happiest he’s felt since almost exactly a year ago. 

“no, yeah, sure. that’d be nice,” you eventually stutter out, a smile breaking out across wooyoung’s face that calms all the anxiety and tension in your body. you can feel this attachment is wrong and unhealthy but it’s like you have no control over it anymore, blinded by him and the memories and the way he makes you feel. 

the way you watch his car drive off after he walks you to the door, already buzzing with excitement for your...friendly outing with wooyoung in the next few weeks. 

the holidays pass as quickly as they came and soon enough, you’re running around your room picking the finishing touches on your outfit as wooyoung is set to arrive in a few minutes. he had called you this morning after he woke up, telling you to dress warm and that he’d see you later tonight at six. 

you hear your door bell ring and your eyes widen, moving to the clock to see he’s, surprisingly, five minutes early. you deem your matching boots and jacket good enough, running down the stairs and to the door. 

you’re only faintly aware of the fact you can’t see his head through the top glass window the way you saw mingi’s when he came to your house last winter, shaking the memory from your head and smiling when you see wooyoung standing there with a cup of hot chocolate.

“hey b...y/n,” he smiles, his heart pulling in his chest so much he almost slipped up and forgot you’re only friends. but you just look so pretty and this feels a lot like a date, his stomach twisting and heart pounding in such a foreign way; he hasn’t been on a date since...

“hi! thank you, woo,” you smile softly, taking the cup from his hand and ushering him inside quickly. “just gotta find my keys. my parents are still at my aunts.”

“was hoping to see your dad, ask him about his golfing skills,” wooyoung teases, not coming to terms with the true anxiety and shame he feels knowing the older man definitely knows what he did to his daughter.

but if he does, you don’t make any indication of it; only smile at him and nod your head toward the couch, telling him you’ll be ready in a few minutes. he goes into the living room and smiles upon seeing your christmas tree light up with white lights and homemade ornaments. 

your house smells of vanilla and the fireplace is crackling, a perfect warm contrast to the cold, biting weather outside. he plops down and watches the fire crackle, the heat warming his face and making him lean back with his eyes closed. 

the warmth of the fire makes him melt further into the couch, sinking back into the comfortable couch until it almost feels like he could fall asleep.

you walk back in a few moments later and see the sight before you, your eyes widening and heart lurching because fuck. he has no right looking like that, sprawled out handsome and relaxed on your couch with the soft fire glowing on his face. 

your eyes rack down his body quickly, his eyes closed and legs spread, head tipped back against the couch in a way that looks like he... you have to shake your head out of the daze, your own cheeks flushing because you feel like an absolute gawking pervert right now.

even though you’re painfully aware of how long it’s been since you last...

you shake your head again and make you way over, his eye peeking open upon hearing your footsteps, your pink cheeks and wet lips making him swallow and twitch in his seat; you look so fucking pretty tonight.

“hey,” he smiles, voice gruff and low as he looks you over. “you look nice.”

“you too,” you smile softly, your eyes moving from him to the roaring fire. “do you like it?” 

but his eyes are still on you, roaming your body in a way that has his cock straining in his pants. he’s missed you and fuck has he missed those parts of you, too. he can see something behind your eyes but he’s not sure if it’s just his own lust creeping up on him, a hunger that he never thought he’d see again from you.

“like what?” 

his voice is deep and gruff and sounds so rough, you have to stop the shudder from going through you. you can only swallow the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the sensation ripping between your legs as you look at him watching you. 

with eyes so dark and lustful you can only hope that your own desire isn’t imagining it, staring back at him as you lick at your dry lips and remind yourself to breathe.

“th-the fire,” you say nodding your head toward the flames he was entranced by before. “do you like it?” 

“oh,” he laughs out, the lump in his throat and growing arousal far too much right now. “yeah, i do. it’s nice.” 

you nod your head as you look down and play with your fingers, bag hanging from your shoulder as you watch him from the middle of the room. the air is thick and the room feels 100 degrees, your heart pounding in your ears as you hear the whipping wind outside. 

that’s where you guys should go right now. in the cold. around people. not alone in a hot space that’s only getting more and more tense.

“i...should we go or?” 

he looks from you to the window to the fire and then back to you, a small pout on his face as he leans himself back on the couch. “five more minutes? it’s so fucking cold out and this is nice.”

you almost wanna say no because the tension is too thick right now but you also don’t know if you could move if you tried, nodding your head as a quiet “sure,” leaves your mouth. 

the room is silent and you’re looking at him while he’s watching you, the need to swallow becoming more and more prevalent before you cock your head to the side. 

“is it really cold out? should i wear something heavier?” 

you know you don’t have to. this is your heaviest winter jacket, you just need to say fucking anything before you do something you might regret. or not regret at all, anything to feel relief and remember the way his lips feel against yours. 

“no, that should be fine,” he says, smiling as he looks over your outfit and face again. “you look good. really good.”

a shy smile crosses your face and you feel a blush creep up on your face, looking down at your boots that may or may not be new. 

“thanks. so do you,” you say softly, meeting his gaze and biting down on your lip when he smiles teasingly at you.

“is that why you’re all the way over there?” 

your eyes narrow and breath hitches and you almost think he knows how much he’s effecting you right now. how long it’s been since you’ve had any sort of contact with another person that wasn’t completely platonic or pure. 

“shut up,” you mumble, taking a few small steps toward the couch but still keeping your distance. he raises an eyebrow almost challengingly and that’s when you feel yourself growing more suspicious, cocking your head to the side as you blatantly look him over.

you watch him roll his tongue over his lips before looking into the fire place, that familiar tick in his jaw and neck making you smirk before feigning innocence again. 

“you really like that, don’t you?”

his eyes raise to you, not a trance of teasing or amusement on his face as he look at you. it’s all dark and lustful and you don’t know where this is all coming from but it’s creeping up on you fast. 

“the fire, i mean,” you add, nodding your head toward the furnace again. 

his eyes narrow and jaw clenches, your teeth sinking into your lip to stop the smirk from creeping back up on your face; but it must not help completely because you watch a different sort of look cover wooyoung’s face.

one you haven’t seen in a long time.

“a lot of smart ass remarks for someone who’s standing across the room,” he bites back, eyes widening and cock twitching when you shrug your shoulders and are suddenly standing right in front of the couch. 

you can only look down at him with a small smirk on your face, eyebrow’s raised as if to say now what are you gonna say? but you should know by now that wooyoung is almost never speechless or action-less, spreading his legs out on the couch just a little bit more before a teasing smile crosses his face. 

he repeats the actions he did that first day meeting your parents, tapping his lap  again as he licks over his lips and tells you your seat is still here. he knows it’s a risk and so do you but it doesn’t stop you from looking over his body, everything in you screaming that if you do this, there’s no going back. 

you’re gonna be back to where you were months ago, caught in a cycle of worry and fear and all-consuming emotions, something dangerous and draining when a person like him knows they have power over you.

but right now, after the past three months of going back and forth with him and sorting through your emotions, you just wanna forget everything. turn your brain off for a second and do something, anything, that’s gonna make you feel something other than sadness and anger and confusion. 

“come here.”

the command is gruff and deep and makes your lower stomach swoop, your fingers falling to zip off your jacket before your bag lands on the floor with a plop and you’re straddling your cheater of an ex-boyfriend right on your living room couch.

your lips collide and he groans at the same time you moan into his mouth, a mess of open-mouthed kisses and tongues that feel so pent up and natural, it’s like neither of your brains are on. 

when you move against him and feel his hard cock under you, it only spurs you on to do it more. press your body into him and wrack your fingers through his hair. 

he growls into your mouth and places his hands on your hips, his finger tips digging into your shirt as he disconnects your lips for air and travels down your neck. 

his kisses are wet and sloppy but you throw your head back anyway, every part of your body burning and begging and aching to be touched by him. and it’s like he knows it, he still knows every part of your body better than you or anyone else in the world, sucking a hickie into your neck as his hands cup your ass. 

“jesus christ, y/n,” he growls into your skin, your eagerness and closeness and warm body against his making all the blood go right to his cock. you can feel it pressing harder against you and let out a whine, pulling his face away from your neck so you can crash your lips against his again. 

it’s a flurry of kissing and sucking and biting, your own hands ripping your shirt over your head before wooyoung’s face is in your chest and sucking hickies onto your skin. you lean your head back and let out a whine, your hand tightening in his hair before you push him back and pull at the bottom of his shirt. 

he can only smirk at the pout on your face, pulling you into him and placing a kiss on your cheek. “still so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” he hums lowly, waiting until you nod for him to pull his shirt off and place a smack on your ass. 

it echoes through your empty house and you let out a whine, pushing yourself against him before he takes your face in his hand.

“and you’ve only been good for me still, right?” he asks lowly, his voice deep and possessive in a way you’ve never heard before. it sends butterflies right through your stomach and in between your legs, wetness pooling in your underwear as he tightens his hold on you. “no one else has fucked you, right?”

and you know that should be the tipping point. 

you know you should rip yourself away from him and slap him again, ask him why the fuck that matters when you know for a fact he’s been with someone else too. he’s been with someone while lying to you and acting as if everything was okay. that you were never indebted to him after the breakup and you still aren’t now. 

but instead, you shake your head and look at him all wide-eyed and glossy, your breathy “only you have fucked me,” making him growl before flipping you over and ridding you from the rest of your clothes. 

he falls to his knees before pulling to the edge of the couch and devouring your dripping pussy, his tongue lapping at you in a way that makes you scream out and push yourself against him. your stomach is tightening and legs are shaking and you can’t stop the moans that are leaving your mouth, repeating his name like a mantra as he slips a finger in.

“oh god, baby,” he growls against your wetness, your hole so tight around his finger he can’t wait to be buried inside of you. 

“let- let me ride you,” you beg despite the way you’re still pushing yourself on his face. it’s a pleasure you don’t ever want to stop but you also wanna feel him inside you, missing so desperately what it feels like to be full of his cock. 

“ah, ah, you gotta come on my tongue first,” he demands lowly, curling his finger inside of you and making you cry out. “you’ve been such a good girl for me. don’t get bad now.”

“b-but i wanna-”

he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream out, legs shaking and hips bucking into his face before your orgasm hits and you’re shaking against the couch. 

you barely have time to catch your breath before he lifts you up and pulls you on top of him, guiding you over his cock before you sink down on him and you  both moan out at the same time. 

“oh my god,” you whine out at the same time he grunts “fuck,” your movements slow and easy as you adjust to his size in you. but once the slight sting has dulled and he feels you relax slightly, he pulls your face to his and connects your lips. 

“now ride me, baby. i know you’ve missed sitting on my cock, haven’t you?” 

with your hands gripping the back of the couch, you nod as you start to lift your hips up and down, leaning forward every so slightly so you can feel something against your already stimulated clit. 

“answer me. who’s are you? who’s cock have you missed sitting on?”

“y-you, wooyoung. you. i’ve- i’ve missed your cock,” you whine, your hips moving more frantically the more you bounce up and down on him. your breaths are labored and the room feels at least 30 degrees hotter, his grunts and groans and your high-pitched yelps filling the festive living room. 

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this tight pussy again,” he growls out, when he feels himself getting close and needs you to come again before he can release inside of you. “i...you’re mine, baby. you fucking get that now, don’t you? you’re mine. and you’ll always be mine.”

“yes,” you whine out, frantically moving against him before moaning out when he starts fucking up into you. “yes, yes, yes. yours, wooyoung. p-please come, let me come, i wanna feel you-”

his last final grunt cuts you off and you feel your own orgasm take over, both of you riding out your highs and moaning each other’s names over and over until your ears are ringing and hearts are pounding in your chests. 

you’re faintly aware of his hand rubbing up and down your back, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your head before he pulls out of you and lays on the couch.you close your eyes and let out a tiny whine at his exit, a small smile lingering on wooyoung’s face as he grabs a baby wipe from the bathroom to clean between your legs.

you smile lazily at him when you see him between your legs, cheeky fuck he is placing a teasing kiss between on your clit as he walks away laughing at your squeal. 

he collapses on top of you when he’s back, holding himself up so he doesn’t crush you completely and places another kiss on your neck. he peppers them down your skin and you can only smile, still on the high of your orgasm and feeling loved that you can’t register all the other emotions fighting to break through.

fear and confusion and maybe even slight panic, realizing you just gave in and fucked the life out of the ex-boyfriend you know you’re supposed to hate. 

the doorbell ringing is the first thing that brings you back to reality a few minutes later, jumping up and nearly smacking wooyoung in the head had he not also lifted his head. his eyes are wide but not as bad as you, a smirk on his face as he asks if you’re expecting company.

“i don’t think so?” you say, pulling on your jeans before you start to frantically search for your shirt. wooyoung’s quick to throw you his, a knowing smile on your face because you remember how much he loved to see you in his clothes after you guys had sex. 

and that hasn’t seemed to change. 

“it’s definitely not my parents, they’d just use their key,” you assure him, attempting to fix your messy sexy hair that wooyoung’s always thought was the sexiest shit. “i’ll be right back.”

as you walk through the kitchen and peer out the front door, it feels like time stops when you see a familiar head of hair through the window. it’s like an exact parallel of the day mingi came to see you when you guys made up, except you hadn’t just fucked wooyoung on your couch. 

and sure enough when you open the door, there mingi is with a handful of flowers and a large cup of tea in hand. 

“hey! sorry i’m late, i can’t believe how much-”

his face drops the moment he takes in your appearance, messy hair, flushed pink cheeks, hickies on your neck, and an inside-out t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination of what you just got done doing. 

“traffic there was,” mingi finishes quietly, staring back at your surprised, shocked face in a way that makes his heart drop in his chest - you didn’t remember. 

“i...hi,” is all you dumbly say, the high from before quickly vanishing as you stare at mingi who’s looking more broken-hearted and confused by the second. it’s already making you wanna cry, his usually starry eyes dim and confused as he looks you over. 

“did...you forget i was coming?” he laughs out, humor in his tone that sounds so horribly masked you have to hold back tears. 

“happy new year, y/n! let’s hope this year brings us-”

your aunts words are cut off by blaring of your phone, mingi’s name popping up on your screen making a smile break out across your face; you’re not surprised he’s the first one calling to welcome you into the new year. 

“you should get that,” your aunt smirks, a blush on your cheeks as you shake your head and tell her it’s not like that. 

but she thinks the smile on your face says otherwise, the giggles and laughs and the way you throw your head back as you talk to the person on the other end of the phone. 

“i should be back in two days, you can come see me then drama queen,” you smile into the phone, mingi’s whiney complaints that he misses you so much, he doesn’t think he remembers what you even look like. “i’ll be home around six, i expect you there with flowers and a hot beverage.”

“oh my god.”

guilt like you’ve never experienced rushes through you all at once, face pale and mouth open as tears build up behind your eyes. mingi can see them building and already knows what’s happening, a lump forming so tight in his throat he can only shake his head.

“it’s okay, y/n.”

because he saw the car across the street; he thought, maybe, it was a coincidence - ignorance is bliss, after all, but he knew your reaction was gonna be the only thing he needed to see. and the tears in your eyes makes it pretty obvious what’s going on right now.

“wait. no mingi, it’s not. please. just let me-”

“no, it’s okay, really. i- i should’ve told you i was still coming. how were you supposed to know?” 

“we talked two days ago. i- i remember talking and planning it, i just...”

wooyoung called me, too. wooyoung called me and asked to go ice skating and   it was like after that, everything else was gone from your memory. you were so consumed by that you forgot you were supposed to-

“it’s okay,” he assures again, a small sad smile on his face as he holds out the flowers and drinks. “consider it a special delivery.”

and when you don’t take it, just continue to stare blankly at him, he places the drink and flowers on the steps and turns around wordlessly. because he’s not about to break down and have this conversation with wooyoung in the house, have you explain yourself when he obviously misunderstood things here. 

he’s just about to his car door when he hears your footsteps running after him, his eyes closing tight to fight off the few small tears building in his eyes. 

“mingi, wait. please wait, i-”

“it’s fine, y/n. i...i was stupid,” he laughs out humorlessly, turning around and looking over your already tear-stained face. “i misunderstood and that’s okay. i...we never officially said we were doing hanging out and i-”

“you didn’t misunderstand anything,” you’re quick to tell him, your mind completely clear as you take in mingi’s dejected face; you know you’re both not only talking about tonight’s plans.

you’re talking about the past ten months together. the friendship you built and the lingering touches and smiles. the way you made each other feel so safe and content and at ease. the way you only ever really smiled and laughed around one another.

his face looks familiar now though. his entire demeanor looks familiar, except you think you recognize more because you remember feeling like you looked a lot like that last winter. like you saw something you shouldn’t have and felt hurt in a way no one’s hurt you before. 

and you think those might’ve been the wrong words to say because within the next few silent seconds, mingi’s face morphs from devastation to the smallest hint of anger you’ve ever seen from him.

“don’t say that.”

tears fall from your eyes and you feel like you can’t breathe, watching him grip the handle of his door like he’s dying to get the fuck in his car and away from your house. 

“if...if i didn’t misunderstand anything, y/n, then i... this...” mingi shakes his head because he can’t even fathom this whole situation right now. but he knew from the beginning your relationship was very up in the air, the two of you never officially claiming to be anything. 

“we never talked about anything. our feelings or the kiss, so i did misunderstand things,” mingi confirms again, because this rationalization is easier. not feeling the need to hate you and yell at you and ask what the fuck you were thinking is easier. 

“i thought you were just...you know, figuring it out still so i didn’t wanna pressure you. but maybe that was wrong, maybe you just never wanted-”

“mingi, please. no. i know this looks bad but we can-”

“y/n?” 

wooyoung’s voice makes you both freeze, you keeping your gaze on mingi while his goes to the boy at the door. you can’t see the challenging look in wooyoung’s eyes or the smug look on his face, mingi’s hand tightening on the door as he tells you he’s leaving now.

“what?” you cry out, eyes wide and watery as you shake your head frantically. 

you know you’re being unfair and you know this is over but you can’t help but hold onto just for a second longer, your heart pulling so horribly in your chest, you’re not sure you’ve felt pain like this before.

“i’m leaving, y/n. get away from my car, okay?”

he keeps his voice soft and sweet and quiet, begging you to just go back to wooyoung as he keeps his eyes trained away from the boy. because he knows if he looks at him again, he’s gonna run over and beat the shit out of him.

