#dimple x harsh

[honeystarfishtzu]

taylor swift and william bowery wrote sweet nothing for dimple and harsh

[skzdarlings]

i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

-

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty.   You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred.  Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way. 

You were not expecting Felix.  Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair.  He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand. 

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction.  You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business.  You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt.  The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful. 

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society.  Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding.  Of course you knew his name.  But you did not know his face.  You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold. 

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies. 

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite.  The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night.  You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns. 

Would that be an impertinent question?  It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise.  Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes. 

Then the door opens and your new husband enters.  All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night.  A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you.  It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic.  But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine.  When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch. 

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed.  He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator. 

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it.  Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you.  It is almost overwhelming.  You have been invisible your whole life.  No one ever looked at you.  No one ever wanted you.  Your father scared off anyone who tried. 

Felix is not just anyone.  Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone. 

“No,” you answer.

“Really?”  He lifts a curious eyebrow. 

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold.  Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner.  He puts his coat there too. 

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks.  It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation.  He knows what you must think of him.  The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy.  He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with.  That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute. 

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life.  An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother.  Hurt, neglected, ignored. 

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside.  Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened.  You were so afraid you would never escape them.  Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder.  Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile.  He looked at you and not your family. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.  “Your husband is asking for you.  Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority.  Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm.  He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster.  Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception.  It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge. 

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room.  Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom. 

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression.  His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze.  Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm. 

“Come here,” he said.  “Sit with me a bit.  Please.” That deep voice.  You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier.  This invitation was his first real address. 

You nodded.  Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels.  Your feet hurt.  Sitting would be a relief if nothing else. 

There was an empty seat behind Felix.  It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten. 

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist.  Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him.  He caught you and held you.  Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee.  He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle. 

It was more than a power play.  It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist. 

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.     

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone.  “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear. 

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly.  A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered.  “Very expensive.  Very fine.  Too fine for me.  My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them.  Sit straight.  Not over-eat.  You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing.  Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said.  “She’s right.  They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said.  He looked at you, held your gaze in his own.  You found yourself counting his freckles.  “Do you like it?” he asked. 

Maybe it was his display of power.  Maybe it was his arm around you.  Maybe it was the freckles.  He looked so sweet, so sincere.  You could not bring yourself to lie.  Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale. 

“No.”  You felt tears in your eyes.  “I know it’s expensive.  I know it’s beautiful.  But I’ve never hated anything more.” 

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked.  A couple pearls popped right off and scattered.  The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand. 

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him. 

You chanced a look at your family.  They were scandalized.  Horrified.  And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love.  His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now.  You strive to articulate all these feelings.  You are not used to speaking and having someone listen. 

“I can’t explain it,” you say.  “Maybe it’s foolish.  But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here.  With you.  Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room. 

“That’s funny,” he says.  “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you.  Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together.  His knee touches yours, his arm your arm.  He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again. 

“I need to be honest with you,” he says.  “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.  A year ago.  At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise.  All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social.  You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time.  His hair was dark then, his face in a mask.  He did not speak.  His distinctive voice would have given him away. 

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night.  You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says.  “I watched you with the staff.  You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?”  He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room.  “I came from nothing,” he says.  “My family… we fought to get where we are now.  But I remember, you know.  What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you.  Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder.  Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more.  You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art.  His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw. 

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently.  “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness.  I would protect it.  Like your family wasn’t.”  His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face.  “They would have ruined you.” 

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm.  You shiver.   He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand.  A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers. 

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips.  He is still looking at your joined hands. 

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says.  “I’d give anything to have my innocence back.  But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious.  Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.  

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says.  He looks almost… afraid.  An expression you never expected to see on this man.   “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says.  “It was all me.  I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice.  He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you.  But you were already mine.  So I left him no choice but to see things my way.” 

“Oh,” you say, surprised beyond all words. 

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says.  “But I understand if your feeling are complicated.  Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him.  It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable.  His face is shadowed in shame. 

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say.  He is still holding your hand in both of his.  You lay your other hand there, a complete joining. 

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say.  “I’m my husband’s wife.  My loyalty is to you.  My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath.  His smile returns.  “Your place.  I’d say you need someone to put you in your place.  Your rightful place.” 

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet.  He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room.  You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side. 

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch.  You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it.   Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life.  When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck.  No more chokers.  No more pearls. 

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed.  You are not used to such lovely gifts.  Even the pearls were a punishment.  “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says. 

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you.  His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering.  The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin.  “It was made for you,” he says.  “Like you were made for me.” 

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it.  It feels like you are unravelling with it.  The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin. 

He steps off the bed.  He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft.  He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly. 

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you.  You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside.  He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better. 

“This is how it works,” he says.  He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you.  You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze.  “You are my wife.  And when we are out there, I am your servant.”  He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well.  He massages you gently.  “I will never deny you anything,” he says.  “You can ask me for anything. All right?  I will give you the whole world.  I will give you my whole heart.  In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant.  Only I can touch you.  Only I will have you.  All of you.  In every way.  Always, starting from today.  Starting from right now.”    

“Yes.  Yes.  But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this.  Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation.  “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You don’t,” he says.  He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh.  “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder.  He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up. 

You almost forget to breathe.  He kisses higher on your thigh.  Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.” 

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift.   With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way.  You hold them while he kisses up your thigh.  He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive. 

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks.  He already looks flushed.  Desperate.      

“No,” you answer.  You swallow hard.  “Never.”  You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire.  You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back.  He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking. 

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth.  He takes you up and over a blissful crest.  It leaves you a drenched and panting mess. 

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth.  He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you. 

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it.  “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.   

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you.  You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony.  It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him. 

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again.   When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively.  He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze.  His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing.  You wonder if you look as ravished.  Maybe more.  It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head. 

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower.  “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread.  Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down.  The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking. 

Even his chuckle is a deep sound.  He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast.  Your whole body twitches again. 

“Mm,” he says.  “You feel that?  You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off.  It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you.   Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature.  Again, you like it. 

He is just as impatient with his own clothes.  He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open.  Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off.  His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor.  He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it. 

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too.  Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness. 

“Don’t be shy,” he says.  “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper.  “Yeah, my baby.  So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him.   “God.  Perfect.” 

“Aren’t we g-gonna—”  Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again. 

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly. 

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.  “We are.  Be patient.  You’re gonna enjoy this.  Gonna remember this night forever.”  He leans down so his body is over yours.  He kisses you, presses you into the pillows.  When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips.   “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says.  “And you’re gonna want it.  All of it and more.” 

He has you begging for more already.  When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs.  It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him.   There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure. 

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped.  He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic.  Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip. 

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand.  He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers.  He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours.  “That no one else has felt you before,” he says.  “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say.  “Always.  My husband.” 

“Mm.”  He drops his forehead to yours.  “My wife.” 

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name.  He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name. 

Then he kisses you.  Then he lays you down.  He wraps you in his arms and squeezes. 

“Sleep for now,” he says.  “It’s been a long day.  And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin. 

“Yes,” he says with a smile.  He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip.  “I do.”      

[seeingivy]

casual

suguru geto x f!reader

**loosely based on casual by my beloved chappell roan

—

in the three months that you spend with suguru geto, he leaves a sour taste in your mouth and it’s not only because he tastes like black coffee. and in the two months that follow, before your deeply unfortunate circumstantial reunion, the last five words that you uttered to him, the sentiment behind them, only seems to grow. 

you can go to hell. 

and it’s all you can think when he shows up to the emergency room – a pinkish sunburn across his nose, his hair messily tied back – and eyes dripping in a concern that fills you with a rage. and it’s a deep sigh that he gives you, before reaching for your hand. 

“what happened to you, peach?” 

--

the general education class that you choose to satisfy your values and ethics inquiry is the sociology of religion. counting all the stakes – a stellar review on rate my professors, a night class at the start of the week, and minimal homework – it makes for the most ideal choice. 

“so what’s your major?” 

the downside? the midterm and final project are group assignments. and on any other occasion, you would have appreciated it – getting to split the work, taking some of the load off and sharing the work with someone, except for the fact that you didn’t know anyone in the class – and for the most part, you were expecting some half-brained idiot that would make you do all the work. 

you suppose it’s at least fair that he’s not horrible to look at. in the dimmed lights of your apartment, there’s something almost off putting about your partner, suguru geto. you count seven piercings across his ears – dangling silver pieces almost shining in the glint of the light – and the smallest rim of purple around his eyes. harsh cheekbones, a hard jaw, and wrinkles by his eyes. 

“educational studies. what’s yours?” you state. 

“computer science.” 

you hum in response, filling the two glasses with water and snatching one of the peaches from its container before taking your seat across from him, noting that he has a dimple on the left side when he smiles in response to your gesture. 

“did you want some?” you ask, holding the peach in between the two of you. 

he shakes his head, slumping against the counter in what seems an almost unnatural pose – his long limbs spreading into the space underneath your chair. you wonder if he always had an unusual way of taking up space. 

and it seems that as time goes on, he gets more and more unusual. quietly working through the portions that you split up, except for a few deep breaths here and there, though he would stop once in a while and would almost ask for approval of what he had written, waiting for some confirmation from you that it was okay with you. 

“you’re comparing adam and eve to…orpheus? i’m not really familiar with that.” you state. 

suguru nods, before turning towards you to explain. his eyes waver in the slightest as he turns over to you, his gaze flitting down to your lips, before looking back up at you. 

“you don’t have to be polite. you really can have some if you want, it’s really sweet.” you state. 

suguru smiles. 

“maybe later.” 

you shrug. 

“so orpheus…” 

“it’s a really old greek myth. orpheus and eurydice. to kind boil it down, eurydice is in the underworld with hades. and orpheus is trying to convince hades to let her return to the mortal world, with him.” 

he scoots his chair a little bit closer to you and you’re able to note one thing – that there’s a resonance in his voice, that it hums in his chest when he talks. 

“hades tells him that he’ll let him take eurydice with him, but on one condition. she has to walk behind him.” 

“that’s not that hard.” 

suguru grins. 

“isn’t it?” he asks. 

you pause. 

“you’re being told by this big, all powerful god, that she’s walking behind you. but you can’t look. you wouldn’t even consider the fact that you were being fooled? that maybe she had decided not to follow?” 

“i mean, i guess. i don’t think it would really cross my mind, i…i think i’d just follow out all the way til the end because i’d kind of have faith if that’s what i was promised. and that she’d want to come with me too.”  

suguru pauses, like he’s almost taking in what you’ve said – like it’s the first time he’s heard it – and responds rather slowly. 

“you’re rather trusting, aren’t you?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“is that such a bad thing? what do you think about it?” 

suguru shrugs. 

“it was a worthless pursuit in the first place. there was no way that he wouldn’t have turned around and looked back.” 

“what do you mean?” 

“it’s simple. he loves her. if he hears something that deceives him – like the sound of her tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back. if he thinks that she isn’t there, he won’t be able to get over it and he’ll turn around.”  

you pause, mulling the thought over. and you suppose it’s true – that if you really did love something, it would be almost impossible not to check for the promise of their presence. 

“i guess. so what? she goes back to the underworld?” 

“yeah. it’s one of the most tragic love stories.” 

“i guess it’s kind of romantic. that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.” 

and in the split second that the two of you stare at each other, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours, with the strong taste of coffee lingering on his lips. 

you’ve kissed three people before in your life – the boy you sat next to in the seventh grade, your date to the prom, and now suguru geto. 

the first was overwhelming. a quick locking of the lips, that at the time, made you nearly erupt into a puddle of butterflies. the second was lackluster. waxy from too much chapstick, abrupt from the fact that he was quick to shove his tongue in your mouth. 

and the third was indescribable. only because you could feel it – something lingering under his demeanor that you couldn’t exactly place. there wasn’t a word for the feeling it gave you – though there was one that was close enough. 

curiosity. about what that feeling is, about who suguru geto was, and why he felt so inclined to kiss you upon your third meeting. 

you wanted more of it. 

“you’re right, you know?” he murmurs, breath warm against your lips. 

“about being trusting?” 

he laughs. 

“no. about the peach. it really is sweet.” 

he leans back, eyes fixed on the reading in front of the two of you again, as you reach up to touch your lips, the sticky sweetness of the fruit gone from your skin. 

--

suguru comes around often after the fact. always here and there, an almost abrupt and concise text testing the waters. 

[suguru]: is your roommate home? 

[you]: nope. she’s at the district. 

[suguru]: can i keep you company?

[you]: okay! 

and he always arrives promptly twenty minutes after the fact, to the point where you wondered if he lingered around just to get there as fast as he could. and never empty handed – with dinner, dessert, or a flower that he plucked out of the cement in his hands. 

that was the thing that confused you about him. 

after the very first time you kissed, he had made one thing very clear. 

no attachments. you’re not together. 

but yet, he’d show up sometimes and do nothing but kiss your forehead and sleep in your bed next to you. or make you do something entirely mundane – like watch toy story three with a sheet of cookies in your oven – or watch you study. 

and in the two weeks you had known him, you knew better than to question. your curiosity never stopped you, but you found that you were always left with more questions than the vague answers that he gave you.  

“hey peach?” 

“yeah?” 

“your mom is calling.” 

you widen your eyes, immediately snatching the phone from him, and giving him a weary smile. and you side shuffle into the walkway between the laundry and your bedroom, pressing the phone to your ear and murmuring under your breath. 

“hi mom.” 

“hi doll. how are classes?” 

you pick at the loose thread of your sweater, nearly breaking the seams of the sleeve, noting suguru’s curious eyes – that he’s very poignantly trying to hide – from the kitchen. 

“they’re good, ma. what’s up?” 

“right. i’m so sorry to do this to you, my sweet, but i won’t be home when you get back.” 

“what?” 

“we’re going on a trip to see sheila in new york. and well, her vacation is only during those dates and we want to spend as much time with her as we can.” 

you sigh, the frustration tempering in yoru chest. 

“i already paid for the tickets. i saved up for a month trying to buy a flight back.” 

“darling, i know. i’m really sorry, but you know how it is. she just gets so stressed out that we just wanted to go out there and make her holiday nice.” 

“and what about my holiday? you don’t want me to have a nice christmas with my family?” 

you can feel it burning in your cheeks – that embarrassing feeling that’s been simmering in your chest since you were kid. a mix of an insurmountable amount of envy and dejection, from trying to vie for attention from the second that you realized you never had it. 

“don’t try to make me feel guilty.” she scolds 

“i’m not trying to make you feel guilty! i just wished you would have thought about me too.” 

you hear an irritated sigh on the end of the line, which is your first sign that you had made a mistake. because if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was push your mom’s buttons. 

you wonder if it’s because she sees herself in you – and that utter hatred that she has for herself was now placed on you instead. 

“do you always have to be so curt with me?” 

“i’m not being curt, i just…” 

“maybe when i die, you’ll think back and wished that you had appreciated me more. been more understanding that i’m not just your mother, i am someone’s friend too. that i have my own life. and that at the very least, my friends like to call me here and there. acknowledge me while you do god knows what wherever you are.” 

“okay, well, i –” 

“enjoy your christmas. we’ll see you in the spring.” she states. 

there’s a static on the other end of the line and you drop your phone, staring at the dark screen in your hands for the few seconds that follow. and you must have been standing there for too long, because a few minutes later quiet footsteps accompany you in the dimly lit hallway, suguru’s head obscuring the light from the bulb. 

“hi peach.” 

“did you hear all of that?” 

“no.” he responds. 

you look up at him and glare. and he reaches forward, hands soft on your cheek wiping away the wetness that you hadn’t noticed. you’re not sure when you started crying. 

he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“you’re a liar. if you’re one thing, it’s nosy.” you respond. 

he smiles. 

“maybe when it comes to you. what happened, pretty girl?” 

you shake your head, his grabby hands coming around your waist as he presses you closer to his chest. you can hear his heart thumping against your ear, the metal of his necklace cold on your cheek, as you heave a sigh. 

“nothing.” 

“oh, come on, peach.” 

you look up at him, expectant and full brown eyes waiting for an answer, as you give in. 

“i just thought i would be going home next week for break. but i think i’m just going to stay here.” 

“because your parents are going to…” 

“see their friends in new york.” 

suguru frowns. you can’t tell if it’s pity in his eyes. 

“it’s not a big deal. i just was expecting to go home, that’s all. and it’s not that big of a deal that i’m going to stay here, the weather is nice and it’s probably frigid cold there.” 

suguru pauses. 

“you’re going to be here alone?” 

“yeah. my roommate is from the east coast.” 

“you should come home with me, for break.” 

you look up at him, eyes wide. 

“what?” 

“s’not that far from here, i usually just make the drive. there’s a nice coffee shop on the way that i always stop at for some energy. and my mom is really nice.” 

you shake your head, almost too violently. 

“i can’t just go home with you. i wouldn’t want to impose.” 

suguru pulls back, his fingers fast on the screen, as he murmurs under his breath, his voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“you’re not an imposition to me, peach. i can’t leave my baby here alone.” 

“sure. but to your parents, and…and staying rent free in your house.” 

suguru grins, handing over the phone to you, as you read the texts on the screen. 

[suguru]: can my friend come home with me for break? her name is y/n. 

[mom]: YES!!!!! 

[mom]: A GIRL! 

[suguru]: not like that

[suguru]: but she’s sweet 

[mom]: I’M GETTING EVERYTHING READY 

you look down at the phone, noting the sweet heart emoji that he has near her contact name, the contact photo a picture of the two of them when he was considerably younger, hugging cheek to cheek. 

“and i stay rent free in your apartment all the time.” 

“suguru, this is…weird. i can’t just come home with you, that’s…that’s too much.” 

he shakes his head. 

“it’s casual. we’re just friends, you’re just coming home with me for break so you won’t be here alone.” 

right. you’d almost be inclined to believe him – if it wasn’t for the fact that the time you spent around him, the more curious you got. 

the more that feeling festered in you, wanting to know anything and everything about him, wanting to crawl deep into his skin and memorize everything and make sense of why he was the way he was. 

“you promise?” 

“for sure.” 

--

“you’re a loser.” 

mei mei is never one to mince her words. and you’re grateful for it – because it’s something that you need when you return from your two weeks stay in long beach with suguru over the break. 

because despite the words that he told you, the ones that you didn’t really believe anyway, you come back in a worse state than you expected. 

you think you love him. 

because in the days of uninterrupted time that you spend together, you let your mind wander too far. because in the quiet moments that the two of you had – knee deep in the passenger seat outside the stupid coffee shop you stopped at, giggling in the bathroom when you went to dinner, and tangled in the bed sheets with him every night – you let yourself taste too much. 

let your mind run a little too wild. thinking about meeting his friends at the pier he showed you, of living together in an apartment in the following year. 

and the two of you teeter a dangerous line. putting each other as emergency contacts, swapping your wardrobe in between your flats, and showering together every morning – his soft hands massaging the shampoo into the roots of your hair.  

“don’t be mean.” you state. 

“i’m not being mean, i’m just saying that…” 

mei mei sighs, cheeks in her hand, with an almost irritating look in her eyes – wholeheartedly judgemental. she just didn’t get it. 

“look, he’s friends with todo. that guy i know from the finance club? and i asked around about him, apparently he loves to brag about how he gets girls off all the time. now either he’s talking about you – clearly not the way you talk about him – or he’s talking to someone else.” 

you sigh. because you can’t even put it past him. because in the months you had known him, he was impossible to understand. a futile effort to read. impossible to touch. 

“look, i’ll just ask him later.” 

and when he comes around your apartment, well after mei mei has left, he brings a slice of peach cobbler that his coworker insisted that he take home with him. 

“peach cobbler for my peach!” 

you wince. 

“that was corny. even for you.” 

“i saw an opportunity and i took it.” suguru responds, shrugging as he loops his arms around your waist, chin resting against the top of your head as he eyes the pot of boiling ramen on your stove. 

and you bite the bullet as fast as you can. 

“do you see other girls?” you ask. 

“huh?” 

you swallow hard, dry patch in your throat, as you feel the sweat tickling the top of your forehead. it’s from the heat of the stove. 

“do you see other girls? or guys?”

“no. do you?” 

you shake your head. and you’re unsure how to word the next question – because there was something humiliating, too bare about having to admit that you want more to him – when things were so sweet as they were. 

perhaps you should have known better. coffee was always bitter at the end. 

“why do you ask?”

you shrug. 

“dunno. was just thinking about us. and how we spent break together and all that.” 

suguru presses a kiss to your hairline. 

“yeah? did you have fun?” 

you hum in response. 

“yeah. i really liked the city. and your mom and your sister. it was really sweet of you to take me.” 

you pause, wincing as you decide to be as blunt as possible. 

“and i like you.” 

he laughs. 

“well, i like you too.” 

“no, no, i like you. well, i more than like you, but i…i can’t say those words.” 

there’s a silence. and his arms feel like loose limp noodles around you. and you realize now, that you made the wrong choice. you turn around, only to find hollow brown eyes staring at you, the makings of a frown on his face. 

“suguru?” 

he winces. 

“i can’t.” he whispers. 

“why not?” 

and you’re not sure what it is, but it throws him into a panic. with his facial features scrunched up, eyes hollow, and nervous hands running through his hair. 

“i just can’t.” 

you cross your hands over your chest, the bitter contempt of rejection blooming in your chest, as you look down, picking at the scab on the inside of your palms as you ask again. 

“i said i didn’t want any attachments.” he adds. 

“i know. but can you blame me for being confused? you took me home to see your family.” 

“as a friend.” 

“you didn’t act like my friend while we were there.” 

suguru groans. 

“and that’s my fault, i know that but –” 

that one stings. admitting that he regrets it. 

“okay, well. that’s alright. maybe you should leave now, then.” you state. 

“wait peach, no. i don’t want to leave, i just..” 

you scoff. 

“you don’t want to leave?” 

“no?” 

it comes out meek, almost timid when he utters it. a question. like he can’t even admit it fully – that he wants to stay. and it fills you with anger, searing red hot anger on the heels of being cast aside so nonchalantly, that it comes to a head then and there. 

“do you really think so little of me?” 

“what? 

“i’m not good enough to be your girlfriend. but whatever else you want, that’s fine. i…i thought you thought of me better than some girl you just fuck around with.” 

suguru sighs. 

“you’re not some girl i just fuck around with.” 

“am i not, though?” 

suguru shuts his eyes, the look on his face is so pained – so miserable – that it irritates you. 

“you’ve made it abundantly clear. that you like me a decent amount, but not enough to care about whether or not you’ll lose me.” 

you bite down so hard on your lip that the taste of metallic blood fills your mouth, coupled with warm tears in your eyes. 

“and for that, you can go to hell.” 

--

“what happened to you, peach?” 

you scoff, curling your nose at the old nickname, as he yanks the closest stool – his legs still too long to even be comfortable on the thing as he leans forward, noting the dried blood on your forehead. 

“a car accident. you can leave now.” 

suguru frowns, almost resembling a kicked dog, as he shakes his head. there’s something softer about his expressions now – something you’re sure is a byproduct of the time you spent apart or the fact that you have a broken rib – and you choose to ignore it for the time being. 

“i can’t just leave.” he whispers. 

“and why not?” 

suguru shakes his head. 

“you have a broken rib. and a deep cut on your forehead. forgive me if i’m concerned about you.” 

“i can’t. knowing you, you’ll casually linger around here for a few days, and when you figure it’s appropriate to leave, you’ll be gone with the wind.” 

the two of you sit there in silence, the harshness of the words hanging in the air between the two of you. 

and yet again, suguru geto leaves you with a never ending pit of curiosity. about what he was doing here, to ask how he is – to make it a note to him that his cheeks look fuller, that his eyes aren’t rimmed red anymore, and that he looks good. 

that you like the new hairstyle. that it killed you when he wasn’t around anymore. that you still want him to go to hell. 

suguru twists the silver ring on his pointer finger a few times – a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth – before you break the silence, your curiosity getting the best of you another time. 

“why are you here?” 

“they called me. i’m your emergency contact still.” 

“no, i gathered that. why are you here?” 

suguru pauses, swallowing hard before responding. 

“if orpheus hears something that deceives him – like the sound of eurydice tripping over a rock – he doesn’t think. he looks back.” suguru states. 

you scoff. vague again. 

“right.” 

“no, really. i got the call. and i didn’t think and just showed up. i just…just had to see you.” suguru states. 

he pauses. 

“it’s kind of romantic, don’t you think? that he loved her so much that he had to look back, like it was almost an instinct.”

you turn to glare at him, at the audacity of him repeating your own stupid words back to you. 

“is it? because his carelessness left her in hell with hades.” 

suguru scoffs. 

“i never did tell you the end of the story, did i?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“orpheus becomes so distraught that he uses his lyre to charm death – just so that he can return to the underworld to be with her. and people debate how it happens, him being ripped apart by irate women or getting killed by the menades, but it does happen. he dies and goes to the underworld. and in some versions, people think that he reunites with her in the underworld. and she forgives him.” 

“and why would she do that?” you ask. 

“because he tried his best to do right by her. he was asked to do one thing – to stay away. and that’s what he did, because…because i know you’re right. because you do deserve better, i do think the world of you and think you deserve to be with someone who wants to be with you, the way that you want.” 

suguru pauses. 

“it’s not my fault that i can’t help but look back. i can’t do anything about the fact that i love you.” 

you swallow hard, an embarrassing amount of regret – mixed in with that deep longing that he left in your chest – searing through you. 

“in the casual way, right?” you respond, sarcastically. 

he groans. 

“it’s not casual at all. it wasn’t casual when i leaned forward to taste the sweetness of the peach on your lips – especially when i fucking hate peaches. and it wasn’t casual when i took you home with me, it was…i just couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone. and it’s not fucking casual that i drove three hours when i was supposed to be home this weekend just because i the thought of you sitting in this room alone, in pain, was driving me crazy.” 

you wince, turning to look at him. and it seems that in the mere acknowledgement of his presence by locking his eyes, it seems to fill him with something – something that puts the whisper of a smile on his face. 

“what?” 

“i turned around for you. i didn’t know i would, but now that i have, i…i realize that i probably always would have.” 

“okay?” you whisper. 

“are you going to forgive me for it? not doing it earlier, for…for not getting it right the first time?” he asks. 

you pause, mulling the thought over. and the silence, he takes it as an invitation to plead his case. 

“i’ll beg. i’ll get on my hands and knees if that’ll do something to make it better.” 

you turn to look at him. 

“you…you’re special. i haven’t forgotten about you and…and i know we had something. just let me fix it? i’ll get you a hundred gifts, i’ll tell you a hundred times and i’ll - oh!’ 

he reaches into his bag, shoving his arms into the depths of the pockets, before yanking out a little napkin and reaching forward, opening your hand and placing it in your palm. 

“a tissue?”

“open it.” 

and you oblige, unfolding the tissue to see four little gummy peach rings in the napkin, before turning back to him. 

“peach rings?” 

“for my peach! i eat them all the time now, even though i fucking hate peaches. i only had a few left so i grabbed what i had left when i ran out. and i ate some on the way on accident because i was nervous, worried about you and all..” 

you look down, the sugary crystals on the candy almost sparking in the light, as you look back at him. and he's wholeheartedly different - not the cool, cold guy you left behind, but a weird mess of awkwardness and jitters, and maybe even the tiniest hint of desperation.

he seems wholeheartedly more touchable this way.

“you make no sense.” you state.

suguru frowns. 

“i know. but i’m trying.” he responds. 

and you sigh, wiping your hands at your side, before eating one of the candies. bitter at first, but sweet at the end. 

“suppose that’s my problem then. i’ll have to figure you out.” you respond. 

suguru’s face splits into a smile, his motions so eager as he leans over the railing of the bed, the angle entirely off as he leans forward to kiss you. and it’s entirely different from every other time you’ve kissed him – full and whole, a warm and tender promise behind it. 

“you’re wrong, you know?” you whisper. 

“about what?” he murmurs. 

“the peaches. they taste good.” 

he laughs. 

“is that right?” he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, as he wavers his eyes up again, to the cut on your forehead. 

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bandages, before pulling back, lips lingering over yours. 

“i think i need one more to decide.”

--

an: idk.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea  @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

[moonstruckme]

Hi I love your fics so much first of all!!! You’re literally carrying my tumblr reading rn!! Also I was wondering if you would be comfortable with writing a smut request? I love what you’ve written with the poly!marauders boys and I’d love to see more smut with their dynamic. Totally fine if you’re not comfortable but I bet it would be amazing!!

Hi gorgeous thanks for being so so patient with me, I intended to come up with something for this sooner but writing sex with 4 people is one of my biggest challenges with this account haha. Hope it's okay and you like it!

cw: smut mdni

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 602 words

“Hey,” Sirius laughs, hands smoothing along the outsides of your thighs. “Take it easy, sweetness.” 

“Sorry.” You try to steady your breathing and, ideally, your shaking along with it. Sirius begins kissing his way up your leg, spit cooling from just under your knee upwards. You yelp when he gives the inside of your thigh a love bite. 

“Fuck,” Remus hisses when your grip tightens on his cock. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, head tipping back against the pillows. 

Sirius slips a finger inside your underwear, and you squirm, a humiliatingly pleady sound rising in your throat. 

“Aw, baby,” he croons. “You’re feeling pretty ready for us, huh?”

You’re not going to dignify that with a response. 

“Anything to report?” James asks jokingly. Remus groans as he pulls out of him before thrusting back in. 

Sirius lets the material of your underwear snap back into place, covering your mound with his palm and rubbing consolingly. “Soaked,” he says simply. “But I think she could still use a bit of warming up. Don’t you, gorgeous?” 

“No,” you say, half desperate as he presses a chaste kiss to the cloth covering your cunt. It’s an effort to keep your hand moving on Remus’ cock. “No, I think I’m all warmed up.” 

“I don’t think so,” Sirius tuts sympathetically, mouthing his way over to your hip. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.” 

It’s all you can do to keep from crying as he turns you over slowly, kissing the backs of your thighs and lingering at the crease under your ass. They’ve been playing this game with you on and off all day, starting with a particularly salacious kiss from Remus in the kitchen this morning and culminating now, after you’ve attempted to proposition your boyfriends and they’ve rewarded you with foreplay so prolonged it borders on torture while they get each other off. 

Sirius’ touches have you panting and gasping, entirely unlike the soft, beggy sounds James likes to work out of you (and, in fairness, you out of him as well). His grip is harsh and kisses searing, ever closer to your cunt but stopping just short of it. Before long he has to pin you down by your thighs, and you can feel his devilish smile against your skin as he kisses the dimple in your back, ignoring the way you squirm underneath him. 

Remus makes a soft sound when your grip on him loosens. He reaches for your hand, rubbing your wrist sympathetically. 

“It’s okay, dovey,” he says, amusement lilting in his tone. “You don’t have to.” 

You let your hand fall to the bed. It bunches in the duvet. “Sorry.” Your voice comes out breathless and teary, bordering on a whine. 

He coos, his own voice somewhat strained as he leans over to kiss you sweetly. “S’alright. You’ve got enough to worry about, yeah?” 

“Remus.” Tears prick your eyes, and you use them to your advantage, looking up at him beseechingly. “Please.” 

“Please what, doll?” There’s a wet suctioning sound as Sirius lifts his lips from your skin. You close your eyes. Swear to god, if you have a hickey on your back tomorrow… “Am I doing something you don’t like?” 

Remus starts to laugh, cut off halfway through by his own cursing as James picks up his pace behind him. He drops down for another kiss, hot and fast, not quite as sweet but no less savored. 

“In a minute,” he promises you, voice growing taut. “I’ll help you out in just a minute, dove.” 

Sirius chuckles darkly. He intends to make the most of the time he has left.

[pasteidolons]

aphelion - hjs

pairing: archaeologist!hong jisoo x curator!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, short story other characters: kim mingyu, xu minghao, choi seungcheol, park sooyoung, kang seulgi warnings: afab reader, alcohol use, cursing, smut (oral, p in v sex), people not able to talk out their feelings word count: 13.5k summary: the past catches up to you at an archeology exhibit in the italian town of pompeii. feelings trapped and unknown come to light when you end up face to face with someone you thought you’d never see again.

It’s not that the Italian sun is unfamiliar to you, you’d basked in its glow on a handful of occasions as you had traveled and worked in this country rich in both wine and history. The sun bearing down on you isn’t harsh, but it isn’t kind either, its soft rays acting to lull you into a dreamlike state of relaxation and wonder as it swallows the fluorescent lights of the airport as the sliding glass doors lead you outside and into its heat. Stone pines reaching towards the heavens, it is a strangely comforting feeling to see them looming above the cypress trees that adorn the landscape around the Naples airport. Maybe it’s you just thankful to be back on solid ground, the flight had been turbulent and the line at customs hellish. All you really want is a nap.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we made it,” hand finding the rim of a jet-black pair of Ray Bans, Park Sooyoung’s attention is drawn to the bright sky above, cloudless and blue as it reflects in the lenses of her glasses. “How long is the drive to the house?”

You and your friend had met up a few days earlier in order to travel together to an archeological conference in the historical hotspot of Pompeii. She, being an archivist in New York, and you, being one in London, had rarely seen each other since your grad school days and took this as an opportunity to convene with another friend, Mingyu, and play catch-up. It isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, since this is a work trip, but you’ll take what you can get in stride and hope for the best.

Papers folding and bending against each other as the pair of you stroll through the exit terminal, various cars and buses aligning the strip to both pick up and drop off passengers, you sigh, “Half an hour?”

The now meaningless plane tickets and visa information are now tucked away in a pocket of your bag, gone to the world until you’ll need it again to assess your travel information for reimbursement purposes. Flying on the company dime isn’t something you’re unwilling to do.  

From what your phone had told you and the various guides that had tried to help in the airport, you’re looking at a relatively short journey to the home you’ll be staying in. Your other hand holds the grip of your rolling suitcase as it trails behind you, clicking against the tile underfoot, “Although, Mingyu said that he could drive extra fast if we needed to get there sooner.”

The only way you can tell that your friend’s eyes had widened is from her eyebrows peeking out from the top of her sunglasses and her mouth left slightly agape at your statement, “No thanks. If it’s anything like it was back in New York, I’d prefer to live this weekend.”

Small laugh escaping you, you know she’s excited to see him, but she’d never admit as much. “He said he’d be under the Alitalia sign,” eyes scanning the cars but more importantly the faces of the drivers to try and determine a recognizable one among the masses.

“There he is!” Sooyoung’s voice, shrill and excited, calls out as she rushes over to a small red Fiat parked parallel between two large tour buses. A roll of your eyes at how obvious she’s being, it isn’t tooth rottingly sweet, but it is certainly something.

He’s leaning atop the small car’s hood when he hears the delighted call of your friend, eyes trailing upwards from the phone in his hand and a dimpled smile gracing his lips as he watches the two of you walking closer. “I was starting to think you took the wrong plane.” Phone slipped into his pocket, Mingyu pushes himself off the car and begins to walk towards you.

Sooyoung’s arms quickly wrap around his neck as she leaves you to catch her falling suitcase, a short ‘tch’-ing from your lips as she lets go of him and returns to her bag. “We got caught up in customs,” a step forward and you sling your arm around his neck in a quick hug before releasing him, “who knew July was prime tourist time?”

“The perfect reason to have a conference, huh?” He laughs, glancing towards Sooyoung’s and your luggage. “I’m not too sure all of this will fit in the trunk; someone might be stuck with it in the backseat.”

And that’s how you find yourself, head pressed up against the window as the rolling hills of the Italian countryside pass to your left, while a mountain of a collection of both Sooyoung and your baggage peeks into your periphery. Headphone in your right ear, you’d been listening to a podcast on your flight detailing different religions around the world and were continuing on listening to one detailing the festivities of the Roman holiday Saturnalia.

As you listen to how, while a merry tradition, it held underlying themes of human sacrifices and the benevolence/maleficence of the gods, you find yourself slowly nodding off as you press the side of your head against the glass of the window and close your eyes. Not before eyeing Mingyu looking over at Sooyoung with a smile on his face as her attention is rapt upon him. You’d made a bet with him when the three of you had first been acquainted as to just how long it would take him to ask her out. The way they look at each other is something you think only found in movies, it makes you yearn for an affection you don’t quite have in your life. Although you’d lost that bet, as they hadn’t so much as gone on a date, you can tell they’re just too chicken with one another to say anything.

The darkness of sleep quelled when Sooyoung quietly rouses you as she gently shakes your knee with her hand. She’s turned to look at you when your eyes crack open and the golden glow of the afternoon haloes her to make her look even more ethereal.

“Your forehead looks bruised,” a smile, more so caring than anything malevolent, on her lips as she knows how you’d barely slept the entire flight. “Mingyu said we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A look out the window and you realize that the scenery has shifted significantly, becoming rockier as the sight of the mountain is now far more in view than it was when you’d fallen asleep.

