#hits different x new romantics

[illbeoutofthewoods]

Let me introduce you to this BANGER

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball. 

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."  

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?” 

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[lewisvinga]

fashion help | charles leclerc x fem! reader x alexandra saint mleux !

summary; how charles, y/n, and alexandra came to be all because of y/n wanting to help a clueless charles in a mall

warnings; ?? none i think

word count; 635

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; requested !

masterlist !

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“Alex! These are cute too, no?” Y/n questioned as she ran over to a pink dress and a matching red one beside it. The couple were searching for a matching outfit for an art exhibit event which led them to the large department store in Monaco to find outfits.

“These are quite cute, amor.” Alexandra quietly says. One hand was interlocked with her girlfriends and the other ran down the fabric of the dress. “The fabric isn’t the greatest but-“

She turned to look at Y/n but she was seemingly distracted, staring at the men’s side of the department store.

“Why is he grabbing those blue pants? They’re hideous.”

Alexandra followed where Y/n was staring and saw a confused brunette looking through the racks of clothing. He held up a pair of patterned blue pants which the Art student had to admit was hideous.

“Maybe he’s shopping for a friend?”

“Then I have to help him! If someone gifted me those pants I’d be offended.”

“Y/n, no-“ Before She could finish her sentence, Y/n was already walking towards him.

Alexandra loved her girlfriend, she truly did. She just hated sometimes how extroverted she was and was willing to go up to a stranger to tell him about his poor fashion choices. She hesitantly shuffled behind. She was already preparing to apologize to her girlfriend when she suddenly heard the mystery man thank her.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. My friends always say I’m bad at this.” He says with a chuckle, causing both Alexandra’s and Y/n’s hearts to skip a beat. “But thank you. I didn’t quite catch your name?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my girlfriend, Alexandra.”

“Charles, it is a pleasure to meet you both.” He smiled as he shook their hands. Any other man would’ve probably been shocked at Alexandra and Y/n’s relationship, which was common because men always hit on them, but Charles was different.

Both girls were bisexual, so they weren’t new to romantic feelings towards the opposite sex. But they had been dating for a few months and only had feelings for each other. Until the confused-looking Monegasque caught both of their attention. Even Charles felt intrigued, noticing how Alexandra stared at him or how Y/n’s touch lingered for a second too long when shaking his hand.

There was a tension that fell over the three of them and neither could quite decipher what it was. Y/n cleared her throat after a few seconds of silence had passed.

“Good thing Alex and I have good fashion taste.” She said with a smile. With one hand she holds onto Alexandra’s hand and with the other she grabs Charles. “Now, looking at you, I think these would fit well.”

Her girlfriend gave the Monegasque a look before they both laughed at Y/n’s enthusiasm about what pants style and what color looked best on him.

Hours had passed by the time the girls finished picking out a whole new wardrobe for Charles, although it felt like it was just a few minutes.

“I’ve got to thank you both. I really do appreciate the help.” Charles said with a smile, the three of them walking out of the store with bags in hand.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I’m a fashion major so this is kind of my thing.” Y/n said with a smile.

“She just really likes to help people.” Alexandra nudged her girlfriend’s side as she chuckled.

“Are you two busy?” Charles suddenly asked, “I’d like to treat you both to lunch as a thank you.” He wore a hopeful smile as the two girls shared a glance.

Y/n being the most straightforward one, linked one arm with Alexandra and the other with Charles. “Well, lead the way!” She exclaimed with a laugh and the rest was history.

[stllmnstr]

champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

note: another reupload!! hope this hopeless romantic college boyfriend jake hits just as good the second time around. happy reading ♡

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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness. 

Scratch that – thirty minutes. 

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives. 

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up. 

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing. 

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it. 

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness. 

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book. 

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing. 

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second. 

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment. 

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date. 

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up. 

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her. 

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard. 

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure. 

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine. 

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it. 

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time. 

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm. 

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit. 

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course. 

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now. 

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated. 

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door. 

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance. 

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one. 

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID. 

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother. 

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you. 

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be. 

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs.  And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home. 

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about. 

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line. 

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always. 

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.” 

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily. 

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out. 

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files. 

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage. 

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack. 

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door. 

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number. 

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine  every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently. 

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan. 

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with. 

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. 

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful. 

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding? 

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom. 

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger. 

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way. 

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long. 

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.” 

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out. 

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine. 

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute.  And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away. 

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger. 

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips. 

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.  

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms. 

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes. 

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it. 

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–” 

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking?  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.  

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of  a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along  as you drag him with you. I am so fucked. 

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless. 

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before. 

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down. 

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone. 

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend.  “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing. 

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number. 

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all. 

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true. 

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library. 

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror. 

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder. 

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop. 

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him. 

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you. 

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him. 

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare. 

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving. 

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.  

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace. 

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right. 

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall. 

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks. 

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace. 

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake. 

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser. 

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment. 

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company. 

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house. 

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university. 

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system. 

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst. 

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be. 

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges. 

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob. 

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.  

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all. 

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically. 

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom. 

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too. 

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.  

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants. 

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library. 

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter. 

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence. 

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax. 

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice. 

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.” 

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute. 

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides. 

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one. 

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now. 

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes. 

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer. 

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line. 

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.  

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it. 

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom. 

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.  

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight. 

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer. 

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim. 

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be. 

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one. 

An overwhelming sense of  self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else. 

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment. 

As you get closer, their words become more audible. 

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it. 

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him. 

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire. 

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this. 

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease. 

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is. 

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good. 

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over. 

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. 

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.” 

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it. 

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier. 

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.  

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine. 

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.  

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face. 

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant. 

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window. 

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace. 

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being. 

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.  

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey. 

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough. 

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault. 

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.  

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production. 

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for. 

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation. 

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices. 

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you. 

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there. 

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.  

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do. 

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath. 

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely. 

James Sim. 

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him. 

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker. 

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name. 

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed. 

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments. 

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs. 

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card. 

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced. 

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him. 

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well. 

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable. 

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles. 

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother. 

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read. 

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious. 

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles. 

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.” 

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes. 

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers. 

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother. 

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter. 

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you. 

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations. 

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it. 

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions. 

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there. 

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout? 

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus. 

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance. 

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.” 

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.” 

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have. 

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being. 

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom. 

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else. 

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening. 

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut. 

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless. 

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror. 

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :) 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

PART TWO IS UP AND LINKED ON MY MASTERLIST!

note: thank you for reading!! this is the version I had saved in my docs and it should be identical to what was posted before but in case there are any slight differences, that's why. I also sometimes make the fatal mistake of doing small grammatical edits in tumblr itself, so please excuse any minor errors as I didn't do a read through this time around. as always, I love to hear any thoughts you may have!

[bratzkoo]

skin | joshua

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: university student! joshua x university student! reader Genre: angst, fluff Rating: PG-15 Word count: 7.3k Warnings/note: inspired by sabrina carpenter's skin and olivia rodrigo's driver's license. joshua hong is the loml. bit of a long read.

summary: you’re doing great with your boyfriend of 5 months but when his ex drops a podcast talking about their past relationship and indirectly mentions you, your relationship takes on challenges you don’t know if you can handle.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -​

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

You never expected to fall in love in college, let alone with someone like Hong Joshua. As one of the most popular students at your university, you were used to attention, but Joshua was different. He saw beyond your carefully curated image, past the smiles and the social ease, right to the core of who you were.

Your relationship started slowly, tentatively. Coffee dates that turned into long walks around campus, stolen glances during lectures, and late-night study sessions that had more to do with learning each other than any subject material. You remembered the first time you really noticed him, in your shared Literature class. He was sitting two rows ahead, his dark hair slightly tousled, completely engrossed in the professor's lecture on romantic poetry.

As you watched him scribble notes furiously, his brow furrowed in concentration, you felt a strange flutter in your chest. It wasn't just that he was handsome – though he undeniably was – but there was something about the intensity of his focus, the way he seemed to lose himself in the words, that drew you in.

After class, you found yourself lingering, pretending to organize your bag as you watched him from the corner of your eye. To your surprise, he approached you, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than you expected. "I'm Joshua. I've seen you around campus, but I don't think we've officially met."

You introduced yourself, trying to ignore the way your heart raced as he shook your hand. His touch was warm, his grip firm but gentle.

"I was wondering," he continued, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice, "if you'd like to grab coffee sometime? I could use a study partner for the upcoming exam, and you always seem to have great insights in class."

You found yourself nodding before you even fully processed his words. "I'd love to," you replied, surprised by how steady your voice sounded despite the butterflies in your stomach.

That first coffee date turned into two, then three, then countless more. You discovered that Joshua was not just handsome and smart, but also kind, funny, and surprisingly vulnerable. He told you about his dreams of becoming a singer, how he'd spend hours practicing in the shower or humming melodies under his breath.

"My parents want me to have a 'practical' career," he confided one evening, as you sat together on a bench overlooking the campus lake. "But music... it's like breathing to me. I can't imagine my life without it."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Then don't give it up," you said softly. "You have an amazing voice, Joshua. The world deserves to hear it."

He looked at you then, his eyes shining with something that made your breath catch in your throat. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you replied, and the smile he gave you in return was brighter than any star in the sky.

Before you knew it, five months had passed, and you were head over heels. Joshua had become not just your boyfriend, but your best friend, your confidant, your rock. He was the first person you wanted to share good news with, the one you turned to when you were feeling down.

One particularly memorable evening, you and Joshua strolled across campus, your fingers intertwined. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn, and the setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. You couldn't help but smile as you caught him humming softly under his breath – a habit you'd grown to adore over the past five months.

"What's that song?" you asked, nudging him playfully.

Joshua's cheeks flushed slightly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "Oh, just something I've been working on. It's not ready yet."

You squeezed his hand encouragingly, your heart swelling with affection. "I'm sure it's beautiful. You know I love hearing you sing."

His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and something deeper – a vulnerability that both thrilled and scared you. "Maybe I'll play it for you someday," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you approached the campus coffee shop, a group of girls whispered and giggled, their eyes fixed on Joshua. You were used to this by now – being with one of the most popular guys on campus came with its share of attention. But Joshua seemed oblivious, his focus solely on you.

Inside the coffee shop, as you waited for your orders, you noticed Joshua's gaze drift to a couple in the corner. A flicker of emotion – was it sadness? – crossed his face before he quickly looked away.

"Joshua?" you probed gently, concern creeping into your voice. "Is everything okay?"

He plastered on a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course. Just thinking about that assignment for Professor Kim's class."

You knew he was deflecting, but you didn't push. There was still so much about Joshua's past that remained a mystery to you. You'd learned early on that he was intensely private about certain aspects of his life, particularly his romantic history. Whenever you tried to broach the subject of past relationships, he'd change the topic or gently steer the conversation in a different direction.

You noticed that all the pictures on his social media only went back about a year, as if his life before that had been carefully erased. It was as though he was trying to start fresh, to reinvent himself. Part of you was curious, even a little worried about what he might be hiding. But another part of you trusted him implicitly, believing that if it was important, he'd tell you when he was ready.

"Don't worry about the past," he'd tell you whenever you hinted at wanting to know more, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're my present and my future."

And for a while, that was enough. The way Joshua looked at you, the way he held you, the way he seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them – it all made you feel cherished, loved in a way you'd never experienced before. You told yourself that everyone had a past, and what mattered was the here and now.

But there were moments, fleeting and rare, when you'd catch a shadow pass over Joshua's face. A song on the radio would make him go quiet, or a certain scent would cause him to tense up momentarily. In those moments, you felt the weight of his unspoken history, and you couldn't help but wonder about the ghosts that still seemed to haunt him.

Despite these occasional moments of uncertainty, your relationship with Joshua continued to blossom. You fell into a comfortable rhythm, your lives intertwining in a way that felt both exciting and incredibly natural. Joshua became a fixture in your apartment, his textbooks mingling with yours on your desk, his hoodie draped over your chair.

Your friends teased you good-naturedly about how inseparable you'd become. "It's like you two are joined at the hip," your housemate Anna would say, rolling her eyes but smiling affectionately.

You couldn't deny it. Being with Joshua felt right in a way you couldn't quite explain. It was as if you'd found a piece of yourself you didn't even know was missing.

One night, as you lay tangled together on your bed, Joshua trailing lazy kisses along your collarbone, you felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"Joshua," you whispered, your voice thick with feeling.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense in the dim light. "Yeah?"

"I... I love you," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You'd never said it before, had been too scared of the vulnerability it implied. But in that moment, with Joshua's arms around you and his heartbeat steady against your chest, you couldn't hold it back any longer.

For a moment, Joshua went very still, and you felt a flicker of panic. Had you said it too soon? But then his face broke into the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you too," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "God, Y/N, I love you so much."

He kissed you then, pouring all his feelings into it, and you felt as though your heart might burst from happiness.

It was in moments like these that you forgot about the mysteries in Joshua's past, about the sadness that sometimes lingered in his eyes. All that mattered was the love you shared, the future you were building together.

But life, as you were about to learn, had a way of bringing the past crashing into the present when you least expected it.

-

It was an ordinary Friday when your world turned upside down. You were walking across campus, hand in hand with Joshua, discussing your plans for the weekend. The air was buzzing with the usual energy of students eager for the week to end, but something felt off. You noticed people staring more than usual, whispers following in your wake.

"Is it just me," you said to Joshua, trying to keep your voice light, "or are people acting weird today?"

Joshua frowned, his eyes scanning the faces around you. "Yeah, something's definitely up. But I have no idea what."

It wasn't until you got to class that you found out. Your best friend, Ela, pulled you aside before you could take your seat, her face a mask of concern.

"Have you heard the podcast?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

You blinked, confused. "What podcast?"

Ela bit her lip, then pulled out her phone. "It's gone viral on campus. Everyone's talking about it. I... I think you need to hear this."

As she pressed play, a soft voice filled the air. "I thought he was my forever," the voice said, tinged with sadness. "He promised me the world, promised me eternity. But I guess forever has an expiration date."

Your heart sank as you listened, a cold dread settling in your stomach. The girl on the podcast never mentioned names, but the details were too specific to be coincidence. She talked about a boy who loved to sing, who had a smile that could melt hearts, who dreamed of becoming a performer.

She talked about Joshua. Your Joshua.

"And now he has a new girlfriend," the voice continued, a hint of bitterness creeping in. "She's everything I'm not. She’s popular, I saw her pictures and she’s so beautiful and she smiles pretty, and she has a lot of friends, and I bet she can parallel park. Everything I was always insecure about."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. This was Joshua's ex, laying bare all the pain and heartbreak for the world to hear. And in doing so, she'd inadvertently put a target on your back.

"Ela," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "how many people have heard this?"

Your friend's expression was grim. "It's everywhere, Y/N. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok... people are reposting it like crazy."

You closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "Does... does Joshua know?"

"I don't think so," Ela replied. "At least, not yet. But Y/N... you need to talk to him. This is going to blow up, and fast."

You nodded, feeling numb. "I will. After class. I just... I need a moment to process this."

But as you sat through the lecture, you couldn't focus on a single word the professor said. Your mind was racing, replaying every moment with Joshua, every conversation, every tender look. Had it all been a lie? Was he still in love with his ex? And why hadn't he told you about her?

As soon as class ended, you rushed out, your heart pounding. You needed to find Joshua, to hear his side of the story. But as you stepped into the hallway, you were met with a sea of stares and whispers.

"That's her," you heard someone say. "The new girlfriend."

"I can't believe she'd do that to Yunha," another voice chimed in. "They were so perfect together."

You pushed through the crowd, fighting back tears. This couldn't be happening. It felt like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from.

You found Joshua outside the music building, his face pale and drawn. When he saw you, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and fear.

"Y/N," he said, reaching for you. "I can explain-"

But before he could say another word, you felt your world tilt on its axis. The stress, the shock, and the emotional turmoil of the day caught up with you all at once. Your vision blurred, your legs gave out, and the last thing you heard was Joshua calling your name as darkness enveloped you.

When you woke up, you were in the campus infirmary, the harsh fluorescent lights making you squint. Joshua was by your side, holding your hand, his face etched with worry.

"Hey," he said softly as your eyes fluttered open. "How are you feeling?"

You tried to sit up, wincing at the throbbing in your head. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Joshua explained, helping you into a sitting position. "The nurse said it was probably due to stress and low blood sugar. You've been out for about an hour."

As the fog in your mind cleared, the events of the day came rushing back. The podcast, the whispers, the revelations about Joshua's past. You pulled your hand away from his, suddenly feeling like you were touching a stranger.

"Joshua," you said, your voice hoarse, "we need to talk about the podcast."

He closed his eyes, pain etched across his features. "I know. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I should have told you about Yunha, about our history. I just... I thought if I could just start fresh, leave all that in the past, it wouldn't matter anymore."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. "But it does matter, Joshua. It matters because now the whole campus thinks I'm some kind of homewrecker. It matters because you kept this huge part of your life from me. How am I supposed to trust you after this?"

Joshua reached for your hand again, and this time you let him take it. "I know I messed up," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But Y/N, you have to believe me when I say that what I feel for you is real. More real than anything I've ever felt before."

You wanted to believe him. God knows, how you wanted to believe him. But the doubt had taken root, and you couldn't shake the feeling that everything you thought you knew about your relationship had been built on a foundation of lies.

"I need time," you said finally, pulling your hand away. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

The look of hurt on Joshua's face made your heart ache, but you knew you needed space to sort out your feelings. He nodded, standing up slowly.

"Of course," he said softly. "Take all the time you need. Just... please don't shut me out completely. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

As he left the infirmary, you felt a piece of your heart go with him. But you also felt a resolve hardening within you. You needed answers, and you were determined to get them – no matter how painful they might be.

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you, hear the whispers behind your back. People you thought were friends suddenly became cold and distant. Your Instagram, once filled with supportive comments and likes, became a battleground of hate and accusations.

"Home wrecker," one comment read. "How does it feel to steal someone else's happiness?"

Another was even more vicious: "You don't deserve him. Yunha and Joshua were soulmates. You're just a pretty distraction."

You tried to brush it off, to hold your head high, but each comment felt like a dagger to your heart. Even worse was the way some of your so-called friends began to distance themselves, afraid of being associated with the scandal.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," your classmate Hoshi said awkwardly one day after class. "It's just... people are talking, you know? And my girlfriend thinks maybe we shouldn't hang out so much anymore."

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral even as you felt another piece of your world crumbling. "It's fine, Hoshi. I understand."

But you didn't understand. Not really. How could people be so quick to judge, so eager to believe the worst about you without even knowing the full story?

You threw yourself into your studies, spending long hours in the library, trying to drown out the whispers and stares with the comforting rustle of pages and the scratch of your pen. But even in the quiet sanctuary of the stacks, you couldn't escape the weight of judgment that seemed to follow you everywhere.

One evening, as you were poring over your textbooks, you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, you saw Anna, your roommate, hovering uncertainly.

"Hey," she said softly, sliding into the chair across from you. "I've been worried about you. You've barely been in the room lately."

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just been busy with studying."

Anna reached out, gently closing your book. "Y/N, talk to me. Please. I know things have been rough, but I'm still your friend. I want to help."

Something in her tone, the genuine concern in her eyes, made the walls you'd built up over the past weeks crumble. Before you knew it, you were sobbing quietly, your shoulders shaking as Anna moved to wrap her arms around you.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered between sobs. "Everything's such a mess. I love Joshua, I really do, but how can I trust him after this? And everyone on campus hates me for something I didn't even do."

Anna stroked your hair soothingly. "Not everyone hates you, Y/N. The people who matter know you're not the person they're making you out to be. And as for Joshua... have you talked to him since that day?"

You shook your head. "I've been avoiding him. I just... I don't know what to say."

"Maybe it's time you did," Anna suggested gently. "You can't run from this forever. And who knows? Maybe hearing his side of the story will help you make sense of things."

You knew she was right, but the thought of facing Joshua, of reopening the wounds that were just starting to scab over, made your stomach churn with anxiety.

"I'll think about it," you promised, wiping your eyes. "Thanks, Anna. For being here, for not judging me."

She squeezed your hand. "That's what friends are for. And Y/N? Remember, this will pass. It might not feel like it now, but it will. You're stronger than you think."

