#by the way from the playlist the song which fits the situation probably best is How am I supposed to live without you by Michael Bolton | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wincore · 4 years ago

Text

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of.

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low.

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours.

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget.

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore.

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume.

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type.

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises. If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts.

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself.

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask.

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it.

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it.

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily.

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year.

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately.

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one.

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt.

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover.

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours.

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth.

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words.

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table.

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad.

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back.

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing.

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters.

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs.

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.”

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can.

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off.

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating.

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know.

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young.

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.”

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling.

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung.

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses.

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention.

Inviting him somewhere.

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure.

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more.

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter?

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him.

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.”

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.”

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.”

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts.

You’re disappointing.

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose.

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps.

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask.

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you.

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue.

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.”

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you.

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families.

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe.

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard.

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them.

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out.

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure.

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up.

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt.

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder.

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart.

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it.

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him.

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak.

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time.

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional.

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love.

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved.

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding.

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either.

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple.

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action.

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t.

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days.

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.”

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by.

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers.

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever.

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout.

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!”

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?”

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this.

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose.

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond.

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—”

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder.

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him.

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too.

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again.

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling.

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you.

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care.

“Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there.

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally.

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer.

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand.

2K notes · View notes

biletdoux · 4 years ago

Text

stages of love | j.jh

Pairing | jung jaehyun (nct) + female!reader Rating | M Genre + Tropes | college!au, romance (angst, fluff, smut) Warnings | explicit language, alcohol consumption, instant love?, sexual content (drunk sex, receiving and giving oral, penetration, cow girl position, nipple play), greyzone fidelity Length | 15k+

Summary | A playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart

(Or; your relationship with Jung Jaehyun in ten songs.)

Note: ahhhhhhh!!!! we finally did it boisssss. this fic has been a long time coming and honestly im sick and tired of jaehyun. i’ve spent too long thinking about him for this fic smh. this is also my first time writing smut so we’ll see how that goes lmao. anyway this was a long labor of love so please let me know what you thought of it !!! <333

1. Peach by IU

smitten at first sight.

“How can I explain this feeling?”

“Alright, I think that sums up about everything we need to cover for today’s lecture. Remember, most of this will be on your final exam. Any questions before you’re all dismissed?”

Your professor looks up from the board, scans the room and all he sees are most of the students waiting with bated breath, itching to leave the class, and half of those students having already packed their belongings in anticipation. He held them back an extra twenty five minutes today, which is notably longer than previous lectures in which he delayed dismissal.

“Okay, you’re free to go. Chapters nineteen and twenty are due the next time we meet.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, ready to head out with the rest of the class. You like Professor Jang and find that he makes history somewhat digestible, but he has a tendency to lose track of time, which is inconvenient, but more so today since you have agreed to meet up with Yeri. You glance at your phone to see text notifications and curse to yourself. You’re already ten minutes late and Yeri is many things and impatient is one of them.

You’re one of the first out of the small lecture hall and you shoot her a quick reply before making your way to the oncampus cafe. Through quickened strides and shortcuts engrained from cross-campus treks from class to class, you arrive in record time. You’re slightly out of breath and impressed by your speed, but you stop, frozen in your tracks when you see Yeri’s displeased face. You find her situated in a small, but cozy corner next to the windows, already unpacked with notebooks and papers strewn on the desk ready to review for exams. It's one of the best study spots in the cafe and you immediately know your best friend had to come extra early to nab such a sought after table.

“About time,” she scowls, “what took you so long?”

You shoot her an apologetic look, “aww, Yeri,” you pout your lips a little too dramatically, “I’m sorry. I just came from history and you know how Professor Jang is.”

Yeri looks at your jutted lips in disgust, but then her face softens in consideration. “Hm, I do know Jang.” She scrunches up her nose remembering her time in his class last semester. “That old man can talk for days on end and he never lets anyone leave class early. I guess I’ll let you go this time.”

You beam at her knowing she’s no longer angry for your tardiness. “Great, drinks are on me today. It’s the least I can do for being late.” Yeri forgives as easily and as quickly as she loses her temper. You learned this after a few weeks of being her roommate.

Yeri says nothing in silent agreement and you place your stuff down across the table next to the chair she reserves for you. You pull out your wallet and weave through the packed cafe to head to the order counter. The line is long and you patiently review the menu. Your roommate has consistent tastes and always orders a vanilla frappuccino regardless of which cafe she goes to, but you base your decision on your mood. You mull over your choices and by the time you reach the barista taking your order, you decide you’re in an ‘iced Americano’ kind of mood today. You have exams on top of exams you need to review for and a stronger caffeine kick is much needed.

After paying, you head back to the table with two drinks in tow. Yeri takes her drink and after you both take a few sips and catch up for the day, you dive straight to work. The two of you decide to review for statistics.

Between re-summarizing chapters and answering review questions, you muse to yourself about how your college experience thus far hasn't been that much different from your high school life. You didn’t necessarily hate high school, per say, but it was safe to say you didn’t enjoy it. Your heart was in the arts, specifically music, and you had found studying the core subjects to be boring and tedious. You remember being ecstatic to have been accepted and enrolled in a performing arts college, foolishly thinking your days of solving differential equations and memorizing chemical formulas were over. You specifically remember daydreaming of your hours being filled with keyboard practice and composition notes and only such things. Somehow the reality of mandatory general education courses slipped your mind when you constructed such fantasies.

Despite frivolous and preconceived notions of college, you have already survived a semester and you are nearly through your second.

“Hey, do you remember when this stats assignment is due?” Yeri’s inquiring voice snaps you out of your brief reverie and you search your cluttered brain for a date.

“Uh, I think it’s due, like, a few days before the final, but I’d have to double check.”

Yeri nods. “Alright, well let’s take a small break. We have some time till then, we don’t have to finish all of it today.”

You happily agree and set down your pen. Yeri takes a sip of her frappuccino and you lean over the table to get closer to her. “Anyway, did you hear about what happened with Jiwon and Youngjae from the entertainment management department?”

Her eyes glisten with wicked interest. “No. Do tell.”

Break time is always synonymous with gossip hour between you and Yeri.

You spend the next fifteen minutes dishing what you know and Yeri offers her own input whenever she feels fit.

“And they think they’re being discreet, but the whole dorm knows they’ve been sneaking around, but guess wha─” Before you can finish your sentence, you are cut off by a loud and energetic voice calling out Yeri’s name.

The two of you look up to see a slim and boyish brunet waving to Yeri and excitedly making his way to your table. He looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it, so you let it go.

He smiles happily at Yeri and greets her. “Hey Yeri, how’s it going?” He notices you there and gives you a polite wave, which you return in the same manner.

Yeri replies back breezily, but with her full attention. “Good. Did you need anything, Mark?”

He flushes just the slightest bit, but it doesn’t escape your eyes. “Erm, nothing I just wanted to remind you that we’re meeting for the music theory project tomorrow at four. I would’ve texted, but I forgot to get your number in class, and I saw you here and thought it was a good opportunity to tell you.”

Yeri’s eyes widen, “ah right! I completely forgot about it. It’s a good thing you found me here today, huh? Here, I’ll give you my number.”

She reaches her hand out her hand expectantly, and Mark is confused before scrambling to pull out his phone. You can tell Mark looks flustered while Yeri is calmly putting in her contact information. After finishing, she hands his phone back, “okay, all set. Just shoot me a text so I have your number as well. Thanks for reminding me today or I probably would’ve forgotten and not have shown up or something.”

Mark smiles again, this time a little more sure than before. “All good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeri.”

They wave goodbye and you watch Mark scamper from the cafe. Your eyes follow him, but Yeri is already focused on you again, paying Mark’s retreating form no mind.

“So…” you start.

“So?” She returns.

“He’s cute.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “I barely know him though. We have music theory together, but this is the first time we’ve talked all semester and we’re only talking because we got paired up for a project.”

Yeri seems apathetic and you study her closely. You notice she’s acting a little too stiffly carefree to be truly indifferent to the situation. You can’t help, but to tease her a bit. “Well, make the most out of this project then.”

Yeri gives you a hard look and you decide to let it go despite finding your best friend’s situation to be amusing.

“Anyway, keep telling me about Jiwon and Youngjae. You never finished.” Yeri changes the topic, knowing that you might decide to pester her again if she doesn’t.

“As I was saying,” you started up again. A figure outside catches your attention and you peer outside through the window past Yeri’s shoulders. You realize it’s Mark and you watch with interest as he gestures excitedly, pointing to something in his hand, you assume his phone, to some of his friends. From there your eyes wander absentmindedly from one person to the next, and it’s when you see him.

The reaction is almost instantaneous.

“Like you were saying?” Yeri urges, but her words fall on deaf ears, for all your attention is captured by the boy next to Mark with heart-shaped lips.

When you see said boy laugh, you notice he has moon for eyes and you unconsciously suck in a sharp breath. You must have been staring too intently without noticing because he turns his head in your direction and you two hold direct eye contact. Like a deer caught in headlights, you freeze and lose all rational thought. Your head is completely blank. You have never seen someone so beautiful and your mind does not know how to process any sensory information at the moment.

Someone calls the boy away and the entire group of friends leave. It’s only then do you find yourself releasing a breath you didn’t know you had been holding onto so tightly. Your heart is pounding and you feel as though blood is rushing through your ears.

“Hello?” Yeri sounds annoyed, but you struggle to find the words to answer her.

You feel a sudden heat rush to color your cheeks a vibrant red and a feeling surges through you that leaves you out of breath and weak at the knees. A steady warmth washes over you quietly and you feel it deep within yourself and you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

How silly, you muse. Not to be dramatic, but you think you’re in love.

2. Shadow by f(x)

adoration from afar.

“I’m really really into you.”

The next few weeks are packed to the brim with assignments and papers, but despite this, you still find time for your personal research into the boy who was with Mark that day.

Being the obvious first and easiest option, you beg Yeri to ask Mark directly about his friend, but she immediately shoots you down.

“No. Absolutely not. At least not anytime soon anyway,” she huffs. “I’ve barely held two full conversations with him, like hell the next is gonna be about his friend just cause my best friend started thirsting over him after one glance. I mean come on, girl.” She shakes her head at you.

Yeri’s right and you apologize to her for being thoughtless of her situation. She doesn’t say it, but she seems really hopeful about the music theory project and what might bloom from it. You would not want to impede on such possibilities of happiness for your friend, so you let that option go, but Yeri promises to help in other ways and she does.

Somehow between caffeine fueled cram sessions and sleep deprivation, you, with Yeri’s help manage to find out more about the boy. You casually ask around in your contemporary writing and production department and she offers help by searching her vocal performance department.

You find out his name is Jung Jaehyun and he’s a third year in the musical theatre department and that he’s a member of the local chapter of the performing arts fraternity on campus. You also discover his Instagram handle and you find yourself skimming through his page throughout the day more often than you’re willing to admit to any living soul.

You occasionally see him around campus since you first saw him at the cafe and each time, you can feel your heart hammer in your chest and you become so flustered to the point of your sympathetic nervous system activating. Unfortunately for you, your body unconsciously chooses flight each and every time at the sight of Jaehyun because you can always feel your knees go weak and your body lurch away to escape in any direction that isn’t Jaehyun’s. You kind of hate yourself each time you do, but you can’t help it. He’s just so pretty that it’s intimidating!

You try to think positive after the bouts of shame you experience after each escapade.

Well there’s no way to embarrass yourself in front of him if you run away before having the chance to, right?

Even thinking about it now in the comfort of your bed, you can’t shake your self-consciousness and bury your face in a large pillow resting on your knees. Your cheeks are burning and you don’t know what to do.

“Hey, why don’t you just talk to him, instead of moping all day and stalking his profile like a creep.” Yeri’s crisp words cut through your musings and you glance up to see her entering your shared room in the dorms.

“Shut up. It’s not like I have a benevolent match-making professor who happens to pair me up with my crush for an end-of-semester project.” You retort back before sighing dramatically, “I literally have no excuse to talk to him. We’re not in the same year or major. We don’t even have mutual friends. Unless, y’know, you and Mark hit it off, who knows.”

Yeri sits down next to you on your small twin bed, resting her head on your shoulder while letting out an equally dramatic sigh, “yeah, well, Mark’s so dense, all the divine intervention in the world isn’t going to help me.”

You let out snort, “what’s up with you two anyway?”

“Y’know, I could’ve sworn he was into me and I had a chance with him, but every time we meet up we literally only work on the project and nothing else. Every time I sort of tried to do something I get shot down. Like I told him I was kind of chilly today in the library, and he looks all thoughtful for a moment but all he ends up saying is ‘yeah, all the buildings on campus are always cold, huh? Good thing I always bring a jacket with me. You should bring one too next time, I don’t want you getting cold.’ And then he just turns back to the project like nothing. Can you believe him?” Yeri complains and you swear her annoyance is palpable. “And every time I text him to hangout, he thinks it’s to work on the project. I honestly can’t tell if he’s really that stupid or if he’s just not into me.”

You laugh at her unfortunate, but undeniable state of love affairs.

“Really? That bad? I remember him being all blushy when he asked for your number,” you recall. “And you should’ve seen how he looked when he showed off he got your number. Well that’s what it looked like anyway, I could be wrong.”