“mingi, please, i didn’t-”

“it doesn’t matter anymore,” mingi says coldly, voice a bit harsher and louder. “just get away from my car.” 

“i know it looks bad but please, mingi, please, i didn’t mean to-”

“get the fuck away from me.”

your face falls and lower lip quivers, mingi’s face crumbling before he runs his hand over his face. he takes a few deep, calming breaths before his large hand cups your face, daring wooyoung to come over and say something right now, as his thumb runs over your cold skin and wipes at the wetness. 

“i’m sorry. i just...i have to go.”

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” you blurt out, knowing and seeing clear as day that’s what happened. “i didn’t know... we never said...i...” 

you don’t know what to say but you know this all feels very fucking wrong. you know that you feel like you messed up one of the best friendships and relationships you’ve ever had, the pulling feeling deep within your gut making you wanna vomit.

“i know, y/n, it’s okay,” he assures gently, his hand falling from your face and making you feel ten degrees colder. “i just gotta go, okay? please.”

your face crumbles as you find that you can’t look away from him, only backing away when he’s able to open the door and wedge himself in. 

he turns on his car and puts it drive before he can even put his seatbelt on, his eyes never leaving yours until he’s taking off down the block and suddenly the neighborhood is quiet. 

you hear footsteps making their way up behind you but can’t move from your spot, staring at the spot his car just occupied before arms wrap around your body.

you can feel now that they’re far too cold and far too short and feel far too wrong. how could you have not felt this before? known that this just didn’t feel right?

“wooyoung’s my friend but so are... so were you.”

you watch mingi’s fingers rest on the couch cushion next to you as you let out a small, shaky breath, something about his words causing you to look up and narrow your eyes.

“were?”

a pink, dare you say, nervous, blush crosses his face that causes you to hold back a laugh, his eyes wide as he shakes his head quickly.

“are. you are my friend,” he clarifies quickly, unsure eyes still roaming you. “i just...wasn’t sure if you still wanted to be.”

his stammered words coupled in with his pink cheeks and dark, wind-blown hair have a small smile stretching across your face, a sigh leaving your mouth as you shake your head at him and shrug.

“well, i guess i can’t lose you too, huh?”

“i’m happy you’re mine again,” wooyoung whispers in your ear, his breath ghosting over your lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “we can work through this, okay? you know how much i love you, baby.”

but do you really know that? what about when the next girl comes along, with dark hair and a pretty smile and makes him feel so desired, he just tells you that again because he knows, in the end, you’ll believe him?

the end

tag list: @mochibabycakes​ @atinyarmyx1​ @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich​ @minbinwhore​ @chrryhwa​ @chogiout​ @marksflvr​ @bunbaebae​ @markleeyeosang​ @inkigayeo​ @nlost21​ @toffee-hwa​

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Supposedly 

A/N: this was a request sent in that inspired me a lot for some reason and i figured i’d do it cause i haven’t done any demon!h and demon!reader in a while so i gave it a go and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out :D enjoy!

Anonymous: This may be too cutesy for them, but do demon!harry and demon!reader ever cuddle after they fuck? Or they fall asleep separately but wake up in each other’s arms and just try to play it off awkwardly 

word count: 4.5k

content: some angst but nothing major, fluff, mentions of nudity, and some cocky asshole demon!h because that’s his Brand laidese and germs!!

///

Despite the emotionless, unattached agenda demons tend to uphold, let it be known that Harry didn’t really mind what was happening at the moment. 

On the surface level, from an outside perspective, this definitely doesn’t fit the bill for what is expected from his kind. Cuddling is an action reserved usually for real couples that have a sentimental bond, which he and Y/N are very much not. He’s not even quite sure what they are, really. Their relationship— if he can even call it that— was born out of three very important, adequately limiting notions: a mutual understanding, the desire for a convenient warm body, and sheer boredom. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

The mutual understanding was that neither of them wanted a genuine significant other, given what they are, so it was established that feelings were to be kept out of this arrangement completely. Emotions lead to complications, complications lead to a falling out, and a falling out would be inexplicably messy considering that they’ve shared the same friend group for well over a decade now and neither are willing to let a booty call mishap ruin that. Feelings stay dormant, end of discussion. 

The desire for a convenient warm body is pretty self-explanatory— Harry and Y/N had known each other for a while now so there was no annoying getting to know you phase, they both agreed that they found the other attractive, and they both live relatively close to one another so it was a pleasant set-up with minimal issues. Harry could shoot her a text at three in the morning and she’d be at his place in less than five minutes, or vice versa. There was no spending hours at a bar trying to pick someone up, no time wasted learning what the other person likes and dislikes, and certainly no fretting over birth control tactics to keep up appearances— they were both dead, which is a morbid advantage but an advantage nonetheless. It was easy access, easy fun, and easy clean-up. 

The sheer boredom aspect was just that. It had started on a drunken night out with friends, where— by a series of fortunate events— Harry and Y/N had ended up together post-bender, sitting in his car in the parking lot of a club. They had been waiting for him to sober up to drive them home and she had made a passing comment about not wanting to turn in for the night quite yet. He’d blinked at her sluggishly, absentmindedly reaching over to tuck a rouge strand of hair behind her ear because he was getting secondhand irritation from it tickling her nose. He’d spoken up, voice numb and thick from the alcohol. “What do you wanna do, then?”

Y/N had glanced over at him, eyes half-lidded as they had raked down his lean tattooed chest, his unbuttoned silk sheer shirt leaving very little to the imagination. When she’d pinned her gaze back up to his, her eyes had inked black as they’d flitted to the palm of his hand for a second, a suggestive glint washing across their reflective surface as the corner of her pretty mouth had quirked. “I have a decent idea of exactly what I wanna do.”

And now here they were, with many restless, heated nights, ruined bed frames, and rumpled sheets littering their past, as well as their immediate future. 

And here Harry was, slowly blinking awake after one of those said nights, cruel scratches itching across his back as they finish up healing, an empty content still bubbling at the pit of his stomach. 

His lashes flutter open as he inhales a large sigh, flinching at the bright sunlight filtering its way through the lightly swaying curtains. The only sound in the room is the soft thrum of the air vent at the far corner of the ceiling, alongside Y/N’s soft, rhythmic breathing. 

In his barely conscious state, Harry goes to do what he always does the morning after he’s spent a night doing Y/N’s back in: he goes to stretch. He does most of the work more times than not— courtesy of his dominant tendencies— but she always gives him a run for his soul. Anything he dishes out, she usually returns with the same amount of energy and will. Last night hadn’t been any different and the ache at the bottom of his spine and along his inner thighs proves it. 

Harry instinctively goes to lift his arms above his head, reaching for the top of the headboard to use it as support. He is stopped cold when he realizes a foreign weight is keeping one of his arms pinned to the bed. 

He knuckles at his eyes with his free hand, ridding them of the last residues of sleep, and then drags his palm up his face and through his mussed curls to comb away his disorientation. He cranes his sore neck to the side and downwards, eyebrows jolting up in surprise when he’s met with a wall of fluffy, tangled, mandarin-scented hair. 

Harry lifts his head up slightly, neck straining to see over the back of Y/N’s wild halo to make sure that the image before him isn’t some type of exhaustion-induced mirage. 

It’s odd for her to be so near him— she usually likes her space; says that being too close in proximity for too long is irritating. It’s why she usually sleeps with her back to him at the other end of the bed, and why he’s gotten accustomed to giving her the majority of the mattress space. Despite the fact that it’s his flat, she’s stubborn, hard-headed, argumentative and frankly, he’d rather just forfeit the extra leg room instead of bickering for thirty minutes just to end up losing anyways. It’s gentlemanly, in a sense. Minimal, but it’s something.

Given Y/N’s general disgust for excess contact, it’s no shock as to why Harry is utterly baffled right now. He’s about ninety-eight percent sure she’d fallen asleep all the way across the expanse of his sheets so how did they willingly end up here? How did they end up with her bare back pressed to his chest, her legs intertwined between his, and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist, wedged between her hips and the bed. 

Harry would never outright admit it but...he’s not necessarily mad about it. 

As he lays there for a few more seconds, absorbing the situation with an expression of pensive dismay pinching his face, he slowly comes to terms that he’s actually starting to enjoy this.

The warmth of her smooth skin gradually undoes the knot of confusion between his brows. The sensation of her back flushing against his chest as it rises and falls with her breathing erases the unease dipping the corners of his stinging mouth. The way she’s started to unconsciously rub her calves gently up and down his own makes the last traces of unsettlement melt off his face, replaced by an appearance of subtle affection, lips parting in blank wonder. 

Harry relaxes back into the plushness of the mattress, eyes remaining glued to a blissfully ignorant Y/N. His thoughts are scurrying around the inside of his skull, attempting to get accustomed with this new experience, having a difficult time arranging into place. He’s aware that he seems to be taking easily to what’s unfolding, but there’s an unsteady bubble inflating in his chest. He knows that if he lets himself dwell in this too much, it’ll end up biting him in the ass later, most likely as a wave of undealt emotions and crippling loneliness; that’s baggage he’s spent too many years compartmentalizing for it to all just come bursting out. 

All those decades of locking away his issues are in danger of resurfacing, and all for some harmless hugging? Doesn’t seem like a fair negotiation, and he knows plenty about negotiations. 

However, he can’t seem to make himself pull away. 

Especially not when Y/N suddenly shifts in her sleep, turning onto her other side so that she's now facing him, snuggling deeper into his body and tucking her head into the junction between his neck and collarbones. Her annoyingly soft, hot lips smear against his throat, settling into the dip at the center where a pulse would normally be present. The feeling of her exhales washing across his cold skin sends a wringing down his spine, a hushed “fuck…” escaping his dry mouth as the warmth behind the gesture spreads upwards, spilling redness into his cheeks and along the shells of his ears. Her hands come up as loose fists, pressing between his pectorals lightly, her own naked chest flushing against her forearms. 

Surprisingly enough, her supple chest isn’t at the forefront of his mind at this instant. Instead, he’s focused on the intimacy they’re sharing in this moment, unbeknownst to her and stressfully beknownst to him. 

Harry’s free hand acts of its own accord, coasting upwards towards her face and moving her chin over a bit until his palm can comfortably nurse her jaw. He rubs the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip slowly, every ridge and bump sending miniature shots of electricity surging through his veins, his eyes falling shut at this strange form of pleasure he hasn’t felt in ages. 

Y/N just looks so beautiful like that, in such a vulnerable state that he knows for sure no one else has ever gotten to witness— at least not in a very long time. 

No one else has gotten to see the way her lashes sit atop her cheekbones so delicately, her face soothed by sleep, not a wrinkle or grimace in sight. She looks as if she were made of porcelain, her features nothing short of perfect. No one has gotten to witness the way she mumbles a handful of incoherent, groggy words, her mind lost in a meaningless dream, or the way her nose twitches in the cutest manner as a draft from the air conditioning runs across it, causing her to sniffle. No one has seen the way she gives into his touch, her face cradling deeper into his hand, chasing the uncommon gentleness behind his demeanor and it hadn’t occurred to Harry that maybe— just maybe— she’s craving this type of innocent bliss, too, though he’s certain she would never confess to it if she were awake. 

Harry runs his hand down the slope of her bruised neck and across the curve of her shoulder, tracing the teeth marks he had left the night before. The tip of his fingers follow down the incline of her torso, wriggling around her side, his wrist resting upon the faint dip of her waist. He cups her lower back with his large hand, borrowing a moment to appreciate the way it fits flawlessly. He then leans forward some to give his reach more length, his digits carefully trailing up the middle of her spine, the action timid and tranquil. 

He looks down at her from over the tops of his colored cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he continues to lull his fingers up and down her back. Y/N releases a shy whimper of gratitude, her whole body bathing in a light shiver. She does like it.

Harry swallows thickly, moving away a few locks of hair off her shoulder with the tip of his nose, glassy jade irises studying her facial expressions to make sure she’s still asleep. He puckers his tingling lips, pressing a bundle of chaste kisses to the fading bite marks on her staticy skin. If his heart still beat, he feels like it would be glowing right now. 

He tilts his chin up, settling it on top of her head and sighing in satisfaction as he feels her steady breathing wash across his Adam’s Apple, her flyaway hairs tickling his nostrils. 

He decides to stay like that for a while,  just basking in her company within this tender setting that he knows he probably won’t receive again anytime soon. Harry lays there, limbs woven between Y/N’s as his black-polished nails scratch gently at her back, swimming in his numb thoughts. 

After what feels like hours— but is realistically just ten minutes— he goes to gingerly shift the arm stuck beneath her body, trying to regain some circulation. Y/N stirs, resulting in him freezing in place to prevent a mishap, his mouth finding her warm forehead and placing a lingering kiss between her brows. It eases her. 

Harry waits five minutes before trying again.

He manages to escape this time around, lifting his arm above his head and twisting out the cramp in his wrist, then folding it behind his head. He allows his eyes to shut once again, intent on spending a bit longer milling in this bubble of domestic peace.

His plan is shattered to pieces by an alarmed, angry sentence. 

“What the fuck?”

His eyelids fly open, ice materializing across his entire nervous system. 

Shit.

Y/N launches upwards, sitting up rigidly with her face contorted in startled repulsion, clutching his blood red sheets to her chest as her hair stands up in tousled tuffs. “What in Lucifer’s red, barren hell are you doing?”

Harry now has two distinctive routes to pick from: confess to partaking in the unorthodox cuddling, or fake it and say he was asleep as well and that it had all been an unintentional mistake. 

It’s hardly a choice. 

He flings his arms away from the other demon’s body as if sickened, shooting up into a seated position and slouching back onto his palms, a look of agitated horror plastered across his sleepy, handsome features. “What do you mean what am I doing? What the fuck were you doing?”

Y/N blinks at him as if he’d just stabbed her between the eyes with a demon blade, irises momentarily flitting black with nerves, the area under her waterline webbing with dark veins. “What do you mean what was I doing? You were the one with your arms around me!”

Harry narrows his sight at her pointedly, thick brows furrowing with faux resentment. “You were the one with your head snuggled into my neck and your hands on my chest!”

“You were the one kissing my forehead!”

“You were the one rubbing up on my legs!”

“Because you were close to me!”

“Because you rolled over here!” 

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh, so what?” Harry snaps sarcastically, drawing forward and crossing his arms over his chest adamantly. “Did an angel sneak in and place you there? Because as I recall, you always sleep on the left side of the bed, so what were you doing on the right?”

Harry’s accurate counter renders Y/N speechless, her mouth parting quizzically as if waiting for a response to magically appear. Her eyebrows cinch down begrudgingly, the gears in her head spinning on overdrive, trying to piece together an appropriate rebuttal. Her grasp tightens on the blanket covering her bare body. “Well, I...I don’t know—I don’t think I—”

Harry cocks his head to the side expectantly, loose curls falling across his forehead as he shrugs his brows with a condescending air. He mimics her with a high-pitched voice. “Well, I— I don’t know— I—I don’t think I—I—I—”

Y/N’s face goes sour as heat floods her cheeks, fire threatening to spark across the tips of her sizzling ears. She yanks the sheets off of him, holding them with one hand as she uses the other to begin crawling across the bed towards the edge, a haphazard defense thrown over her shoulder. “Shut up! It wasn’t on purpose!”

Harry scoffs in dark amusement, not even bothering to cover himself up. He bites into his cheek to keep from exploding into a round of triumphant laughter; he can’t believe he managed to turn the tides so quickly. “Oh, so you admit it was you, then?”

Y/N dismounts the atrociously tall bed, stumbling over the long linens as she desperately searches for her clothes. “No! I’m just saying that whatever happened, it didn’t happen intentionally!” 

“Obviously.” The brunette demon snorts, shaking his head for subtle emphasis, crossing his ankles offhandedly and returning both arms to the place where one had been prior— tucked behind his head casually. “What do you think we are, mortal?” 

“Of course not.” Y/N agrees quickly— a little too quickly, which hints to Harry that she might be trying to cover something up. Perhaps she wasn’t as disgusted by this as she had led on…

He watches as his friend— he uses the term lightly— shuffles around his room, peering at the floor in an determined quest to find her jeans, underwear, and black lace blouse. Or maybe she’s just hellbent on avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Y/N…” His tone has lost its arrogantly mocking edge, softened by what she can only decode as...guilt? 

She ignores it and doesn’t answer, nearly passing out in relief when she spots her panties and bra hanging off the doorknob to his closet. She snatches them swiftly, panning her gaze around the rest of the room for her leftover clothes, spotting them in a pile sticking out from underneath the opposite corner of the bed. They’d probably gotten kicked there in the heat of the moment. 

Harry repeats himself a little louder, adding onto his comment to try and stifle some of the embarrassment radiating from her. “Y/N, you don’t have to leave. You usually stay for breakfast.” 

Y/N scoops up her outfit, settling it into the crook of her right elbow and squaring her shoulders as if ready to brace a hellhound. Their gazes lock and he feels his stomach flop when he sees the vulnerability she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s good at it, he’ll give her that, but if he stares intently enough, he can just make out the traces of conflicted longing leaking into the disinterested facade around her pupils. 

“It’s fine, Harry.” She sighs heavily, her tone drastically different from the unkempt girl that had been floundering about just seconds ago. She’s now calm, cool, collected, and scaringly so. “I have somewhere to be later. Meeting someone to close a deal.”

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently, grabbing a handful of the sheets arranged around her figure and pulling away, dropping the bedspread at his feet and leaving herself completely nude. 

And there she is, the Y/N he so well knows. The same one that uses sex appeal as a shield. 

She’s managed to spackle the cracks that had appeared in her typical barrier of heartlessness, her confidence and ease leveling off once again. She places her clothes on top of the crumpled sheets, picking out her cheeky bright red panties from the heap and working them up her tempting legs. Harry can’t help but notice the hickies covering her inner thighs, as well as the finger prints staining her hips. 

Y/N catches him ogling, smirking to herself now that she has her composure back in order. She hooks her index finger around one of the straps in her bra, lifting it up and bouncing the lace lingerie in front of him teasingly. She raises her eyebrows at her lover provokingly, a sultry air pouting her lips. “Think you can help a girl out?”

Harry licks at his slightly chapped lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the article hanging off her hand to the sly grin decorating the edges of her pretty mouth. When he speaks, it’s low and thicker than usual, accent heavy. “Of course, pet.”