“The house is on the southern end of Vesuvius, it’s actually pretty close to the ruins if you have time to visit while you’re here,” Mingyu notes, knowing how much Roman history had enthralled you in your earlier years of work.

“We’ve got a few days,” Sooyoung ponders as if she’d already planned out her free days at the conference, “I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”

Eventually the car winds its way through some narrow street at the base of the mountain and you come upon a small, rustic looking house. The walls are old, obviously not built in this century, but look well cared for. There is a small walkway leading around the side of the house and you wonder where it’ll take you, but most of your attention is focused on pulling your bags from Mingyu’s car.

“Your room’s the second door on the right after you go up the stairs,” Mingyu says as you make your way to the front door as he was now struggling with the weight of Sooyoung’s bags in his grasp.

After rolling your eyes at him you make your way inside, the dark wooden floors and pale beige walls greeting you rather plainly. There is something elegant about the simplicity, but your attention now lies on not losing your center of balance as you haul your bags up the narrow staircase. You follow his directions and move down the hallway and come to your room, bed made and the last glittering rays of sunlight peek in through the curtains on the singular window above the bed. It’s quaint and homely, something you hadn’t had for a very long time as you think to the dismal apartment you keep London.  

You descend the flight of stairs, thankful that you don’t have to tote any more luggage up from the car, and make your way into the kitchen. Perhaps you’d hoped to grab a glass of water, yet your actions halt when you see the figure of and older woman standing at the kitchen counter with several canvas bags in hand. She smiles and gives you a small wave while cheerily saying “Buona serata!”

Returning the gesture with a mumbled “Buona serata,” of your own, you skirt around the edge of the kitchen to grab a glass and pour yourself some water from a nearby pitcher.

“My landlord likes to come over every Friday to cook,” A voice from your right and you glance over and notice Mingyu standing beside you. “She says it’s because her family’s grown up now and she needs someone to care for.” A nod of your head as you watch the older woman unpack her canvas grocery bags, the contents full of things both familiar and foreign.

“Grazie mamma,” Mingyu smiles and walks forward, seeming to want to help his landlord in her cooking ventures. His helpful hands are eventually swatted away, her saying something rapid but you get the gist that she doesn’t need any aid.  

“What’s she making?” you ask as you catch sight of Sooyoung walk into the kitchen, almost as pale as a sheet as she makes way over to your side.

There’s a gentle tugging at your shirt as Mingyu questions his landlord. A glance to Sooyoung and she mouths ‘We need to talk’ before getting interrupted with Mingyu saying, “Chicken cacciatore with polenta, I think?” A buzz from his pocket and he looks at his phone, “My roommate’ll join us in a little while. He’s on his way back from a dig and shouldn’t be too long.”

Mingyu hadn’t mentioned his roommate too much, just said they’d met when their team was assembled to scour Site V in the ruins of Pompeii and they’d become fast friends. They’d been living with each other for almost a year now and you can't even recall the name even after Mingyu had probably mentioned it a handful of times when you’d talked over the phone.

“Sounds good,” you smile, tugging at your shirt becoming a little more forceful as the urgency in Sooyoung’s eyes is more prevalent. The landlord says something to Mingyu, and he answers with a nod and leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. “What is it?” After a moment’s calm you turn to your friend, corners of your mouth turning downwards.

“I left my moisturizer at the hotel in Warsaw,” a gentle tugging again, pleading as she speaks once more, “Can I borrow yours?” The soft strums of a guitar and melancholy vocals of a woman emanating from the room Mingyu had left to go to, the landlord must’ve asked him to put on music.

“Is that what you were so weird about?” A gentle scoff leaving your lips as you nod, “Yeah, it’s in my-”

“I know!” She’s already bounding up the stairs and leaves you with the last of your sentence still in your throat.

“She hasn’t changed much, has she?” Mingyu asks as he reenters the kitchen. His gaze lingers on where Sooyoung once stood, a ghost of a smile noted by his dimples.

“Not one bit.” You note, “But you haven’t either, Mr. Kim. Your head is still stuck on Rome and on her.”

“She’s not-?”

“Dating anyone?” You interrupt at his worried tone, “No. Unless she’s got some hunk back in her lab.” A look of relief on his brow as you take a sip of water, “You know, you really should ask her out. She was excited to see you again.”

“It’s just,” a hum as he pauses to ruminate on his thoughts, “She’s all the way in New York and I’m here for who knows how long. It’d be difficult and I wouldn’t want to put that on a new relationship.”

“If you don’t think she’d pack her bags and move here you’d be lying to yourself,” A shake of your head as the sound of Sooyoung descending the staircase echoes around the small kitchen and brings your conversation to a stop. “It’s also Italy, for God’s sake.”

“I think your roommate’s here,” Sooyoung announces, stating that she’d seen a car pull into the already cozy driveway and turn its headlights off. Almost right as she finishes her sentence the sound of the front door opening catches everyone but the landlord’s attention, as she is too busy cooking and humming along to the music coming from the other room.

It’s funny how the memory of someone can stay so far gone in the depths of your subconscious that you can very well forget about them until they’re standing right in front of you. A fleeting glimpse into who and what you were before you’d blossomed into a more mature adulthood staring at you with eyes equally surprised as your own. A small ‘o’ shape of your mouth mirroring; the tousled hair, button down linen shirt and dust and dirt that clings to his khakis almost pulling you from the anchoring weight of the past. A small smile as he looks to Mingyu, the landlord and Sooyoung before hoisting a bottle of wine in the air, “I didn’t want to come in empty handed for our guests.”

“There he is,” Mingyu nods to the former, “This is my roommate Josh, we’re both partnered up on the same dig team.”

Jisoo. His name is Jisoo. “It’s-” you begin but falter almost immediately, unknowing if your friend is aware of the lingering history between both you and his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” an interjection from Sooyoung as she nods towards Jisoo, eyes trailing down to the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind if we crack that open now? It’s been a long day.”

Dinner had gone and passed more jovial than you’d thought it would, despite the coldness emanating from Jisoo who sits at the opposite end of the table as you. Fingers fiddling with the fork of your dessert plate, you prod at the panacotta lying half eaten in front of you as your appetite had been sated the moment Jisoo said that it was his favorite dessert.

Maybe he notices the lull in conversation, the sound of crickets chirping rising over the once chattering group, “So where did you and Josh meet?” Attention more turned towards Sooyoung rather than to yourself. Maybe it’s a slight to you but you don’t blame him, it only furthered the aching feeling in your chest as you bring your glass to your lips and drink the fiery vintage.

“We were all three interning together in New York our- what- senior year of college?” Sooyoung muses, lifting her wine glass to her mouth and taking a small sip, twirling the remnants of the local Lacryma Christi wine to aerate it further once she’d finished drinking. “Right?” She looks to Mingyu, who’s toying with another bottle of wine behind the three of you. The small bottle opener in hand, he only replies with a simple ‘Yeah,’ before furrowing his brow and setting back to try and uncork the stubborn bottle.

Elbows on the table as a flushed Jisoo leans in, “Where did you go to school?” He had always held his alcohol well, had something changed since you’d last seen him? Jisoo seems far more tipsy than he should be after two glasses of wine.

“It’s a small all girl’s school you’ve probably never heard of,” A wave of her hand as she sets her glass down onto the wooden table. “What about you?”

“Hamilton,” A glance to you, brief and painful, before he turns back to your friend, “But I also studied abroad in Korea for a little bit too.”

“Ah, you went there too. And you also studied abroad, right?” Sooyoung looks to you, brow raised in question as her index finger circles the top of her glass, inviting a response that you never wanted to give. “Did you know each other?”

“We knew of each other.” The sound of Mingyu pulling the cork from its home resonates around the small kitchen as you speak.

It was a Tuesday night, you’d just started watching Derry Girls and the cooling cycle of your AC unit had just kicked up with its trilling noise when a text on your phone buzzed, the words of the infamous “You up?” blaring across the screen in bold black letters. It was 10:47PM and you had a nine am the next day, you really shouldn’t respond. You could say no, say that you’re tired and want to go to bed instead of fucking your friend for the umpteenth time when he was trying to get over some girl he’d been chasing after on and off for your whole college career. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t ever because there’s that undeniable loneliness you had where human affection is a sought-after substance when you refused to forge the intimate bonds that held a man close to a woman. Or a man to a man. Or woman to a woman. Or to whoever preferred whoever. You aren’t one to judge.

Leaving the text for a moment, maybe two, to ruminate and stew in the Atmos of the unknown you responded saying “Only if you’ve got a bottle with my name on it.” Phone discarded onto your sofa you didn’t move again until he replied that he’d be over soon.

And with that you were off to the races to tidy up, clean bits and wipe of counters and take out the trash as you know he’s either on his way to the store, or already there, to pick up the treasured Cabernet Sauvignon that tasted of regret and unspoken vows the next morning. It was a solemn ritual; you’d drink as he lamented over the girl (half a bottle each), listen to music that both of you liked, he’d tell you the same story of him and his brother getting trapped in a tree as a child (because he obviously hadn’t ever told you this tale before), some film he’d watched once and couldn’t remember playing as the backdrop, and at some point he’d start playing with your hair. Long and slender digits patting, running through and twirling the strands that fell around your face, you weren’t even sure if this was done subconsciously or not. Not that you really cared anyway. Fingertips gently grazing your shoulder in the glow of the tv, then your cheek, then your lips as his hand slipped under your chin and your mouths clash together in a wanton want for something constant. And then you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to make sure you looked a presentable mess in your drunkenness.

Cheeks warmed with the wine trapped inside of you, maybe you’d had a little too much as your hand reached out to steady yourself on the counter as your other moved to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Fingers danced over your lips as the fiery feeling of his atop yours hadn’t quite left your system yet, you would laugh at yourself tomorrow for relishing in it but the you of now would soak up this limelight as this was the first time this semester this had happened. You had begun to wonder if it would again before his text tonight. Another look at your phone and it was nearing 1:30, a drowsiness in your system accompanied by the lull of the red had you stifling a yawn behind a hand raised to your mouth.

He’s in your bed by the time you exit the bathroom. Eyes shut and slow breathing as the woes of the world were only that of it spinning greatly on its axis. Conceptual in nature you never sought to feel anything more than just a friendship with him. Sure, it was a friendship that was deeply ingrained in fucking each other to take your mind off whatever was troubling you at the time, but a friendship, nonetheless. 

You stood in the glow of the streetlights bleeding in from the outside, a majority of his clothes had been strewn onto the floor, and yours were quick to follow. You were trying to get the damned hooks of your bra to unlatch when you heard him shift behind you.

“Allow me,” a smirk danced along his lips as he noticed you struggling with unlatching your bra. You relented as the palm of his hand landed on your lower back, sliding up leaving behind a trail of warmth. In a simple motion, he was able to unhook it with only one hand.

A short laugh as you shrugged off the garment, throwing it to the littered pile of clothes on the ground. You turned and found his lips, “Love that party trick of yours,” you murmured between kisses. With your right hand you gently pushed him backwards towards the bed. 

As the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, but not before reaching to grab your hands to bring you down with him. 

After a few more pecks with your chest flush against his, you sat up, straddling his lap as he chased your lips until he couldn't reach them anymore. Instead, his hands that were entwined with yours released their hold and traveled up your sides, finding anchor on your hips. It was then he began to gently guide your hips to move, you couldn’t  help the moan that fell from your lips or the way your hips instinctively rolled over his painfully hard cock.

“I can feel you through the fabric,” he sighed out breathing heavily, he glanced down to where your bodies almost met, the wetness of your core seeping through the layers of cloth. “Is that all for me?”

“Only for you,” you murmured, knowing it would spur him further. “Just touch me more.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, he did. His right hand raised, his thumb brushed over your breast, his index finger moved as well to play with your hardening nipple. You found yourself shifted to the flat of your back when you let out a moan and he moved himself to hover over you, looking down at his hand gliding over your skin, any feeling of shyness quickly left him. His lips met yours as his hand slid back down your side, the other being used to leverage himself over you. 

Something’s said, you’re not sure exactly what as it’s a mixture of words you do and do not understand. Jisoo’s lips lower, to your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. His hands find the sides of your hips, his own feet falling to the floor as he drags you to the side of the bed so that your knees and calves dangle over the edge. Fingers tangled through his dark and once coiffed locks as he lowered himself to your core, you couldn’t help but to try and quell your pounding heart. 

“Help me with this part?” He asked quietly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You obliged willingly, raising your hips to let him slide off the cloth with ease. “Perfect,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips captured your bud and your back arched at the contact, his hands moved away from your breasts and down your sides to the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart. 

His fingers run along your slick, gathering it as he releases your clit with a small pop before he pushes his index finger inside of you. After a moment, the word, “Move,” left you more enthusiastically than you anticipated. Yet he met your request with fervor, pumping his digit into you while you curled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his locks.

“Fuck–!” voice breathy as it leaves you, another finger, his middle, added to your core causing you to relinquish your hold on him to find your hands tangling atop the duvet.  

“Do you feel good?” He questions almost teasingly, knowing the answer as you let out a string of words ebbing on profanity and proclamations of your feelings. 

“I think– you know the answer–!” You tried to joke before you cried out as he pistons his hand faster, you feel yourself on the precipice of release. It's when he reattached his lips to you clit did the band snap within you and you cried out, your limbs had begun to tremble when he continued his movements, riding out your orgasm until you lightly nudged him away with your knee and he pulled his fingers from you. 

“Come here,” you murmur as you sat up, holding your hands out to him as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand between your open legs. Your hands found the sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, the taste of you and him intermingling in your mouths. One of your hands slipped away from his face, traveling down his bare chest and towards the hem of his boxers.

“We don’t,” he stopped, lips parting from yours as he searched your eyes, his hand finding yours, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you nodded, head tilting slightly as if to gauge him, “do you not want to?”

“God, fuck,” he sighed under his breath as you caught your lower lip between your teeth, “Of course I do. Do you have a condom?”

“In the side drawer,” you said breathily as he stepped away, quickly fumbled in the dark for a moment before he procured the condom.

And with that he pressed his lips to yours once more and your back hit the mattress. Your teeth clicked together clumsily, but it was forgotten with a small laugh as your fingers traced the elastic of his waistband. He hovered over you, forearm holding up his upper body as he trapped yours within the confines of his knees, his free hand moved to help yours pull down his underwear.

The room was filled with tangible electricity, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy in the air as you both had shed the last remnants of clothing. Your skin tingled with anticipation, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found yours once more, urgent and hungry, as if trying to convey all the longing and desire that he’d been harboring towards that other girl for months. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

It’s then he pulled back, tearing open the condom’s wrapper and quickly rolling it onto himself. You watched his eager moments in amusement as you sat up, fascinated by how much he was willing to fuck. When he caught you looking, a deeper rooted desire overtook him and he came back to meet you at the side of your bed. Your hand went out to stroke him, but he caught your wrist, gently pushing it back onto the bed. 

“Mine,” His breath hot on your skin as he leaned in, pushing you back onto your back, hive raspy tone sent chills shooting from your head to your toes as he aligned himself with you. The breath had been pulled from your throat, when he pushed himself inside. “Please say you’re mine.”

A strangled sort of laugh escaped you, unknowing why he was acting in such a possessive manner. “Just for tonight.”

As your bodies melded together, skin against skin, you lost yourself in the sensation of him, in the overwhelming intensity of your connection. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you both.

When you looked at him, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair tousled from your hands running through it, your heart swelled with a feeling as if it were trying to crawl up your throat. The scent of pine and a shiver snaked itself up your spine. He removed his lips from the side of yours, looking down at you like a beholden idol, his hips snapped into you as he'd begun to chase his own high. 

There was desperation in his kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t stemming from where you believed it to be. Your eyes screwed shut in abject ecstasy as your peak toppled you off of a high cliff, and it didn’t seem like Jisoo was too far off behind you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you. His fingers quickly moved around the condom and he pulled it off before wrapping his hand around himself. He stroked himself a few more times before you felt stripes of heat spurt onto your abdomen.

He stood for a moment, regaining his composure before he excused himself for a moment, returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and gently wiped it across your stomach to remove the essence of him. Jisoo then tossed the rag onto the floor and fell next to you on the mattress before wrapping his arm around you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as your chest still heaved with the sighs and exhalations of pleasure. 

The shock that came oh so prevalently to your features when he uttered the cursed “I think I love you” instead of the usual transition into a deep slumber.

Try as you might to steal him away from his yearnings and into the beguiling sin that engrossed you like a funeral shroud you shook your head with a, “No you don’t,” as you raised his hand to your lips and placed a chaste kiss onto his knuckles. A laugh as you were drunk on the spirit and freed inhibitions accompanying the acidic red scouring your veins. “You’re in love with the possibility of something loving and fucking you back.” In truth you weren’t sure if that’s it but repeating it to yourself and vocalizing it sure sounded better than facing your own crippling anxiety of it all.

Tensing under you as the brush of your lips atop his skin left him more flushed than not, “I just confessed to you and you’re telling me that I don’t love you?”

“I am,” a nod of your head as you turned atop the mattress to face him, his breath hot against your face while a confused expression settled into his. “You are far too drunk to be saying things like that and I’m far too drunk to want to accept them,” you reached your hand to caress his cheek before you felt his reach up to gently grasp around your wrist to pull it away.

“Are you saying you’ll love me when you’re sober?” The sensation of rough stubble beginning to emerge from his face still lingering on your fingertips, you closed your hand to staunch the feeling.

Scoff from your lips piercing him like an arrow, “I’ll love you when you start loving yourself over that girl.” The orange slants of lights bleeding in through your blinds from the street below your apartment was the only thing that illuminated the two of you. His hand fell away from your wrist and your hand dropped down onto the small space of mattress that distanced your body from his. “You’re too stupidly handsome to not love yourself.”

Quizzical smile playing on his lips as you felt his eyes peering into yours. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of the population thinks you’re handsome, Jisoo.” A roll of your eyes as you turned onto your back, looking up at your pale ceiling, orange glow still emanating from outside.

“What about the other one percent?” As you moved to place your hand atop your stomach he asked, also moving to look up at the ceiling with you.

He was only the narcissist you knew him to be when you were alone with him. Joshua may have loved his physical appearance but was always critiquing his personality, his interactions with others. “Oh, they actually do think you’re handsome, they just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Can we just stay like this?” Breaths intermingled with the cool air of your apartment as he moved to take your hand in his, warmth emanated from his palms and danced atop his fingertips. “I don’t really feel like-”

“Yeah, of course,” an impending sense of dread ran cold through your once warm veins, an involuntary shiver coursed through you causing him to pull you in closer as he thought that you were just cold. You weren’t, just knew of what’s to come tomorrow.  

He was gone by the time you woke up, morning light shining in as you had to hold a hand up to block it from permeating through your eyelids any longer. When your hand ran atop the cool mattress where he was supposed to be, a pang reverberated around your rib cage as you realized he must’ve been absent for some time. Normally after one of these nights the two of you would head to some diner that still sold breakfast around noon while you frantically typed away at an email telling your professor that you’d gotten food poisoning the night before and couldn’t make it to class. Now you were alone and void of the sense of urgency that skipping class tended to put on you.

As if he had impeccable timing, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a notification detailing that you had several missed calls and unread texts. A sigh from your lips as you reached out to grab the device, swiping it unlocked and reading the last message he’d sent, “Blue @ 2?”

He’d already been seated when you walked into the dingy diner on the outskirts of your college town. Gaudy retro blue interior, a mockup of Elvis at the entrance and the small jukeboxes adorning each table just reminding you of all the times you’d sat in here, hungover and tired. Now you were hungover, tired and anxious. Jisoo was picking at a tray of fries as you slid into the booth, looking up to you as you sat, the vinyl squeaking as you moved atop it, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

There was a gritty, off sounding version of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ coming from the little jukebox to your right and you wondered if Joshua had fished out the quarters from his mess of a wallet for it to be playing. He knew it was one of your favorites. “I’m working on my stealth, might just drop out of college and become an international spy at this rate,” You smiled as you shrugged off your jacket.

A nervous smile on his lips, you hadn’t seen that since your freshman year and the whole debacle with that girl had started. Something was on his mind and you knew it would never come out unless you prodded first. Smile on your face faltered as an impending feeling of dread began to surge through you, “What is it?”

“What?” Eyes widening as he shoved a fry in his mouth, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why did you ask me to come out when I know you’ve got a history or business class right now?”

“A Comprehensive Study of Italian Literature throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.” Another fry eaten, he spoke with his mouth full, “It’s not really something I want to sit through every day. And I wanted to see you.”

“For?”

“Do I have to have a reason for wanting to?”

“You typically do.” A shrug of your shoulders as most of the reasons had been like the incident that spurred last night’s escapade, or to run over notes for an upcoming exam. And that one time where he’d asked you to look after a cat he’d been trying to smuggle into his no pets allowed apartment complex.

Silence as the cogs turn in his head, you can almost see them as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. “It’s about last night.” His hand rests atop the red basket that housed the last of the fries. He lets out a sigh, removing his hand and brushing it atop a nearby napkin, “I mean what I said.”

“Jisoo…” name faltered on your lips as you knew what was to come, “You know I’m not looking for that right now. And what about that girl? Isn’t that why you came over in the first place?” the dynamic shifting between the two of you with every word uttered out of this conversation. It was uncomfortable as you felt yourself pulling away when all he wanted to do is try to get closer to you. An anxiety running through you as your fingers clenched into fists atop your pant leg.

“That's why I came over. I realized I was looking for someone to replace you when all I ever needed was here.” His voice was quiet, calm and an air of shakiness interlaced through it.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I’m not really sure.” Humming as he took a glance out the window, gray clouds sweeping over the once verdant blue of the evening. “Are you really never going to give me a chance?” He still wasn’t looking at you, you weren't sure if he was able to.

It’s blurry now, the rest of that afternoon. It had begun to rain while the two of you sat in that diner, precipitation pelting the sides of the restaurant as you both made a haste escape to your apartment. Clothes littered on the floor as you somehow make your way into your bedroom, kisses both chaste and longing grazing your skin as your hands run through his now messy locks.

You hated how tender Jisoo was, how bittersweet his lips felt on yours as his hands caressed your sides as he pressed himself on top of you. Hated how he melted under you and careened for your touch even if you’d only lifted your hand from his seconds prior. There was a want inside of him that you could feel rearing to break free, but he was holding himself back, he always held himself back. He craved an affection you were unwilling to give, too reluctant to lose yourself to the possibility of him.

This wasn’t a goodbye; it was a plead for you to stay. With your sheets wrapped around you and strayaways of your hair clinging to the sides of your face you tell him to leave, you’re tired and need to get some sleep at some point because you've already missed too many classes. It pained and tormented you to push him away, he was a good friend, a good lover but you never once had the thought that he could hold that guarded place in your heart that had been untouched by anyone. You were afraid that you loved him back.

You hadn’t said a word to him since that afternoon. Nothing from him ever came to you either, the ties had been cut at that meeting and no trying to forage the relationship anew ever came. The two of you grew apart and became separate people, you never looked after him and you had no idea if he looked after you. There was some comfort you gave yourself in never seeking him out, you didn’t have to own up to the fact he existed anymore and that the assholishness of your years prior could remain a secret. But now faced with that undeniable presence of him back in your life you feel as if the pillars holding you aloft are beginning to crumble.

“With the earth is in aphelion we tend to lose ourselves, finding that even though it may be summer and memories of an us no longer presents itself, we question the now and want to return to the past. It’s a captivating notion, isn’t it? Take this time to reflect on yourself and the choices you’ve made to understand who you are now and who you were then.”

Roll of your eyes as the host begins to finish up her spiel of moving forward as it feels all too relating to your current situation. Hand moving to pause the podcast as you hear a gentle knock on your door. You’d finally gotten the back of your dress zippered up on your own after what felt like an eternity of it not budging those last few centimeters. “Come in,” you call out and Sooyoung opens the door right away.

“Are you almost ready?” She asks, looking stunning as ever in a simple sparkly nude dress, the v of the neck gives only little to imagine but she pulls it off with more grace than anyone else you could picture. “Mingyu’s getting the car ready so we should all head out soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod, glancing to the small standing mirror atop the wooden dresser. It wasn’t optimal lighting to pretty yourself up in but you’d dealt with worse.

“What’s aphelion?” She asks as she reaches for the door handle, eyes looking to the now black screen of your phone. “The lady on your podcast was talking about it.”

“It’s the furthest point away the earth is from the sun. We’re actually in it right now.” Musing as you move to toss your phone onto the bed, beside your purse that you’ll be using that night.

“Isn’t it summer though? If we’re at the furthest point, shouldn’t it be winter?”

A shrug of your shoulders as she opens the door, realizing your answer could probably be better recurved via a google search. “I couldn’t tell you,”  muttering as you lean over to collect the pair of shoes strewn at your feet.

Sooyoung leaves as you begin to slide your heel into your shoe, once put on you stand for a moment on wobbly legs as you hate the way these events make you dress up for things. You feel like a newborn foal as you tiptoe your way to your purse and then to the door. Cracked open it lets a sliver of light in, then a shadow passing over it as someone walks by. “Sooyoung, did you-” thinking it was your friend returning to her room for something you open the door and look down the hall, only to find the widened eyes of Hong Joshua looking back. The two of you stare at each other, vocalizing internally a conversation that had yet to occur or maybe that had in your dreams. “I thought you were-,” a shake of your head as you wave it off. “I’m going now.”

“After you,” a hand motioning to the stairwell as you brush past him, palpitations thrumming so loudly inside your chest you’re surprised he can’t hear them.

When you get to the car you see that Sooyoung’s already in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone as Mingyu messes with the radio of the car in a feeble attempt to get it working again. You slide into the backseat, your stomach dropping when the other backseat door opens and Jisoo gets in beside you. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a bigger car than you were in now.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the welcome party, Mingyu and Sooyoung made casual small talk whereas the back two seats lay dead silent as you try to cave in on yourself. Jisoo is everything you remember and everything you curse, the scent of his favored Jo Malone cologne soaking into you as you sit in the backseat has you reeling. You don’t even know they made the Amber and Lavender scent anymore. Nor were you aware that he could dress this nicely, he’d only followed the preppy boy trend back in college and at his best you think you could recall him wearing some Ralph Lauren polo to an outdoor event. That was the Jisoo you’d known. Not the dolled-up enigma that sits next to you, his knee lightly knocking into yours as the car moves over the bumpy streets.

You’re not sure which deity to thank as the Hotel Diane is only a twenty-minute venture from the house. Before anyone has the ability to assist you getting out of the car as you roll up to the entrance of the venue, you unbuckle your seatbelt and make a speedy retreat into the bowels of the conference. You can hear Sooyoung calling out after you as you race into the plethora of archeologists, researchers and everything in between. A sigh of relief as you find the restroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls as you try and sate your rapidly beating heart.

It was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, the regret and anguish over him. Yet the flame ignited once more when his eyes had met yours yesterday evening. You barely slept that night and you were plagued by memories the entirety of today. Hong Jisoo is a plague that you don’t want to give up. Or maybe the memory of him is, you know nothing of what became of him after the triste in college had ended and you had gone your separate ways.

“You look like shit,” Sooyoung’s voice hitting you almost as soon as you exit the bathroom, “Not your makeup or anything, that’s fine.” A hand raised as if sensing your aura or to generalize the vibe you were giving off, “Your expression though. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You blink, trying to mask the anxiety riddled through you with a confused façade. “Nothing, I just really had to use the restroom.”

“And it had nothing to do with the handsome man sitting in the backseat with you?” She poses as the two of you begin to walk through the atrium, sliding past other partygoers. As you near a catering staff member holding a tray of drinks, Sooyoung reaches out and plucks one off of the tray and hands it to you before getting one for herself, “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

A sigh as you bring the glass to your lips, drinking as you stride forward into the main gala, a large room adjacent to the main atrium. “Seeing him just reminded me of school, is all,” It isn’t a complete lie, just not the wholehearted truth either.

It seems as if everyone’s begun to be ushered into the main hall, the lights of the stage in the back of the room brightening as an older man walks up, a handful of notecards in his grasp. Doors shut behind the last of the stragglers, the gravelly voice of the man begins to welcome everyone to the annual conference and how it was such a treat to hold it in a historic place. The lights of the room dimming to draw attention towards the stage, you find yourself lost in drink as he speaks, eyes wandering the crowds as you catch Joshua looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a name to. It only made you drink more, swapping out your now empty glass with a new one from a server’s tray nearby.

The speech drags on for another five minutes or so, detailing the events of the weekend. The words tuned out as you feel the burn of alcohol down your esophagus. When the speech is done and the lights brought up, you and Sooyoung make a round around the room, chatting with several acquaintances from conferences and events prior and greeting any new faces you come across.  

“How’s your new exhibition in London going?” A voice asks as you turn to your left, “I hope everything got there safely?”

Turning to now greet a familiar face, “Of course it did, Seungcheol. No thanks to you, of course.” Mischievous smile flashing as Sooyoung leaves your side to wander over to a group of Mingyu’s cohorts. “I’m surprised you lent us your exhibit on such short notice, it’s only been up for a few days but luckily enough I was there to see the inaugural showcase. It’s absolutely phenomenal, by the way.”

Smile now coating his features, “I’m glad it worked out. And anything for an old friend.” He takes a sip out of the glass in his hand, glancing around the room for a moment as if to observe the atmosphere. “It seems busier than usual, doesn’t it? I hear it’s largely in part due to the handful of new teams they’ve set up in the area.”

“Well, typically these are held in stuffy new cities, can’t blame the attendance for being higher here.” You note as you look over the faces of the other patrons. “St. Louis wasn’t all that exciting, was it?”

“Learning about Cahokia was, though.” He notes with a raised brow and turns his attention back to you. “I saw you come in with Mingyu, do you know him?”

“We interned at the Smithsonian and went to grad school together; do you know him?”

“I met him the other day when a few of us early birds were able to get a behind the scenes tour of sector V. I actually know his teammate Joshua, I saw you come in before them so I’m assuming you know him as well?” Seungcheol questions as he scans the crowd for the sight of the taller looming above everyone else.

“Only a little bit,” You lie as the varnish of perceived reality begins to chip away, bit by bit, “I’d say I’m better acquainted with Mingyu really.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. He’s a bright kid, if you ever get to know him, was a great help when our junior archivist was out of town for a while…” You hope he can’t see the painted smile on your face as he speaks again, “Have you met any of their teammates? It really is an eclectic bunch.”

“I haven’t actually, I think Sooyoung’s talking with them now.” Peering back to see Sooyoung laughing at something Mingyu was saying, “I should probably introduce myself.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got an archivist and an architect to track down somewhere around here. It was nice seeing you again,” He gives you a short nod before heading off into the masses.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sooyoung’s hand that isn’t occupied with a wine glass slips around your waist as you approach the group. “I was just telling them how you managed to snag the Gohyang exhibit, not that they really care. They’re all archaeology nuts.”

“I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then?” Shooting Sooyoung a short glare before looking to the handful of people surrounding you, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Nice to meet you too,” A voice speaks up and a hand raises to meet yours as Sooyoung’s grip around your waist is lost. “I’m Minghao, the site supervisor, kind of in charge of these guys.”

Another voice beside him, “Don’t let him act all high and mighty about it, it’s just because our real team leader broke his wrist skiing and is on leave for the next two weeks.” Different hand to shake, “I’m Seulgi. I work in forensics.”

“And you already know Mingyu and Joshua, they’re pretty much our main diggers,” Minghao notes and looks to Mingyu, “Where is he by the way? Didn’t you two come together?”

Humming as Mingyu’s eyes scan the crowd, “I’m not sure, he might’ve ducked out to get some fresh air. You know how he gets.” Unable to find him, his attention returns to the group, glancing over at you, “Was he always this weird at events?”

“Do you know him?” Seulgi's voice interrupts before you’re able to speak, pulling your attention away from your friend and to her.

“I-”

Once again interrupted, this time by Sooyoung. “She actually went to school with him. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not so much in this field,” Minghao muses, something wistful in his tone, “We all come across each other at some point.”

“You’re still not going to get over that Russian tomb raider, are you?” Seulgi sighs, attention focusing back to you. “But was he? He’s always happy at the dig site but whenever we come to these sorts of events, he gets all quiet and taciturn. It’s like he’s looking for someone who’s never really going to show up.”

“That’s uh- Oddly specific.” Uttering under your breath, uncomfortable at the turn of events and barrage of questions being thrown at you. “And I really didn’t know him that well.”

“Ah come on,” Sooyoung’s voice slurs ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink. “I can hardly believe you went to a small school in the middle of BFE, go on a study abroad trip with him and didn’t talk to him.”

Pressure building as if you’re a kettle with nowhere to expunge the steam rapidly rising inside of you. You’re a trapped animal, cornered in a room of vicious predators.

A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you, and before you can stop yourself, the words start tumbling out. “I mean we were classmates and we knew each other- We were kind of friends and more, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious, you know? I needed to focus on my studies, on my career. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I told him that, but he just… he wanted more. But it didn’t make sense because he was in love with someone else, always talking about her like she was the one, and I felt like… like he was just using me to fill some void or get over her or something. And I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and now—”

Your voice cracks, the guilt and confusion spilling over as you realize how loud and rambling you’ve become thanks to the alcohol that not only lessened your anxiety but loosened your tongue. The group falls into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You can feel the burn of a gaze on the back of your neck, and when you turn, there he is—Jisoo, staring at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and something else you can’t quite place.

Smile instantly dropping into a grimace, a mumbling of “Oh shit,” as he brushes past you without so much as a glance, wine stem threatening to break under the stress you now exude from your fingers. A pit dropping in your stomach as the reality of your words and the carelessness of your actions only sought to further dredge you from the comfort of your mind and into the abysmal present.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize with wide eyes to the group. A guilty being inside of you chases after him, the clacking of your shoes atop the marble floor echoing around the space yet muffled by the number of people that you’d outright embarrassed him in front of. Not that they’d all heard, only the ones that matter to him. You set the wine glass in your hand atop a small table before you exit, only after downing the last of the liquid that remained, hoping the warmth of your cheeks is more so from the wine than your mortification. You need liquid courage, yet if you consume any more, you’re unsure what other vile secrets may come tumbling from your lips.

Jisoo’s standing in the atrium of the building when you find him, tie loosened from his neck as if it had sought to choke out every last word from his mouth. You approach with a slowing velocity, unsure how to reintroduce yourself after the disaster of an evening. Another calamity incurred by a slip of the tongue and careless action by you, unlike your past self now this blinding awareness overtook you and a tremendous amount of guilt found itself weighing you down.

“I’m not good with words, I never have been.” A hand had run through his hair as he looked far too more shaken now than he had in the moments prior. Footsteps atop tile as he paces the space, a statue of some Roman deity or emperor looking down upon the two of you as if it meant to judge your sins. “I’ve tried so goddamned hard to forget about this and you just think it’s okay to waltz right back into my life and make it all some sort of fantastical joke?” You feel as if you were a child being scolded by a parent rather than whatever you would define your relationship with Joshua now. If there even was one to define. Eyes trailing the floor as the sternness in his voice was reason enough for you to never want to make eye contact with him again, your blood was hot, and you were warm with repentance. “You broke my heart, what makes you think that you have the right to come back?”

“If you want me to say I’m an asshole I can, the largest of assholes who was too stupid and vain to think of anyone but myself. That was a total lie back there I don’t even know why I said it.” You feel slovenly with the way the words fight their way out of you as you apologize for the immoralities of a time long past, “Jisoo,” he winces at the name, your sure no one’s called him that in some time, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sorry for much more than the scene you’d just caused.

“Did you really never care about me?” The pain in his voice renders you from the present and into the past where he’d found you hidden away in some closet at a fraternity party. Your arms slung around the neck of someone you’d only met a handful of times before then, focus breaking when the door opens, and streams of blinking led lights from the party outside flooded into the dark space. It had taken you a moment to recognize the large silhouette in the doorway, shadow casting onto the two of you locked into a crude embrace. Blinking you return to the hardened stare he gives you now, reminiscent of that you saw in his eyes that day. “You fucked my friend and didn’t think anything of it.”

“We hadn’t spoken in months! I wasn’t obligated to pine over you when we’d practically become strangers.” Yet you had. This hallowed feeling had plagued you for months following that night, you’d remembered it the morning after and had an apology text written that you never found the courage to send. It sat on your phone screen for longer than you would have liked it to, but that’s what it did, sat and collected virtual dust while you found solace in finding use in other men to take your mind off of him.  

Eyes finding comfort in the statue above, you wait for the words trapped inside of his chest like a caged beast to be wrought upon you as he had probably wished to do since the last you’d seen him. They never come. No floods or wrath or hellfire fury wrung out for you to find. Just silence as the gentle chatter from the ballroom down the hall faintly ambling as the backdrop to your tragedy.