“Well, at least I’ll get a good grade though. Mark is nothing if not diligent and hard-working, with him being a double major and all.” Yeri sounds resigned however, she sighs again, this time more frustrated and you hear the determination in her voice. “Alright, after finals, for sure we’re gonna hit the clubs. We need to let loose, have some fun.”

You agree with her to appease her short temper, but deep down you feel disappointed. You feel sorry for your friend, having genuinely wanted Mark and her to work out, but a small and selfish part of you felt sorry for having no bridge to Jaehyun at all if it didn’t work out between Yeri and Mark. Looks like you were stranded now and you’d have to find a way to Jaehyun one way or another, but your line of help ends here.

Shaking away such negative thoughts, you think to yourself how soju bombs and dance floors don’t so bad after such an intense exam period after all. It will definitely take your mind off of things for sure.

And even though you say this to yourself, you know your mind will still be plagued with Jung Jaehyun no matter how much you try.

3. What Is Love by EXO-K

careful contemplation.

“I can’t explain what I feel.”

“Mark, tell me you did not.” The disbelief in Johnny’s voice made the situation all the more hilarious and even Jaehyun, who’s the calmer of the two, couldn’t suppress the guffaw from escaping his lips.

The tips of Mark’s ears flush a light pink and he tries to deliver a convincing argument, but all that comes out is a meek stammer, further driving Johnny up the wall.

When Mark came up to his and Johnny’s room asking for advice, Jaehyun had an idea of where it was going to lead, considering Mark’s clueless disposition and inexperienced track record, but Jaehyun had no idea it was going to be this bad.

Mark, having developed a crush on a fellow vocal performance major in his music theory class, came to Johnny, his frat big, to spill his guts and ask for advice constantly. Being Johnny’s roommate, meant Jaehyun was also privy to all the details of Mark’s love life and he had no problem giving advice to the amusing first year student, which Mark appreciated because going to Johnny meant a clowning session before he could get any useful nuggets of information.

When Mark’s music theory professor randomly assigned the two for the end of semester project, Mark was one part excited and two parts nervous, resulting in a frazzled mess. He has been going up to the second room on the right of the second floor of the frat house almost every other day to ask for advice since then.

Johnny was thrilled when he initially heard of the project, already envisioning his little’s love prospects, stating something along the lines of “my little’s gonna get laid!”

However, now looking at Johnny rubbing his temples in exasperation, Jaehyun can tell that his roommate’s initial enthusiasm has dissipated.

Mark’s daily roadblock today consisted of his crush giving him the cold shoulder and being much more snappy than before in the project meet up earlier. Mark recalls Yeri’s anger toward him and racks his brain for an answer. Even Johnny and Jaehyun are stumped at the sudden behavior, assuming that things were going smoothly from Mark’s previous reports filled with clumsy, but endearing and ultimately positive signs. It’s only when Mark offhandedly mentions her so-called ‘strange’ comment about the temperature, does it become clear why Yeri’s attitude suddenly shifted so drastically.

“I mean, I don’t know what I did wrong.” Mark’s second attempt to defend himself has Johnny flaring his nostrils in indignation and Jaehyun has to turn away in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Dude, she’s so into you. Or, at least she was, I don’t know about it anymore.” Johnny starts after calming down. “She left herself wide open for you to take a clear shot and you effectively said to her face, ‘thanks but no thanks’ and then walked away. No wonder she’s pissed, I’d be pissed too.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do then?” Mark counters.

“Mark,” Johnny begins, his tone dry and coarse, “you’re killing me.”

Jaehyun deems this the perfect time to step in, the laughter about done coursing through his system at this point. He clears his throat before offering his input, “It’s not too, too bad. Johnny’s just being dramatic. If she likes you enough, she’ll probably forgive you if you play your cards right from here on out.”

Mark perks up, his attention solely on Jaehyun.

Jaehyun hums absentmindedly to himself, gathering and organizing his thoughts to properly explain exactly where and how Mark went wrong and what to do moving forward. When Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak, Mark is glued on to every word and Jaehyun can see the gears in his brain whirring at high speeds.

By the time Jaehyun is done, Johnny has calmed down and Mark nods his head fervently in understanding.

“Ah, that makes so much sense now! I got it now.”

Despite his assurances, both Johnny and Jaehyun know Mark will be back soon.

“Alright little, listen up,” Johnny starts. “Here’s the game plan from here on out.”

Johnny goes off on a sermon, determined to help his little ‘get some’ as Johnny so delicately puts it. Jaehyun can see it’s not the most tasteful of word choice for Mark to hear, but the youngest says nothing.

Lounging lazily in the bean bag on his side of the room, Jaehyun knocks his head back and thinks of a few weeks back when he accompanied Mark and some other frat members to the rec center for some basketball. Jaehyun remembers Mark was bemoaning the fact he forgot to ask for some girl’s number and it was as if a higher entity heard the boy’s laments and felt especially gracious, because right as they were passing the cafe, Mark stopped in his tracks and suddenly ran off into the busy building.

The group of frat boys watched him excitedly weave his way through the crowd of bodies and occupied tables to reach a table with two girls. When they saw the girl putting her number into Mark’s phone, Johnny elbowed Jaehyun, and like a proud parent Johnny exaggeratedly acknowledged his little. “They grow up so fast, don’t they, Jaehyun.” Johnny even wiped an imaginary tear from his eye to really send the message home.

It was only a few moments later and Mark came bounding out of the cafe, eager to show everyone how lucky it was that he happened to see her. “I mean what are the odds, right?” the said boy exclaimed so happily, his cheer so infectious, Jaehyun couldn’t help himself from letting out a laugh of his own.

Jaehyun turned to give Mark an encouraging pat on the back and it’s when he notices a pair of eyes on him. He turns fully to come in the direct line of sight of a girl whose eyes, Jaehyun imagined to have been very warm, had they not been burning holes into him. Her intense gaze slightly unnerved him, but not to the point of pulling away. He found himself entranced and the only thing that broke the quick spell was Johnny’s voice, calling him to move it along.

Jaehyun recalls easily breaking eye contact and giving little thought to the strange girl with fire for eyes, but as the days passed, Jaehyun couldn’t shake the thought of her from his mind.

Even now in the comfort of his room and with Johnny and Mark not even a foot away, carefully planning Mark’s love endeavors, all Jaehyun’s mind can really focus on is the thought of you.

Jaehyun is sure he’s only looked at you for less than a minute, but somehow he’s able to clearly trace out the image of you that day, like a perfect snapshot.

“Yo Jaehyun,” Johnny calls. “You good? You’ve been spacing out, bro.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jaehyun answers offhandedly, before contemplating to himself. Was he good? Jaehyun wouldn’t necessarily say he’s bad in any way, but it isn’t normal for him to have the thought of a girl remain so clearly engraved in his mind for so long, and even less common for it to actually be a girl he doesn’t even know nonetheless. It’s not a pressing issue, but it does bother him. He weighs over the next steps in his mind.

“Alright, just making sure.”

With one last thought, Jaehyun concludes to himself that it’s time to tackle his concern at hand head-on.

“Actually,” he starts, “Mark, do you remember the girl next to Yeri the day you asked for her number?”

Mark quirks his head in thought and Jaehyun can see Johnny raise his eyebrows in sudden interest.

“Uh kinda,” Mark answers. “I think she’s a CWP major. I’m pretty sure we shared an arranging class last semester, but like, I don’t know her personally or anything; it was a large lecture. To be honest, I don’t even think she recognized me at all, judging from her reaction that day. Why, what’s up?”

Jaehyun nods, absorbing the information, giving Johnny ample time to fire away.

“Yeah Jaehyun,” Jaehyun can visualize the glint in Johnny’s eyes just from hearing his mischievous tone. “What is up? I haven’t seen you ask about a girl in a hot minute. Thought you suddenly went abstinent without telling me or something.”

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure how to reply. Without a doubt you were cute to Jaehyun and he wouldn’t be opposed for things to happen between the two of you, but he doesn’t even know you! Well, not that it’s been a problem for Jaehyun in the past, but your lingering presence bothers him in ways he cannot communicate. Why is that the thought of you won’t leave him and why does it bother him so much?

Jaehyun decides to be straightforward, as straightforward as his muddled brain allows him to be. “She’s cute. I wanna get to know her.”

“Okay, Jaehyun.” Johnny whoops obnoxiously. “I see you.”

Mark is surprised and suddenly Johnny is all fired up again. Abruptly, Johnny shoots up and the determination that burns in his eyes is admirable.

“I’ve got it!” He declares proudly.

Jaehyun and Mark are quiet, waiting patiently for him to continue. They say nothing, knowing there is not a thing that can reach him when Johnny gets like this.

“We’re throwing a party and you bet your ass your two girls are gonna be there.”

4. Heaven by Ailee

walking on Cloud 9.

“When I hear your voice, it feels like I’m dreaming.”

You look up at the two-story house before you and wonder how you got here. Actually, you don’t wonder at all because you know exactly how you ended up at the steps of the local performing arts fraternity at your college, but you sigh regardless, as if someone had weaseled you into being here. Your nerves gnaw at you and you feel your stomach doing all types of aerobic tricks, the feeling reminiscent of the sensation before the roller coaster drops.

Yeri grabs your hand and pulls you excitedly to the front door. You can feel the thrum of music emanating from the building.

You recall how Yeri almost jumped you to tell the good news.

Finals flew by without any major hitches, ignoring sleepless nights and caffeine crashes. You don’t know how you’ll do, but you’re satisfied with your exam performances. You were in the clear and were just waiting for Yeri to present her joint music theory project before the both of you could finally let loose as a celebration to end the school year.

You waited for her outside of the classroom building as promised, playing with your phone to past time until you were suddenly engulfed by a delighted pair of arms. Yeri hugged you tight; she was in high spirits, seemingly from acing her presentation and you hugged her back in congratulations. She pulled at you closer and whispered in your ears, “just say yes.”

You were confused, but looked up to see Mark headed toward the two you. Yeri released you, leaving one arm still slung casually over your shoulder.

“Hey guys. My frat’s throwing a party tonight to celebrate finishing exams. I was wondering if, uh, you guys wanted to come? I mean you don’t have to, it’s totally optional.”

You didn’t say anything at first and Yeri interjected, “Of course!” She smiled at you innocently despite harshly pinching you to respond, her action hidden from Mark’s sight. “We’d love to, right?”

“Uh,” you answered distractedly. “Y-yeah, sure.”

“Great.” Mark beamed. “Party starts at eight. I gotta go help set up, so I’ll see ya there!”

And with that, he left as soon as he arrived and you looked at Yeri questioningly for answers. “I thought we were hitting downtown tonight. What happened to club hopping?”

Yeri smiled devilishly, “change of plans. I’ll tell you more about it later. The most important thing is finding the perfect outfit for you tonight, cause Jaehyun’s gonna be there.”

And so, here you find yourself dressed in high-waisted shorts and a cute top that took an embarrassingly long time to decide on. You are greeted by the fraternity president at the door of the house, Taeyong you think his name is, and he gives you two a quick verbal tour of the place, really emphasizing where to get drinks. Yeri thanks him for the both of you and you enter the crowded house. You think at least half of the performing art majors must’ve been here judging by the sheer volume of packed bodies.

You remember Yeri explaining how she and Mark may have been making a breakthrough and this party was imperative for its success. You were completely okay attending for that reason alone, because after all, what kind of person sends her best friend to a frat party alone? However, your resolve to go was set in stone after she explained that the frat that was throwing the party just happened to be the same frat Jaehyun was a member of.

“And y’know, seeing as how you’ve been obsessing over him the past few weeks, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You frown remembering her words and make your way to the kitchen with Yeri in tow. Various beverages, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, crowd the table and you recognize the guy standing nearby idly chatting with others. It’s Jaemin, an acting major in your history lecture with whom you frequently exchange notes with when either one of you decides to flake for the day. You vaguely recall him mentioning his fraternity association, but didn’t realize it happened to be this one. He sees the two of you approaching the drink table and he smiles widely.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” Jaemin greets casually. “Didn’t expect to see you here. How’d you think you did in the history final?”

You groan. “I don’t even want to talk about it. What’s important is that we’re finished and I won’t ever have to think about the WWII timeline for, hopefully, forever.”

“Amen,” Jaemin laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” He raises up his red solo cup to cheers, before realizing both you and Yeri had nothing to drink.

“Oh shit, I’m a pretty bad host, huh? First thing I should've done was get you two something to drink.” He chides himself, but his tone is playful. “What can I get for you, ladies?”

Before you can think about what you want, Yeri cuts you off, her tone matching Jaemin’s. “How about some shots to start off and we’ll forgive the lack of hospitality.”

Jaemin laughs again. “Alright, I like it.” His hands are adept at weaving around the table and finding the paper shot cups and the vodka. “Svedka’s okay, right?”

“We’re not picky.” You and Yeri agree. You take the shot in one gulp and the unpleasant burning in your throat makes you wince.

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think another shot and then a mixed drink. Anything’s fine, but preferably on the stronger side.” You look over at Yeri and she nods in agreement.

“Coming right up.” Jaemin agrees easily.

He pours the two of you another shot and you think he must be a generous guy because the shot is overflowing. You and Yeri cheer once more while Jaemin gets to work mixing a cherry bourbon with some Coke. He tops off the drinks with some ice before handing it over to the both of you. “Here they are. Enjoy, ladies.”