His legs thunk emptily off the bed and onto the floor, a small grunt catching the back of his throat as he pushes himself up onto his feet. He is most definitely sore. 

His footsteps are soft against the carpeted ground, faltering as he rounds the corner of the mattress. 

Y/N eyes his every move, suckling her bottom lip at the way his muscles flex and contract under his sun-kissed skin. She doesn’t let herself wander below his waist though; she’s never one to pass up flaunting her power of will. 

Harry stops about a foot away, taking the bra from she is offering and holding it out for her to slip into. She does so at a mind-numbing pace, her toes curling as she feels his warm fingertips running the material up her arms and onto their designated spot on her shoulders. He tugs at the hooks gently, pinning them into place and tucking the tag in, exactly how he’s seen her do countless of times before. 

He then runs the palms of his hands up her arms, sighing softly at the silky sensation of her skin and giving her shoulders a dismissive squeeze. “All done.” 

Y/N turns on her heels to face him, looking up innocently through her lashes, lips quirking into an easy smile. “Thank you. Such a gentleman.” 

Her playfully seductive personality is unbearably contagious, seen in how Harry returns her action with a coy scoff and a simper of his own. “For you, always.”

“Well…” Y/N turns her lower half to the side, showing him her ass for significance, which is covered in the unmistakable print of his hand and rings. “I wouldn’t say always.” 

Harry’s pursed lips break into an even wider shit-eating grin, his cheeky laughter echoing across the walls of the apartment, his arms absentmindedly folding across his broad chest. “Yeah, well, you can’t say it’s one-sided, can you?”

He points towards his neck, stretching his chin upwards so that she gets a good view of all the fading love bites she’d left there the night before. 

Y/N’s giggles match his. “Touché.”

Harry rummages through his drawers as she finishes getting dressed, shimmying into her tight jeans and throwing her shirt on, finger-combing her hair into a decent state. He comes up with a pair of maroon briefs, slipping them on as he walks back towards her, letting the elastic band snap into place against his lower abdomen. 

The two demons with benefits stand before each other, Y/N with her braided black sandals swung over her shoulders and Harry with his hands fixed on his hips nonchalantly. 

“You really can’t stay for breakfast?” Harry inquiries one last time, lifting his eyebrows curiously. “I’m making those cinnamon bun waffles you like so much.” 

Y/N sighs grandly, clutching her chest dramatically as if it physically hurts her to decline his offer. “I’d love to, but work is work. Don’t really have a say.” 

Her friend nods in understanding, well aware of the truth behind her words. “It is what it is, then.” 

“However...” Her sudden continuation makes his head perk. She reaches up, carding her fingers into his messy curls and combing them back from his face, tucking a handful of rebellious ringlets behind his small ears and giving him one final self-assured smile. “Do y’think you could maybe save me two and I can come pick them up tonight?”

Harry cranes his head to the side, placing a slow peck to the palm of her hand and then biting into her skin jokingly, a certain lewdness painted all over the deed. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Great.” Y/N quips happily, wrapping his curls around her knuckles roughly and hauling him in for a sloppy, dirty kiss that leaves his teeth numb and his face buzzing. 

Once she breaks their mouths, lightly panting with her skin a darker shade than before, he has to blink three times in order to reign himself back in. His ability to form coherent sentences right now is about as useful as alphabet soup; he just gives her a jerky nod instead. 

Y/N wipes at his swollen lips with the pad of her thumb, giving his cheek a playful pat. “I’ll see you then, H.” 

Harry can’t tear his eyes away as she leaves, his bedroom door clicking shut behind her, the soft, distant thunk of his front door accompanying the sound a bit later. 

Fuck, that was something is the first comprehensible thought that registers in his mind. 

It was absolutely something and who knows how differently it would have gone if he had admitted giving into the weakness they had both sworn off of. 

That notion haunts him for a while— the idea that he could have driven her away for good if he had confessed that his emotions had bleed through their arrangement. Sure, it had only been this once, but Harry has a horrible gut-wrenching feeling that he’s unlocked a box deep in the back of his skull that won’t easily be chained down again. 

He thinks this over again and again as he prepares his morning meal, the looming uncertainties of it all causing him to check out of reality here and there, resulting in a few burn marks across his hands and two charred waffles in the bin. 

As Harry finally sits down to enjoy the food that had nearly not made it to his plate, he finds himself mentally running through the awkward encounter he and Y/N had faced this morning. He can’t stop himself from dwelling on the expression he had seen crack through her eyes earlier— one that showed she seemed to be feeling the same kind of emotional turmoil he was. It opens too many unanswered questions for their future and he hates himself for being so worried when nothing had truly happened. For all he knows, it could have just been a trick of the sunlight that had been streaming into the room. He’s getting himself out of sorts for nothing. 

However, as he goes in on a forkful of his cinnamon-glazed pastry, one pesky detail suddenly launches him into a coughing fit. 

It was so minuscule he had missed it the first fifty times he had run through the events, but it had decided to prick him in the brain now, the weak dam of reassurance he had built crumbling to ashes.  

After Y/N had woken up, saw what was happening, and their fight had ensued, she had made a comment about how Harry had kissed her forehead. 

On the surface, it had seemed unimportant because yes, that is exactly what he had done. The problem arose when he remembered that she had been dead asleep when he had done that. 

Supposedly.

He had gone to remove his arm from below her body, she had fussed a bit, he had pressed his lips to her forehead to ease her, and she had remained asleep for a while longer until he decided to finish removing his arm. That final motion was what had awoken her.

Supposedly. 

If she had been unconscious the whole time they were cuddling, then how did she know he’d kissed her?

[iamverysmall-andihavenomoney]

Finding Out That Their Career is Over

Haikyū!! Masterlist

Pairing(s): Oikawa Tōru x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Talk of knee injuries, angst,

A/N: Apparently, I just love giving Oikawa knee injuries.

If the pain hadn’t been enough, here he was, stuck in a rehabilitation program. With a few more months, his knee was looking towards a recovery, or at least, that’s what the doctors had told him, at first.

   The pain was bearable, in his opinion. If he had his way, he’d have been back to the team, as soon as he’d recovered. But his doctors, nor his teammates would allow that. Most of all you, the lover who’d been with him, every step of the way, wouldn’t allow him to continue playing, until he was given an ‘okay’ by the doctors.

   Watching him shakily stand from the seat beside yours, in the doctor’s office, you allow him to gently grasp your shoulder, to stabilize himself. He’d only just gotten off of his crutches a month ago, and after four months of dealing with them, he was relieved.

   Tōru sends you a grateful smile, leaning over and gently kissing your temple, “Thank you, Y/N,” he whispers, moving his hand so he can place his arm gently over your shoulders, walking with him towards the office.

It had taken him a while to get used to putting some of his dependence on you. Tōru was an independent person. So getting used to having to place his hand on your shoulder to get up, to having to have you help him do mundane things like get up in the morning, to get into the shower, to get the bulky brace on, every morning... It was hard. He was trying to get used to it, he truly was. But going from an Olympic level athlete to, in his opinion, a below-average man who needed to depend on everyone around him, wasn't something that happened overnight.

Making it back to the room, you move to sit in the seat next to the small, plastic and paper encased bed where the patients were supposed to sit, while Tōru moves to take a seat on the bed. His legs hang over it, spread open a bit to allow his hands to rest in between his thighs, fingers picking lightly at his nails - a habit both of you had thought he'd dropped a long time ago.

Reaching over, you grasp the hand closest to you, giving it a gentle squeeze. Brown eyes shift to you and soften at the sight of your reassuring expression. Bringing your hand to his lips, he gently kisses each of your fingertips. "I love you."

   You tilt your head, "I love you too, Tōru."

The wait for the doctor to come in only worsened Tōru’s steadily growing anxiety. Long digits fiddle with the fabric that keeps his knee supported. If you hadn’t been there to hold his hand through it, you were sure he would have lost his mind, trying to just wait for the doctor to come in.

   Though the anxiety building up in you through the duration of your wait in that little room was nothing compared to the way your stomach dropped, when the doctor entered the room. His expression was near emotionless, despite the smile plastered on his old, wrinkled face.

   “My boy,” both you and Tōru visibly cringed at the display of unwanted familiarity. You’d both been in this office far too often, recently.

   “Hi, doc!” Despite his own worry, your husband manages to keep a clean face about things. “So, tell me: when am I due to return to volleyball?” He sat on the edge of the table, leaning forward in anticipation... Almost like a child might... You could only hope that there would be only good news, from here on in.

The hope that was filling his expression nearly broke your heart. He wanted to return to volleyball so badly. He deserved to go back. If only the universe wasn't so cruel.

   The mood of the room changed and the smile slipped from the doctor’s features. “My boy, I’m afraid I don’t think that will be possible.”

   Toru’s expression darkens, though it’s only for a moment. “That - That’s not true -... You and Dr.-”

   “While we thought a full recovery was possible,” the older man continues, “After reexamination, we’ve realized that your knee, while you will have the strength to walk again, without any pain, will never be able to handle the type of pressure that your jumps put on it. Even with how remarkable your recovery has gone, thus far... You shattered your patella, Señor Oikawa. You were lucky to have made the recovery you did, as quickly as you did.”

   You couldn’t breath for a moment, just staring at your husband. He’d worked to be on this team, doing what he loved, his entire life. It wasn’t fair that now he found himself not able to play. Watching the way emotions scattered through his features, you swallowed the lump in your throat. If the recovery hadn’t killed him, the grief of losing his entire career and livelihood might.

   Disbelief, anger, denial, terror... The all struck his features faster than he could stop them, leaving him not only feeling lost, but leaving him feeling vulnerable in front of this near stranger. And he hated feeling vulnerable.

But how could he stop these emotions? His whole world came to a stand-still. All of those nights he'd stayed away for hours, before coming home to find you having fallen asleep trying to wait up for him, dinner now cold, on the table; all of those weeks at different training camps, when he wouldn't get to see you for what felt like an eternity; all of those years of perfecting his techniques and making a name for himself... It was all for nothing.

   He wanted to leave. Now.

   Without a word, he shoves himself up from where he was seated, walking haphazardly towards the door. He’s swinging it open by the time you can stand up and take the steps to reach him. “Don’t touch me.” His voice holds a bite you weren’t used to as he turns his back towards you, walking... Or rather, limping, away from the room.

   You frown and turn to face the doctor, offering an apology and asking him to send the medical bill to your residence. Then, you take off after the tall male.

Making it to your car, you slide into the driver’s side, silent as you turn on the car. You don’t say anything until the car is running, “Tōru, you can’t just-”

“Why can’t I?” He snaps at you, shooting you a withering look, as if you were the cause of his injuries. “Why can’t I lose my temper? Please, give me a reason, Y/N. Please tell me why I can’t act the way I want to, when my life is in pieces."

"Since you seem to know so goddamn much, please tell me why I can't lose it. I've waited my entire life, only to fall just short of the Olympics? What good am I if I can't even do that?" Tōru wasn't made. It was upset, call it heart-broken, if you will. But all he could find himself doing was lashing out in anger, kicking his bad leg out to his the glovebox of your car.

Pain courses through his knee, making his let out a pained noise as he slowly sinks down into his seat. "I fucked it all up... I'm never gonna be..." He lets out a shaky breath. "I'm never going to make it. I should have fucking known, I-"

"Tōru, I love you, but shut up." Your tone makes watery eyes shift to you. "You are not going to sit here and tell yourself that you're useless and push me away." You grab his hand and lift it up, "You see these rings? Through hell and high water, Tōru. That's what we promised one another. You made it here. This is a setback, but it doesn't mean your career is over, with volleyball. Let's just... Go home. You can get mad, scream, hit the wall or something, whatever you need to. Then we can sit down and talk about what's next.

"I love you... You are going to make it through this. And I'm going to be here with you, every step of the way. Understood?"

Your husband lets out a shaky exhale, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I understand. I'm sorry I yelled at you," he slowly puts his head on your shoulder.

You could tell by the way his lip quivered that he was trying to hold it all in. But what good would that do?

Sliding back the center console you shift so he can lean into your embrace. No words are spoken as loud sobs begin to rip through his body. His lean form shakes against you as he cries. His sobs break your heart, though you couldn't imagine the pain he was in, at the moment.

His sobs didn't quiet for a while, in fact, as you soothed a hand through his soft hair, he only seemed to sob harder, almost as if he thought he'd disappointed you. Though, as he wore himself out, his sobs slowly quieted into soft whimpers. No matter if his sobs had quieted down or not, you weren't moving until he said something.

"I wanna go home."

That was all it took, before you were both back in your seats, on your way back to your shared home. You weren't sure how long it would take Tōru to be okay, again, or if he ever would be. But you'd fallen in love with him and made your vows. He's the love of your life and you promised that you would see him through it, to the end.

General Taglist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

[jeonchristineimnida]

Jimin - I’m dating him

genre: oneshot, fluff, crack, sfw

pairing: jimin x reader

rating: pg13

warnings: attempt of hitting, mentions of death of both parents

word count: 3007

Summary: You were preparing a birthday surprise for your brother (Yoongi) with the boys. The other members have been teasing you with Jimin seeing how close you are but Yoongi was never happy with the jokes. What happens when Yoongi finds out it was never just a joke?

Masterlist

Preparing for Yoongi’s birthday has never been so stressful. You thought having more than one person preparing would help you lessen the stress but it had an opposite effect.

“Namjoon, not that!”

“Hoseok, that’s too much flour!”

“Jungkook and Taehyung I swear if you knock one more--” before you could finish your warning, they’ve knocked over the bag of flour that was supposed to be used for Yoongi’s cake. They looked at each other before looking everywhere but your eyes. “KIM. TAE. HYUNG. JEON. JUNG. KOOK.” 

Your blood pressure was steadily rising when you felt two hands gently rubbing both of your arms. “Deep breaths” Jimin’s voice was soft and sweet. He wants to calm you but the scene was too funny as the 2 youngest looked panicked at the mess they made that he couldn’t help but choke in a few laugh.

“Quick, scoop them back.” Taehyung suddenly got on his knees to scoop the flour from the floor and Jungkook did the same, shooting shy smiles to you in the hopes to lower the fumes they imagine coming out from your nose and ears.

You heaved a deep sigh as you shook your head before going to Jin and checking with how the pasta was going. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Jin says as he stirs the sauce for the carbonara. “They really do wanna help but their playfulness gets the best of them. Let them do the decorations instead.” 

You did as told and asked them to prepare the living room of the dorm with balloons and the banners you made with Jungkook after they cleaned the mess they’ve made. 

“Ha, those kids don’t learn.” Namjoon comments with a chuckle when Jin shouts as he was about to cut the onions with the round side on the chopping board. “Namjoon, you go with Jungkook and Taehyung!” Jin suddenly snapped. 

Everyone was surprised when Jin suddenly shouted, only to have Namjoon join the two troublemakers as he rubbed his nape with a shy chuckle. 

“I got kicked out of the kitchen too.” He says and the two smiled from ear to ear.

“Welcome to the club” They said in unison, making you chuckle as you shook your head and went back to the kitchen.

“Am I doing this right?” Jimin asks as he mixes flour, baking powder and salt in one place. You smiled as you nodded, taking the butter and sugar and mixing it with the dry ingredients of Jimin. As you start mixing it, Jimin takes it from you as he playfully flexes his arm. You scrunch up your nose and laugh before reminding him to add the eggs one at the time after beating the ingredients properly. After checking if the oven was preheated, you start making the royal icing by whipping the whites of the egg with icing sugar.

“Are we telling him today?” Jimin suddenly asks, making you almost drop the bowl of mixture in your hands. “No biggy if you’re not yet ready.” He shrugs, cracking the second egg he’s adding to his mixture before shooting you his signature eye smile that never failed to make your heart melt.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell him, but I don’t want to cause any rifts between the two of you if things don’t go the way we planned.” You answer, continuing to whisk as you thought of multiple scenarios on how your protective brother would react. 

Ever since you lost both your parents, he’s always been over protective of you. You thought you just weren’t pretty enough back in high school which is why you lacked love life but you recently found out it was Yoongi preventing any guy from actually making a move on you. You love your brother to bits but there are just moments when you can’t be honest with him, even if you wanted to. You didn’t want him pushing Jimin away from you, especially not causing any awkwardness to the group if things go downhill between the two of them if he finds out about you guys dating. 

You’ve already hid it from him for 6 months now, and none of the boys know, except for Jungkook who walked in on you making out with Jimin when he came in late from his self practices. He hasn’t told anyone but never fails to make it a blackmail when he needs a favor. 

You looked back up, surprised that Jimin suddenly became quiet. His face was emotionless as he handed the mixture to you before going to Hoseok who was preparing the chicken lollipops and deep frying them. 

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt up your chest. You’ve added vanilla extracts and milk to the mixture, giving it one final mix before putting it in the cake pan and placing it in the oven to cook. You gather up the courage to approach your boyfriend silently.

“Jimin?” You gently tugged on the end of his shirt, your eyes already apologetic.

“It’s okay, Jimin ah. I can fry these. Go talk to your girl.” Hoseok teases as he pokes Jimin’s side but Jimin barely smiled before walking over to the corner of the kitchen where the oven is.

“Are you mad?” You quietly asked, not being able to look at his eyes.

“Not really.” He answers, turning his back from you as he checks the cake cooking in the oven. “Is there something else you want to tell me?” 

“It’s not like I plan to hide it forever from oppa, but I just didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship in case--”

“In case we break up, is that it?” He finished the sentence differently than what you were supposed to answer. You were supposed to say in case he flips out.

“What? No--”

“I just got a text from Yoongi. He’s coming over. Someone distract him!” Jin says panicked as he looked at his phone. “The cake is barely done, the pasta is still uncooked, we need more time.”

“I’ll go.” Jimin says, picking up his coat when you ran after him, taking his hand.

“Please hear me out first,” you desperately want to explain, not wanting him to doubt your love for him for more than a second.

“Let’s talk later.” He pulled his hand away from yours and you felt your heart break. You willed the tears not to fall and he noticed it. “Let’s not waste all the effort you put into this event. I’ll go distract him for now. We’ll talk later.” He says, showing a thin lipped smile pursed to one side. He gently pats your head in attempt to reassure you before heading out of the dorm. 