“If I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have come.” Spare him from this detriment of character. Scared. You were scared and that’s why you’d not spoken to him since that rainy afternoon. He’d said something before he left but you were too busy trying to keep yourself together to remember what he’d uttered. In his absence you’d try to remember, but it all proved fruitless and you perhaps had lost one of your truest friends that day. “Didn’t Mingyu tell you we were coming?”

Hands in his pockets, gaze racked onto something painted onto the domed ceiling of the atrium. “He did.” Breaking your gaze from the statue you look to him, quizzical brow already set atop your features.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Voice quiet, you feel the alcohol tunneling your vision and pulsing through your fingertips.

“To see if you’ve changed, to see if you’re still vehemently against my happiness.” Eyes turned to you as a frown adorns his lips. You’d never felt such seriousness come from him, it made you feel even more a cornered animal than you’d been in the ballroom. “It’s obvious that you are though, I should’ve expected as much.”

“Vehemently against your-? What the hell are you talking about Jisoo?”

“You never wanted me to be happy!” Hands flying out of his pockets as they move to gesticulate a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend. “Every time I tried to move towards you, you always pushed me away. I tried to accept and understand that, but you let me into your arms on more occasions than I can count on my two hands. If you really didn’t want me then why did you continue to let me in like that?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor! I was taking your mind off of that girl! You never wanted me, or I was too stupid to see that you actually did because you talked about her all of the fucking time!” Voice raising as you continued, a fire boiling in your blood that you hadn’t realized had been only simmering for the past eternity. “It took too long for me to realize that I loved you back.” You were in love with him. You are in love with him and now you’ve gone and ruined any chance you had at reconciliation again. It’s as if some Austenian novel was taking place yet it was far too real and far too raw for it to be anything as romantic or gothic as such.

“Loved me back,” a bark from the back of his throat, a laugh of incredulity as the damnation in his gaze is ever so present, he didn’t believe you and he had every right not to. “You know, I thought about what I would say to you if I saw you again,” Leaning back so his weight now lay on the base of the statue, “I wrote out countless scenarios, questioning why you never reached out. Why I never tried to either. I was so, so angry at you and now I’m just tired.” Frown as he looks to the floor, the fire once bright behind his eyes simmering into a broken flame, “I can’t be too upset; I was as much an ass as you back then for not wanting to respect your wishes. But if I had loved you any less, I might just hate you now.”

A moment’s pause to reiterate what he’d said in your mind, the alcohol running rampant you take a few deep breaths in hope you’d heard what he admitted correctly. ‘Loved you any less,’ sounded like he certainly didn’t despise the essence of your being but with the way he’d acted prior to tonight made it seem as if you were a ghost to him. “Are you saying you don’t hate me?”

“I’m saying I’m old enough to realize that we both had our faults.” Gaze still trailing the veins of marble in the floor, “I used you as an emotional coping mechanism for the longest time before actually realizing I liked you. I didn’t even talk to her that last night, I just wanted to come over to be with you. But you,” Lower lip bitten as he nods his head, “I was never able to figure you out.”

Humbling as this whole situation is you’re finding it harder to stay upright, you move to stand next to him and motion to the bit of statue base beside him. He nods and scoots over enough to allow you enough space to lean alongside him. Warmth from where he once was lingering on your back, you let a sigh loose from your lips, “I was too selfish, I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but I was just scared.” Foot tapping against the floor as the gentle reverberations echo around the room, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I didn’t even sleep with your friend, I left soon after you did.”

Mouth parted to say something more, it never happens as the door to the main hall opens and Mingyu emerges, quickly moving to the two of you. “Would you mind if we head back a little early? Sooyoung’s a little, no, super drunk and I don’t want her to say anything embarrassing. Well, anything more embarrassing.”

Knowing how your friend got seemed to momentarily distract and sober you, a look to Joshua and then to Mingyu you nod your head, “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” Jisoo agrees and then opens his palm for Mingyu to throw him the car keys, “You get her and I’ll pull the car around.”

Gentle breathing as the warmth of another lying next to you in bed rouses you from slumber. Light peeking in from the window overhead as you shift, the fragrance of a rose scented shampoo greeting you. “Sooyoung,” a grumbling from your lips as you hadn’t realized that she’d snuck into your bed during the night, she was a clingy, cuddly drunk that you were normally never one to accommodate. But last night had been different, you barely remember the ride home as you’d been in and out of slumber. Joshua had driven while you took the passenger seat, Sooyoung’s head atop Mingyu’s lap as she gently snored away, finding sleep a much better accompaniment than drunkenness in a moving car.

“Five more minutes,” a murmur from her as she pulls the blankets closer to her chest, “I think I’m still drunk.”  

“Want to trade,” a hand moving to your forehead as you sit up, waves of nausea rolling like an unbearable tide through your system. “I need a Powerade and a nap. Do they have Powerade here?”

“Pedialyte maybe,” Sooyoung says, sounding more awake as the covers fall away as she sits up. She ponders for a moment, sleep in her eyes as she stares down at the white duvet. A yawn escaping her as she turns to you, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Hand running through your knotted locks, looking over to your similarly disgruntled friend.

“Oh, you know, the stock market.” Retort scoffing from her, “I’m talking about whatever the fuck happened last night between you and Joshua.”

Maybe you’d thought it all a dream, the argument and your drunken folly. Yet presented to you again you couldn’t help but acknowledge it, “I said something stupid and I apologized to him.” More than that you’d unthinkingly confessed you liked him eons too late, but you could blame that on your inebriation, although you’re not sure what he’d say. You’re not sure you saw him have a sip of anything at all last night.

“Seemed like a little more than that,” Shoulders shrugging as she moves to slide out of your bed and walk over to the small vanity. “When he was carrying you inside you were all over him, apologizing about something.”

“I what?” Eyebrows raising as you feel the familiar flush of embarrassment creep along your spine. “You must’ve been seeing things there’s no way in hell he’d do that.”

“-Even made sure to bring you some water,” you hadn’t realized she’d been continuing. “I can’t really remember much else though.” The sound of acute popping as she stretches her arms, “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if anything important happens, okay?”

A shake of your head as you usher her out to leave, an icy feeling running from your head to your toes as you think you’d rather stay in this room the entirety of your stay than face whatever was beyond the door. When you do get that confidence to venture out, as you didn’t hear anyone trapezing about the house, you try and quietly amble down the stairs as to not wake your slumbering friend a few doors down. Pounding in your head you make way to the kitchen to rummage around for an aspirin or five to rid yourself of the aftermath of indulgence. Quiet, “Shit,” escaping you as there’s nothing to be found, only water and tea. So, when Jisoo finds you sitting alone at the kitchen table, water glass in hand as your head is pressed gently to the rough wooden surface, he can surmise you’re probably not feeling your best. You hadn’t even heard the front door open, nor had you guessed he’d be dressed up in business attire once again. Another jarring thing to add to your morning.

“I figured you wouldn’t be feeling great,” His voice soft as if not to disrupt the cosmos, “I brought you and Sooyoung some espresso. It won’t cure your hangover, but it’ll wake you up.” The sound of a cup hitting the tabletop and you look up to see it sitting in front of you. The shift in his attitude over the course of the last two days all too paradoxical and overwhelming for you to think of right now. Your hand reaching forward to grasp the paper cup in your hands and slowly bring it to your face.

A sip taken and you sit up, “Thank you.” Finger running over the small hole atop the lid, “Sooyoung’s still asleep. I’m not sure when she’ll be up again.” Jisoo responds with a slight nod of his head, not furthering the conversation as it seems he’s lost in thought. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“At the conference,” It takes him a moment to respond, “I ducked out early to make sure you both were doing okay. He also wanted to know if the both of you wanted to check out the ruins today. It’s going to be crowded but we can sneak our way through without too much hassle.”

“I think we’d both be up for it after a little more sleep if that’s alright?” The scent of the espresso finally hitting you, it was good but didn’t sate the anxious butterflies floating around your stomach.

“That’s fine, you can go and get some sleep, Mingyu’s not supposed to be back for another couple of hours.”

“It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Walking through the ancient and weathered streets of Pompeii felt more as if you were walking through a graveyard rather than a place frozen in time. In a way it is a graveyard, yet most came to ogle at the plastered bodies of the deceased than appreciate the ability to see how the people once lived and thrived. You stand now, with Mingyu and Sooyoung, Jisoo standing some feet back as you gaze at one of the faded frescoes from antiquity.

“Sad, yes. Tragic? Absolutely.” Mingyu says as he takes a few steps further into the atrium of the household, towards the small, empty impluvium that sat in its center. “But in a way it’s kind of happy too, don’t you think? It’s a city lost in time but we’re slowly uncovering the past and its people.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a room like this in the MoMA,” Sooyoung says, looking down to the little guidebook in her hand.

“That’s actually from a villa outside of the city,” Mingyu interjects, “It’s preserved beautifully.” They share a look and you turn away, not wanting to impede on their moment.

Instead, your attention turns to Jisoo, who’s walking through the doorway and out into the street, lip bitten you contemplate following after him since you hadn’t really spoken to him since that morning and a plethora of questions are running around your head. You excuse yourself from the other two, not that they would’ve noticed as it seems they were in deep conversation, and head out into the increasingly overcast afternoon. “I don’t want to sound weird but what exactly did I say to you when we came back here last night?” Voice calling out to Jisoo as he reads something carved into a slate of marble beside the house. Standing atop the steppingstones that dotted the antique streets so that you could get a better look at him. “I can’t really remember and it’s been eating me alive all day.”

Hum from his lips as he glances to the cloudy sky and then to you, “You did say something about being ‘the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass,’ was that Shakespeare?” There’s a slight smile to his lips and you feel your stomach doing cartwheels. “You said it at least ten times.” He strides over, not needing to take many steps since his gait is that of a giraffe’s.

“Austen, actually.” Words coming out in almost a whisper as the two of you stand in silence. Birds cawing overhead and the buzz of nearby tourists as you don’t know what to say next.

“For someone who was never a romantic, you sure as hell indulge in romantic things,” casual musing and he moves his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of sun-dried dirt and salt envelops you, even with the clouds above the harshness of the sun felt ever so present on your back.

“I’m sorry,” words escaping you, “I-”

“You’ve already apologized more in a weekend than I could’ve hoped for in my entire life,” A shake of his head as he raises a hand to stop you. Tongue swiping his lower lip, “You know, I thought I was supposed to be angry when I saw you again, but when I saw you standing in the house after all this time, I was more happy than not?” Laugh escaping him, “Maybe I’m crazy.”

“I was too,” in a strange way you had been. The anxiety had been there, of course, yet there was an undeniable elation at seeing him. Flicker of a smile coming over you, “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Mingyu’s said you’ve climbed up in your career pretty fast,” A nod of his head, “I’d love for you to tell me more about it if you’ve got time to grab dinner while you’re here?”

“It’s not like we’re housemates for the week or anything,” You smile, “I’d really like that.”

When he takes your hand and doesn’t let it go after you’ve exited his car, that’s when you start to think, finally, his resentment towards you had begun to fade. When he holds the door open and pulls your chair out for you at the restaurant, is when your heart starts thrumming. When he pays the tab but you go out for an hour or two longer talking, reminiscing, and catching up is when you feel like you can look at him without any semblance of regret or shame. When his hand lingers atop yours while he tells you a story about an extravagant find in Site V is when you can’t wipe the smile from your lips and the euphoria from your chest.

“So, other than becoming a wildly prolific curator, what else have you been up to?” Hand moving away from yours as he leans back in the small wooden chair. The dim lights of the restaurant casting soft shadows across his features.

“I play tennis on the weekends, I’ve also got a cat back home but she’s kind of an asshole,” you laugh, returning your hand to your lap. “But what about you? I always thought you’d go into curation, never saw you as the archeologist type.”

“To be honest I thought it’d be like Indiana Jones, but I think the movies overexaggerated his job a little bit,” the joke playing gaily in his eyes as he shoots you a small smile. “But I might look into a museum job when I get older, it’s just too much fun being out in the field right now. I didn’t enjoy archiving as much as this.”

“I get that,” agreeing as you reach for your water, taking a sip before placing it back onto the table. “So, did you and that girl ever work out?”

“That girl,” Joshua pauses, “You know she has a name, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever called her by it.” Lips pursed as your finger plays with the condensation on the glass.

“What did you call her? An anglophile or something?”

“She always had that stupid union jack jacket on, it was like she was trying to be a wannabe Beatle,” it wasn’t a bad jacket. You realize now that it had probably been jealousy that coined the title.

A short laugh, “I remember that. But no, we never ended up together. I’m really only dating one person right now.”

Brow furrowing, had you gotten this whole night misconstrued? “Oh really? Who is it?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. We kind of found him halfway under a rock a few years back and have been trying to piece him and his story together ever since.” Eyes widening as he tells you the tale, “He’s at least nineteen hundred years old so I don’t think it’ll work out between us though.”

“You’re an asshole,” scoffing as you roll your eyes at him. In all honesty you were a little relieved he’d only been joking.

The two of you slowly begin to realize the lateness of the hour, the moon hanging high as you exit the bar with warm faces and hints of smiles lingering on your lips. There is a coolness in the air that hadn’t been present when you’d entered, it wasn’t cool enough to make you shiver but it feels pleasant as it runs over your skin. The drive home is filled with aimless chatter, it just feels comfortable to be back on good terms with him and feel his presence once more in your life.

Not too long after you arrive to the house, you find your friends absent. Checking your phone, you see they’ve gone off to watch a film and wouldn’t be back for another hour or two. You sit on the plush, green velveteen sofa of the living room as Jisoo saunters in with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “I’m shocked at the amount of wine everywhere, I feel like if I stuck a spigot into the ground it’d be wine that comes out instead of water.”

“The Italians love their aperitifs and their wine,” Jisoo says as he pours out two glasses and hands you one. The TV turned onto a channel playing a movie you know but dubbed in Italian, you watch for a moment before feeling the brush of a hand atop your shoulder. Turning to look, you see Joshua’s head tilted to the side as his fingers dance along your shoulder.

“Can you tell me if I’m being too presumptuous?” A nod of your head as his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with a few strands of your hair, “But I don’t think my feelings about you changed all too much since I told you I loved you. And I understand if you don’t want to accept me again because it’s been too long, and we’ve grown apart but-”

Jisoo’s ramblings are cut short when you lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. It isn't your first kiss with him, nor was it his with youu. Although it was your first kiss with him that you wholly put intention behind as you’d never allowed it before because it had called for an intensified intimacy, you’d been scared to assign yourself to such a concept. Yet now you feel as if you were ready, “I love you too.”

Pulling your face away from him, the stars of disbelief shine in his eyes as the glow of the TV lights illuminate the smile on his lips. He looks relieved, sated and gleeful, a cornucopia of feelings that were unobtainable so long ago. Without another word you settle into each other, your head upon his chest as his hands run absentmindedly through your hair, the staticky nature of the television and sounds of a summer night outside lulling you both to sleep. It’s difficult to explain the situation to your friends that walk in an hour and a half later, startling the two of you awake as they come upon you. Their hands interlocked with each other, you shoot Mingyu a look to which he avoids, Sooyoung only winks and looks down to your hand which you find covered by Jisoo’s. It’s a silent act of solidarity, just a casual acceptance of what time had spurned as the night trudges onwards and you return to his side as the other two make their way upstairs.

[toxic-libra]

moth to a flame pt.1 - csb (m)

pairing: soobin x fem!reader word count: 17.5k genre: friends with benefits-ish (he helps her with dating tips and stuff), angst if u squint really hard, smut, fluffy, inspired a bit by moth to a flame - the weeknd warnings: 3rd person pov (as always), mentions of reader in love with another guy (haechan <3), slight fwb dynamic, mature content (fingering, blowjob, deep throat, a tiny suggestion of masturbation, unsurprisingly a mention of big dick!soobin) tagging: @once27, @pageriviera, @gyuzlover, @kookley77-blog, @sendhelpiloveyeonjun

[a/n]: part two here.

Y/N knew from the beginning that being shy would ruin her life. In her defence, she wasn’t a shy kid… Not at all – she had thousands of friends and was ever so bold, leading her close group if they needed that extrovert-hand. Her first teen years still thrived in her social butterfly skills. However, something changed mid to late teens, and she hid inside her shell to never see the light again…

Well, until she met Soobin during college.

They had similar personalities, all drawn to quietness, refined tastes and interests. Y/N still remembered the shock on her face when Soobin said he wasn’t joining their friends at the end-of-the-semester party, simply because he wasn’t in the mood.

Which guy in his early 20s would skip a party and be honest about the reason behind it?!

She decided, then, that he was probably worth of getting over her shyness and befriending.

And now, four years later, they were still going.

Which brought her to the current situation: Lee Donghyuck.

Handsome, extrovert and Soobin’s gamer friend.

They met at a PC Bang, and somehow, clicked. Soobin wasn’t exactly antisocial, but he was shy, reserved and more on the quiet side, so getting close to a loud guy like Donghyuck in such setting was a welcomed surprise. Y/N looked at it as a sign to get out of her shell again, too.

But wanting to do it and doing it were two different things.

[19:06] y/n: where tf r u at

[19:06] binbin🐰: well some of us have stuff to do

jk i just got in

gonna shower and meet u in 15

She couldn’t help but grin, waiting.

The door lock rang with the noise of a password being typed. Seconds later, she heard his shoes being thrown inside the shoe-rack. Then, in a heartbeat, she was met with Soobin’s tall frame. When he saw her, his face broke in a pleased smile, while he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance.

“Now, what the fuck are you doing here?” Soobin took off his jacket, dimples still in full display despite his slightly harsh tone. “Are you that impatient?”

“Beomgyu and Mimi were doing a horror movie session, so we’ll have to do ours here.” She mused uninterested, laying back on the sofa again. “When I got home, they were already there, so…”

“Alright.” He sighed, opening a bit of his button-up. “I’ll wash up and see you in a minute.”

Her attention travelled from his face to his hands, wondering why men normally looked so good undressing themselves. “I’ll be waiting.”

Because, honestly, what else she could do?

Unblocking her phone, she scrolled through TikTok for a while, trying to distract herself. Her girl friends had warned her not to do what she was about to, suggesting she downloaded Tinder and got things over with, but Y/N just preferred to die than to use dating apps… Especially when she had means to try to catch Donghyuck by natural ways.

As soon as Soobin took his seat next to her, hair still damp from the shower and smelling his usual scent of vanilla and warm hugs – if that shit ever made sense –, Y/N felt her heart racing with expectation. It was such a risqué move, but she was desperate.

Somehow, all those years without male attention (in a romantic way) and her unbearable shyness started piling out, and it just got too much.

“Fried chicken and beer.” He mused. “You think of everything, thanks.”

“It’s not me, we’ve decided it yesterday.” She shrugged. “Which one are we watching tonight? We have three options: Kimi no Na wa, good ol’ Inuyasha, and finish that borderline pornographic and weird Kakeguri. Or, and hear me out, or you could finally listen to me once and give Ao Haru Ride a chance.” Y/N tucked her hands in a praying sign.

“I listened to you with Tokyo Ghoul, but only season one was good.”

“It’s because you’re tasteless! And you didn’t even try the manga!”

“You complained about the end in both.” He chuckled.

“B-but it’s because I was there for the gore and Ayato! But Ishida-sensei turned him into a softie…”

“This coming from the girl that only watches shoujo or josei.”

“Well, it’s your loss. Yeonjunnie and I just finished season three of Shingeki no Kyojin, and he’ll assure you I my recommendations are top tier.” She crossed her arms.

“I’ll watch it if you watch Jujutsu with me.”

“Fuck off.” Y/N groaned.

Another chuckle, and his dimples made an appearance. “What’s ‘Kimi no Na wa’ about?”

“Beomgyu said it’s a movie, and it was mind-blowing. Since we have similar tastes, I put it on our list.” She handed him her phone. “But if you’re in the mood, we can always watch Shin-chan.”

Quickly reading the synopses, he shook his head. “I’ll trust you and Beomy again.”

Her smile was enough to make him not care if their choice was good or not.

Y/N had planned to introduce her problem during their anime-party, but as expected, she was so invested in the movie that it escaped her completely. By the end of the animation, she was nestled on her side of the sofa, holding back a sob, teary eyes burning with the need to weep. As the credits appeared on the screen, she looked at her best friend, and her lips quivered.

“Oh God, you too?” Her voice sounded choked.

He had a tear or two rolling down his face, eyes red and glinting. “This was…”

“So beautiful! So tragically beautiful!” She stroked his damp cheek, collecting a teardrop. “Can’t believe you really cried… Beomgyu will holler when he hears about this.”

“So don’t tell him!” He pouted. “Why are you holding back? Your eyes are teary, too.”

“You know I hate crying. However, it’s been a while since I felt so touched by a movie that I almost gave in.” She giggled shakily. “Well, that was amazing.”

“Want something sweet for comfort? I baked Nutella bread.”

“Were you planning on telling me this at some point or…?”

Grinning, Soobin got up and went to the kitchen. “Honestly, I was trying to keep it low, because I don’t want Beomgyu eating them all.” His voice was muffled by the distance. “However, I can make an exception for you.” Since Y/N disliked skinship or anything that made her look weak next to any living thing, throughout years of friendship, Soobin noticed she often used food as comfort.

“When did you bake them?”

“Yesterday.”

“Makes sense.” She chuckled, remembering Beomgyu slept at her apartment, which was on the floor above. “Did his stomping annoy you? He did it on purpose.”

“I barely noticed, I was gaming with the boys.”

Oh.

Her heart skipped a beat, tongue tingling with the unspoken question.

“What did you play? Did you win?”

“Overwatch, and yes, I did. I mean, we did.”

“Who did you play with?” She really hoped her voice was tinged with normal curiosity.

“That you’ve met? Yeonjun and Donghyuck… Beomy was out, as you know.”

“Hmm… Of course, you guys would win, my Yeonjunnie never loses!”

“He almost fucked things up, though.” Coming back with a huge plate, Soobin took his place next to her once again. “Luckily, I had his back. Here, take a bite.” He held the bread in front of her.

Steading his wrist, Y/N did as instructed, biting into the soft dough and being quickly hit by a Nutella explosion. She half-groaned, half-chuckled as the filling stained her chin. Wiping it out with her finger, she sucked the spread and moaned in delight.

“Fuck, Soobin, you get better every time!”

His adorable dimples were on display, and his eyes twinkled with satisfaction. “Right?”

There was a comfortable silence, each eating bread while the credits finished rolling.

Maybe that was the right time to ask him for the favour. Despite her best friends reasoning her not to mix business with pleasure, she just couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to. Also, if he rejected her, then she’d find something else, for sure. But, as for now, this was the best idea she came up with, and if one looked at it seriously, they’d understand it made perfect sense.

“So… I was thinking…” She started, licking her fingers clean.

“Please, don’t. It’s never good when you do!”

“Maybe when Beomgyu and I do it together, I admit, but when I do it alone…”

“And was this alone?” He cut her off, sceptical.

“Why, of course!” Y/N slapped his thigh. “Now, listen, I was thinking… About this guy… I have a crush on him, you know? And it’s been a while since it happened.”

“And?”

“And you’re friends with him... So, maybe if you could help me in this, I’ll be your slave for a week or something?! And by helping, I mean, act like a wingman and also teach me the things he likes, how to flirt with him, what to do when we finally get together, like… Intimate time and… It’d be like, for practice purpose, just so I build up enough confidence to grab his attention and ask him out.” Normally, when she was nervous, she’d start babbling nonsense. But that? That was a whole new level of nonsense. “No hard feelings if you don’t want to or anything. However, I’d really, really appreciate your guidance, because…”

“Stop! Stop!” His big hands waved next to his face, silencing her. “What the fuck are you on?!”

“I beg your pardon?” She frowned.

“Have you any idea of what came out of your mouth just now? Are you completely insane?” His eyes were wide, disbelief dripping in every word. “Y/N, I can’t j-just teach you stuff! This is something you don’t…” He paused, uncomfortable with the mere thought.

“What? If not you, then who? I don’t have a love life, Bin. I haven’t kissed a man in years!”

“I don’t know! Maybe Yeonjun? He’s sure more experienced and... H-he’s your darling dearest!”

“Are you insane?” It was her turn to ogle him as if he was an alien.

“Excuse me?”

“How can you even suggest that?!”

“Suggest what? Yeonjun?” Soobin rose to his full height, restless. “I don’t even know why we’re still on this topic; anyway, yes, he’s your favourite man on Earth, so just…”

“Precisely why he’s not even an option!” She cut him off. “How can you even suggest…!” She was baffled. “Oh my God, that’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!”

“I don’t know if I should feel offended or relieved by your proposition, then.”

“No, no, no. You’re going about this in the wrong way!” Y/N groaned. “Yeonjun and I are like siblings, kindred spirits. The mere idea of being something other than it makes me feel weird.”

“But the idea of being intimate with me doesn’t? I’m not a kindred spirit to you too?!”

“It’s different.” She huffed, hesitating.

“Different how?”

“W-well, different! Different in a way you’re not a brother to me, but a best friend.” Y/N cringed at the words as they came out, knowing they didn’t sound like a compliment… But they were!

“God, you want me to help you with some guy, but somehow, I’m not even worth kindred spirit category?! You do have a way of making people feel special, Y/N.”

“Ugh, you’re making it sound like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing, you lunatic woman!” Soobin shook his head, exasperated. “We’ll be risking our friendship, for fuck sakes! A boy and a girl can’t exactly remain friends after stuff like that.”

“Well, Yeonjunnie and I…”

“You didn’t ask Yeonjun this!”

“Well, if you don’t want to, you can just say it!”

“I just did!” He groaned, ruffling his hair again.

“Ok!” Y/N crossed her arms, pouting.

“Ok!” He mimicked her.

The silence, once comfortable, wasn’t like that anymore. She knew it could come to that result, but she really thought Soobin would say yes. Side-eyeing him, her heart clenched. They used to argue, for she was weirdly similar to Beomgyu in some ways (and he got in Soobin’s nerves often), but Y/N could never stay mad at him for too long.

“I was… It was… It was just an idea.” She relaxed her posture, offering the white flag first. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable… I was just desperate for a direction.”

Resting his head on the upholstered headboard, Soobin sighed, forcing his body to relax too. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.” He said. “Who is him, by the way?”

“D-Donghyuck.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s huge.” And he understood her crazy mind a bit more. “I can tell you what he likes, though.” He still stood firm against getting involved with her, but that much he could help.

“Can you?”

“I can’t promise it will work, but…” He shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter, I’d love to hear it!” She reached for him, tugging at his hand with a hopeful smile. “Any little thing you remember, I want to know them all.” Her thumb stroked his skin.

Upon feeling such unusual caress, Soobin looked from their joined hands to her face, lighted-up with a spark of adoration. How did it pass him that his best friend had a crush?! How could he be blind to such changes? Was he really so nonchalant towards others?

“How long has it been?”

“Pardon?”

“Your crush, how long has it been?”

“Almost two months.” It was the first time she blushed because of a real life guy in front of him, and Soobin found it unexpectedly fascinating. “Why?”

“I was wondering why I didn’t notice it before.”

“Well, I don’t exactly go around telling people about it, nor I’ve met Donghyuck enough times for you to pick up the way I become a mess near him.”

He grinned, finding that absurd. Y/N never became a mess near anyone; in fact, she rarely gave people more than three seconds of honest attention.

“You’re not gonna like this, but his favourite food at the moment is jangeo-gui.” His smile grew at her disgusted face. “Better start appreciating eels if you wanna make him happy.”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing, but urged him to keep going.

A week later

In that boring Thursday night, Beomgyu arrived with yet another huge bowl of sweets – this time, matcha and white chocolate cookies.

“It’s out of hand! Someone has to intervene!” He whined, giving it to Y/N. “It’s your favourite.”

“I’m not really into cookies, though.”

“But you love matcha and white chocolate, so wipe this out of Earth, please. I can’t stand looking at desserts anymore!” He pouted. “Soobin is so annoying! Why is he doing this to me?”

“Pretty sure you’re not his target in anything, Beomy, but go off I guess.” Mimi chuckled.

“Then why is he baking sweets non-stop?! He knows how much I like eating them.”

“Maybe he has a lot on his mind, you know he does that when he’s thinking.” His girlfriend shrugged, eyeing Y/N. “Do you have anything to do with this or is it just a coincidence?”

“Me?” Y/N widened her eyes, faux surprise laced in her tone. “Why would I?!”

“I wonder.” Mimi quipped.

“Beomgyu!” Y/N turned to her friend.

“I can’t help, sorry.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“Yeonjunnie would!”

“Of course, he’s your darling dearest! I don’t even come in second, Soobin is there.”

“That’s not true!” She pouted. “You’re Mimi’s boyfriend, I couldn’t possibly put you in first! Besides, despite obvious reasons, you’re my favourite girl friend.”

“I hate her.” Beomgyu looked at Mimi. “I truly do.”

“How can you say that when we’re literally the same person?!” Y/N’s pout grew bigger. “Well, since I’m not cared for here, I’ll go to someone who-”

“Soobin’s not home. He went out with Yeonjun.” Beomgyu cut her off.

“Where to?”

Mimi raised an eyebrow at Y/N. The fact that she didn’t know Soobin’s schedule was enough for her to suppose the eldest one did ignore everyone’s warnings and went on with her crazy plan. And by Y/N’s intentional gaze on Beomgyu (avoiding hers), Mimi didn’t even need confirmation.

“A PC Bang. Actually, I’m quite late myself.”

“Are you going there too?”

“Nah, I’m staying home.” He stood up. “Got your things, babe?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Wait, you’re leaving too?”

“Yeah, I’ll sleep there.” Mimi agreed. “Enjoy your batch of cookies and stop messing with Soobin’s head. Haera said she’ll drop by to install our cabinet, so pay attention to the doorbell.”

“Ok.” Sighing, Y/N took a cookie. “I’ll be all alone and miserable because my friends either hate me or are too busy to hang out with me.”

Beomgyu’s giggle infuriated her, and she cursed Haena and Felicia for not living in the same building. At least, if Hae really showed up, she’d have company for dinner.

It was past eleven when Y/N’s front door opened. She was tucked on the sofa, the plate with 5 matcha cookies already empty, jokingly wallowing in pity for being left out, throat tight and eyes burning with the need to cry – not for the light-hearted drama she made, but for the anime movie she watched. If she wasn’t so intended in pretending to be mad at Beomgyu, she’d text him and recommend ‘5 Centimetres per Second’. It was always gut-wrenching to deal with open endings, and by reviews, this one wouldn’t be as optimistic as Kimi no Na wa’s. At this point, one would wonder: why did she keep watching sad movies if she didn’t want to cry or feel sad?

Obviously, she wanted to challenge herself and see until when she could take it.

Before the first teardrop could break through her resolve, the electronic door-lock rang, and she sat down, surprised. Pausing the movie, Y/N searched for her phone… Haena hadn’t called, but the seven missed calls from ‘Darling dearest’ and three from ‘Binbin’ warned her beforehand.

“Yeonjunnie?!” Whoever looked at her wide grin now could never guess she was about to cry milliseconds ago. Rushing towards the man, she hugged him tightly.

“Hi, darling.” Yeonjun kissed her head. “Watcha doing? Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was watching a movie.” Y/N gestured to the living room. “Wanna come in?”

“We’re already in, but I just dropped by to see you for a bit. I’m heading home.”

“I’ll crash here, though.” Soobin stated. “Beomgyu’s sulky because we lost and he’s blaming me… I don’t want to deal with his complaints, so I’ll spend the night. Is it ok?”

“Of course.” She agreed. “Don’t you want to stay too?” Her fingers pinched Yeonjun’s arm slightly, and Soobin wondered why she was always so quick and sure in wrapping herself around their friend, but when it came to him or anyone else, Y/N was distant.

“Nah, then we won’t get an hour of sleep.” He chuckled. “You’ll talk my ears off, and Beomgyu already did it… In screaming fashion.”

She grinned. “Looks like he wanted to piss everyone off today. I’m mad at him too.”

“That’s new. What happened?”

“He said he’s not my first option, so he didn’t defend me when I needed him to.” She shrugged, scrunching her nose a bit. “You would jump down anyone’s throat for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Without hesitating.” Yeonjun agreed. “We both would, actually. And that’s why we’re better than Beomgyu, so don’t sweat it. I’m leaving.” With another kiss on her head, he pinched her cheek and moved to the door, eyeing Soobin with a raised eyebrow. “Bye, bro.”

Soobin waved, sighing. “See ya.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I’d love to have a sleepover with my darling dearest and my Binbin.” She tried one last time.

“Not tonight, darling. I really need some rest.” Yeonjun lied, going out.

Truth be told, Y/N didn’t mind it that much. Her real problem was the white elephant that still lingered in the room when she was alone with Soobin.

He ignored her for the whole week, and she didn’t blame him. Y/N ignored him too. They played safe while he listed what Donghyuck liked or not, but after the topic died, she was annoyingly embarrassed, and soon excused herself home. It was their last conversation up until now. She kept herself busy during the whole weekend, then, thanks to her job, she didn’t have much time to spare until tonight. When Beomgyu told her Soobin was out with Yeonjun, her stomach did flip in relief, for she wouldn’t have to show up in his house out of nowhere, just so their friends wouldn’t notice something definitely wasn’t right with them.

She was never shy near Soobin, and he most definitely wouldn’t pretend she didn’t exist.

But he baked non-stop, leaving her a bit guilty. In a moment of repentance, she opened Instagram and followed Hyuck. Maybe she didn’t need to bring Soobin into her messy though eventless love life. Maybe she could woo Donghyuck without his (or anyone’s) help.

Facing the floor, she took a deep breath and tried to put on her best expression.

“So… Are you hungry?”

“I had dinner at the PC Bang.” He took off his shoes, taking his pair of slippers that were there.

“Oh, I see. Then, what do you wanna do now?”

“Freshen up and skincare, maybe?” Soobin suggested.

“You already know the way.” She gestured towards the rooms. “I’ll clean this up and meet you in a second.” Taking the plate, she wondered if she should tell him about the sweets. However, Soobin was already moving, and silence kept her company.

Turning off the TV, Y/N rushed to the kitchen.

There was an unsettling feeling in her stomach. He couldn’t possibly be there just because his roommate and best friend was annoying – if so, he would’ve slept in her house almost every day. And he wouldn’t most likely show up unannounced, not after what happened to them a week ago.

Which drew her to the only conclusion left: he wanted to talk to her about that.

All the baking, the ghosting, the uneasiness… Soobin had been thinking.

The bathroom had the door opened, and Y/N caught a glimpse of him in his grey sweatpants and white shirt, already changed for bed. She rested against the doorframe, unsure of the silence, but not wanting to push any buttons before reading his mood.

“Are you not joining me?” He asked, bringing her out of her trance.

“Oh, I… Of course.” Stepping in, she took his side, watching themselves in the mirror. Soobin was tall and lean, his black hair was tossed to the back thanks to her hairband. He looked tired, which only added to her guilt. “Did you and Yeonjunnie have fun tonight?”

“Yeah, it was nice.”

“I’m glad.”

He didn’t say anything else, and Y/N felt discouraged. After brushing her teeth, she started her routine and he left, saying he’d wait her in the bedroom.

To say she took her time was an understatement. She was afraid of being alone with him and that awful atmosphere around them.

However, she couldn’t spend the night in the bathroom.

Soobin wasn’t lying on the floor like he used to. He was sitting on her desk, doing something on his phone, but as soon as she showed up, he put it down.

“You couldn’t find the mattress?” She wondered.

“I was hoping we would sleep together.”

Y/N froze.

What the actual fuck?!

“I beg your pardon?”

“I meditated about your request… About Hyuck and all,” He looked at her. “and I accept it.”

If there was one thing Choi Soobin never failed to amaze her, was in his straightforwardness. He had a really non-conflict, introspective and introverted personality… But, boy, when he decided to speak his mind… He didn’t play around. When he reached his resolve, that was it.  

“O-oh.” She was flabbergasted.

“So, how is this going to work? We’ll schedule classes?! Go with a more ‘unserious’ approach?”

God, he was…

Overwhelming, sometimes.

“I-I didn’t think much past the need to be helped.” Y/N confessed, feeling her mouth dry. “And you had declined before, so I just… Kind of ignored everything.”

The unsettledness in her stomach was annoying and embarrassing. She knew better than asking him if he was sure – he would never go back to this topic and change his mind if he wasn’t.

“Well, we need a plan, don’t we?”

“Yeah, sure.” Agreeing, her face coloured. “But I’m sorry, Bin, I know I requested it… But I’m not exactly in the mood to… You know… Get intimate tonight.”