Her words stayed with you as you packed up your books and made your way back to your apartment. The campus was quiet, most students already settled in for the night. As you walked, you found yourself thinking about Joshua, wondering what he was doing, if he was struggling as much as you were.

Almost without realizing it, your feet had carried you to his dorm building. You stood there for a long moment, debating whether to go in or turn back. Finally, taking a deep breath, you made your decision.

The walk to Joshua's room felt both endless and far too short. Before you were ready, you found yourself standing in front of his door, your heart pounding. You raised your hand to knock, then hesitated. What if he wasn't alone? What if he didn't want to see you?

But before you could talk yourself out of it, the door swung open. Joshua stood there, looking as surprised to see you as you were to suddenly be face-to-face with him. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, his hair messy as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"Y/N," he breathed, his eyes wide. "I... what are you doing here?"

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "I think... I think it's time we talked."

Joshua nodded, stepping back to let you in. His room was a mess, clothes strewn about, empty coffee cups littering his desk. It was so unlike the usually tidy Joshua that it made your heart ache.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, hurriedly clearing some books off his bed so you could sit. "I haven't been... I mean, things have been..."

"Rough?" you supplied, and he nodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"Yeah. Rough."

You sat on the edge of his bed, and he took the chair at his desk, leaving a careful distance between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with all the things left unsaid.

Finally, you took a deep breath. "Joshua, I need to know the truth. All of it. About Yunha, about your relationship, about why you never told me."

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "I know I owe you an explanation. I just... I don't know where to start."

"The beginning," you said softly. "Start at the beginning."

And so he did. He told you about meeting Yunha in high school, how they'd bonded over their shared love of music. How their relationship had started as a friendship and slowly blossomed into something more.

"She was my first love," Joshua admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I really thought we'd be together forever. We had all these plans, you know? We were going to go to the same college, pursue our dreams together."

"What changed?" you asked, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy you felt at the obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of Yunha.

Joshua's expression darkened. "Life changed. I got accepted here on a music scholarship, but Yunha... she didn't get in. We tried long-distance for a while, but it was hard. We were both changing, growing in different directions. And then..."

He trailed off, looking away. You waited, your heart pounding.

"And then?" you prompted gently.

Joshua took a shaky breath. "And then I met you. And everything changed again. I didn't mean for it to happen, Y/N. I wasn't looking to fall in love. But being with you... it felt right in a way nothing ever had before. It scared me how quickly and deeply I fell for you."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes. "So what happened with Yunha?"

"I broke up with her," Joshua said, his voice heavy with regret. "Over the phone. God, I was such a coward. I told her I couldn't do the long-distance thing anymore, that we were growing apart. But the truth is, I was already falling for you, even if I hadn't admitted it to myself yet."

The pieces were starting to fall into place, but there was still one thing you didn't understand. "Why didn't you tell me about her, Joshua? Why keep it a secret?"

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and pleading. "Because I was afraid. Afraid that if you knew about Yunha, about how badly I'd hurt her, you wouldn't want to be with me. I thought if I could just start fresh, be the person I wanted to be with you, maybe I could leave all that guilt and pain behind."

You sat there, processing everything he'd said. Part of you understood his fear, his desire to start anew. But another part of you was hurt that he hadn't trusted you enough to be honest from the beginning.

"Joshua," you said finally, "I appreciate you telling me all this. But... it doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. By omission, maybe, but still. How can I trust you after this?"

He leaned forward, his eyes intense. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I should have been honest from the start. But please believe me when I say that everything between us has been real. My feelings for you, they're more real than anything I've ever felt."

You wanted to believe him. God, how you wanted to. But the doubt that had taken root was hard to shake.

"I need time," you said, standing up. "To think, to process all of this. Can you... can you give me that?"

Joshua nodded, his expression a mixture of hope and resignation. "Of course. Take all the time you need. Just... please don't give up on us, Y/N. I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right."

As you left his room, you felt a strange mixture of emotions. Relief at finally knowing the truth, pain at the realization of how much hurt your relationship had caused, and a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find a way through this.

But even as you tried to sort through your feelings, you knew that the hardest part was yet to come. The campus was still buzzing with gossip, and you were still at the center of it all. How could you and Joshua ever move forward when the whole world seemed determined to tear you apart?

The next day, as you walked to class, you could feel the weight of stares on you. But something had changed. Maybe it was the conversation with Joshua, or maybe it was just that you'd reached your breaking point, but suddenly, you were tired of being the victim.

You straightened your shoulders, held your head high, and met the stares head-on. You were not the villain in this story, and you were done letting others make you feel like one.

In your Literature class, you found yourself sitting next to a girl named Soo-yun, someone you'd never really talked to before. To your surprise, she turned to you with a small smile.

"Hey," she said softly. "I just wanted to say... I think it's really brave, how you're handling all of this. I can't imagine how hard it must be."

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn't know how to respond. "I... thank you," you finally managed. "It means a lot to hear that."

Soo-yun nodded. "I know we don't really know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to, or just to sit with at lunch so you're not alone, I'm here."

You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by this unexpected kindness. "I might take you up on that," you said, offering a genuine smile for what felt like the first time in weeks.

As the days passed, you found small pockets of support like this. Not everyone believed the rumors, and those who took the time to get to know you often found that the reality was far different from the gossip.

But even as things began to improve slightly on campus, you still struggled with your feelings for Joshua. You missed him desperately, but the hurt and betrayal still stung. You found yourself replaying your conversations, analyzing every interaction, trying to separate the truth from the lies.

One afternoon, as you sat in the campus coffee shop, lost in thought, a familiar voice broke through your reverie.

"Is this seat taken?"

You looked up to see Joshua standing there, two cups of coffee in hand, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you gestured to the empty chair across from you. "It's all yours."

Joshua sat down, sliding one of the coffees towards you. "I got your usual," he said softly. "I hope that's okay."

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. "Thanks."

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a chasm. Finally, Joshua took a deep breath.

"Y/N, I've been doing a lot of thinking," he began. "About us, about everything that's happened. And I realized something. I've been so focused on trying to escape my past, on being the person I thought you wanted me to be, that I lost sight of who I really am."

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. "What do you mean?"

Joshua ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his nervousness. "I mean that I've been trying so hard to be perfect for you that I forgot that it was my imperfections, my past, all of it, that made me who I am. And who I am is someone who loves you, completely and utterly. Not because you're perfect, but because you're you."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, but you forced yourself to stay calm. "Joshua, I appreciate what you're saying, but-"

He held up a hand, cutting you off gently. "Please, let me finish. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and Yunha, and probably a lot of other people along the way. But I'm done running from my mistakes. I want to own them, learn from them, and hopefully, if you'll let me, make things right."

You studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity. But all you saw was raw, honest emotion.

"What are you saying, Joshua?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached across the table, his hand hovering near yours, not quite touching. "I'm saying that I love you, Y/N. All of you. And I want you to know all of me. The good, the bad, the parts I'm proud of and the parts I'm not. If you'll give me another chance, I promise to be completely honest with you, always."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. Slowly, you reached out, closing the distance between your hands.

"I can't promise it'll be easy," you said softly. "There's a lot of trust to rebuild."

Joshua nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes. For as long as it takes."

As you sat there, your hands intertwined, you felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you and Joshua could find your way back to each other.

In the weeks that followed, you and Joshua took small, tentative steps towards rebuilding your relationship. You started with coffee dates, just like in the beginning, relearning each other and having the honest conversations you should have had from the start.

Joshua opened up about his past, sharing stories about his relationship with Yunha, his struggles with self-doubt, and his fears about the future. You, in turn, shared your own insecurities and the pain you'd experienced during the podcast fallout.

It wasn't always easy. There were moments of tension, of old hurts resurfacing. But there were also moments of laughter, of rediscovering the connection that had drawn you together in the first place.

Slowly but surely, the storm began to pass. People found new gossip to occupy themselves with, and the hateful comments began to taper off. You never heard directly from Yunha, but the original podcast was taken down, and you liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she had found her own path to healing.

A year after the podcast incident, you and Joshua sat on the roof of your dorm, watching the sunset. Your hands were intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder. The campus sprawled out below you, peaceful in the fading light.

"Do you ever regret it?" you asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Getting involved with me, going through all of that?"

Joshua was quiet for a moment, then turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a love so deep it took your breath away.

"Never," he said firmly, squeezing your hand. "What we went through... it was hard, yeah. But it made us stronger. It showed me that what we have is real, that it can withstand anything."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "I feel the same way," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've come so far, haven't we?"

Joshua smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "We have. And we still have so far to go. But Y/N, I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul. Whatever comes our way, we'll face it together."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and loved in a way you'd never experienced before. "I like the sound of that," you murmured. "Together."

As you sat there, watching the last rays of sunlight paint the sky in vibrant hues, you reflected on the journey that had brought you to this moment. The pain, the growth, the love that had weathered the storm and come out stronger on the other side.

You might not have a ring on your finger, might not have all the answers about what the future held. But you had something far more valuable – a love that had been tested by fire and emerged stronger for it. A love built on honesty, on acceptance of each other's flaws and imperfections.

The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities and challenges. But with Joshua by your side, you felt ready to take on whatever life might throw your way, one day at a time. 

As the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Joshua began to hum softly, a melody you hadn't heard before. You closed your eyes, letting the gentle tune wash over you.

"Is that a new song?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

Joshua nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I've been working on it for a while now. It's... well, it's about us. About everything we've been through."

Your heart swelled with emotion. "Can I hear it? The whole thing, I mean."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, but remember it's still a work in progress."

Clearing his throat, Joshua began to sing softly, his voice carrying on the gentle evening breeze.

As the last note faded away, you found yourself wiping tears from your eyes. The raw emotion in Joshua's voice, the honesty of the lyrics – it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

"Joshua," you breathed, "that was beautiful. I can't believe you wrote that for us."

He ducked his head, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I wanted to capture everything we've been through, everything we mean to each other. I know it's not perfect-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

"It's perfect because it's us," you said softly. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Joshua pulled you closer, and you settled back against him, both of you content to watch as the sky darkened and more stars appeared.

"You know," Joshua said after a while, his voice thoughtful, "a year ago, I never would have had the courage to share an unfinished song like that. I was so caught up in trying to be perfect, in hiding the messy parts of myself."

You nodded, understanding. "And now?"

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Now I know that it's okay to be a work in progress. That the people who truly love you will accept all of you, rough edges and all."

His words resonated deeply with you. Over the past year, you'd both learned so much about vulnerability, about the strength that comes from being truly seen and accepted.

"Speaking of works in progress," you said, sitting up to look at him, "have you given any more thought to what you want to do after graduation? It's coming up faster than we think."

Joshua's expression turned serious. "I have, actually. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

You waited, giving him space to gather his thoughts.

"I want to pursue music," he said finally, his voice firm with resolve. "Not just as a hobby, but as a career. I know it won't be easy, and my parents probably won't be thrilled, but... it's what I love. It's who I am."

Pride swelled in your chest. You knew how much courage it took for Joshua to choose this path, to prioritize his passion over the safer, more conventional career his parents had always envisioned for him.

"I'm so proud of you," you said, squeezing his hand. "And I'll be right there supporting you every step of the way."

Joshua's eyes shone with gratitude. "What about you? Have you decided on grad school?"

You nodded, excitement bubbling up inside you. "I got the acceptance letter yesterday. I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

"Y/N, that's amazing!" Joshua exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. "I knew you could do it. You're going to be an incredible psychologist."

As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of rightness settle over you. This was what love was supposed to be – supporting each other's dreams, celebrating each other's successes.

"You know," you said as you pulled back, "we should probably start thinking about where we're going to live after graduation. With you pursuing music and me starting grad school, we might need to look into getting an apartment together."

The words were out before you fully realized the weight of what you were suggesting. Living together was a big step, one you hadn't really discussed before.

Joshua's eyes widened slightly, but then a slow smile spread across his face. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Y/N?"

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, but you held his gaze. "I guess I am. What do you think?"

He pretended to consider it for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, let me think. Waking up next to you every morning, making breakfast together, having a space that's truly ours... Yeah, I think I could get on board with that."

You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. "Is that a yes, then?"

Joshua's expression softened, becoming serious again. "It's absolutely a yes. I love you, Y/N, and nothing would make me happier than building a life with you."

As you sealed the decision with a kiss, you felt a sense of excitement for the future bubbling up inside you. You knew there would be challenges ahead – the stress of grad school, the uncertainty of Joshua's music career, the everyday trials of living together for the first time. But you also knew that together, you could handle anything life threw your way.

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity. Between finishing up your final semester, apartment hunting, and preparing for the next chapter of your lives, you and Joshua barely had a moment to breathe. But through it all, your relationship continued to grow stronger.

You found a small apartment not far from campus, cozy and full of character. The day you moved in, surrounded by boxes and the chaos of merging two lives into one space, you couldn't stop smiling. This was the beginning of something new, something uniquely yours and Joshua's.

As you unpacked, you came across a familiar box – the one where you'd stored all the mementos from your relationship. Concert tickets, dried flowers, handwritten notes. But there was something new tucked inside, something you didn't recognize.

"Joshua?" you called out, holding up a small, beautifully bound notebook. "What's this?"

He came into the room, a soft smile playing on his lips when he saw what you were holding. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd find that. It's for you – well, for us, really."

You opened the notebook, your breath catching as you realized what it was. On the first page, in Joshua's neat handwriting, were the words: "Our Story: Past, Present, and Future."

"I thought we could use it to write down our memories, our dreams for the future," Joshua explained, coming to sit beside you. "And maybe, someday, we can look back on it and see how far we've come."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you flipped through the pages. Some were already filled – recollections of your first date, the lyrics to the song Joshua had written for you, little sketches of moments you'd shared. But most of the pages were blank, waiting to be filled with the story of your life together.

"Joshua, this is..." you trailed off, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I know we've been through a lot, and there were times when I was afraid to confront the past. But now, I want to embrace all of it – the good and the bad. Because it all led us here, to this moment."

You leaned into him, feeling a profound sense of peace. "I love you," you said simply, because in that moment, those three words encompassed everything you felt.

"I love you too," Joshua replied, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Now, what do you say we write our first entry as official roommates?"

Laughing, you grabbed a pen and snuggled closer to Joshua. As you began to write, describing the chaos and joy of move-in day, you felt a sense of excitement for all the blank pages ahead – pages waiting to be filled with your shared story.

The coming years would bring their own challenges and triumphs. There would be late nights of studying for you and long hours in the recording studio for Joshua. There would be arguments over dirty dishes and whose turn it was to do laundry. There would be moments of doubt, of wondering if you were on the right path.

But there would also be quiet mornings spent cuddling in bed, lazy Sundays exploring your new neighborhood, and the thrill of celebrating each other's achievements. There would be the day Joshua landed his first real gig, and the night you aced your first major presentation in grad school. There would be family dinners, game nights with friends, and impromptu dance parties in your tiny living room.

Through it all, that notebook would be there, slowly filling with the story of your life together. A tangible reminder of the love you'd built, the challenges you'd overcome, and the future you were creating together.

As you closed the notebook that first night in your new apartment, you looked at Joshua and saw your whole world reflected in his eyes. You didn't know exactly what the future held, but you knew one thing for certain – whatever came your way, you'd face it together, writing your story one day at a time.

After all, your love wasn't just skin deep. It was woven into the very fabric of who you were, a bond that had been tested and strengthened by every challenge you'd faced. It was the skin you were in, the air you breathed, the truth you believed in.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped in each other's arms in your new home, you knew that this was just the beginning of your forever. A forever that you would define together, day by day, moment by moment, love by love.

[nicka-nell]

How they act when they have a crush on you

Pairing: Kita x, Osamu x, Tsukishima x, Akaashi x, Semi x reader

Warning: fluff, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 (end)

The man, who is always quite serious and shows little emotion on the outside, subtly softens. 

Kita maintains his direct manner and is no different towards you than he is towards his friends at first. That’s why nobody noticed that he had feelings for you. It even took him a long time to realize it. But gradually he starts to open up a little and shows you unexpected kindness. 

His usually serious look is a little softer towards you from time to time. Nothing that would be noticeable to someone who only sees him occasionally, but his teammates notice this subtle change in his facial features when he talks to you. 

Nevertheless, he remains direct, sometimes not realizing whether his words are perhaps a little too direct, but he never means any harm. 

“Osamu, Atsumu, before you continue arguing here, take off your street shoes. We’re in the sports hall and you have to wear clean shoes. You should know that by now.” Kita says with a serious expression as he stands next to the entrance door and looks at the twins. They flinch at his voice and quickly slip out of their shoes. Just a few seconds later, your voice echoes through the gym as you gasp and look in Suna’s direction. “Suna, you left your notebook in the classroom,” you say, waving it around in the air as you take another step into the gym. Atsumu and Osamu already look at you with a grimace, shaking their heads as if to tell you not to take another step into the hall, but you don’t see them because Kita stands in front of you and takes the exercise book from you. “Thank you for bringing this over. I’ll give the notebook to Suna. You can’t come in here with street shoes. The floor could get scratched by the dirt underneath them.” Kita’s voice is still serious, but it has a gentle undertone and Atsumu feels like he must have hit his head, because it almost looks like Kita is smiling at you.  You sigh as you walk out of the school building and see that the sky is darker. It has started to rain. Somewhat awkwardly, you take off your jacket and hold it over your head, hoping not to get wet. However, the fabric of your jacket is so thin that it won’t work anyway. Yet a large shadow looms over you as the rain stops beating down on your jacket. Confused, you look up and see an umbrella before looking to the side and spotting Kita next to you. He looks up at the sky, down at you before he starts to move. “Rain was forecast for today. You should check your weather app or the news more often. Or... you could always carry one of those umbrellas in your bag. They’re not heavy and it’s better to have an umbrella with you to be on the safe side than to get sick. Don’t you agree?” He lectures you. But he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He’s actually just trying to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to catch a cold. “Come on, don’t stay out in the rain. Your apartment is on my way home. I can drop you off at home.”

Because you don’t realize that Kita has feelings for you, it’s Kita himself who confesses his feelings to you at some point. 

Although his confession wasn’t particularly romantic or private. 

Suna had asked after training if you had anything to hold against Kita because he behaves differently towards you. Much softer. You didn’t quite understand the question, just like Kita, who turns to Suna and simply says, “That’s because I have feelings for her that are on a different level than those I have for normal friends.” 

Osamu differs from his brother. Unlike him, he is a quiet observer at first, and a denier to others. Whenever his friends try to tease him, he says that he has no feelings for a girl. (Acting like little boys who think that girls are disgusting and if you touch them, you get sick.)

But he knows your daily routine. Knows exactly where to find you so he can “accidentally” bump into you. Shares his lunch with you during your break, or goes to the sports hall with you and gossips a bit about his brother. 

But when he’s alone with you, he always tries to stay calm, giving you little crumbs of his feelings towards you, hoping you’ll get the signals. 

“So, ya didn’t have time to pack yer lunch again today, or do ya like the canteen food here so much?” asks Osamu, who sits down with Suna at the table where you are eating with a few friends. You look up at him, move a little to the side on the bench and make room for him to sit next to you. “The food is... okay,” you say, less convincingly as you look at Osamu’s bento box. At the delicious little nigiri, the egg roll and the chopped vegetables. Almost indifferently, Osamu pushes the bento box in your direction and takes a piece of the egg roll. “I’m not that hungry... if ya wanna, ya can eat with me,” he says, watching you smile sheepishly. ‘Yes,’ he thinks, but then you shake your head. “I can’t snatch your food. You have your training today. You need strength!” you answer him as Suna seizes the opportunity and holds out his chopsticks to grab something from Osamu’s bento box. But Osamu pushes his hand away. “Hands off, that’s my food,” he mumbles quietly so that only Suna can hear him, who raises his eyebrow.  You walk with Osamu to the gym, his pace slower as he matches your speed. You are alone, his hands are casually clasped behind his head, his gaze directed forward. “Man, Tsumu drank my shake again today and then he denied it even though the shake was sticking to the corner of his mouth. Idiot.” Osamu curses. His words make you laugh. Osamu always grumbles so much about his brother, but you can tell that they have a strong bond. A typical love-hate relationship that you have with siblings. “Oh, come on, it would be boring without him, wouldn’t it?” you reply, amused. “Boring? It would be nice to have a boring day at home for once. But ya know, it would be even nicer if I just had a different roommate. I bet it would be much more relaxed and cooler to share a room with ya.” he tries to say as calmly as possible, but notices how his heartbeat suddenly speeds up. “Osamu!” you giggle, playfully slapping him on the shoulder before his tension disappears, and he chuckles at you for a split second. 