“Heyy Y/N, We’re out of helium and there are still a few more balloons--” Jungkook approached you by the door only to stop when he saw your face. “What happened?” 

You wipe the tears that pooled in your eyes, coughing the knot from your throat before giving him a small smile. “We can just have the left over balloons scattered on the floor or you can throw it to oppa when he enters the dorm.”

“Did you guys fight?” Jungkook guessed and the way you froze for a second gave it away. “If he said something, I’m sure he’s already thinking of ways on how to apologize to you. Don’t worry, Jimin hyung loves you.”

Another stabbing sensation radiated from your chest. “I fucked up, Jungkook ah.” You started sobbing and the boys were all surprised. Never had they seen you cry, most especially break down in front of them.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t cry. We still have time. Your event’s not fucked yet, okay?” Namjoon was quick to run to your side as he rubs your back, trying to console you. 

“Yeah, look I can finish with the balloons in 5 minutes!!” Taehyung says, pumping air into them faster even if it made him look silly.

“The chicken’s done!” Hoseok informed you, showing you the plated friend chicken along with his radiating smile. 

You smiled at all their efforts, but your heart was still in pain. You remember the hurt that was evident in Jimin’s face before he left, yet he was still the one who comforted you at the end.

“If you want,” Jungkook came close to whisper in your ear “I can beat him up when he comes back.” He playfully cracked his knuckles before pinching your nose. 

“If there’s anyone to beat up, it’s me.” You sighed, giving him a small smile before going back to the kitchen to finish the dressing of the cake. 

It was about half an hour when Jin received a text from Jimin saying that they were on their way back. You hurried to cover the cake with icing and decorate it while the others prepared the table with food. Jin was constantly swatting hands of those who try to sneak a bite before the actual party when someone came through the door. Our hearts stopped as we weren’t finished preparing when Jimin popped into the corner of the kitchen to ask what else needs help.

“Where’s oppa?” You asked, watching him take off his coat and walking back to us. 

“Manager called him before we got into the elevator. Told him I’d go ahead cause I needed to use the toilet.” He explains, looking the food in front of him. His lips shaped like an O with amusement as the feast in front of him.

Jin instructed the younger ones to grab a balloon while Hoseok takes the party poppers and handed one to Jin. They positioned themselves by the door. You completed the cake and waited with them. It wasn’t long til the door opened and you all shouted with the confetti popping.

Yoongi covered his mouth, faking surprise and the guys just threw the balloons and party popper at him.

“You’re no fun, hyung.” Hoseok said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you got no jams hyung. It’s not Jimin anymore.” Namjoon agreed, his hands in his waist.

“Can’t blame me! Jimin gave it away when he keeps fiddling with his phone as he drags me to places neither of us likes.” Yoongi laughs, walking towards you with a smile. “If you want to surprise me, you gotta do better than that.” He smirks, ruffling your hair before he closed his eyes to make a wish. As he blows the candle, you smiled and gathered up courage to speak.

“I’m dating Jimin, oppa. Surprise!” You say abruptly, remembering how hurt Jimin was before he left. You didn’t want him to doubt your feelings, not anymore than you already made him feel.

“If you’re just saying that cause I told you to do better, you didn’t have to go that far.” He was denying it but the rest knew you were being serious.

“We’ve been dating for 6 months now. It’ll be 7 months next week.”

“You dare hide these kind of things from me?” Yoongi was mad. His hands was raised and you closed my eyes to prepare for an impact which never came. As you opened your eyes, Jimin stood in front of you, prepared to receive the blow but Jungkook held Yoongi’s arm.

“Do you know what you’ve put yourself into?! What if you get stalked by paparazzi and your face gets exposed? What if you get followed or abused by sasaengs while we’re away?! I told you--”

“Yoongi, calm down.” Jin tried to mediate the situation when Jimin spoke up.

“I’ll protect her, hyung.” Jimin’s voice was firm. 

“How?! We’re always out, practicing, on tours and promotions, how can you take care of my sister?!” Yoongi grabbed Jimin’s shirt, crumpling it with his fist. 

“Oppa! Stop!” You quickly give the cake to Taeyung to hold Yoongi’s hand, prying them away from Jimin. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d blow things out of proportion! I’m already 22! I’m an adult and I can choose whoever I want to date!”

Yoongi scoffs as he looks at you. “Blowing it out of proportion, you say?” he lets go of Jimin to look at you. You’ve never seen your brother this mad. “Fine. Do whatever you want. You won’t hear anything from me ever again.”

Yoongi storms off as he slams the door loudly, everyone flinching as it made impact. 

“I’ll go talk to him.” Jin says, grabbing his coat. “Hoseok ah, come with me.”  Hoseok took his coat as well before the followed your brother outside. 

You fell to your knees as you sob, covering your face. This wasn’t how you wanted to surprise your brother, and you regret the words you’ve said from the heat of the moment. You knew your brother did nothing but to take care of you, and having to raise you when both your parents were gone. You appreciated all that and you didn’t want him out of your life.

“Don’t worry, hyung will come around. He just needs time.” Namjoon says, patting your shoulder. Namjoon signed at Taehyung and Jungkook to leave you and Jimin alone to talk. Jungkook gave you a hug before leaving.

“I’m sorry--”

“No, don’t apologize.” You quickly say, looking up to Jimin. “Our relationship is not a mistake. My feelings for you are not a mistake. Don’t apologize.” You held Jimin’s hands in yours as you shake. 

Jimin pulled you into his arms, rocking you slowly as he strokes your hair gently. 

“We’ll apologize to hyung and make it up to him.” He says, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“What if he doesn’t want to talk?” you asked softly, your heart breaking as you remember his words before he left

You won’t hear anything from me ever again

“We won’t stop until he talks to us.” Jimin shrugs before looking down to meet my gaze. “If there’s anything Yoongi hyung loves more than sleep, it’s you. He treasures you a lot and I’m sure he just meant well. We just gotta give him time.” He gives you a small smile, gently pinching your cheeks.

After staying all cuddled up for some time, you’ve calmed down and Jimin helped you up. You walked to the dining table where the food you prepared were laid out. You wiped your remaining tears as you start wrapping them with plastic covers. Jimin came from behind to give you a hug. He showers your temple with soft kisses, making you chuckle as you pat the arms around you, assuring him that you’re okay. He gives your cheeks one last peck before letting go as he helped you clean up.

“Namjoon ah!” You didn’t notice that Jin and Hoseok came back with Yoongi. Your brother was quiet as he took off his coat and walked to the living room, opening the TV without saying anything.

Jin and Hoseok gave you a thumbs up as they called the others. You looked up to Jimin and he gave you a smile as he squeezed your hand. He nodded towards your brother and encouraged you to talk to him while he removes the covers from the food. 

You took a deep breath and walked over to your brother, head bowed down as you fiddle with your finger. It has always been like this after you get scolded by him and you’d want to apologize.

“Oppa” I said softly, biting your lower lip as you wait for him to response, but he didn’t. You called out again once more but he continued to flip the channel, evidently not watching but doesn’t want to pay attention to you as well. You took a deep breath and knelt in front of him, matching his eye level as you once again called to him. This time, you had his attention as his eyes looked at you, but his emotionless response hurt you. He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly telling you to continue what you were about to say when you sat on your legs and started apologizing.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I understand you were just worried for my sake, but I didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship with Jimin because of my feelings. I love you oppa, and it did hurt hiding it from you but I’m sorry, I also love Jimin.” you took a deep breath, not realizing you weren’t breathing as you talked. Tears continue to fall but you took your brother’s hand in yours before looking up to his eyes. “Please don’t be mad, oppa. I don’t want to lose either one of you.”  

“Yah. Park Jimin.” He suddenly calls out, making Jimin rush to your side, standing straight as if he was a soldier talking to his commander. “Are you serious about my sister?” Yoongi now shifts his gaze from you to your boyfriend.

“I am.” Jimin’s answer was straight and firm. Yoongi tried to hide the smile wanting to form on his lips by clearing his throat. He stood up, heading to the dining table as he looked at the food prepared for him.

“Yah, dongsaengi, why did you make the cake chocolate? I thought I said I wanted mocha this year.” You lit up as your brother used the endearment he uses when he plays around. You stood up and ran to him, hugging him from behind. You weren’t able to see the smile on Yoongi’s face as he pats your arms wrapped around him.

“Alriiiight! Yoongi hyung is smiling! Time to eat!!” Taehyung cheers, diving into the food. Jungkook gave me a smile as the rest started to dig in, merrily chatting as they tease Jimin for not saying anything to them as well. You smile at what’s in front of you, everyone having fun and goofing around. 

Your eyes traveled to Jimin’s, his hearty laugh makes your heart swell. Your brother playfully hits him for not saying anything but was dead serious when he warned him about putting you in danger. Jimin looked scared, but as he found you looking at him, he gave you a genuine eye smile, subtly winking which made you chuckle.

Masterlist

[bang-tan-bitches]

Title: Adore Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: NSFW Genre: Smut or PWP Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Cream Pie, Dirty Talk, Slight Come Play, Slight Praise Kink, Sloppy Seconds  Pairings: Taehyung x Reader x Yoongi (implied BTS reader) Summary:  “If you feel uncomfortable at anytime just say the word and we stop.” Written by: Admin B

“Baby are you ready?”

You smile up into Yoongi’s warm brown eyes and nod. You could admit you were nervous. When he originally requested this for his birthday… you were completely caught off guard. You loved him so deeply, with everything inside of you that you would deny him nothing.. but this? You were upset at first. How could someone that claimed to love you so much ask this of you, but… he did so much and asked for so little and if you could give him this… of course you would. After all, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind.

Yoongi tilts your face up and gives you a soft, sweet kiss, “I’m going to be right over there,” He gestures to an armchair in the corner of the room, “I’ll be watching the entire time. If you feel uncomfortable at anytime just say the word and we stop.”

You shift nervously on the bed when Yoongi goes to the bedroom door, letting Taehyung into the room. Taehyung is speaking quietly with Yoongi before looking at you and smiling warmly. You smile back shyly before looking down at your lap. You hear their deep voices murmuring for a few more minutes before you see Yoongi go to the armchair out of the corner of your eyes. You continue staring down at your lap when you see Taehyung’s legs stop in front of you.

“Princess, can you look at me please?”

You slowly look up, and up, and up. Was he always so tall? You know logically that he’s only about three or four inches taller than Yoongi, but right now he’s just so big and his presence is so looming and you can’t believe that you are about to have sex with your boyfriend’s bandmate and friend, all at his own request. You lock eyes with him and he cups your face gently.

“There you are beautiful. You seem to be lost in your head. If you don’t want to do this, it’s okay.”

“No,” You shake your head, “No, I want to do this.” You try to turn your head to look at Yoongi, but Taehyung holds your head still, keeping eye contact.

“Keep your eyes on me. Can you do that princess? I don’t want you to focus on anything else, but me.” You lick your lips and nod your head.

Taehyung grabs your hand and pulls you up so you’re standing in front of him. He smiles sweetly down at you and pulls open the silk robe you are wearing.

“Oh baby,” His eyes widen at the pale pink bra and panty set, “You are absolutely gorgeous. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” Your words come out breathier than you intended and you feel your cheeks heat when Taehyung smiles at you knowingly. Your eyes flutter shut as Taehyung leans closer to you, his hand cups your neck and his lips brush softly against your cheek. He tilts your head up and his lips touch yours. The kiss is so achingly gentle, it’s almost as if he’s afraid you will break. You deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth and running your hands up his chest.

Taehyung pulls away from you briefly and pulls his shirt off before his mouth is back on yours and his large, warm hands are all over you. You press yourself tightly against him, your fingers trying to touch every part of his chest and stomach. Taehyung’s hands slide down and cup your ass before he picks you up completely.

Taehyung cradles your head as he lays you back against the bed. His lips trail hot, wet kisses down your throat as your hands grasp at the bed sheets. You arch your back when he reaches your chest and pulls the cup of your bra down, his lips wrapping around your nipple with a deep groan.

You can’t hold in your gasp when he suckles on your nipple while twisting the other with a pinch of his fingers. Your knees rest high against his sides as you try to move closer to him. Taehyung pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop before slowly kissing down your stomach, his large hands holding your ribs delicately.

Taehyung presses wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips as his fingers slide into the waistband of your panties. “You’re so perfect princess. I have waited so long to get you like this.”

You can’t stop the moan that leaves you at his words. You help him shimmy your panties off before he’s sliding your thighs over his shoulders and staring at your drenched cunt.

“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So pink, so wet, so fucking perfect.”  

You bite your lip and stare down at him. He winks at you before pressing his mouth against you, sliding his tongue inside your warm, wet hole. You release a choked cry and grab at his hair, holding his face against you. The wet, slurping sounds of his tongue are completely obscene in the quietness of the room. Your breath comes in short pants as you grind against his tongue.

“Fuck,” Taehyung pulls away and presses kisses against your thighs, “Princess, you taste so good. I knew you would, but fuck.“

He leans back in and licks a wide strip up your slit before sucking on your clit softly. You can feel the heat inside you building rapidly, your legs start shaking the more intense it gets. Taehyung stops abruptly and sits up on his knees.

"You wanna come princess?” His eyes lock with yours as he licks his glistening lips.

“P-please Taehyung,” You reach out for him, “Please make me come. I need it."

You watch as he unbuckles his belt slowly, before sliding his pants and boxers down low enough for him to free himself. His thick cock already flushed pink and dripping pre-cum.

"Princess, you don’t have to beg. I will never deny you anything." He crawls up your body, rubbing his sticky cock against the lips of your cunt, "You’re so hot and wet. I bet you’ll squeeze me so good when I’m inside you."

Your breath hitches when you feel the head of his cock enter you. Taehyung stills and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "Fuck baby, You’re so fucking tight. I’m barely in and you are squeezing me so good.” You grasp his biceps and roll your hips up into him, feeling him sink all the way into you with a desperate groan. The stretch burns in a good way and you feel so full it’s almost overwhelming.

“T-Tae,” You gasp into his mouth, your pussy clenching every time he enters you, already on the brink of orgasm, “I’m so close. I’m so, so close."

“I know baby, I know. I want you to come all over me. Can you do that baby?” Taehyung gives a particularly hard thrust, “Can you come for me? Can I feel you?”

You nod your head, unable to form words. The tight coil in your stomach is so close to breaking. “Please Tae,” Your words come out in a keening whine, “It feels so good…ah, fuck… so so good.”

Taehyung moves one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up to deeper penetration. His hand slips down and presses against your clit in firm circles as he thrusts harder.

“Fuck princess, you’re soaked. You’re so warm and wet. You’re so fucking tight and once you come you’re going to feel even tighter.”

His words cause you to come with an almost violent shudder, the intense sensation bordering on painful. Your cry is swallowed by Taehyung’s kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth as his thrusts slow down. You can feel more than hear him groan into the kiss.

“I knew it baby. I knew you would be tighter. Fuck!” He punctuates his words with a hard thrust, “You are so fucking perfect. So beautiful. Princess I’m gonna fill you to the brim. I’m gonna come so deep inside of you that you’ll feel me for days and then I’m gonna fill you up again.”

You give a full body shudder at the promise in his voice as his thrusts turn sloppy before he stills completely. You can feel him pulsing inside you, his warmth flooding you. Taehyung slowly sits back on his knees and slides his cock out, his gaze almost possessive as he watches thick streams of his come slip out of you.  

“You are such a good girl. You took my cock so well. So sweet and soft and so fucking pink.”

You feel yourself flush at his praise, the affection in his voice blatant. He stands up and quickly pulls his pants back up before leaning down to give you a slow, sweet kiss before reluctantly pulling away, “You. Are. Everything.”

You keep your eyes closed when Taehyung breaks the kiss, hearing the door close quietly when he leaves the room. You try to catch your breath, your muscles feel boneless from the incredible orgasm you just had.

“Do you like it?”

You startle at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, forgetting that he was even in the room. His voice is emotionless almost bordering on angry… or something else. You sit up quickly and see him shirtless sitting in the corner of the room.

“Do you like knowing that you have seven men willing to do anything for you? Seven men who are completely wrapped around your finger?” He stands up and walks towards you, unbuckling his belt, “Seven men completely, irrevocably in love with you?”

“What? What are you talking about? Seven men?” You sit up slightly and reach for the sheet, “What are you talking about?”

“You think Taehyung is the only one that has been dying to get between your pretty thighs?”

“Are you mad at me? I only did what you asked of me.” You go to pull the sheet up to cover yourself, but Yoongi pulls it away.

“No baby, I’m not mad. Not mad at all,” Yoongi gives you a reassuring smile and slides his pants down, his cock bouncing against his abdomen,”It was amazing. Watching you come. Seeing you filled like that. You’re still all nice and wet, aren’t you? I bet you’re hot and sticky and ready for me to slide right inside.”  

“Is that what you want Yoongi?”

You lean back on your arms and spread your legs, knowing Taehyung’s release was still dribbling out of you, “You want to slide inside? You think you could fill me up better than he did?”

He ignores the challenge in your voice, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. He licks his lips and gives his cock a long, hard tug. He puts one knee on the bed and leans down to stare directly at your messy cunt. You shift slightly and spread your legs wider, watching his nostrils flare at the scent of yours and Taehyung’s combined releases.

“Pretty as a picture.” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse, his fingers reaching out to scoop up some of Taehyung’s come and smear it over your pussy lips, “You’re such a dirty girl, spread open and dripping come from another man.”

“You love it.”

Yoongi grins up at you before climbing up your body, rubbing his cock against your come covered cunt. You both groan at the sensation, before Yoongi begins leaving hot, wet kisses against your throat. “You’re perfect baby. So fucking perfect. Tae was right about that.”

He continues grinding against you, your pussy lips cradling his cock between them. Your hands squeeze at his biceps, trying to press yourself closer to him. The thick head of his dick rubbing against your clit.

“You’re so fucking hot. So warm. So sticky and swollen. Fuck baby! I’m gonna come all over this pussy. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

The grinding is so slow now it’s almost at a standstill, both of your bodies slick with sweat and fluids, you’re shivering from your impending orgasm. “You won’t fill me up? You won’t give me what I need?” Your voice comes out in a breathy gasp.

“Such a greedy girl you are. Wanting all my come after you got all of Taehyung’s. I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“Please,” You cry out, you’re so close to coming you could cry, “I’ve been such a good girl. I’ve been so good.”