“What?” He frowned.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re handsome and all, b-but… I think I need a bit more time to…”

His chuckle announced his dimples. “Wait, did you think I was asking to have sex with you?!”

“Y-you said ‘I was hoping we would sleep together’!” She retorted, defensive. “We never slept in the same bed, so I... Y-you just had agreed with it and I…”

“I wouldn’t be so tactless, Y/N.” He cut her off, that easy smile still on his lips. “Even if it’s not our main purpose here to woo each other, I’d be more romantic about it.”

Y/N gulped, wondering why the perspective now made her feel… Bothered.

“Ok, let’s end this conversation here. I’m turning off the lights.” She reached for the light-switch. “So fucking awkward, oh my God! What did I have in mind?” Her whisper still could be heard.

“You want to back off? I can just play cupid.” He offered.

But there was no use him playing wingman if she would still feel insecure.

“No.”

“Then lay down and try to relax. Donghyuck is pretty touchy, so you have to get used to someone invading your personal space.” Soobin took his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. “How is that you can’t leave Yeonjun alone, but when it comes to anyone else, you look uncomfortable?”

“I honestly don’t know. As far as I’m concerned, it’s always been like that.” She shrugged. “I also like it when you hug me and stuff, though you don’t do it often.” Y/N was thankful for the dark, ‘cause this way he wouldn’t catch her blushing (again).

“I thought you didn’t like it, so I held back.”

“Well, I do.” Y/N felt his body warm next to her, pulling the covers over them.

Soobin turned around, facing her profile. His hand found her arm, tracing her skin while going up and down. There was something heavily intimate about the way her breath caught, and he felt his chest tighten at the quiet sound. “Is this alright?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about the movie.” He asked, knowing some distraction would help ease her out.

“It’s an open ending like ‘Kimi no Na wa’, but from what I understood from the reviews, it doesn’t hint at happiness.” She turned to him, too, and his hand slid to her waist. “B-Bin?”

“But what is the plot? Why did you decide to watch it?” His fingers explored from her waist to her back, urging her closer. “C’mere, I wanna hug you.”

Hugging Choi Soobin was one of a mortal’s most preferred activities, she was sure. On the rare occasions they hugged, Y/N almost melted against him. He had the perfect amount of comfort, warmth and strength… And, again, he smelled so good she wanted to truly dissolve into him.

“It’s divided in three parts.” She moved, being caged by his arms. “W-what should I do now?”

“Hug me back, silly.” He chuckled, and her face was pressed against his chest, letting her feel the vibration of that cute sound. “Keep going, don’t get distracted by this.”

“Easy to say, since you like skinship!” Y/N groaned.

“You’re reading too much into it, it’s just a hug. Relax.” His big hands kept moving on her back, scratching it slightly, like her mom used to do when she was younger and had trouble sleeping.

“Fuck, I must look so pathetic right now.” She looked up, meeting his eyes.

It was dark, the city lights doing a poor job of brightening the room a bit, but Y/N could still see the gleam in those soft boba eyes of his. The blush on her face deepened, heart skipping a bit. Could it be that because it had been so long since she was in a man’s arms (that wasn’t Yeonjun), any minor interaction would have her mind running wild?! Because she felt so confused in how to behave there – should she mimic the caress? Should she rest her face next to his neck, or keep it where it was? Should she turn around and be the small spoon?

“No, you don’t.” His voice was slightly hoarse. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but I didn’t know how you’d react. It was really hard to spend anime nights feet apart.”

The confession took her by surprise. “Why is that people care so much about skinship?”

“I’m not sure, but to me, there’s some kind of next-level comfort in it.”

“You’re just touch starved.” She rolled her eyes, noticing his smile widening. Such a pity the dark shadowed his dimples! “However, I’ll admit it’s quite nice.”

“Better than Yeonjun’s?”

“Oh, know your limits.”

Now he laughed, and his body shook a little, grip tightening in reflex. Y/N swallowed the truth: hugging him had absolutely nothing to do with hugging her darling dearest… And it was scaring.

Three days later

Donghyuck offered her a beer and winked. She felt her heart clenching, forcing a smile back.

It was the fourth time she met Hyuck out of a PC Bang. Sometimes she’d join Soobin there, not to play any games he liked, but just to be out of the house a bit. Tonight, she wasn’t feeling like staying home, but didn’t want the noisy mess of the PC Bang… So, her amazing friend suggested they met for chimek after he finished his hours there.

Therefore, here she was, sat between his tall body and Yeonjun’s comforting presence, staring at the guy in front of her with heart-eyes and rosy cheeks… Thankfully, she could blame the alcohol.

“Oh, thank you.” She hoped her voice was steady.

“I saw your Stories yesterday about the Flying Yoga class.” Hyuck grinned. “Soobin aced it.”

“He did, didn’t he?!” Her face relaxed into a more natural smile.

“I still feel my crotch burning and my leg circulation being cut out.” Yeonjun laughed.

“If I was there, I’d be like Beomgyu and scream the whole time.” Donghyuck commented. “I still can’t believe he agreed to it.” The grin on his heart-shaped mouth was enough to make her gulp.

God, she wanted to kiss that man so fucking bad it was embarrassing.

“The instructor didn’t appreciate it, but it made the pain bearable because I got distracted laughing at him.” Y/N replied, not wanting to waist a second without engaging with him.

“I might’ve been the MVP, but Y/N has the best flexibility.” Soobin said, letting his hand rest on her thigh and giving her knee a pinch. “She does Pilates, you know?”

Donghyuck looked at her, interested. “Oh.”

“Do you play any sports, Hyuck?”

“A bit of football, badminton… But nothing too extreme.” He shrugged. “I invited Soobin once to join my football team, but he said he preferred not moving an inch from his bed.”

“He’s a homebody, unfortunately. I had to almost cry in order to drag him to the class.” She chuckled. “I bring him to the gym two to three times a week, but he whines all the time.”

“I might try Pilates with you if you want, sounds quieter and easier.” Soobin offered.

“Tsk, he got so cocky after the Flying Yoga episode.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

Before they could comment on anything else, the waiter brough their fried chicken. As always, a variety of flavours were ordered, so they could indulge without restriction.

Something shifted between them.

Soobin noticed it during dinner – not when Y/N begged him to ‘teach her’ to flirt and all that. His lingering touches might’ve just cracked open something inside her, or a switch had been flipped and she was now a different person… Not that he was gonna complain. He absolutely melted when he took his hand off her thigh, and not a second later, she reached out for him again, linking their arms. And throughout the rest of the night, she just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Walking back home, she remained glued to him.

“Maybe we could’ve g0ne to the club with them…”

“You want to? I can take you there.” Soobin typed his password.

“Do you?”

“Nah.”

“Then I don’t, either.”

He chuckled, letting her inside first. “You’re funny.”

“If you think about it, it’s better this way. I wouldn’t know what to do if Donghyuck flirted with someone, and I’m not exactly ready to be on his radar yet.” She took off her shoes, sighing.

“What is it that you’re so afraid off?”

“I don’t know… It’s been so long and I feel like an insecure teenage girl.”

He hummed. “Well, lucky for you I exist.”

“I swear people assume you’re shy and introverted, but are not aware of your conceited ass.”

“The fact that I prefer being left alone doesn’t mean I’m ugly.” He shrugged, smirking. “You know, these dimples made a bunch of girls cry in high school and college.”

“So I’ve been told.” Y/N pretended to be unphased. “Are you gonna game now?”

“Nope. I think we should finally decide on our plan, no?” Soobin had to hold back another chuckle, for he found it funny that she was avoiding this talk when she was the one to request his help.

“Right now?”

“I don’t see a better time. C’mon Y/N, do you want Donghyuck or not?!”

“I do, but it’s embarrassing to be this inexperienced at my age and let people know about it!”

“Don’t think like that, there’s not a right time for this… People experience love when they have to.”

Her smile was shy, but she felt so glad Soobin was in her life. Not even once he made fun of her insecurities, he was respecting her boundaries and trying to get her off her shell slowly, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Yeah, he did call her a lunatic before, but she could understand where he came from – if he was the one asking such favour, she’d react the same.

That’s why he was so right for the role.

“Thank you.”

His dimples broke in for the nth time, but it was different. This time, she felt the impulse.

“What?” Soobin frowned slightly, noticing her weird expression.

“N-nothing.” Y/N cleared her throat. “Just trying to remember if I brought back my clean pyjamas from home… Or else I’ll have to go upstairs to fetch one.”

“You did, I put it in my stuff. Let’s go, then.”

She gathered her thoughts, trying to reason with them. It made sense, albeit embarrassing. She spent the evening with Hyuck, and Soobin being the chosen one for helping her, it was only natural she’d feel some kind of magnetic force pulling her to him… They were about to discuss strategies that’d take her to Donghyuck. It was obvious she’d fantasise about kissing Soobin.

Because they would kiss each other… At some point.

Ever the gentleman, Soobin let Y/N use the bathroom first. She changed clothes, flossed, brushed her teeth and did her skincare. After that, she laid on his bed while he finished his night routine.

All the time, her mind spiralled between Hyuck’s playful smirk and a way to get it directed at her. He was such a funny guy, his aura pretty welcoming, and if Y/N didn’t spend the whole evening drooling over him, she’d notice how easy it would be to become friends with him – and then, she’d could try being something more. However, she’d just have to get rid of her shyness first. Nothing would work if she kept in her shell, insecure and afraid of letting her true self come out again.

“A penny for your thoughts.” Soobin wondered, slipping in the bed too.

Y/N shuffled to the wall, giving him some room. “How do I stop being shy?”

“Uh… If I knew, I probably wouldn’t be shy myself.” He grinned at her bored face. “But I think you either are born like that, or you get there through trauma.”

“I was born like that… But something happened and I withdraw completely… I can’t remember what, though.” She sighed. “Do you think Hyuck would mind if I’m quieter in the beginning?”

“I think he’d like someone calmer than him, yeah.” Soobin mused. “So, our plan…?”

She groaned, turning to face him. “What do guys like? How does one tickle their interest?”

“Hmm… It’s different for each guy, but normally having a pretty face and a pretty body do the trick.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing she was getting annoyed. “But I know you already know this… So, we can try to find out if he thinks you’re pretty.”

“How?”

“Do you guys follow each other on Instagram?”

“Yeah, I followed him first.”

“It doesn’t matter. Did he like a picture or something?”

“The last posted.”

“Nice.” Then he frowned. “Fuck, Y/N, your last picture posted is from two years ago!”

“Well, yeah, but…” She pouted. “You know I’m not into Instagram!”

“You’re going to have to be more active, though. At least in the start, just so you keep fresh on his mind. Like, every time he opens the app, there you are.” Soobin smiled. “Do you have Tinder?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Well, maybe if you matched on Tinder, you could crack a joke or something… It can be a good topic. He might like a girl that jokes around like he does.”

She sighed, seeing his point. “But what if he isn’t there? What if–”

“He is there.” Soobin stated. “Now, we just need to know if you’d match. Where’s your phone? Let’s set your profile up right away.”

“You’re enjoying this now, aren’t you?” Y/N gave up resisting, touching the mattress, searching for the device. He giggled cutely when her fingers pinched his waist, and she couldn’t help but smile at him too. “Here, you were laying on it.”

She let him do everything, snuggling closer and breathing his sweet cologne, answering his questions whenever needed. Being this close to him was a whole new state of cosiness, and she was actually living for it. Yes, he was bony and thinner than she actually enjoyed, but Soobin was warm and soothing in a way that didn’t match his body.

He even decided on her profile picture, mumbling quietly that she looked pretty.

“Tomorrow we’ll continue this, ok?” Blocking her phone, he put it on the bedside table. “So, apart from Tinder and Instagram, what else?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one guiding?”

“Not like that, silly. I mean, what else are you insecure about? What do you think you’ll need me?”

“You already told me some of his preferences, so I feel confident enough to start a conversation… Well, if I stop drooling over him whenever he’s near.” She chuckled. “But… Bin, what do people do in a date? I’ve never been to one, you know.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Never ever?”

“Are you deaf?”

“Sorry, I’m just surprised. Why not?! Not even when you were in high school?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly give boys many signs I wanted to be asked in one.” She shrugged.

“Wow… I feel… Weird about this information?” He frowned. “So maybe we should focus on that, no? Like… How about we go on a fake date? I’ll try to find out what type of date Donghyuck usually goes and we mimic them, so it’ll be easier for you.”

“You’re the best, Bin.” Y/N pinched his arm, appreciating the effort.

“I know.”

A week later

A fucking amusement park.

Yeah, she probably should’ve seen it coming.

Not that she was upset by Donghyuck’s/Soobin’s choice… Maybe a first date wasn’t exactly supposed to be romantic at all, for people didn’t know if they’d click or not.

Everland was a good place, there were nice rides, sightseeing in a cute zoo and great food. Keeping it a secret from their friends, so they could come alone, both left home early – also planning to avoid the huge crowd for as long as possible, and to enjoy the day to the fullest.

As soon as they entered, Soobin suggested they bought a souvenir, so they could get into their couple persona. He chose a red panda hat, and she ended up with a normal panda one.

“What do you want to do first? See the animals, go for the rides or eat something?”

“We ate not an hour ago, Bin. Let’s see the animals, then we go for the best part.” She grinned. “I want to ride the Seater Human Sky for Zootopia. Can we?”

“Of course.” He searched for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I’m sure Hyuck will touch you without hesitating, so I’m trying to behave like he probably will.” Not that he needed to explain himself, but he did anyway. “Let me buy these, and then we’re good to go.”

“Oh, alright.” Y/N gave him her hat. If he wanted to pay, she wouldn’t dodge out of politeness. This was a fake date, ok, but she should act like she would in a real one.

They visited all animals, spending almost the whole morning on it. Lots of pictures were taken, and although Y/N was used to talk a lot, she kept relatively quiet. Sometimes, they would look at each other and laugh, because it was funny to keep asking those first-base questions while already knowing the answers… And every time his dimples showed up or his huge hand touched her, she was reminded that it was her best friend there, not Donghyuck.

And, at some point, she messed up.

Maybe after they finished their tour in American Adventure and went for lunch… Or during the T-Express ride, for rollercoasters always lifted their spirits (and they were still high from the Rolling X-Train experience)… The way he was beaming with satisfaction made her stomach churn.

With the sunset colouring the skies, they left the park with an unsettling feeling.

The trip home was silent, with Soobin falling asleep as soon as the bus took off, and Y/N listening to her playlist, looking at the photos they took throughout the day and erasing those that were blurred or snapped by mistake. She sent one of Fu Bao to Yeonjun, knowing how much he loved the panda. Then, amidst cute animals, she found a video of Soobin’s side profile. He had his dimples on full display, and his… Cocky smile too?

Y/N could hear herself talking behind the camera, but she couldn’t make up the words, too startled by the realisation that he was really handsome. Closing the gallery app, she sighed and tried to get some rest too. There was no point in entertaining such thoughts.

Less than an hour later, they were walking back to their building. Soobin said he’d drop her off, like a gentleman would obviously do, and kept his hand on hers the whole two-blocks distance.

“Will you go up too?” She wondered.

“It’ll be too forward for a first date, won’t it?”

“Well, I don’t know? You do live here, after all.”

“But Donghyuck doesn’t.”

Donghyuck… Yeah, of course.

“Right.” She cleared her throat. “Then, goodbye. I had a lovely and funny time today.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled softly. “We should do it again.”

“I’d love that.” Y/N got on the tip of her feet. “Goodnight, Bin. I m-mean, Hyuck.” She kissed his cheek (more like his jawline) and almost ran towards the building entrance.

Pressing her floor number while trying to conceal her exaggerated and annoying heartbeat, any idea of peace vanished as Soobin’s tall frame occupied the other side of the elevator.

“I do live here, after all.” His voice was light, tinted with mirth.

There it was again, the slightly cocky, patronising smirk.

She looked at the ground, confused by her own reaction. They kept silent except for the usual ‘Goodbye’ when he arrived at his floor first.

Typing her password, Y/N entered her house feeling dizzy.

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong and she only had her celibacy to blame! Taking off her shoes, she sat down on the hall, ruffling her hair and groaning in exasperation. However, before she could give in to a tantrum, the doorbell rang. Confused, she opened it without checking. Her closest friends knew the password, but maybe…

Barely registering the black hair and known warmth, Y/N was pressed against the wall, Soobin towering over her, bringing her jaw up and smashing his mouth against hers.

Her body froze, mind going blank at the unexpected touch.

She remained unresponsive for a second or two, trying to overcome the initial shock. It was enough for him to back off, misunderstanding her lack of reaction. He was still a breath away, though, his nose bumping into hers as he looked her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don-”

She cut the distance, kissing him again. Really doing it now.

Her arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer, moaning at the way his fingers tugged on her hair, tilting her face up. His tongue took advantage of her open mouth, slipping inside and starting its conquest. Y/N felt putty in his embrace, puzzled and consumed by the caress. She thought that those years of being romance-deprived would have turned her into an inexperienced girl once again, but it didn’t look like that.

She knew what to do, and her body seemed to understand it as well.

And even if she didn’t, it was clear Soobin did.

Shivering at the reminding of her kissing her best friend, something burned inside her. She felt bolder, nails scratching his nape and mingling with the soft strands of his hair. He groaned like a defeated warrior, pressing her harder between the wall and his body.

The whole fire made a known path, and Y/N snapped back into reality.

“Bin-?!” She pushed him away, gasping for air at the same time.

He looked at her through heavy lids, the light in the hall being enough to let her see his dark eyes gleaming with a mixture of emotions she also felt. Nevertheless, all that seemed to be swept aside when he blinked, a controlled and neutral expression taking over.

“Donghyuck would kiss you after the first date. I’m sure he would.”

And just like that, Soobin killed the spark.

The first contact after the events of the other night was awkward.

Upon feeling his hands on her, for their usual hug as a greeting, her voice cracked and her heart raced, the heat of embarrassment creeping up her spine. When their eyes met, her breath caught, remembering the way he looked at her seconds before shoving her right back in reality.

‘Donghyuck would kiss you after the first date. I’m sure he would.’

She was mad at herself for being mad at Soobin for saying that. Wasn’t finally being with Hyuck the sole purpose of all that?! Why was she a bit depressed he kissed her with that in mind?!

Was she so affection starved that she would start fantasising about Soobin now?

Pathetic.

“‘Seeing Fu Bao without my darling dearest to assert dominance.’” Yeonjun scoffed, showing her his phone – opened on her IG Story.

“She’s my rival, I had to.” Y/N shrugged. She had just posted one of Fu Bao’s videos from the date, because Soobin requested her to be more active on her social media. She’d added Hyuck on her Close Friends, hoping it would be a good hint of her true intentions.

“Your rival?” Yeonjun frowned.

“You love her a lot… It bothers me.”

“You love Soobin a lot and I don’t consider him my rival.”

“It’s different!”

“Why?”

“I don’t love him like I love you.” Y/N pouted.

“She’s so open about her favouritism.” Haena chuckled. “Sorry, Soobs.”

“I’ve been warned about this before, so I’m kinda numb to the pain.” Soobin jested. “It’s not nice losing to him, but I can manage being second.” He eyed Beomgyu. “At least I’m not third.”

“Well, I have a girlfriend and Y/N respects the fact my girlfriend is my favourite always!” Gyu retorted, a hand on his heart as if he felt offended. “And she can’t make me her favourite, either.”

“But you’re not the second, Bin!” Y/N pleaded, feeling her stomach sink a bit. “You’re…”

“Your best friend, Yeonjun’s your brother. Yeah, I know.” He commented, pouring himself some beer. “You told me that already.” On the day she asked him for that absurd favour… He was glad she seemed a bit ashamed of being biased, at least.

Y/N gulped, going quiet too soon. Normally, she’d argue, trying to make her point. Right now, though, she didn’t have the energy nor the facts to fight him.

Because things have changed.

More than ever, she was so painfully aware that what she felt for Yeonjun had nothing to do with what she felt for Soobin. She couldn’t even fathom doing more than some specific skinship with Yeonjun without feeling like committing incest… Whereas with Soobin, her mind entertained some different thoughts altogether – as outrageous as they should be.

It only took one kiss, and all the platonic, ‘academic research’ notion she had of Soobin crumbled.

She really believed she’d be immune to whatever happened between them, because Donghyuck was exactly what she wanted… However, she didn’t consider the impact of her celibacy. Y/N was painfully starved for attention and intimacy, and Soobin made her aware of that.

The sooner she got a grip of herself, the better.

That’s why she was there, pretending nothing had happened.

The second contact after the events of the other night was slightly better.

Soobin texted her saying he’d game with the boys, and asked if she wanted to join. Twenty minutes later, Y/N was lying on his bed, reading, while he played.

“What are we having for dinner?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I’ve no idea. What do you suggest?” He frowned. “No, not you. I’m talking to Y/N.” Soobin murmured to his headset. “Yeah, she’s here.”

Sitting on his bed, she stared at his computer screen as if he was on a videocall. “Who is it?”

“Hyuck says hi, Yeonjun is apologising for ignoring you on your chat.”

“I see.” She smiled. “Tell him I’m never talking to him again, and tell Hyuck I said hi back.”

“She’s not talking to you ever again, dude. And she said hi, Donghyuck.”

“Anyway, I’m thinking hot pot thoughts… Or sweet and sour pork.” Y/N suggested.

“Why not both?” He chuckled, listening to his friends on the call. “Yeonjun said you can’t spend more than thirty minutes ignoring him, so he’s not feeling exactly threatened.”

She sucked a breath, pretending to be offended. Crawling to the end of the bed, behind his chair, she turned him around and tugged at the headset, bringing the microphone closer to her mouth. “Is this a challenge, Yeonjun? Because I’d love to prove you wrong!”

“Wow, she said ‘Yeonjun’!” Beomgyu hollered, and she could hear his voice from his room.

“I’d feel pretty much threatened right now, bro.” Soobin stared at her, taking in the small distance between them. Their noses were centimetres away, breaths fanning over each other. His eyelids dropped as he tilted his head just a bit, unconsciously giving into her magnetic field.

As if electrified, Y/N stepped back. “B-both, then.” She cleared her throat. “Gonna order it.”

The third time, she met him at the entrance hall, after coming back from the gym. He was getting out of the lift and she was entering it – they collided, her sweaty head bumping into his chest.

“Fuck, sorry.” Y/N petted the moist spot, as if it’d disappear.

“Morning.” He smiled. “It’s ok, it’ll dry in no time.”

“Are you going to work?”

“Nah, going to grab something for breakfast… Wanna join me?”

Y/N wanted to melt on the floor, glad for the atmosphere between them not being awkward anymore. “Of course, if you don’t mind the stink.”

“I don’t.” He took her hand. “Morning.”

It was her time to grin, intertwining their fingers. “Morning, Binbin.”

The first tray of brownies was just out of the oven when Beomgyu walked into the kitchen.

“Am I going to have to eat all of it?” He pointed at the hot tray.

“Uh… No?”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Dude, it’s been a week since you went back on your cooking therapy.”

Yeah, and it’d been a little over a week since he kissed Y/N.

It’d been over a week since they seemed to go back and forth on walking in eggshells. And he knew she was having some kind of mental breakdown due to that, ‘cause was he too.

Not that kissing her wasn’t riveting. It had been a while since he kissed a girl, and his body just reacted to that. He was intrigued by his own response. However, he was already regretting giving in to her schemes… Because he could foresee the imminent rupture in their friendship, could taste the awkwardness that was settling between them.

And yeah, maybe Beomgyu was right – he was freaking out.

He was panicking at the mere thought of losing his best friend.

“I just enjoy cooking, what is wrong with that?” Soobin knew he sounded defensive, but he wasn’t able to come up with a better rebut.

“Ok, keep telling yourself that.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes. “Is Y/N coming down? ‘Cause I’m coming up, Mimi and I will go to the arcade tonight.”

“Why would she come down?”

“Well, aren’t you guys working on getting her into Hyuck’s pants?”

Soobin froze. “What the f…”

“You really thought you two could keep this a secret from everyone?”

“N-no, but… You could use nicer words.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, pouting. “Aren’t you guys trying to turn her into a Sex Goddess?”

“Oh God, why do I even bother?!” Soobin shook his head, glaring at the ceiling for a brief second.

“I don’t know, either.” He chuckled. “Is she coming or not?”

“No.”

“Give her a piece, at least. I’m gonna get fat at this rate!” Turning around, he waved. “See ya. I’ll probably sleep upstairs, so don’t wait for me.”

Sighing, Soobin waved back. “Alright; have fun. Bye!”

He stared at the oven for a solid minute, contemplating what to do.

Whenever he had an opportunity, he’d mention Y/N to Hyuck. Things like how funny and pretty she was, something cute she did, a tender memory he had of her… And all those times, Hyuck listened with regard. But what use would that be if she still felt insecure?! That’s why he got a grip of himself and opened their chat – they should have another lesson.

[18:43] soobin: r u busy?

Almost a minute later, she replied.

[18:44] y/n: no… why?

[18:44] soobin: i baked two trays of brownie 🥺

[18:44] y/n: choi soobin

u r literally the best thing that has ever happened to me!!!!!

see u in a second

[18:45] soobin: 😋

It was pathetic that she took some time to get ready. Normally, Y/N wouldn’t even bother changing her clothes… However, she decided to drop her old and comfy nightgown for her brand-new pyjama set, an emerald-green satin shorts and button-down shirt. It was one of her favourite colours and Soobin used to say it looked really good on her.

Cringing at the perspective of fishing for compliments, Y/N pinched her cheeks and cleared her throat, walking out of the elevator as if each step didn’t make her confused mind a bigger chaos. Typing the password, she was greeted by the delicious smell of brownies. Heading to the kitchen, she took a second to prepare herself to face him again.

“Binbin?”

He turned around from the sink, opening one of his marvellous smiles. “Hi there.”

“So… Am I getting a whole tray for myself, or will I have to share with Beomgyu?”

“A whole tray for yourself… If you help me out here.” Soobin chuckled.

“Maybe sharing isn’t that bad?” She jested. “It keeps me humble.”

“Humbleness doesn’t suit you, Y/N. You’re made to look down on us, mere mortals.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” She pretended to dry her eyes, grabbing the kitchen towel.

“The only person you think is actually above yourself is Yeonjun, and don’t even try to tell me I’m wrong.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I know you better than I know myself.”

Y/N felt her stomach dropping.

Did he?

Was it possible he knew that whenever those dimples came out, she felt… The impulse again?

And because she was so confused with her own reactions, she decided to bring up the safer topic.

“Donghyuck asked me about the leather workshop class we took, he said he liked your wallet and you told him we went there and did it together.”

“I’m trying to bring you up in any opportunity I get.” Soobin agreed. “And what else happened?”

“Nothing much, we chatted a bit about it and then he said he’d try to book a class.” She sighed. “He didn’t ask for my number, Bin. It was the perfect excuse for it! Or he could’ve just said ‘Do you want to join me on it, again?’” She pouted. “I couldn’t find him on Tinder either!”

“I know it’s frustrating, but… Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way?!” Finishing washing the last dirty dish, Soobin looked at her. “We need a party.” He declared. “Hyuck likes them, and if he sees you in a different light, with a different mood altogether, I’m sure he’ll get hooked.” By the way she hesitated, he knew exactly what was going on. “You’re insecure about it, aren’t you?”

“What if I mess it up?”

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Y/N stared at him, conflicted between playing it cool or being honest. They were best friends, for fuck sakes! She trusted him and he trusted her back – and getting him to help her was their main purpose, as he had pointed out.

“What do you have in mind, then?” She sounded so vulnerable Soobin’s heart melted.

But before he could say anything else, he needed to get some things straight. He wouldn’t survive going another week with that weird and distant vibe between them. This next lesson would be different from any other, and he needed to know she was ready to go through it.

That their friendship was ready to take the blow and don’t die from it.

“What did you feel when I kissed you?”

She froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“That day when we went on a date… When I kissed you like Donghyuck would, what did you feel after?” His eyes searched for hers, but she shied away, staring at the towel on her hand.

“I… Well… I noticed that I’m really desperate.” Y/N cleared her throat, hating the way she felt so small and embarrassed at her own neediness.

“Desperate for what?”

“Intimacy. Anything a man can give me.” The words came out rushed. “And it’s so annoying.”

He frowned at her confession. He expected her to say something along the lines like ‘desperate for Donghyuck’, but she didn’t. “Why is it annoying, though? It’s normal to want to be wanted.”

“Yes, I know, but… I feel like I missed my timing. It’s weird to never have dated at my age; and what if Donghyuck thinks there’s something wrong with me?!”

“Only stupid men think stuff like these, Y/N. Normal and nice boys know everyone has their own time to blossom and don’t rush nor judge others.”

She looked up, finding him already staring at her. His soft boba eyes shone with tenderness and resolve, as if what he said was the absolutely truth.

“You’re really a different brand of man, Choi Soobin.” She gave him a small smile. “And really one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

“You flatter me.” He chuckled. “But I asked that because I think the best way for you to feel more confident is knowing that you can entice even when being ‘inexperienced’. ‘Cause, honestly, I didn’t even remember you hadn’t kissed a man in ages when we were kissing.” He confessed. “It just downed me later on, because things were awkward between us, and I got pissed off that we let it come to that and you didn’t tell me how you felt. I don’t like us distant.”

“Me neither.” She sighed.

“So let’s promise we won’t be like that again, or else I can’t help you.”

Y/N bit her lip, hesitating again. “But what if I can’t…”

“Then we’ll end everything.” He cut her off. “I don’t read minds, Y/N. If you don’t tell me what’s bothering you, how can I be of help?!”

“Alright. I’ll try.”

“No, darling, you’ll do it.” He shook his head. “I’m not letting our friendship on thin ice anymore.”

“Oh, ok, Bin! I’ll do it.” Rolling her eyes, she stuck her pinkie up.

“Good girl.” Their fingers touched. “So no more awkwardness no matter what we do.”

“And if one feels uneasy, we got to be vocal about it.”

His eyes darkened slightly, wondering (without his own permission) about what else Y/N would be vocal about. Clearing his throat, he pointed to the brownies. “Fancy some before we move on?”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to ease me up.”

“I wanted to put caramel in, but you complained about eating too much candy recently and I know how you love caramel, so I decided to make it plain, so you won’t feel sad if you don’t eat much.”

She smiled, touched by the gesture. “Thanks.”

“Here, take a bite.” He offered a piece.

It wasn’t something unusual, they normally did this… However, this time her eyes spent a little longer analysing his hand – the pretty and veiny forearm, how the brownie looked so small compared to his palm, how close his fingertips were from her mouth… And suddenly, she could see herself in one of those luxury porn movies, where any minor action was made to entice – so, instead of taking a bite, she’d lick on his digits, sucking them as if…

Y/N almost stuffed the whole piece in her mouth, hoping its taste would erase such confusing and horrible thoughts. God, what she needed was professional help!

Soobin had a fond smile, always glad that she liked his food. “Easy there, love. You’ll get a whole batch for yourself.” Some crumbles stuck to her face, gathering on her lower lip and at the side of her mouth while she chewed. “Do you like it that much?! You got dirt all over.”

Y/N remained quiet while he dusted the crumbles off. She felt like melting under his touch and gaze, goosebumps blooming from her spine to her head. The brownie tasted good, obviously, but the sensations didn’t come from its flavour or perfectly gooey texture… Out of habit, he licked the tip of his fingers clean, and that’s when she noticed she’d been too silent.

“Sorry, you know I like sweets.”

“It’s ok. Having you acting like this strokes my ego.” The dimples showed up again as he grinned.

Her heart thumped heavily against her chest, and whatever sane thoughts she had, slipped off her mind when she got on her tiptoes and ended the distance between them.

She kissed him.

She was still kissing him.

And when his arm circled her waist, pulling her up against the kitchen counter, she wished she’d never stop kissing him at all. The hand on her face slid to her nape, fingers threading in her hair and tugging it slightly, pushing her chin up so they could change the angle. As they got closer, his hips came in between her legs, the arm around her waist slipped a bit under her pyjama shirt, and the feeling of his skin against hers was overwhelming.

It was also embarrassing, honestly.

They were still dressed, but she felt so warm, so desperate for more contact, more action…

Then, as if reading her mind, Soobin bit her lower lip while pressing his crotch against hers. That earned him a bittersweet response: she froze, hands gripping his shoulders and eyes widening.

“What happened?” He asked, mouth still on her.

“I-If we keep… We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But isn’t stuff like this the reason you need my help?”

He was right, of course.

“I’m not sure how to… What should I…?”

“Maybe you could circle me with your legs?” He suggested. “If I was Donghyuck, what would do?”

She gulped, musing. “I’d probably jump his bones.”

“Then jump mine.” He stated. “Pretend I’m him.”

Her eyes clouded, conflicted between obeying or trying to resist. “Here? At the kitchen?”

“We’re alone, relax.” At her intake of breath, he chuckled. “Try to, at least.”

“But won’t it be too uncomfortable?”

His grin grew bigger. “Y/N, you think too much.” He pecked her lips. “Stop thinking, just… Just feel.” His mouth touched her jawline, and she immediately closed her eyes. Soobin nibbled on her skin, leaving love bites on the column of her neck. It was impulsive, not really him wanting to mark his territory, but just… Him reacting to the moment. He quietly undid some buttons of her shirt, but before pushing it off, he needed to know if it was still ok. “Are you ok?”

Y/N was half in heaven, half in hell. “Yes… It’s so warm in here, isn’t it?”

“So can I take this off?” He touched the last button.

“Yes.” Their eyes met, and she hoped he could see the trust in hers.

Tossing the satin on the floor, Soobin’s attention flew to her chest. She was wearing one of her cotton bras, black and plain, but somehow… “You look so pretty in green, but now I realise you look better in black.” He murmured, kissing her cleavage. Her head fell back, a sharp breath that sounded more like a strangled moan coming out of her mouth. Her legs tightened around his body, silently telling him he was doing it right. “Shall I take this off too?” He traced the straps.

“Please.”

It’s been ages since a man had seen her naked, but somehow, the fact that it was Soobin put her at ease. Yes, she might’ve been feeling insecure, however, as they kissed, her neediness surpassed every other emotion… And it was Soobin, for fuck sakes! He was her best friend!

He unfastened her bra and let it loose. Discarding it too, he noticed his mouth watered a bit at the sight of her perk nipples – it was only natural that his big hands groped her boobs, slender and skilled fingers pinching the skin before he dipped his head down, taking one in his mouth.

The moan came out loud and clear, Y/N’s body jolting forward at the sensation. She felt his wet tongue around the beak, licking and sucking on it, his warm touch engulfing her from her waist to her ribs, then to her shoulders, fingertips burning figures everywhere they reached. And it was too much. Pulling at his hair, she brought their lips together once again, needing him, desperate for him. Her hips pressed strongly against his, humping him.

“Bin,” The nickname rolled out with ease, despite the fact she was supposed to imagine Donghyuck there. “Bin, I need more.” Her voice was muffled by open-mouthed kisses. “Please. More.”

And because he was such a gentleman, he couldn’t say no.

He actually didn’t want to.

“More of what? You gotta use your words, love. I want to help you, but I don’t know how.” He lied, touching her boobs again, loving how they felt under his palms.

“Fuck.” She kissed his jawline, legs so tight around his hips that he couldn’t escape her grip. “If we keep doing this, I’ll probably cum.” She tried to reason.

“Do you want to?”

“Desperately.”

His smirk was out of this world. He had that easy, roguish kind of smile, and Y/N felt her insides twirling at the sight. “How?” Although he was supposed to guide her in this, he wanted so bad to hear her desires. Soobin was sure he’d do anything she wanted as long as she kept that flushed expression and cute moans coming out. “Tell me how.” It was almost a plea.

“I-I’m not…” Well, he really was there to help her, so she shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for what she wanted. “I need your fingers.”

His breath hitched slightly, ears buzzing with every word echoing in his mind.

“My fingers? Where, love?” He knew he wasn’t pushing her too far. If she only could step outside her comfort zone a centimetre more…

And when she reached for him, taking one of his hands and sliding it down her belly towards her pussy, Soobin hoped he wouldn’t forget a second of that dizzy, surprising night.

“Here.” Her voice was breathy, laced with wanton and shyness. “Inside me.”

Oh, fuck.

Kissing her again, he rubbed her thighs, prying them open and unlocking them off his waist. He kept his touch pretty close to her crotch, but never coming too close to where she wanted.

“I’ll take off your shorts now, ok?”

She shivered slightly while he rolled the green satin off her hips. When the fabric was discarded, he analysed her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and Soobin licked his lips, anticipating.

“No panties?”

“I only use them with pyjamas when I’m on my period.” She confessed.