You thank him and take a sip before excusing yourself to make your way around the party. The drink is sweet and the smoky aftertaste of the bourbon gives it a pleasant edge. You and Yeri are attached to the hip as you drift from one part to another around the party, making easy going small talk along the way. You are sufficiently buzzed by this point and feel much lighter as though the party was somehow two degrees removed from your senses. You look over to check on Yeri and she’s noticeably drunker than you are, giggling about the simplest of things and slurring her words just the slightest bit. You make a mental note to ease the drinking, wanting to be sober enough to look after her in case anything were to arise.

The two of you are at the base of the stairs when you hear Mark’s voice calling Yeri’s name. You turn your attention upward to see him ambling down the stairs with excited fervor. His cheeks are flushed, more so than usual around Yeri, and you can tell it’s due to alcohol because Mark is holding her hands and you know he can never be so bold without the help of liquid courage.

“Yo Mark, slow down there.” A voice calls out and you look up again and you feel your breath caught in your throat.

There in front of your eyes is Jung Jaehyun in the flesh. He looks heavenly dressed in simple jeans and a white tee. You unconsciously swallow the lump in your throat and your heart beat gallops a mile a minute in your chest. Your mouth goes dry and you mindlessly gulp down swigs of your drink. You know Yeri would’ve sniggered at your current state had she not been so tipsy and completely preoccupied with Mark.

Jaehyun catches up to Mark and when he reaches the base of the stairs, he notices the two of you.

“Oh Jaehyun, lemme introduce you guys.”

As promised, Mark introduces everyone quickly and Jaehyun shoots a smile that seems to be aimed at you. “Nice to meet everyone.”

“Cool, now that everyone knows each other,” Mark starts. “Yeri, can I show you something?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

You give Yeri a hard look and she takes your hand to squeeze it in reassurance. She looks at you pleadingly and there’s a confidence in her eyes that you can’t argue with. You relent and let her go.

Mark takes her by the hand and leads her up the stairs while you watch, slightly worried.

Jaehyun seems to have sensed your apprehension because the words that leave his mouth snaps you out of your perturbed state. “Don’t worry. Mark’s a good kid, you have nothing to worry about. You have my word on it.”

And suddenly the situation dawns on you. The boy of your recent all-consuming infatuation stands here before you, and it’s just the two of you alone. Any social skills you have, leave you and you’re unsure of what to do.

Jaehyun notices the awkward tension in the air and works quickly to dispel it. “Your drink’s looking low. Can I get you something else?”

You look down to your drink to see that he was right. Only a few sips remain. You didn’t realize you had drank so much at the sight of Jaehyun.

“Um, some water would be good. I don’t want to be too hungover tomorrow.” You answer shyly. You also need to be sober enough to look after Yeri, but you decide to leave that out.

Jaehyun chuckles, “sure thing. Here, come with me. I’ll get you some water.”

Jaehyun leads you to the kitchen with ease, seamlessly weaving through the crowds of people. Every group of people he passes greets him loudly to be heard of the pounding bass of the music. You are not surprised to see how popular he is.

Once in the kitchen, he grabs you a bottle of water and a beer for himself from the fridge and you thank him. The cold water is refreshing, but it does little to cool your nerves. The awkward tension is high and still ever present. You feel as though you’re drowning in it and you also feel like running away from here despite this being what you’ve wanted for more than anything for weeks on end.

“So,” Jaehyun starts, clearing his throat. “Mark told me you’re a CWP major?”

“Uh, y-yeah, actually.” You hate how you’re so flustered around him. “How’d he know? Did Yeri tell him or something?”

“He said you guys shared an arranging class last semester.” Jaehyun recalls.

“Wait, really? I had no idea.” You start going off on how you could’ve missed such a thing and Jaehyun smiles. You’re much more comfortable when a rhythm has been established and the words flow out of you easily. You’re not as relaxed as where Jaehyun wants you to be, but he thinks it’s a good start.

You continue with small talk from there, much less uptight than before and you feel glad. Jaehyun is as radiant in person as he is in your imagination. You find him to be very kind and your heart flutters even more. Jaehyun mentions he’s a musical theatre major and you do your best to act surprised despite it being one of the only things you know about him prior to this moment.

Before he gets a chance to tell you more about himself, a tall boy with long limbs calls out to Jaehyun that it’s his turn to join the next game of beer pong. Jaehyun looks reluctant to leave and you don’t want him to leave either, but you’d hate to hold him back from prior engagements.

“Would you,” Jaehyun licks his lips in consideration, “like to play with me? I don’t have a partner.”

You nod your head and readily agree, eager to spend more time with him.

You’ve only played beer pong a handful of times and being around Jaehyun makes you nervous, so you miss the first few shots. You feel embarrassed, but Jaehyun is patient and assures you that it’s no problem at all. His little words of encouragement mixed with the beer you drink helps melt your tension, and halfway through the game, you’re whooping and hollering with everyone watching the game.

You high-five Jaehyun without a second thought after nailing a perfect shot and Jaehyun smiles even wider. The two of you are leading when Taeyong comes in to kick everyone out.

“Sorry guys, party’s over.”

Groans of complaints could be heard throughout the crowd, but Taeyong’s words are firm and he ushers everyone to leave. He has a few other frat members behind him helping out. He reaches the beer pong table and pulls Jaehyun aside. After a few exchanged words, Jaehyun nods in agreement and ends the game completely, apologizing to his opponents.

You’re confused, so you carefully ask Jaehyun what’s going on. He sees you and his gaze softens, he quietly explains, “apparently, the campus police have received multiple noise complaints and since the fraternity already has a strike, Taeyong doesn’t really want to risk another. “

“Ah, I see.” You nod. You’re saddened by the turn of events, having finally eased into a relative comfort around Jaehyun and you yearn for more. “Well, I better go look for Yeri then.”

This is a goodbye and you’re unsure of what else to say to him, your disappointment mixes with alcohol making you feel even more miserable. You want to ask for more, but can’t find the words to reach him. Luckily, Jaehyun does it for you.

“Are you free sometime this week?” He asks. “I feel like we didn’t get a chance to really talk and I’d like to.”

Your heart hammers and the blood rushes in your ears, but you still find yourself uttering a mousy agreement.

“Great,” his smile is dazzling and you feel dizzy. “It’s a date then.”

5. 24 Hours by Sunmi

rushed minutes.

“Time goes by so quickly.”

“Hey,” a distant voice calls out and Jaehyun looks up from his phone to see your approaching figure. Your cheeks are rosy from the summer sun and stray pieces of your hair escape from your loosely styled updo. Jaehyun takes all of you in with careful appreciation.

“Hey yourself.” Jaehyun chuckles, slipping his phone casually in his pocket and standing up straighter to greet you properly.

Jaehyun sees the red of your face flush brighter, the soft color bleeding across your cheeks and onto your nose. Cute, he thinks. He watches as you tighten your grip on your clutch, knuckles white with nervous tension, in an attempt to gather your composure and calm your nerves. You clear your throat, “I didn’t know you’d be here so soon. You should’ve texted me.”

“It’s all good, I finished early.” Jaehyun notices you no longer stutter around him like the first night you two met. He’s glad the days and nights of sober texting after exchanging numbers at the party did wonders to make you feel comfortable around him. He’s not too worried about your current ‘first-date’ anxiety, knowing it’ll be dispelled soon enough. “Shall we?” He moves to open the door and the cool rush of air from the cafe greets the two of you.

The cafe is quaint and cozy, tucked away in a small corner of intersecting back streets and crowded buildings. Jaehyun discovered the little spot not too long ago and something, Jaehyun assumes his instincts, compelled him to take you to it for the first official date. It just felt right.

The two of you walk to the order counter and you take it all in. You can hear the quiet chatter of the cafe occupants mixed with the rattle of espresso machines being put to work. Your eyes scan over the decorations and several potted succulents hanging from the ceiling. It’s incredibly homey and you feel at ease.

“Hiya, I can help the two of you whenever you guys are ready.” The barista is cheerful to a fault and Jaehyun watches you shoot her a grateful smile before your eyes move to the menu to decide on what to get.

Jaehyun knows what he wants, so he waits patiently for you to decide, but seeing your eyebrows scrunch together in indecision, Jaehyun chuckles to himself. “I hear the iced lattes here are really good, particularly the caramel latte,” he offers.

You perk up in surprise, but you recover quickly, “okay, that sounds good then. I was between that and the iced cocoa.”

“No problem, I’ll order then. Today’s on me.” Jaehyun says.

Jaehyun walks up to the barista and quickly places the order. He reaches for his wallet after the barista recites the order, but he falters slightly when he sees your gaze glued to the cake display, particularly the crepe cake.

“Can I get a slice of the chocolate crepe cake over there too?”

“Of course! Here’s your new total,” she turns the touch screen display over to Jaehyun and he readily inserts his card to pay. When finished, Jaehyun turns back the screen and after a few taps from the barista, a receipt is printed and she hands him a buzzer.

“Your order will be out shortly.” She informs him.

Jaehyun smiles and says a small ‘thank you’ in return before turning his attention to you. You look up to meet his eyes and you smile, “can we sit over there by the window?”

You head to the little corner table first with Jaehyun steadily in tow. You sit at the chair that leaves your back to the window and Jaehyun is mesmerized by how the afternoon sunlight refracts through your silhouette. You’re glowing and Jaehyun swallows thickly.

“So,” he starts. “What have you been up to?”

“Celebrating finishing my first year of college in one piece.” You laugh lightly. “I got by with passable grades, but other than that Yeri and I just finished moving into our new dorms. We’re no longer freshmen, so first year dorms are off limits. I’m gonna miss the convenient location.” You jokingly mope.

Jaehyun laughs easily with you and before he gets a chance to reply, the buzzer goes off so he excuses himself to go pick up the order.

A different barista places down a tray with your two drinks and a small slice of cheesecake with two dessert forks resting on some napkins. “Enjoy your order!”

Jaehyun smiles in thanks and picks up the tray to bring it back to the table. He can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see the mille crepe cake and true to his expectations, your eyes light up at the sight of dessert.

“Surprise.” He says. “I saw you looking at it earlier.”

Jaehyun watches as you immediately grab a small fork and try a piece of the cake with unrestricted child-like excitement. Your eyes light up at the taste of the delicate layers of fresh whipped cream and thin crepes and the smile you shoot in his direction has Jaehyun’s heart beating a little faster than he’s willing to admit.

“Thank you!” You look up at him. “It’s so good, you should definitely try a bite too.”

“Yeah? I’ll try some then.” Jaehyun sits down and leans even closer to you over the table, his mouth open and expectant and his eyes staring straight into yours.

You try your best to bite back the scarlet fighting to stain your cheeks as you cinch off a small section of the cake with your fork. Your hand falters just the slightest bit when delivering the small confection to his awaiting mouth, but you push through and feed him despite the embarrassment you feel.

Jaehyun chews slowly and deliberately, taking his time to lick the stray whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. You lose the game of chicken, breaking eye contact first.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s good. We should definitely come back.”

You let out a little awkward cough, desperate to ward off your cloud of emotions. “Uhm, yeah sure.”

Jaehyun has always thought you were cute, but he thinks you’re especially cute today.

“Anyway,” you start. You want to change the topic because you don’t think you can survive this tension without your brain frying. “I feel like I’ve just seen you around recently. I should’ve run into you a long time ago since the performing arts college is so small.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun is a little taken aback. “I used to be over at the East Campus. I was a business and administration major for two years before I switched over to musical theatre.”

“Wait really?” Your surprise erases any tension you felt earlier. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It doesn’t really come up in conversation.”

“Why’d you switch over? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Jaehyun contemplates his reply for a second as takes a sip of his coffee. “Well, when I entered college, I didn’t really know what I wanted, so I just followed whatever my parents wanted me to do. I actually knew I liked musical theatre for the longest time, but it took time for me to build up the courage to switch. My parents weren’t happy with it at first and we fought for the longest time, but I think they’ve warmed up to it enough by now. I’ve never really talked about this though, I just tell people I transferred from a different college and the conversation just ends there I guess, but it’s really no big deal.”

“Thank you for telling me this, Jaehyun.” Your voice is sincere and Jaehyun believes you.

“What about you, hm?” Jaehyun returns. “Why CWP?”

“I don’t really have one point that changed my life and helped me find my calling or whatever,” you ponder with a tilt of the head and the taste of cream dissolving in your mouth. “But ever since I was little, I always knew I was gonna end up doing something in music. I was never good at singing though, so vocal performance was out the door and I wasn’t that interested in classical instruments either, so that helped me narrow stuff down. Actually, what really helped me decide was during orientation, my group leader was a contemporary writing and production major and she told me all about it and I’ve been sold ever since. I really like it though, and have no intention of switching.”

“That’s good. Sometimes I wish I switched earlier.” Jaehyun muses. “I feel so behind sometimes. Most people in my class have already been in at least one musical and an internship, except for me. I think about it a lot, but I try not to let it get me so down.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way!” You try your best to cheer him up, and Jaehyun appreciates it a lot more than he thought he would. “Everyone has their own pace, that’s what college is all about! Nothing is ever wasted time. You can think of your time as a business admin major as a way to help you make up your mind on your true passion. You told me you’ve always liked musical theatre, but I’ve bet without the time in business, you would’ve never known you liked it enough to pursue a career out of it.”

Jaehyun laughs at your earnesty. He thinks you’re a touch naive, but your words make him feel light. “You’re right. I can say for sure I wasn’t happy as a business major.”