The slippery wetness of your cunt still filled with Taehyung’s come and dripping with Yoongi’s pre-cum makes loud squelching noises in the room. ”Listen to how messy you are baby. So fucking dirty. You’re such a dirty girl. You gonna milk me baby? You gonna let me come all up inside your sloppy cunt?”

You can barely get out a breathy yes before Yoongi is pushing into you, triggering your most intense orgasm of the night. You can’t help the shudder that rushes through your body, your muscles clenching so tightly around Yoongi’s thick length that it immediately triggers his own release.

“Fuck! Baby… God Damn! Yes, yes… just like that baby girl. You take my cock so good. Let me fill up this tight pussy. So fucking good baby. So good.”

He continues to push inside of you in slow, lazy thrusts. You can feel the come slipping out around him coating your thighs and the sheets underneath you. Yoongi stops completely before sitting back up on his knees, his cock slipping from you with wet plop. You feel a sense of deja-vu with the way that he is staring at your come drenched cunt, almost of a mirror image of Taehyung from earlier.

“So gorgeous. You’re so fucking gorgeous. God, I love you baby.” His hand reaches out to gently pet your swollen folds, “So perfect baby.”

“So perfect.”

[jeontaeh]

〚THIRTY EIGHT〛

Taehyung looked at the black haired boy standing by the door, his eyes wide, angry, and wow Taehyung had never seen Jungkook so fucking angry. Jungkook walked into the locker room, fingers twitching. Jimin walked in silently, wanting to know what was up.

"We were wrestling." Sehun blurted out, and Jungkook's eyes went dark, head low.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you??" Jungkook shouted, and Sehun gulped.

"Jungkook I-I-" Sehun began, and Taehyung looked at Jungkook and realized Jungkook was looking at him. Jungkook was talking to him. Sehun looked as well, confused.

"Why the fuck were the two of you kissing?" Jungkook snapped at Taehyyung- who widened his eyes.

"Jungkook, wait- I didn't kiss him! He-" Taehyung began, and Jungkook reached forward and shoved him against the wall.

"You always fucking do this, Taehyung. I trust you one second, and then-"

"Taehyung?" Sehun let out, voice low now. Jimin put his hand over his mouth. "Wait- he's the one dude whose name you moaned while we were having sex??" Sehun snapped.

Taehyung froze. Jungkook turned around, and Taehyung smiled to himself a little. "I-I was?" Taehyung whispered, a little happy by this sudden happening.

"Oh, shut up!" Jungkook snapped. "Why the fuck were you kissing him?"

"I-" Sehun began, and then groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I don't know! I just... I was mad because you-you were totally ignoring me for this guy. And then you moaned some guy's name during sex, Jungkook. I was really fucking pissed but I didn't wanna show it. So- so-"

"So you decided to cheat on me?" Jungkook asked, voice dripping with anger. Sehun gulped, looking down.

"No! I-it just happened! V was here- and then- I don't know. It seemed like he was into it." Sehun mumbled.

"What the fuck? No, the fuck I wasn't. I'm straight, dipshit-" Taehyung began, and Jungkook turned around and Taehyung closed his mouth.

"You shut the fuck up," Jungkook growled, and Taehyung nodded, feeling weirdly intimidated. Jungkook looked at Sehun. "Fuck you."

"Jungkook- listen. I-" Sehun began, wearily. "I didn't mean to. I swear. I just- I was really upset today! You called me a turtle fart, dude. It hurt. You were so touchy with V, but then get scared when I do anything. So- so-"

"Why me, though?" Taehyung mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "Couldn't you have hit it on Jimin or something? I mean... seems more your type." Taehyung continued, and Jimin had his eyes widened still, a look of disbelief and complete flabbergast on his face. Like bitch he could not believe what the fuck was going on.

Sehun blushed at that. "I-I don't know. Shut up." Sehun said in a small voice, and Jungkook rose his eyebrow.

"You wanted me to top that day, didn't you?" Jungkook said. Taehyung turned around, eyes widening. Upon hearing what Jungkook said, Taehyung had to bite onto his knuckles- to not burst out laughing.

"Shut up," Sehun said quickly, looking away.

"You wanted V to FUCK you!" Jungkook accused, and Sehun blushed harder. "Shut up!!"

"Fuck." Taehyung blurted out, letting out a snicker. Jungkook and Sehun and Jimin looked at him, and Taehyung couldn't control- he doubled over in laughing, clutching his stomach and wheezing onto the floor.

"Sehun we'll talk about this later. Or never. I don't know. Just- get out. Go to practice. I came here because I got you those fucking cookies from the cafeteria. But fuck you." Jungkook grumbled, emotionless. Sehun nodded and rushed out of the locker room, looking embarrassed.

Jimin looked at Taehyung who was clutching the bench and laughing his ass off, practically on the floor now. Jungkook was looking at him with red in his eyes. "I'll go," Jimin said softly, and then walked out.

Jimin felt the two alone, and then instantly took his phone out.

Jimin bitch i have so much shit i need to tell you

Eka fuck football practice. behind the girls locker room. 5 mins. i need tea.

Jimin i have a fucking gallon.

Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who was laughing really hard, clutching onto his jersey. Taehyung looked at Jungkook standing there, a blank expression on his face, and bit his lip, trying to stop giggling.

"I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry- it's just. Fuck. Just. Fucking Sehun. He-" Taehyung started, and then put his hand over his mouth, trying to not laugh.

Jungkook didn't say anything. Taehyung shook his head. "Fuck. It's not funny. Sorry." Taehyung gulped, and then looked at Jungkook.

Jungkook burst out laughing, putting his hand over his mouth.

Taehyung looked at him and widened his eyes, smiling a little and then giggling to. He walked up to Jungkook. "Fuck, Kook- I'm sorry but that's so funny. Your boyfriend literally- he-" Taehyung started, but then moved closer to Jungkook.

He wasn't laughing. He was crying.

"Kook?" Taehyung asked, voice softening. Taehyung pulled his hands off his face, and then lifted his chin up and saw the red in the boy's eyes, tears streaming down his face. "Hey- hey, don't cry over this-"

"Don't-" Jungkook began softly, and Taehyung shook his head. "No no- you shouldn't cry over this! It's stupid! Look, you're so much better than him-"

"Tae, d-don't-" Jungkook hiccuped lightly, trying to pull his wrists out of Taehyung's restraint. Taehyung left them but then gripped his waist, pulling him a bit closer in.

"Kookie," Taehyung said, confused when the boy kept crying. "Let me take you to your room. You need some water- some- some of those cookies you got-"

"T-Taehyung stop-" Jungkook said weakly, and Taehyung looked at him closely, frowning. "What? What happened? I-"

"Stop fucking touching m-me!" Jungkook shouted, pushing Taehyung back roughly and making him stumble back.

Taehyung's eyes widened, looking at Jungkook in confusion, discomposed. Jungkook brought his shaking hands up to his face to wipe his tears away, and Taehyung fish mouthed for a few seconds. He gulped. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't. Just. Please. Don't touch me." Jungkook squeaked out, and Taehyung frowned at him.

"I won't. I-" Taehyung reached forward. "Tell me what's wrong, Kookie. You can't be this upset over something like this, right?" Taehyung said, and then saw the way Jungkook moved back from him.

Taehyung let out a weak chuckle. "Hey- I-I'm not going to hurt you-"

Jungkook flinched when Taehyung moved forward a bit fast, stumbling back and hitting a wall behind him. Jungkook looked scared. Really scared. Taehyung gulped back the lump in his throat and moved away from Jungkook, eyes big.

Taehyung looked at Jungkook for a few seconds. Jungkook stayed silent, eyes wide and gleaming with tears. "W-why is it always you?" Jungkook let out in a pitiful voice, and Taehyung looked.

"Me?" Taehyung asked.

Jungkook shook his head to himself. "You were an asshole to me. You treated me like crap. You were an insensitive piece of shit and never r-realised I had feelings too." Jungkook said, voice drawling, soft, hasty, looking away.

Taehyung tensed. Jungkook bit his lip. "You cuddled me every fucking night for weeks, Taehyung," Jungkook said suddenly, closing his eyes, tears rising beneath closed eyelids. "You c-called me your baby and- and asked m-me to never leave your side," Jungkook said weakly.

Taehyung kept silent. "Only to call me a fucking mistake and tell me I'm the worst thing that happened to you because Jimin found out."

Taehyung looked away, regret and guilt filling his insides. "I-I k-know. I was diff-"

"You got m-mad wen I started flirting with Yugyeom. You got r-riled up- and fuck, fuck it was my fucking fault because I tried to make you jealous. Used Yugyeom to- to make you pay attention to me because I was so fucking into you-" Jungkook breathed deeply, and then bit his lip, voice shaky. "And then you kissed me. You kissed me that night at the barbeque-"

"Jungkook I'm sorry, I-" Taehyung tried.

"I'm not done talking!" Jungkook shouted, and Taehyung moved back, head kept low. Jungkook looked back ahead, eyes going blurry.

"The next d-day. I thought maybe. Maybe I'd get that asshole who fucked with my feelings and only cared about my ass- maybe I'd get him back." Jungkook said, and then began laughing, realizing his own words. "But you asked E-Eka out. Told everyone you really liked her, right V?"

"Don't call me t-that, Jungkook-"

"And then you texted me all winter break and sent me those godforsaken goodnight messages every fucking day, didn't you?" Jungkook said, trembling. "And then school restarted and you went back to treating me like a fucking piece of shit and then you couldn't keep your fucking dick in your pants, could you?!" Jungkook said, louder, anger taking over him.

"And- of course. Of course, after finding that out I realized I wanted you to be fucked over. I wanted to hurt you s-so- so fucking bad, Tae. But then w-what? What happened? Everything became f-fine, didn't it? We came back from t-the championship and you told me you liked me, didn't you Tae?" Jungkook said, walking closer to him.

Taehyung looked down, fists clenched. "You told me you liked me. Do you know how h-happy I was?" Jungkook asked, eyes glistening, tilting his head. Taehyung looked at him, not wanting to look into his brown eyes.

"All my fucking life I've not been given a-any attention by anyone? That for- for once I thought. Damn. Maybe someone cares and w-wants me. Maybe that piece of fucking shit who only cares about fucking people actually wants me-"

"Jungkook-" Taehyung tried, voice meek.

"I t-thought maybe. Maybe after he hurts me a thousand times, maybe after he calls me a mistake a thousand times, maybe after he punches me in the stomach a thousand times-"

"J-Jungkook you know I-I didn't mean to do that-" Taehyung breathed out, feeling his insides growing anxious again.

"Taehyung don't you realize how wrong you are for me?" Jungkook asked, voice parched. "Please. Please just l-let me move on from you. Please." Jungkook said weakly, voice small.

Taehyung gulped. He saw Jungkook close his eyes, looking helpless. "Please. Stop b-being my friend. I'm sorry. I can't have y-you around me. It can n-never work. You're too-" Jungkook began, and then Taehyung saw a tear fall down his eye. "You're t-too much."

"B-but Kookie I want us to be friends-"

"I don't," Jungkook said, shaking. "Please."

Taehyung looked away, gripping his hand tightly. He felt so fucking selfish, so fucking arrogant, so fucking terrible. Jungkook didn't want him to be close, but Taehyung didn't want to let him go.

That whole day earlier. Jungkook looked so happy whenever Taehyung touched him or called him cute or something. Taehyung didn't want to be away from Jungkook. He didn't.

"I like Sehun." Jungkook let out, and Taehyung looked at him. "I like him. I w-want to like him more. You j-just. You fuck me up, V. You're not good for me."

"O-okay." Taehyung nodded. "Okay. I-I'll leave you. I'm sorry." Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked down, sitting down on one of the benches, knees tucked, tears falling down his cheeks. Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds and then walked up to him.

"T-Tae-" Jungkook said, but then Taehyung kneeled down to the floor to face him. Taehyung lifted his chin up, looking up at the boy with gleaming eyes.

"Don't," Jungkook said, and Taehyung sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Taehyung whispered, and Jungkook put his hand on Taehyung's. "I r-ruin everything. I'm so fucking sorry."

Jungkook shook his head, looking away, trying not to look at Taehyung's eyes. "I know," Jungkook whispered feebly.

Taehyung couldn't help it. He cupped his jaw with one hand, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jungkook pushed him away- or at least tried to- but only felt himself tightening his grasp around Taehyung's shirt.

"N-no. No Tae- this-this is what I mean. We a-always do this-" Jungkook breathed out, and Taehyung looked at him closely, their noses touching.

"I know," Taehyung said, voice small. "I just can't h-help my self with you."

"I can't either. That's why we need to stay a-away. We can't j-just go back to being friends. It's too late for that."

Taehyung closed his eyes, taking in Jungkook's scent. Taehyung felt that comfort. That comfort he only found in the deepest of his heart when he was with Jungkook. That comfort of his soft, flowery scent, his warm small hands, his hushed, pliant words. Everything about him.

Taehyung felt a physical ache in his body with Jungkook's words. To stay away. Taehyung knew he had to. Jungkook was right. When they were close like this, even if further away, they couldn't help themselves.

There had to be touching, whispering, soft murmurs and blushing. Traces of fingers on thighs and gentle giggles tinging down spines. Words full of youthful, mirthful adoration had to be exchanged, it couldn't be helped. It just couldn't.

Staying away was the only possible way for both of them to somehow move on from this mess.

But when Jungkook shook his head and moved away from Taehyung, Taehyung realized. When Jungkook got up from the bench and mumbled something about having to go, Taehyung realized. When Taehyung called out and told the boy he'd broken over and over again that he was sorry, the boy looked at him and nodded.

"I know you are." Jungkook had whispered softly.

That's when Taehyung had realized. When Jungkook walked out the door of the locker room, the place where it all began for the two of them, where they were just lustful and hateful, wanting each other like hyperactive puppies- that's when Taehyung realized.

He was so in love with Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung closed his eyes, getting up from the locker room that seemed too stiff and walked out. He saw Eka and Jimin, both looking a bit troubled.

"V," Jimin said, voice hushed. Taehyung opened his mouth to say something, but Jimin shook his head. "Let him go this time. It's for your own good." Jimin said, gentle, eyes worried.

Taehyung nodded. He went back to his dorm later, the sky thundering outside, rain splattering on his window. His clothes were wet from walking in while it was drizzling. Taehyung opened the closet, and then saw how neat it was.

Taehyung took a deep breath, pulling a shirt out of his closet along with sweatpants and closing the door sharply. He looked at his bed which was facing a small tv he had in his room and felt his mind wander.

"Killed that dude. Hm- yes! Killed that dude too. Oh fuck- fucking OBLITERATED that dude. HAHAHA. Little bitch. Fucking 5 kills in one, woot!" Taehyung snarked, smirking while moving his thumbs quite quickly on his controller.

"You're being loud.." A voice came, and Taehyung looked up and saw Jungkook who was sitting on his lap, his head resting against Taehyung's shoulder. Jungkook's eyes were drowsy, cheeks puffy, blinking slowly.

Taehyung looked at him for a few seconds and then smiled. "Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to wake you up. I'll be softer."

Jungkook hummed, nodding, and then tucked his head on Taehyung's broad shoulder again, letting his eyes drift close. "You didn't get good sleep last night, baby?"

"No.." Jungkook squeaked, gripping Taehyung's shirt. "So much work in art. M'tired..." Jungkook whined, closing his eyes again, pouting.

"You sleep, Kookie. I'll be quiet." Taehyung said softly. Taehyung kissed his puffy cheek, and Jungkook hummed, stirring back into sleep.

Taehyung began playing again and then saw that some dude came out of nowhere on the small screen and shot up. "Fuck!" Taehyung shouted without realizing, and Jungkook got startled and snapped his head up.

"Ah!" Jungkook squealed, and Taehyung started giggling fondly at his response. Jungkook started hitting Taehyung with his fists, and Taehyung giggled, chucking his controller to the side and hugging him tightly, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"I hate you," Jungkook mumbled.

"Hmmm," Taehyung said, hugging him tightly, feeling comfortable with the boy in his arms.

Jungkook caressed Taehyung's shirt in his hands and went sleepy in his hold again, closing his eyes and falling asleep with his head atop Taehyung's. Taehyung felt a weird fuzzy feeling in his chest and leaned up and kissed Jungkook's cheek.

"Cutie," Taehyung whispered, and Jungkook fell asleep. Taehyung held him for a few more minutes and then lay him down on his bed, putting the blanket over him and tucking him in.

"Taehyungie... cuddle?" Jungkook asked, biting his lip, clearly very sleepy. Taehyung ruffled his hair.

"Makin' it gay, Jeon," Taehyung said, turning around to walk into the washroom.

Jungkook rolled over, scrunching up into a small ball. Taehyung returned after a few minutes, putting his hand over Jungkook's waist and chin on his shoulder. Taehyung didn't overthink the fact that the two of them were cuddling. It just... felt right.

Jungkook smiled to himself, turning around and pressing his head to Taehyung's chest. Taehyung kissed his forehead.

He didn't know what that feeling was back then. That fuzzy feeling he got every time Jungkook did anything. He thought it was just his insides being weird, his brain wanting to be with Jungkook. He didn't realize there was a reason why.

Everything would go to shit now, however. Taehyung doesn't think there's any coming back from what happened.

Some stories just don't have happy endings, it seems.

///

Weeks passed.

Taehyung was sitting with Yoongi and Namjoon, laughing at them bickering over some dumb shit. Taehyung caught a glimpse of Jungkook walking away, his brain hair looking soft as usual, oversized white school shirt on, along with the tight school trousers.

Taehyung watched with a lessening smile as Sehun walked up to Jungkook, wrapped his arm around Jungkook's waist and kissed his temple. Jungkook smiled up at him and both walked towards the table where Jimin and Eka were seated.

Jungkook and Sehun got back together after a few days of that fight. Taehyung didn't know why. He asked Jimin, who said they sorted stuff out. Taehyung wanted to know more but didn't push it.

Distance. Taehyung didn't know how he felt about it. He was putting his time and effort into studying and football, to do anything to keep his mind off whatever was going on. A new girl was messaging him constantly, very clearly hitting on him. Taehyung just... didn't want to do anything. It felt wrong, for some reason.