His eyes widened, realisation kicking in. “So whenever we slept together, you were…”

“Pantie-less.” She agreed, blush intensifying.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned, dick twitching at the thought. “So cheeky.”

“It’s healthy to let it breath!” She pouted, defensive.

“I’m not judging, though.” Soobin stole a peck. “I’m just surprised because I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Now I do, yeah.”

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t describe what he saw in hers. However, it was enough to make him react hungrily, latching his mouth on hers once more, a hand slipping between their bodies, resting right on her pretty cunt. She moaned into the kiss as soon as his fingers caressed her, pads gathering some slick before finding purchase on her clit.

It was rather embarrassing, but just the feeling of him there was enough to make her cum.

She felt so overwhelmed and horny she was sure if she stood up, a puddle would be where she sat, but the way Soobin worked her up was so good, she couldn’t help herself. And it’d been so long…

It was impossible to keep her focus, the pleasure so foreign and delicious – thus, she just rested her forehead against his, locking their eyes and basking in those amazing sensations. His hand drove slightly down again, coating in her wetness before plugging a finger inside her without warning. Her breath hitched, lips parting for a whiny moan to escape. His brown orbs, once gentle and patient, now ogled her with hunger and desire. He moved, testing the speed until he got a loud sob from her, hips bucking slightly as he drove in and off.

“Fuck.” She whispered when he quickly pushed a second digit inside her.

“Tell me how you like it,” Soobin ordered. “how to make you cum.”

“Anything,” Y/N closed her eyes, wondering if it would be ultimate humiliation if she drooled any time soon. “anything you do, I’m sure I’ll like it.”

“You’ve got no idea of what I…” He stopped, deciding she wasn’t ready for those words yet.

She gulped as he picked his pace. “Fuck, this feels so good!”

“Look at me.” His dominating aura was new to her.

She stared at those chestnut pools, darkened with a pinch of wildness, curiosity and lust. She’d never seen him like that, demanding, serious but at ease with himself, full of confidence and… So fucking hot. There was also the situation they were in, the unexpectedness of enjoying his touch, the thrill of doing something they probably shouldn’t be doing, the happiness of finally having a man’s attention for her own – she couldn’t control herself, clenching around his fingers.

“Shit,” Y/N threw her head backwards, back arching. “I’m gonna cum?”

“Is this a question?” He chuckled, amused.

“I’m not sure?” Her brows furrowed. “I’m almost…” He inserted a third digit. “There.”

“Already?” His dimples accompanied his smirk, and her heart beat faster. “So desperate, Y/N. You look gorgeous like this.” He cooed. “Keep looking at me and cum, then.”

Obeying was easy. Y/N was so out of herself with wanton it didn’t take more than a minute for her to explode around his fingers, moaning quietly and leaving small scratches on his nape and shoulders. Soobin peppered her neck with love bites while she rode her high, relishing the way she shook on his arms and snugged him close.

She tugged at his hair after calming down, pushing his chin up and getting nose to nose. It could be the post-orgasm haze, but she had the urge to say some crazy and cheesy things. Instead, she bit her lips, wondering what she should do next.

“Do I… S-should… Can I… Can I suck you off?”

And because she sounded vulnerable, he pushed past his own needs and tried to make her feel safe again. “I don’t know. Can you?” His eyes shone with mirth, the joke outdated and a bit annoying.

Her mouth tugged in a small smile. “May I?”

He wanted nothing more, but it seemed too much for her in one day, so he shook his head. “No, love. I think it’s best we go slow.”

“W-wait, why?!” She looked disappointed. “Don’t you… Want me to?”

“I do, love, I really do. But this is not about me.” He sighed. “This is about showing you that you can seduce any guy you want, doesn’t matter if you think yourself unexperienced or not… And judging by my pants now, I’m sure we can say you passed the lesson.”

Mentioning his pants wasn’t his best idea, because her eyes fell to his sweatpants and lingered there, glossy, hungry. He felt something clench around him and realised his fingers were still inside her. Blushing a bit, Soobin took them off, musing if it would be too extreme to lick them. However, he was trying to avoid getting hornier, so maybe…

Before he could react, the oven beeped, warning them that the last tray of brownies was done.

If one year early someone told her she’d dream about her best friend’s dick, Y/N would die of laughter. Now, sweaty and frustrated, she woke up for the second time in two days ten minutes before her alarm set off… Thanks to a wet dream.

With Choi Soobin.

It was upsetting, really. She couldn’t stop thinking about it – couldn’t stop wishing he had let her help him too. Because his kisses and his fingers had made her feel so good, so it was only natural to want to return the kindness… Although, a tiny bit of her was thankful he set boundaries, for she wasn’t sure she could handle what would’ve happened. The way he said she left him with a hard on was enough to make her mouth dry, heart skipping a beat in some sort of… Elation. She felt proud, desired… Feminine. And it had been ages since she last felt such emotions.

It was dangerous.

Choi Soobin was dangerous, and she should thread him carefully.

She went to the gym, wasting her energy on the weights and cardio. Maybe if she got too tired, her body would finally let go of that ridiculous desperation towards her best friend. The mere thought of having his hands on her again, of having her hands on him too… She almost tripped on her feet while leaving the gym. Chuckling at her own embarrassment, she started walking back home.

Then, her phone chimed with a notification.

Breathing slowly, Y/N unblocked it.

[08:12]  🖤 💓 darling dearest 💓 🖤: good morning, darling

wanna grab breakfast?

im near ur house

[o8:12] y/n: good morning, my better half

i literally just left the gym dskflfksdkljsd

and im FAMISHED

as always, u read my mind

[08:12]  🖤 💓 darling dearest 💓 🖤: meet u at that bakery around the corner?

[o8:12] y/n: sureeee

With a satisfied smile, she was glad for finally spending quality time with Yeonjun. Since the whole ‘Trying to date Donghyuck’ thing, Y/N kind of prioritised Soobin’s company…

Now, she had a chance to be herself again.

The bakery they usually went when Yeonjun was with her was quite empty when she arrived. Getting a table near the big windows, she discarded her jacked and sat down, relaxing. Checking her e-mails, she quickly answered two urgent ones – which meant she could come to work a bit late, ‘cause her online meeting at 10am was cancelled.  

Soon, arms circled her neck and she heard the smack on the top of her head.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hello, dearest.” Y/N grinned. “Don’t kiss me when I’m sweaty, it’s gross!”

“I don’t mind it.” He chuckled, sitting in front of her. “Did you order something already?”

“Nah, I was waiting for you. What do you want?”

“Hmm… Coffee and something sweet. You?”

“Tea and something sweet.” She winked. “I’ll need scrambled eggs, though.”

“Milk tea?”

“You know me too well.”

However, instead of smiling back at her, Yeonjun frowned. “What’s this?” He pointed to the side of her neck, then down her collarbones that showed up a bit on her gym clothes.

“What?” Y/N tried to see what grabbed his attention.

“Is… It’s a fucking hickey?!” His mouth opened in pure shock, then stretched in a wide smirk. “Well, darling, you’re keeping secrets now?”

“N-no! It’s not like that!” She shushed him, flushing. “This is nothing.”

“Oh, really? Because all these years we’ve known each other, it’s the first time I’ve seen you with a hickey, so pardon me for not eating up your bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Soobin told me already.”

“Of course he did.” Y/N gritted her teeth.

“I mean, everyone kinda know there’s something going on. You guys aren’t exactly subtle.” Yeonjun chuckled, moving over the table to pinch her cheek. “Cuties.”

“There’s nothing going on! He’s just helping me out with…” Under his soft gaze, she hesitated.

“Is it still that excuse?”

God, she loved Yeonjun with all her heart, but sometimes… Sometimes he just really pissed her off. It was a rare occurrence, but when it happened, Y/N wanted to punch him right in the face.

“What excuse? He’s really helping me with Donghyuck.”

“I see.”

“You don’t believe me.” She pouted.

“I literally said ‘I see’!”

“You used your condescending tone.”

“It’s just because I don’t understand how him giving you hickies is gonna help with Hyuck, but don’t mind me.” He raised his hands in surrender. “So, how’s the conquest going?”

“Uh… Good. I mean, kinda good. We’re gonna try a new approach in a different ambient.” She sighed, not sure if she could voice out what happened two nights ago. “In a party, to be precise.”

“Oh, and why’s that? No, wait, let me order our food and you tell me everything.”

She smiled tenderly at him, the annoyance vanishing quickly. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He chuckled, standing up. “As you should.”

“Prick.”

“I love you too, my favourite drama queen.”

“Milk tea and the fudgiest chocolate muffin, please. Don’t forget the scrambled eggs!”

“Noted. I’ll be back in a second.”

Y/N stared at the street, trying not to let Yeonjun’s words worsen her confusion.

Working as a translator gave Y/N the advantage of flexible hours and working from home. What once felt like a benefit, now didn’t. She went about half a chapter before giving up. There was no use, her head just wouldn’t focus enough.

Opening the group chat with only her girl friends, she invited everyone for dinner. She needed some time away from Soobin, and needed some purely feminine company.

It was past eight when Felicia arrived. She was the last one, so they could finally declare that the night officially started – good wine, a huge charcuterie board, cheese and chocolate fondue… And…

Well, Soobin’s brownies.

Y/N made sure not to linger on that thought, not to let the memory of how she got them cloud her senses (again), because it went against the mood she had planned for the night.

And it would’ve worked if said boy could read her mind. Unfortunately, he couldn’t – for her phone vibrated and indicated a text message from him.

[21:12] binbin🐰: so u had breakfast with yeonjun…….

AND invited the girls over WITHOUT us

(gyu and i)

[21:12] y/n: yeah, i did. why?

[21:12] binbin🐰: why do u hate me? 🥺

(us*, gyu is also pouty)

[21:12] y/n: where does this come from????

r u unwell?????

[21:12] binbin🐰: u havent talked to me the whole day

cant i miss my best friend?

[21:12] y/n: ofc u can

but u r never clingy

so i got concerned

[21:12] binbin🐰: well, im clingy now

[21:13] y/n: oh

[21:13] binbin🐰: yeah

[21:13] y/n: id invite u but tonight’s strictly girls night

[21:13] binbin🐰: come over later

[21:13] y/n: cant

[21:13] binbin🐰: 😨

why??????

[21:13] y/n: idk when they’ll leave

[21:13] binbin🐰: idc

come anyway

She blocked her phone, feeling her stomach tightening.

“Well, that’s… Sweet, I guess?” Mimi murmured, staring at her.

“Were you reading everything?!”

“I couldn’t help but read.”

Y/N opened her mouth, torn between being offended or asking Mimi what ‘sweet’ actually meant. Obviously, seeing Soobin that night wasn’t a smart move.

“So, how’s the ‘Donghyuck’s Annihilation’ going?” Felicia questioned, bringing her back to reality.

“What kind of title is this?” She giggled.

“It’s more dramatic, which suits you.” Fel shrugged. “So…?”

“How’s ‘Soobin’s classes’ going, you mean.” Haena quipped.

“I’ll let you know Donghyuck and I sometimes talk to each other through DM’s, and I’ve been more comfortable around him, so it’s going pretty well.” Y/N cleared her throat, feigning indifference.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Felicia smiled. “Feeling comfortable around him is important.”

“Soobin thinks we should meet at a party, ‘cause the change of atmosphere might be good and might make Hyuck look at me differently.”

“Hmm… Makes sense.” Haena agreed. “But what about your shyness? Would you be ok with kissing him and even sleeping together?”

A quick flashback of what happened at Soobin’s kitchen made Y/N blush, but she played it cool. “Yeah, I think I’d be fine. Maybe I’d pass out from nervousness, but I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Haena stared at her for a second or two, sipping her wine. “Then I’m glad you decided not to listen to us and pursue your crazy plan with Soobin’s help.”

“Can we stop talking about this? Yeonjun also interrogated me today and I really wanted to have a night-off.” Y/N pouted. “Why don’t you girls talk about your love lives, for a change?”

“The biggest change here is you getting out of your shell, but ok.” Felicia pointed out, grinning.

“Ya’ll not ready for my girlfriend era.” She chuckled.

Matter of fact, Y/N wasn’t exactly ready for that herself.

Around midnight, she finally laid down, skincare routine done and warm bedsheets. Plugging her phone on the charger, she sighed and opened her chats. It was a new day, so she didn’t need to pretend not to think about Soobin and Donghyuck again.

[00:09] y/n: asleep?

It took her some minutes to get a reply.

[00:12] binbin🐰: im not talking to u

[00:12] y/n: why’s that?

[00:12] binbin🐰: u didnt come

[00:12] y/n: the girls left and i had to clean up the mess

[00:12] binbin🐰: u can come now then 😤

She pondered for a second, but the alcohol made her reckless – or she wanted to believe so.

[00:12] y/n: can i, sir?

how?

Soobin typed and erased a few times before replying.

[00:14] binbin🐰: ???

what the fuck do u mean

r we talking abt the same thing???

[00:14] y/n: probably not

[00:14] binbin🐰: im talking abt u coming downstairs

[00:14] y/n: im talking abt what happened the other night

Another pause.

[00:16] binbin🐰: y/n

[00:16] y/n: soobin

[00:16] binbin🐰: lets keep this convo PG

[00:16] y/n: i dont want to

[00:16] binbin🐰: why not?

[00:16] y/n: ‘cause im slightly tipsy and super frustrated and angry

u didnt let me suck u off and now im one step behind

what if hyuck wants me to suck him off?????

[00:16] binbin🐰: then u suck him off

[00:16] y/n: what if im not good at it?

[00:16] binbin🐰: bullshit

[00:16] y/n: how do u know

[00:17] binbin🐰: i just do

[00:17] y/n: how

[00:17] binbin🐰: u gonna have to trust me in this

[00:17] y/n: nope 😌

[00:17] binbin🐰: would i ever lie to u? no

so stop worrying and go to sleep

[00:17] y/n: im not worrying

im frustrated and angry

ill spend the whole night watching blowjob videos and taking tips

bc u didnt help me like u promised!!!!!

She was sure she crossed a line that wasn’t supposed to be crossed, but it was too late.

[00:18] binbin🐰: stop being a brat for once in ur life

i mean it

[00:18] y/n:  😌 nope 😌

The vibration caught her by surprise. ‘Binbin’ lighted up her screen like some kind of hypnosis.

“Don’t.” His voice cut the silence.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t watch porn, it’s not helpful at all.”

“It might be more helpful than you at the moment.”

He sucked in a breath the same way he did whenever Beomgyu got on his nerves. “How much did you drink? You’re not easily intoxicated, so stop with the attitude.”

“I drank enough to be bold and ask for it… Again.”

There was a tiny silence, then a sigh. “Tomorrow. When you’re fully sober.”

Tomorrow, it was.

When Y/N entered Soobin’s apartment the next night, she brought hot chocolate for them. An apology gift, if she was being honest, for bothering him with her needy rampage. Not that the ashamed feeling was enough to keep her dirty mind at bay.

Nonetheless, it was easier to pretend she was there to learn how to play Overwatch than to learn how to suck dick. Donghyuck wasn’t a League of Legends guy like Soobin, however, Y/N had no interest neither in one game nor the other – she only needed to know the basics so she could try to strike conversation and maybe actually join them in one of their gaming meetings.

Sitting at the chair beside his one, she listened to him explain about the history and purpose of the game. It was always endearing to witness how talkative he became whenever he talked about the things he liked, and so she couldn’t help but fondly let him go on with the monologue.

Some time later, they started playing, but Soobin was too close, his long fingers typing the controls with ease while his attention was glued to the screen. Y/N told herself she was only looking at his hand because it was necessary. She didn’t have any other thoughts on her mind but learning the commands. She didn’t care how good those slender fingers felt inside her.

She couldn’t possibly care less that they curled just right and reached her spot with as much ease as they typed the keyboard. She obviously didn’t mind the fact they weren’t inside her right now.

“Stop! You’re trying to distract me!” Y/N groaned.

“I’m literally playing for you.” He quipped. “How is this…”

“You keep moving in a quick pace, knowing I get distracted easily. I can’t focus!”

Soobin frowned, trying to understand her mood swing. “It’s not my fault we have to be fast!”

“Still.” She pouted, chin up.

In those days following their new agreement, Soobin learnt something about Y/n: she had quite a temper when horny – as if it offended her that she felt any type of emotion, something similar to the way she behaved whenever she was fighting back tears.

And her flushed cheeks could also mean anger, of course. It would make sense. However, her glossy eyes and dry mouth had nothing to do with anger.

How could he be so sure?

Because he felt as restless as her. The moment she showed up in a black satin pyjama set, he realised his mistake. Now he knew that she was pantie-less, and now he also knew what she looked like without any piece of clothing on.

And now he wanted to see her again.

“Why are you so antsy?”

“I’m not!” Her pout grew bigger and he couldn’t help but grin. “Why are you smiling?”

“You’re cute.” He chuckled. “Come, try it instead.” Putting his hands over hers, he guided the mouse through her. “Press this for shooting.” He indicated once again, moving his finger over hers. “Like this. Good.” His voice dropped an octave. “Focus, love.”

He felt the shivers on her skin, and desire shot through him too.

“H-How do I enter there?” Y/N gulped as he pushed some hair off her shoulder.

“Use the mouse.” But instead of moving with her, he let go, lightly tracing her arm from the wrist to her elbow. “Atta girl.”

Fuck.

Any resolve of focusing vanished after those two words. Y/N felt her stomach tightening, heart picking up a beat. “What now?”

The proximity was tempting, and Soobin found himself giving in.

“While gaming… Things can get freaky.” His voice was low and raspy, enticing. “And people can get creative, you know? Maybe cockwarming, just to spice things up. Or a blowjob…”

Was it supposed to make her mouth water like that?

“Would you ask me to?”

Soobin held the impulse of correcting her, of reminding her this wasn’t about him, but Donghyuck. However, since he was the teacher, he told himself it made sense. “Do you want me to?”

Her chest rose with a deep intake of breath, as she tried to find her own voice. “Yes.” His lips found the column of her neck, leaving love bites all over. Y/N moaned, tightening her hold on the mouse. “Bin, I can’t concentrate.”

“Shall we move it to the bed?”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Leaping from her chair, she found some comfort in the mattress. Soobin chuckled, closing the game and following her. Matching her eagerness, he kissed her in an urgent pace, trying to placate whatever hunger grew within him recently – whenever he had his hands on Y/N, to be more precise.

It didn’t take much for their bodies to intertwine. Hips against hips, they moved in synch, chasing some kind of relief. Touching her under the pyjama shirt, he scratched from her lower back to her waist, then rested on her boobs, cupping them.

His touches and the friction made her belly tug, her panting growing more erratic by each second. “Bin, Bin, wait. Wait.” She tried to stop, but her body had a life of its own. “I shouldn’t…”

“What?” Pinching a nipple, he relished on her breathy moan.

“Oh, please, don’t.” Her hands came to his shoulders, ready to push him off, but instead they just clawed against his t-shirt. “I’m supposed to be giving you a blowjob, not humping you like a needy teenage girl.” But it was so good. So, so good. “I can’t come now.”

“What if I want you to?”

Yes. “No, please.” Y/N groaned, the words escaping without control. “If I don’t have your dick in my mouth any time soon, I might honestly go berserk.”

“That bad?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smirk gracing his face.

“That bad.” She agreed. “You don’t understand, I thought about it since…” Well, fuck, she was already in too deep, so she better make the best of it. “Ever since the kitchen episode.”

God, she made it hard for him to resist. “Really?”

“I even had wet dreams about it.” Y/N stole a peck. “Twice.” Another one. “So, you see, this is quite serious. I’ve been frustrated and horny… And now I’m so wet and bothered I might cry if I don’t get to suck you in less than two minutes!” She wasn’t lying, for her eyes turned glossy.

Donghyuck was going to be a fucking lucky bastard.

“Hey, no.” He held her cheek tenderly, pecking her lips too. “No need to cry, I’ll give it to you.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Soobin stole one last kiss. “On your knees for me, love.”

Y/N admitted she never loved such words as much as she did then.

Getting between his legs, she pushed his t-shirt up until his belly button. The outline of his underwear showed, and her mouth watered. Leaning down, she peppered feather kisses on the skin above it, feeling his abs hardening. It made a rush of power and satisfaction wash through her, elated for getting him that way. Tugging at the hem of his trousers, she pushed them down, bringing the underwear too – and she gulped at the sight.

Well…

Oh.

Well, God help her, for that man was handsome in every angle.

His dick sprung free, big, rosy, hard and veiny. And she didn’t waste any more time, welcoming him inside with a smooth, swift move.

Full on her mouth, heavy on her tongue, salty on her taste buds, Choi Soobin was perfect. Y/N wasn’t sure what made her wetter: finally sucking him off, or the way his head was bent backwards, throat exposed as his Adam’s apple bobbed with the moan he let out.

“Fuck, love, it’s so warm.” He rasped. “I’ll tug at your hair now, ok? So I can set a pace. Or do you want to do this alone?” He looked down and she shrugged, quite unsure of what to choose. “Let’s do it together, then. I want you to feel comfortable too.” Threading his fingers on her hair, Soobin pushed her head down a bit. “Open up a bit more, love, let me go deeper.” She obeyed. “Like that, yeah.” He closed his eyes for a second, relishing on the feeling. “Are you alright?” Y/N tried to answer, a muffled ‘mhm’ coming out instead of a ‘yes’. “Good. Do you think you can handle a bit of gagging? If I thrust and it hits your throat, will it be ok?”

He was so gentle with her, it was really sweet… But Y/N didn’t mind roughness. Replacing her lips with her hands, she swallowed a bit of drool. “We can try.”

“Tap my thighs if you feel any discomfort.”

“Don’t mind me, just let me make you cum.”

She lazily sucked his tip, jerking him off as she pondered the best way to take all of him. Relaxing her jaw, she let go with a ‘pop’ and took a deep breath before fully sucking him again. The grip on her hair tightened, forcing her head down with more strength than before. His dick slid easily, as if her mouth was made for him, welcoming his length.

“Fuck, love.” He groaned, borderline insane. “Fuck. Keep going.” Each time she bobbed up and down, she took a bit more of him until the gag came. Tears burned her orbs and her throat closed, making her cough loudly. “You good?”

“Good.” Y/N agreed. “Let me try again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Guide me.”

He moved forward, crowding over her and holding her jaw. “Breathe through your nose and hold it each time you sink. It helps.” He caressed her lower lip. “Here, try with my fingers.” She opened, feeling his thumb first, sucking on it slightly. Then, he took it off and gave her his index, so he could go further. His digit was slender, bony, but she felt the gag anyway. “Don’t breathe as you go down, love. Right, take it easy.” Y/N obeyed, holding her breath. “Like this, yes, perfect.” She reached for his dick again, mimicking what she was doing on his finger. “Fuck.” He let out an amused laugh, raspy and short. “Can I add one more?”

She shook her head, welcoming another one. It was honestly easier that way, but at each stroke of her wrist, she grew restless – she wanted to taste him again, wanted to hear his grunts, and see the way he looked like when he came. So, instead of waiting for him to tell her what to do next, Y/N pushed his hand away and focused on his cock. Soobin remained quiet, letting her do whatever she wanted. She gathered some saliva, spitting on his tip and smudging it with her thumb. He held back a groan, fluttering at the feeling of her caress.

“I wanna do it now.”

“Go on, then.” He barely finished speaking when she started sucking him again. Keeping in mind how and when to breathe, she was able to take him easier than before. Soobin’s eyes darkened, enamoured by the sight. “Like this, go slow. No need to rush.” She looked at him through her lashes, encouraged by his words. Drool pooled on her mouth, making her gag just a tiny bit when she got past half of his shaft. “You’re doing so good.” He praised. “So good for me, love.” It was enough to keep her going, a little more confident than before. He finally hit her throat and she gagged, but instead of stopping, Y/N bobbed her head up and down once again, trying the pace and the whole move. “Fuck, I might need you to suck me off every day now.” He chuckled, reaching for her hair again, not forcing her face, but keeping some kind of pressure there.

Y/N really did her best. Every time he hit her throat, she ignored the discomfort and the tears, because the pretty, quiet moans he let out were too divine for her to care about anything else. However, as his hips started moving on their own, the quicker they got, the harder it was to conceal her breathing… So, she had to stop. She decided to focus on the tip, sucking and licking at it, while her hand pumped his shaft up and down.

“Where?” His voice came out strained. “Where should I come, love?”

She frowned, pondering. Unbuttoning her shirt would take ages, so the most logical place was… her mouth. Well, she couldn’t deep throat yet, but she obviously could swallow. Besides, she knew boys liked stuff like that. Not bothering to answer, Y/N sucked him with renewed disposition.

It was the way she refused to step back, warm palm against his skin, delicious and wet lips on his tip… Soobin had been waiting for that since the kitchen episode. So, when his orgasm washed over him, he wasn’t sure what felt better: the sheer pleasure of finally cumming, or the whole experience. At the moment, it wasn’t his best friend between his legs ‘trying’ a blowjob so she could do it on her future boyfriend. Y/N was a pretty girl with a perfect mouth and an eagerness to please that would make any boy weak on the knees.

And when their eyes met, the lustful haze not as thick as before, Soobin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so satisfied with just a blowjob.

“Sorry I couldn’t take it all.” She broke the silence, disappointed. “I wish I…”

“Don’t worry.” He cut her off, ready to say ‘We can try again next time’, but the words died before reaching his tongue. There wouldn’t be a next time. She was supposed to do it with Donghyuck, not him. However, it wouldn’t be the same. Donghyuck probably didn’t have a big dick like he did. It was such a petty thought, but it was better than acknowledging the pang of jealousy Soobin felt at the perspective of Y/N deep throating his friend. “You were perfect.”

The small smile that graced her lips made his heart clench. “Oh, you don’t have to…”

“Trust me. You never got a blowjob, so trust me.”

She chuckled. “Alright.”

And because he was still in a haze thanks to the pleasure, Soobin pulled her up by the hand. “C’mere, let me take care of you now.”

Y/N went to him like a moth to a flame, without resisting. Their mouths collided as she sat on his lap, melting on the kiss, burning with it. Before he could lay her down and finally get those pyjama’s pants off, someone knocked on the door.

“Yo, bro, what are you doing?” It was Beomgyu’s voice. “You’re marked as ‘away’ on the group chat, but… Oh. Ohhh.” He giggled. “Is Y/N in there?”

Y/N shook her head in fear, signalling a ‘No’. Beomgyu wouldn’t let her live if he knew he interrupted them… And she wasn’t in a good mental state to take the blow.

“No. I was just watching anime.” Soobin thanked God his voice sounded normal.

“Ah, alright. How about LoL?”

“Coming right in.”

“Ok!” They heard his steps vanishing towards his own room, and sighed.

“I better go, then.” Y/N tried to stand up.

“Wait, no. Why?”

“I don’t want to see Beomgyu now, and you gotta focus on your game.” She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “C’mon, don’t be difficult.”

“Alright.” He sighed again. “Alright.”

Trying to avoid any embarrassment, she reached for the door, pondering what to say.

“Thank you, though. It was… Really nice.” Oh, how cringe!

“The pleasure was mine. Literally.” His eyes got smaller as he grinned.

“I’m glad.” She glanced at him one last time. “Night, Bin.”

“Night, love.”

Y/N’s breath caught, the nickname ringing in a different tune now. Almost bolting out of the room, she took the stairs instead of the lift, desperate to be alone.

She needed to get Soobin out of her system, and the slick mess on her pyjama’s pants had to be addressed by thoughts of tanned skin, adorable moles and a heart-shaped mouth… Although her mind kept recalling a roguish smile and dimples – which was annoying, since they belonged to…

Felicia and Y/N had left the Pilates’ class ready for their Friday brunch. She liked spending time with her friends, she recharged in their presence; however, this time she just wanted to be quiet. She had no idea of what to do with her thoughts, the flashes of last night occupying much of her head and making it so hard to focus on anything else.

“You’re not even listening.” Fel sighed.

“Of course I am!” Y/N retorted.

“So what was I saying?”

She gulped. “You were…” Luckily, her phone vibrated with a new message. Shaky hands, she ignored the tighten on her heart at the name on the screen.

[11:28] binbin🐰: party tomorrow

time to try our new strategy

Tomorrow.

Oh.

“What is it? You look… I don’t know, stunned?!” Felicia frowned.

“Soobin texted. A-apparently I’ll try to seduce Hyuck tomorrow.” She looked at her friend. “I might… I might kiss Donghyuck tomorrow, Fel.”

“And this is good, right?”

“Of course!” She smiled.

It was. Despite de unsettling feeling on her stomach.

Working went as smoothly as she could make it, now with two growing worries haunting her. Mimi noticed she was acting weird and called for help, which came by the form of take-out and Choi Yeonjun. There was nothing her darling dearest couldn’t mend, heal or sort out.

They were in the middle of an ‘Attack on Titans’ episode when she broke the news.

“I’ll try my next step with Hyuck tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Yeonjun turned to her, interested.

“Yeah.”

Something in her expression made his heart clench. “You nervous, darling?” He asked softly.

Eren’s screams while fighting against titans were a great demonstration of how Y/N felt the whole day. She was confused, frustrated and anxious.

“Nervous, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Got a lot on my mind.” Y/N took a deep sigh, cheeks flushing. “With Soobin things are easy. I don’t feel anxious, nor insecure. On the contrary! I feel… Seen. Cared for. Special. It makes sense, right? He’s my best friend.” She shook her head, as if trying to sort her thoughts. “I-I know what you’re thinking: friends don’t… Friends don’t do what we do. But he is just helping me, because I am desperate. I still like Donghyuck. I really do.”

“I know, darling, you don’t have to explain anything.” Yeonjun took her hand, giving it a tender squeeze. “I believe you, and I’m always on your side.”

The thing was… She was starting to doubt herself.

part two out now!

[thecuriousbeauty]

One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look. 

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well. 

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours. 

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside. 

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face. 

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head. 

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side. 

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point. 

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that. 

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening. 

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment. 

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers. 

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer. 

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices. 

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his. 

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers. 

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin. 

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds. 

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls. 

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained. 

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds. 

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain. 

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him. 

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm. 

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. 

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training. 

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice. 

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles. 

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players. 

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled. 

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events. 

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss. 

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well. 

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch. 

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her. 

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions. 

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there. 

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals. 

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best. 

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins. 

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years. 

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life. 

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

13 — THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS BAD THOUGHTS, ONLY YOUR ACTIONS TALK

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You’d, somehow, forgotten just how… vibrant two of your oldest friends were.

With the blades of the helicopter still spinning, the deafening sound of aircrafts around you, and a steady mist of rain, your body collides with another.

“Oi, watch it!” You exclaim, a beaming smile stretched over your features as the bulky, oblivious man squeezes his arms around your torso and buries his head into your neck. “You smell like gunpowder. And your fiancée.”

His voice comes out muffled against your skin. “And you smell like cheap body wash.”

He squeezes you once more before finally letting you go, his dimples deep and hair soggy with rain. You study his features, the sharpness of his jaw and the dusting of brunette against it. Him. One of your oldest friends in the military.

He looses a breath, eyes meeting yours and his hands falling to your shoulders, a comforting weight. You don’t have any words, can’t find them, so all that leaves your lips is a single name.

“Alex,” you whisper, voice breaking in the middle, heart a sore throb in your chest.

The storm clouds above paint the world around you in harsh greys and physical manifestations of sadness – but in it all, your light has arrived. 

And how powerful it is.

“Moonflower!” A deeply familiar, feminine voice shouts, and you spread your arms wide and accept the body that crashes against your own. Your laugh is startled and pure, but relief and serotonin floods your system as warm as the embrace you’re surrounded in.

You’d found solace and even a home in your solitude, your loneliness, but now? 

Now, with the only two people in your life that have remained by your side, no matter the distance, holding you in their embrace?

It feels like family, even if you know there isn’t a space between the two of them for you to fit in – no crevice large enough for you to ever comfortably merge.

A foster family, maybe. Or a found one, however tenuous and distant.

“I missed you both so much,” you murmur, voice cracking slightly. You clear your throat, inhaling a trembling breath as you squeeze your eyes shut and rest your face in the crook of her neck. She smells of an odd mixture of her usual perfume, and Alex’s cologne.

You wonder if you’ll still have enough limbs attached to get to their wedding, by the time everything has been dealt with.

If you’ll even have a head attached.

It’s a small eternity (or maybe a few seconds, or maybe a few years) until she pulls away, a glint in her eyes that seems a concoction of pity and strength.

“You look stunning, Farah,” you grin, and your cheeks burn with the odd sensation of joy.

She crinkles her nose, dark stray hairs flying across her face from the continuing wind of both winter and the helicopter. Her skin glows with health – and you realise, then, how even with the stress of reconstructing a nation, she’s happy. Honest and unrepentant and golden. A survivor of war, but a survivor nonetheless.

Raising a brow, she returns, “You look like shit.”

A chuckle leaves your throat, the familiarity that is Farah’s honesty akin to a hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around a freezing frame.

“You look like you’ve been injured,” Alex adds, a small wince gracing his features. He’s miraculously found himself once more at Farah’s side, not unlike a loyal guard dog. 

A guard dog guarding a lion, maybe, but a guard dog nonetheless.

“Unlike you two,” you chastise, folding your arms and burying your cold hands in the space between your bicep and breasts, “I’m at war.”

“With the guy we warned you about,” Farah raises her brow, voice acidic and biting. “The guy we told you was going to ruin your life?”

“There’s a difference between ruining my life, and quite literally ruining my life,” you counter, watching a cloud of breath hang in the air, chilled by the evening cold, before dissipating into the breeze.

“He can continue ruining your life inside,” Alex cuts in, a hand falling against the dip of Farah’s spine, and the other moving to rest between your shoulder blades. He applies just enough pressure to be convincing, but not demanding.

It may as well be a demand, however, with how weak your mindscape seems to be in the face of comfort and familiarity. 

The base seems small, even with the short distance, a reminder of how self-contained and cataclysmic your life has become (has always been). It’s well past eight, now, and with the winter hours it’s almost pitch black already. A few stars decorate the black landscape, this far out from most light pollution. Your eyes stray to the glistening balls of flame, and you wonder if someday soon you’ll find yourself amongst them.

Two duffel bags hang off of Alex’s shoulder, and it sparks your interest. 

“How long are you two planning to stay?” You ask, as if they’re merely old friends staying for a weekend, catching up over bottles of wine and damaged decks of cards. 

They both shrug, almost in sync. Your heart thunders in your chest at the small display of how attuned they are with each other – how in love. It’s Farah who answers, simply, “However long it will take.”

When you look down to your boots, ripples of water against sleek concrete cascading beneath each footfall, it’s merely to hide the stretch of a smile that braces your chapped lips. Your voice is small, uncharacteristically vulnerable, when you mutter to the ground, “Thank you.”

“We owe you, hell, we owe you more than a dozen lifetimes for what you’ve done for us,” Alex scoffs, the gratitude rolling off of him unlike the rain soaking his long-sleeved v-neck. 

“Let’s just call this even, then,” you retort, lifting your head once more, allowing them both to see the softened curve of your mouth, the gentle slope of your brows.

The rain has paused its pouring, but a whole other kind of thunderstorm awaits the three of you in the entry of the base.

When you’d called Farah and Alex – just two nights ago, mere minutes after finishing your meal with Ghost and Soap – you hadn’t spared many details about Graves. You’d told them of your betrayal, of your thoughts, of the adrenaline rush that was that last fight with him.

What you hadn’t disclosed was your increasingly peculiar arrangement with the 141. Or your tryst with Gaz. Or your mess of feelings, as a whole.

So, really, you hadn’t told them much in the realm of everything.

Now, seeing the outline of four starkly familiar profiles, waiting underneath the small awning above the entrance to the base, you regret leaving such vital pieces of information out of your hours-long call.

“This is the one first impression you don’t want to fuck up,” is all you manage to grate out to the two beside you, before you fall into hearing distance of the very imposing image the 141 has managed to portray. Sometimes, you forget how genuinely daunting the four men are, with the different lights you’ve seen them in.

This is not one of those times.

As soon as the light sitting at the door shines against the three of you, Soap startles forward, clad in only a tight-fitting grey shirt, with a hefty leather jacket in his grip. When he reaches you, not even glancing at the newcomers, he pulls the jacket over your shoulders, warm and gun-rough hands brushing the soft skin of your neck as he does so.

“Impatient, lass, runnin’ off into the rain without any feckin’ layers,” he reprimands, without any bite at all.

You’re stumped, for a moment, before shaking your head lightly and stepping away from the utterly confusing man. With a dramatic flourish of a hand gesture, you motion towards your left. 

Thankfully, Soap hadn’t met you too far out, so it only takes a few steps before you’re standing before the other three. A healthy dose of scepticism and tension fills the air between you all, and while you could certainly do without it, it still stings.