“See? Nothing is ever wasted time if you can discover your true happiness out of it.”

The two of you exchange easy chatter after that and between small bites of cake and sips of coffee, Jaehyun thinks you’ve become prettier and prettier.

“What was it like?” You ask absentmindedly.

“Hm? What was ‘what’ like?”

“Being a business and administration major.”

Jaehyun has to think about it. He recalls constantly dressing up for group presentations and boring lectures, but his mind wanders to his activities outside the classroom. He remembers the constant partying and the blur of faces that helped him keep his bed warm. He remembers brief flings and relationships cut short. He doesn’t want to think about those things when he’s next to you. “Uhm. It was okay, nothing special, but that reminds me–”

“Yeah?”

“Are you free next weekend?”

“I should be. Why, what’s up?”

“Great,” Jaehyun smiles while taking the last sip of his coffee. “I’m having a housewarming party at my new apartment. You should definitely be there.”

The day of the long awaited housewarming party rolls up sooner than expected between settling into your new dorm with Yeri and the occasional small ‘get-togethers’ with Jaehyun. They’re actually dates if you're being honest, but you don’t want to put a title on anything in case he wasn’t on the same page as you. Being with Jaehyun made you giddy in more ways than one, but that means the anxiety that pools at the base of your stomach grows larger each day when the relationship between the two of you goes unnamed. You feel greedy when you desperately grasp at the shred of time you share with him, always unwillingly to let go.

“Are you ready?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your small reverie. Her hand is poised, ready to knock on the black door of Jaehyun’s apartment, waiting for you to gather your composure. Yeri is dressed to the nines in a cute skirt with a top to match. She wants to look good for her new boyfriend and you teased her endlessly for it when the two of you were getting ready.

“Mark’s one lucky guy.”

“Shut up. Worry about yourself.”

“All I do is love you, yet you’re so mean to me.”

Regardless of her harsh words toward you, she helped you toss your closet inside and out for the perfect outfit to woo Jaehyun, even if it meant showing up late to the party.

The two of you leave your dorm twenty minutes later than you intended and it also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s apartment was difficult to find, tucked away in a small building between towering skyscrapers, but now is finally the moment of truth.

“Yeah, I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you mutter as you watch Yeri knock on the door.

It takes a minute before the door creaks open and Jaehyun’s head pops out. His smile is radiant and you’re absolutely ensnared by the way his fringe falls over his forehead.

“Hey, glad you two could make it.” Jaehyun opens the door wider to allow you and Yeri to enter. He greets Yeri with polite warmth while he wraps an arm over your shoulders. When Yeri heads in the apartment first with her back against the two of you, Jaehyun steals a quick peck to your temple and whispers, “you look pretty tonight.”

His touch is fleeting and he pulls back quickly, as if you imagined the whole thing, but his cheeky smile tells you that it really did happen. Your heart hammers and you force yourself to focus on the steady thrum of mellow R&B that reverberates throughout his apartment to calm yourself. You take his apartment in steady strides with your full attention. It’s sleek and modern with a few pops of his personality here and there in the form of trinkets decoration choices.

“Hey!” Johnny calls over from the couch. He has a beer in hand, but he’s far from tipsy. Flanked on one side is Doyoung with another beer to match and on the other is Sicheng. Seulgi, the girl, who you assume is Sicheng’s significant other, by the way his arm is casually wrapped around her waist, is also there and she nods at you in greeting. You've come to know about all of them after hanging out with Jaehyun so much. “Did you guys get lost or something?”

“Yeah,” Yeri replies as she moves to sit next to Mark who’s on the adjacent loveseat and resting a drink on the coffee table. “Something like that.”

She places a sweet kiss to the corner of Mark’s mouth in greeting and you swear you can hear him crooning at the attention.

“Doesn’t matter, Johnny. The important thing is that they’re here now.” Jaehyun interjects. “Do you guys want anything to drink?”

“That’d be nice.” You hum.

Yeri laughs in agreement, “yeah, the two of us could never say no to a drink.”

“Alright, I’m on it.” Jaehyun calls while moving to the kitchen. “Any preferences?”

“No,” you say. “Surprise us.”

Jaehyun works to mix drinks and you take a seat on the floor next to the coffee table to observe the party. Perched on the shelf of a slender bookcase in the corner of his living room is a bluetooth speaker playing music, the rhythm quiet and bass steady as everyone chatters away once introductions are made on the sofas. You remember him offhandedly mentioning that he doesn’t want any noise complaints on his first week in the new place and it makes sense. Jaehyun’s housewarming party is a quiet affair that is far different from the wild party at the frat house in which you met him, but you think this vibe fits Jaehyun more.

Jaehyun returns shortly with two drinks in tow for you and Yeri and sits himself snugly next to you on the floor. He picks his idle beer from the coffee table and once Johnny realizes that everyone in the proximity has a drink in hand, he raises his voice and beer in a toast. “It sucks that Taeyong couldn’t make it tonight, but here’s to having fun without him. We’re gonna get twice as fucked up to make up for his absence, cheers!”

Everyone lets out a chuckle, but obliges to humor him anyway and joins to connect their drink to his in cheers.

You pull your cup back and take a big gulp of the drink. It’s sweet and carbonated, but the sting of alcohol at your throat leaves you wincing just the slightest bit.

A few pleasantries are exchanged here and there, but it’s only then does Doyoung pull out a deck of cards with a devilish glint in his eyes that deceive his looks.

“Ring of fire, anyone?”

After who knows how many rounds of ring of fire (and maybe a few other drinking games here and there) with too many drink refills for you to remember, you somehow find yourself splayed on the couch and leaning over Yeri’s shoulder in support. Seulgi is on the other side of you leaning on you for support, the same way you’re doing to Yeri, but you don’t mind it one bit. The three of you have grown surprisingly close with one another throughout the night.

Your mind is lucid enough to still be conscious and completely aware of where you are and what you’re doing, but the alcohol in your system eats away at the details in your memory.

You vaguely recall ridiculous punishments that involved Johnny twerking on the dining room table and Mark taking a shot of Jack Daniels mixed with ketchup, and you can’t help but snicker to yourself.

“I think we should get going now.” Sicheng is the first to speak as he moves to help Seulgi up. “It’s getting late.”

Doyoung looks a little groggy, but when he checks the time, he perks up immediately, “oh shit, you’re right. I need to get going too, I’ve got something in the morning.”

With that everyone shuffles to clean the remnants of the party with as much grace as they can muster while intoxicated, which wasn’t much, but in twenty minutes, Jaehyun is already walking half the party to the door in goodbye. Only you, Mark, and Yeri are left.

“Hey Yeri,” Mark calls softly to Yeri as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Are you ready to go too?”

Yeri is still sprawled on the couch with you, but mumbles a small response. “Yeah, I should be. Give me a second.”

She turns over to you and nudges you just the slightest bit. “I’m gonna go back to Mark’s tonight, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her. “I’ll be fine, just go have fun.”

“She’s free to rest here until she’s ready to leave, don’t worry. I’ll call a cab for her when the time comes.” Jaehyun pipes up.

Yeri gives you a look, but you squeeze her hand one last time to give her some peace of mind. “I’m a big girl, Yeri. I’ll be okay, promise. I’ll walk you to the door, Mark’s waiting.”

You give Yeri a tight hug in goodbye and you find your way back to the couch. The fact that you’re all alone in Jaehyun’s apartment doesn’t hit because of the remnants of alcohol in your system melts away your nerves.

You’re pleasantly buzzed, lost in your own thoughts when Jaehyun comes up to you with a glass of water in hand. “Here, so you don’t feel as bad tomorrow morning.”

You accept it gratefully and take in big gulps, the water refreshing, but your skin feels hot.

Jaehyun takes a seat next to you and the proximity makes your head spin. You turn to look at him, and he flashes you a smile.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You might’ve mentioned something.” You tease. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well,” he hums. You’re not sure, but you think the distance between the two of you is decreasing. “You really do look stunning tonight.”

You flush at his words, but you look straight into his eyes. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Yeah? I try to impress.” Jaehyun’s eyes are hooded and your throat goes dry. “Can I kiss you?”

You say nothing at first, his words not registering into your muddled brain, but when you feel his breath ghost over your lips, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can taste the vodka on his breath, but to you it’s perfect. Jaehyun’s perfect.

Jaehyun kisses you with reserved passion and practiced expertise. His tongue sets the rhythm against yours and his roaming hands have you feeling as if you’ve been set ablaze. He pulls back just the tiniest bit and the intense longing for his touch that hits you is indescribable.

You pull him back in your arms and your lips reconnect in a desperate fervor. Jaehyun adjusts his arms around you and the next you know, you’re in his embrace and he’s carrying you to his bedroom. He places you down gently, his bed is plush and comforter soft.

Jaehyun’s touch is gentle as he gathers your face in his hands. He kisses you again and you wrap your arm around his neck to pull him closer. He pulls back and looks at you earnestly. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Everything’s moving so fast and you’re dizzy, but you don’t want whatever this is to stop. You want to be as close to Jaehyun as possible.

“No,” your voice is hoarse. “Don’t stop. I want you, Jaehyun.”

He kisses you again, this time unrestrained. His tongue is hot, but you can only savor it for a minute before he starts trailing kisses down your neck and tugging at your shirt. You let out a breathy moan in response to how his touches make you feel.

Jaehyun reaches at your shorts and makes quick work at unbuttoning them. You help him remove the article of clothing and his slender fingers dart inside your panties. You’re slick to the touch and Jaehyun must be made of magic because you think you’re seeing stars. You unravel before him embarrassingly quick, but he kisses you at the base of your clavicle in sweet reassurance.

Your chest is heaving, but you want more. You grab at Jaehyun’s shirt, urging him to take it off. The expanse of his abdomen is a sight to behold, but Jaehyun is cruel and doesn’t give you the time to take it in. He’s on top of you again, lips crashing onto yours once more. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and while he’s pre-occupied, you unbuckle his belt and steal a moment in his boxers. He feels thick and hot in your hands as you run your finger over the tip to feel a drop of pre-cum. He buckles just the slightest bit and it emboldens you.

Jaehyun helps himself out of his jeans and you push him onto the bed wanting to be on top this time. He’s straining against his boxers and you want to help relieve the tension. When you pull off his boxers you can feel his inaudible groan. You stroke his length gingerly and look up to see him with hooded eyes look right back at you.

This excites you so you take him in your mouth in a moment of unfiltered courage. Your tongue starts at the base before tracing your way up to his sensitive head. You tease him accordingly to his quiet grunts and groans and when you feel like he’s had enough, you take all of him in until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. You gag a bit, but push through.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun stutters out between stacatoed breaths. “Babe, you’re so good.”

You hum in pleasure at his praise and he grabs your hair. This goes on for a few more minutes before he reaches down to stop you. “Not that I don’t love this,” the look in your eyes nearly has him faltering his words, “but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

You relent with a slick pop and Jaehyun shifts over to rummage for a condom in his nightstand. You settle back down in his pillows. Jaehyun gives you a soft kiss on the lips before he enters you.

“Tell me when it’s okay to move,” he whispers and you place a small kiss at the base of his neck.

He starts off slow to let you acclimate to his size, but neither of you are very patient, so he ends up pounding into you a lot sooner than he anticipated and you find yourself getting caught up in the pleasure.

It feels like you’re dreaming, but if this was a dream, you never want to wake up.

6. Hush by Miss A

shh, no talking, just us.

“I can’t think straight.”

You and Jaehyun don’t become official until a few weeks later.

He asks you one day when you’re naked and out of breath. You’ve gone one too many rounds with him and a thin layer of sweat coats your body as you lay on his heaving chest. You absentmindedly draw shapes on his skin and he gives you a chaste kiss to your temple.

“We should date.” He hums. “I think I’d make a good boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” You raise your eyebrow in teasing.

“Yeah,” he ascertains. “Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think it over as if this wasn’t you’ve been hoping for since the first moment you laid eyes on him. “Okay. Let’s give it a try, boyfriend.”

Jaehyun laughs and you feel the world fall into its right place. “Alright, girlfriend.”

And the rest is history as they say.

Jaehyun isn’t your first, but you experience many firsts with him. You’re not exactly inexperienced, but he really opens your eyes.

“Fuck,” he groans into your neck. His hands grip at your hips to help guide you along, but you’re fully in charge. “You’re doing so good, babe. Just like that.”

You didn’t see yourself as someone who liked to take charge during sex, but after that one time Jaehyun asked you to top, you’ve never looked back since.

You roll hips into him and at a pace you know drives Jaehyun wild and you pull him into a sloppy kiss. It’s all tongue and no grace, but you love it the same regardless. You capture his bottom lips between your teeth playfully before pushing him flat on his back until he’s firm against his plush mattress. You place a hand on his chest and the other on his thigh to balance yourself and Jaehyun immediately knows you’re close.

A hand rests on your hip to steady you while the other snakes over to play with your clit to further stimulate you toward your climax. Jaehyun knows what you like and his timing is impeccable, so before you know it, both of you are reaching your highs together. You collapse on his chest and you allow yourself to stay in his warmth long enough to have your breaths synchronize before you extricate yourself from him to head to his bathroom.

When you come back out, he’s disposed of the used condom and opens your arm wide for a hug, which you gladly indulge in.

Time stops when you’re in his arms.