His confession also seems rather calm, even though he is probably extremely nervous inside. 

He uses an opportunity where you are both alone, where you are in a good mood and you are having a joking conversation, when he asks you “Would ya rather date my dumb brother or me?”. 

Somewhat surprised by the question, you answer just as casually, “You, of course, you dummy”, not realizing that the question wasn’t meant as a joke. 

“So, am I to assume we’re dating now?” he grins, watching you stare at him like a fool. 

Oh, he is definitely a tease. You could call him Tease-ishima. 

But he doesn’t do it in quite such a childish way by throwing paper balls at the back of your head. He makes light-hearted jokes or playful jabs or hides compliments with teasing comments. 

Sometimes he tries to tease you to the point where you get into little playful arguments with him where he enjoys the back-and-forth between your exchanges. 

However, he also doesn’t realize that he might overstep or hurt you with his comments. If he notices this, he doesn’t try to apologize, but calmly asks why you are still so upset, although inwardly he hopes that you don’t take his remarks too much to heart. 

“Oh, are you trying to impress someone with that dress you’re wearing today? Who would have thought that would suit you?” says Tsukishima asked as he arrogantly tilts his head to the side and grins at you. “Imagine, I didn’t put this on to please you, but thank you, I know I look good myself...” you reply sassy and raise an eyebrow. Tsukishima purses his lips, almost as if he’s pouting, and clicks his tongue. “Whatever. I have to go now anyway. Unlike you, I have better things to do with my time than just standing in the school hallway for minutes,” he says, walking past you.  A little hurt by Tsukishima’s stupid comment about your new hairstyle, you sit on a half-height stone wall in the schoolyard and wait for your friends to come out of the building so you can go home. “Hey weakling, are you still offended about earlier?” asks Tsukishima, coming out of the front door of the school, his hands in his pockets. He stands next to you indifferently, glancing at you briefly before staring ahead into the distance. “You just don’t realize it when you offend people. Sometimes people don’t need your stupid remarks,” you reply, swinging your legs back and forth. You try not to look at him. “You always take everything too seriously too quickly,” says Tsukishima indifferently, but then he struggles with his words. As if he doesn’t know how to continue. Almost uncomfortably, he takes his hand out of his trouser pocket and scratches the back of his neck. “A shaved head would suit you too. Usually nothing disfigures good-looking people.” But before you can even process what he’s just said, Yamaguchi arrives and Tsukishima raises his hand in farewell with a neutral “See you around then.” 

Tsukishima is stubborn. Would he tell you that he’s in love with you? He’d probably wait until you said it. 

However, it could also happen that the key words just slip out in a brief argument with you. “Like what? I’m just being myself. Have you ever thought about the fact that there are people who express their affection in such a way?” he hisses before he even notices what he said to you. “Nevermind. It’s not that important,” he adds quickly, but it’s probably too late to back out now. 

Akaashi is a silent listener and subtle helper. 

He wouldn’t tease you, but he wouldn’t behave particularly differently towards you either. Even more so, he wouldn’t try to impress you. He would just be himself. 

He listens to you when you talk and is one of the few who maintains long eye contact and really focuses on the conversation. If he notices that you are having difficulties with something, he tries to help you. Whether it’s when you’re studying for a subject or because you can’t reach the items on the top shelf. 

Last week you were complaining to Bokuto that you have an exam this week and that you’re a bit scared. Although you’ve studied a lot and memorized the topic well, you’re still nervous because it’s an important exam. You’re sitting nervously on the bench during the break, going over the material for the exam bit by bit, when a small drinking packet suddenly blocks your view of your exercise book. You look up, a little puzzled, and see Akaashi holding the drinking packet in front of your nose while looking at you with a thin smile. “You shouldn’t look at your notebook now. Otherwise you’ll have a blackout during the exam. Have a drink and try to relax. You’ll be fine,” says Akaashi objectively, who overheard the conversation you had with Bokuto last week.  Today at volleyball training, the coach of the boys’ team wants the boys to play a 3-on-3 game and asks you to get the colored coats for the boys to wear over their jerseys so that you can clearly see who is on which team. In the storeroom, you look for the box with the yellow and green overcoats when you see that it is at the top of the shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, you try to reach it in vain. Pouting, you press your hands to your hips before placing one foot on the wobbly shelf, jumping up and touching the box with your fingertips. But you lose your balance as your back crashes against Akaashi’s chest, his arm wraps around your waist to catch you. “Careful. You should have asked for help. You could have hurt yourself,” he says in a neutral tone before reaching for the box and taking it down to hand it over. “Next time, please inform me. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Especially not because of such a small thing that could easily have been avoided,” he adds, making sure the box is firmly in your hands before leaving the room with you. 

Although Akaashi often says what he thinks, he is still a rather quiet person. Since his focus is currently on his graduation, he doesn’t think about telling you about his feelings. Quite apart from that, he assumes that you don’t have feelings for him anyway. 

However, his feelings came out by accident when Bokuto introduced you as Akaashi’s girlfriend during a training match. It was only a joke, but Akaashi’s ears turned red and, uncharacteristically for him, he was suddenly very embarrassed. 

After the training match, you went outside to Akaashi, who wanted to cool off, and asked him directly about his feelings. 

Semi may seem stern and distant to many, but that’s only the first impression. He’s actually a really nice guy, at least to his friends. He’s also nice to you. 

He’s a real social butterfly who indirectly tries to get close to you by talking to your friends, getting along with them, and going to the same parties you go to.

He recently spent an hour talking to your friend, who he doesn’t even like very much. But you sat next to him for the entire hour, nudged him slightly when he made one or two comments. But it was worth putting up with your friend’s talking because he could be near you for the time. 

He often tries to involve you in activities where he can get closer to you.

You’re chatting with your friends about the party that’s taking place at the weekend when you hear Semi’s voice behind you and a short time later, his elbow lightly nudges your arm. “Hi guys, are you planning something cool?” he asks the people he’s made friends with. The girl holding the party nods sheepishly and immediately asks if Semi wants to come as well. He puts on a charming smile before looking at you and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “You’re coming too, aren’t you? We could go together,” he says and waits for your answer, which you give him with a sly nod. At the party, he talks to lots of people, but always stays close to you, gets you drinks and asks you if you want to dance with him casually. On the dance floor, he doesn’t even give anyone the chance to dance with you as he swings you from left to right, pulls you towards him and enjoys being close to you. He finds it all the better that you seem to enjoy it.  As the winter tournament is coming up soon, the Shiratorizawa volleyball team is currently training a lot. Since you get along well with many of the boys, you are also there to support them by bringing them water or towels when they need them. The coach doesn’t mind your presence as long as you don’t disturb the active training. He doesn’t care what happens during the breaks. The boys currently have a ten-minute break when Semi waves you over. “You said the other day that you think the serve is amazing. Do you want to try it? I’ll help you,” he smiles and hands you the volleyball and gets behind you to show you how to position yourself and how to move your hands. “Am I doing this right?” you ask, turning to Semi, who is standing quite close behind you. “Yes, it looks good. But take your hand a little further up. The ball should be above your hips,” Semi says in a soft tone as his one hand stays on your hip, the other moves to your hand that holds the ball before lifting it slightly. “There, that’s better.” His words echo smoothly in your ears. A physical contact that is actually harmless, but makes his heart beat a little faster. It’s just a shame that ten minutes are over so quickly. 

Semi wants to be one hundred percent sure that you feel the same way about him as he does about you. That’s why he wouldn’t immediately overwhelm you with his feelings. 

At least that’s what he thought. 

Once, when you were struggling with your words after training, just to tell him that your friend had asked if you could give her Semi’s number, he had looked at you in total frustration and clicked his tongue. “Ehh? Do you really think I’m doing all this, the hanging out with your friends, the parties, the closeness to you, because I want something from your friend? Hell, I listened to her talk about the pigment in lipsticks for an hour because you were next to me and I wanted to be close to you. Not her…” 

[leclercstars]

advantage, zweig.

college!art donaldson x college!patrick zweig x reader based on this request

Summary: You've been into Art for years, but after he misses out on your senior awards ceremony, your feelings completely disappear. Seeing you out with a new guy certainly didn't help Art feel any better either. Warnings: mentions of alcohol, drug usage, kissing, mentions of sex.

You had been friends with Art and Tashi since you all were in the 5th grade. Spent hours on the playground together and in each other’s backyards before tennis consumed all three of you. When you all committed to Stanford, the joint going-away party your parents threw was unforgettable for quite a few reasons.

There had never really been any romantic tension between any of you. You and Tashi always had different types, and Art was sort of a self-proclaimed fuckboy so neither of you wanted anything to do with that. At least neither of you ever let it show. You had a sort of evergreen crush on Art, that seemingly persisted through every phase of your lives. From playing spin the bottle in basements to sneaking out for real parties in high school, the silent yearning you had for his touch never fully went away. Even when you had other boyfriends, shamefully, you always caught yourself thinking of Art when you listened to playlists they had made you. So when you walked him out to his car alone after your party, both of you single, Tashi preoccupied with talking to the adults, you knew you couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Bathed in the yellowy light of the street lamp, you leaned up against his car, wearing a low-cut white mini dress that did a good job of showing off your assets. Exactly what you wanted in this moment. It was 10pm, and the summer breeze had picked up, making your nipples pique through the thin fabric of the little dress. Art slowly stepped towards you, saying nothing, the lighting making his features dark, shadowy, lustful. His hands found the curve of your waist and pinned you against the chrome car door, tongue snaking its way down your throat with a passion that you had never experienced before. You tangled your hands in his hair, never wanting to let go of him or this moment. You kissed for what felt like hours, but as soon as he pulled away you already missed the taste of his lips against yours. He rested his forehead on yours, eyes closed, thumb rubbing your cheek. And then he got in the car and drove off.

And that was it. You never spoke of that moment again. You never told Tashi. That was it. And it was eating away at you. Your insides were constantly being mauled by a hunger for the feeling of his hands on you again. It was like a drug. A moment that had happened two years ago, and you constantly wanted another hit of that feeling. You all stayed friends, and you started to wonder if Art even remembered that it happened. It became harder and harder with each passing day to just act like things were the same, even when you had boyfriends of your own. You felt awkward bringing them around Art, knowing the way you felt. You still texted him all the time, hoping every notification was one from him. He had never been able to tie down a serious girlfriend, but spent quite a bit of time going on dates, which Tashi thought was trashy. “You can’t just keep leading girls on!” she would constantly groan. Boy, if only she knew. You kept yourself distracted from your own emotions by throwing yourself into school work, knowing that would at least pay off eventually. You excitedly texted Tashi and Art when you learned you were earning a distinguished senior award, and both of them promised to come to the ceremony. Tashi showed up 10 minutes early, always eager and overly punctual. 5 minutes passed, then 10, then 20. No sign of Art. He wasn’t responding to either of your texts, and Tashi started rubbing your back, knowing how excited you were about him being there. You had all done everything together for so long, and Art was missing out on the most important moment of your college career. How could he? This man you had loved for so long suddenly exposing his true colors sent a shock throughout your entire body. It was like waking up from a deep sleep, your feelings for Art slowly dissipating into the air around you. You heard a knock on your apartment door late that night. It was Art, standing there with flowers, wearing his sweat-stained Stanford tennis t-shirt. 

“I am so sorry.” “I don’t care Art,” you snapped, starting to close the door when he put his hand out to stop you, forcing himself inside. “Get out of my house,” each word dripping like venom off your tongue. “At least let me apologize, I overslept.” “You don’t get to just oversleep an important moment in my life and then expect me to act like it never happened,” you were choking back tears, not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of the man who hurt you so badly. “You’re gonna throw 10 years away for this? For one moment?” Art’s emotion was visceral, slicing through the thick tension hanging between the two of you. “I loved you Art,” you said matter of factly. “But this isn’t the only time you’ve “overslept” and no one who is wasting my time is worth any of mine.” He stood there, mouth agape. Tears welling up in the bottom of his eyes. He looked like a sad puppy, which was making it harder and harder for you to remain stone faced.

“What?” he said softly, voice quivering. “Get out, Art.” you choked. You couldn’t do this right now, just wanting to push him out of your apartment and out of your life. He threw the flowers on the table and left, slamming the door behind him. The wilted flowers still sat there two weeks later when you were bringing Patrick through the door, drunkenly stumbling with him to your bedroom. Tashi had set the two of you up after you spent hours crying to her about Art. “You can’t spend the rest of your life buried in a pint of ice cream,” she said. Obviously, it went well, as you watched him slip the condom out of his wallet before you shut your bedroom door.

Things were far from serious between you and Patrick. You couldn’t stand the thought of experiencing real emotion for anyone at the moment. Patrick was fun, he was sexy.  He loved going out and he was always happy to provide you with drunk cigs. Patrick showed up right at the perfect moment on Friday night. You were already drunk and all that tequila had gone straight to your clit. It was like he had a magnetic field around him, pulling you closer and closer with each passing minute. You met on the dance floor, your ass finding his crotch pretty easily as he pulled you in, the bumping techno song intoxicating you even more on him. 

“Oh hey that guy over there sits next to me in class!” Patrick waved and grinned before getting back to feeling you up. It was Art. Standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching you bump and grind with a guy who he thought was a random classmate. Your phone pinged and you sneakily pulled it out to read the text. It was from Art.

“I’m pretty sure he does coke.” You rolled your eyes and glared at him.

“I don’t really care Art.”

“I’d be a much better dance partner.” he shot back

Your stomach fluttered a bit at that, but you suppressed it. Remembering why you had distanced yourself from Art in the first place. “Let’s get out of here” you whispered to Patrick.

The two of you waded through the crowd, hand-in-hand, and you were sure to choose a path that led you directly by Art. You walked past without glancing at him. Once you reached the door, you saw him standing there still, watching, mouth drawn in a tight line, brows furrowed.

You had never felt so satisfied.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

tags: @fangirlinc @nuhteyam

[unreliablesnake]

Simon says (Simon Riley x reader)

Summary: Simon doesn’t want to let you be alone when you’re drunk, so you end up at his place. After he wakes up, the two of you play a little Simon says.

Note: That little snippet became pretty popular. Thanks, guys, here’s the whole thing. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warnings: smut. afab reader. minors dni!!!

“You suck!” you slurred once you grabbed Simon’s shoulder to steady yourself.

He only let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Things hadn’t been the best since the breakup, but he wasn’t about to leave you here on your own when you were this drunk. So he wrapped an arm around your body to keep you up straight, then began to walk towards his car.

Through the whole ride he was begging the universe not to make you throw up in the passenger seat, but you were a clever girl and knew when to make him stop the car so you would empty your stomach onto the street. He put his hand on your back, trying to calm you with a circular motion since you were cursing under your breath.

When you closed the door and signaled him it was okay to move again, Simon hesitated. “You okay?” he asked kindly. When you nodded in response, he let out a sigh and leaned his head against the headrest. “I’m not letting you stay alone tonight. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You’re staying at my place, okay? I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine,” you tried weakly before raising a hand and opening the door again for another round of vomiting. You didn’t see Simon roll his eyes at you, for which he was grateful, but he was glad to see a change in your behavior when you sat back. “Fine, let’s go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah.”

Simon’s lips curled into a smile as he watched you. “Can you say anything else?” he asked as he swept a strand of hair out of your face.

You made a face and he couldn’t help but laugh at it. Instead of making a comment about how weird you were whenever you got drunk, he started the car and began to drive to his place. You dozed off halfway there, and he listened to the quiet snoring as if that was the most adorable sound in the world.

Because in a way it was. When you were sober, you pushed him away. Now that you were drunk, you didn’t. He preferred this setup, he missed you every day, and keeping his distance was incredibly hard. He wanted to respect your decision to end the relationship, but despite your best effort to keep him at arm’s length, he was always drawn to you.

When he parked the car, you were still sleeping, so he decided to carry you inside instead of waking you up. You had changed your perfume. He remembered the scent of the usual one you wore when you went out, but this was certainly different. Simon didn’t like it that much, but he wondered if it was only because it told him you felt like it was time for a change after the breakup.

He took you to his bedroom, cautiously placing you on the bed then leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sleep tight, love. I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said quietly.

“Can you stay with me?” you mumbled in your sleep.

At first he thought he hadn’t heard you right, that he was just imagining things, but then you repeated it. Simon smiled to himself before lying down on the empty side of the bed next to you, an arm protectively wrapping around you immediately. You moved a little to be closer to him, your eyes still closed as you slept.

Eventually Simon fell asleep too, but his dream wasn’t free of you. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you might need to give him another chance. A friend’s advice? A big romantic gesture? Whatever it was, he was more than happy to give it to you.

In the early morning, before the sun came up, he woke up to you resting your head on his chest, while your arm was wrapped around his body. When he tried to peel you off gently, you just tightened your grip on him. “Stay,” you asked him. How could he say no to that? So he kissed your head and watched you sleeping comfortably, but he was soon reminded that you were slowly waking up. “Creep,” you noted with the hint of a smile.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Simon raised your hand and placed a kiss on its back. “You should make up your mind. One moment you want me to stay, the next you call me a creep,” he scolded you.

“Why did I let you go?” you suddenly asked, your chin now on his chest so you could look him in the eye.

“That’s something only you can answer. You never really gave me an explanation,” Simon pointed out.

You let out a sigh. He could tell you were thinking hard about the reason, but couldn’t really find what it was. Before speaking up again, you kissed his chest and tightened your grip around his body. “I was an idiot.”

Simon had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from agreeing, too afraid a comment like that would push you away again. When he felt your hand slowly moving down his body, heading straight under his sweatpants, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should let you do this. He didn’t want to cross a line, he didn’t want to use you in any way, even if it was you who made a move on him.

“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely. As you reached into his pants and grabbed his semi-erect cock, Simon gulped. God, he wanted you so badly, it was torture. But he needed to know if you meant it, so he said the first thing that came to his mind. “Let’s play ‘Simon says’, love. How does that sound? Just like in the old days.”

“But you’re so mean when we play that,” you said with a pout when he pulled your hand away from his pants.

“Simon says kiss me,” he began with a smirk.

With a short giggle you did as you were told, giving him a slow, sensual kiss that he missed so much. Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, eventually slipping his fingers into your hair to grab a fistful of it. You moaned into his mouth, but never broke the kiss. He loved that; he loved it when you acted like a little kitten, sounding almost like you were purring while you kissed him.

After he kissed the tip of your nose, he looked you in the eye and waited to see if you wanted to say anything. But you knew the rules. No talking while you played this game. “Good girl.” He swept a strand of hair behind your ear, then said, “Simon says slowly take your clothes off.”

A small, wicked smirk crept on your lips as you stood up on the bed and sensually began to shake your hips, as if you were swaying to a song only you could hear. He sat up and leaned his head against the wall while he watched you slowly take your shirt off. You threw it away and reached back to unclip your bra, but instead of quickly removing it, you cupped your breasts and pushed them together for a moment.

Simon couldn’t behave, and he flashed a smile at you before he groped his cock through his pants. You pouted, clearly unhappy that he didn’t want you to help him with that. But he wasn’t about to let you handle it, instead he motioned you to finally get rid of that bra. Being the good girl you were, you did just that, and then moved on to your jeans which you unbuttoned and slowly pushed off of yourself along with your panties.

He drew in a sharp breath. “I wanted to take those panties off of you,” he complained, earning a surprised look from you. “It’s okay, I didn’t tell you. Come here, baby.” He opened his arms, but you didn’t move. “Look at my vigilant girl,” he laughed. “Simon says help me out of my pants.”

This time you moved and got his sweatpants off. Simon could tell drool was already pooling in your mouth as you watched his now fully erect cock fall on his stomach. You had always been like that, clearly nothing changed in the past few months. You kneeled next to him on the bed, sitting on your heels with your hands resting on your thighs. Weren’t you an obedient little girl for him?

“Simon says answer me this. Are you one hundred percent sure you want this?” You gulped and nodded. You looked certain and sober, so he gave himself the green light to go on. “Simon says give me a blowjob,” he finally gave you the order.