Just as you’re about to introduce everyone, despite Soap’s oddly rude behaviour, Price interrupts.

“Bloody hell, small world, ain’t it?” He chuckles, throaty and pleased, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest. His smile is like a beam in the dark of night.

“Thought it’d be a nice surprise, old man,” Farah returns, bringing out her hand for him to shake with a firm grip, both comfortable and at ease in each other’s presence. When Farah goes to pull away, however, Price stops her from doing so with wide eyes, laser-focused on her ring-adorned finger.

“Well I’ll be damned, Alex, how’d you convince her to deal with your arse for eternity?” Price teases, and while you expect the younger man to hit back, he simply beams.

The three seem to be in their own little world, with you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost being left with raised brows. 

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Alex raises a hand, having the decency to look sheepish. His eyes trail along the 141 warily, before meeting your own eyes, relaxing slightly under your gaze. He seems reluctant to break the contact, but does so nonetheless, words directed at the 141 as he says, “Price is an old friend.”

Farah and Price break their quiet conversation, directing their attention back to the group at large. It’s quiet, for a moment, which is a blessing considering the large personalities at hand.

You’re the one to break it.

“Well,” you start, a sudden burst of anxiety sparking in your stomach – you hadn’t considered the merging of your two lives, of past and present, the clashing of…

Oh. God.

Oh God. Oh God, you had almost forgotten that, but if you had, maybe they did, too? Yes. Definitely. It’ll be fine.

(It won’t be fine, you’re more certain, but a little lie to yourself can’t hurt. Much.)

You continue, not a breath out of place despite your internal thoughts, “Farah, Alex, meet the 141.”

Gesturing to the four men, meeting all of their eyes, you then gesture to the other two. “Guys, meet Farah and Alex.”

Silence fills the space between you all for a mere moment – just past a second, really – but it’s damning and heavy all the same. It has your chest tightening and your throat constricting, not unlike a thread of rope being pulled taut around the curve of your neck. 

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Farah says, voice steady and calculated. Defensive, really.

Gaz’s eyes narrow, his voice perfectly even and sickly sweet as he responds, “I can promise you, the last thing Sweetheart needs is to be taken care of.”

It’s… tense.

You’d, of course, expected that it would take some time for Farah and Alex to become anything close to friendly with the 141, but this feels different. A kind of static alights the air, a live wire sensitive to any spark that will instantly set it aflame.

“It’s good to see you again too, mate,” Alex smiles, but a sharp edge lines the curve of his lips. His eyes meet Gaz’s, and they don’t stray.

With a tight smile, Gaz responds, “Likewise.”

Ghost stands farthest from the group, a haunting spectre, shrouded in shadows with his arms folded over his chest and his hip resting against the wall. It’s impossible to see where, exactly, his eyes are trained – but you know they rest on you nonetheless.

Soap’s jacket remains a comforting weight on your shoulders, and although you’re loath to admit it even to yourself, it is miles better than the thin top you’d braved. He’s standing closest to you, on your right, posture straightened and imposing. He exudes a kind of energy you haven’t felt from him before, the closest being when you’d been separated from him post-surgery, maybe.

“Let’s have some tea, maybe, in the common room?” You ask, but it’s not really a request. Your tone is thick with insistence and command, and no one is in a place to deny you.

By the time you all make it to the common room – Alex and Farah comfortably speaking with Price, and you walking silently with Gaz, Ghost and Soap. The latter, especially, remaining a close presence at your side.

A few candles are lit against the windowsill, and a singular lamp sat against the large couch has been lit. No need for the blinding white light of the ceiling – just comfort and familiarity.

It feels at odds with the terse energy at hand, but simultaneously, a blessing.

Alex immediately takes a seat on the far right of the couch, at ease with himself and his surroundings. Gaz sits on the far left, leaving two spots between them. Without a word, Soap’s hand finds your lower back, and he virtually pulls you with him to sit between the two men. 

You find yourself stuck between Alex and Soap, with Ghost, Price and Farah more than happy to stand. Even if there was space, you doubt they’d choose to take a seat.

“We need to find out what Shepherd’s up to,” you speak, breaking the small talk between Price and Farah, as well as between Gaz and Soap. The room falls silent immediately. “And we need to find out what actually happened to my mother.”

The silence continues, and you find yourself pulling the leather jacket tighter around your frame – finding solace in the heat of the two men at either side of you. Your past and your present, both there, both helping.

It’s, surprisingly, Ghost who answers the sentiment first. 

“We’re at your disposal,” he simply says, as if it’s ever that simple. Maybe it can be, maybe it will be, with the powerhouse of a group that’s surrounding you now, with all of your history and feelings and sentiments. 

You can feel the seeds of hope in your chest begin to blossom, begin to shine underneath the rays of sunlight that are Ghost’s words.

“Are,” you roll your tongue in your mouth, feeling the words out before you speak them, “Are you all ready and willing to do this? Because if you’re not, I’m going to get the job done myself.”

It’s true, suicide mission or not. 

“Yer outta yer feckin’ mind if ya think we’re leavin’ ya behind now,” Soap scoffs, relaxing further into the couch as he throws his arm up and around the back of the couch, hand skimming your left shoulder. His thigh presses against your right one.

“You’re stuck with us now, Sweetheart,” Price shrugs, hands in his pockets.

Murmurings of agreement and similar sentiments echo around the group, and you find yourself exhaling such a deep breath that you’re sure it expels some decade-old air that had been stuck in the crevices of your lungs. 

“Hold on,” Farah raises her hand, brows furrowing as her other fist rests at her bucked hip. “What’s this whole Sweetheart thing about?”

Soap’s hand finds the nape of your neck, brushing away your hair to rest a firm grip around the warmed skin. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, and another when he responds, “Simple, aye? She’s a Sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s impossible to quell the growing grin that’s creeping onto your face. “This idiot,” you nod towards the Scot at your side, “Was bleeding out. Gave him some sweetheart lollies to help with the blood loss, and, well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” he echoes, his eyes trained on your profile. When you meet his eyes, for a mere second, it feels like an electric shock.

Alex, on your other side, glances at you through the corner of his eyes with a hint of conspiracy. He leans in, mouth just a hair away from your ear, when he asks, “Which one of them are you fucking? Or have they all tumbled into your bed?”

Your elbow to his side is more a knee-jerk reaction to his words than anything, but you’re at least decent enough to wince at his groan of pain. He clutches his side like he’s been shot on the field, head falling to rest against your chest with dramatic flourish. Both Gaz and Soap start, as if about to physically restrain the man, and your unamused gaze immediately finds the Sergeants.

What the actual fuck is up with everyone?

“Not a jealous woman, are you, Farah?” Ghost chimes, voice guttural where he stands just to your left, by the arm of the couch. You can’t say you’d forgotten his presence – even with his silence, it’s a tangible, physical weight on your shoulders – but it still startles you when he speaks.

Farah’s easy smile turns into a cryptic smirk instantaneously, and, fuck.

Maybe, very possibly, most likely definitely: they remembered. Or, at least, Farah did.

Fuck.

You suppose it’s not really a thing you forget, unless your mind’s an overfilled storage room of memories and current events and problems. Which yours most definitely is, and of which theirs is likely not.

“Can’t say I am. Not the first time they’ve gotten handsy,” she shrugs, as if it’s an obvious statement.

As if the room hasn’t instantly dropped approximately ten degrees, and your heart stops where it should be thrumming in your chest.

It’s almost funny, how you instantly train your attention to Gaz. How your mind immediately fears his expression, his reaction to such a thinly veiled sentiment.

What you see is the instant rising of walls, the shuttering of his eyes, and the stiffening of his frame.

You wonder how many missed heartbeats it takes to constitute a heart attack.

“Old fling, were they?” Price asks, because, really, of course he does. When you look to him, he deliberately keeps his gaze on Farah, not giving you a single glance. It’s not jealousy, you know, because it’s Price, and he, in no capacity, holds any such feelings towards you. But it’s something damning nonetheless.

Alex, oblivious idiot that he is, finally pulls his head back up with a sharp laugh. If you didn’t know him, you’d think it was malicious. “Nah. Just thought some experimentation with an extra partner would be fun, and, hey, she is pretty damn hot.”

“You’re a dickhead,” you chastise, suddenly aware of all the points that you and Alex touch – all the points that you and Soap touch. 

“Didn’t realise ye were into that,” Soap bites, abruptly, tone sharp and acrid. You barely suppress a shiver at the shift in the man’s attitude, in comparison to his usually jovial and good-natured attitude. 

“Didn’t realise you were into kink-shaming, either,” you retort, almost startling at your own defensiveness.

Ghost’s hum feels like a reprimand, akin to an owner using a dog whistle on their trusted border collie, or a dominatrix snapping her whip. 

“I don’t think threesomes are a kink?” Alex’s statement ends in a question, a confused look settling over his features. “Like, polyamory definitely isn’t, but what about one-offs? Babe, do you know?”

Farah doesn’t answer, not for a long while. Entirely too aware of the tension filling the room, of the dangerous game she’s about to partake in. The one Alex started, likely unknowingly, but started nonetheless.

“No. It’s not kink. But some of what we did was.”

For, well, not the first time in your life (or even the last week, really), but pretty darn close to it, you consider storming into the weapon supplies and shooting yourself.

“Well!” You exclaim, nervous laughter following the statement, palms clammy where you wipe them against your pants, “Farah, Alex, you probably need some rest, y’know, after your flight. I certainly need it.”

Standing before you even realise you are, you move to get the hell out of there, when Soap’s hand wraps around your wrist, and tugs you back down to sit even closer against him. When Alex’s hand finds your shoulder, you realise distantly that this must be a kind of tug of war. Or piggy in the middle.

Potato, patata. You’re the bait either way.

“The night’s still young,” Price cuts in, and everyone around you seems to nod. “Unless you’re uncomfortable, Sweetheart,” he adds, and the genuinity beneath his words turns into a threat of your pride in your head.

“I’m fine,” you straighten your shoulders, set your nerves. “Just looking out for my friends.”

It’s a lie. You know it, Ghost most likely does, too, and you can only hope that everyone else is ignorant to that small fact.

Subconsciously, you find your attention drifting to Gaz once more.

He hasn’t spoken, you realise, not since Alex had said that. When he catches you watching his profile, lit by the lamp, the candles – he meets your eyes. Not for longer than a second, or half of one, you’re sure, but it hits you like a bullet. When he instantly looks away, you can’t help the sudden anger that stokes the flames in your stomach.

It’s not as if you were openly flirting with either Alex or Farah, and even then, who was he to be mad? You’d been together once, for God’s sake – not for a single moment since. Long days of work and stress and training made the comfort of his bed simply that.

And even then, even then, you were in no way official. Not in any semblance of the word, not with the stakes of the mission at hand, the risk that came with such relationships.

His response gives you half a mind to play up your past on purpose. You won’t, but the urge is definitely there.

It’s not silent, thank god. Alex, Price and Farah have continued a previous conversation, Ghost is silent and brooding, and…

“Didnae pick ye as promiscuous,” Soap states, fiercely meeting your eyes with a swirling of emotions visible within his own. He says the words like they’re poison on his tongue, and, fuck, you’re close to breaking point.

Your responding smile is nothing short of mocking. “Calling me a slut is less wordy, don’t you think?”

“Dinnae put words into my bloody mouth,” Soap seethes, leaning in further to your space, the scent of his cologne invading your senses. You hate how confused it all makes you feel, how unsure of your emotions and goddamn attachments.

“Oh, sorry, does the big bad military man want to tell me what such a big word means? If I don’t have the mental capacity to choose how I have sex, I surely can’t understand your wide vocabulary, can I?” You hiss, bending your neck slightly and not backing away from his posturing for even a moment.

“Soap, stop threatening her,” Price barks, and you distantly remember the people around you, the setting, the image the two of you must make.

You remember, and you can’t seem to find a single fuck to give.

“I can fight my own damn battles!” You yell, not sending a single glance Price’s way – eyes completely remaining on darkened blue instead.

“And that’s why ye still got bloody feckin’ bandages, damn bruises –”

“Do not go there with me right now, Johnny, or I swear to fucking god.”

Both of your chests heave, and you’ve forgotten what even sparked this sudden argument, this spiteful back and forth. You haven’t a clue in this moment, and you relish in it.

“She’s a better damn fighter than the lot of you,” Alex interrupts, “Injuries don’t mean shit, ‘specially not when you don’t know what the fuck she’s gone through.”

Soap directs his ire toward the man at your side, voice thick with anger and his accent when he counters, “And ye know ‘er so much better, jus’ cause ye got in ‘er pants? Aye?”

“Because he isn’t acting like a goddamn meathead!” You find yourself fisting your hand into his shirt, pulling him closer to you, faces inches apart.

“‘Nd kissin’ ‘n tellin’ is fine ‘nd dandy,” Soap laughs, without a hint of humour, “Thought ye had standards.”

A lot of things happen in the preceding moment.

You’d like to say you can’t be blamed for any of the actions that occur, but you also know that accountability is a virtue. And you mean to uphold it.

It goes something like this.

The fist that had been wrapped in his shirt pulls back, and instead, collides with his jaw. 

Arms wrap around your chest, caging your arms to your side. Arms, too, wrap around Soap, pulling him away from you. You’re both yelling obscenities, none of which you can name, and you both fight against your restraints. 

You don’t need to have a full frame of mind to know that it’s Alex and Price holding you back, and through the haze of it all, you’re sure it’s Ghost and Farah keeping Soap away.

“Calm the hell down!” Price commands, voice a beam of light in a storm. It brings you back to yourself, but not enough to stem the bleeding of your anger, just enough for you to recognise it.

“Bloody idiot, Johnny, get it together!” Ghost is saying to Soap, standing in front of him and shaking his shoulders as Farah’s arms remain wrapped around his torso, keeping his fists below his waist.

Gaz is nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t fucking speak to be, Johnny, I don’t want to see your face,” you shout, eyes glassy, before you finally ease into Price and Alex’s grips, their own going lax. You shoulder off their arms, before without a word, storming down the corridor.

Your name’s called out after you, ‘Sweetheart’, ‘Moonflower’ – none of it matters. Not past the roaring in your ears, the spite burning in your veins. The pent up energy of an unfinished fight.

Shoving open the door to your – Gaz’s – room, you startle when you see the man himself, standing in the middle of the room, shirt in hand. The only light comes from the window, the full moon high in the sky more than enough light to serve as a lamp. His sweats hang loose on his hips, his muscles bulging but still lithe, more like a gymnast’s build than a wrestler’s.

He’s never looked better.

Whether that’s the adrenaline speaking, or the anger, you don’t know. Don’t care. Not past the need to have his mouth against your own.

It takes all of two seconds before the door slams shut behind you, and you’re shoving Gaz onto the bed, his own groan answer enough. His brown eyes glisten with the moonlight, and his throat dips when he swallows, focus trained on where you tug off that damn leather jacket. your shirt following.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you,” you demand, “Unless it’s yes, no, or please.”

He nods, shaky, voice breaking when he responds, “Yes.”

Kicking off your pants, leaving you standing in only your panties and bra, you move to straddle him. He dutifully remains laid onto the bed, chest heaving in harsh sweeps, mouth slightly open in a mixture of shock and lust.

“Where do you get off,” you breathe, voice heavy with threat as you drag your pointer finger along the length of his throat, before following the line of his collarbone, “Being all moody about who I’ve fucked? What gives you the right?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the weakest he’s ever sounded, “Not – I’m not mad, I just. I want you.”

Your hand finds his neck, forming a light grip around it. You haven’t applied any pressure, but his breath hitches at the weight of it, the promise. 

“That sounded like more than one syllable,” you frown, mockingly patronising. You squeeze his neck, not anywhere hard enough to choke, but enough to have him squeezing his eyes shut. “We can talk later.”

He nods, harsh, quick jerks of his head, and the slightly unhinged smile returns to your face.

You hadn’t gotten the fight you’d yearned for, not with Soap, but this is a good enough replacement for that need.

Dragging your hand down his bare chest, you pause when you see scars. Not healed like those from battle, and ones you recognise. Before you can process what it means, Gaz lets out a sharp gasp, and when you look to him, his eyes are wide and.

And scared.

“No, hey, you can speak,” you ramble, and you can feel the flame of rage dim to sparking charcoal. It should be scary, how quickly you find yourself worried for the man, but it’s not. “It’s okay.”

“I should’ve told you,” he immediately breathes, squeezing his eyes shut once more. His head falls back to the bed once more. “I’m.”

He swallows, and you find your hand gravitating to his throat once more – this time, in a soft, soothing caress.

“I’m trans,” he finishes, saying it like one would whisper a secret in a confessional. Your heart stutters in your chest, and it aches, the idea that he’s had lovers who’ve made him feel so awful about his identity.

Your hand moves from his neck to his cheek, thumb brushing underneath his eyes, and they finally flutter open once more.

They soften when they see your smile.

“Thank you for telling me,” you say, voice low and cautious. “If you wanna stop, it’s fine, but,” you shrug, “You’re hot. I still wanna fuck. You might have to show me what feels best, but that’s kinda hot, too.”

“You’re okay with it?” His voice is fragile, shaky, and fuck he’s pretty.

“I’m okay with it,” you echo, sentiment genuine and kind. “Tell me what you want, Kyle.”

His arms remain laid out on the bed at either side of him, his skin still heated with want and need and wanton lust. His voice strengthens when he answers.

“I want you to use me – take it out on me,” he says. “Please.”

And who are you to deny such a request?

author's note. i was veryveryvery close to orphaning or marking as complete. i'm not really in or interested in the COD fandom at all anymore, but, i realised that i also want to see where this story goes? excluding the characters, the actual story and world i've created for sweetheart has me wanting to see it to its end.

that, along with the fans. you guys and your genuine interest and comments have made this project worth it. i can't express enough how much you all mean to me, especially those that comment on every chapter and have been there every step of the way. thank you, thank you, thank you.

i can't promise as efficient and regular updates, but i CAN promise that i plan to finish this story in its entirety.

thank you to those who have stuck around, and thank you for those that continue to do so. you mean the world to me, and the very writing of this fic is owed to you.

(also, if anyone has any feedback on my trans rep and dealing with a trans character, PLEASE lmk. i am in no way perfect, and if i've made a mistake, please tell me so i can fix it and grow as a writer!)

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19 @infpt-zylith @marispunk @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @xvintageghostx @thigh-o-saur @thriving-n-jiving @callsign-pyro @mmmangel @aisawa-reo @just-pure-trash @silly-norman @annoyingstrawberryballoon @chop-zulyzulyyy

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[littlexdeaths]

stage tech eddie munson x actress reader

warnings: modern!college au, lots of making out

y’all can blame this brain rot i’m currently having on a conversation i had with @rebelfell about techie eddie that ended up spawning all of this… thanks sarah for indulging me xx. 😘

also big kisses to @taintandviolent and @uglypastels for giving this a look over for me <3

“hey— sweetheart. you’re gonna miss your cue.”

eddie all but mumbles against your lips as you pull him in even closer, your bodies wedged between the heavy stage curtains.

“don’t care,” you reply almost breathlessly, allowing your lips to trail over his neck.

you are no longer interested in listening for the inevitable call of ‘veronica?’ to leave barb’s microphone. the music begins to swell just as you are supposed to rush out on stage to finish off the opening number.

while robin was initially supposed to help you with your quick change, when you rushed off stage you were surprised (and delighted) to find eddie in her place instead. the male gave you a cheeky grin as he had your blazer and skirt combo draped over his arm.

but the way his eyes continued to linger a little too long on your half naked figure once you slipped your costume up over your head— would only spell out trouble for both of you.

which was how you ended up half-dressed, blue blazer dangling off your shoulder and your lips smashed against his own. his hands tug you inevitably closer, rings digging into the meat of your hips while he effectively steals the air from your lungs.

your fingers grip tightly onto the cotton of his black t-shirt, feeling the heat radiating from his chest beneath the worn fabric. your lips eagerly drag across the thick skin of his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto the pale skin there.

this had been building for weeks— it had all started when eddie had offered to help you with your scene work. the male almost too eager to have you in his lap, grinding on him while you belted out the lyrics to dead girl walking.

but he’d had his eye on you from the moment you walked into that first rehearsal, all bright eyed and giddy. the more he saw you blossom under the glow of the stage lights, the more he wanted to call you his. little did he know that you felt the same way, despite your initial reservations.

the cast and crew should never mix— that’s what you were always told.

however your eyes would always seek out his lanky figure in the light booth during rehearsals. and you’d ‘accidentally’ leave your prop package of red vines out for him to steal, just to have an excuse to go up to booth to see him. only for him to hold them hostage above your head, dimples on full display as you fought to get them back.

but when you had to kiss your on stage JD— all you could think about how much better his lips would feel slotted against yours. and eddie can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him after you receive some feedback that the passion between you and jonathan was less than stellar.

but that low burning jealousy would rear it’s ugly head when you steadily began to improve.

wanton hands would paw at each other hungrily, those once dull kisses becoming increasingly more passionate with each rehearsal. and that blissful expression that flitted over your features while you gazed into the warmth of jonathan’s eyes has eddie crumbling the pages of his script beneath his fists.

but if this sudden improvement was because you were picturing eddie during your scenes together, no one was the wiser.

the mutual pining between you was palpable and downright maddening, to everyone involved in the production. so if some of them began to scheme a little behind the scenes to bring you two together, neither of you were aware of this recent development.

but everything finally come to a head with the culmination of what your cast mates so lovingly called, hell week. with the stress of opening night looming over your head, and the ever mounting tension between you two— it didn’t take much for your remaining resolve to crumble.

so when he gave you that look, all bets were off.

when eddie desperately tugs your mouth back to his, any worries that you shouldn’t be getting involved with one of your crew members is thrown out the window with each heated press of his lips. you can taste the lingering cigarette on his tongue and you’re engulfed in the musky, spicy scent that is so distinctly eddie when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his palm.

you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t notice when the music stops abruptly and the burst of confused chatter erupts on the stage. eddie just pulls you in closer, eagerly swallowing the small whine that leaves your lips. the two of you only manage to pull apart when you hear nancy’s annoyed voice ringing out from behind the curtains.

“where the hell is veronica?”

you are a flurry of limbs and fabric as you struggle to pull on the rest of your costume, eddie’s rings accidentally getting caught in your hair during the process. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead in a silent apology before pushing you toward the bright lights of the stage.

you subtly wipe the gloss that was smeared across the corner of your mouth when you rush back out from behind the curtains. unaware that your blazer was buttoned incorrectly in your haste to finish dressing.

“sorry! costume malfunction! can we run it from the bridge?” you ask innocently.

nancy gives you a disapproving look from her stage manager’s seat, flipping the pages of her script back with a raised brow. you’re just thankful the director wasn’t here for this run through— or you’d have your ass chewed out for missing your big entrance.

“alright from the top of the bridge people, places!” she calls.

everyone utters a ‘thank you places’, while you duck back behind the curtain to get into position.

you can feel how flushed you are, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. whether that was from the way his lips were pressed against your own or the melting warmth of the stage lights, was hard to say. but you manage to catch his eye as he makes his way past you and the male can’t help but grin despite himself.

“don’t miss that cue again, sweet thing.” he teases, giving your ass a little pat before continuing on his way back towards the light booth.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Pillow Talk

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ complicated/developing feelings, intimacy, heavy petting, urgent sex, dry humping, public sex (kinda), dirty talk, coming in pants (m!), implied trauma, miscommunication, tenderness, porn w/o plot

Tav innocently offered to help Astarion with his morning routine. But things get very close, and Astarion is shocked how her sweet face belies the sinful mouth she has...

-

"So you fill in your eyeline, right?"

He looked up from his book.

"Pardon?"

She was wiping the stray blood off of her neck with her fingers. Startling him when they slid into her mouth.

They had struck up a routine, he drank and she stayed to chat or just lay in quiet in his tent for a while.

This platonic exchange was new to him, but he found it surprisingly comfortable. Even looking forward to seeing her. Big doe eyes peeking under the flap of his tent, asking for entry.

She pointed good naturedly at him, licking her fingers clean. His eyes locked on her mouth.

"Your eyes. Your lashes are naturally white, yeah?"

They were, but he was a mite distracted.

Tav was... deceptive in nature. All eyes and lips. Her voice a bright chirp. Freckles and dimples. A beauty that was fit to the innocence of summer.

But as he got to know her found that she was more debauched. Always willing to cause chaos, down for anything.

Even shocking him sometimes with the things that would come out of her pouty flushed lips.

The contrast was... interesting.

"Why do you ask?" He intoned, looking back to his book in feigned disinterest.

"Well, I could help. It must be hard without a mirror."

"Interesting. And what would you gain from this exchange?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to fuck you Astarion."

He blinked.

She had brushed off his advances by turning the tables before. He came at her with honeyed words and she called his bluff, upping the ante with crude huffed words in his ear until he walked away flustered.

It vexed him to no end. To not only be bested but also how her words shot straight to his groin.

"You sure about that?" He smirked, unable to help himself.

She smiled Cheshire at him. Started pulling her shirt open. "You want me to make you scream, Astarion?" The last of her words coming out a loud moan. A dare.

"Would you pipe down?" He admonished, voice coming out a harsh whisper.

She giggled, closing her shirt again. The sliver of the curve of her breast hidden again.

His ears were flushed, closing his book.

She sat back, legs tucked under her. All innocent again.

"So...?" She sing-songed.

"Okay, fine." He huffed, acting terribly put upon.

"Yay!" She chirped.

He bit back the smile forming on his lips.

"If you so insist, you can assist me in the morning. Now begone from me, demon."

She giggled again, high rising bells. Waving her fingers at him as she retreated from his tent.

Gods, what a nuisance.

Completely ignoring the tightness in his leathers he blew out the candle.

The sounds of morning accosted him, groaning in his tent.

He lifted the flap to get some air but laid back down with a dramatic flop.

From the window of his tent, he watched his campmates mill around.

Only Karlach excitedly preparing for her day, greeting with big smiles and hands clasped on shoulders. Everyone else a smeared facsimile of alertness.

Tav was still in her long sleep shirt, but mostly put together. Hair in a long plait down her back, face washed. Talking to Halsin, though he couldn't hear their conversation. Halsin's eyes gazing down at her in clear desire.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him, basically standing on tiptoes.

At one point, she lifted her arms to stretch above her head.

He saw the druids eyes dip to her arched chest hungrily then back up to her eyes, carrying on the conversation.

Astarion felt a heat in his chest. Then shook his head.

This was none of his concern. She was beautiful, of course their campmates wanted her.

She looked over, seeing his tent open. Her eyes brightening. Opening her mouth to say something to Halsin then bouncing away towards him.

He saw how the druids face slightly fell and felt a petty thrill in his chest.

"Good morning~" She sung. "May I come in?"

It felt good, if not foreign, to be asked permission.

"Of course, darling."

She climbed inside with a little wiggle.

He turned to his chest, pulling the small washbasin out.

As he began his morning routine, she laid on the floor of his tent, snuggling down into his newly freed blankets with a happy sigh.

She had to know how adorable she was.

He reveled these moments, where it was just them in a comfortable silence. It was intimate, but in a way that didn't make him feel like he was drowning.

He rubbed his face clear, his unmade hair falling down into his forehead. Sighing.

"What I wouldn't give for a working mirror." He grumbled.

"Well, let me see. I'll paint you a picture." She smiled, looking up at him from his bedroll.

Though he couldn't see himself, he suddenly felt exposed. Knowing his face was bare, his curly hair free of pomade and unruly from sleep.

He turned and looked down at her with a slight frown.

She sat up and took him in.

Of course she looked radiant. Her bare face giving her an even more entrancing layer of beauty.

He tried to not squirm under her gaze.

"Well, your eyes are very beautiful like this, the contrast of red and white suits you. Your lips are full and arched. Jaw sharp."

Her eyes drifting up to his hair. Tilting her head and smiling wide, her dimples on display.

"And your hair is so cute like this. Like a big sheep." She giggled.

"I am not a big sheep." He huffed. "How dare you."

She bit her lip, still smiling at him. "Altogether very handsome. It's a good look on you."

He suddenly wanted to kiss her and blinked away the thought in shock.

"So are you going to let me do your eyeliner now?" She asked, clearly excited.

"You know what you're doing?" He asked, handing her the smudging pencil.

"Just because I don't usually wear makeup while trudging through the woods doesn't mean I don't know how to use it." She teased.

"Well some of us can afford to take less effort it seems."

"Careful, that was dangerously close to a compliment." She laughed. "Here, lay back."

He laid against some propped pillows and she straddled over him.

Her face coming over his, gently holding his head still.

He knew she meant nothing by the position or the closeness. But his heart still phantom pounded.

"Look up." She hushed, lining the bottom of his eye with sure hands.

"You know, I get why you feel strange about your appearance." She spoke softly, face stern in concentration.

"People are weird about me too. Most people only give me the time of the day if they want to fuck me."

His eyes had drifted up to the roof of his tent but came back to hers at that.

"Fuck me then forget me. Thought that was how things were going to be for me for a long time."

She sighed. "Maybe it still is. If we didn't have tadpoles to keep us together I think half the camp would be culpable."

She had taken the air out of his lungs. Unknowingly mirroring his own thoughts to him.

"Sorry, that's not your problem." She murmured, switching to his other eye. Her tongue sticking slighty out of her mouth in concentration.

It wasn't, and yet he felt guilty. After all, he still was planning to seduce her. It hadn't been working, but still.

"And what if someone wanted to be with you and stick around?" He hushed.

She looked at him, pausing. Then smiling sadly.

"I don't know. I've never gotten that far." She shrugged. "Could be nice. Or a nuisance, depending on the person."

He laughed low in his throat.

"Okay, done." She leaned back, admiring her work.

"Oh, wait." She hushed, leaning forward again, lips so close to his he could feel their heat. Fingers smudging gently along the outer corner of his eye.

He leaned up thoughtlessly and slid his lips against hers.

She froze in shock, then slowly leaned into him. Moaning softly.

He cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her into him. Suddenly hungry and needful.

Aware of the tent flap still open, he turned his body over hers, shielding her from view.

Didn't need all of their companions spying on them, did they?

They pulsed into each other, all heat and slick. Tongues twisting, desperate pulls of hands. Panting.

His mind was full of nothing but spinning desire. A heady miasma of need.

He couldn't maintain decorum anymore.

With an impatient huff he kicked the tent wall, the flap falling closed.

Pulling his shirt off of his head he dove back into her. Lost in her velvet mouth, the lamb's ear skin of her thighs. All the soft little sounds she was making, sweet bird cries.

His hands pushed under her sleep shirt, gripping onto her plush hips. Pulling her into him with a low moan. Grinding his hard length into her soaked underclothes.

Her head fell back, gasping out choppy breaths.

He could tell she was trying to be quiet and it ignited more flames in his pelvis.

"Do keep your voice down, darling." He teased in her ear. Pushing her sleep shirt up more, cupping her breast.

She leaned forward and ran her tongue up the point of his ear, panting hot.

His eyes hitched back, groaning.

"I thought we were being quiet." She teased.

Evil. Evil woman.

"Oh, you're being nasty again?" He chided, hips rolling of their own accord now.

He was trying to maintain the upper hand here but he was flushed and panting. His purpose narrowed down to getting more, more, more.

"Oh you want nasty?" She purred.

She pulled on the waistband of his leathers, pulling him into her harder. Hips meeting his in time.

"How would you want me if we fucked? Hmm maybe you would bury your cock in my throat and let my sweet tongue lap at your underside till I was gasping."

Oh Gods.

His eyes squeezed shut, hips pistoning into her.

"Mmm, or maybe you'd want me on all fours, my slick greedy cunt taking your cock. Slamming your hips into my ass, seeing it jiggle with your thrusts."

She pulled his hand to her ass to make her point, suckling down on his ear.

He bit back a moan, hand gripping into the round plush flesh of her ass. Panting into her neck, bending her leg out with his. Pulling her open for him.

"Hmm, maybe not those." She hushed into the shell of his ear. "Maybe you want me to lick your nipple, suckling it in my hot tongue. Lave my tongue over your chest until your arching your back so pretty for me."

His breath caught in his throat, cock unbearably hard. Hips stuttering into her.

"Ohh," She smiled, looping a leg around his hip. "That's it."

She pulled down with her leg, his hips melded with hers now.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair she pulled taut, bending his neck open.

He was dangerously close, the hair pull nearly sending him over. Stifling the moan caught in the back of his throat.

"How hard would you shake for me when I fucked my fingers into you? Milking the agonizing pleasure from you. Spilling your spend in gushes on my bouncing tits."

He whimpered, gripping down into her hips and began spilling in thick ropes. Biting down into her shoulder to not cry out. Hard pulsing strikes of near tortuous pleasure. Ripping up through his body with merciless talons.

She held him steady as he shattered over her. Hushing encouragement into his ear.

His eyes had started to water, a lump suddenly in his throat. Startling himself.

He allowed himself one more moment of her warmth before pulling away. Sitting up and facing away from her. Forcing his breath slow and even.

"Hey," Her voice soft, pulling close to him but not touching. "Was that too much? I'm sorry."

"No, you were devine darling. Just needed to catch my breath. You wore me out, you wicked thing."

He held his hand hard to his chest, steadying himself. You're safe. You're here. You're safe.

She was quiet behind him, then planted a soft kiss on the curve of his shoulder, rising up.

"I've overstayed my welcome." She said knowingly. "Sorry. I'll be out of your hair in a second."

He wanted to tell her that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. He actually wanted her to stay, lay in that quiet again. But his body was all sharp edges, bristling.

She slid his shirt back to him and left his tent. "I'll keep my distance from now on, don't worry."

The way she said it, with a certainty of wrongdoing, like accepting a punishment. His heart ached for a moment.

Like she had wronged him.

The sweet thing.

No. No, he would find a way to fix this.

~

Part 2

[rubynationwins]

Soft & Cuddly

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

Synopsis: Bucky is very determined to prolong your cuddle sesh.

Warnings: just some sickly sweet fluff for your perusal, sleepy/needy Bucky, a lil angst in the beginning

A/N: A little drabble to get me out of my writing slump/hiatus I never officially announced😅 oops. Anyway, I hope you all are doing well🥰

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

Bucky loved soft things.

For too long, he’d been subjected to cold and unforgiving environments filled with harsh, unmovable barriers. As the Winter Soldier, his life had been a continuous tirade of concrete, metal, harsh terrain, and a constant threat of danger that kept him from ever truly resting. Until, of course, he was put back on ice - only to be awoken to do the bidding of cold, unforgiving people when the time came. 

So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that now he did everything in his power to surround himself with the opposite of what his previous life had been full of.

Lucky enough for him, you provided all the comfort he desired.

Your bed was soft and littered with fuzzy blankets and stuffed animals. Cushioned rugs that his feet sank into with every step covered the entire floor of your bedroom. Bucky would happily cocoon himself away in your room forever and live out the rest of his day basking in the warmth and coziness of it all.

What Bucky loved most of all, however, was your softness. In fact, the best part of your room was the fact that it you were in it. 

Currently, Bucky was laying in your bed with his head resting in your lap. You were scrolling through your phone, absentmindedly stroking your fingers through his silky locks. Bucky nuzzled into your thigh, his scruffy chin tickling your bare skin. His metal hand sat against your other leg, fingers lazily tracing along your inner thigh. They crested over the dimples that shifted every time you moved, and outlined the intricate stretch marks that interrupted the smooth plains of your body. He wanted to run his hands across all of you, mapping out every divot and line that led to the discovery of you. Bucky breathed in your perfect scent, his eyes drifting shut. He knew he could relax and let his guard down around you, it’s one of the things he cherished most about your relationship.

Your hand stopped its motion. “Bucky?” You gently called out. He simply nuzzled deeper into your lap. You chuckled, “Bucky, you can’t fall asleep there, I have to get up.” You unwrapped your leg that was curled up underneath his head and moved to get out of bed. Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around the outside of your lower hip, ceasing your attempt at escape. 

“Just 10 more minutes doll,” he grumbled against your skin, the sensation sparking butterflies in your stomach.

“Buckyyyyy-“ you whined, fully aware that 10 minutes would turn into an entire afternoon.

“Please?” His plea was so soft, so sweet.

You let out a sigh in defeat, “Fine. Just 10 more minutes. Then I’ve got to get up.”

You felt his satisfied smile against your skin and rolled your eyes. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you cuddled up with him. 30 minutes later you and Bucky were both softly snoring, wrapped in the softness of each other. 

[kysuguru]

first name basis. i think. — geto suguru x fem!reader

synopsis : shoko and utahime encourage you to say geto’s first name. you feel as if your heart is in your throat.

includes / cw : nothing

all mine masterlist

a / n : geto drabble for my “all mine” series while i try to answer a certain solo mission ask

“Try saying his name!” Shoko pushes.