On the surface, it looks like Jaehyun likes to mix it up. He seems like an elusive guy with varied tastes, but the more time you spend with him, you realize he likes the control of seeing you unravel before him.

He likes the intimacy of missionary.

The close proximity to your body has him looking into your eyes and leaving you feeling the most vulnerable of ways. He has full access to your neck, which he lovingly claims as his own and you chide him the next day when you see scattered purple blooms. Jaehyun changes his pace on a whim and you fall to his mercy. When he takes you fast and hard, you see stars, but when thrusts in you with languid leisure, he has you begging for more.

He likes the intensity of taking from behind.

When you’re on your knees with your ass in the air, he takes it as a guarantee to fuck you senseless. Your muffled moans makes his dick twitch and you swear you can feel him fuck into you even faster. Jaehyun always makes sure to wrap his arms around you to finger your clit until you go into sensory overload and he doesn’t stop pounding into you until there are tears in your eyes. He kisses each one away before taking your lips in his and you can taste the salt water on his tongue.

He likes the dominance from eating you out.

He laps at your core like a starved man and makes good use of his adept fingers until your head is spinning. Jaehyun makes it a habit to eat you out until you’re satisfied before he gets his turn. When your thighs are on either side of his head and your hands tangled in his hair, he swears he can stay there forever.

Above all, Jaehyun just likes you. He likes being with you and he definitely likes fucking you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mmmh,” you breathe out.

Your back is flush against Jaehyun’s back as you rock your hips back and forth on his dick. You grind your ass back even harder when he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

He kisses your shoulder blade from behind and bucks his hip upward to meet you in the middle.

The afternoon sunlight is streaming in from the gaps of his blinds and you want to take it nice and slow today. The television in front of you is playing a movie, but you’re too enraptured by the feeling of him filling you to the brim to pay it any mind.

“I love it when you’re on top, babe.” he hums as he plays with your clit.

You let out another breathy groan before you can find the composure to bite back at him. “What happened to no sex today, hmm? I thought we were just going to have innocent quality time together and watch a movie.”

Jaehyun must’ve not liked your sass, so he bucks up harder. He’s telling you to pick up the pace and you oblige. Before you know, you’re practically bouncing on his dick and you can feel your impending high about to crash down on you. He can sense it too and maintains his tempo. When you cum, Jaehyun rides on the tail of your climax in pursuit of his own. He cums shortly after with stuttering hips and a bite on your shoulder. He gathers you in his arms and runs his tongue soothingly over where he bit you and the various love bites that he’s littered on the expanse of your skin.

“Just being with you is quality time in itself.” He says. “Besides, class is starting soon, so I won’t get to see you as much.”

7. Disturbance by BoA

a ripple on the surface.

“I didn’t know at first.”

“So I do have a roommate after all,” Yeri’s voice calls out and you turn over to see her standing by the doorway. You roll your eyes at her, but quickly turn back to gather your things.

She lets out a chuckle, but you don’t miss the sour edge to her tone. “I thought I got a single dorm since it’s so empty all the time.”

“You say that, Yeri,” you retort. “But I know you’re over at Mark’s constantly so I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

“Yeah, but I make time to come back here and I always let you know when I’m going out. I feel like I’ve only seen you maybe once or twice the past few months. I feel like the only reason I see you these days is ‘cause of classes.”

“You’re just exaggerating, don’t be so dramatic. Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

She looks displeased, but nothing leaves her lips as the two of you head out for the day.

It’s late.

When night falls, shadows come out to play and your college campus is riddled with them. The school auditorium is situated in the far corner of the campus and the lamp lights of the main walkways do little, but you pay it little mind. Jaehyun should be getting out soon.

It takes another ten minutes to see him emerge from the double doors and you perk up immediately at the sight of him. He looks a little shocked to see you, but greets you with a warm hug and small peck regardless.

“Hey,” his voice is small, almost reserved. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you I was finishing late tonight.”

“Oh, you did, but I still wanted to see you.” You explain, eyes bright and tone undeterred.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he licks his lip. “But it’s really late and I still have more stuff I need to work on. I’ll see you some other time, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. Next time.”

“Oh hey,” you smile, but Yeri’s fury is palpable and cuts through you.

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me.” She spits out. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Sheepish, you reply, “oh sorry. I forgot to fully charge it before leaving and Jaehyun and I have different phones, so I couldn’t charge it at his place.”

“You were at Jaehyun’s?” Yeri is glaring at you at this point and you feel a bit peeved.

“Yeah. What of it?”

Yeri’s been getting angry at you recently, losing her temper at the drop of a hat, and you can’t seem to pinpoint why. You’re getting tired of being her punching bag.

“We made plans to go shop for Seulgi’s gift today. You promised you’d be there, don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit.” It completely slips from your mind and you open your mouth to apologize, but Yeri cuts you off before you get the chance.

“Forget it. I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Yeri turns to leave before you can say anything back.

8. Symptoms by SHINee

something’s wrong.

“The worse it gets, the more exhausted I get.”

Jaehyun feels off.

He can’t pinpoint exactly what he is that he’s feeling, but he thinks it’s reminiscent of his world being tilted by six degrees. It’s not immediately jarring and takes little time for his eyes to register, but he’ll occasionally bump his toe, signalling that this isn’t right. Things aren’t where they’re supposed to be. His head spins just the slightest bit and he feels woozy, but he doesn’t know why.

Jaehyun just feels off.

Jaehyun checks the bulletin board of his school auditorium almost religiously.

Each time before and after class, he’ll swing by and peruse the flyers that hang from haphazardly stuck on pins. He ignores the tutoring offers and the part time jobs scams, his main focus is almost always on the center of the board where they post the upcoming musical theatre production and eventually, the cast list.

This semester, the chosen production is La La Land and Jaehyun has been dead set on landing the role of Sebastian Wilder. He stays back extra late each day to practice the script and to work on his singing and annunciation.

On the day of the audition, he’s sure he’s nailed it and thinks to himself the world must be ending if he weren’t to get the leading role.

When he leaves the auditorium in a rush, excitement flows through his veins and he drinks in the night air as a toast of victory. He’s tipsy on his excitement and wants to laugh out loud, but in the corner of his vision, he sees you. Your eyes light up the sight up, outshining the moon and the stars, but your visage does not elicit the reaction he thinks it should. He expects his heart to swell and burst, but somehow he feels heavy.

He pulls you in for a hug and a quick kiss to quell his weighted heart, but he thinks he’s starting to sink so he calls you off for the night. He’ll see you next time.

Yeah, next time will be better.

You’re snuggled up close and personal on Jaehyun’s chest. Jaehyun notices you fill every nook and cranny of his being perfectly to a tee, and yet that feeling. It’s there again.

Jaehyun feels off.

You laugh at something one of the characters say and you cuddle harder into him. He feels heavy again and it makes his throat itch, so he swoops down and captures your lips.

It’s hard and fast to scrub away at his uneasiness and before he knows it, his clothes are missing, but so are yours. The foreplay is brief and almost impersonal, but he doesn’t care. He just needs to be inside you.

When Jaehyun has you begging and writhing, he feels like the world is where it should be. No longer is he living at a slight angle when he’s buried to the hilt inside your warmth, so when he sees you, he does what he can to get you out of your pants.

Today is no different from any other.

After a satisfying session you roll on his chest. Your kiss is soft and sweet despite the sweat that covers both of your bodies. He hums quietly as he taps melodies on along your exposed spine.

“Jaehyun?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I love you.”

Ah. Jaehyun thinks he’s getting it now, why he’s feeling off.

Jaehyun thinks he’s being suffocated.

To the surprise of no one, and especially not to him, Jaehyun gets the leading role of Sebastian Wilder in La La Land. He was a shoe-in for it anyway and he made sure to put in the work to get it.

His leading lady is someone by the name of Park Sooyoung, but at the first rehearsal she introduces herself as Joy.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She offers her hand out in a friendly greeting. “Here’s to a successful show together, Jaehyun.”

Her smile is blinding and he thinks Joy is a fitting name. He grasps her outstretched hand, grip firm and sure.

“Yeah,” he smiles back. “Here’s to a good show together.”

Rehearsals span over blurred minutes and long hours.

Jaehyun sees less and less of you and spends more and more time with her.

During a quick water break, he scans his phone briefly to see a text notification from you. He takes another swig of water and returns to the rehearsal.

It’s okay, he can always text you back later.

9. Before U Go - TVXQ!

letting go.

“I will leave now.”

“Come on!” You tug both Mark and Yeri along excitedly. “I want to get good seats.”

Yeri rolls her eyes, but obliges anyway, pulling Mark along. It’s opening night for Jaehyun’s big musical and you wanted to be there no matter what to support him. Johnny, Doyoung, Taeyong, Sicheng, and Seulgi are already inside waiting and you’re not sure if they were able to save the three of you a spot.

After a long chat with Yeri, you apologized profusely to her. You did get blinded by your relationship with him and prioritized him over everything, forgetting your friends and other responsibilities in the process. Yeri forgave you easily and helped keep you in line when you went to head over heels for Jaehyun.

However, after patching things up with Yeri, you begin to notice a shift in your relationship with Jaehyun’s. You’re not quite sure how to describe it, but it almost feels like a distance almost.

You chalk it up to his busy rehearsal schedule and choose not to dwell on the topic, in fears of your wandering imagination. It should be fine. After his musical is over, he’ll be less busy and things will fall back into place.

Right?

“Over here!” Seulgi waves over excitedly.

The auditorium is starting to fill up and you want to get comfortable before the show starts.

Everyone greets each other in hushed tones and soon enough, the show starts.

Right. Everything will be fine.

Jaehyun does amazing.

Your eyes are trained on him the whole time and his singing has goosebumps pricking your skin. You can see the passion pour through him every time he’s on stage and you couldn’t be more proud.

A nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach points out the undeniable chemistry between him and his co-star, but you push it deep down and suppress it.

They’re actors, and they’re good at what they do.

Yeah. They’re just acting. Yeah. Acting.

When the curtains close, you’re the first to shoot out of your seat, eager to meet him backstage. You weave through the endless crowd of people, murmuring your ‘sorry’s’ and ‘excuse me’s’ as you pass by. You reach the base of the backstage and shoot a message to let him know you’re waiting. You hum to yourself when you happen to overhear a conversation playing out.

“You did so good, Jae.”

“No, you definitely carried the show.”

You turn up and you see them. Her eyes are almost soft and loving as she pulls your boyfriend in for a hug. They linger in the embrace longer than necessary and you clear your throat to catch his attention.

He jolts just the slightest bit when he sees you and immediately lets her go.

“Everyone’s waiting,” you say quietly.

“Okay,” he nods. “Let me go get my stuff in the back.”

Jaehyun leaves the two of you alone and you wait for him to get back.

When you leave, he waves goodbye to her and she smiles back.

Jaehyun’s celebration party is rowdy, but it’s to be expected when Johnny is the one hosting.

He books a table at the local club and even orders bottle service. The eight of you work your way through two whole bottles of tequila and are already on your third. Jaehyun is downing the shots at a quicker pace than usual and you’re a bit concerned, but you’re unable to say anything because when you try, he whisks himself away to the dance floor and strikes up a conversation with someone else.

You’re perturbed, but you say nothing. This is his celebration night and he can choose to enjoy it how he wishes.

By the end of the night, Jaehyun is noticeably drunk and you haul him outside to get a breath of fresh air in hopes of sobering up. He’s heavy, but you make it out the side door. You prop him up on your side as you lean on the grimy brick walls.

Months have passed and the weather is chilly.

Jaehyun’s body sways and he murmurs something in your ear. You don’t catch it the first time, the overwhelming smell of tequila overtaking your senses.

“What was that?”

He grumbles beneath his breath, steps staggering once more. He tries again, this time his words are crisp and clear and they cut into you in more ways than one.

“I think we should end it.”

For someone so drunk, he sounds so sober.

You’re at a loss for words. A part of you knew this was coming from his lack of enthusiasm around you and his decreased texts. Even the cold night air couldn’t keep your heartbreak at bay. You say nothing, but you understand the both of you knew it was a silent agreement.

You breathe out wisps of chilled air as Jaehyun’s inebriated body stays slumped over on your side.

You volunteer to take Jaehyun home.

You tuck him gently in bed making sure to prop him on his side in case he vomits during the night. You pour a glass of water and place an ibuprofen on his nightstand drawer for him in the morning.

You kiss him on the forehead one last time. You hope it conveys all of the things brewing in your heart at the moment, but you know it doesn’t.

Later, you leave his apartment with all of your belongings that you ever left there with the stars as your witness.

You never return to his place again.

10. Coffee Shop by B.A.P

what could’ve been.

“So without knowing, like a habit, I came here.”

Jaehyun wakes up to an empty bed.

Morning sunlight streams through his blinds and burns at his skin as a sign to get ready for the day. He blinks the drowsiness from his system and stretches his weary joints before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

On his rare day offs, he allows his body to go on auto-pilot. He completely shuts his brain off and allows it to do whatever it chooses.

Today, it takes him back to the cafe.

His body knows where it’s going before it registers in his mind.

The barista manning the order counter is different, but the decorations are the same, still the same succulents hanging from the ceilings. He mulls over the menu and goes up to order.

“Can I get an iced caramel latte?” Jaehyun doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s feeling nostalgic today.

“Of course! Here’s your total.”