Your face lit up like a Christmas tree, and you lowered your body to run your tongue along his shaft. His cock twitched in your hand, his excitement slowly getting the best of him. When he felt your soft lips around the head, he tangled his fingers into the hair on the back of your head and followed your movements without being too rough with you. There will be a moment when he can push you down on his cock, but now he just wanted you to get used to his size again.

You took him in your mouth, trying to take more and more in, while your hand twisted and turned around the base as you gently began pumping. He could see the satisfied little smile on your lips when he let out a deep moan and you let his cock fall out of your mouth with a loud pop.

He enjoyed it more than ever before. Maybe it was the months that had passed since the last time you’ve been together, but it was heavenly to have you like this again. He gently smacked your ass which drew a moan out of you. It wasn’t enough to stop you though, because you picked up your pace and began to let the tip get closer and closer to the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re too good for me,” he said quietly, earning a side glance from you. “It’s okay, keep going.” He knew what was on your mind. You had always told him you were just right for him, that he shouldn’t belittle himself. He told you about his past before, so no wonder you became so protective of him. You’d always been like that; worrying more about others than yourself.

Simon was pulled back to reality when he heard you gag, but that sound only made him push your head down a little more. He knew he was close, he could feel the orgasm building up in his core, so he pulled you off his cock and told you to speed things up and don’t waste your town deepthroating him. Being the good girl you were, you followed his instructions and he soon came into your mouth. You swallowed every drop and then even licked him clean without being told to do so.

“C’mere, baby,” he told you, and you immediately moved over to kiss him. Simon let you, he took his time enjoying the kiss, but then you broke it and leaned back and put your hand in front of your mouth. “That’s right, you screwed up.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered guiltily.

“It’s okay,” he began as he rubbed your back. “But that means playtime’s over. You know the rules.”

You threw your leg over his body to straddle him, his cock touching your ass as you leaned down to l. “Come on, Simon, I know you want this. Let’s see how fast you can make me come,” you purred in his ear before playfully biting his earlobe.

He just shook his head at this. “Maybe it’s better this way. I’m not entirely sure those few hours were enough for you to sober up.”

“Please,” you began to beg.

But he only laughed at this. “You still have your hands, love, if you’re really that desperate for an orgasm, you could just as well give me a show,” he suggested.

“Can I borrow your fingers?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not good enough,” you said with a pout before lying down next to him.

He pulled you closer and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “I still love you. If you’re willing to give our relationship another chance, I promise I’ll make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop,” he told you, earning a stupid little giggle from you. “You don’t believe me?”

You turned on your side to look at him. “It’s the opposite. I vividly remember that happening before. So another chance, huh? Let’s see if you can do it again, big boy,” you said with a laugh.

[pomefioredove]

Hey Dove~

I was reading through the different headcannons and the mute reader really caught my attention. Could you possibly do the Vice Wardens (including Ruggie cuz he's basically second in command anyway) with Yuu that has a speech impediment? Basically they stutter/stumble on words, get them mixed up, pronounces them wrong, and maybe forgets certain words. And obviously with new arcana and magical words (and the weird ahh names some of these characters have) they can get pretty frusterated or embarressed.

You always have such good headcannons!! Feel free to throw in any other characters that you like to the mix as well!!

OH this hits close to home too. I stutter and mispronounce things when I do speak, so I'm using that for reference

twst x mute reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ reader with a speech impediment

summary: as described type of post: headcanons characters: trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

see, I don't think Trey would say anything about it

he's not one to criticize strangeness

that would be rude, first of all

second of all, there's no such thing as "normal" at NRC

(even so, some people may point it out, but he's not one of them)

he doesn't have any trouble understanding you, either

he grew up with younger siblings who pronounced owl as "awa" and kitty as "shishi" until they were six

he's certainly patient

and he knows how to use context

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

honestly? Ruggie didn't even... notice?

for a while, he just thought you talked fast

he knows how it goes; you get excited or nervous or whatever, and you end up stumbling all over yourself

no biggie

then one day you come up to him all sad and teary, apologizing for a speech impediment he didn't even know you had, and he's like...

...oh! no!

of course he's not annoyed!

Ruggie's an adaptive guy, after all. when he wants something, he'll bend backwards for it

you think a little stuttering is gonna stop him from being friends with you?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

much like Trey, Jade doesn't say anything

he just watches you talk

and smiles

like this -> :)

it's not that he's particularly concerned about being rude, he's just...

observing

humans are such fascinating creatures, he thinks

he learns all of your quirks just by listening to you

which words you have trouble with, which ones you mix up and forget, which consonants you stumble over...

he teaches himself your language

and he becomes a sort of translator for you

any time someone is rude to you, he'll come out of nowhere and tell them everything you said in the exact order you said it

weird, but nice

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

to put it plainly, Jamil has bigger problems

whether or not he can understand you doesn't really matter to him

it's not his job to worry over you

then, you come to him asking for help, and...

...well, he's flattered

he can't deny he likes that you come to him for guidance before anyone else

because of this, (and because he had to learn how to control his own tongue when he was little), he takes pity on you

whether your goal is to work on your speech, or to simply feel less anxiety about it, he's there

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

is it cliche to say that Rook already knows exactly what you're thinking?

perhaps, but it's true

he's mastered the art of observation

he can read your thoughts in your expression, your body language, even the slightest twitch in your lips gives you away

he just knows

you don't have to be a good speaker, or a speaker at all, to communicate with Rook

(and he can do all the talking for you if you'd like, he'd probably enjoy that)

and, of course, he is of the opinion that there is beauty in everything

you don't need to be perfectly clear and concise for him to like you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, I can't guarantee that Lilia won't tease a little

only in good fun, of course

and only if you respond in kind

but he does find it rather cute when you mispronounce something, or mix up your words

he won't correct you or interrupt you, either

he'll step in to help if you're really struggling, of course, but he thinks of you as capable

he does remind you to take breathers when you're getting too anxious about it, though

he cares <3

[saccharinesatoru]

Caught in the Moment (Help, I'm Stuck!)

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (f)

genre: stepbrother!gojo + smut

word count: 6k

summary: When your Mom remarries, a certain white-haired, blue-eyed demon enters your life in the role of your new step brother. It doesn't matter how angelic he looks, he's nothing short of the devil. And while you've never been very close with your family, Gojo wants to be a whole lot closer to you than a step brother should be. But, hey, family comes first, right? Gojo sure thinks so.

warnings: stepcest (the people who like it, love it and the people who hate it wanna burn my house down for writing it), language, gojo's a brat, the stuck-in-washer bs from h*ntai, dubcon bordering on noncon?????? (open to interpretation, honestly), fingering & oral (f receiving), penetration (p in v), creampie, low key breeding kink, degradation with some hints of praise on the side like if you squint real hard, squirting, some anal (f receiving)

A/N: i will take no questions as to where I have been or why I was gone. i also write for some anime now too lmao. i miss satoru and I'm pissed at gege and I need an outlet bc these new manga chapters are giving me grey hairs. also, this is like 45% proofread max. oh, and thanks for 2k followers <3 ... i rarely come on here anymore, so I didn't notice until now.

xx Jay

You were never much of a family person. It’s not like your Mom made it very easy after divorcing your Dad and hopping from dick to dick like the floor was lava. New weekend? New date. Summer getaway? Fresh boytoy. Spring break? New guy to break her back- if her obnoxious moans were anything to go by. 

Overall, you were as much of a family person as your Mom was- noncommittal and unwilling to settle down. And you carried over that same distant, superficial behavior to any of your past romantic relationships… which always ended just about as quickly as your Mom’s did. Your closest friends liked to joke that poor taste in men and a lack of commitment to relationships were perhaps the only things you and your Mom shared in common. And you’d both been that way for as long as you could remember.

Which is why you heard a record scratch in your head when your Mom announced practically out of nowhere that she was engaged and soon to be married. Apparently, this was “the one” and “her knight in shining armor”, or so she claims. She’d have periods of puppy love infatuation every now and then with one of her flings, but since your Dad left the picture, none of your Mom’s relationships had led to a ring on her finger- much less a mansion to share with her new fiance.

The moving process proceeded as quickly as your Mom’s relationship had. In the blink of an eye, all your belongings were packed away nicely in boxes and placed in the back of a truck, soon to be parked in the driveway of your new house. It was as if your Mom wanted to move in together with her latest obsession before her new man realized how horrible of a wife she’d make. Your Dad could attest to that. 

The news about the engagement and rushed move all hit you suddenly, sure. But no amount of new information or experiences could have crashed into you quite as hard as your new step brother.

Literally. 

“Ow, fuck,” you rubbed your side, “Watch where you’re going.”

Gojo Satoru. 

Despite the angelic features, this boy was nothing short of the devil. Whenever you were bored, you’d flip through TV channels and stumble across trashy reality shows where rich people drank alcohol like it was water, partied until the sun came up, and had money to burn. You’d laugh at the over the top antics. Surely you’d never run into someone who actually behaved that way, right?

You wish you were wrong. 

Gojo turns around and lets out a chuckle, “My bad, sweets. I’m not used to having such dwarfs living here. The air must be a lil’ different down there, yeah?”

He places his palm on the top of your head and gives it a pat, smirk painted on his lips. You bat his hand away and take a step back, “You say that is if you’re not ducking to keep your head from hitting the door frame. I’m not tall, you're just freakishly tall.”

Smirking at you, he leans a bit closer to your face. He smells of strawberries, you note.

“Well, you know what they say about tall guys with big hands, right? Do you wanna find out if the rumors are true? I’ll give you a hint,” He takes another step closer, “they’re more than true. And all ya gotta do is step into my room and see for yourself.”

You bristle. 

His loud music? His rowdy friends that came over? His unwillingness to wash dishes? None of that came close to the bullshit that came from Gojo’s mouth. If it wasn’t suggestive comments spilling from his mouth, it was outright filth. 

Somewhere in Gojo’s mind, you two being in the city for the summer and practically home alone given your parents were constantly out doing God knows what meant it was open season to flirt and harass you mercilessly. It started as brushing your shoulder and occasionally touching your lower back when he would move past you in the hallway or kitchen, and now it progressed to… this. 

Stepping back like you’d been burned, you look at him with irritation, “Are you on crack? Is it crack that you smoke?”

He quirks his head to the side with a little smile on his face, “Whatcha mean, sweetheart? Don’t Mom and Dad want us to bond?”

You bring your hands to your head to massage your temples, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say… any of what you just said.”

Turning around you begin to walk away, “Keep all your pervy comments to yourself, clean your dishes in the sink, and stay out of my way. I’m supposed to be on summer break, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t come back home from one headache to live next door to another.”

Gojo’s lips curl upwards at that as he tilts his head to the side to get a nicer view of your ass as you walk toward the other room. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to play the long game. Despite what the people around him thought, Gojo was no fool. He saw right through his Dad’s rushed engagement and gave the two love birds a few months tops before the relationship failed. And if his Dad was allowed to make foolish mistakes in the name of love (lust), then couldn’t he do the same? After all, it’s not like he’s ever going to see you again once the marriage falls through. 

He might as well enjoy this little…. sibling dynamic while it lasts, right? That’s what any good brother would do. And in that moment, Gojo decides to himself that he is that good brother. Oh, he’d be the best big brother. 

Despite the constant annoyances from the white-haired, blue-eyed demon spawn who resided in the house, you did appreciate the in-house washer and dryer. Lugging your dirty clothes from your apartment to the laundry room of your housing complex was quite the pain. 

Humming a tune to yourself, you walked to the dryer with an empty hamper held against your hip. Opening the dryer door, you leaned down and began to remove the items of clothing. You leaned in a bit further when you noticed a sock at the very back of the appliance. 

Rip

You froze. You’ve never been the religious type, but you prayed to whatever god existed that your favorite sweater did not just get caught in the door of the dyer. You held your breath and tried to pull back a little further.

Riiiip

This time the tear was louder and you could just picture the fabric coming loose. 

Biting your lip you tried to wiggle around a bit to find a way to back away from the dryer door without ruining your sweater even further. No luck. 

After some time bent over with your upper torso stuck in the dryer, you heard footsteps approaching the laundry room. 

“Thank God,” you breathed out, “Mom, can you lend me a hand? The fabric on my sweater is stuck to the door of the dryer, and I don’t want to pull away since it’ll rip the top even more.”

You felt a hand brush against your upper thigh, and your breath caught in your throat. 

“Oh, I’d love to help, sweetheart,” Gogo sighed, “But I can lend you a whole lot more than just a hand.” 

With as much strength as you could muster (given your upper body is stuck inside a godforsaken dryer), you kick behind yourself in an attempt to get him away from you… only to have him catch your foot in his large hand. 

“Oh,” he tsks, “That’s no way to treat your loving brother, is it? After all, I’m just trying to help my cute, helpless little sister.”

You grit your teeth, “So help me God, Gojo, if you touch me again, I’m going to rip your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Although you can’t see him, you know he has that infuriating smirk painted on his face. “Nice to know you’ve got my dick on your mind, princess. Although I think I’d like my dick inside something else…”

Latching his hands onto your hips, he pulls your ass against him and grinds against you slowly. 

God, was it a bad day to have worn a skirt. 

“These skirts? These thighs?” he groans, “This ass? God, it’s like you’re begging me to take you. Seeing you leave the house with those skimpy little outfits on made me want to drag you to my room and fuck some manners into you. Maybe then you’d know not to show off what’s mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows so aggressively you know there’s guaranteed wrinkles. “What on earth are you talking about?” you spit, “Get the fuck away from me!”

You squirm some more but to no avail. He grabs your hips even tighter, and you feel the outline of something long and hard against your ass. You do everything in your power not to gasp. The last thing you want to do is give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting you. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks in a taunting tone, “I’ve known since day one that your Mom and my Dad were never gonna last. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun of our own, right?” He grinds against you again, and the end of your skirt pushes higher up your thighs. “And I couldn’t believe my luck when I just so happened to be walking past the laundry room and spotted you all nice and vulnerable for me.”

“Gojo, this isn’t funny. Let go,” you bite back. 

“Oh, no, I think I’m gonna take my time and enjoy this,” he continues to roll his hips against yours and removes one of his hands from your hips to push your skirt up and over your ass, revealing your panties. “Black lace? You’re kidding me, sweetheart. It’s like you planned for this all along. You want me as bad as I want you, huh?”

You feel his fingers run along the elastic of your underwear and begin to slip them down your legs. This time, you really do gasp. And Gojo certainly heard it if his dark chuckle is anything to go by. 

“I’m not fucking around, Gojo,” you let out desperately, knowing where things are about to head, “This is fucked up. You’re my step brother, and there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with you. If you let me go now, I won’t tell our parents.”

By this point your panties are on the floor and your skirt isn’t covering any part of your ass. “Oh, go ahead and tell them, princess,” Gojo remarks as his fingers draw closer to your cunt. “Let ‘em know how good your step brother makes you feel. Family comes first. And in this case,” his longer digits finally reach your pussy, “you’ll be coming in more ways than one.”

He runs a finger up and down your slit, and as much as you try and fight back, your body gives into the pleasure, especially when his fingers reach your clit and begin to roll against the bundle of nerves. “Thaaaat’s it,” he purrs, “Almost like this body was made for me the way I know it like the back of my hand, hm?”

He picks up the pace at which he rubs your clit and suddenly inserts a finger inside your cunt. “Dripping already and you really had the nerve to pretend you didn’t want this. Kind of a sorry attempt to maintain your modesty, sweetheart.”

Pumping his finger in and out of you, you're beginning to lose the strength in your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your upper torso was held up by the dryer, your legs might have given out. 

“G-Gojo, we shouldn’t-” 

He cuts you off, “You’re really going to tell me you don’t want this while you’re soaked already? Your mouth is saying one thing, but this pussy is saying another, sweetheart.”

As if to prove you wrong, he adds another finger and picks up the speed at which he’s scissoring your poor pussy. You let out a moan and allow yourself to push back against his fingers, barely mindful of your snagged sweater that landed you in this mess in the first place. 

You’re embarrassed to say (and you’d never admit this to Gojo), but you’re getting increasingly closer to your orgasm. You’ve been with your fair share of guys, sure, but no boy has ever made you feel as good as Gojo was making you feel right now. 

And that drove you nuts. 

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a moan. The pleasure of Gojo’s fingers on your clit and in your cunt was making your mind hazy and forgetful of the promise you made to yourself to not reveal how good Gojo was making you feel with his fingers alone. It was only a matter of time before your legs gave out completely if you’re being honest with yourself. 

“Oh?” Gojo asks tauntingly, “You enjoying yourself, pretty? What happened to that bratty mouth of yours? You just needed that attitude fucked right out of you, yeah?” 

Since Gojo already heard your moan and knew how your body was responding to his stimulation, you all but dropped your resolve and made no efforts to hold your noises back. After all, you were getting closer and closer to your release, and your brain hardly had the capacity to stay silent while taking his fingers. 

The lewd sounds of Gojo’s fingers pumping in and out of you were nothing short of filthy, and you’re almost ashamed to admit it turned you on even more. “Hear that?” Gojo asked as he continued his rhythm. “It’s like she’s calling out for me. You’re close, right?”

You whine at the question. 

“There’s no need to respond, sweetheart. I already know the answer,” Gojo quips with a smile. “But I think this pretty pussy of yours can be a bit louder… How about we pick up the pace a bit, yeah? Maybe add another finger? You can take it, right?”

Before you can respond, he adds another one of his long fingers and is plunging in and out of you at a mind bending pace. Your voice is shaky at best as you whine at the feeling. “Fuck,” you moan, “S-Sato-”

The white-haired boy smiles at your broken speech and the (attempted) use of his first name, “What was that, baby? Trying to moan your step brother’s name, let everyone know how deep his fingers are in your pussy?”

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to muster up the last bits of willpower you have left, “fuck you.”

He laughs at your comment and is half impressed that you’re still able to talk back. “Hm, still talking shit? Don’t worry, my tongue and cock will take care of that riiiight away. But first,” his pace gets impossibly faster, “you’re gonna cum all over my fingers.”

As if by magic, you came immediately after the words left his mouth. If you weren’t already a bit fucked out, you would have pondered how Gojo seemed to already know your body better than you did. 

Gojo pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt and sucks them clean. “Hm,” he hums, “Tastes even better than I imagined. You’ll let me get another taste, right? I mean, that’s the least you can do for your step brother after he made you cum so nicely on his fingers.”

He slowly lowers himself to the floor as you process his words, and before you could formulate a response, his tongue is on your pussy. You gasp out and would be tempted to reach back and grab his hair if your arms weren’t stuck inside the damn dryer. 

Gojo groans into your pussy, “Fuck, sweetheart, you tasted amazing on my fingers, but I like it even better from the source.”

He dives back in and has you moaning out for more. The way he moves his lips up and down your slit and rolls his tongue around your clit feels heavenly, despite the fact that the boy is the devil himself. 

Your legs are growing noticeably weaker, and Gojo loops his arms around your lower thighs to keep you in place and pull your cunt closer to his greedy mouth. Even then, your lower half is twitching in stimulation. Despite the tremors, you try to push your hips against Gojo’s face even more, and he lets out a laugh at the feeling. If you could see Gojo, you would see how much your sounds and movements are affecting him. He’s already high on the feeling of tongue-fucking you. But from inside the dryer, you can’t see that he’s as hard as a fucking rock, and his leaking cock is straining against his sweatpants to the point where it’s almost painful. 

His tongue settles on your clit and begins to alternate from sucking to rubbing figure eights on the bud. You’re really hoping no one else is home. Because if someone is, there’s no way they wouldn’t hear your desperate moans that are only increasing in volume as Gojo continues to eat you out like your pussy is his last meal. 

“Satoru, that feels so fucking good,” you sigh, leaning your head down to rest against the wall of the dryer since you’re unable to keep it up. 

“Oh, it’s Satoru now, is it?” he asks mockingly as he leans back and lets his fingers continue the pleasure on your clit, “You’re telling me all I had to do to get on your nice side was suck on this pretty pussy? Sweetheart, I would have done that for free.”

He leans back in and latches his tongue to your clit once more, picking up the pace and intensity of his sucking. With the little leg strength you have left, you bounce the lower half of your body against Gojo’s mouth continuously in an attempt to increase the stimulation. 