After lunch, the class was English. Taehyung walked to class and sat down in the back as usual. He saw Jungkook and Sehun walk in after a bit, and Taehyung ignored them, as usual.

"Okay, Sehun. I get it." Jungkook mumbled, sitting down on his seat.

"Jungkook, I'm just saying. If you want a good grade on your artwork then you should ask to pick another idea. You can't do much with this one-" Sehun began, but Jungkook looked up.

"Shut up," Jungkook mumbled, and Sehun bit the inside of his cheek.

"I-"

"Will you stop pestering me? For fuck's sake!" Jungkook snapped, and some people looked to see what was going on. Sehun looked a little confused.

"Um. Okay. Sorry." Sehun mumbled off-handedly, turning around to walk out of the classroom and go to his.

Taehyung watched as Jungkook took a pencil out, grumbling to himself. Taehyung's breath hitched, and then he saw Jimin walk into the classroom. "Kookie! Hey, Eka and I were looking for you. Where did you-"

"Can I not be alone for 5 seconds?" Jungkook asked, voice snappy. Jimin frowned.

"Oh. Sorry. We just wanted to hang out." Jimin said, and then sat down. "You good?"

"Fine," Jungkook said, continuing to doodle on his notebook.

Class started and finished quite quickly. They learned about whatever book they were studying. Taehyung saw Jungkook silent- when usually he speaks up quite a lot in class, giving all his ideas and finding the discussions quite interesting. In the middle of class, some girl sitting in front of Jungkook asked him for a pencil, and he told her to eat his ass.

After class finished, Jungkook got up and left, angry. Jimin sighed. Taehyung walked up to him. "Is he... okay?"

"I don't know. He's been really snappy and rude for the past few weeks. He keeps disappearing after classes and at lunch. I don't know what the hell's going on." Jimin said.

"Is it something about Sehun? Maybe- maybe he's being rude to Jungkook? I'll go beat him up." Taehyung said, and Jimin giggled.

"Don't beat Sehun up. I feel kind of bad for him. He keeps trying to make Jungkook smile, but Jungkook gets mad at him and brings up him cheating every time he tries anything. Sehun doesn't want to fight, so he just stays quiet." Jimin mumbled. Taehyung frowned to himself.

"That doesn't sound like Jungkook," Taehyung said. Jimin hummed.

"I'm sure it's just his upcoming art exam that's coming up. He's been freaking out over it." Jimin explained. Taehyung nodded to himself.

"I'll see you. Bye!" Jimin said, walking out. Taehyung waved at him and then wondered to himself. Jungkook keeps disappearing.

Now, it's been weeks, and Jungkook did tell Taehyung to stay away. Was very adamant about it. They hadn't spoken or made eye contact for weeks. Nothing.

Taehyung walked out of class and walked to the fourth floor. He paced down the hallways and reached outside their room. The hidden art room.

Taehyung shouldn't. He really shouldn't. It's none of his business. But when he heard noises from the other side of the room, he opened the door and saw Jungkook sitting by the window sill on the counter.

Jungkook wasn't even looking at the door. He already knew who was the other person that could come here. "I told you not to come to me."

"I saw what happened in English."

"It's none of your business," Jungkook said, picking on his fingers. "Seriously, just leave-"

"Why were you being mean to Sehun? He was being nice to you." Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked at him, tense. "Jimin too. And that girl."

"Tae. The two of us aren't friends anymore." Jungkook said, and Taehyung walked up to him and then hummed.

"You're never mean," Taehyung said, and Jungkook paused. "You're the nicest person I know. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Jungkook looked away. Taehyung put his hands on either side of Jungkook's thighs. Jungkook sighed, closing his eyes. "Tae. You can't-"

"Kookie," Taehyung said, leaning in. Jungkook leaned back. "Something's troubling you. You never snap at anyone. It's not right to be mean to people, is it?" Taehyung said gently, and Jungkook scoffed.

"Fucking ironic coming from you-"

Taehyung chuckled, which made Jungkook pause. "You're all pent up, Kookie. Talk to me. Let it out." Taehyung said, tracing his finger on his thigh. Jungkook's fingers twitched.

Jungkook looked away, looking upset, gulping. Taehyung frowned. "You always told me everything."

"That was before," Jungkook said. "I know, But you said I was a good listener. Go on." Taehyung said, nudging him along.

When Jungkook didn't say anything, Taehyung climbed atop the counter. Jungkook let out a squeak of surprise and then saw Taehyung sit down beside him, looking out at the window, onto the field where people were playing football for fun.

Jungkook closed his eyes, looked like he was trying really hard to fight an urge, and then leaned to the side and leaned on Taehyung's shoulder. When he did that, he breathed out, looking more comfortable.

"My parents," Jungkook mumbled, eyes closed. Taehyung put an arm around his waist, and Jungkook only leaned into the touch. "My dad called me. Asked me if this gay stuff was over and I was done being a nuisance."

"Dads suck," Taehyung said, Jungkook giggled out.

"I told him I'm still gay, because, I am. And I don't know. He and mom got into a fight while talking to me. Mom kept saying it's fine, that me being gay won't change anything. That I could still run the business. I said I didn't want to run the business. I wanted to do art. And then my mom started yelling at me too, and-"

"Listen, no one can plan shit out," Taehyung said, and Jungkook looked at him. "Your parents can say all they want, but they won't have control over you once you're in college. Or out of it. Your life isn't theirs. Of course, they'll push their shit onto you- but they'll realize too." Taehyung said, and Jungkook bit his lip.

"You think so? I don't wanna do business, Tae. I wanna- wanna do art psychology." Jungkook hummed, and Taehyung looked at him, saw his eyes all big and doey. "Isn't that nice? It sounds so fun! I can use art in daily life!" Jungkook said with a smile.

Taehyung smiled, and then reached forward and touched his chin with his thumb. "See. You're fine. Got all angered over nothing," Taehyung snickered, and Jungkook blushed lightly.

"Funny coming from you. Mr. Meanie." Jungkook said, and Taehyung smirked.

"That's your only name for me, huh? Sehun looked like he was about to cry, Jungkookie." Taehyung said, and Jungkook hit his chest lightly, leaning in closer to him.

"He's fine. He's being kind of annoying, to be honest." Jungkook said. "He thinks he knows my art stuff better than I do because- because he's got 9 awards for it or something." Jungkook rolled his eyes.

"He's too perfect." Taehyung pointed out. "Also he cheated on you."

Jungkook giggled. "Eh, we talked through it. He said it was an accident. Didn't mean to ask you to fuck him." Jungkook said, and Taehyung laughed.

"Good. I got de ja vu to our first time-" Taehyung began, and Jungkook started laughing.

"Please! You were the one begging to fuck me," Jungkook said, looking at Taehyung. Taehyung turned to look at him, gasping out.

"Oh please. I remember exactly what happened. You said I had a small dick, I said I had a big one, and then you said prove it. So I did." Taehyung tsked, and Jungkook started giggling.

Taehyung heard Jungkook's giggles and felt that tense discomfort he'd been feeling for the past few weeks going away. It also felt nice, because, in a weird way, it made him realize Taehyung needed Jungkook for comfort. But Jungkook needed Taehyung too.

"Did you top Sehun?" Taehyung asked.

Jungkook shuddered. "No. He said he was being weird. I said I didn't want to top him. That's kind of mean, now that I think about it..." Jungkook trailed, and Taehyung started laughing.

"Poor guy. Tough luck, he's dating the biggest pillow princess in the school-"

Jungkook whacked Taehyung's chest with a gasp, and Taehyung wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him between his legs. Jungkook got dragged onto his lap and let out a squeal of protect, but Taehyung squeezed him in his grasp and then saw Jungkook look at him.

Jungkook's smile wore off slowly when he realized what they were doing. "Tae-"

Taehyung leaned forward, kissing Jungkook's cheek. Jungkook tsked, gripping his shirt and shaking his head. Taehyung kissed the corner of his cheek, keeping his lips on his face. Jungkook didn't pull away.

"I told you to stay away. This is exactly why." Jungkook muttered.

"Why?" Taehyung asked, breathless. "We're so fucking good together." Lips tingled on Jungkook's cheek.

"We're terrible together. All you do is hurt me."

"I won't anymore," Taehyung said, kissing Jungkook's cheek. Jungkook pushed him off, getting off the counter.

"That's what you always say," Jungkook said, and Taehyung hopped off the counter and rushed forward to wrap his arms around Jungkook's waist, back hugging him.

"Don't you- don't you wish we never fucked sometimes?" Taehyung whispered. "We wouldn't be so messed up."

"All the time," Jungkook said, voice small.

Taehyung turned Jungkook around. "I know you told me to stay away. But- but look- you were feeling bad. But I made you feel better, didn't I?"

"That doesn't mean anything," Jungkook said, shaking his head. "Tae seriously, I told you not to do this-"

Taehyung kissed his jaw. Jungkook gripped his shoulders, feeling Taehyung pull his lips away and then leaning up and kissing Taehyung's chin. Taehyung gripped Jungkook's waist.

"No," Jungkook said, pulling away, but Taehyung pulled him back towards him.

"We should stop." Taehyung breathed out, kissing up Jungkook's neck.

"This is exactly fucking why I said you need t-to stay away from me-" Jungkook growled, and then jumped up and let Taehyung pick him up and place him onto the table, sandwiching himself between his legs.

"Is my dick bigger than his?" Taehyung asked, kissing his collarbone.

"Much," Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung unbuttoned Jungkook's school shirt, kissing his chest. Taehyung felt himself losing control, wanting to be inside Jungkook, craved it.

"Fuck-" Jungkook said, and then pushed Taehyung away. "We can't do this! Oh my god- why-why do we always end up doing this? See what I mean, Tae? You're nothing but sexually attracted to me! There's no feelings-"

"That's- um- not true," Taehyung said, and Jungkook scoffed. He jumped off the table. "It's true, Taehyung. Just- stay- stay away from me."

"Kook-"

"No, Tae- it's bigger than what you think it is," Jungkook snapped. "It's not just about me being mad at you. It's- I'm- I'm scared." Jungkook let out.

"Scared?" Taehyung asked.

"Scared you'll hurt me again. You'll pick me up and break me again. You'll kiss me and throw me away again. You'll fuck me and call me a faggot again." Jungkook said, quickly, out of breath. "And- I'm more scared of-of the future."

"W-what?" Taehyung asked, frowning a little. Jungkook gulped, taking a step back.

"What if-if in the future? We're together a-and... I-I don't know. You get mad at me or something." Jungkook said in a small voice. "You see your dad again. You see someone again. Something happens-"

"What are you saying?"

"What if you get mad at me and hit me again?" Jungkook let out, and Taehyung tensed.

Taehyung ducked his head. He wondered if Jungkook thought that. Now knowing Jungkook did, it made everything so so much fucking worse.

"I wouldn't-"

"I d-don't know that," Jungkook said timidly. "I just. I don't trust you, Tae. I'm sorry."

Jungkook then reached for the art room door. "Look at us, for fuck's sake! We can't be in the same room for more than five seconds without being all over each other!"

"I-It's because we're- we're supposed to be together, baby-"

"Tae please!" Jungkook cried loudly, and then stilled, gulping. Jungkook gripped the door handle. "I-I-I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm really f-fucking scared of you." Jungkook said. "For m-my mental and physical health. Please. Stay away. For the last fucking time." Jungkook squeaked out weakly, and then turned around and rushed out.

Taehyung was frozen. I'm really f-fucking scared of you.

It made him want to hurt himself. He didn't want Jungkook to be scared of him. He didn't want Jungkook to have that rational fear of being hurt by Taehyung.

Why the fuck couldn't things just... get better?

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647264932180754432/thirty-nine

[nahmooste]

Why We Lose, pt. 1

pairing/s: Tetsuya Naito / Female OC, BUSHI / Female OC warnings: manipulation, cheating, swearing, mostly sfw a/n: here’s another multi-chap fic involving my favourite asshole, other members of LIJ, and an appearance from the IWGP champ in the next part. i’m excited to write this! also Hena is lowkey crazy, but it’s fun writing her :^) tags: @wrestlingismyfavourite @devittsbalor @fireangel1978 @laziestgirlintheworld @ghostofviper @onewingedgloria @littleblueghostspoon @narwhalneglect @princesstoniii @keltic-goddess

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, shorts slung ridiculously low and shirt barely covering her stomach, and something about the way she’s standing gathers Tetsuya Naito’s attention entirely. He glances up at her from his televised baseball game, frowns a little. As if he’s confused. As if he has the right to be confused. “What?”

She shoves her phone in his face, squeezes it so tightly her knuckles are white. “What the fuck’s this, huh?”

He inspects the photo closely for a second, an eyebrow lifting to his hairline. He knows exactly what it is. She can see it on his face, in the way his eyes are emotionless. Tossing the phone down onto the couch, she slaps him hard enough that his head snaps to the side. He thumbs the corner of his mouth, trails his tongue along his lip.

“Wanna explain to me why you’re stupid enough to get caught sucking face with some fucking slut?!”

“Hena…”

“Don’t Hena me, you piece of shit!” She yells at him, slaps him again. “I’m your wife! I don’t care what the fuck you do on tour as long as you come home to me, but this? This, Tetsuya? I knew you were a womaniser but I didn’t think you were a dumbass.”

She wants to scream at him more, tell him to get the fuck out of her life, but the honest truth is that Hena loves him. She’s married him. She knew what Tetsuya Naito was like before she said yes to him, even before she started dating. She’s made a somewhat honest man out of him— out of sight, out of mind, she thinks. But the photo— the fact that Tetsuya was reckless enough to do something like that… it makes her see red.

But she’s slapped him twice. Ignited a fire in him which almost matches hers in intensity. His ears, underneath that mane of orange hair, are bright red. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter, Tetsuya.”

Naito launches out of his seat and stands nose to nose with her, makes her crane her head back so she doesn’t wither under his imposing figure. He raises a hand to her neck and presses his thumb right into her throat. “I bought this house. Everything in it, too. And I married you, so if I’m not mistaken… everything under this roof belongs to me. Slap me one more time and you’ll have nothing.”

He lets her go so suddenly that goosebumps raise on her arms. Naito sits back down on the couch and resumes watching his game, looks so unbothered by everything that’s just happened that Hena almost can’t believe it. “You’re not even going to apologise?”

Silence is his answer.

She snatches her phone from the couch and storms to their room, chucks on a light jacket and grabs her purse before stalking back through the living room to the front door.

“Where are you going?” Naito calls out to her, and he stares after her in a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Somewhere you’re not. If you won’t leave, I will.”

Hena yanks the front door open and is gone before her husband can run after her.

Honestly, she doesn’t even know where she’s going. All she knows is that she’s angry and the only way to make Naito see how bad he’s fucked up is to make him jealous, which he hasn’t been for a very long time. And Hena isn’t stupid; she knows that she’s attractive, otherwise Naito wouldn’t have stuck with her this long. She knows there’s some jealousy on the other end of the Los Ingobernables members— it’s why she isn’t allowed to drink with them. Because, just like her husband, when Hena gets drunk… she gets handsy. With everyone.

And as she’s trying to formulate a plan of revenge in her head, Hena can’t help but stop at Bushi. At Hiromu. Tetsuya’s brothers, almost. And attractive, she admits.

It doesn’t take too long for the taxi to arrive at Bushi’s apartment.

She waits for someone to exit the building and sneaks in, smiles at the guard who stares at her suspiciously. She presses the button for Bushi’s level and when she knocks at his door, it doesn’t take too long for him to answer.

“Hena?” He frowns, caution evident on his features as he glances out into the hall for any sign of his leader. “Where’s Tetsuya?”

“At home,” she says lowly. “I just… needed someone to talk to.”

She knows that what she’s doing is manipulative. That the boys might hate her after this, but she’s so, so incredibly beyond mad that she doesn’t care. She wants Naito to hurt. She wants him to hurt like he made her hurt.

Bushi pulls the door open wider for her and ushers her in, asks if she wants a glass of water or anything, and she turns down his kind offer. “Just a shoulder,” she says, sitting down on the edge of his L shaped couch. He sits diagonal to her, knee gently bumping hers.

“What’s wrong?”

Hena meets his concerned eyes for a moment before dropping staring at the floor. “He’s an asshole. He was stupid enough to get photographed kissing someone else, and someone, a fucking fan, sent it to me.”

Bushi rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Hena… I mean, you married him knowing this was a possibility. Through thick and thin, right?”

“I know, I know, Bushi, I just…” she sighs and leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees, buries her face in her hands. “I just didn’t expect it to hurt this much.”

When Bushi reaches forward to place a gentle hand on her thigh, Hena bites her lip. Her eyes are teary enough that when she looks at him, it looks like she’s been crying, and the face that Bushi makes… he feels sorry for her. Like he knows she deserves better, even if her husband is an asshole. Hena drops her hand to his. Squeezes a little, but doesn’t let it go.

“I can’t help but think… fuck, I feel so stupid…” Hena laughs it off, finally drops Bushi’s hand.

“Can’t help but think what?”

She glances at him from under her lashes. Smiles ruefully, pulls her lip back into her mouth. “Think that maybe if it were someone else, they’d treat me better.”

He understands what she implies immediately. She sees his visible swallow and shifts a little closer to him. “Maybe,” he murmurs, “I just hope that whatever he does, he makes you happy. It’s a shame to see such a beautiful lady cry, after all.”

She stares at the Japanese wrestler with hopeful eyes. “Stop my tears, then.”

Bushi doesn’t miss a beat— the romantic-at-heart grabs her face softly and presses his lips to hers, kisses her so gently that he’s gone a second later. His eyes are wide, like he’s just made a horrible, horrible mistake, but that look disappears when Hena chases his mouth with her own. She kisses him back, presses into him until he’s sitting and her knees are either side of his.

He tastes like a weird concoction of coffee and green tea, his smell just as intoxicating. His gentle hands curl around to the back of her head, and one continues its way down until it’s sitting against the skin of her waist.

Slowly, enough so that he won’t know, Hena pulls her phone from her back pocket, and out of the corner of her eye, she slides the camera up until it shows her kissing Bushi. She takes the photo. Slides the phone back into her pocket. Pulls away from the kiss with hooded eyes and red cheeks. “Bushi…”

“We shouldn’t be doing this...”