He pays with a swipe of his card and the barista goes to work making his drink. He waits around by the counter and soon enough, his drink is ready. That particular table is empty, so he grabs a chair to sit. His first sip is overly saccharine, but he appreciates how the flavor mellows out by the end of it.

It’s been nearly a year since that night.

Jaehyun remembers waking up to a splitting headache and a dry mouth. He thought nothing of the prepared setup as he gulps the ibuprofen and the glass of water in one go. Nothing seemed amiss really until a few days later.

No one mentioned your name around him and he caught Seulgi giving him a look every now and then. Mark didn’t say much either, but Jaehyun felt him drifting away.

He thought he’d feel a lot more, but he didn’t. One day you were a part of his life and then the next day you weren’t. It really was that simple.

He kept in contact with Joy even after La La Land was over and maybe they were something more, but it didn’t last longer than a few weeks.

It didn’t feel right when he was with her. Again, something felt off, but a different kind of off.

Joy was the one to end things with him, but he didn’t mind too much.

He filled his days with study and practice and it wasn’t until he landed a job at his local theatre company that he realized.

It was you. It was always you and perhaps it still is you.

Maybe you were different. Maybe you were the one, but Jaehyun didn’t try.

He recalls feeling smothered. You were always there at the beginning, but he took that for granted.

There are a lot of things he regrets, but above all, he regrets not talking with you. He regrets not trying to work on it. He regrets being a coward and running away at the first signs of true emotions.

You weren’t perfect, but neither was he, but he should’ve stayed so the both of you could work it out together. Jaehyun always did take too long to find the courage to pursue what he wanted.

With a final sip, he finishes the drink and moves to throw it away. Then, he sees you. Here, in the flesh, in almost a year.

Your hair is longer, but your cheeks are still as rosy as ever. You walk up to order and Jaehyun thinks it’s a sign. He moves to greet you, but the doors open again and in walk Yeri and Seulgi. He watches you greet them warmly with wide open arms.

You always did give the best hugs.

Jaehyun watches the three of you chatter away and he feels acutely out of place in the little cafe. You look happy and he should move on.

He throws his finished cup in the trash can and moves to exit through the side door, but he moves too slowly.

“Jaehyun, is that you?” You call out. He looks into your steady gaze and almost feels shy.

“Yeah,” he’s quiet. “It’s been awhile.”

“It has,” you agree. “You look well.”

The smile you give him has him believing in second chances and maybe he’ll get it right this time.

Note: i am so sorry that the second part is a hot mess express smh… there were a lot of things i planned and intended that didn’t happen, but i’ll just take this as a learning experience and write and better story next time. thanks for taking the time to read this !! <3

masterlist.

#nctcreations #cznnet #neowritingsnet #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff

790 notes · View notes

polikszena · 2 years ago

Text

For a little bit of sunshine - Chapter 4

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Summary: He is one of the country’s best naval aviators, she is a dance instructor and a writer. He has been called back to Top Gun for an extremely dangerous mission, she is battling her insecurities. They meet at a bar. This is their story.

Relationships: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female OC

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3

Chapter summary: After realizing that Rooster doesn't feel the same way as she does, Maggie decides to move on and goes on a line dancing event with Keeley and her friends.

Songs: Hello Mr Heartache by The Chicks, Gives You Hell by The All American Rejects, The Lasso Ranch playlist

Word count: 1565

A/N: Originally, I wasn’t planning to send Maggie to a country club, but after rewatching Footloose, I wanted to see her doing some country dancing. Also, since I couldn’t decide what song should be on at the end of the chapter, I put together a playlist with upbeat country songs that could be played in The Lasso Ranch and any of them can fit that scene. You can find a link to the playlist in the songs section.

Chapter 4 - High value

I will be okay, no matter what.

Lying in her bed with her legs tangled into the covers, Maggie Rose Miller had to realize she wasn’t okay. No matter how many times she repeated that sentence like a mantra or how many Just Dance routines she had done, she still wasn’t feeling better.

Two days had passed since the realization that Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, the first annoying, now attractive piano guy didn’t like her the same way as she did, and she was still feeling bad about it. Sadness, anger, disappointment, and shame came to visit and they didn’t want to go away. She was sad due to the fact that Rooster didn’t like her enough (or at least it seemed so) which made her angry - mostly with herself for letting this happen again, for liking someone who didn’t reciprocate the feeling. This led to the disappointment that despite all the hard work on herself, she was still back at the beginning, doing what she was the best at: being a letdown. Right now, to herself. And then along came the shame she felt for not being able to learn from her own mistakes and for letting herself be fooled by a couple of phone calls and encounters she didn’t dare call dates. Oh, and for not being able to move on just yet. Based on the books she read and the videos she watched, she thought that a confident, high value woman would get over a guy in a snap. He didn’t like her? She’d just shrug it off and move on, most probably to Nancy Sinatra’s These Boots Are Made for Walking. In Maggie’s head, however, Hello, Mr Heartache by The Chicks was playing on repeat, and no matter how many times she snapped her fingers, the feelings were still there. Perhaps this was an exaggeration, but she definitely felt like these women moved on in a blink of an eye which was something Maggie couldn’t do. And it gave her another reason to hate herself.

While having breakfast, she was sweeping through her journals, hoping to find something about moving on, asking herself the question: what would a confident woman do? Well, apparently, a confident woman would not suppress her feelings. A confident woman accepts them and doesn’t think things like ‘How dare you like him? He’s so out of your league!’ No, a confident woman never puts a man on a pedestal, even if he is a Top Gun pilot and dances like a dream.

“What would a confident woman do in such a situation?” she asked herself once she finished reading.

Well, she would acknowledge the feeling: it sucks when he doesn’t like you enough. Then she would give herself time to mourn the relationship - or in this case, the potential. She would wallow, she would blast Gives You Hell in her car with the windows down (if that was her thing), then she would move on towards the new possibilities.

And that was exactly what she was going to do, too.

***

And truth be told I miss you And truth be told I’m lying…

The next morning, Maggie woke up with Gives You Hell playing in her head. She didn’t feel much better than the day before, but this time it was mostly due to the lack of sleep - perhaps it wasn’t the best idea starting to watch The Ugly Truth at midnight. Getting out of bed she spotted her notebook left open on her desk. Taking a look inside, she saw the rough outline of a story idea. She had some blurred memories of pacing up and down in the living room with first a glass, then with a bottle of wine, thinking about a notoriously single woman - the last one standing amongst her friends and family - and a male relationship coach who would have to team up for some reason, and of course would end up falling in love with each other. His name would be Brandon, he’d be in his mid-thirties, with a mustache, looking like a character from an ‘80s TV show.

“That was very smooth, Maggie,” she told herself with a headshake.

On the other hand, she took this as a good sign. A confident woman would totally turn her misery into something creative. And make a voodoo doll, she added in thoughts. Oh, wait. That’s a good one! She picked up a pen and quickly wrote it down.

Even though she was still listening to Gives You Hell when she arrived at the fitness center, Maggie was feeling a lot better.

“Tomorrow we’re going out with the girls,” Keeley Morrison told her when she entered the building, saying hello to the receptionist and Toni Álvarez who was chatting with her. “It’s line dancing night at The Lasso Ranch.”

Toni skeptically raised a brow, but to his surprise, Maggie smiled at the offer. Line dancing wasn’t really her cup of tea, but she felt it was a good opportunity to try something new and a confident woman would definitely do that.

“Sure, why not?” she said.

“Line dancing, really?” Toni echoed, still being skeptical.

“It’s a good opportunity to step out of my comfort zone,” Maggie said with a shrug.

“Yeah, but line dancing? Sorry, Keeley, it’s really not my thing,” he admitted, then turned back to Maggie. “You might as well try kizomba.”

“Yeah. Or go swimming with sharks. Thanks, but no thanks,” she said.

“Nice try, though,” Keeley said to Toni who nodded his head.

“Count me in tomorrow,” Maggie said then headed to the locker room to change.

***

The Lasso Ranch was a bar in San Diego run by a retired aviator with the call sign “Lasso” who organized line dance nights regularly. Seeing all the cowboy boots, denim vests and cowboy hats she felt underdressed in her denim shorts and a blue plaid shirt worn over a plain black tank top, wearing sneakers. At least she could have borrowed a hat from someone. She was feeling a little embarrassed as she glanced at Keeley and her two friends, Denise and Melissa, all looking like they had just come back from shooting a country music video.

“Shall we hit the dance floor?” Melissa asked, throwing a glance at the crowd dancing in unison to a lively country song.

“I’m too sober for this,” Keeley said, sweeping her light brown hair behind her back. “And so is Maggie,” she added with a small laugh. “You look like you’re on a different planet.”

“I feel like I am,” the dance instructor admitted, and even though she tried to joke it off, she felt her anxiety clenching her stomach. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

However, as they were waiting for their drinks at the bar, she decided to stop this. Or at least, try to. Now that she was here at a dance night with some friends, why not have some fun? A confident woman would do that. And if I still feel like an alien an hour later, I can still go home, she thought to herself.

She clinked glasses with the girls and downed her shot, letting the alcohol wash away her anxiety. She still felt nervous when she followed Keeley and her friends to the dance floor, but she tried to see it as a challenge.

“Just do what everyone else does,” Keeley told her with an encouraging smile. “It’s pretty easy.”

“Salsa is a lot harder,” Denise said, adjusting her hat on her thick, black curls.

“And even I could learn this, without a sense of rhythm,” Melissa told her. “So, I’m sure you can, too.”

“Thank you,” Maggie nodded with a small smile, and she began to tap the beat with her foot, familiarizing with the music.

Then she started to follow the steps of the person standing in front of her. She couldn’t really tell whether they were a man or a woman, she wasn’t paying attention to that. What mattered to her was what their feet were doing in those brown, embroidered cowboy boots.

The first song was more like a stumble party, but in the second one she could follow the steps better, and when the third one came along, she even began to enjoy herself. This lasted until she missed a turn and she only noticed it when the brown boots were towards her. Maggie felt her cheeks turning red and she froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Just turn,” she heard a soft voice belonging to the owner of the boots: a young man with a light-colored cowboy hat, dark blonde hair, green eyes and a wide grin she found familiar.

“Thanks!” she said, then turned around quickly, trying to concentrate on the steps instead of trying to figure out where she had seen this guy before.

After that she caught him throwing a glance at her every once in a while and she wasn’t only looking at his boots anymore. Then, when another turn came, he was supposed to face forward, but he stayed where he was.

“You forgot to turn,” she stated.

“No, I didn’t,” he said, flashing a smile at her and he finished the song facing her, and surprisingly, she didn’t mind it.

When the song ended, he stepped to her and held out his hand.

“I’m Jake.”

“Maggie.”

“Let’s get you a drink.”

***

Chapter 5

Tagging: @lj13oct, @discojohndeacy, @luckyladycreator2, @moechen86, @katieshook02, @the-untamed-soul, @literary-lesbian, @a-littlebit-ofeverything, @jascasandra, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @angelinagabriel, @alanadetigy, @multiple-fandoms-girl

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #maggie miller #rooster x oc #top gun fanfiction #my fics #for a little bit of sunshine

9 notes · View notes

superlocktvd · 2 years ago

Text

Heartstopper

Hello Guys,

Its been over a month that Heartstopper released, and every time I think the fandom is slowing down, a new interview pops up, following which a new info about the cast pops up following which you get the greatest news that can be there for a show which is not 1 but a 2 season renewal.

All hail Alice Oseman for this series!!!! Netflix too for not (in a polite manner) fucking it up.

I have a lot of thoughts, which were put on hold due to the normal life because one needs to do all that to have simple pleasures in life. Over the month there hasn’t been a day I haven’t read about Heartstopper. When I first saw the teaser it promised itself to be a cute story in a very rom-com setting. The trailer came and my interest was piqued. Netflix dropped all its episodes on 22nd April and binging it was the only way to do it. It took me roughly 4-5hrs and in lack of better words I wasn’t the same.

The show is Perfect. I don’t think any words suits it. It’s perfect who already recognize themselves, it’s perfect for those you are discovering and learning about themselves, it’s perfect for those who need to check their action and behavior, it’s perfect those who don’t know how to approach this side.

Let’s start with basics shall we,

Storyline - Alice Oseman giving us what we didn’t know we ever needed. Although the graphic novel came back in 2016, which has a following itself, the show was decided to be adapted in 2019 and today in 2022 we finally have this beautiful piece in front of us.

Casting - A1, I don’t think you could have found anyone better for their roles if you searched with a candle anywhere. It’s like God was so impressed with this graphic novel that he made sure we have freaking re-incarnations of these characters. Kit, Joe, Yasmin, William, Sebastian, Corinna, Cormac, Izzy, Rhea and Tobie all were downright commendable. Hat’s off to you guys because no one could have done it better, especially when for so many of them it’s their first acting credit. Sebastian Croft and Cormac, you both easily bring out something in me that should not be named which goes to show how much I hate Ben and Harry, an unhealthy amount easily though. Please seek therapy.

Cinematography - Probably one of the best I have seen. Especially the Tara Darcy Kiss, because that scene is supremacy. It embodies everything good about being in love because that’s what it is all about isn’t it, to find someone you love even if it’s yourself.

Emotions - I have laughed, cried, sobbed, smiled, got angry and every other emotion that could possible existed has been felt during this watch. Also the other 4 times of re-watching. It’s always the same which is saying something. They were not overboard or fake, but natural and I think it resonated not just with me but everyone who watched it given the success it has risen to and continues to do so.