‘She wants to ride my tongue, huh?’ Gojo thinks to himself. ‘She’ll have all the time in the world to do that when I get her to sit on my face.’

Gojo’s turned on even more at the thought of you suffocating him with your thighs as your cunt drops on to his lips. He’ll have to experience it soon before the idea drives him even closer to insanity. 

Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He moans into your pussy, and the vibrations almost make you cum on the spot. The feeling is so good your eyes are nearly rolling back in your head. You’re really glad Gojo can’t see your face or he’d never let you forget the fucked out look in your eyes. However, what you don’t know is that Gojo won’t let you forget how good he fucked you no matter what your facial expressions looked like- those were just the cherry on top. 

“I’m so close, Satoru,” you whine, “Please don’t stop.”

You continue to grind on his face, shaking with pleasure and beginning to feel beads of sweat form on your forehead from the heat of the tongue-fucking coupled with the warmth of the dryer. 

The dam broke when Gojo landed a loud smack on your ass. You yelped and your legs gave way fully as you released all over his face. Gojo licked up every last drop of your cum and left kisses around your inner thighs before he pulled away. 

“Damn,” he breathed out as he rubbed his hand against the cheek he just spanked, “I didn’t take you for the masochist type, little sis. Got any other secrets I should know about? Or should I just find them out myself?

You whine at the feeling of his hand on your ass. You know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow. But you couldn’t focus on the long-term consequences of what was happening right now in the laundry room. It was fucked up, of course, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care how wrong it was. 

“Satoru,” you spoke, voice a bit hoarse from moaning, “need you to fuck me.”

Gojo tilts his head in faux confusion, “What was that, princess? I didn’t quite catch that. I mean, you are stuck in the dryer, after all. How else would I have been able to get you this easy and exposed for me?”

You groan in equal parts irritation and desperation. If you weren’t so fucked out already, you would have certainly cussed him out by now. 

“I said,” you repeat more firmly, “I need you to fuck me.”

He hums, “What? No “please”? And here I thought I’d fucked some manners into you. I guess all you respond to is cock, huh?” He brings his hand down against your ass once more. “Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please, please fuck me, Satoru. I need your cock so bad.”

You know he’s got that bratty smile on his face when he hears your words. His little step sister wants his cock, and who is he to deny her?

He quickly pulls down his sweats and spits on it before pumping it a few times. He rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Wait,” you manage to snap out of your daze, “Satoru, we need condoms.”

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, “Condoms? Baby, don’t you trust your step brother? You know I’m clean.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but your mind gets more and more hazy as he rubs his cock against your folds. 

“And besides,” Gojo grunts, “You’ll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

Without another word, Gojo slides into you. You curse out loud. He’s not even all the way in, and he feels fucking huge. The tip alone is wide enough that the ring of your pussy stretches uncomfortably and you feel it sting. And, fuck, even though it feels like he’s been pushing in for forever, he’s still not done. 

“Fucking, fuck,” you gasp, “Are you all the way in yet?

You can’t see his length, but as he pushes deeper and deeper inside your wet pussy, you suspect he’s got to be somewhere around 9 inches at least. Of course, the rich, popular, pretty boy has a massive cock, because he’s just so infuriatingly perfect.

“Just about, sweetheart,” he hisses and finally bottoms out, “What? Don’t tell me you want to back out now. You’re the one who wanted this, remember? My bratty little slut of a step sister can’t take the cock she begged for just a minute ago?”

You bite your lip and try to adjust to his gigantic length. Once the burn subsides, you feel the pleasure seep in. You’ve never felt so full. It was as if he were in your guts, and if you could look at your abdomen, you’d see his cock bulging from your tummy. You could only imagine how much fuller you’d feel when he actually came.

And although you had been apprehensive earlier, now the idea of Gojo cumming deep inside you nearly had you drooling. Better yet, his cock is so massive that instead of drooling saliva, you imagined his cum dripping from your mouth because he had filled up your pussy past the brim. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer, sweetheart,” Gojo groans and begins to fuck into you. “You’re so fucking tight it feels like your pussy is suffocating my cock.”

You moan at his words and try to picture his face as he takes you from behind. Gojo has always been attractive- that was never up for debate. But you could only imagine how hot he’d look with his eyebrows furrowed as he bit down on his pretty pink lips and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. You bet his white hair would stick to his forehead a bit, and you’d kill to run your fingers along his uppercut while he fucked you. 

That can be for another time. 

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he pounds into you, “Just like that, Satoru, don’t stop.”

He playfully rolls his eyes as if your pussy wasn’t frying his brain too, “So demanding,” he tuts. 

Picking up the pace, Gojo begins to slam his hips against yours even harder. He lands another spank on your ass and grabs your hips tightly with his free hand.

When was the last time you got laid? You can’t even remember when the dick you’re getting now is so good. And you certainly have never had a guy this big before, that’s for sure. But you almost feel like a virgin, because you have never been fucked like this before. It was an experience you hadn’t even considered until now.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Gojo professes, “Every time I’d hear you touching yourself in your room, I wanted to kick the door down and take care of you myself.”

If you weren't so absolutely cockdrunk already, you would have been positively flushed with embarrassment at his comment given you thought you’d been so quiet and strategic about when you played with yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Gojo removed his hand from your ass pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I even thought about sneaking cameras into your room to get an exclusive glimpse of what you looked like all needy and desperate to cum.” 

You gasped at the vulgar statement and felt yourself grow strangely wetter. 

Since when did any yandere behavior turn you on? 

Gojo laughs when he feels you tighten around him. “Oh, you like that? Well, now that I have this pussy, I’m never letting it go. No need for those cameras anymore, sweetheart. Why watch clips when I have this cunt instead?”

You really felt like you were going insane at this point. His cock is bullying itself into your cunt at an almost bruising pace. You could feel your wetness run down your thighs and your cheeks burn with embarrassment imagining the mess you’ve made on the floor from the amount of cum you’ve released. 

Gojo’s not faring any better. He felt like he would bust almost immediately after pushing into you, but he’d be damned if he fucked up this moment- the moment he had been imagining and wait for since the first time he laid eyes on you. 

“Oh, step sister,” Gojo said in a sing-song voice in between grunts, “Could you imagine if Mom and Dad walked in on us now? What would they say, seeing your precious little cunt be stretched out by your step brother’s cock, huh?”

Moaning at the thought, you try to close your legs a bit at the overstimulation.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Gojo quips and pulls your legs apart before shoving a hand between them and attaches his fingers to your abused clit. “There’s no way you’re getting away from my cock until you’re filled with my cum and can’t remember a thing except my name. Got it?”

You nod your head but immediately receive another spank. “Words, princess.”

“Yes!” you cry. Since there are tears welling up in your eyes, you’re now sweating, drooling, and crying. Gojo must hear your sniffling since he remarks, “Next time, I’ll take you from the front. That way, I’ll be able to see your face when I fuck you dumb.”

His words get progressively dirtier as he pounds into you. He’s so caught up in the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock that he’s almost rambling nonsense at this point. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to push you down face-first on the counter when you walk into the kitchen wearing those tight dresses or short skirts? It’s crazy how I've waited this long to fuck you,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll have to take pictures of you after I’m finished fucking this sloppy pussy so I can show all my friends what they're missing.”

You never imagined you’d be into voyeurism, but the way Gojo is describing how he’d photograph and record you to show you off to his friends like some prize to be won has you moaning out even louder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. And everything Gojo is saying and doing is only adding fuel. 

He was reaching parts of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. And he could tell by your reactions how good you felt taking his cock.

��Poor little girl,” he sighed out, “I bet you were getting tired of playing with this pretty pussy all by yourself, right? Your fingers just weren’t long enough to reach right…. here.” He hits your g-spot head on, and it has you screaming out his name. He rams against the spot over and over again, and you swear you’re seeing stars. 

His stamina should be studied by scientists the way he’s relentless as he pounds into you without any sign of slowing down. You knew for a fact that you would have collapsed onto the floor if not for the dryer door and Gojo’s arms keeping you up. You felt like a ragdoll with the way he was fucking you. You weren’t a person in this moment, you were his own personal fleshlight. And he’d be damned if he let you walk away without your pussy perfectly molded to fit his dick and his alone- not that you’ll be able to do much walking for a while anyway. 

“Y-you so big, Satoru,” you exhale, “I swear I can feel you in my throat.”

He laughs at your cockdrunk comment, “Believe me, sweetheart. Next time, my cock will be in that throat.”

He starts rubbing your clit even faster than before, and you’re doing everything you can not to scream your throat raw. It’s like Gojo has some sixth sense for your facial expressions since he barks, “Don’t you dare keep that mouth closed. I waited too long to fuck this tight pussy for you to hold back your screams.”

Your ass shakes as he spanks you multiple times in a row. With each spank, your moans get louder, your ass now bright red and warm to the touch. 

Removing his hand from your waist, your legs fumble. You’re barely standing upright, and practically all your weight rests on the where you body slumps over the dryer. “You better keep standing, pretty.” Gojo taunts. “Because you’re gonna have a much harder time taking my cock if you slip.” He threatens you as if he wouldn’t just fuck your boneless body on the floor, but he feels you tighten even more with his empty threat. 

Using his free hand, he spits on his fingers and brings them to your ass. Your eyes shoot open when you feel one of his digits run against the rim of your ass. “S-Satoru, what are you d-doing?” you stammer out, trying your best to form remotely coherent sentences. 

“What am I d-doing?” Gojo mocks. “Well, I’m just showing this hole some love too. Must have felt left out seeing your pussy be stuffed so nicely, yeah?”

He runs his finger along the rim and leans down to spit another dab of saliva on the hole all while keeping up his cock’s brutal pace and unforgiving assault on your clit. 

You clear your throat and shake your head in a poor attempt to clear your mind. “S-Satoru, I haven’t done anything there yet,” you pant. “Y-you shouldn’t do that.”

He smiles almost sinisterly, “Oh, I think I should, sweetheart. And that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Without any warning, he pushes his finger into your ass, and you yelp at the foreign sensation. You’d never tried anal with any of your past boyfriends. This was entirely new terrain. 

And Gojo dismissed your apprehension like he was swatting a fly. 

If anyone else did something like that to you, you’d wring their necks. So why did it feel so damn good when Gojo did it?

You moan louder as he begins to pump the digit in and out slowly, his spit acting as makeshift lube for the tight muscle. The combined sensations of your clit, cunt, and ass being played with was driving you insane. 

“F-fuck, Satoru,” you nearly wail, “I can’t take anymore, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “Oh, no, pretty. You can and will take it. You’re not done until I say you are.”

You’re fully sobbing by this point. You can’t tell where your tears end and where your drool begins. Your whole body is shaking and not just because of Gojo’s unforgiving pounding. 

“I’m so close,” you exclaim, “F-feel like I’m going to explode.” You didn’t even know how to explain what you were feeling at this point. 

“Explode, huh?” Gojo questions as he bites back a groan, “Well, that sounds exciting. How could you possibly ask me to stop now? We’re gonna miss the best part.”

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you taste the metallic flavor of blood that mixes with the excess saliva in your mouth from all your drooling. And if you were actually able to think clearly, you would have noticed the saltiness from your tears as well. 

“S-Satoru!” you scream. “I think I’m gonna-”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before you’re squirting all over your and Gojo’s legs, the floor, the side of the dryer. Your whole body is trembling, and you feel as if you’ve been electrocuted. You’re still crying out as Gojo brings both of his hands down to your hips to fuck you even harder. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gojo moans loudly, “Did you just squirt? Fucking god, I can’t wait to lick it off you.” His pace is as rough as ever, but it feels even more intense since you just had the strongest orgasm of your entire life. “I’m gonna fill up this pretty little pussy, and then no other guy will want my sloppy seconds, yeah? This pussy belongs to me now.”

Gojo fucks into you one, two, three more times before he’s shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your weeping pussy, still unbearably sensitive from squirting. If you weren’t so fucked out of your mind, you would have been mortified that you squirted- on Gojo and because of Gojo, nonetheless. 

It feels like ages before his cock stops filling you with his seed and he finally stills inside of you. That’s a miracle if ever you’ve seen one, because you thought you would die if he kept going. 

You both wince as he pulls out, and he watches in awe as his cum spills from your cunt. You hear him rustle through his discarded clothes on the floor before you hear the click of a camera. This little sound effect draws you from your haze a bit.

“G-Gojo!” you yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

You can hear a pout in his voice. “Gojo? What happened to Satoru, hm? Is that name only reserved for when I fuck you?”

“Delete that immediately!” you wiggle in place. 

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “Oh? You really want me to delete it? Because I could have swore you were just smothering my cock when I told you how badly I wanted to take pics of you after I’d fucked you stupid.”

You huff and are about to argue back when you feel him run his fingers against your thighs once more, and your words are caught in your throat.

“Speaking of which…” Gojo hums, “I must not have fucked you hard enough if you can still talk back to me…”

Your breath hitches. 

“I guess that just means I’ll have to fuck you again then, won’t I?” Gojo thinks aloud and grabs your ass with both hands. “Like I said, family comes first.”

---

if you made it this far...thanks guys lmao

[fanaticsnail]

Love Confession: Corazon

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 1,600+

Themes: Donquixote Rosinante Corazon x f!reader, love confession, mdni, 18+, smut, NSFW, P in V sex, creampie, admission of love, gendered terms used (spymistress as a job title), lazy sex, slow sex, romantic sex, teasing.

Notes: I hope you enjoy this little fic. The way I adore this man 🤌. Dedicated to @queenmimi2817 who also loves this silly man.

Legs splayed over his hips, your back was reclined against his chest. His bare skin heated your own and only fuelled that lazy moment of passion you shared with one another. 

Usually Corazon and yourself would use whatever moment you could to quickly release your pent up lust, uttering a swift ‘Thank you’ while adjusting your clothes. What started as simply finding a way to relieve tension as two marines working undercover, you both continued to find these moments together amongst the Donquixote Pirates: with him as Doflamingo’s ‘heart’ and you as a spymistress for his private guard. 

Both of you fed back information to the marine headquarters in your own way, and you both were grateful to still have one another in this new uncharted waters. 

Where most of the time was quick, rushed, manic, and hasty, this morning was unlike anything you had felt prior. His cock was fully sheathed within your pussy, his palm pressing against your clit while the other hand moved to cup your breasts. Gently pinching and tweaking your nipple, there was no movement of his hips rutting into yours. 

No mania, no frantic thrusts, no hasty release: you and Corazon, or Rosinante, had all the time in the world to be with one another. His lips pressed against your bare shoulders, his forearm firmly cradling your back to his body with a touch that felt like home. Hand still toying with your clit and rubbing it in gentle circles, you whimpered while you felt your need grow for him. 

“This okay?” he asked softly, lips traveling up to your earlobe and pressing soft kisses on the velvety skin. His whisper sent a chill down your body, the rise in goose-flesh puckering your skin and pebbling your nipples within his palms. 

“Yes-... fuck-... can you just rock a little?” you whispered in return, “You're perfect, I-I just need a little more.”  

Rosinante groaned at your request, flexing his thighs and bobbing you up onto his cock while you slunk back into him. Each moment was slow, lazy, carefree and soft. The slow drag of Rosinante’s cock stretching your walls and hitting each zone of pleasure had your body flooding with endorphins screaming in euphoria. 

As your lips parted to moan out a soft whimper of praise, the words toppled out without you truly thinking of any repercussions. 

“I love you.”

Rosinante’s hips stilled, his cock completely sheathed within your pussy and feeling the way it tensed up around his shaft. You felt his stomach flex, his abs constricting in petrification as your words punctured his heart.

Neither of you had said those words to one another before, and the shock of the soft whisper had a heavy weight dragging behind it. His fingers stilled on your nipples and clit as your minds caught up to your words. 

“Corazon, I-I-I’m sorry-!” Your hurried apologies flung over your lips and into the room illuminated by sunlight through sheer curtains, “I didn’t mean it.”

This seemed to cause more tension in the man behind you, slowly leaning up and taking you with him in his upright position. Cock still buried, your abdomen bulged with this new angle and caused you to groan in pleasure. His lips found your shoulder, pressing a gentle caress in soft kisses against your flesh. 

“Didn’t mean it?” he whispered, his lips traveling up higher to your ear and gently tugging on the lobe with his teeth, “Or: didn’t mean to say it now? Those are two very different things, love.” His lips journeyed down to your cheek before pulling away and peering into your eyes. 

“Which one is it?” 

When his auburn gaze met with yours, your breath hitched and your need for honesty eclipsed your training as a compulsive liar as spy for the World Government. Both of you had suffered long within the Donquixote Pirates, and you truly felt like if you weren’t to confess to Rosinante now, you might never confess at all. 

Gulping back your nerves, you slowly lean forward and brush your nose against the bridge of his before kissing the pointed tip. 

“I love you, Donquixote Rosinante,” you utter, pulling away and darting your eyes between his own, “I’m sorry I said it now, with your cock buried all the way up to the hilt in my belly, but I’m not sorry I said it.” 

The blonde bursts out in a wave of laughter, each chuckle swelling and pulsing his cock deep within you and causing you to moan out in bliss. Corazon moves his hands to your hips, lifting you up off his cock and turning you in his lap to face him. 

“I am so glad you said something,” he teetered off his laugh, pressing his lips once more to your cheek before peppering a line up to your temple. “I honestly feel like I would’ve taken my multi-year unrequited adoration with me to the grave.” His smile split up his lips, a boyish twinkle glittering in his auburn eyes with every word. “And it’s better you sitting on my cock than on my face when you confess your love for me.”

“Rosi-,” you whine out, silenced by his lips colliding with yours in an innocent and charming expression. You felt him smile against your lips while tilting his head and humming against you. Pulling away, he spoke your full name, not the title you donned as one of the Donquixote Pirates, but the name you were born and raised with. 

“I have loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he chuckled, rubbing soothing circles by the pads of his thumbs over your bare hips, “Before we had our first posting together, I think just after we graduated basic. I loved you then, and I love you now.” Your breath caught in your throat, tears beginning to well in your eyes and your lip trembling by the weight of his words, “I love you.” As you moved to speak, he squeezed your hips and clicked his tongue to indicate he wasn’t finished. 

“I remember telling my unit in cabin quarters that I was going to tell you how I felt,” he laughed, raising his hand up to cup your cheek, “The bloody bastards laughed at me. Said you were ‘out of my league’ and to leave it up to the best of us to catch you.” As you once more attempted to speak, he silenced you with a kiss before pulling back away.

“Tell me again,” he uttered, holding hips lips away from yours and muting his words against them. He lifted you up with ease and slowly lowered you back onto his cock. As you drew down, your arms came to rest on his shoulders. 

“I love you.”

Although you were moments ago just sat on his cock and enjoying a slow morning stretching out on it, the intrusion still managed to test your pelvic floor while you took him on a new angle. 

“Again,” he panted, lifting you up and dropping you down in a heavy-set thrust into your body. Sheathing himself down at the hilt, stars began to split in your vision while you felt the call of desire simmer at the edges. 

“I love you.” 

“Again,” he groaned, the end pulling gruffly as he growled out. His own desire began to pull his guts to a tight coil while he matched dropping you against upwards thrusts. 

“I love you.”

“Again.”

His pace picked up, bringing you both to the precipice of release while demanding to hear you speak the words he never thought he’d hear once more. His balls slapped your ass with each in-thrust, his movements growing manic as he used you as a sleeve for his ecstasy. 

As white began to flood your eyes, the tightness in your coil fizzed into sparks of ecstasy. Euphoria bloomed in your chest, expanding and darting throughout your body like the expansion of wings in first flight. Your lips fell agape as your pussy began contracting around his shaft and beckoning him alongside you.

“I love you.” 

Rosinante panted and cried out as he shot an explosive jet of his release into your womb, painting your walls with the love he so desperately felt for you. His much larger size in comparison to your body was felt in every groove in his throbbing veins swelling his cock. As his release began to overwhelm your pussy, the viscous splashback of his cum painted his crotch with his own release. 

Both whining and panting, his movements grew languid while championing you both through weighted highs. He felt whole, as one, and at home with you sheathing him on his lap. As you both caught your breath, smiles mirrored one another while you leaned down and pressed your forehead against his. 