“Geto-san.” you say easily. Shoko groans.

“No! His given name! Say it! It’ll be good practice won’t it?”

Having no social cues whatsoever, you’re ignorant to her and Utahime’s mischievous stunt.

When you quirk a brow, unsure, Utahime is quick to reassure you. “Don’t worry! It really is just practice. You and that bastard are close right? He might let you say his first name.” By the end of her sentence, her lips are curled into a sly grin (you’re so used to her calling Suguru and satoru degrading names that it doesn’t even phase you anymore). She really is getting a kick out of this.

“Saying Geto-san’s given name? T-That is a really big privilege, I can’t even begin to imagine-”

Shoko and Utahime share a glance.

“Well think of it hypothetically then!” Shoko said, as her and Utahime decided to ignore how low you thought of yourself in Suguru’s perspective — if only you knew.

Just as your tongue moves to spell his name, footsteps approach.

All of you turn to see a familiar serene smile. It’s Suguru approaching with a bag in his hand, the sun hitting him at the perfect angle — as if it was created to shine on him. You stare unabashedly.

“Welcome back, Geto-san!” You exclaim happily, eyes bright. his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. You’re stunned into stillness. I love when he smiles like that… Geto-san is really handsome.

“This is the perfect opportunity! Practice it on him!” Utahime pushes you forward and Shoko starts to think that her counterpart is enjoying this a bit too much.

Before you can gather what’s happening, you stumble. Suguru is quick to grab your arm and stand you upright.

“Careful there.” His voice is soft, and you’re hyper aware of the harsh beating in your chest. So close. Is all you can think.

“What is it you need to practice?” He asks, eyes flitting between you three girls. You sweat. You occasionally forgot how good Suguru’s hearing was. Suddenly the ground has more details than it did a few moments ago.

“Oh nothing much, just saying your name is all.”

Suguru’s brows knit.

“I’m confused. She says my name all of the time?”

“Suguru? or Geto?” Shoko asks. Utahime and her have matching sly grins and Suguru briefly wonders if the dread he feels is familiar to the both of them when him and Satoru mess around.

“C’mon, [Name]! Say it!” Utahime drags out her words in anticipation. Both Shoko and Suguru have concluded that she has a sadistic side, if your obvious fluster was anything to go by.

You look up, and meet his gaze. You’re so focused on his dark murky eyes that you miss the small flush of pink that flits across his cheeks at your intense stare.

“Welcome back, Sss….” You blink, furrowing your brows close together as your expression contorts. “Sugu…”

Suguru waits in anticipation, pupils wide and focused on only you. If you were any bit aware of his gaze outside of your dilemma, it would be almost overwhelming.

“W-Welcome back, Geto-san!” You settle with, breaking eye contact immediately as your cheeks deflate from the amount of air they were holding.

Suguru faintly catches the two in the back groan and share an exasperated look before he’s reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “You said that already.” he replies, voice sheepish.

Mission failed.

my taglist is meant for the main story only sorry… it seems like a lot of work for there to be a tag list on my drabbles… sigh

[aphrogeneias]

too close

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: smut (+18). friends with benefits. penetrative sex, anal play, teasing.

Your toes curl in your boots when you feel his fingers trail down your spine.

The soft fabric of the arm of the couch under your tummy digs into your skin, and the cold air coming from the open window is not the only thing making your skin tingle. Eddie is right behind you, the sound of his spiked belt coming undone and his zipper being lowered, the telltale sound of the condom wrapper being ripped with his teeth, going all the way to your aching core.

He runs the tip of his cock over your slit, up and down, and you hold your breath, waiting.

"Ready?"

A weak "mhm" is all that comes out. With it, a harsh slap is delivered to your right ass cheek, making it jiggle on his calloused palm. The moan that leaves your spread lips is not as weak.

"Use your words, angel. Yes or no?"

"Yes, Eddie. Jus' do it, please."

The boy chuckles deep in his chest as he sinks into your wet heat, leaking in anticipation down your thighs. Your hands grab the nearest cushion, and you hear Eddie hiss as you clench around his length, filling you inch by inch as he bottoms out.

“How could I forget how needy you are?”

You don't need to look back to know he's grinning like a devil, temptation incarnate. The divots of his dimples, the thick slope of his neck, his curls falling down his pale shoulders. You don't need to look because if you do, this will be over too soon.

“‘M not needy. You're just a tease.”

“No need to talk back, baby. I'll give you what you want.” He backs it up by grinding his hips into you, still buried to the hilt. You feel him deep inside of you, brushing that spot that has you creaming around him each time.

Each time you end up exactly like this, ending the night bent over his couch, on your back in his bed, and you don't, you're riding him on the front seat of his van when he takes you home.

There's a magnetism between the two of you. You never mean to — his hands, your hands, your bodies gravitate towards each other. Two heavenly bodies in each other's orbit, never too far, drifting too close.

Too close is never close enough.

Not when you spent the whole night side by side on that same couch, your legs over his, your friends unaware of how both of you were counting the minutes until they left and you could finally touch each other the way you crave the most.

Eddie keeps teasing you, stretching you on his cock until he pulls out again, all the way out, and all the way back in. He chuckles again when he hears you huff, impatient. “Tease. I know.”

You hold tight while he builds a punishing pace, drilling into you. Ringed hands holding your hips in place, throbbing inside of you as he drags himself in and out of your inner walls. He smacks the swell of your ass just to hear you moan louder, forcing those sounds out of you.

“Still needy, angel? What do you need more? Need me to make you come?” One of his hands travel higher, spreading you open for him, and you can't help but look back this time. His hair is falling on his face when you look over your shoulder, eyes fixated on the place where your bodies meet.

His thumb comes to press lightly on the tight hole of your ass, not enough to enter, but enough to make you even wetter, your pussy squelching around him. You squeeze your eyes shut at the new sensation. He keeps it there, his other hand squeezing your hip, drawing out a long mewl out of you.

Your head falls back onto the couch, feeling the coil on your lower tummy tightening and tightening. “Yeah. You like that, don't you? Knew you would.”

“Eddie…” You don't care how whiny you sound. “I… I'm…”

The sound of skin slapping against skin, and Eddie's own moans mix with yours. “Let go, angel. I'm right there with you. I'll fuck you in the ass next time, ‘kay? That what you want? But you need to come for me first.”

Your body goes smack against the worn couch as you come, arching your back, craving the heat of his skin against yours. He falls forward, on top of your still trembling body after he follows you down the precipice, and nuzzles his nose on the back of your neck, not caring about your hair.

His weight on top of you, the utter boy of his smell invading your senses. It's good, too good. Too close.

“You're crushing me, Eds.”

All he does is sigh, big and exaggerated, and not move an inch. “You love it.”

He has no idea how much.

[leclucklerc]

Roses and Peonies CL16 - Oneshot

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x kpop idol!reader

Summary: When it was announced that bts will do their military service soon, y/n was scared to be left alone. She's scared that the world that she had known before will change, leaving her drowning in her loneliness. That is until she met a man with warm green eyes and dimpled smile.

Words: 14.2k

Masterlist

It was a beautiful scene. More beautiful that anything that she had ever seen before. 

Of thousands of stars like lights flashing around them. Of the adoring cheers and devotions that’s being thrown towards their way.

Of the love, that they could fell reverberating all across the stadium.

Y/n thinks that she wants to live like this forever. To savor this moment and make sure that it will last until the end of time. Of these beautiful lights and firework. Of these adoring chants and confession of devotions. Of this very moment.

She doesn’t want to forget it.

She wants to make this last.

And then, everything stopped.

.

Honestly, when it was decided that the boys are going to do their mandatory military service, y/n found herself a bit at a loss.

Her family knows it. The members know it. Heck, even the company knows it.

It makes sense after all. She had dedicated more than ten years of her life for the band. All of her youth and early twenties had been solely focused on bts and bts only. To make sure that the band stays together. To make sure, that the band will keep becoming bigger and bigger. Reaching new heights together.

Y/n didn’t regret it. How could she?

After all, those ten years were the highlight of her life. All the bitter memories from her trainee days became something fond to look back to. All of the sweat and tears that she had shed during her days as bts became rows of achievements and beautiful memories. It was amazing, the most beautiful moments of her life.

It almost made her forget that everything in this world will come to an end. The laughs that they shared, the group hugs, as well as the cheers from their fans. A bittersweet feeling always swells up inside of her chest at the mere thought.

Life as a celebrity will only treat you good when you’re still young. That statement is even more true in the idol industry where youth and visuals reign supreme over anything. Even bts – with all of their achievements, all of the things that they had contributed to South Korea – will became the victim of this statement sooner or later. 

Yoongi-oppa had always said that he doesn’t want them to crash landed when they’re at the top. He wants them to land slowly but surely. A safe landing point that marks the end of their career as a musician in the future.

(It’s terrifying. Y/n is scared.)

She knows that there’s nothing forever in this world. And yet, when she realized that the members will be doing their military service soon – leaving y/n alone – she finds herself to be at lost.

“Maybe it’s time for you to find a boyfriend,” said Namjoon-oppa, leaning back on the sofa in front of her. There’s beers and other alcoholic drinks in front of them. She thinks they’re already drunk at this point, but trust Namjoon-oppa to still be able to give her advice despite his own state of drunkenness.

Y/n laughed. “You’re crazy,” she said, nestling his head on one of the many pillows located in the older’s studio. “Dating scandal is a death sentence.”

“We’re already in our 10th year,” shrugged the male. “It would be inhumane if we never experience the joys of love.”

The female fell silent at that. 

She knows that the other members had their own fair share of love story. Discreet ones that they had never dare to publicized. After all, a dating scandal is something major in the South Korean entertainment industry. You can end your career just for falling in love. Even bts, the biggest Asian act that had ever came out in the past decade, is not an exception to that fact. A harsh reality for them who is part of this toxic cycle.

To y/n, she had avoided it like it’s a plague. Her presence in bts had been controversial enough. She doesn’t want people to say that she’s fucking the members – people who are like her own siblings – behind the scenes. There are already enough talks about that. If she ever gets caught up in a dating scandal?

It will not only be the end of her career. But also, bts.

Though, listening Namjoon-oppa tonight, it really seems as if it’s a good idea. She’s already entering her 10th year as an idol. She had many accomplishments, making South Korea proud and breaking records with every release. 

Maybe, just maybe, falling in love with someone is not a death sentence.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for her to learn to live like a human and not the entertainment industry doll.

“Do you really think that that’s a good idea?” she asked after a moment of silence. “I don’t want to inconvenience you or the other members…”

Namjoon-oppa actually let out a laugh at that. “All of us had dated anyone before,” he said, taking a gulp from the alcohol on his glass. “Is that an inconvenience to you?”

“No,” she replied almost immediately, mind recalling all the people that had come and go over the years. Some are celebrities some are not. 

“See?” said the male. “The same thing will also be applied to us.”

Y/n nodded, nursing the glass that she’s holding. She’s still a bit hesitant. Finding love had never been her priority, considering how busy she was. And to make finding love a goal during the band hiatus? Doesn’t it seem to be a bit too shallow?

The other members are preparing their solo album while here she is contemplating if she should date someone or not.

She can already see the media headlines.

Namjoon-oppa seems to have sensed her hesitancy because he decided to speak up again. “I know how you get when you’re feeling lonely, I’m just scared that when all of us leave for military… you won’t have your support system anymore.”

Ouch. 

Though, isn’t that the truth?

Maybe it’s because for more than ten years, she had grown up with people around her. Her close siblings – even though they didn’t share a drop of blood – that had always been there for her. Her personal emotional babysitter. The people that she can always count on.

It seems a bit pathetic that her state of mental wellbeing is relying on 100% to these seven men. But these seven men are her best friends. The people that she’s closest to. Her soulmates.

Her soulmates, that’s going away for months.

“Maybe,” she finally said. “Maybe I will consider it.”

Namjoon-oppa let out a laugh at that. 

.

Y/n l/n debuted under Bighit entertainment when she was 15, going 16.

A wide-eyed half foreign girl in the midst of the glitz and glamor of the kpop industry. A wide eyed and naïve girl being thrusted straight into fake Versace and the harsh entertainment industry without much of a preparation.

To be fair though, y/n thinks that no one can prepare enough things before they debuted.

It was a controversial debut back then. Still is even compared to today’s standard. For a girl to debut in a co-ed group where the remaining members are boys her age. Some had called it inhumane; some had called it insane; some had called it feeding off the female or even the male fantasy.

Even now, critics would always say that bighit is the only company to be ballsy and desperate enough to do that kind of thing. The company that was going bankrupt in 2013 and bet everything that they had to a controversial co-ed group without a clear future.

There are many nasty things being thrown around here and there back then. Insults to degrading remarks. Things that can make any newly debuted group to regret to ever stepped into the entertainment industry. 

Bts initial concept too, didn’t help. Wannabe rappers, fake k-hiphop, weird band name, from the tamest insult to the most vicious ones, they had been called by it.

To y/n though, she would call it family.

After all, bts is the only thing that she could call as normalcy in her life. After her family moved from Italy to South Korea – the country where her mother comes from – she was immediately whisked into the grueling trainee life. She was never good at school to start with, making her job as a trainee her only focus.

It was then when she entered bighit entertainment, a small entertainment company. It was also then, that her life changed when she was being put into the debut lineup almost immediately.

Her life had always been consisted of bts and the members. The first thing that appeared inside of her mind when she starts her day is bts and the last thing that appeared inside of her mind before she went to sleep is bts. Always bts.

Many – even the members – had praised her dedication for the group. Saying that it’s good for her to consider the group as something so important that she puts it on top of her priority list. Y/n could agree on that. After all, she knows nothing but bts in her life. The group itself made her life to have a meaning. It made her to develop a sense of purpose in this world.

To make music.

To make music that can help people.

To make music, that people can lean on to during their hardest time. 

Well, who would’ve thought that bts would become the world biggest group?

Certainly not her.

When bts took off internationally, it had been an almost surreal experience to them. After all, all they want is to win in a fucking Music Bank. Who would've thought that just two years after their first win, they would perform in the VMAs. Who would've thought that they're going to win billboard awards left and right?

And that had only been the start.

Stadium tours, multiple number one albums, multiple number one songs, the most famous people in the world.

Maybe that's why love had never been her priority. Besides the dating scandal thing, she had been way too busy for the past few years. She could barely saw her family, let alone thinking to start a relationship.

It was to the point that y/n genuinely thought that maybe love is just not for her.

That love, is not something that she can attain in this lifetime.

.

The meeting room is almost empty. Way emptier than usual.

Y/n sat there, legs crossed on top of the chair as she stared at her PR manager and manager going through some papers. She could hear some of the interns on the background, murmuring about something with hushed breath.

“Despite the band hiatus,” started her manager. “We’re going to start a lot of solo activity, especially for you.”

She ignored the weird feeling that appeared inside of her chest when she imagined doing her job alone. She ignored the emptiness that spread inside of her as she realized that there will be no more boisterous laughter and weird antics happening on the background.

She ignored the fear that appeared inside of her at the mere thought of being alone.

She ignored all of that as she nodded her head. “Yes,” said the female. “I understand.”

.

At the start of December, she went to Paris.

It’s her first solo schedule. The company told her that she’s going there to shoot promotions and campaigns for Prada. It’s a big deal, as she was set to become their newest global ambassador. After the announcement of their hiatus, many brands had contacted her, offering her the position of global ambassador.

She guesses it was for the fact that she’s not tied exclusively with bts anymore. That in order to sign her, the brands don’t have to sign the band anymore. 

Bitter, she thought as she read the contract over and over. There’s an odd feeling that rose up inside of her chest as she stared at her name. Only her name and devoid of the other members.

Kim Namjoon

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Park Jimin

Kim Taehyung

Y/n L/n

Jeon Jungkook

Only her name. 

She signed it, heart aching inside her chest.

There’s not much going on over the signing of the contract and the shoots itself. She was told on things that she must do and what not. The clothes that she should be wearing during her promotions, as well as the events that she must attend during her stay in Paris.

The event that she’s attending tonight is one of them.

It’s a charity ball meant for the wealthy and famous. The event itself was held to raise money to help the art and sport sector, a good goal if the money will actually be given to struggling artist and athletes, not those who comes from privilege.

But she can’t comment on that.

“A lot of executives will be there,” informed her manager as he draped a jacked over her bare shoulder when they exit their hotel. Flashes of camera immediately appeared as yells and screams could be heard all around them. “Directors, CEOs, star athletes.”

Y/n let out a hum at that, processing that information internally.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the five-star hotel where the event is being held. And as expected, there are so many rich and famous people in the venue. People that y/n had worked with the previous years, people that is working with her, to the people that wants to work with y/n in the future. 

“I saw your billboard near the Louvre, it was phenomenal!”

“I heard that your band is breaking up? If you’re interested my next movie-“

“The met gala is happening in May and-“

She was far too exhausted to plaster a genuine smile. The jet lag catching up to her and all the pent up stress that she had harbor for the past few weeks continue to pile inside of her. So many faces and so many names to remember, it made her dizzy for a bit.

Maybe that what guides her to the bar, desperately searching for a bit of an alone time during the hustle and bustle of the party. She didn’t even remember how many designers and actors had given her their personal contact. No doubt salivating at the thought of finally having y/n l/n work for them, not as a group. But individually.

Manicured nails tapped the bar softly as she watched the bartender made her order. From the corner of her eyes, she could see other people eyeing her, no doubt wanting to make conversation. 

She really should get going from here before-

“Rough night?” asked a voice besides her.

Ah, too late. 

Turning her head, her eyes met warm green ones. A man, maybe around her age, with dark hair and dimpled smile was staring at her. He’s wearing a suit, a clear indicator that he’s also part of the exclusive guest list.

Handsome, thought y/n idly, eyeing the man in front of her. He certainly fit the conventional standard of beauty for men from his large eyes to charming smile. But she’s standing in a room full of celebrities. Everyone is good looking here.

“You can say that” she said, smiling a bit to hide her uneasiness. “I was just a bit overwhelmed.”

The guy laughed at that. “I can certainly relate to that,” he said. She realized there’s a hint of accent on his English.

“Oh, you’re French?” asked the female after realizing.

“Monegasque actually.”

Y/n hummed. “I never met a Monegasque before.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of us around,” he answered cheekily. The bartender appeared, giving her, her drink. “So, what brings you here tonight?”

It was such a cliché line that she almost snorted. There’s no reason to ask what brings her here tonight because it’s the same reason why the guy is even here. It’s obvious that they were invited to this gala in order to make this charity event look more glamorous. To paint them in a better light as someone who likes to donate and gives back to the poor.

“The same reason as you?” said y/n, leaning forward towards the bar. “Trying to find someone who is alone at the bar and flirt with them?” It was supposed to be a sarcastic reason, a sign for the male that she’s not interested.

Though, instead of being offended, he took it as a good humor as another round of laugh erupted from him. “Am I? flirting with you?” he said, tilting his head.

The female stared at him, blinking. “Are you not?” she asked as if she was stating the obvious.

“Well, I am,” he said with a grin. She can’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at that, giving the warm green orbs a more welcoming look. “You have a nice set of eyes; do you know that? I can probably get lost in them.”

That flirting is way too corny and old school that she can’t help the loud laugh that she lets out. The uneasiness that had bubbled on her chest dissipated almost immediately. If her manager is around her, she will probably scold her for that ungraceful manner. “Seriously?” she asked. “Are we playing that kind of game right now?”

“Can’t we?” asked the guy. “It’s fun.”

“Mhm, whatever you say Mr. Casanova,” she said with a hum, heart light. “Don’t you think you should buy me another drink then?”

He shrugged, “I certainly can,” started the guy. “But I don’t want you to drink too much.”

“Why?”

“So that you can remember this conversation and tell your friends that you met an unforgettable guy during this event.”

The laugh that she lets out is more genuine than anything that she had done ever since her arrival at the charity gala. The guy seems to realize this as he too, joined on her laugh.

“I know, it’s bad,” he said. “I’m not the best at flirting.”

“Really?” said y/n. “I would’ve thought otherwise.”

He grinned before thrusting his hand towards her. “Should we start over?” said the male. “My name is Charles.”

She noted the lack of last name. Good. “Y/n,” said the female as she shook his hand. “Pleasure.”

It is a pleasure, because before she knew it, the both of them fell into a deep conversation about music.

Charles seems to be an artist himself, or maybe a huge music fan. He talked about the latest releases to the old ones. The male talked about his co-worker who had a deep love for the 90s rock to his own taste of classical music, even confessing that he had attended numerous concert about it.

Y/n too, talked about music. She talked about how high quality the latest release had been. How there seems to be some kind of trend in the music industry lately. How there seems to be a newer and more talented singer each passing day.

It surprised her a bit, that Charles is a good talker and listener. He seems genuinely interested at what she’s saying, As if she’s not talking about the nerdy side of the music industry. As if she’s not mostly rambling about herself.

The male asked intriguing questions, humming at the appropriate times, and even broaden the subject with his own knowledge.

She didn’t know how long they talked, maybe hours, because the moment she realized that they had been talking too long was the moment when her phone buzzed as a text from her manager appeared.

Ah, thought the female, glancing at the watch that Charles is wearing. I have to go back soon.

There’s a sense of disappointment that appeared inside of her chest when she realized that it was the end of their conversation.

Charles seems to realize her disappointment because he immediately raised his eyebrows, “Something wrong?” he asked, tone full of worry.

“No,” she replied, taking her handbag. “I just realized that I have to go back soon.”

The male probably thought it was weird considering that the gala is going on full swing without a sign of stopping, but well, she has a strict schedule. She has to go to an early photoshoot tomorrow. 

“Let me walk you out then,” said Charles as he straightened up, offering his hand.

Y/n stared at the offering hand, pondering about her decision for a bit before she curled her arm around it. “Okay then.”

The walk towards the exit took longer than expected because there are a lot of people that went to greet them. Designers, directors, fellow musicians. On Charles side, she too recognized a lot of people went to greet him. Though she doesn’t know any of them.

He probably doesn’t work in the entertainment industry then, thought the female.

“Should I drive you back to your hotel?” asked Charles as the both of them exited the ballroom where the charity gala was hosted. It was quiet, a far cry from the loud music and the chatters that had surrounded them previously.

Thinking about the offer, she shook her head, “No,” she replied. “My friend will pick me up.” It’s her manager.

At that, the male look disappointed.

It was at that moment, y/n made a choice that changed the course of her life. She doesn’t know what made her do it. Maybe it’s the pouty look that Charles is giving her or maybe it’s just her lonely self craving for love.

She doesn’t know the exact reason was but-

Inside of her purse, y/n rejected the call from her manager.

“You know what,” started the female. “I really enjoy talking to you.”

“Me too,” replied Charles.

“I heard there’s… a really good place to eat late night snacks around here,” she continues. “Do you want to go there?”

It’s blinding. Charles smile is blinding.

.

They ended up eating a late-night snack that night. It ruined her diet and Charles also confessed that this ruined his own diet too.

Though, the both of them doesn’t seems to care, too engrossed with each other.

Charles continues to give her bad flirting attempts and she too, replied with her own version of flirtation. It was fun. It made her felt a bit free. 

She could feel her phone continue to buzz throughout their late night escapades – certainly from her manager – and y/n decided to ignore it. If she had thought that Charles looks handsome under the dim lighting that the charity event provided, under a proper lighting he looks stunning.

Charles had denied being in the entertainment industry and y/n signed in shame. He could certainly make good money with a face like that.

When the night was ending, she lets Charles to drive her back to her hotel.

They arrived through the back door, a far more discreet entrance where no paparazzi and fans can enter. 

“Thank you for tonight,” she said as the male opened the car door for her. “I really enjoy it.”

“I should be the one saying that,” replied Charles with a large grin.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of them, as if they doesn’t know what to say. Should she say see you later? Or is this a one time thing?

It would be a shame if this is a one time thing. It’s been awhile since she enjoys her night like this. The silence was broken when the male decided to speak up.

“Tomorrow,” started the male, staring directly towards her. “Do you have any plan for dinner?”

Y/n immediately ransacked her brain for tomorrow’s schedule.

“No,” she said. “I’m free for dinner.”

And at that, he reached out for her hand. Y/n didn’t flinch, completely lowering her guard for this man before her. He brought it towards his lips, giving it a small kiss.

“Then,” said the male, smiling. “Have a dinner with me?”

Thump, her heart beats once. Twice.

Thumpthumpthumpthump-

“Yes,” she answered, large grin overtaking her face. “I would love to.”

.

They went on a dinner the next day, in a small quaint restaurant that’s overlooking the Eiffel tower. If y/n was not charmed by that gesture, she would’ve called it cliché, but fuck it. She was definitely charmed by the dinner that they had.

Maybe it’s because of the small gesture that Charles did – opening the car door, holding the door for her, asking what her favorites are. Maybe it’s because the food they’re eating was just good. Maybe it’s because she’s just weak for a candle lit dinner in Paris. 

She really doesn’t know what’s the reason. All she knows is that she didn’t stop smiling throughout the night.

It’s a bit weird but talking with Charles was unexpectedly easy. She found out that he can speaks Italian fluently, making them converse in Italian all night long. He said it was because of his job, making him need to stay in Italy for some part of the year. They talked about various topics. Like their hobbies where she found out that he can play the piano and from what he claimed, he can play it really well.

“You sure about that?” she had teased him. “I also can play the piano really well.”

Charles had laughed at that. “Should we have a piano battle then?”

They talked about their life,

“I was born and raised in Monaco,” said the male. “Though I have to travel a lot because of my job.”

“I was born in Italy,” said y/n. “My family moved to South Korea when I was in elementary school.”

Talked about their favorite food,

“Caprese salad,” he said as he nudged the salad in front of her. “It’s my favorite.”

“I never really liked cucumber,” said the female, grinning a bit stupidly. “Much prefer tomato over it.”

Talked about their favorite things,

"I like flowers, especially peonies," she had said, remembering the peonies that her dad would gave her mom almost weekly. "I will probably become a florist in my next life."

He hummed. "I will probably be a... mechanic?"

Talked about their family,

“I’m an only child,” said y/n. “Though I do have close friends that I thought of as my brothers.”

“Really?” asked Charles. “How long have you guys been friends?”

She pondered a bit. “More or less 10 years maybe? Or eleven and twelve?” 

He chuckled. “I also have friends that I know since primary school,” said the male. “The eight of us.”

“But do you have any siblings?”

“I do have an older and younger brother.”

They talked about everything and yet nothing.

Y/n soon realized that the both of them are avoiding certain topics. Like what their jobs are or topics that could probably disclose more of their identity. Oddly, she found herself really liking it.

She doesn’t even know Charles’s last name. She knows almost everything about him but his identity. She doesn’t know anything about the man that’s laughing and sharing dinner with her tonight.

And yet, she doesn’t seem to mind.

This sense of anonymity gave her a safe blanket. It seems a bit fucked up, but she finds the fact that they’re both not disclosing their identity to each other is a good thing. Maybe it’s the wariness, or how she already got used to not trust people easily.

All she knows is that she likes this. This easy conversation and banter that they share with each other.

If she had thought that the dinner was charming, the stroll that they did around Paris that night is more than charming. There’s just something a bit special to walking around the city of love late at night, laughing and talking with someone that you find attractive.

Charles is really playful, always trying to make her giggle throughout the walk. He would ask her to do a failed rendition of a ballroom dance under a streetlight, or he would tell her about the odd history or even his own funny experiences during his previous trips to Paris.

It’s been a while since she laughed that hard.

That one dinner turned into another and another. It’s been three days since they had dinner together every day.

Y/n found herself surprised at that. After all, she’s used to always not let anyone get too close to her. Too used to guarding her heart too tightly, not letting anyone in easily.

Charles though.

Charles with warm green eyes and dimpled smile.

Charles who had talked about his home in Monaco with a too wide smile and sparkling eyes.

Charles who had told her about his travels all around the world – regaling tales about the many cuisines and cultures that he had experienced.

Charles who had looked at her with so much warmth and made her laugh every night.

It made her want to belief. To believe that the warmth that Charles gave her is true. That all the kindness and loving words that he had directed towards her during these past few days is true. That all of this is not a ploy to just get into her pants or a ploy to leech off her fame.

Maybe it’s okay to open her heart up for a bit. To let this giddy like feeling to consume her as she forgets about all the repercussion this small rendezvous can impact her.

To let herself enjoy the wonders of love for the first time.

Please, she had thought as they once again stroll around Paris late at night. If this is a dream, don’t wake me up.

“Hey,” she called out, catching his attention. “I was wondering.”

“Hm?” hummed the male as he kissed their interlocked hands. “What is it, chérie?” 

Looking around, y/n turned towards the male. “I was wondering how you even knew so many streets with so few people?” she asked. “Like I’ve been wondering how we even avoided meeting so many people during our stroll?”

She had thought walking around in Paris a bit risky. There are far too many people that knew her and far too many paparazzi dying to know an inside scoop about her personal life. Though, oddly, these past few days, they hardly met any people during their walk. 

The female had been suspicious at first, glancing at Charles with doubts on her face. Though, the male acted as if there’s nothing wrong. It seems, the male knew the reason.

Charles fell silent at that. 

Y/n thought that she had hit a landmine. That her question is something a bit too personal to him. Immediately, she backtracked. “I mean-!” she started. “I mean if you don’t want to answer is okay! Like I’m pretty sure you’re not a serial killer or anything because you haven’t killed me these past few days- I’m not calling you a killer though!”

The male stared at her; amusement clear on his eyes as she continues to fumble around.

“What I want to say is,” she finally said, stressing out the word. “If you don’t want to answer it’s okay.”

Charles let out a laugh at that, almost making her stumble with how violent his shoulder shook. “Ah, I can’t believe the girl that I had flirted with – heavily I must add – for the past few days really thinks I’m a serial killer.”

“I’m not saying that!” hissed out y/n, pouting a bit. “Did you miss the bit when I said I’m pretty sure that you’re not a serial killer?”

“No, no, no, I heard that alright,” he said, grinning as one of his hands pulled her cheek a bit. “Mignonne.” Cute.

“Stop doing that!”

Charles didn’t stop and his grin merely getting wider. “I’m glad though,” he said as he untangled their hands so that now both of his hands are now pinching her cheeks. “That we established the fact that I’m not a killer.”

Y/n glared at him, hands flying up to hold the hands that’s on her cheek. “Whatever,” she said. “Forget that I even asked.”

The asshole let out a louder laugh at that. “Don’t pout,” he said as he tugged her lips upward. “It’s not a good look on your pretty face, chérie.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “I still look pretty,”

“True.”

“Okay! Don’t distract me with your flirting,” said y/n, huffing. “Are you going to answer my question or not? Because it’s perfectly fine if you don’t.”

“Well,” started the male, still cradling her face as his thumb brushed the apple of her cheek. “I have a… good answer to that.”

“Really?” asked y/n as she released the man’s hands from her cheek, holding it together with her hand as she looked up to him. “You want to tell me?”

He looks a bit hesitant at that. As if he’s debating something inside of his head. She didn’t know what kind of internal mental turmoil that he’s having with himself, though by the end of it, he looks more determined than before.

“I guess you can say it’s because of my job?” said Charles, tilting his head a bit. “I… tend to get recognized a lot.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow at that. “So… you’re famous?”

“In a certain circle, kind of?”

“Huh,” said the female, processing the information a bit. They got that in common then. She’s also famous in certain circles. “And are you comfortable enough to tell me what your job is?”

Charles bit his lips. “I’m… you know, Charles Leclerc.”

Y/n blinked.

“Charles Leclerc?” she repeated, and he nodded. “Leclerc? Is that your family name?”

The male stared at her. “You don’t know me?”

“… Should i?”

“No, no, obviously,” interjected Charles with a small laugh, hand waving around. “It’s just that you went into that charity ball and all, so I thought you will be familiar with my name.”

She tried to remember the event that they both had attended a few days ago. The charity ball that was meant for the art and sports industry.

Charles, obviously, is not from the entertainment industry. Or he could be? Like a producer or director maybe? Y/n is not that familiar with the acting side of the entertainment industry after all. 

Or he could be from the sports industry. Looking at his body- yeah. Athlete.

“Ah,” said the female. “You’re an athlete?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Some would say that I’m not, but I like to think that I am an athlète.”

Oh.

“That’s why I didn’t recognize you,” she said, wonder clear on her eyes. “I’m not really that familiar with athletes – sorry – except the ones that’s representing my country and stuff… or like the popular ones like Messi or Ronaldo-“

“Are you telling me I’m not popular?” teased the male. 

“That’s not the point,” she huffed out with a frown and Charles laughed at that. “And I know you must be a popular athlete, you said it yourself,” continue the female. “A bit narcistic but okay.”

“It’s good to have confidence in my line of work.”

Y/n pondered a bit. Should she? It felt a bit unfair to Charles if y/n didn’t say anything about her. He trusted her enough to tell her about his identity after all.

Does she trust Charles though?

She should be terrified how fast a ‘yes’ appeared inside of her mind.

Will he change? will the sweet Charles that she had known these past few days will be gone when he realized who she is. How famous she is. How beneficial it will be for him to continue this... relationship with her.

Again, she should be terrified how fast a 'no' appeared inside of her mind. As if she had trusted this man in front of her her whole life.

“Me too, I guess,” said the female after a while. 

“What?” he asked, humor evident on his tone. “Are you also famous?”

“In certain circles, kind of?” she said, repeating his words from before.

Charles let out a huff of laugh before he grabbed her hands and practically dragged her to one of the benches near them. From here, they’re overlooking the Seine River and she could even see the Eiffel tower in the distance. A bit cliché, but at the same time, y/n loves it a bit too much.

“Should I start?” asked the male, fiddling with her hand. “On confessing about our deepest and darkest secret.”

She giggled. “Sure Romeo, you can start.”

“I’m a driver, racing driver,” he said.

And oh, that’s not bad. Y/n was expecting something much worse. Like a sport that she’s not completely familiar with or know even exist. “In what? Nascar?”

“Formula One, I drive for Ferrari.”

Y/n may have never any interest in racing, but she knows Ferrari. Her father is a big fan of Ferrari when she was little and from what she knows, had followed it almost religiously. She also knows that Formula One is practically the biggest and the most famous racing category right now. To drive for Ferrari in Formula One-

“You’re not lying when you said you were famous,” she said instead.

“Glad that we established that,” he said, amused. “What about you?”

“I’m… a singer, you can say,” she started. “Or an Idol, if you want to use the proper term.”

Charles scrunched his eyebrows. “Idol?”

“You know Kpop?”

“Ah,”

There’s silence between the two of them after that. Charles still playing with her hand and y/n still leaning her weight on his shoulder.

“Does this change anything?” she asked.

“No,” replied Charles almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

She let out a breath that she didn’t even knew she was holding. “Good,” she said. “I like this.”

Charles released her hand before he curled his hand around her shoulder. “Me too,” he said.

.

The predestined one, that’s what they’re calling Charles.

The one that will bring back the championship to Ferrari.

The one that was destined to bring back the glory to Ferrari. 

The sea of red and the Ferrari flags waving with the wind as he passed the checkered flag in Monza. The chants, of him bringing back the championship, that people screamed on top of their lungs every time the male appeared. 

It was fascinating to see the extent of Charles’s popularity. When the male said that he was famous in certain circles, he was really humbling himself down. Because she knows, she knows when someone gave you this kind of devotion, this kind of love, it means that their love for you is more than genuine.

She doesn’t know how many videos of Charles she had watched that night. From his amazing start in 2022 season until his final standings. From his recent races to some fan’s compilation about the male over the years. Hours must have passed because the next thing she knows it’s already bright out there.

Her manager seems to realize her lack of sleep because he had ordered the makeup artist to add an extra concealer for the spot under her eyes. Though, the older didn’t probed more regarding the reason.

Y/n thinks that her manager can already guess the reason. 

“Do you enjoy your late-night rendezvous?” asked the older man.

Looking up from her phone, she raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a problem, right?” asked y/n.

The older male shook his head. “It’s not, as long as you’re being discreet for the time being,” said the male. “We can talk again if you ever want to make your… relationship… public.”

A public relationship. What a terrifying thought.

“We’re still in the talking stage, nothing that serious,” said the female. 

“It is if your partner is Charles Leclerc,” replied her manager. She could see he’s staring at Charles’s Instagram page. “Formula One may not be that big in Korea, but it’s huge all around the world.”

She knows that. She knows how loved Charles is by the people. 

A sea of red. Of Ferrari’s flag waving with the wind. Of screams full of devotion and reverence.

She knows.

“I know,” said y/n, leaning back on her seat. “I’ll talk to you and the company later if our relationship became more… serious.”

“Good,” said the older with a nod. “Now should we review your schedule once again?”