Music - By god, I have never heard a better playlist than Heartstopper, it was like every track was custom made for all the different situations that were happening. The songs embodied the situations perfectly because even without saying you can understand a lot just lyrics.

A lot of us regardless of age have been able to relate with different experiences that have been portrayed in the series. A lot of us have had nostalgia, something to reminisce and relive those ugly, harsh and even traumatic memories because the world and this society has not always been kind to those who don’t fit in their mold and idea of a person should be.

This series was treat to watch and highlighted so many things from the smallest things that matter to the biggest of conversations that needs to talked about. I’m thoroughly grateful for Netflix for renewing this show and I just hope the integrity, the soul and the charm this show had in season 1 is carried well into the other 2 seasons.

Can’t wait to see these people grow and succeed. The best is yet to come.

#heartstopper #alice oseman #charlie spring #nick nelson #charlie x nick #charlie spring x nick nelson #tara x darcy #joe locke #kit connor #sebastian croft #yasmin finney #william gao #tao x elle #oscar

18 notes · View notes

mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

198 notes · View notes

heartbreakprincewille · 3 years ago

Text

Explaining songs from my Wilmon playlist

(Inspired by @zee-has-commitment-issues and @missmeganlee 's posts)

So there are few songs in my Wilmon playlist which I love so much and they fit so well that they make me go crazy every time I listen to that playlist so yeah. Gonna ramble about more of them but this post will be mentioning 4 songs. Do tell me if you think these songs fit or not!

1) 3am by Halsey

This song is literally Wille high out of his mind at the football field. It encapsulates his loneliness and his desperation so well.

"Darling, I've just left the bar

And I've misplaced all my credit cards

My self-preservation and all of my reservations

Are sittin' and contemplating what to do with me, do with me."

And

"Think I took it way too far

My insecurities are hurtin' me

I'm the worst of my enemies

I really need a mirror that'll come along and tell me that I'm fine."

And this is probably my favorite line from the whole song:

"Know that my identity's always getting the best of me,

And I don't really know what to do with me. "

2) Fallin' All In You by Shawn Mendes

This is the morning after song for me because I always listen to it while imagining the morning after scene. It just perfectly captures the happiness and giddiness of that scene.

"Sunrise with you on my chest No blinds in the place where I live (okay this makes me laugh ngl) Daybreak, open your eyes 'Cause this was only ever meant to be for one night Still, we're changing our minds here Be yours, be my dear So close with you on my lips Touch noses, feeling your breath Push your heart and pull away, yeah Be my summer in a winter day, love I can't see one thing wrong Between the both of us Be mine, be mine, yeah Anytime, anytime."

This song is literally so sweet it hurts

"Every time I see you, baby, I get lost If I'm dreaming, baby, please don't wake me up Every night I'm with you, I fall more in love Now I'm laying by your side Everything feels right since you came along."

3) Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

I will die on this hill- THIS IS THEIR SONG, especially the S1 arc in general. The song is about falling in love when you are at the rock bottom in your life, "life-can't-be-any-worse-but-I'm-really-falling-for-you" situation. There's this intense love, but there's also this intense, lingering pain from all the other shit happening in your life and you are afraid that this love will slip away from your hands because of the other painful events happening to you so there's this temporary feeling around the whole relationship (Wilmon, anyone?)

"I'm drunk in the back of the car And I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (Oh) Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (Oh) And I scream, "For whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?"

4) Nervous, Shawn Mendes

The whole song may not apply to them but this song captures Wilhelm's nervousness while being around Simon very well. We love a playful "Nervous-around-your-crush" anthem for Wilmon!

"And all you did was look my way And my heart started to race And my hands started to shake, yeah."

"I get a little bit nervous around you Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you Get a little excited Baby, when I think about you, yeah."

#Spotify #this is me basically shoving shawn's discography down everyone's throats lmao #but the songs really really fit so sorry not sorry #young royals #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson

17 notes · View notes

lucy90712 · 3 years ago

Text

Karl jacobs- mr beast

wc- 2117

Warnings: none

~ Two weeks ago I randomly got a call from a man who invited me to a shoot for a video, believe me I was sceptical at first which the man seemed to understand but he provided me with all the information I could ever need and answered all of my questions so I believed him and agreed to go and now is the day of the shoot. To my knowledge there will be a few others there as well as a whole crew so if this is a bad situation at least I won't be alone.

My parents think I'm insane for going to this and they have made me promise to keep my phone on me at all times and to text them that I'm safe when I get there, it's nice that their worried but I honestly think I'll be fine. The friend that I've told seem to be thinking the exact opposite in fact they are convinced that I'm going to a mr beast shoot but I'm not too sure. They seem to think that because we live in North Carolina that this is the only possible explanation but I think that they would say that it was for mr beast so that the whole situation seemed less sketchy.

For the day of the shoot which happens to be today we were instructed to wear what we normally would but not to wear too much makeup because it doesn't look good on camera. I took this on board and wore my mom jeans with a black crop top just because it was plain and not too over the top, I don't want to stand out too much. I also barely put on any makeup I just covered the dark circles under my eyes and the few spots I had and I put on mascara so that I didn't look like I had no eyelashes.

The location I had to go to was only about 35 minutes drive from my house which was nice because I wasn't feeling a long drive today. I woke up early enough to have time to make myself breakfast and get coffee on the journey. At the local Starbucks drive through I got my usual order and talked to the girl at the window for a moment because she happens to be one of my friends sisters so we know one another.

"Isn't today the day if that mysterious video shoot your going to" she asked

"Yeah I have to be there in like 50 minutes" I said

"Well have fun meeting mr beast" she said handing me my drink

I rolled my eyes as I pulled away and started my drive. I listened to my Spotify playlist on the way just vibing to each song that played normally it plays at least one song that I'm not that into but today all of them were some of my favourite songs so I think today will turn out to be a good day.

As I arrived to the location I noticed that it was in this really random place with a bunch of big warehouses which I'm not gonna lie was a little sketchy but there seemed to be quite a few people about with cameras and other equipment so I calmed down again. I got out my car and went to the place that I was told to in the email which was relatively easy to find once I knew where the people were going and a guy led me into the middle of this warehouse with a few other people who were obviously taking part too.

Me and this one guy got talking while we waited and he seemed to know a little more than I did about what was happening so we talked about the video and this whole sort of experience. He was really cute too he had kind of long fluffy brown hair and lovely blue eyes that were and interesting shape but they really suited his face, I also noticed that he had his nails painted which made him seem even cooler much to cool for me to be talking to him. He was super nice to me and we had a good conversation until we had to start filming.

A few more people walked in with cameras following them as they talked but when they got closer I recognised the face and I couldn't believe it. My friends were right it was mr beast and his friends or at least a few of them. As they came in the guy I was talking to went over and joined them as they explained the video concept to the rest of us.

"Right for todays video we are going to get all these people to hide in pairs around these warehouses and whoever is found last wins $100,000 to share" mr beast explained

They sorted people into pairs but there was an odd number so I was left on my own.

"Slightly awkward but one person didn't turn up so Karl is going to step in and be y/n's partner for this" Chris explained

This Karl guy came over and he was the guy I talked to earlier, I got a bit embarrassed realising that I had absentmindedly been talking to this guy who's so well known as if it was nothing. The poor guy was probably so confused that I had no idea who he wasn't while at a mr best shoot hopefully I can redeem myself with this challenge.

We each took cameras to film as we found our hiding places which we had 10 minutes to go because the area we had was so big. Most people ran off to the furthest warehouses but me and Karl decided to stay a bit closer hoping that all the others would be found quickly. We went into this relatively small but tall looking warehouse which had a small upstairs bit to it where we looked for a good hiding place, there wasn't a whole load of options apart from this old wardrobe which looked like it could fit the both of us. We decided to keep looking seeing as we could always come back if we found no where else.

After checking another 2 warehouses that were almost empty we realised that our best option would be that wardrobe so we went back and squeezed ourselves in leaving one door open for now at least until we heard movement near by so that it wouldn't be quite as cramped. The both of us did fit in this wardrobe but on the inside it was smaller than it looked so we were pressed right against each other which would be awkward if you hadn't already embarrassed yourself in front of the person so I felt 10 times more awkward in this position.

We had to film ourselves which was quite hard with the darkness and the cramped space but Karl knew what he was doing so he took the camera off me and filmed the both of us explaining where we were showing just outside the wardrobe so that the viewers would know when the others were close to finding us.

Soon enough the timer went off indicating that our hiding time was up and now we really had to be careful not to make too much noise as we could've found any second I had kind of forgot about the fact that this was for a whole lot of money up until now because I was just so annoyed at myself for being such an idiot but now it felt really real and I was starting to feel quite competitive.

We waited what felt like an age before we heard any movement but when I heard the door open I almost jumped out my skin because it was so quiet up until that point. I gave Karl a look and the both of us forced ourselves further into the wardrobe and shut the door as quietly as we could making it completely pitch black.

It was a lot more squished in the wardrobe now as there was no space to move, there was no good way to stand because we had to had some part of our bodies touching or else we wouldn't fit. Karl whispered telling me to turn my phone touch on so that he could film for a second because he said that it wouldn't be seen from outside.

"We just heard the door open and there is movement downstairs so the door in now closed and its super dark without the light" Karl explained to the camera

"It's also super claustrophobic in here with the door shut" I added putting my head over his shoulder so that the camera could see me

He put the camera down and I turned off my touch and we just kind of listened and we heard the door close again or so we thought but it wasn't worth the risk so we left it a little longer before we felt safe to be a little louder but we didn't want to risk opening the door again so we stayed how we were.

It was actually a good time talking a little bit like we were before the filming started, Karl is a very sweet guy he really just wants to get to know me as a real person and not just someone helping him do his job. He seemed to really care about what I did with my life and who I am seeing as I know a bit about him and he knew that he was interested in learning about me.

Our nice conversation was soon interrupted when the door opened again and we heard voices getting closer to us. The sound of the metal stairs that lead to where we are could be heard which meant that they were close. There was a panicked feeling between the two of us and Karl pulled me closer to him just incase they opened one door they might not be able to see us.

"They could be in the wardrobe there" I heard a muffled voice say

Mine and Karl's breathing slowed down so that they couldn't hear any noise at all and if they did well they have great hearing. It was at this point that I realised Karl had his arm around my waist holding my back to his chest which was making me blush but it was dark so no one could see. The door opened on the other side and a camera was pointed in.

"There no one in this side do you really think they would both fit on the other side?" Someone asked

"I don't think so honestly but we really should check" another said

I knew it was over from that point and I was right the second door opened and cameras went straight into my face, Karl also let go of my waist at this point not wanting that to be on camera. Karl got out the wardrobe and offered his hand to help me out.

"Congratulations you guys have won" mr beast said

"It took us forever to find you so well done" Chris said

"Oh my this is amazing thank you" I said feeling quite overwhelmed

Obviously the prize for winning was $50,000 each which was absolutely amazing and just so life changing like there is so many things I could do with that amount of money but I have no idea what that will be yet.

"You have won $50,000 congra" mr beast started

"Wait I want y/n to have my share I don't need it" Karl interrupted

"Karl there is no need for you to do that I'm more than ok with $50,000" I said

"You are taking the money please it would make me happy" he said

I accepted the fact that Karl was never going to give in so now I'm $100,000 richer which is insane no one is going to believe me until this video comes out. My parents are going to think I've committed a crime of some form which isn't good but they will have to believe me eventually so it's fine.

The shoot wrapped up and I was heading to my car to go back home when Karl came running over and gave me his phone number saying he wanted to hang out sometime. What has my life become? I started the day thinking that I could be in danger and have ended it with $100,000 and the phone number of one of the people that works for a huge YouTube channel, it's almost like a dream.

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs #mr beast #dsmp #mcyt #karl

93 notes · View notes

thechangeling · 3 years ago

Text

But you like her better: Part 2

Sorry it's been a minute! I hope you like it.

Cw: Some brief ableism, mentions of internalized biphobia, and self injurious stimming.

2013

It was raining when 16 year old María Machado Sotomayor first met Kit Herondale.

Marí had always loved the sound of the rain. It was peaceful and rhythmic, creating a nice tingly feeling in her skull running straight down her spine. It also good for the plants. Which meant that Marí arrived (on time for once) at her favorite class in a pretty good mood.

Marine biology was their one of their three special interests, the other two being lacrosse and Base guitar. So Bio was usually pretty fun for them. However this time was different.

Her mood was instantly dampened when she walked into class and saw someone new sitting in her usually seat. A blond, short and white kid who looked far too pretty for his own good. A new kid most likely.

A new kid who didn't realize that Marí always sat by the window every single day. It was their spot. Still Marí was determined not to overreact. They marched over to the new kid and approached him with their best masking smile.

Remember eye contact. She told herself. Keep your tone light and breezy but not too lifeless. Smile. Appear friendly and non threatening. Try not to sweat. Try not to scream.

"Hi excuse me," Marí began in a sickly sweet tone. "That's actually my seat! Sorry!"

The boy instantly looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I didn't realize there was assigned seating." He had an American accent, California maybe?

Wonderful. A white American boy. Just what they needed.

Marí chewed their lip and fought the urge to rock or tap. "There isn't actually," they admitted. "I just usually sit there. So can you please move?"