Hena kisses him again, draws her lips down his neck until all she can smell is his cologne. She breaths into his neck, savours the feeling of how gently he’s holding her. “Naito has made his choice, I’ve made mine.”

But the moment seems to fade from him. He puts both his hands on her shoulders and slides out from under her, lithe as a cat, stares at her for a long moment before making his own choice. When he walks towards the door, Hena knows she shouldn’t fight him. She knows what the wise option is here.

“You should go.”

She doesn’t even look at him as she leaves.

[wwesmutdonedirtcheap]

Loner 7.0

Summary: Part Seven of my Baron Series. 

The fallout of Baron’s attack on Sami on Smackdown after Backlash leaves the reader wondering if her dreams with Baron are realistic.

You can find the rest of the Loner Series on my Master List 

Tags are a bitch. That is all.

“Damn it!” Shane threw his chair into the wall as he stood up from it “He can’t get through one match…Not one, without this shit happening!”

He turned to face me and I inwardly took a deep breath.

He was right. I knew he was right. Baron had no control over his temper. Sami getting not one, but two victories over him…He was beyond anything I had seen in quite a while. He was livid and vicious and vindictive.

Shane’s cellphone rang and he grabbed it off the table.

“Yeah…Ok, which hospital?…Yeah, yeah go with him.”

He hung it up quickly and shoved it into his back pocket.

“Is Sami ok?” I whispered, standing to my feet nervously.

“I think so,” Shane ran a hand through his hair “I’m telling you, your boyfriend better get his shit straight. I can’t defend his ass to my father forever.”

With that, Shane stomped out and left me alone in the viewing room backstage.

I fished into my purse and retrieved my own cellphone. I quickly brought up my pictures and a sigh finally left my mouth.

Baron was so happy when we were together. Even if he didn’t always smile. I flipped through picture after picture of us.

He was everything to me. He meant more than this job and that was saying something. I had never intended to fall head over heels for my best friend but it happened and there was no stopping it. I was free falling and couldn’t see an end in sight.

Finally, I backed out and looked at my back ground photo. It was the same as my lock screen. Baron had taken a picture of me one night asleep on his shoulder. He had taken it on my phone and didn’t tell me, I just found it there.

Our relationship was getting really serious. I found myself secretly wishing that he was considering the same thing that I was. Marriage, or at least moving in together.

How could I do all of that though, when he continued to be such a wrecking machine at work? Yes, I had agreed to keep work separate from personal but on a personal level his outbursts were getting out of hand. Quite frankly they had went from somewhat attractive to down right scary. I loved that Baron defended himself and the things he cared about, but Sami Zayn was one of the nicest people I knew. He had been thrown around that arena like a rag doll and Baron’s eyes had been cold, emotionless other than the anger that burned deep within them.

And before Sami, there was the whole incident with Dean where he had pinned him to the concrete with a forklift…And pushing the cameraman down on Talking Smack….The list could go on.

This wasn’t about work anymore. This was about him. The man I loved was spiraling out of control.

“Hey, princess,” Baron’s low groan hit the back of my ear as I stood outside.

I felt his arms encircle my waist and I leaned back against him. His body fit so perfectly with mine. When we were alone, everything was perfect. He was Baron. My best friend, my lover…my everything.

“Hey,” I sighed softly, feeling his lips lingering along my neck.

“What’s wrong?” he stopped, slowly spinning me around to look up into his eyes.

“I’m scared,” I spit out before I had time to stop my thoughts from being verbalized.

“What? Who’s scaring you?” his brow creased with anger and I watched as his nostrils flared, the burning embers of anger started to reignite in his eyes.

I stood up on my tiptoes and ran my hand along his cheek.

“Can we go to the car?” I whispered.

He nodded, grabbing my hand and walking full speed toward the mustang we had rented for the week.

I watched from my side of the car as he tossed our things into the trunk and then slid into the driver’s seat. He leaned across and opened the door for me to sit next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he turned to me “What happened?”

I didn’t know how to approach this. The last time we talked about his anger, I had promised him I’d stay out of it…But that was business, this was personal.

“Baron,” I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts “Remember when I first met you? How you sort of took care of me?”

He smirked, running his hand down over his nose and mouth, finally nodding.

“Yeah.”

“You really looked out for me,” I reached across the center console and grabbed his hand “You never let anybody hurt me. If someone even looked at me wrong…You defended me.”

“Damn right,” he shifted in his seat “You were my best friend. My little partner in crime.”

I giggled, an ease taking over for just a moment. Then, the heaviness of what I needed to say fell over me again. I slid my hand away from his.

“That’s what I meant when I said you getting angry is kind of a turn on,” I didn’t quite meet his eyes “You protecting me, protecting anything that’s yours…”

He stared at me. His wet hair twisted up on his head and his arms bared still in one of his ring t-shirts.

“This isn’t coming out right,” I laid my head back against the seat.

“You’re pissed about Sami,” his voice sounded annoyed “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did,” I nodded, staring at my hands “This isn’t about Sami…Well it is, but…It’s more about us…About you…You’re starting to scare me.”

“What?” Baron laughed, disbelief echoing throughout the car.

I finally raised my eyes to meet his again and his jaw hardened when he realized I was serious.

“When you get angry, really angry,” I turned in my seat toward him “You just, get so violent. It’s like you black out or something…All this rage comes out…It’s starting to scare me…A lot.”

“Hey,” his rough hand grabbed my face and his thumb dug into my jaw “I would never, ever, lay a hand on you. You got me?”

I felt my lower lip start to tremble and I scooted closer.

“Not on purpose,” I whispered “But what if you just get so mad that…”

“Never,” he repeated, his eyes staring straight into mine “I’d never forgive myself….I’d never get that mad at you…At any woman.”

I nodded but I still felt a few tears in the corners of my eyes and my fingers quickly batted them away.

“You believe me?” he brushed his fingers along my cheek “Say you believe me.”

“I believe you,” I covered his hand with mine “I just…It just…”

“It’s a problem,” he admitted “And the truth is, I’m probably gonna end up in some deep shit over tonight. But I don’t care. My career means so much to me that I’ll stop at nothing to get where I wanna be.”

“You’ll get there,” I smiled softly at him “You got a chance at that briefcase now.”

“I’m getting it,” he answered quickly, the matter of fact tone harsh in his voice.

“I know you are,” I slid his hand from my face “I believe in you.”

“Come over here,” he patted his lap.

“What?” I laughed, staring at him with a big grin on my face.

“Come on,” he reached and pulled me into his lap.

“What are you doing?” I raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“I’m gonna show you,” he whispered, his hands running through my hair and holding it out of my face “Show you the only way that I’ll ever touch you.”

Before I knew it, he had slid us both into the backseat. I squealed as he pushed my back down on the cool leather and immediately slid my underwear down off my hips. He hiked my skirt up around my waist and a groan escaped his mouth.

I quickly sat up, pulling his t-shirt off his body and tossing it in the front seat. His warm mouth met mine and his waist nestled between my thighs.

“Never,” his lips broke from mine with each statement "I would never hurt you…I love you so fuckin’ much…Jesus.“

He leaned up, his hands fumbling with his belt and he slid his jeans down to his knees.

Baron’s hands ripped my blouse open, causing buttons to pop off and I arched my back in surprise. A huge grin plastered across his face as he ran his hands along my breasts still clad in my bra. His mouth dropped to the base of my neck. Before long he was sucking the skin along the top of my breasts before pulling a nipple out from under the fabric with his teeth. I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders and he groaned, biting down on me.

“Baron,” I gasped, his fingers sliding up the inside of my thigh, until he reached my pussy.

He moaned, letting my nipple pop free before his hands ripped my bra down around the center of my body.

His fingers played between my legs and I wriggled beneath him anxiously.

“You’re so fucking sexy right now,” he grunted against my ear, his tongue sliding all over it.

His dick was hard against my upper leg and I could feel it was already slicked, just like I was.

His free hand, twisted my other nipple between his fingers and he let out a throaty laugh as I moaned loudly against the back of the seat.

“Let it all out, princess,” he bit at my thumb as I slid my hand up along his face “Nobody can hear you.”

“We’re, we’re in a parking lot,” I whimpered, as I felt the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance at last.

“Who the fuck cares?” he gasped, pushing up inside of me.

I gasped and a loud scream came out of my mouth, which I quickly muffled against his chest. I felt him chuckle against me and I playfully slapped at his shoulder as I pulled away.

His hips rolled against mine. It was surprising he could move around as easily as he could in such a small space. He started to moan loudly with each thrust into me.

“I’m sorry,” he finally gasped, his hands propped on either side of my head, sitting on the arm rest.

“For what?” I whispered, my mind wrapped up in my Baron fog.

“For scaring you,” he dipped his lips to my forehead briefly and started rolling his body faster.

“Baron?” I gasped, that familiar feeling slowly starting to creep up.

“Yeah, baby?” he growled, his hips now thrashing hard against my own.

“Do you wanna move in with me?” I asked, before I had time to even realize what I was saying.

I felt myself tighten around him and I squealed out, my body shaking as he thrashed his final three thrusts before releasing inside me.

Sweat was glistening on his tattooed chest, as he drew in a deep breath.

I lay underneath him, exhausted and euphoric and nervous all at once.

“My place is bigger,” he finally ran his hand down his face and lowered himself down closer to me.

“So?” I raised an eyebrow.

“So, how about you move in with me?” he panted, his hands absently playing with my hair.

“Is that what you want?” I asked “This isn’t just some post sex high, right?”

He laughed and licked the smile off his lips.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it for a while,” he finally slid out of me “Didn’t know what you would think about it.”

“I want it,” I answered immediately, as I felt his hands slide my skirt down gently.

“Then let’s do it,” he dipped his head down to meet my lips.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “How to make a baby”

The Joker really wants a baby and doesn’t know how to approach the subject. Last time you two talked about it your answer was an unmistakable no and he doesn’t take that kind of negative attitude from anybody, including his girl. Or so he likes to believe…

You are reading a book in front of the fireplace, sitting on the soft rug and leaning your back against the couch. The Joker is resting in his favorite armchair, reading articles about How to make your girlfriend happy on his cell. He wants to convince you to have a baby with him and things have to go the right way because he is aware he can’t force you on this one. J reads the list again and decides to try the stuff he found, maybe it will work.

1. Tell her you love her

He holds his phone with two fingers like it’s infected with some contagious virus, takes a deep breath and utters with emotionless voice:

“Pumpkin, I love you.” It sounded so cold, flatter than the flat green tea latte he orders from Starbucks all the time. He hates the taste but it’s green. Yeah, well… it makes sense to him.

“Awww, that’s nice J,” you mumble, not really paying attention. You always have to sift through what he says because he sure says a lot of things. Most of the times you just pretend to listen and find it easier to just go with the flow.

It didn’t seem you cared about his first effort and he passes his fingers through his hair, annoyed: “What a bunch of nonsense, who wrote this crap?! I should kill them,” he thinks to himself and notices there is/are no name(s) at the end of the article. Dammit, how is he supposed to punish the culprit if he doesn’t know who it is? That makes him even more irritated but decides to continue.

2. Tell her she’s beautiful

For this one J believes he needs to change spots so he comes on the couch behind you and sits so you are trapped between his legs. He starts massaging your shoulders, his gold bracelets clinking in your ears.

“Ahhh, it feels nice,” you whisper, closing your eyes, enjoying the relaxing moment.

“You’re such a pretty doll, Princess,” he leans over and tells you, waiting for a reaction. You take his hand and kiss his laughing mouth tattoo, then keep it on your face, going back to reading. That worked better, he smiles, satisfied with the accomplishment so he continues:

“Do you remember when we first met? You annoyed me so much at the meeting I followed you to your car because I wanted to kill you.”

You snort at the memory and turn the page:” Oh, yeah, how could I forget?”

“…and then I saw you bending over to reach your glove compartment with that short skirt and I realized you had no underwear on.”

“Excuse me?! I did have underwear on,” you protest, looking up to him.

“That little string doesn’t count,” he smirks and you slap his knee.

“Does to! Plus, I totally busted you staring. Are you enjoying the view, Mister J? “ you recall the question, amused.

“Remember what I answered? I would like it even better from the top.” You both start laughing like crazy; it sure was one of the most daring pickup lines you ever heard but it worked.

“Such a charmer, baby,” you sigh, chuckling, turning your attention towards your reading again.

“I know,” he has to admit, grinning. “ I sure felt I have to ask if you would like to go on a heist together sometimes.”

“ I was impressed with your approach on asking for a date so I said yes,” you rest your head on his knee, closing your book for a few moments.  “It sure was lucky you had a robbery planned for that night, I never had so much fun on a first date,” you have to admit and The Joker’s heart beats faster, happy to hear the confirmation of his awesomeness. Man I’m good! he believes without hesitation and takes a quick glance at his cell again.

3. Buy her flowers

“Y/N, I got you flowers,” he boasts before he grasps the idea he didn’t get shit.

“Oh, did you? How sweet, I love flowers,” you admit, picking around to see where they are and it clicks for J: Fuck, I have none. “Ummm, I forgot them in my car, I’ll go get them,” he gets up and heads towards the elevator, not knowing how is going to pull this one off.

“Thank you, baby !“ he hears before the elevator’s door close. You move close to the fire, wondering why he’s behaving weird but you kind of like it.

On the way to the underground parking, he passes by Frost’s office and since he always has the door opened, J sees the huge bouquet of flowers on the coffee table, no doubt a gift for his girlfriend.

He shamelessly walks in, giving Jonny a mean look and growls:

“These are mine!” and yanks the bouquet away.

“Of course, sir,” Frost is fast in agreeing since he knows better than not to keep his mouth shut at his boss’s behavior.

************

“Here, for you Pumpkin,” J gives you the flowers, kissing you and you really feel excited.

“They look so beautiful, I’ll keep them by me for a while,” you determine with such a glowing smile it makes him intrigued: Why do women always like this stuff? It’s so stupid. He goes back to his spot behind you and starts playing with your hair. He thinks he got this so he begins talking:

“You know, Pumpkin, you’re only getting older and…”

“What?!” you snap, finally paying attention. “ You’re so rude!” you pout and move away from him, placing yourself on your tummy in front of the fireplace, slamming your book around before you calm down a bit. “You’re old!” you hiss at him over your shoulder and he deeply inhales, not understanding why the truth is upsetting you so much.

It’s finally time to glance at that list again because apparently going rogue on his own it’s not working too well.

4.  Show interest in what she likes

J crawls down by your side and imitates your position, staring you down.

“What are you reading, Doll?”

“A book about villains,” you reply, frowning, bouncing your legs up and down.

“Am I in there?” he asks, getting closer to you and places his chin on your forearm.

“Nope,” you shortly answer, sniffling.

“I should be,” he states with confidence, pretending to read what you are.

You lift your shoulders up and try to ignore him. He takes a quick pick at the phone again.

5.  Let her know you’re lucky to have her

“I’m the most important one around here but I guess you have your fair amount of usefulness,” he seductively mumbles, thinking it’s the best praise he came up with so far.

“Huh?” you get upset, turning towards him and watching his silver teeth shinning in the firewood light. “Shut up, J !” and you push him away, sulking.

What the hell?! I thought she will love this for sure.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Princess, is that it’s OK having you around,” he corrects his earlier statement, hoping for a more positive outcome.

“Whatever,” you grumble while he slowly uses two fingers to walk down your back until he reaches your shorts.

6. Cuddle up with her at home

The Joker gropes you and uses you as an anchor while really shoving himself into you. Your hair being yanked in the process doesn’t make you receptive to his tactic.

“Ouch, what are you doing?” you look at him again, suspicious. “Are you trying to tell me you wanna have sex or something? Because you don’t need all this, I always want you,” you bitterly admonish him by admitting to the truth. It flusters you how you can’t fully hate him, at least not for long periods of time.

“I’m just trying to get in your pants, literally. Why are they so hard to pull down?” J tries again and no luck, blowing a rebel strand of green hair off his face, irked because he usually doesn’t have trouble undressing you.

“Wow, that’s why you’ve been acting awkward?” you finally smile, contemplating if you should still be mad or not.

“I was acting…normal,” he grunts, fighting with your shorts and it makes you snicker at his struggle.

“Which means weird for you,” you are fast to point out. “So what’s going on?”

“Dammit, stupid shorts!” he slaps your butt and you lift yourself up a little bit so he can finally succeed in his mission. “Ohhhh, strings again,”  he delightfully growls, biting his lip.

“You know I always wear this kind of stuff because it apparently saved my life,” you roll your eyes, feeling there’s more to this behavior of his. “Hey, my eyes are up here!” you lift his chin up from your cleavage, interrupting his fun. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He takes a deep breath and swears he’s going to get rid of you if you don’t agree with him:

“Pumpkin, we should really have a baby.” And now he waits.

You stare at him without blinking for a few long seconds and it makes him uncomfortable. He never feels uncomfortable.

“Are you…are you for reals?!” you furrow your eyebrows, gasping.

“Yeah, we should have a baby, I told you before I want one,” he grinds his teeth and you sure don’t seem thrilled.

“Really???!!!! I told you I’m pregnant when you were sitting on your stupid armchair, playing on your stupid phone with something stupid for sure! You didn’t seem to care!!” you raise your voice, mad again.

His mouth just opens, he surely didn’t hear that, concentrating too much on the article that was supposed to get you to the point of wanting to have a baby.

“Oh my God, Princess, I’m gonna be a dad?!” he blurs out, his blue eyes lighting up in a way you didn’t see before and it kind of lowers your defense.

“I hope you’re going to be a better dad because as I boyfriend…I don’t know…”

He is not paying attention again.

“The Joker is gonna be a father,” he whispers, absent minded and you have to make him focus again:

“Do you still want to get in my pants or what?”

*************************

“Hey Princess!” he shouts from his desk and you turn around in the same time with your 5 year daughter that’s playing on the ground with her toys: “Yes, Daddy?” she giggles and J starts laughing in his crazy way that would normally make people cringe. The two of you are so used to it you don’t even care.

“Come sit in Daddy’s lap, would you?” he gestures and you head over with Evie running in front of you wanting to be first one. She gets on his left knee and you sit on his right one.

“Which one of us, baby?” you pull on his hair, aggravated.

He smirks, gratified on how sneaky he can be:

“Does it matter? I got you both trained!”