.

Charles is holding a bouquet of roses when she met him that day.

“Ah,” she said, smiling. “For me?”

“Of course,” he grinned as he handed her the flowers. “I just realized I never gave you any flowers, decided to fix that.”

Y/n let out a giggle at that, holding the flowers close to her chest. “We met barely one week ago,” she said.

The male merely shrugged, “One week too late then?” he said. "I can't find any peonies, but I hope roses are a good replacement."

She’s not flustered. She’s not-

The heat radiating from her cheek tells otherwise.

They’re meeting during the day today. It felt a bit scandalous, considering all of their previous meeting had always been late at night.

Though, seeing Charles under the sun is a bit too tempting to missed out. 

The private room that they book had a balcony overlooking Champs-Élysées, a beautiful sight that took her breath away. Charles had told her that a friend of his had recommended this place to him, saying that it’s a good place to have a date as it served enough privacy for them.

Y/n’s heart beats a bit faster when the male casually mentioned that yes, this is a date.

“So, you’re going back tomorrow?” asked the male.

She nodded. “You too right?” asked y/n. “My flight is early in the morning, what about yours?”

“It’s at twelve,” he replied. “Do you want me to drive you to the airport?”

The female laughed at that. “I think I have too many luggage to fit in your Ferrari.”

“You can ask your manager to bring your luggage and I’ll drive you to the airport,” said Charles, as he reached out, intertwining their hands together. “I just thought… we don’t know when can we meet each other again.”

That’s true.

This situationship between the two of them, she doesn’t know if it will last after Paris. She doesn’t know if she can do a long distance… situationship… or if Charles even willing to do that. This date, could be the last date between the two of them.

She hates it.

She hates the mere thought of it.

“Hey,” started the female. “Do you want to continue this?”

Charles stared at her. “I do,” he answered. “What about you?”

“Me too.”

A smile bloomed on his face. “I’m glad,” he said. “I… was afraid that you doesn’t want to continue this… relationship.”

“I don’t know if this will work,” she started, holding his hand tighter. “I don’t even know how this will even work, honestly,” she said again. “We came from two different world, our job demands us to always travel around, and we don’t live in the same country but-“

She stopped.

She thinks, she will regret it forever if she left Charles here. 

She thinks, romance is not something for her if she doesn’t pursue this relationship.

“I would like to try,” finished the female. “I would love to try and see how this relationship will work.”

Y/n thinks a weight had been lifted from her shoulder as she said that. As if, an invisible baggage has been lifted.

The breathtaking smile that appeared on Charles face made her think that she had decided on the correct decision.

“Me too,” said the male. “Let’s do our best, okay?”

They laughed.

.

Charles did drive her to the airport the next day.

It was a blessing that she will be flying private, because the hug and the kiss that Charles gave to her forehead will surely be the headline of every tabloids if someone ever posted it.

.

Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she could remember everything so vividly.

Of days that was spent on the road. Of the hours spent on an airplane as they flew all across the world. Stadiums to stadiums. From one continent to another. Of thousands of fans cheering their name, repeating words full of love and devotions.

She could always remember it. The big plan that they had prepared as a thank you gift for the fans before the boys will do their military service. Of the countless of hours and so much love that they had devoted in those plans. Something that is full of promise. Things, that can close the first chapter of their career with a bang.

But of course, fate, had never been on their side.

When the pandemic hits and the world went into lockdown, it also means the end of all of their plans. 

Y/n always regrets it. The way they close the first chapter of their career. She just felt that they didn’t gave the fans enough closure of preparations. That they didn’t give them enough devotion to repay back all of their love.

While it’s true they held a free concert for their fans – albeit a bit of a controversial one – she felt that it’s just not enough. They should’ve done more. They should’ve given them more promise that they will be back soon. That bts will not be disbanding and soon they will reunite once again as a group.

But alas, time continue to pass and so it the inevitable.

.

In the middle of December, Jin-oppa went into the military.

It was a cold day. She knows that the training will be harsh and cold. Jin-oppa doesn’t like the cold. She doesn’t like Jin-oppa leaving her like this. Y/n did try to not cry, she really did. But alas, the dam broke, and she went full on sobbing as she clutched the older male tightly.

The oldest member merely laughed, teasing her like usual as he patted her hair. As if he’s not going to leave her. As if, they’re in the middle of their normal banter and not in the middle of a military base.

“Be a good girl okay, n/n?” laughed the oldest member of bts. “Don’t be a brat with Jungkook and listen to the other members well.”

She let out a wet hiccup at that.

“Aigoo,” laughed Hobi-oppa as he slung an arm around her. “Our little n/n is crying because her brothers are going to the military?”

“All of you are so mean,” she grumbled, and she can already imagine the reaction from the fans when today’s Bangtanbomb will be released. “Leaving me all alone here.”

Jin-oppa smiled cheekily at that, grabbing her cheeks. “Don’t be dramatic y/n-ah,” he said with a large grin on his face. “You have other friends besides us, and we’ll still talk on our groupchat.”

“But it’s different from seeing you.”

It’s different because there is no Jin-oppa arriving at her house late at night with a bag full of fried chicken. It’s different because there is no Jin-oppa who always laughed and teased her during dance practice. It’s different because there is no Jin-oppa who always bugs her during vocal lessons, joking with that dry humor of his.

It’s different, because Jin-oppa is only the start.

(All of them will leave her soon.)

They parted soon after that, the members leaving Jin-oppa to say goodbye to his family. All of them continue to linger there, watching the older line up amidst other new recruits. She has to admit he looked good and comfortable there. It seems all the preparation that he did beforehand became useful.

As the entrance ceremony came to an end, they said goodbye to Jin-oppa’s family.

“Wanna eat something?” said Jimin-oppa as all of them walked towards the parking lot. “There’s a new restaurant in Gangnam that’s famous for their Japanese food.”

Y/n made a noncommittal noise at that as the other members agreed on that suggestion. Her eyes trained towards her phone.

Her heart did beat a bit faster than normal.

“Who are you texting?”

“No one,” replied y/n almost immediately, shutting off her phone as she directed her attention towards the other member who are staring at her. They had arrived at the Japanese restaurant a short while ago, immediately being ushered towards one of the private rooms. “Seriously.”

Jungkook, the one who asked the first question, quirked an eyebrow at that. “Really?” he probed further. “Because you were smiling dumbly.”

She hit his shoulder. “Rude,” she hissed out.

“Y/n met a guy in Paris,” informed Namjoon-oppa in a true traitorous manner as he casually looked up from his phone. As if he didn’t just betray her absolute trust towards him. “She’s been texting him nonstop since then.”

“Oppa-!” she screeched out.

“Oh?” said Taehyung-oppa, slinging an arm around her shoulder as a teasing glint appeared on his eyes. “Our little sister finally enjoying the beautiful world of romance?”

“Jungkook is younger than me! Stop treating me as if I’m the youngest!”

“But I’m more mature than you though?” piped up Jungkook.

“No no, let’s go back to our main topic,” interjected Jimin-oppa with a knowing grin on his face. “So, y/n finally met a guy? In Paris no less?”

Hobi-oppa laughed at that. “Sounds romantic,” he said, amusement clear on his tone. “Someone we know of?”

“No,” she said with a pout. “He’s not in the entertainment industry.”

The other members raised an eyebrow at that. “How did you even met then?” asked Yoongi-oppa, leaning forward towards the table. “He’s not someone sketchy right? I know this will be your first relationship but don’t meet someone that’s not good-“

“He’s a good guy! Really!” said the female, face red from embarrassment. She can’t believe she’s having this conversation right now. After all, she had only met Charles last week, it’s not like they’re going to get married soon or anything! “I know he didn’t approach me just to… you know, leech off of my fame.”

“And how do you know that?” asked Namjoon-oppa. All of them went quiet when the door to the private room was opened as the waiter gave them their orders. The leader of the group only continues when the waiter left the room. “I know I’m the one that’s encouraging you to get a boyfriend, but I also want you to meet a good guy.”

“He- he doesn’t know me,” said y/n, remembering the look on Charles’s face when they both revealed each other jobs. “Really. I also didn’t even know of him, or even his last name back then.”

Yoongi-oppa raised an eyebrow at that. “So, he’s someone famous?”

“Well, kinda? In certain circles?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” interjected Hobi-oppa. “Didn’t Namjoon told us that you spent the week hanging out with him in Paris?”

“Yes?”

“And back then you didn’t even know his last name?”

“… Yes?”

“Wow,” marveled Hobi-oppa. “It’s a wonder that you didn’t get killed.”

Jimin-oppa actually hits Hobi-oppa’s shoulder at that.

.

When they arrived back at the company, a red-faced secretary appeared in front of them.

“Y/n-sshi?” called out the woman, catching her attention.

Perking up, she gave her a small smile. “Yeah?” she said as her manager beckoned closer. She could see the rest of the members raising their eyebrows, also stopping on their track as they watched one half of their youngest member being called up. “Do you need something?”

“There’s a delivery for you,” said the woman. “It’s um-“

“Is it a fan gift?” asked her manager. “You know we’re not accepting fan gifts anymore.”

“No, no, no,” denied the woman with a frantic wave of her hands. “It’s a bit big but the managerial office did approve it! They said that it was given by y/n-sshi’s friend!”

And that made her raised an eyebrow. Her friend? She could count her friends with her hands. And knowing them, all of them are not the type of people that would send gifts to her office, and not her directly.

Though that train of thoughts stopped when another man appeared, holding the so-called gift.

It’s a bouquet. A large bouquet of peonies was being held by someone from the managerial office. It’s so big that it’s clear the man is struggling to hold the flower as he walked towards them. Y/n was thankful that they’re already in Bighit floor because she’s sure that her surprised face looked incredibly stupid.

Immediately, one thing came inside her mind.

Charles.

The conversation that they had during their dinner appeared inside of her head. Of her blabbering about her favorite things, peonies being one of them.

“It’s not even in season,” she breathed out, though she’s sure that there’s a large smile appearing on her face as she went to received the flowers. There’s a note in the middle of with English words being written on it. It says-

“Keep smiling for me, from Char, love emoji and a smiling face” reads out Namjoon-oppa as he appeared next to her, startling her. There’s a teasing smile on his face as he turned his attention to her. “Huh, this is actually really romantic.”

“Oppa!” she whined out, trying to hide the note from his prying eyes. “It’s rude to read it like that!”

“But we’re dying to know!” said Hobi-oppa as he slung an arm around her shoulder and peered towards the bouquet of peonies she’s holding. “Oh, so this is from your mysterious man?”

Y/n wants to die. She’s so embarrassed that she’s sure her face is flushed like a boiled seafood at this point.

“Char? Who is that?” asked Yoongi-oppa as he too approached them, staring at the flowers with a narrowed eyes. “The guy you’re seeing?”

“Char sounds like a foreigner name,” piped up Taehyung-oppa.

“It could be Kim Char,” said Jungkook, chiming in. 

“Kim Char sounds stupid,” interjected Jimin-oppa with a frown.

She really wants to hide in a hole as the other members began teasing her and the so-called Char.

Though, she really can’t deny the warm feeling that appeared inside of her chest. He knows that she’s really close with the members. He knows how important the members are to her. He knows, that if one of them are leaving, she will be incredibly sad.

It’s the small things. The small gestures that always made her heart beats uncontrollably. 

Doesn’t this mean that he also thinks about her? As much as how she’s always thinking about him? Doesn’t this mean that Charles wants to take their relationship a step further?

Warm smile and green eyes.

Dinners and late-night stroll in Paris.

Bouquet of roses and flushed faces.

Hands, intertwining together, and a conversation full of confessions.

This should scare her. This feeling that slowly started to bubble inside of her. This feeling that should not be subjected to a man that she had just met a few weeks ago. A man that should’ve been a stranger to her.

But romance always work in a mysterious way. 

Ah, she thought. Incredibly giddy. I really really like him.

Nearing the end of December, Charles invited her for a ski trip with his friends.

She accepted, of course. Despite all of her nervousness, all of her overthinking, she still decided that it’s a great idea to be there. After all, Charles asked her to come. He had invited her to have a glimpse of his world. To introduce her to his friends and letting her in inside of his social circle.

It was nerve wrecking, especially after the realization of her feelings. 

When she realized that she likes Charles – too much, too overwhelming – y/n almost went into a denial phase. After all, she had never felt something like this before. She had never allowed anyone to reach her heart this closely before. To realize that there’s someone in her heart-

It’s scary.

She doesn’t know what to do.

Both her and Charles still haven’t talked about their relationship. She knows that she really likes the male, and she knows that Charles probably also likes her. But they never talked about… whatever this was between the two of them.

This easy relationship between them. Where they both openly flirt with each other. Where Charles sent her flowers almost every day since they day they separated in Paris. This relationship where she felt comfortable to talked about everything and yet nothing to the male.

This relationship, where she decided to open her heart to a male with warm green eyes and large dimpled smile.

Maybe that’s why this trip seems important to her. She doesn’t want to lose this relationship after all. She doesn’t want his friends to not like her because they seem important to Charles. She wants them to see that both her and Charles are meant to be. 

Despite the sunny smile and the hug that she received from Charles as she landed in Monaco, one glance towards his group of friends made her want to hide in a ditch somewhere. Charles had talked about them. The group of friends that he had been friends since forever. Almost like how bangtan is to her. All of them are guys, though some did bring their significant others, promising her girls company during the trip. 

During that trip she met his younger brother for the first time, Arthur Leclerc. He’s three years younger than them with brown hair – lighter than his brother – and a huge smile. Just like Charles, he’s also a racing driver who is competing in the lower category right now.

“It’s good to finally meet the girl that my brother talked about nonstop,” was the greeting that Arthur gave her when they first met.

Y/n pretended that it doesn’t make her flustered. 

As time went by, she must admit that the trip was fun. Y/n’s nervousness about giving them a good first impression seems unfounded as all of them welcomed her with an open arm. Some of the girls even giggled and whispered to her that they’re a fan, surprising her greatly. A lot of them seems fascinated by her job, saying things that it’s not every day that they’ll see a kpop artist hanging out with them.

The trip itself seems like a good idea. They had played boardgames together, enjoying the snow, and other activities. Y/n found herself enjoying every minute of it. Until today that is.

“No,” she said, hand shivering – not from the cold for once. “Charles, seriously, I can’t do this.”

Charles let out a laugh, hands gripped her own gloved ones. “Believe in me, chérie,” he said, standing beside her. “It’s not that scary, look at Arthur.”

And of course, Arthur is in front of them, gliding through the snow easily.

“I never went skiing before!” she yelped, flinching back at the mere thought of having to go down the steep mountain with these thin pieces of wood. “I’ll seriously die!”

“No, you’re not,” said Charles with a laugh. “You’re too pretty to die, and I’ll guide you.”

“Are you a professional at skiing?”

“Well, no-“

“Then you don’t have the qualification!”

If possible, he only laughed harder. Somehow finding amusement in her own state of panic. She wants to call him an asshole, but at the same time, Charles is the only thing that’s making sure that she will not tumble forward into the thick snow in front of them.

“Just follow me, three, two-“

“No!”

Charles, who had inched forward, was immediately yanked back by y/n who had surged backwards in pure instinct. The male didn’t expect it, making them tumbled backwards into the heaps of snow.

They landed in a bit of an awkward position. With y/n sprawled across the snow and Charles being practically on top of her, hand caging the female to prevent him to stumbled down towards her. It was an awkward and uncomfortable position, and yet, they didn't made any move to get out from that position.

Both of their eyes met as they stared at each other. Breath mingling with each other.

There was silence between them, as they processed what had just happened. Though, it was soon broken when they both let out a snort and began laughing with each other.

“Hi,” whispered Charles, face so so close. “You, okay?”

She wants to kiss him, she realized as she stared at him. The male looked breathtaking. There is snow on his darker locks, clinging and hanging for dear life. His eyes crinkled from how large his smile is.

Her hand grabbed the side of his face, almost unconsciously. Charles seems a bit surprised at that, though it didn’t take long for him to nuzzle on her gloved hand before giving her palm a kiss.

Thump, her heart beats once. Twice. 

Thumpthumpthump-

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “Doesn’t mean I’ll try skiing again though.”

It was also during that ski trip that she asked Charles what they are.

Maybe it was because what happened earlier. Maybe it’s just her inpatient self. Maybe it’s just her wanting some sense of validation. 

The both of them are sitting on the porch of their rented villa, hot chocolates on their hand. In the distant, she could hear the loud laughs and screams from their friends, no doubt enjoying the snow together. Both her and Charles had decided to retire early, far too worked up from the drama that y/n had made over skiing and how the male had basically force her to try it.

It didn’t work, leaving them sitting here as they watched the scenery together.

“Hey,” she called out, gaining his attention. “This thing between us… what are we?”

She could see the moment Charles wanting to answer something stupid like a ‘table’ considering there is a small table between the two of them right now. Though, her raised eyebrows seems to deter that intention.

“Well,” started the male, leaning back on his chair. “To start, I really like what’s going on between us.”

“Me too,” agreed the female as she curled her legs towards her chest. “I really like this.”

Charles chuckled at that, hand snaking towards the back of her chair before curling around her shoulder. “What do you want?” he asked. “I’ll follow whatever you want, I know your line of work doesn’t really accept dating but I…” trailed off the male, “I just want you to know that I never had these kinds of feelings with anyone before.”

It’s the same for me, she wants to say. I never felt something like this before.

(“I want you to experience the joy of love, even just once,” said Namjoon-oppa one night. “I think that’s one of the reasons that made us human. To be able love and being loved by others.”

Y/n had stared at him with eyes full of doubt. “Are you sure?” she had asked. “With our line of work, I think that love will only be an inconvenience.”

The male had laughed, patting the top of her head. “You have to experience it yourself to know it, n/n.”)

Maybe this is what Namjoon-oppa meant. 

The grip that she had around her chocolate burns, though she really doesn’t care.

Why should she care when Charles is staring at her as if she’s the answer to all of his problems? Why should she care when Charles is staring at her as if the world revolves around her? Why should she care when her heart beats almost erratically – far too fast than usual -?

Why should she care when she’s sure that she shares the same feeling as Charles?

“I…” she started, staring at those warm warm green eyes. “I want us to date,” said the female finally. “Make it official.”

“Yeah?” grinned Charles as he leaned closer. “I also really like that.”

She hummed, cheeks flushed and heart far too loud on her ears.

“Hey, chérie?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Her world stopped. 

Thump, her heart beats once. Twice.

Thumpthumpthumpthump-

E/c meet Charles’s warm green ones. Looking at him this closely, it was as if she could map out the constellation that’s peppering his face. How his long eyelashes perfectly framed his eyes and how his breath almost mingled with hers-

“Yes,” she whispered out.

The first kiss that they shared tasted like chocolate and peppermint.

The first of many.

.

Video calls had become a norm in their relationship.

Every day, without fail, they would call each other. Most of the time it was when Charles is finishing up his morning workout and she’s having her lunch. Sometimes it’s when Charles just went home – late at night – and y/n had just woken up from her sleep.

It’s nice, to be able to see his face and hear his voice every day.

When they’re not calling each other, the texts between them had become almost unstoppable. Y/n thinks the reason for that was because right now – during this point of time – the both of them are on their respective off season. Charles is having his winter break before the next season starts, and while y/n is preparing her solo debut, it’s not as actively as the other members who have a closer deadline compared to hers.

Despite only being limited to calls and texts, y/n finds herself really enjoying it. There’s just something about being woken up not by an alarm or her manager but by a call from Charles. Or there’s just something about seeing Charles after he had just finishing up his morning workout.

She will literally kill someone to be able to experience all those things directly.

“You’re still chatting with the guy?” 

Closing the messenger app, she turned her head towards Taehyung-oppa who’s sitting next to her. Feet stretched and hands curled around the pillow on her lap.

“Yeah,” she said with a hum. “And I told you already, we’re dating now.”

The older chuckled at that. “My bad,” he said with a grin. “It’s a bit weird to think that the girl that always follows me and Jimin around now dating someone,” at this, his tone turned a bit dramatic. “My baby really grew up~”

She snorted at that. “You’re saying the same exact thing to Jungkook.”

“The both of you are my babies though,” said the male. “Anyway, are you going to meet him soon?”

Nodding, she showed him something on her phone. It’s a plane ticket, one way trip to Italy. “We’re going to meet up in Italy in January, before pre-season testing starts.”

“Cool,” replied the older man. “You said he’s a racing driver?”

“F1 driver,” she corrected as she shifted her attention towards the tv that had become, more or less, a background noise for the both of them.

They’re sitting inside bts artist lounge in HYBE, a room dedicated solely for them. She had been eternally grateful when the company made this room. After all, despite everything, a lot of the younger celebrities can’t relax when they’re in the same room with them.

“Why the sudden questions?” she asked, cocking her eyebrow together.

“Well,” started Taehyung-oppa. “You know how I went filming that new variety show in Mexico?”

Y/n nodded. 

“My co-stars asked for your number,” he blurted out. “They’ve been asking for a while, to be honest. But they did become more persistent when it was announced that we’re having a group hiatus for a while.”

She fell silent at that.

Bts group hiatus had changed a lot of things, be it professionally or personally. More brands had approached her for their advertisements and campaigns, realizing that for the next few years, she wouldn’t be tied with bts as a group. Even collaborations, dramas, or even variety shows, had contacted HYBE for a chance of collaboration with her.

The female knows that the same thing also happened to the boys. More chance to do solo work, more chance to branch out of bts – the very thing that had become their life for the past years.

In a more personal manner, well-

Somehow, many had interpreted their hiatus as their disbandment. That this is the end of them as a group. That there is no way for them to reunite once again under bts. Which means many people had tried to get to know her more… personally.

She had enough discreet confessions and veiled flirtation during her time as an idol to last a lifetime. Somehow, those kinds of things increased dramatically now.

“You know my answer to that,” she chuckled weakly. “It’s like dating the best friends of your brother, weird,” continued the female.

“I know, I know,” waved of Taehyung-oppa. 

A lot of things are changing, and she never felt so scared before.

.

She greeted Charles with a hug as he descended from the private plane.

“Hey,” said y/n, releasing the hug. Though, she could still feel Charles’s hand still curling around her waist. “Welcome to Korea,”

The male let out a laugh. “Such a warm welcome,” he teased.

Y/n rolled her eyes at that, still grinning, before she grabbed her hand and immediately drag him to the privacy of her car.

When Charles said that he wants to visit Korea, y/n immediately had everything prepared. From places to visit to foods that they should try together. Before this, she never realized how fun arranging a trip is.

For obvious reason, they can’t go to the popular places like Everland or other amusement parks. Museums though, is still an option. Charles had shown interest in arts and things like that, so y/n had asked Namjoon-oppa recommendations about museums that they should visit.

Besides museums, she had also dragged him to all of her favorite restaurants. Restaurants that only local knows. From the authentic Korean foods to fusions with western influences. She’s glad that Charles is not afraid to try different kind of food, though the expression on his face when he saw a still moving octopus on his plate is a bit too funny to not be recorded. 

Despite its being a short trip, she had taken so many photos of Charles. There’s one from Jeju Island, there’s one with him holding a bts album, there’s also one when he fell asleep on her bed.

It warms her heart, to see her boyfriend inside her house.

It warms her heart so much that that photo became her lockscreen.

.

A team from Cartier had come to South Korea to shoot a campaign with her.

They had marveled and exclaimed, patting her skin with makeup as they talked in rapid French and English.

“Dearie,” said one of them, painted lips smiling widely. “You’re glowing, more so than when I saw you in Paris.”

She hummed at that.

Paris felt like a lifetime ago. So many things had happened that she almost lost track of time. “You think so?” she asked with an easy smile. “Do I look better?”

“Of course,” said another as she clasped a diamond necklace on her neck. “You look amazing, dear.”

Y/n laughed at that. “You give me too much praise.”

“No, no, no,” said the woman. “I’m telling you the truth here!”

“Of course, of course,” she answered easily. “So, what kind of glow do I emit?”

“You look like a woman in love.”

Her heart almost stopped at that.

Love.

Isn’t it far too soon?

Isn’t she falling in love far too easily?

“Really?” asked the female, trying to not show her wavering voice. “Do I really look like a woman in love?”

“Yes,” breathed out the woman. “A woman, who had fell in love deeply.”

Maybe I am.

.

She went to Italy late January.

The first thing that appeared inside her mind when she arrived to Maranello is, obviously, Ferrari. From her hotel room with bright red walls and a picture of a Ferrari Formula One car team hanging everywhere, to the prancing horse statues that she sees everywhere in the town.

It seems, the team is the pride and joy of the town, she thought as she watched the Ferrari flag hanging from the building as she made her way to the city center. Which is good, because this means that no one will recognize a random kpop idol in the middle of this formula one obsessed city.

Charles is the star here. Every time he appeared, every time he went into town, everyone would crowd around him. 

“Charles!” yelled one of them in Italian when both y/n and Charles is having lunch. “You did good last season!”

The male laughed, yelling a “Thank you!” towards the other.

It happened so many times that she almost lost count. It’s clear that he’s adored and loved. Though, to see how loved he is, is a bit surprising.

“You’re so famous,” she said as she entered their hotel room. “It’s amazing to see.”

He hugs her from behind, wrapping his arm around her torso tightly. “It’s a bit weird for you to say that” he said, a bit muffled on her neck. “You have like 50 million followers, chérie.”

“Followers doesn’t mean everything,” she laughed, as they moved towards the balcony on their room.

From here, they could see the city of Maranello almost at its entirety. Something that she surely will remember when she went back to Korea. 

Charles had released his hold over her, entering their room before appearing besides her with two glasses of wine. He handed one of them towards her without a word.

“My name is going to be here one day,” said Charles, hand circling around her shoulder. “In one of the streets.”

Y/n nuzzled further towards the crook of his neck. “Is that a Ferrari driver privilege?” she asked.

“No, it’s Ferrari’s world champion privilege,” said the male with a grin. “I’m going to win it.”

She let out a hum at that. The way Charles phrased that statement is not ‘if I win it’ but ‘I’m going to win it’. It’s so full of conviction and truth. He truly believes that one day, he will win the championship under Ferrari.

“You really love Ferrari,” she stated, looking up towards him. 

Charles looked down, one hand coming to her face to pinch her cheek softly. “It’s my dream team,” he said. “All my life- it’s always the red car for me. I remember watching the grand prix from my friend balcony and all I could see it the red car winning the races.”

His dedication to his team is inspiring. The way he talked about Ferrari, it was as if he’s talking about his family. There’s a certain shine on his eyes as he rambled about his races and how great the car that they had last season. 

It almost reminded her of her own team. 

Devotion. That’s what she could feel from Charles. He had devoted his life for Ferrari. He had made his mind – and she knows that the male is a really stubborn guy – that he will win with Ferrari. That he will prove his nickname as the predestined one to be true. To bring back, the championship to Ferrari.

After all, when you win with Ferrari, you became legend.

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “And when you win your first championship, I will be there, cheering for you.”

The smile that Charles gave her is almost blinding.

.

“Do you think making our relationship public a good idea?”

Y/n stared at him, unable to answer.

She doesn’t know.

.

Surprisingly, Hybe doesn’t object her decision to make her relationship public.

“You’re in your tenth year already,” said PD-nim as the older male ate his dinner in front of her. “And this kind of things… didn’t we promise all of you that we will give you full reign over it?”

She tightened the grip on her chopstick.

Because what the male said is the truth. In order to make sure that all of them can do their reunion in 2025, they had decided to renew the contract with HYBE. Full reign over their artistic directory and personal life is one of the clause.

Still, even though HYBE gave her their permission, y/n can’t help but second doubting that decision.

Dating scandal is a taboo. It could ruin her career. It could ruin bts’s career. The stigma of her sleeping around with her members would grow once again. People would talk. How she’s a slut. How she’s only dating rich men.

It could be the end of her.

“I don’t think you should worry much,” said Jimin-oppa as she asked him about his opinion. “You should belief in our fans, not random online trolls.”

And the thing is- yes. She believes on their fans.

She knows that ARMY wants her to be happy.

She knows that ARMY won’t turn their back on her over these kinds of things.

But still, it’s only normal for her to be a bit nervous at this kind of things. She’s going to share a huge part of her life after all. The first one to ever publicized her relationship in bts.

Scary.

So so scary.

“We’re going to put up the announcement tomorrow if you’re sure with this,” said her manager, showing the already written announcement. “There will be backlash, obviously, but I think this decision will be healthier for you.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I know.”

“This can also be the start of a movement, y/n,” said the male. “It’s about time for the Korean entertainment industry to get rid of the dating taboo. Idols are human. They’re not some machine and dolls that the public can control. They deserve to love and to be loved.”

Idols are not dolls.

It’s normal for them to crave a romantic relationship.

“You are the biggest celebrity in South Korea,” continue her manager. “With you publicly announcing your relationship, we can change the industry to have a better culture around idols.”

And,

And isn’t that what bts stands for?

They want to change the culture in the South Korean entertainment industry. They want to break all of the stigma that everyone has over idols. They want to make a better working environment for the idols in this industry.

Less abuse.

Less control.

More freedom.

They want idols to have more power over their company and the public. They want idols to have their own hold over their life. They want idols to be able to live like an actual human being. To know things and to be able to experience normal emotions that they never had felt before.

They, want to change this industry. 

With that, she steeled her nerve one last time. 

“Yes,” she finally said. “Let’s announce it to the world.”

Hello this is Bighit Music

This is an official statement regarding Y/n L/n, one of the artist under HYBE labels.

Recently, Y/n had entered a romantic relationship with a close friend of hers, Charles Leclerc. They are maintaining a serious relationship.

Please show lots of support so they can continue this beautiful relationship.

Thank you.

Truth to be told, when Charles first started a conversation with the pretty girl on the bar, he was not expecting anything besides a quick hookup or maybe a mere short conversation.

While it’s true that she’s beautiful – probably the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen – he doesn’t have any plan to pursue her. He was so sure that he’s not looking for any relationship. The sting of finishing second on the championship after completely dominating the first few races had still annoyed him greatly. Charles was determined that for the next season he will only focus on his racing career and the battle for the title of world champion.

That is, until the woman smiled at him.

He had never been a believer of love at first sight. He had always thought that love is something that you need to nurture. Something that you should put a lot of effort in. He had believed that love is not something spontaneous. It was not something that struck you all of the sudden in the middle of an overpriced celebrity exclusive charity gala.

Though, what does Charles know about love anyway?

When the woman let out that bright grin – eyes crinkling, and eyebrows raising a bit – he felt as if his world became a brighter. That all of the sudden the loud music around them became quiet and the only thing that he could focused on is her and only her. 

As if, there is no burden of the Ferrari legacy on his shoulder. As if, he haven't let down the tifosi these past few years. As if, the sting of coming second place in the driver championship had been nonexistent.

Throughout the night as they continue to converse, he can’t help but follow each of her movement. The way that she will twirl her hair around her finger when she got nervous, the way her long nails gripped the glass, the way her painted lips would stretch into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen as she laughed and converse with him.

They talked about everything and yet nothing. From his horrible attempt of flirting to her decision to drink alone in the middle of the event. He could see the glances that was being thrown around towards them, a blatant show of them being interested on their conversation.

When the night was over, he was half in love already. Giving her his name and number is a no brainer.

Honestly, he was not expecting her to response to his offer for dinner. They didn’t know anything about each other after all. Though another part of him is trying to convince himself that that’s what having a dinner for. To get to know each other.

He had stared at his phone for a long time, glancing at it every couple of minutes until his manager reprimanded him about being distracted. That is until she responded, saying that she would love to have a dinner with him.

The few days where they had dinner together is the highlight of his trip to Paris. Which is a bit funny because he doesn’t even want to come to Paris at first – citing about medias and promoting brands that he had never even used before. Though in the end, he had been grateful at his decision to come.

Meeting y/n, had changed his world.

It was as if, his previously monotone world is now being filled with color. As if, before he met this woman, he never truly knows what living means.

It’s crazy how much he enjoys being in her presence. How much he loves to make her laugh and to show him sides that she had never allowed anyone else to see. 

It’s crazy, how fast he’s falling in love with her.

“Are you serious with her?” asked Pierre when they met in Monaco. “Because dating her will bring a lot of media attention. This isn’t like your previous relationship, Char.”

He knows.

He knows that there’s a lot of risk from dating her. From dating such a high profile star like her. He knows all of that. If Charles is a smarter man, he would’ve ran. If Charles is a smarter man, he would stop all of his advances towards her. If Charles is a smarter man-

Y/n lets out a laugh.

It's the most beautiful thing in the world.

Well.

Charles had always been stupid, isn’t he?

Spending time with her is addicting. It was as if he wants to spend every second of her life with her. As if he’s ready to commit-

The skiing trip had been blissful. He had felt that him and y/n had grown closer and closer. The kiss that they shared during the trip also helps the giddy feeling that always erupted inside of his chest every time he thinks about her.

I’m in love with her, he thinks. I’m in love with her, he wants to scream so that the world knows his feelings.

It’s addicting. He thinks this feeling will never fade.

 He thought that there is no way he can love her more than now, though, as he saw her walking in the paddock, wind brushing her hair as she stood there inside the Ferrari garage-

Yes, he thought. I want to spend my life with her.

.

Going to a Formula One race is not something that she really had thought of before.

Her dad is a big fan though. When she was a kid and before her family moved to South Korea, her dad used to take their family to watch the Italian Grand Prix every year. Back then, she was not that interested – to the dismay of her father – and then as she grew up, she got way too busy to even think about the sport anymore.

At last, until today.

The loud sound of the engine reverberated throughout the track. 

Y/n could feel the tense atmosphere that engulfed the Ferrari garage. All of them watching the screen with nervousness clear on their face.

Charles is leading the race with a red bull hot on his tail.

She doesn’t know that she will be this invested on watching fast cars going in circles, but this is Charles. This is the love of her life riding the fast cars going in circles.

There are a lot of hushed whispers, people commenting and watching the race with a bated breath. The sky is dark, only making the bright light around the track a bit more intimidating.

“Do you think he’ll win?” she asked Fred, the team principal of Ferrari. He had welcomed y/n with an open arm earlier. It seems that he’s delighted by the attention that y/n had brought to the team. “I’m- I’m really nervous.”

“If he keep this pace,” started the older man. “I’m positive that he will take the win.”

("I'm going to be a world champion," said Charles, tone full of confidence. He's sure of that. He's sure, that someday, he will bring back the championship to Ferrari.

And y/n wants to believe.)

It’s really nerve wrecking to see the last few laps. After all, from what she knows, the Red Bull that’s chasing Charles is last year championship winner, Max Verstappen. Charles had also said that there’s an ongoing intense rivalry between him and Max. A rivalry that had spanned across their childhoods up until now. 

Their rivalry had been compared to the greats of Formula One. Niki Lauda and James Hunt. Senna and Prost.

Leclerc and Verstappen.

It meant a lot to Charles. He had confessed that he had been chasing Max's back for years. To desperately prove to everyone that Charles is too, a once in a generation talent. That he too, will be one of the greats in Formula One.

This time, it's Max chasing Charles.

She can only breathed out a chocked sob when Charles entering his last lap, still leading the race. 

“Oh my god,” she said as the Ferrari team ran out of the garage. “Oh my god!”

She watched as Charles takes the win.

It was a celebration that he had only ever watched through the screen. A sea of red. Ferrari flags waving from the wind. Words full of adoration and reverence.

Charles, who had climbed out of his car and standing on top of it, pointing towards the sky as he shouted out his happiness.

"YES!" he had screamed, joy clear on his face and on his voice. "YESS!"

Y/n chocked out a sob.

He really won the first race of the season. An amazing way to start the season. A season that meant so much to him.

She stood there, amongst the crowd of red as she stared at her boyfriend being hugged by his team. Soon, his attention drifted towards her, and an even larger grin appeared on his face.

“You did it,” she whispered out as she hugged him. He let out a a loud laugh at that. “That was amazing-“

The female didn’t finish her words as Charles cut it as he pressed their lips together. She could feel countless cameras and eyes directed towards them as whoops and hollers appeared all around them.

She will be scolded by her manager.

The company will call her after this.

Though, she seems to not care about all of that at this moment.

“I love you,” he breathed out as their lips parted.

Grin still wide and a bit teary eyed, she lets out. “I love you, too.”

It’s safe to say that their fans broke the internet shortly after.

End

[pretty-circa006]

Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out." 

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned. 

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere. 

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table. 

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson. 

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could. 

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies. 

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips. 

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.  

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact. 

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out. 

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid. 

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch. 

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him. 

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.  

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy. 

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to  grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked. 

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded. 

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!" 

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to. 

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass. 

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder. 

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll." 

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter. 

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny. 

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned." 

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything. 

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