Now the new kid looked a little offended. A cold look settled over his face. "Well why should I?" He bristled. "This seat isn't really yours. It's not like it has your name on it."

Marí rolled her eyes in frustration. "I tried that already but then I got in trouble."

He stared at them curiously for a moment. Marí took the opportunity to break eye contact finally and scuff their heel against the floor. They were wearing the new black suede chunky heels with the gem stones that Marí had gotten when they went thrifting with their friends.

"María!" The harsh voice of her teacher snapped her back into reality. Everyone had arrived and taken their seats while she was arguing with the American and now everyone was staring at her. "Could you please explain why you are not seated young lady?" She snapped in her extra pretentious sounding posh English accent.

The one that said, "I'm better than you."

Marí tried not to growl at being called a young lady. They weren't feeling particularly female today. Not that Marí was going to bother explaining that to some old British hag.

"He won't get out of my seat!" Marí protested. Instantly laughter broke out around the classroom. Cruel mocking laughter that made Marí feel like her skin was crawling.

"It's ok!" The new kid cried out, practically jumping out of Marí's seat. "I'll move! I'll go sit over here." He grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Marí smiled in spite of themself. His random act of kindness was surprising, but they were grateful. They took their seat near the window and sighed in relief.

Marí would always look back on that day with fondness no matter what. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it meant the world to her. After Bio class she had asked Kit to come eat with her and her friends. They had made their introductions and the rest was history.

They became close friends very quickly, bonding over movies and music. They sent each other playlists of their favorite songs and songs that reminded them of each other. Marí made Kit a queer playlist with songs by queer artists and told Kit that they were bisexual and a demigirl. They hadn't even told their friends that last part yet at that point.

Marí also told Kit that they liked to use she/they pronouns, but so far was only using them online. Kit asked Marí a lot of questions then confessed to Marí that he was also bisexual but he was still kinda getting used to it.

"I grew up in a shitty situation," Kit had told them. "I guess I still have a lot of shame."

Marí didn't hold it against him. She bought him queer literature and resources for queer history including "Bisexuality and Queer Theory" and her printed copy of the article published in the 90s called "The Bisexual Manifesto." She gave him advice on websites and people to follow online.

They also just talked. Talked about life and their experiences. Their feelings and their relationships with their sexualities. Bonding with another queer person was always special but spending time with Kit always made Marí feel so...light.

Despite how close they were getting, Marí didn't always want to touch him. They were touch averse in most cases unless they were very comfortable with someone. Sometimes it just depended on the day. On the days where Marí found they could not hug Kit they had invented their own way to show affection.

They would place a hand over their hearts and tap it, as if to say "I care about you" or "I love you." Sometimes Kit would say "tap my heart" as a substitute for actually doing it.

He introduced her to his close friend Janessa, the wayward vampire who was incredibly hot and kind of made Marí all nervous and tounge twisty at first. But as they got to know her, Marí realized that she was also incredibly kind, passionate and clearly cared at great deal about Kit. Janessa was a gamer who had named herself after a video game character. She drank cups of warm blood in novelty mugs with giant swirly sparkly straws and was pretty good at making people laugh.

Janessa, or Nessie as Kit had affectionately nicknamed her, was flirtatious and charismatic, but also brutal and deadly in a fight. She was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe Marì was a little bit into that.

However as much as Marí didn't want to admit it, they were also were starting to realize that they were way more into someone else. Someone with perfect golden curls that Marí wanted to curl their fingers into.

Eventually Kit came out to Marí as genderfluid and requested that she use alternating he/they pronouns for them. They both made the decision to collectively tell their friends their pronouns. Marí, Kit and Nessie sat around her gorgeous leather couch and talked for hours about gender, identity and transness. Kit pointed put that they may never be able to fully explain their gender to the other two, just like Kit might have a hard time fully understanding Janessa's relationship with gender, or Marí's because everyone was different.

"It's personal Nessie," he had said. "Everyone has their own unique perspective on gender and every trans person has their own complicated feelings about gender and what their own gender identity means to them, and those feelings might not completely match up with another trans person's. But that's ok. You don't have to understand the other person but you do have to respect them."

Janessa's understanding of gender came from being a trans women. It was about a strict binary with clear lines and rules. Rules that Kit was starting to make a habit of fingerpainting all over and Marí could tell that it was stressing her out.

And Marí had no idea where the hell they fit in these rules. They had stopped playing the game.

But those two loved each other more than anything, and Marí knew they could work anything out. And sure enough approximately seven hours and four margaritas later (only two for Marí,) they had come to an understanding.

2014

She kissed Kit for the first time a month into the new year.

They had been trying on clothes in Marí's room and Kit was wearing one of their old dresses that Marí thought they looked amazing in, but Kit wanted to give it away. It was dark navy blue and sparkly with spaghetti straps, coming to about mid thigh. There were cut outs on the sides, filled in with black sheer fabric, and it had a low v cut at the neckline which was also filled in with black sheer.

Kit had been infodumping about one of the Marvel movies again, Marí couldn't remember which one, and she had kept getting distracted by his tan smooth skin peaking through the sheer fabric and fullness of Kit's moving lips. He smiled excitedly and Marí had stepped forward and kissed him.

Their first thought was that Kit tasted like chocolate. Their second was that they should have done this months ago.

Kit had melted into the kiss, smiling slightly against her mouth and pulling her closer. They kissed her feverishly, sliding their tounge inside Marí's mouth and moaning when she deepened the kiss eagerly. They moved against each other with almost lazy, comfortable precision, kissing each other for what could have been hours or days or maybe only seconds.

Marí couldn't have said.

When Kit finally broke the kiss and pulled away from Marí, his eyes were practically gleaming with joy and love. And that was when they knew.

I love him.

2015

I love him.

Ty's words ran in her ears. Repeating over and over again, maddenly bouncing around inside of her skull until she was forced to utter out loud,

"I love him".

They whispered it under their breath but Marí could tell that both Alyssa and Ty had heard them. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

But of course. Of course he does. It was obvious. This whole time Marí had noticed there was something wrong with Ty. Just like there was something wrong with Kit. The way they stared after each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. The loving and worshipful glances mixed with the bitter glares.

Marí had already known that Kit was in love with Ty of course. But the way they had told the story made it seem like they were positive that Ty couldn't be in love with them.

But then again maybe that made sense. Given Kit's history and who he was. But then Marí couldn't help but think of Ty and how confused he must have been. God it was a giant mess.

Speaking of...

The room was still silent. Marí found that she couldn't read Ty's expression as he stared back at her flatly. But his body was shaking, his fingers fluttered at his sides. She wanted to soothe him.

They stepped forward carefully. "I'm not mad at you," Marí assured him. "I was hoping we could talk?"

Ty's left eye twitched. "We are talking," he pointed out. Alyssa snorted.

"Ty, they mean about the proverbial bomb you just dropped a few seconds ago," Alyssa said with a laugh. Marí smirked to themself slightly.

It wasn't really a bomb. More like a flare.

She really needed to talk to Ty. The only problem was Alyssa had an annoying tendency to never leave his side. It wasn't like she had a problem with the girl. Of course not. But her presence meant that Marí hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Ty one on one.

They cleared their throat. "Alyssa could you please give Ty and I some space to talk?" They asked. Marí hoped they didn't sound too rude. Alyssa looked to Ty and he nodded slightly, signaling that he was ok with her leaving.

That was so strange to Marí. Their relationship. The way Alyssa, a werewolf who hated shadowhunters even more then Marí did, essentially took orders from him and clearly trusted him more than anyone else. But perhaps she wasn't one to judge.

After all, she loved Kit.

Alyssa left the room with a pat on Ty's back and a quick, "call if you need me." Marí shifted their weight back and forth as they rocked slightly from side to side as they waited for Ty to speak.

He stared back at her silently, most likely doing the same. Marí blew out a loud breath and forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to say something or should I?" Ty asked expectantly. Marí bit their lip and shrugged.

"I'm still thinking of what I wanna say," she admitted.

Ty smiled at her softly. "So am I."

There we go. Cracks in the armour.

"I'm sorry," Ty whispered suddenly. "I never meant to-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Marí blurted out. Whoops they had interrupted him. "Oh shit sorry you were still talking!" They reached for their hair nervously and realized that they were wearing that Morticia wig for their costume.

Great. Marí moved on to chewing on her knuckles.

"It's ok," Ty reassured her. "I don't really know where I was going with that sentence. And you shouldn't do that." He pointed to her hand.

Marí scoffed, "yeah well you shouldn't dig your nails into your palms." He glared at them and they laughed.

"Not so fun playing a game of Mirror Image is it?" They teased. Ty didn't respond, just stared at Marí solemnly.

"You know I really admire you," he said, aiming his gaze close enough to hers to create the illusion of eye contact. "I always have. I never wanted to hurt or upset you."

Marí wished for a brief moment that they could touch him and then shrugged the impulse off. "I know love," they cooed. "Me too."

Without really understanding why, she pressed her hand to her chest directly above her heart and tapped, just like how she did with Kit. Ty studied Marí for a moment and then followed suite.

Marí in spite of themself, actually felt bad for him. They could clearly see the toll the last three years had taken on him, specifically the last few weeks. Maybe his family couldn't see it, and they definitely knew that Kit couldn't, but Marí could.

Marí of all people could see past the mask because they knew what masking looked like. It wasn't just about appearing normal, whatever that word meant. It was about hiding your feelings. Taking that heart you wore on your sleeve and locking it up tight. But everytime Marí looked at Ty, they could see it. And it was bleeding.

Ripped and bloody and broken, just like her own and yet they both still had the sheer audacity to keep breathing. Marí was proud of them both.

"You need to talk to him," Marí prompted. "You both need to be honest with each other."

Ty furrowed his brow. "Honest? About what? He doesn't feel the same way." He had gone back to flicking his fingers as he stared at her, looking puzzled.

Bloody hell between the two of them, Kit and Ty were giving Marí the mother of all headaches.

They took a deep breath. "Yes they do Ty," Marí tried not to sound exasperated. "Kit is in love with you, believe me. They told me."

It hurt Marí's heart to have to say it, but it was true and Ty deserved to know the truth. And they knew deep down that Kit wouldn't really be happy, he wouldn't be Kit until he had Ty. And Marí had to make their peace with that.

Ty looked understandably confused. He ran a frantic hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?" He asked. "Don't you love them?"

She fought the urge to cry as tears gathered in her eyes. She found herself digging her nails into her palms despite chastising Ty for doing it a few minutes ago.

"I'm telling you all of this because I love them" she cried desperately. "Because Kit cries out your name in his sleep Ty! Because everytime he sees you, he stares at you like you are the moon the sun and the stars! Because everytime you speak they hang onto absolutely every word, and when you laugh-" Marí cut herself off.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took deep long breaths. Ty said nothing. Marí opened their eyes to see Ty staring at them in dismay. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say to help.

Marí shook their head. "I know Kit loves me. And they probably always will. We were close friends even before we started dating." Marí groaned and shook out their entire body this time, jumping up and down a few times as well to get rid of the tension. If Ty thought this was weird he didn't comment on it.

Marí wiped her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her mascara. "But you Ty?" His eyes refocused on her again at the sound of his name. Marí chuckled humourlessly. "Fucking hell, he is in love with you. And right now he is thinking that you hate him and I know it's tearing him up inside."

Ty stared at Marí hopelessly, looking overwhelmed and exhausted. "So what do I do then? What am I supposed to say?"

Marí shrugged. "I can't help you with that I'm sorry. It has to come from you." Ty looked even more panicked.

They gave him what they hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't be scared Ty," they murmered. "It's Kit remember. They're not scary. You have nothing to worry about."

Ty didn't answer her. He had wrapped his arms around his body, squeezing tightly. "Marí do you remember those dead moon jellyfish we buried on the beach?" He asked.

She was a little confused as to why he was bringing this up now. "Yeah? Why?"

"That's what I feel like right now," Ty admitted. "Like I've washed up on the beach and now I'm just waiting for someone to come along and step on me."

Marí's heart sank. "Oh Ty," they breathed. "I promise that won't happen with Kit. I can't make any promises for anyone else, but I do know that Kit has absolutely no intention of hurting you again love."

Ty looked pensive. Marí could only hope that Ty would make the decision to trust them.

With a sudden jolt Marí remembered the party.

"Hey we still have the Halloween party to go to," she said, shaking Ty out of his stupor. "Do you still wanna go?"

To their surprise, Ty nodded. "Sure. I think Alyssa might kill me if I back out now."

Marí snorted. Alyssa Reyes could be pretty terrifying at times.

With surprise Marí found that their spirts were lighter having cleared the air with Ty and with the prospect of a party being renewed.

She smiled. "All right then let's head out!" Marí smoothed down the long black wig over her shoulders and quickly smoothed out the long skirt of her black slinky dress before turning and exiting the training room.

She knew that she would have to talk to Kit at some point and that conversation would be brutal. But at least they could have one last night together.

It's better this way. Marí told themself as they walked back towards the main living room where everyone was gathered. At least now Kit can be happy.

It's for the best.

It has to be.

So I'm actually planning on writing a part 3 from Kit's pov because the drama isn't over yet! 😏

Tag list: lmk if you wanna be added/removed.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @the-blackdale @adoravel-fenomeno @the-wckd-powers

#tsc #twp #kit x ty #marí the werewolf #the wicked powers #maría machado sotomayor #we stan autistic bonding #we stan queer bonding

57 notes · View notes