“All that time?” you queeried, a small amount of teasing caught in your tone. Rosinante circled his forearms around your waist and pulled you up to rest your chest on his own. His cock slid out of you, along with a heavy slap of his release meeting the floor beneath the seat. 

“You’re such a tease,” he growled at you, his nose playfully crinkling up at the bridge. He nudged his forehead against your jaw to turn your head, finding your neck with his lips and kissing you slowly. Sensing a small amount of mischief in the smile anchored to your skin, you arched your brow and asked him quietly. 

“What are you planning, Rosinante?” Your question was met with a chuckle as he moved his hands down to cup each of your asscheeks in his larger hands. 

“Just thinking back more on the way you admitted you loved me,” he shrugged, squeezing your flesh and groaning out a little. “I kind of want to hear you tell me you love me while sitting on my face too.” 

“Rosinante-.”

“-We have all the time in the world today,” he cut off your train of thought, gently rolling your ass within his palms and fingers, “I want to hear it. Will you tell me you love me again?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

All Chapters List

VIII. The Lust, Threat, Tension (+18, Smut, MDNI)

De omnibus dubitandum.

Everything must be doubted…

C.S.

The warmth of the morning sun hits your skin and wakes you up, freeing you from the torturing effects of the strange dream and bringing you back to reality. You hadn't opened your eyes yet, trying to start the new day happily by reliving last night's memories. You heard the first chirping of birds, then a cheerful rooster, then the murmur that you thought came from the small courtyard. Then you felt a gentle but insistent pressure between your eyebrows so you decided to open your eyes.

You were surprised to notice that Marcus had his index finger just above your face. Your head was resting on his arm so you lifted your head to look at his face, he was smiling.

"What were you dreaming about?" You felt his fingers tracing the contours of your spine.

"How did you know I was dreaming?"

"I was watching you sleep and your peaceful face suddenly changed. Was it a bad dream?”

It was not the kind of dream you'd want to talk about, especially on such a romantic morning. Despite all the unpleasant feelings, you smiled at him. "No, it was just a silly dream, I don't even remember it," you lied. 

“Hmm,” He seemed convinced. “How do you feel?”

You made yourself put the dream completely out of your mind to answer sincerely. "Reborn and grateful,” your cheeks burned as you remembered every single moment about last night.

“Reborn?”

“As if my life has just started now,” you explained." It may sound silly, but it feels like everything is better and new. The sky seems brighter, and the sun's light seems to give off a different glow. It's like my life has meaning now.”

A boyish grin appeared on his face. Every time he smiles like that, it blows your mind as if he wasn't the same man who days ago fought fearlessly in the arena, slaughtering gladiators. “Then I must be silly too, because I feel just like you.”

He leaned over and kissed you gently. Your hand went to his hair as you enjoyed this moment, running your fingers through it. You felt that the effect of your dream was completely gone now, Marcus' presence was like an invisible shield, keeping your worries and fears away.

Then, he began to kiss you more passionately, his mouth greedy and hungry for more. His hands move to grab you behind the waist and pull you closer to him. Your heart raced as you realised what he was doing. He pinned you to the bed with his muscular body, leaving no gap. His hands roamed from your hips to your legs, not hurried but eager. This time you opened your legs instinctively, without any concern but with a lot of desire. You could feel him smiling beneath your lips, his light breath through his nose caressing your cheek. You let out a moan of pleasure as he teased you with his touch, brushing against your walls. You clenched the sheets as Marcus' full length entered you roughly, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He grasped your hand and guided it to his own neck, his eyes sparkling with desire. As his thrusts quickened, you instinctively found yourself digging your fingertips into the back of his neck and back, unable to resist the incredible sensation. Then, he swiftly changed positions, leaning against the head of the bed before pulling you in front of him, your breasts brushing his chest, and causing your back to turn towards the room so you were facing him. You gasped with delight at the sudden shift. He eagerly prodded himself at your entrance once again. This was completely new to you, and you opened your eyes in surprise and looked at him. He smiled mischievously.

"Each other's likes, remember?" he purred into your ear, his hot breath showering your cheeks.

His free hand moved to your hip, pushing you down as he led you on the awaiting shaft underneath.

"A new thing for you to learn, my love," he whispered again, his eyes alight with excitement.

You giggled naughtily. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck and gave yourself to him, feeling safe and excited. This time, it went smoothly. Your wet walls accommodated him with a slick sound while a deep groan was forced out from your lungs. Your back arched at the sight of his full length getting inside you once more, almost as if trying to ease the penetration. Exhaling pleasurably, he didn't waste time as he resumed moving, playing, licking, and sucking your breasts in the process. From this angle, he could push himself deeper with less effort, reaching your sweet spot with more precision and force. Your body bounced up and down at each thrust, eager for Marcus to have you even harder. But as this new position puts more pressure on your walls, on your sweet spot, you are overwhelmed by the sudden wave of pleasure and quickly reach your climax. As you moaned loudly, Marcus couldn't help but snicker and kiss you passionately. "So impatient?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you were pleasantly surprised that your body wanted more. You never thought you'd enjoy it so much that you'd want more every time. Was this lust? It was certainly amazing.

“Get ready for more, princess,” he cooed.

As if in approval, you felt your walls stretching with a pleasurable warmth. He gripped your hips tightly lifted and thrusted hard. He repeated, and then repeated again. He was almost at his limit, and he knew from experience it wouldn't have been long by now. But was determined to make you reach your climax once more. This time his strong fingers dug into your back down to your hips, his hot tongue running between your breasts as you took in short, sharp breaths, gasping when you felt his teeth on them. Soon he was combining his force with a faster pace. His loud moans became mixed with yours, like music in your ears.

A few more strong shoves, and he realized he couldn't hold back any longer, not matter how hard he tried. So he came hard with a wild groan which turns you on hard and thus brings you more pleasure. You threw your head back as he filled you with his warm liquid, sending you over the edge for the second time. As your breathing became regular, he kissed you again, this time adoringly. He broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead to yours, both of you still breathing heavily. "Now that you've completed your duty of pleasing your husband," his fingers slid down the curve of your spine, "Perhaps a hot bath would be a welcome treat, my lady?"

You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, General."

He kissed you one last time before getting out of bed.

Tullia and Norell had already prepared your bath, as it was the morning of the wedding night of their Dominus and Domina. The Balneum was filled with a warm, steamy atmosphere, gently blended with the subtle aromas of various flowers floating on the surface of the hot water in the tub. Marcus helped you in and then sat you on his lap. You were amused by the way he treated you as if you were going to run away at any moment. You wouldn't have changed the feeling of being in his arms for anything; it was so wonderful and simple, as easy and natural as breathing. It was as if your bodies had been created for each other by the God Prometheus.

The soft movements of yours caused the lavender flowers on the surface of the water to dance in unison. You picked one and placed it in your palm, leaning your head back against Marcus' chest and inhaling its refreshing and comforting scent. He gently lifted your hair and massaged oil into your neck with his strong fingers. As you relaxed in the tub, enjoying a blissful moment of tranquility, the only sound that could be heard was the soothing burbling of the hot water.

You suddenly felt you missed his voice and his face. It was a pretty unusual feeling, missing him even when you were with him. You turned towards him and offered to give him a massage, just as he had given you one. Your hands traveled over his broad shoulders, neck, and arms, stopping at the wound on his shoulder. It was not fully healed. You swallowed hard as you remembered how sharp the sword was that the gladiator was holding. He noticed your frown and smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I've been hurt worse, so don't worry. Besides, you healed all my wounds completely last night and this morning.” He smirked.

His implication made your cheeks flush, and you smiled shyly. Marcus caressed your cheeks with his wet hand, which smelled like lavender. "You're so beautiful when you blush," he murmured.

You were sure your cheeks turned completely red when you felt him hard between your thighs, right under your hips.

He laughed. “I suppose that this is my way of blushing to you my lady.”

In one quick move, he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up, pulling closer, causing some of the water to flow out of the tube along with the lavenders, splashing the floor.

Marcus seemed to be quite passionate, having you there, in the water. He didn't seem to tire at all; he was still as thrilled as ever. As strong and determined as he was in battle, he was just the same when making love to you. You wondered if there was a limit to his lust and how much you could keep up with it. This unfamiliar physical pace was so beautiful that you never wanted it to end, no matter how exhausted you felt afterward.

You didn't do anything different on the rest of your first day as newlyweds. Marcus had asked them to bring the food to the room, and you didn't really want to get out of bed with the sheets freshly changed. When he called you to the table for something to eat, you saw Mau at the entrance to the balcony. You realised how much you missed her and ran to take her in your arms. She was purring as she played with your damp hair with her paw.

“It seems like she's pleased to see you again,” Marcus said.

You turned towards him, curious to know what he thought about cats.

“You look like you've met Mau.”

“Mau?' Did you name it? You never cease to amaze me, my lady.” He laughed.

“I had a cat like her in Egypt, she reminds me of it,” you ran your fingers through her black fur.

“We became good friends in your absence,” he said, pouring wine into his glass.

You raised your eyebrows. “I didn't know you liked cats, General.”

Marcus took a sip of his wine. "It.. Mau, keeps our kitchen pantry rat-free. She's a hunter. I'm grateful to her."

You smiled at him, appreciating the softer side of him that he lets you see.

“Come now, sit, you need to eat some food.”

You nodded and put Mau down, she was meowing, she must have smelt the food on the tray. You took a piece of food from the tray, went to the balcony, and put it on the ground. She meowed impatiently and quickly ran towards the food and started eating.

“I'm getting jealous of her,” Marcus complained.

You let out a little giggle and moved towards him. Just as you were about to sit down in the chair opposite him, he stopped you with a flourish of his hand. “Here,” he said, opening his arms wide and pointing to himself.

As you stared at him with confusion, he reached out grabbed your wrist, and pulled you to him, and you found yourself sitting on his lap. You looked at him, batting your eyelashes. His dark brown eyes stared intently into yours, and you felt your heart flutter. “When you look at me like that with your long eyelashes, it feels like an arrow through my heart,” he said with his velvety tone. You blinked again, “Like Cupid's arrow?”

He laughed gleefully. “Like Cupid's arrow,” he repeated. He pressed his forehead to yours and kissed the tip of your nose. “Now, my lady, allow me to feed you.” He took a spoonful of food from the plate on the tray and fed it to you. As you swallowed, you realised how hungry you were. Meanwhile, he was watching you intently. Then you took a piece of bread and brought it closer to Marcus. “I should too, feed my husband, shouldn't I? Open up, General.”

He smiled and opened his mouth. You watched as he chewed, your eyes wandering over his mouth and lips. It was a delight to watch.

While you two were enjoying your romantic lentaculum (breakfast), you decided to ask him about something that had been on your mind for a while. “If I may ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“When I first came here, I heard you'd been married and divorced before.”

Marcus slowed his mouth movements as he chewed his food and locked his eyes on the food on the tray. You regretted asking that question when the joy on his face gave way to seriousness. He nodded with a half smile. “That's correct. It was an arranged marriage. I was young and dumb.” There was disappointment and sadness in his voice.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

He swallowed slowly, then took a fig from the tray and split it in half. “My father didn't want me to join the army. He thought he could prevent it by marrying me off. He wanted me in the senate like him.” He peeled the fig and fed it to you.

“But you joined anyway?” You asked as you chewed the fig.

“I had to. It was the only way I could stay away from this villa.”

You looked at him with a hint of surprise in your eyes. Marcus responded to your expression with a smile, gently touching your cheek with his hand. “I never loved her. I tried so hard to, but it just wasn't meant to be. As it turned out, she was already in love with someone else.” He slid his hand into your hair, his fingers stroking it slowly from top to bottom as if combing it. “I tried to satisfy my unhappiness on the battlefield, and my physical needs as a man. You can imagine where.”

Your stomach hurt, but not because you swallowed your food without chewing. Suddenly you felt a wave of jealousy sweep through your body. As if the fact that he used to be married didn't torture you enough, now you were sure you will be tormented by the thought of him sleeping with who knows how many women in the whore house. Yes, you definitely regretted asking him that question.

“Did I upset you?” He put his hand on your knee and rubbed it softly.

You quickly recovered your expression, forcing a smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “Please continue, I wish to know everything about you.”

He narrowed his eyes and read your expression, then sighed and continued.

“Well, when I found out she was busy with her lover while I was on the battlefield.” His eyes darkened to black. “I killed him.” His voice was sharp, making you tense. However, you kept your expression still, locked in his eyes. “I divorced after my father died, and I had no one left in the villa. I was alone, a soldier widowed at a young age.” He forced a smile.

“It must be so hard for you. I'm so sorry.” Your voice cracked.

He placed his arm around you and kissed you on the shoulder. "There is no need for you to be sorry, my love. Everything is in the past now." He smiled gently as he stroked your upper arm. “I consider myself extremely fortunate that the gods brought me you. You have not only healed me physically but also emotionally.”

Your heart began to race with excitement as his lips traced a path over your shoulder once more. 'My beautiful Aurelia,' he whispered in your ear, his voice full of love and desire. You inhaled the delicious scent of lavender from his masculine skin, and you felt your eyes closing of their own accord. You felt his lips on yours, right where they belonged. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and you didn't care that the fork in your hand dropped to the floor as he kissed you passionately.  Marcus put one arm under your legs and took you in his arms. Without breaking the kiss, he stood up and rushed to the bed, your giggles echoing through the room.

The soft glow of sunlight that filtered through the window gently roused you from your slumber. As you listened to the birds outside, you became aware that you had perhaps lost track of time. You hadn't left the room for a day except to take a bath. You were having some pretty intense, passionate moments, and you spent the rest of the time discovering your bodies and their needs. As you yawned, you realised you were still tired. All the sexual activity between you and Marcus had made you feel more tired than ever. Your muscles were a little sore as if you had run a long distance without stopping. But it was still so good, being in this room with him, cut off from the outside world, was the best feeling you had ever had or could ever have.

When you opened your eyes and saw Marcus's stunning face right next to yours, you felt your sense of fatigue dissipate. He looked so peaceful asleep, almost as if he were a little boy. As you listened to his breathing, you found yourself wishing for a way to make this moment stop. If only you could stay in this room forever, just the two of you.

You were surprised to feel a warmth and a purring near your feet and looked up. Mau was peacefully sleeping on the sheets, curled up next to your feet. You were about to turn away so as not to disturb her when Marcus's arm reached out to pull you back. You felt his chest against your back and he buried his face in your hair.

“Are you trying to run away, beautiful?” he mumbles, still sleepy.

“Of course not, I-” He tightened his arm.

"I'll find you, no matter where you go, my love." He smells your hair, tickles your neck.

“I'm sure you will, General, I have no such intention.” You turned to him. Mau was awake by your movements, she yawned and stretched then jumped down from the bed.

“So, we’re going to stay in this room like, forever?” You ran your index finger along his collarbone.

“My lady, are you already bored with your husband?" He enquired cheerfully.

"Of course not," you said, looking at him. "How about you?"

"That's not even a possibility. You make the most delicious love noises, whimpers, giggles, and at times, little mewls. Your sweet scent compels me. You drive me crazy. I'll never get enough of you."

You snuggled against his chest contently and inhaled deeply.

He kissed your head, right at the top. "I would love to. Believe me." He said, his warm breath caressing your forehead. "To stay like this forever. I wish that it could be possible."

"Me too," you murmured.

With your head on his chest, eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat, he plays with your hair, letting a few strands brush his face and lips. You're both savoring the moment in your own ways.

Then he sighs. “Another hot bath?”

You nod without lifting your head from his chest. He smiles and sits up in bed, his hands on your shoulders.

“I'll leave afterward, I have to go to the barracks.” He leans down and kisses you on the lips. “But not without having breakfast with my beautiful wife, of course."

“Sounds great.” You smiled.

After a very hot bath with Marcus, he told the slaves to bring breakfast to the room again. Just like yesterday, you had another romantic breakfast together. Then he had to get ready, so you helped him put on the burgundy tunic he usually wore under his leather armour.

"Are you sure about this?" Marcus asked.

"As your wife, I want to dress you, including your armor. Can you teach me how?"

He pouted and smiled. “Hmm, alright then.”

He took the leather armour and came to you. "Hold it carefully, it might be heavy for your delicate arms." You stretched your arms forward with a determined look on your face. Marcus suppressed a smile by pursing his lips and handed you the armour. You were surprised by the weight of it and almost stumbled. Why was it so heavy? Marcus laughed. "Are you alright, my lady? If you want me to help you-"

“I'll manage, thank you.” You didn't want to give up, you tried to hold it with all your strength.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you keep holding it while I put on the focalia (scarf) first?"As he wrapped the focalia around his neck, you realized that he was taking too long. Was he stalling?

"Marcus," you said with a little whine in your voice. He let out a little laugh and then came over to you.

"You know, you could really benefit from building up your arm muscles a bit. They're a little on the skinny side, don't you think?"

"Are you really comparing your muscles to mine? That's not fair, General."

He leaned forward to put the armour over his head. "You just need to be strong enough to protect yourself." He took your hands and led them to the side of his armour where the leather straps were. "Make sure to tie it tight," he demanded.

“Enough to protect myself?” You asked as you tied the straps with great care. You got this part just fine. Marcus took hold of the armour as you tied it and made sure it was fitted snugly against his chest.

"Yes, I've been thinking about it for a while."

You looked at him with one eyebrow arched.

"You need to learn to protect yourself."

“Protect from what?” You asked him as you tied the other side.

He turned his head towards you. "From any danger, my lady."

"I am reassured to know you will protect me, as my husband." You said, smiling at him.

He smiled back, but it seemed as though he was pondering something. You looked at him when you finished tying. "The leather strips are next, aren't they? I'll get-“

He suddenly took hold of your wrist and pulled you towards him. "I will protect you from all harm, Aurelia. I would never let anything happen to you. But, if anything were to occur to me, or if..." It seemed as though he was seeking for the right words. "I would never want you to be left without defense when I am not there to help." His voice trembled slightly.

It was torture for him to imagine you like that.

“Nothing will happen to you, Marcus, I won't let it.” You felt a pang of sadness at his words.

He smiled and embraced you, you rested your head on his chest, feeling the surface of leather underneath your cheek. You placed your hand on the medusa, your fingers tracing her eyes.

"It would be wise for us to be prepared for anything, though. I'll teach you.”

“Learning to fight? I’m sure I'll be a terrible student.”

He laughed at your expression and kissed you gently on the lips, lovingly.

“Well, as a General, I am a good teacher.” He said, breaking the kiss.

You pouted your lips. He caressed your cheeks with the back of his hand. Then, as he was showing you how to put leather strips on the shoulder, there was a knock at the door. Cato came in and looked at him in surprise.

“Sir?”

"Cato, my dear wife dressed me in your absence.”

Marcus leaned on the edge of the desk and stretched his arm forward as you tied one of the armbands.

"I'm apologizing for that, sir." He bowed his head.

"Have you completed the task I instructed you to do earlier?”

As you tied the other armband, you wondered what it was but didn't think much about it. It was obviously something to do with his work.

"Yes sir.”

“Good.”

"Here." You said, your voice brimming with joy as you finished tying it.

"Thank you, my lady. I feel safer now that you've dressed me with your blissful hands." He kissed your hand and then your cheek, making you giggle.

Cato seemed embarrassed and looked away.

Marcus cleared his throat and stood up. "Let's get going, Cato," he said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

You also accompanied them as they exited the room. On your way down the stairs, you observed Norell sweeping the floor in the courtyard. When she saw you, she paused and bowed her head. Cato looked at Marcus as he descended the stairs. “Sir, if you'll excuse me, I have something to say.”

“Say it,” he said without looking at him, gesturing with his hand.

“I was wondering if I could start training with the troops as a real soldier now. Since my lady can help you with the armor.”

Marcus stopped and looked at him, a frown forming on his face. "A real soldier?" You think you're ready to join the army already?

Cato gave a little nod, looking a bit unsure.

Marcus gave a stern look and commanded, "Draw your sword!"

Cato was a bit confused at first, unsure of what to do, but he reached for his holster to draw his sword. But he was too wound up, his hand was shaking, and he had just reached for his sword when Marcus, with great skill, quickly drew his own sword and pointed it at his throat. "And you're dead."

“Gods!” Cato opened his eyes wide and took a deep breath.

You and Norell laughed at Cato's expression.