“Did you hear that, Evie? Daddy got us trained. What do we do when Daddy is being a smart-ass, hmmm?” you kiss her forehead and she charges at his neck, screaming:

“We bite him!!!”

“Ahhh, good girl,” you snarl, watching The Joker squirm and snicker under attack while reaching for the book you set on his desk earlier.

“Did you have time to look at this?” you ask him while he has fun with Evie and he nods no, whimpering at the small teeth grazing his skin. “Here”, you open the book in the middle, showing him what you customized for him online. “ I got you a whole chapter in the villains book, wrote it myself. This way you don’t have to wait until you die like the others.”

His eyes get big and he grins, so pleased with what you did.

“Daddy, play with me!” Evie tugs on his shirt when she notices he is paying attention to something else. She starts bouncing in his lap, impatient and you get up.

“You did this for me, Doll?”

“Oh, yeah, because I really want to get in your pants tonight. Literally,” you whisper in his ear, biting his neck too.

*********************

You’ve been making out for 10 minutes now when he stops for a few seconds to unexpectedly say: “ I love you, Pumpkin” with that emotionless tone he uses when he’s at a loss of understanding his own complicated emotions.

“Aww, that’s nice, “ you snuggle more to him and he continues: “You’re such a beautiful doll, Princess.”

Something feels…strange.

“Y/N, I got you flowers,” he moans while pulling down your bra straps. It suddenly clicks for you and you get off him, panicked.

“Oh, no! No, no, definitely not!” you back out, heading for the door.

“What?” he pretends to be all innocent. “We should have another kid, look how cute Evie is.”

“Out of the question, you know I had a horrible pregnancy,” and you run out of the door when he stands up to follow you, fed up with your rebellion. You lock yourself in the bedroom that’s the furthest from your daughter’s room so you won’t wake her. The Joker comes and softly knocks on the door, amazed he’s not pissed yet:

“ Y/N, open up! What are you going to do? You’ll never sleep with me again?!”

You debate, thinking of all the fun you have all the time, that’s why you sound doubtful when you reply:

“Ummmmm…yeeeess….”

“Open the door, don’t make me mad! Daddy wants you! Or do I have to find myself another woman?” he bangs his head against the door, sighting.

“NO!!!” you kick the door from the other side, gulping. “That’s blackmail, J, it’s not fair!” “This is what we do, Doll, you don’t like it when you are the lucky recipient?”

“NO!!!” you pout, kicking the door again. “I don’t like it!”

“Open up, yes? I want to get in your pants!” he tries the strategy and he hears you snicker. I didn’t lose my touch, he compliments his skills to his own self.

“I don’t have any pants on,” you crack the door open, hating yourself for wanting him so much.

He rests his head on the wood frame for a little bit before pushing his way in.

“Even better, makes it easier,” The Joker grins, slowly closing the door behind him.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[evans-addicted]

THE ASSASSIN CONNECTION | Part 4

Avengers x OC Reader Katya Ivankov 

Summary: New “recruit” brought in by Fury, too bad she’s got history with several Avengers and it’s not a happy reunion. How’s this going to go? We’ll have to see.

Warnings: swearing, angst, fighting, mention of blood

Word count: 1,454

Twenty minutes later you walked into the gym and there she was bouncing from one foot to the other while stretching her arms above her head, Steve standing next to her waiting for you. Sam, Wanda, Barnes, Tony and Bruce were all standing off to the side looking at you wide eyed as you stepped up to the mat. Great, the last thing you wanted was an audience, but whatever. “Since you too are hell bent on being completely unreasonable, I’m going to give you this chance to fight it out and leave it here on the mat” Steve looked between Nat and you. You both stared each other down emotionless and nodded when Steve was finished talking. She started by doing a few lunges at you to try to get you to throw the first punch. You rounded the mat like boxers, waiting for the other to show an opening. 

You shifted your eyes to the left to throw her off guard and she bit. She threw a right hook at you that easily blocked. You spun around to kick her but she dodged it, but she hadn’t expected you to continue the spin into a second kick to the ribs. As she bent over you threw a right uppercut to her jaw sending her a few steps back. Gasps and whispers came from the peanut gallery. She removed her hand from her jaw and gave you a sly grin. She faked a sweep to your legs which you stupidly fell for, instead she landed a punch to your gut. You were able to grab her wrist though and fell down, sliding through her legs flipping her on her back. She countered with a spin and swept your legs out from under you, landing you on your ass. Quickly you both recovered, flipping back up on your feet. Both of you now more aware of the others moves, you were able to dodge or block each other better. 

Punches thrown missed their mark. Kicks flew through the air only to be pushed away or missed completely. This went on for what seemed like forever, only getting in a punch from either of you once in a blue moon. You decided this had to end so you decided to play dirty. An idea cropped in your head when you caught a glance of Bruce nervously biting his nails watching the fight unfold. “You know if you want me gone so much, you could just tell me you love me and maybe I’ll run away” you spat as you nodded toward him. She looked over at him and then when she turned back to you, rage had replaced her cold calm demeanor. She lunged at you, spearing you in the stomach pushing you back on the mat. She knelt above you with her fist up ready to strike when she hissed “If I told you I loved you it’d be the only time anyone would ever say it to you”. Before she could bring her fist down you curled your legs up into your body and pushed your feet to her chest, sending her flying back, landing with an oof. You both stood up facing each other about 5 feet between you.

“YA NENAVIZHU TEBYA!” (I HATE YOU) you shouted at her as you both bent down and grabbed the dagger you each kept hidden in your boot and flung it at each other. The daggers hit the same spot on both of you, right in the middle of the left thigh. You both yelled and grabbed your thigh as the others screamed and came running over. Running over to HER. “What the hell were you thinking!” Steve yelled at you. “I fucking got stuck too ya know” you yelled back at him in disbelief.  “Fuck this shit” you growled as you pulled off your black long sleeve shirt. After pulling out the knife you tied the shirt around your thigh as tight as you could then started walking towards the door. “Wait, Katya come back and let us look at your leg!” Steve yelled after you. “Fuck off!” you flipped him the bird over your head as you grabbed the first aid kit off the wall by the door as you limped out of the gym, down the hall to your room. 

You walked in your room and slammed the door shut behind you. You threw the first aid kit on the bench at the foot of your bed and walked into the bathroom to grab a couple towels. You pulled the shirt from around your leg and dropped it on the bathroom floor followed by your pants. You walked back to the bench and sat down with a hiss from the pain. Taking one of the towels you started wiping off some of the blood. Grabbing the first aid kit at your side you opened it and pulled out all the gauze pads, the wrap, the bottle of saline and the butterfly stitches. You opened all the packaging and the top of the saline bottle, that’s when you heard the knock at your door. “What” you spat. “Can I come in?” Steve asked. “I thought I told you to fuck off.” “Please!” he pleaded. You didn’t respond. You soaked a few gauze with the saline and proceeded to clean up your wound enough to put on the bandages. 

You hadn’t heard the door open, but Steve walked in to see you sitting in your underwear and a tee shirt “Kat we can take you up to the cradle and have that healed up in like 20 minutes” he stated. “I don’t recall inviting you in, let alone asking for your input” you sneered at him. He walked over and knelt in front of you, sitting back on his feet “At least let me help.” He grabbed your ankle and lifted your foot to rest on his thigh. “Why aren’t you helping your precious Natasha” you couldn’t even look at him. 

“Don’t be like that please. It was reflex to defend her. The whole team thing you know” he grabbed a towel and held it under your leg to catch and blood dripping.  “Yeah well I’m used to it so whatever. Here hold the towel here” you directed his hands to the side of your leg so you could pour the liquid on your leg. “I’m sorry. You were right, you got hurt too and I shouldn’t have yelled at you” he said as he focused on the towel. You wiped the excess blood and saline off and began to apply the bandages “Don’t worry about it. I’ve always come in second fiddle to her. Not the first time and it won’t be the last. I’m not shedding any tears over it.” He sighed heavily and looked you in the eye “Don’t say that. I was trying to help, not make things worse.” “Well that was a great idea Cap. What’s next on your list, Fun with fire? Maybe we can burn away these big bad feelings.” 

He rolled his eyes as you placed a few clean gauze over the stiches and started to wrap your leg. “Here let me do it” he dropped the towel and grabbed the roll from you. “We can avoid all this if you just let me take you to upstairs” he glanced up at you. “No thanks. I’m old school. I like my pain to remind me of the stupid shit I’ve been through” you mumbled as you glanced up to a picture hanging on the wall. Some art piece Tony had in here when you “moved in”. “There all done” he smiled and patted your knee. “Thanks” you quietly responded. “So you wanna tell me exactly what happened out there” he questioned. “Not particularly. I think things got worse instead of better though, sorry to say” you shot him a small smile. He sighed again. He stared at you for a few moments and you couldn’t quite gauge his emotion. Was he still mad? Was he feeling sorry for you? Was he feeling bad he caused this? Either way you were done.

“Well it’s been fun having you between my legs but you should probably get going now” you poked him in the stomach with your toe before setting in on the ground. “Ahhh you and your mouth” he laughed as he stood and turned for the door. “Oh you think my language is bad, you should see what else I can do with my mouth” you grinned as he threw his hands up exasperated and walked out. You were so tired you didn’t even bother changing clothes, you just crawled under the covers and drifted to sleep. 

To be continued...

  part 1  part 2  part 3  ..  part 5 

@marvelbase001 @imamotherfuckingstar-lord 

#avengers #chris evans #captain america #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #natasha romanoff #black widow #sam wilson #falcon #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #bruce banner #hulk #tony stark #iron man #robert downey jr 

[nike-shawn]

i. First

this series is going to be told in flashes that will all come together and make sense in the end - however, if you get confused or have any questions, feel free to shoot me an ask :)

IMPORTANT: this series is explicit in drug usage, the consequences of drug usage and also in sexual content. please don’t read if you are uncomfortable with any of these topics. this one is pretty sad, but the next couple will be happier and more ‘bad boy’; I promise.

You watch him suck in, cheeks hollowed and jawline defined as the cigarette takes its place between his pretty pink lips. Your eyes always seem to get stuck on his finger tattoos because the dark ink stands out so prominently against his pale skin and it looks out of place there, there on the inside of his index, or there at the base of his thumb. But then the smoke spills from his mouth and dispels into the chilly morning air and you’re reminded of how fitting those tattoos are.

Shawn ducks his head down and studies the small people 15 floors below. He’s leaning on the balcony railing tiredly as he tries to wake up, and you’re sitting behind him in the cushioned wicker chair, casually sipping the coffee he brewed for you. He didn’t make it right - forgot the sugar - but he tried. He’s always doing that; trying. Trying for you.

“Hey Doll,” he starts, catching your attention with that raspy morning voice that makes the hair at the back of your neck stand up, “I quit Mario’s.”

He’s expecting you to be mad at him. You watch his back muscles tense and his hand shake as he lifts the cigarette to his mouth again. But your mouth stays closed and you drop your gaze to the coffee in your hands, watching the steam from it rise up, up, up. You haven’t put contacts in yet so the world is still blurry but his face is crystal clear as he looks over his shoulder, eyes filled with what you think is probably disappointment in himself or disappointment in what didn’t happen. He looks young in the mornings with his hair in his face and his skin splotchy with sleep, and he looks too young to have smoke in his lungs and too young to have already had seven jobs, all of which he quit for various, unacceptable reasons. He’s much too young but he’s trying. Trying for you.

“Thought you were saving up,” you say quietly.

He moves slowly, slowly, slowly, eventually folding his body until he’s small and sitting on the floor of the balcony, back against the railing. “I still am; the money’s still in an account,” he tells you as he leans his head back, tilting it towards the sky. “We’ll get a June wedding.”

“I know we’ll get a June wedding, Shawn, I know it’ll happen. It’s just a matter of if it’s next June or the June five years from now.”

“Next June - I already told you.”

You swallow down the disappointment in your throat. “You told me that this serving job was the one you were going to keep, too.”

You wish you’d kept your eyes closed. You wish that maybe you’d been looking out at the little people below you or at the water beyond. But, of course, you’d been watching Shawn’s face as it crumpled for that split second, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth twisting itself into a torturously beautiful frown before righting itself with a swipe of his hand over his eyes. You look away.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says. “I love you. Next June, baby, I promise.”

He looks at you finally with tired eyes and a lazy smile and you love him. You set your coffee down and walk over to him, dropping down gently in his lap, legs slung around his waist and dangling through the rungs of the railing. The wind nips at your heels. You kiss him and say “I think you’re pushing this back because you’re afraid I’ll upstage you in my dress,” you laugh, “you know how good I look in white.”

Shawn smiles against your lips. “Y/N, don’t be ridiculous. I’m pushing it back because I don’t wanna embarrass you in front of everyone - last time I wore a suit, you tore it off me before we were even out the door.”

The two of you bump teeth as your laughter rattles your chests and you’ll be okay, you think. You’re going to be okay.

+

“What happened to Shawn’s knuckles?”

You tap your foot nervously as you avoid your mom’s gaze, darting from the table to the window to your plate to the table again, all in quick succession. She’s looking at you like she knows all about it. Deep down you’ve accepted that she’s known all along.

“He, um,” you say shakily, clearing your throat, “s’ a scratch he got from work. Comes home with all these bruises and cuts and things, you know,” you shrug, “construction.”

She purses her lips and sips more of her iced tea, side-eyeing your fiancee who’s been caught in the kitchen talking to your dad. You follow her eyes and see Shawn’s hands stuffed in his pockets. You want to assume that they’re talking about something normal, like the weather or how work is, but you can tell by the tick in your father’s jaw that Shawn’s already said the wrong thing.

“You don’t have to marry him, Y/N,” you mom implores, eyes suddenly burning into you, the intensity making you shrink in your chair. “He might make you think that but he’s going around picking fist fights with people, smoking and drinking the night away -”

“You don’t know that -”

“I know how this story ends, Y/N -”

“You don’t know shit about him!” You scream. The house falls silent with your outburst and you watch your mother take a shaky breath, smoothing out her dress. After a moment you hear Shawn’s heavy footsteps on the tile, feel his hands at your waist. He whispers things in your ear, things that are supposed to calm you down but all they do is prompt tears, reminding you of how unjust this whole thing is. “It’s not his fault,” you say, quieter now, looking straight at your mother. “He can’t help it, Mom, it’s not his fault.”

“Let’s go,” Shawn says, tugging gently on your hand.

Your mother is straight-backed in the kitchen chair, feigning composure. She looks like a statue. Her face is emotionless and she watches you go, your hand clutched between Shawn’s bruised one.

“It’s not your fault,” you say to Shawn’s back as he leads you towards the front door of your childhood home, “you’re trying. You’re trying for me.”

He’s always doing that; trying. Trying for you. It’s just never enough anymore.

+

You don’t have enough money to go out so the kitchen smells like pasta again tonight.

He’s dancing around with a wooden spoon in his hand, shirtless and silly, belting out all the words to some Jason Derulo song that came on the radio. You smile and hold back your laughter as Shawn’s hips move ridiculously when his lips mouth ‘Talk dirty to me,’ and pretends his playing the saxophone. “Do do do do do do do do dooooooo do do do do do do do do do.”

“You’re absolutely insane,” you tell him, white teeth shining in the sticky overhead light.

“But you love me,” he reminds you, body now flush against your back. His hips rut up against your ass suggestively. “Love me enough to turn off the stove and go to the bedroom.”

“Yeah, you wish.”

“Don’t have to wish, baby, you’re already wet.” His hand inches down to the space between your legs, index finger pushing up against the most sensitive part of you. Your leggings are thin thin thin and he can feel everything he’s doing to you. “You’re already thinking of what we could be doing if we just made our way over to the bedroom…” he trails off and starts to tug on your hand. You look at his pretty brown eyes and then down to where he’s pushing out the front of his sweatpants, and sigh as you turn off the heat on the stove. Your bare feet follow after his and you start to feel your heartbeat race, a familiar feeling, when you cross into your shared bedroom.

It’s dark in here but he doesn’t turn on any lights beside the one on top of your dresser, illuminating only a corner of the space and giving the room a quiet, calm ambiance. He turns around to face you: pupils blown wide, hands shaking, cheeks red. Your heart drops.

“Shawn,” you say quietly as his lips attack your neck. You feel his teeth at your collarbone, nipping at the bone, breaking the delicate skin there. “Shawn, look at me.”

He pauses. “Why stop? Know you wanna keep going.”

“Look at me, please.”

His head lifts and you feel his breath on your face. His eyes can’t stay in one place - they’re at your eyebrows then they drop to your chin then they focus on your ear and you feel overwhelming disappointment wash over you, making your knees weak. You turn away from him with a wobbling bottom lip and climb onto the bed. You lay with your back facing him.

He’s high. He’s high again, and you don’t want to look at him.

“Y/N,” he tries.

“Please go away.”

“It wasn’t enough to do anything-”

“I don’t care.”

You feel his weight make a dip in the mattress. “Please don’t be like this. Times are tough, you know, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

You stay silent. He gives in and turns so you’re back to back.

He falls asleep before he can hear you cry.

+

The sex is sad after that.

There are no more fucks in the shower or blowjobs in the car. There’s no more laughing right before the moans. It’s quiet, too, and the blanket of silence is the heaviest you’ve felt in a long time.

“Y/N,” he breathes into your mouth, thrusting into you slowly. The headboard groans from where he’s gripping it with one hand, his other tangling in your hair, pulling it just enough.

Your legs are hiked up over his hips and you feel every inch of him, feel him rutting into you and you dip your fingers down to the top of your inner thigh, feeling the dampness from where he’d leaked out of your opening after your first go. You moan.

When he says that he’s “close, babe, close,” you meet his rhythm and try to get close too. His hand nudges yours away from where you’re rubbing just above the connection of you two and rubs quicker, harder. You bite at his shoulder as he pulls out and lets you get the sheets wet, cumming onto your stomach with his hand pumping quick, up and down up and down. He’s shaking with the power of it all, and you are too, legs spasming and teeth digging down hard into your reddened bottom lip.

The sex is sad after that because you don’t let him cuddle you into his chest after you’re done.

You just pad over to the bathroom in bare feet and tear-filled eyes and wipe up the mess he made with a wet washcloth. And then, when you come back, he’s already gone.

next bad boy update: next friday, Feb 3rd @ 6 EST. next actress update: next thursday, Feb 2nd