Marcus quickly sheathed his sword and punched him on the shoulder with his fist as if in a warning. "You can't even draw your sword properly. How can you join the troops and fight the enemy on the front line?"

He rubbed his shoulder. "I was caught off guard, sir. I apologise."

"We'll practice sword drawing today. Now, go and wait for me by your horse. Move!"

“Yes sir!”

You stepped towards Marcus as Cato left the courtyard. "That little rascal." He muttered.

"Aren't you being a little hard on him, General?"

"It's for his own good. He sometimes has a hard time keeping up, but he's a determined boy. I should pay a little more attention to his training now. I have been very busy with the other commanders lately."

You suddenly remembered what Julia told you earlier.

"Are you talking about your legates?"

"That's right."

"Do you have confidence in them?"

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "I'd be lying if I said yes, but why do you ask? May I know?"

"When I was staying at the Domus Severiana, Julia said something to me the night before the game." You swallowed as you remembered that moment. Marcus was listening intently. "She said there were soldiers in the Legates who could take your place if you lost the fight."

Marcus crossed his arms. "I think I have a guess." Then he put his hand on your shoulder. "I appreciate you letting me know," he kissed your forehead. "I need to take my leave now," his fingers ran through your hair. "Wait for my return." He leaned close to your ear. "I'll be looking forward to the night, my beautiful wife.” He gave you a wink and a smile, then turned and left the courtyard at a brisk pace.

You inhaled deeply feeling like you missed him already, but this was the only place you felt completely relieved. His home, your home. You turned towards Norell who was still sweeping the floor and seemed a little shy, so you went over and gave her a hug.

"I've missed you a lot," you said, stroking her ginger-coloured hair.

She was a little hesitant at first, but then she hugged you back. "I missed you too, Domina, I mean my lady, um, princess Aurelia.”

You chuckled. “Please, just call me Aurelia when it's just us.”

She nodded happily.

"Where is Decima?”

"She was feeding the chickens. Um, she told me everything, I'm glad you got her out of there.”

"It's good to see you've got on so well with her.”

A little later, Decima showed up in the courtyard. You called her over, held out your hands, and she held them. "How are you doing, my lady? Is the marriage going well?" She winked at you and gave you a quick look over. "You look a little tired."

You felt your cheeks burning, and Norell let out a little chuckle.

“Because you're keeping your Domina up, let me some rest.” You joked and sat down on the triclinium (couch) in the courtyard. Tullia came running over and looked at the girls angrily. You yawned involuntarily as you leaned on the couch.

"Don't you girls have any manners? Get your Domina something to drink now!”

Norell gave a gentle nod and poured you a glass of wine, which she then handed to you. "Here, my lady," she said, offering you.

"Is there anything else we can get you, Domina?" Tullia was quite a bit older than you, and you felt it would be inappropriate to order her around.

"No, thank you, Tullia."

"Once you've finished your rest, I would like to show you something, my lady," Tullia said. "The General instructed me to do so.”

You took a sip of wine and looked at her, your curiosity piqued. “Now that my husband has instructed you, first, I would like to see what it is.”

Norell and Decima exchanged glances, they must have known already. You took their arm as Tullia led the way.

“Now, tell me, what's going on?”

“You'll see in a minute.” Norell smiled.

"I'm sure you'll like it," Decima assured you.

Tullia stood in front of a door on the other side of the small courtyard where the kitchen was. She opened it and invited you with her hand.

“Please, come in, my lady.”

You released their arms and stepped inside. The room was modest in size, with an array of shelves, a desk, and a mattress. As you perused the shelves, you were amazed to find herbs, vials, tools, and other essential items for a medicus. On the table was a leather bag that seemed similar to one you had previously owned. Your face lit up with a beaming smile. "Did the General have all these items prepared for me?”

“Yes, they are all fresh and new, and will be replenished as you need them, my lady,” Tullia replied.

How much more can I possibly fall in love with this man? You thought to yourself, your heart brimming with love and admiration.

As you were looking at the shelves, observing the herbs, you noticed a smell that immediately caught your attention. It was the same smell you had heard before, the smell of that deadly dangerous plant. Decima reached for the shelf, but you quickly pushed her hand away. “Don’t!"

“It's hemlock, don't touch it.” You looked at Tullia. “Has anyone touched this plant?”

She opened her eyes wide. “Y-yes, one of the slaves-“

“Is that why he's sick?” Norell interrupted.

“Sick?”

"He hasn't been feeling well since yesterday," Decima explained.

"Take me to him," you ordered. "And put this plant in a jar, but hold it with a cloth, don't touch it with your bare hands.”

They nodded in agreement. Norell and Decima took you to the slave boy. He was in the east courtyard with the other male slaves. Fortunately, he was in better condition than you thought. You went back to your little clinic and prepared a mixture of herbs for him. Decima helped you and Norell took it to the slave boy to drink. As you went through the shelves again, organizing the herbs that needed to be stored and dried, footsteps echoed in the courtyard and one of the slaves hurried over to you. You could tell from the look on his face that he was about to say something you wouldn't like.

"Domina, a guard has arrived from the palace. He says you are summoned from Palatine Hill.”

Decima looked at you, but you were looking at the slave. It's only been two days since the wedding. What the hell was this?

"Please tell him that I am unable to leave until my husband returns." You placed the plant you had in the jar and closed the lid. The slave nodded and promptly exited the room and returned to the courtyard.

"Could it possibly be Emperor Geta?" Decima asked.

"I am uncertain, but it does not seem to be an urgent matter. I will speak with Marcus when he returns. I might visit tomorrow.”

At that moment, the footsteps from the courtyard were louder, and it was evident that the individual approaching was clad in armor.

"Princess, Emperor Caracalla requests your presence. I urge you to accompany me," he stated in a tone that was both authoritative and ominous.

You knew Caracalla well, so it seems likely that he would have given this guard clear instructions. You felt sure that he wouldn't leave without you. You took a moment to find your composure and then stood up.

“I'll be ready shortly. Could you wait outside?”

The soldier nodded and walked out of the courtyard.

“Are you sure you'll be back by the time the General arrives?” Decima asked. She followed you out of the room.

“I hope so. Can you give me a hand with my attire?”

She nodded, “I'll come with you, my lady. I can't leave you alone.”

Norell rushed to your side. “Let me help too, my lady.”

You remembered how she dressed you back then. “Yes, please.”

Now that you were a married woman (matrona) you had to wear the stola, which only married women and Vestal priestesses could wear. Your clothes and jewellery had already been brought and placed in Marcus' room.  As you got dressed with the girls' help, you thought about what Caracalla wanted. It was tricky to know what he wanted, and there were lots of possibilities. Norell put a light pink stole over your long tunic, with gold and pearl embroidery from the shoulder to the end of the sleeve which came up to the elbow.

She proceeded to wrap a palla (shawl) of a similar hue and design around your waist and over your head. You then held the ends in your hand and adjusted it by tugging a little. She proceeded to gather your hair to one side, braid it and pin it with gold-embroidered hairpins. She then placed a jewel on top of your head, which resembled a crown. You then became aware that you had missed her dressing you; she did it with enthusiasm and seriousness. Even more so than Geta's slave girl.

“Thank you, Norell."

She smiled at you, but her expression also conveyed a hint of concern.

“We should leave now, Decima. I want to be back before dusk.”

She nodded and followed you. As you exited the courtyard, you felt somewhat unusual being wrapped in this new dress, but you liked it. The guard was waiting for you by the carriage and helped you into it, after all the stola was long enough to cover your feet. Decima sat next to you, and you held her hand the whole way, as you felt more secure having her with you.

Upon your arrival at the Domus Severiana, the sun was nearing the horizon. As you entered the great courtyard, you first paid respects to the statue of your father. You were informed that Caracalla was awaiting your presence in the great hall. You said Decima to wait there, and headed with the guard to the long hall to meet your half-brother. It was not often that they were in the private hall, which was reserved for political and policy meetings. These meetings were only convened when something of importance occurred or when documents required stamping.

However, it is clear that Caracalla was more interested in that sort of thing, whereas Geta did not take it seriously at all. As you approached the imposing door of the hall, you looked around. Geta was nowhere to be seen. You had only wanted to see him, not the other one, but still. Two guards greeted you and opened the door for you to enter. Caracalla was standing in the center of the hall with a sword in his hand. He was looking at someone on their knees with their hands tied behind their back. When he recognized you, he opened his hands wide.

"Ah, my dear sister, you have made it. Come dear, come closer." Said with a gesture that includes all ten fingers.

"I'd like to know why you've summoned a married woman when my husband is not at home.”

Your eyes met those of the man on the floor, and you realized with a start that it was Gaius. His face was rather disfigured, with a noticeable amount of blood and bruises. That was rather unexpected. "It is an urgent family matter, something your husband doesn't need to be involved in," he said, in a somewhat abrupt manner.

"Why is Sir Gaius tied up like that? What's going on?"

"We will decide his fate. I have ideas that will be fun to execute, but I wonder what you think."

You swallowed, you didn't like Gaius, but Caracalla's 'ideas' were usually the most bloody and violent ones.

“You can't do this!” Gaius barked. “My reputation-”

Caracalla hit him with his other hand. “Shut up, you cunt! If you cared about your reputation much you should never have returned to Rome!”

Gaius grunted as he spat on the floor.

You were getting tense. “Why exactly are you doing this?” You asked him.

“Why do you think he wanted to marry you? Was it because he was in love with you? Why did he retain that letter? To usurp the throne, of course." He brandished the sword at his throat. "That is what he had always intended.”

He was right, Gaius already admitted it to you before.

"Whoever threatens me will face the consequences." He then pointed the sword at you. "That includes you.”

You gasped, and stumbled back. Then you heard the sound of the door opening.

"Are you insane? What the hell are you doing?" Geta rushed through the door and stood in front of you. "Brother, we're here for this cunt, Gaius. What does Aurelia have to do with this?”

"Cease your dramatics. We're just talking.” Caracalla growled.

“Point your sword at the traitor then, not our sister.” Geta barked.

Caracalla rolled his eyes and passed the sword to the guard next to him. Geta turned to you and gave you a hug, which startled you. He pulled back and smiled. “I missed you, sorry to call you over for a filthy rat.” He turned his gaze to Caracalla. “Our brother was eager to butcher his cousin.”

"You could have managed it yourselves, then. Why did you feel the need to summon me?" You crossed your arms, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

"So what do you say? The game?" Geta asked Caracalla, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Yes, I want that! It makes total sense."

Geta turned to you, his grin widening. "What do you think, should our cousin set foot in the arena? Oh, it's just so much fun even thinking about it."

You observed Gaius's concerned expression. “ I wouldn't say it's fun since he can't even fight.” You said quietly, surprised at yourself for feeling a little sorry for him.

“It'll be when he finds himself before the tigers.” Caracalla laughed.

Gaius swallowed hard. You tensed up, too, remembering how big and fierce the tiger was.

"Can't you just kill him?" you asked, voice cracking a little.

But your brothers had already made up their minds.

"It's two to one, the decision's been made," Geta said.

Caracalla looked at the guards. "Take this one to the dungeon. He'll be lunch for the tigers in the arena tomorrow.” He laughed so loudly, his voice reverberating off the marble walls of the hall.

"NO! YOU CAN'T! NO!" Gaius wailed.

Geta watched him dragged roughly outside by guards. Then turned towards Caracalla.

“It's so hard to wait until tomorrow.”

Their laughter hummed in your ears as you focused on Gaius' protests and shouts, it was horrible to see a man punished like this, no matter what his crime was.

As the guards forcibly led him away, you turned your eyes Caracalla. "He is, after all, one of our blood, a member of the Severan dynasty. It is unlikely that news of his execution will be well received in Leptis Magna."

A self-confident expression spread across Caracalla's face. "I am the emperor, and as such I am entitled to act as I see fit. It is unlikely that they will dare to interfere with me."

"With us, brother," Geta looked at him sharply.

Caracalla forced a smile. "Yes, of course.” Then he turned towards you. “I told you you'd be a widow if you chose him,” he said with a smirk.

“But I didn't,” you said, unsure of the implication on his face.

"Oh yes, you chose the General, although he is not entirely without fault."

You felt a shiver run down your spine.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you truly believe that the reason he married you was entirely innocent?"

You turned your gaze to Geta, who was crossing his arms, his expression matching his brother's.

"What do you mean?" Your voice was trembling.

"Oh, our sister is unaware of her own significance," Caracalla muttered.

“I agree.” Geta snapped.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to calm down. "The General didn't know who I was when he met me. He married me because he fell in love with me."

Caracalla's laughter startled you. "Of course, I'm sure he did. We know of his plans with some of the legates. He hides himself well, but we can't be entirely sure. Has he told you about his plans? Perhaps you can find out for us?"

You crossed your arms, angry. "Oh so that's it, that's why you called me here. You want me to sell my husband out to you?"

Caracalla was looking you in the eye. 'Are you putting your husband before your family?' His voice was threatening.

Geta stepped between you and extended his hand.

'She didn't mean that, brother.'

You remained still. "General Acacius is my family, just like you. If he hasn't betrayed you all this time, he never will."

"He better not." Caracalla stepped back and sat back in his chair.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return home." You said and turned round.

"I shall accompany you," Geta said. You left the hall together. While you two walked by the fountain, he turned his head towards you. “Do not praise General Acacius in Caracalla’s presence,” he said in a stern voice.

“What?"

“Don't make him become a threat, that's all he wants.” He warned you.

You looked at him, his expression was so weird that you couldn't make sense of it.

“What about you? Don't you see him as a threat?”

“I may not like him, but I have no intention of killing him. However, I don't trust him either.” He smirked.

You were surprised that Marcus had the same opinion about him. Geta was many things, but he wasn't the dangerous one.

“One more thing. Don't take what he says about your husband seriously, I know he loves you, otherwise I wouldn't have let him marry you.” His eyes were on you, watching you intently.

You cleared your throat and averted your eyes. Geta inhaled deeply.

“I've missed you, it's so boring here in your absence and mother too.”

“Where is Lady Domna?” You asked, not out of curiosity, but because you sensed the sadness in Geta's voice and to change the subject.

“In Syria, I think. With the other members of the Severan dynasty.”

“Why did Caracalla send her away, anyway?”

“Mother, she wanted to marry him off. You know, the emperor must have a son eventually. I'm fortunate he's the older one.” He grinned.

“But he didn't want to marry?”

“No, not yet, I suppose. It's pretty annoying that he trusts Macrinus more than our mother.”

Just then Macrinus as if he heard his name being mentioned, stepped into the courtyard. He recognised you from a distance, greeted you, and hurried over to the big hall to meet Caracalla.

“I thought this was supposed to be a family meeting?” You said sarcastically.

Geta was watching him from a distance. “As I said, sister, Caracalla trusts him more than anyone.”

At that moment, you had a sudden insight. Gaius... Macrinus was the one who brought Gaius to Rome. He put him before the council, before Caracalla, even though he knew his purpose. Then when Gaius wanted to marry you, he became an open target. But why? What did he get out of all this? Suddenly, what he said to you earlier echoed in your mind.

‘You're not seeing the whole picture.’ You felt your body froze, or was he trying to clear his path to the throne? Could it be? Gaius was the likely choice if something happened to Caracalla and Geta. Now that that option is gone, who is his next target? You looked at Geta. Was it him?

“Why are you looking at me like that?" Geta asked in surprise.

Could it be that the reason he sent Julia was to get rid of Geta? You suddenly felt a loss of balance and could no longer feel your feet. Geta quickly wrapped his arm around you.

“Sister, are you alright?”

“My lady!” Decima ran to you.

“I'm alright,” you said, gently pushing Geta's arm away. He frowned. “I'm just a bit tired, I need to go home, please.”

Decima put her arm around your waist as you walked out of the courtyard.

‘You are going to attend the game tomorrow with your husband. Make sure you inform him.’ Geta reminded you.

You looked at him with a hint of apprehension as he smiled warmly. “Have a good night, sister.”

You felt somewhat uneasy about leaving him alone under the same roof as Caracalla, but you knew there was little you could do about it.

You took a deep breath as the carriage moved off. You knew that coming here would put a damper on your mood. You hated to be right. Decima held your hand tightly.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, I am.”

The coachman let out a loud swear word and the carriage shook violently. You nearly fell out of your seat.

“My lady, forgive me, but this silly boy jumped in the middle of the road.”

“Get back here!”

Another man's voice rang out down the street, followed by the cries of a child. When you popped your head out of the car, you were pretty mad at what you saw. The man was beating the boy viciously.

You got out of the carriage, and Decima was a little unsteady in her steps as she tried to keep up with you.

‘Stop! Stop it! Now!’ You shouted the man.

The man's eyes widened as he eyed you up and down. You lifted the boy up and put your arm around him, he grasped the fabric of your dress hiding behind you.

'Why are you hitting a little boy?'

'But my lady, he stole apples from my stall.'

You looked at the boy, who was ashamed.

'Decima, could I have my pouch, please?' you asked, holding out your hand.

She nodded and got it for you, handing it over. You took some coins from it and gave them to him, which was enough to buy a sack of apples.

'Thank you, Gods bless you, my lady,' he bowed his head, squinting at the boy, then turned and walked away.

'Are you Princess Aurelia?' the boy looked at you curiously.

You smiled at him and crouched down.

'Yes, I'm Aurelia. May I ask your name, young man?' You looked at his face. He was dirty and his clothes were torn.

'I don't have a name, nobody in the poorhouse has a name.'

'Poorhouse? Oh, you stole an apple because you were hungry then?' It was heartbreaking. A little boy doesn't deserve to live like this.

'No, my mother just had a baby, but she couldn't eat anything, so I was taking it to her because the baby was crying all the time, and mother's breast milk didn't come in.’

This upset you even more. You felt your stomach tighten and your eyes well up with tears. You took the child's hand. 'Let's get some food for your mother, then.'

The child's eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Really? Are you going to pay?'

You gave him a smile. 'Yes, my little dove.'

Decima approached you hesitantly. 'My lady, maybe you should ask the guards to do it? It could be dangerous.'

'Why? They're just poor people.'

'It's dark now, the General might be upset if he-’

'Don't worry about that, Decima, we'll be back when we're done. He'll understand.'

Decima gave a little smile. 'How can you be so kind-hearted like this?'

'They're my people, so it's my duty to look after them.'

'It seems your brothers have a different view on this.'

You gave her a look, and she swallowed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean-

“No, no. You’re right, they don't care about these people at all.’

When you got to the Poorhouse, you almost wished you'd done what Decima said. Life here was a different story to what you'd find elsewhere in the city. It was pretty brutal, grueling and painful.  There were a lot of people here. The situation was pretty dire. This was actually an old ruined insula, but these people had taken refuge here, living on the street and on the cobblestones. When they recognised you, they all looked a bit surprised. The kids ran over to you, looking you up and down, tugging your dress curiously, and taking a good look at the food in your hand. The boys’ mother was lying on an old mattress with the baby, and, she was really surprised to see you. The boy told his mother what had happened, she started crying with happiness. You were able to feed these people today, but you didn't know what would happen tomorrow.

The guard who picked you up from the villa came running to you a little later.

“My lady, the coachman said you were here. Did these rats hurt you?”

He looked at them angrily and pushed a boy away with his hand in disgust.

“That's nonsense! Why would they hurt me?”

You looked at the children and smiled. Decima was handing them the apples you'd brought, and they were singing as they ate. You turned to the guard.

"Come with me," you commanded, beckoning him outside. “You are to bring food supplies here every week.”

“But, my lady, they’re just homeless and poor people.”

“So? Are you suggesting that they are undeserving of life?”

“No, I'm saying-“

“Do as I say and assign two men here. One to distribute food and the other to bring supplies. I will come and check on this place every week, do you understand me?” You spoke firmly and with conviction, and it seemed to work.

“Yes, my lady.” He bowed his head.

“Good, now take me back to the villa.”

The imperial carriage arrived at the villa in the late evening. Decima helped you out and, since it had been a long day, you were feeling pretty tired. As the carriage drove away, you stepped towards Tullia, who was waiting for you at the courtyard gate of the villa. She smiled in relief.

“My lady, thank Gods you arrived before the General returns.”

“He hasn't arrived yet?” You were surprised but relieved as well.

However, just as you were about to step inside, the sound of two horses galloping was heard from down the road. All three of you suddenly became tense and looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Aurelia!”

The General's voice was loud and it came to you like ‘now you're in trouble’. You turned to look at him, he jumped off his horse and came towards you, his face stern and curious. Cato dismounted from his horse and grabbed the harnesses of both horses.

Marcus looked you up and down. “Are you going somewhere at this hour?”

You swallowed, Tullia and Decima bowed to the General and went inside. Cato and the others headed to the corral to tie up the horses.

‘I, uh-’

Marcus wrapped his arms around your waist. “Or are you dressed so elaborately for me?” He smirked. ”No need, my love, you're so beautiful already." He leaned down and kissed you. “I missed you so much, today has felt endless.” He took your hand and pulled you inside with him.

“I went to Palatine Hill.” you suddenly said. "Caracalla summoned me."

Marcus paused in the middle of the courtyard, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. His expression became somewhat stern. “What does he want at this hour?”

“Can I tell you while we eat? You just came, I assume you must be hungry.”

"That is correct,” he said and turned towards Tullia. “Bring our supper to the room.” He then proceeded to lead you by the hand towards the stairs. His grip on your hand was firm and somewhat painful, indicating his tension.

When you got to the room, he released your hand and removed the holster from his waistband.

‘Allow me,’ you demanded and approached him. Marcus stood still, his dark brown eyes on you.

'He actually called me over, earlier,' you said as you removed the leather strips from his shoulders.

Marcus frowned. He averted his gaze as you undid the strings of his armour.

'What did he exactly want?'

'He's going to throw Gaius to the tigers tomorrow.'

He raised his eyebrows, clearly thinking but not seeming surprised. 'It's not the first time for him to throw someone before animals, but I wonder why his cousin?'

'They're expecting to see us at the Colosseum tomorrow to watch the game.' You extended your arms to the other side but he stopped you by grabbing your shoulders.

'Aurelia, I asked you why.' His brown eyes piercing yours. You blinked your eyes a few times.

“He stated emphatically that Gaius had betrayed him and coveted the throne.” He narrowed his eyes, dissatisfied with your answer. He knew you well and needed to hear more. “Also he said that's why he wanted to marry me – that he'd always planned it so."

He released your shoulders and his expression softened as you began to untie the strings of the other side of his armour.

‘He didn't say anything about me?’

You paused for a moment but kept untying. ‘He suspects you're up to something. But he can't be sure, so he asked me to rat you out to him.’

Marcus took off his armour with your help.

‘What did you tell him?’

‘I said that I can't do that, of course.’ You reached for his arm to take off the armband, but he grabbed your arm first and pulled it to himself.

‘You should have done what he said,’ he murmured.

You looked at him with wide eyes. ‘Marcus, how could-’

‘To trick him, my love. You must lie.’ He wrapped his arm around your waist.

‘I see your point. You’re right. I should've. I will next time.”

He smirked and squeezed your cheek softly. “You’re just so innocent.” He kissed your cheek then.

You smiled, but you couldn't help but feel a hint of concern deep inside you. "Marcus, you know how ruthless he is. Please be careful.”

"There is no need for concern. I believe everything is going as I predicted. I found the rat among the Legates who was spying for him and Macrinus. I will take my steps accordingly.”

"Is his intention to seize the throne?”

"Macrinus? I think so, but I'm not sure how to prevent him from making his move.”

You were feeling a bit nervous that Marcus might be putting himself in danger. Macrinus was a dangerous and clever enemy. You were suddenly reminded of that dream you'd had. Your mother's voice echoed in your ears again. 'Think.' Could he be the real threat? To you? To Marcus?

Marcus was observing your face, “It bothered you, didn't it? Let's put that aside for now.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door and Norell brought your supper. 'Just the right moment,' Marcus said with a smile.

Once she left, Marcus turned towards you. "Let me help you out of that dress so you can eat more comfortably."

He helped you remove the palla and the stola, leaving you both in your tunics. You felt really relaxed.

"I'm going to have to get used to this dress; it covers me quite a bit," you said with a laugh.

Marcus smiled. "It looked good on you. I must say, though, that I prefer you undressed.”

He smiled when your cheeks flushed and pulled you closer, offering a kiss. Then he sat down next to the table and sat you on his lap again, which you got used to immediately because you liked it. You had eaten a little when Mau came running from the balcony and jumped on your lap. This caused you to reflexively pull your hand back, but you forgot that you were holding a glass, so the wine spilled on you and a little on Marcus. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“Apologies. Mau, look what you did!”

You took her off your lap, your white tunic was soaked with red color of wine.

“Too bad,” you mumbled, attempting to clean it with a cloth, but it seemed to be ineffective.

“I wouldn't say that.”  Marcus' eyes were locked on your breasts and nipples, which were on full reveal thanks to the wine. Like an open invitation for him. His breathing became heavy, and he supported you around the waist with one hand, lowering his head to your breasts. He was like a hunter approaching his prey. Your heart began to beat rapidly with a thrilling anticipation. As his prey, you stood still and waited impatiently for what he was about to do, closing your eyes. You gasped when his hot breath hit your wet skin, and you felt his tongue on your sternum, biting your lower lip hard. "Mmm, delicious. It is, without a doubt, the finest wine I have ever tasted." He smirked mischiveously.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I believe I have accidentally included myself on the menu."

His eyes met yours, and a spark of desire ignited in your soul. "I'm going to enjoy eating you.”

Then he kissed you passionately, hungrily. Meanwhile, Mau was enjoying the food on the tray, but you were preoccupied to pay her much attention. Marcus was holding you in his lap with one hand and undressing you with the other. His fingers were eager than ever, and in the process of undressing you, they ripped the fabric of your tunic. Which was a massive turn-on for you. Once you were completely naked on his lap, he stood up and hurried you to the bed, accompanied by your giggles.

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[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

my knees shake / my heart beats like a drum

》 Feels Like I’m in Love, Kelly Marie

》 Aitana Bonmati x Reader

》 the “language of flowers” is an example of cryptological communication that attributes meanings to flowers and plants, determined by cultural beliefs, legends, and myths

“I need flowers that mean I’m done with you, get married already, what do you have for me?”

The giggles that fill your shop are cute enough to overcome Aitana’s embarrassment at the looks of the other customers.

In her defense, the place is usually empty this time of the day, too early for an apology’s rush in and too late for a date’s pick up.

“Don’t worry Teresa, she means well”, you reassure the old lady, who turns around with a questioning – and quite judgemental, if you ask the footballer – glance.

The bouquet arranged for her every month to bring to her late husband’s grave is almost ready, you just have to cut and adjust some little touches.

As she waits for your attention, the brunette dances around the shop on the heels of her shoes, gaze wandering from the elaborated compositions exposed to the wall covered with green leaves and colourful notes left by your customers for you or their loved ones.

She always tries to spot the new additions.

“I’m all yours, stargirl”

“Can I have another name?”

“I don’t know, let’s ask the mural with your face right around the corner”

The ease with which you can stain Aitana’s cheeks in red is quite embarrassing, if not for the genuine smile the flirt always comes with. She could let you tease her all day just to keep talking with you and be able to pull an open laugh out of you.

“What were you saying about getting married?”

The Catalan’s brain short-circuits, she needs a moment to realise what you’re talking about as her mouth opens and closes several times to your amusement.

“Right! My friends! My friends invited me for dinner. I will be third-wheeling again, they need to get married already!”

“Your football friends, right? The one with all the tattoos who looks like could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll?”

“How do you do that?”, she asks, pointing at you with a frenetic moving finger, “You meet her once, how do you get people so well?”

“I have to, people don’t come in knowing what they want but asking for what they need”

You smile at Aitana’s questioning gaze, starting to walk around the shop to gather some flowers and decorative leaves to create a little table piece for her. Your hands move in precise motions, somehow knowing exactly where to place everything.

“I need a flower that means I’m happy you invited me to your house warming party, but I barely remember your husband name or someone could enter and ask for something that means I cheated on you with our kid’s teacher, but please just think I’m suddenly a hopelessly romantic and so on”, you explain, even faking different voices and accents to prove your point.

“You’re kidding”

“You’d be surprised”

~

“I told you Tana, you don’t have to bring flowers every time we invite you over”

Ingrid welcomes the Catalan inside, even so accepting the beautiful gift with excitement to find the perfect spot for it.

“Oh, please! Those are not for us, but just an excuse to see the flower girl!”

The cat’s toy that flies through the entire room perfectly hits Mapi’s head as soon as she joins them from the kitchen.

Completely ignoring the commotion, her girlfriend places the little arrangement in the middle of the table, carefully caressing the long green leaves and noticing how the colours perfectly complement the house’s decor.

She turns to spot the blushing spreads on Aitana’s face.

“Her flowers are beautiful”

“They are”, the taller footballer confirms, an amused smile on her lips.

“She’s cute too”, she admits.

“She definitely is!”

María is fast enough to avoid the punch coming from her friend – the midfielder may be shorter, but her arms are impressive.

“Do you remember that bouquet I came back home with last month?”, the defender asks the Norwegian, who nods with curiosity, “Well, I happen to mention our anniversary to our little Tana here. I somehow find myself in this flower shop, watching her talking and walking around as she owns the place, and the actual owner flirting without shame right in front of my salad–”

This time, the hit lands on her shoulder with just enough force to shut her up, but not enough to stop the laughter erupting from Aitana’s so-called friends.

~

The day after spending almost 30 euros in flowers she finds herself giving away to the training staff, Aitana knows she needs to put an end to it.

You’re setting up the shop for the day, putting out some green arrangements and new compositions.

It’s definitely too early to be here, but she has to talk to you without the fear of being interrupted by Pablo – the serial dater who buys a bunch of roses every two weeks for different girls – or worse, Teresa.

She marches into the place, dragging you inside and almost giving you a heart attack.

“I need a flower that says I’ve been coming to your shop an obnoxious amount of times the past couple of months, buying flowers I don’t actually need with any excuses I can come up with, just to talk to you ‘cus I have a huge crush and can’t ask you out to save my life, do you think you can help me?”

You study Aitana with a huge smile on your lips, closing the small distance and holding her face between your hands to properly meet her eyes. Her face is red, and her breath is shortened by the rushed confession.

She’s never been more beautiful.

“You don’t need flowers for that”

The kiss that follows is soft and full of meaning.

[wasitforrevenge]

new romantics

pairing: MODERN AU!college azriel x female reader

warnings: may be some triggering content including tampon is a douchbag at a party, mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of sexual activity but nothing major, smut books mentioned (hehehe) a fight occurs but can you blame him? he’s just defending your honor ugh, two idiots in love who want nothing but each other and can’t admit it, no use of y/n, imagine her as you, because it is YOU! half editted… ill get to it later i promise

word count: 4.5k

summary: your new study partner is better than you first realize… and now you can’t stop thinking about him, but he can’t stop thinking of you either.

authors note: hi first time writing for acotor! been a fan of these books for a while and my baby azriel does something to me!!! so here’s something i spent the night writing it was 10 different things before it was this lol! pls like, reblog and comment! thank you everyone for reading! photo credit to pinterest, and please i strive to do better so any thoughts pls free feel to let me know! thank you for the support! this is the first time i’ve had the energy to write in months so pls dont go too hard

you met azriel in a greek mythology lecture that you both ended up in during the second semester of your sophomore year. getting partnered with an incredibly built and handsome man for a history report your teacher assigned was the least of your problems when you realized how fucking kind and beautiful azriel is on the inside and out.

the real problem came when you realized how hard you were falling for this man when you started hanging out casually, hitting the coffee stand before class or getting food after a long day. you learned so much about him in a matter of months and couldn’t get him out of your head.

you never spoke existence to your feelings for him, mainly because you didn’t want to ruin a very good potential friendship but partly because you didn’t think you were good enough for someone like him. you’ve heard little whispers about his other… activities and you couldn’t help the way it made you feel.

at the start of your junior year, you and azriel were practically best friends and it just felt so natural. the way you two were together. the way your conversations flowed and the way the silence was never deafening when you were together. you spent time cuddling on the couch in your living room watching movies and rating tv shows and going to visit parks around town and getting high as fuck. once time you had even gone crazy and took some acid and spent hours at the aquarium watching all the fish. you studied for classes together, the one you shared and the ones you both took on your own.

you and azriel were always testing out new recipes in his large kitchen. its wonderful that he lives alone. alone as in by himself but you cannot glance over the fact that the rhysand and feyre along with cassian and nesta live on the same floor of this apartment building close to campus. you luckly only live 2 floors down, a thing you realized when you managed to see him in the elevator about a week or two after you first started studying together.

you were debating all summer about confessing your feelings to him but could not gather the courage to bring yourself to admit it to him and face rejection. you couldn’t mess up the relationship between you already. he was your best friend and you really didn’t have too many besides him. you’ve met his family and have spend a lot of time with them, they’re all practically adopted you at the point, they welcomed you with smiles and open arms (besides amren but they told you she’s always like that.)

but a couple weeks into the semester, you and nesta were standing in a kitchen of a person you don’t know debating on what shitty cheap alcohol you’ll be indulging in tonight. it was the first big back to school party and it was still hot as hell out so you were dressed in dark denim shorts and nice tank top along with your black converse.

you and nesta instantly clicked when you met. bonding over smutty books and all the tv shows you managed to watch. she’s felt like your first real girl-friend ever, you guys got some comfortable together and every time you guys hung out, it felt like no time had passed. it was refreshing to have someone to talk to. she also happens to be the only one who knows about the feelings you harbor for your other best friend.

as you’re about to pour the tequila into your red solo cup, you hear someone call nesta’s name and she tells you she’ll be right back before scurrying off to whichever of her friends was calling her. leaving you there alone not knowing anyone at the party, nesta told you the rest of the group was going to meet you there but you have yet to see any of them as you turn your head around the room.

as you fill your cup and turn to put the bottle back down on the counter, you feel a hand glide around your waist and are suddenly aware of a man extremely too close your liking. “hey baby” he said as he slurred his words, clearly intoxicated, by the way he looked and smelled. it sent more warnings through your head even after he grabbed you like that. you had to leave, this couldn’t happen. thoughts are rushing through your head. you move your hand to push his arm off you as you turn around to be face to face with a tall blonde with long hair.

“what was that for?” he drags out as he tried to put his hand back on you. you instantly tried to move towards the way nesta went and told him, “please get off!” but he was too fast and held your upper arm in a death grip before he tugged you closer to his chest, his other hand back on your waist like the first time he did it. your eyes close in fear as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, but he’s gone in an instant.

it all happened so fast. all you see is a large, muscular, tattooed arm flying in front of you, hitting the man who was on you just seconds ago. you watched shocked as you finally lock in to the situation before you.

azriel beating the shit out of the man who had just laid his hands on you.

azriel swung his fist again towards him, hitting him square in the jaw, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at him, having another punch already landing with his other fist.

the man doesn’t respond before he swings back at azriel and managed to get a decent swing in, the hit landed to his lip but azriel doesn’t move at all. he’s standing still in the spot, continuing to tower over him.

azriel shoved the man back into the counter and landed a powerful hook right to his nose simultaneously. he cried out as it made contact, “fuck dude c’mon,” he reached up to grab it, blood pouring from his broken nose and busted lip. he steps closer as he removes his hand looking at the red liquid that has held onto his skin, ready to defend himself against the beautiful man that your eyes cannot stray from.

but azriel is faster and before he could even blink, managed to grab a hold of his shirt and pull him up to where his toes barely touched the floor. his hands fall at his sides and his eyes widen in fear as azriel gets closer to his face, leaning down to whisper something in his ear that you can’t hear over the loud music, people partying and the screaming and crying in your heart as you watched this all unfold.

suddenly azriel is tossing the man back into the counter and he barely managed to grab it and hold on, azriel suddenly grows larger, as if he could get any bigger, and leans to spit out the blood that had collected in his mouth behind him. and suddenly your attention is focused on the warmth now englufing your wrist. your eyes immediately register the sight of him standing in front of you, this was warm and right, his hands on you. it just felt so right.

his other hand reached out and gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. the way the sense of safety coursed through you with his simple touch just confirmed, yet again, that this was going to be so hard for you to tell him.

“hey baby…” he spoke softly, his eyes darted between both yours. his attention solely on you. he let his finger rub against your cheek as he finished, “are you okay?” you can’t help the feeling the shoots through you at the use of the pet name and the look of shock that painted your face. not knowing if it came from, whether it was from what unfolded in front of you at this party or the fact he still holding your face and talking to you like this, so sweetly.

you blinked a couple times and the realization hit you that you’ve just been standing there, staring into his beautiful eyes. not paying attention to the group of people that crowded around as the fight was happening or the looks you guys are getting from other party goers that still surrounded you. the only thing you can stand to focus on his gaze.

azriel.

“i don’t know,” you almost whisper towards him, feeling his warmth covering you both. before you can talk again, he moves his scarred hand from your wrist, you feel almost… empty at the loss of contact but that doesn’t last long as he slipped his hand into yours and intertwined his fingers with yours as he guided you towards the front door.

you passed by so many people, you tried not to pay attention to all the looks you were getting. girls stared as they realized it wasn’t themselves in azriel’s grasp, but you. it was your hand he was holding. your heart beat at just the thought of it, your nerves were already shot as the events unfolded not even 10 minutes ago and this did not help one bit.

your eyes manage to catch nesta’s in the crowd, her eyes widen as she takes in the sight before her, azriel holding your hand and leading you out of the party. oblivious to what actually happened to cause this, she gave you a huge smile and two thumbs up. you cant help but silently chuckle at your friend despite the other overwhelming feelings you have. you’ll explain the situation later when you text her but you were sure eventually she’d hear what happened.

he leads you out the front door and looks back at you with a small smile as you trail behind him. he walked you over, without a word and hands still intertwined and you finally notice your next to his old beat up mustang on the side of the street, the one that smells like him and the faint smell of weed that always lingers regardless of the last time he smoked in there.

he opened the car door for you and you released your hand from his and got into the passengers seat. once you were in, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt for you, giving it a tug to make sure it was connected before smiling down at you from outside the car. he shut the door satisfied and walked around the back of the car to open his own door and sat inside.

the silence is comfortable. it always has been, you pray that sometimes it’s awkward or uncomfortable but it never is. you sit in your seat, eyes staring down towards the hand he had been holding, almost in disbelief, that he defended you like that. you’ve never seen azriel angry like that either. he turns to face you, wanting you to meet his eyes.

azriel walked in the front door of the party, after having a pretty day. the customers at the restaurant he works truly sucked today. small tips and even shittier people. all he wanted to do was smoke off some steam and get drunk with cassian and rhys. he knew you were going to be here. cassian mentioned it in passing while talking about nesta so he was also on the look out for you. the girl who managed to catch his heart after having been partnered together. azriel couldn’t help the way he felt about you even though it almost felt wrong to him.

he didn’t want to take advantage of you, he knew you were shy and never really been in a relationship. he found that out when he walked into the kitchen of cassian and nesta’s apartment, and overheard nesta telling cass all about you after her and you hung out for the first time outside the group. so he just tried to ignore his feelings but regardless of that fact you were his bestfriend. he just couldn’t escape you.

and when he walked into that kitchen to see tamlin standing over you, your arm tight in his grip, the way your eyes were slammed shut trying to back away from him. he didn’t even think. he was there pulling him off you before he could even recognize what he was doing. throwing punches left and right towards the man who dared touched you. he barely even registered the hit he managed on no one but him can put his hands on you. he’s had that thought before but never brought life to it, but here? now?

all thoughts of guilt for feeling that way vanished. there was no way he was letting anyone touch you. but him. that’s all he wanted. he wanted you in a way he didn’t think was reciprocated. love was a funny thing to him, something he was never accustomed to until after he met rhysand and cassian.

his family never showed it, he lives with the constant knowledge of that every time he looks down at his hands. he thought about the way you never judged him of them, like it was nothing at all to you but that was everything to him.

the one sided crush he harbored on mor for a couple years was nothing in comparison to the way he felt about you. his few flings he had over the past couple years (after he realized it was pointless liking mor, also… because she slept with cassian) were mildly of convince and of urge but once he met you, he knew he was a goner.

he stopped the girls. the stopped the meaningless flirting and hooks up and took to just pleasuring himself to the thought as you, as shitty as it made him felt after. sometimes he just couldn’t look you in the eye the next time he saw you but you never said anything. you never commented on it and he silently thanked you in his head.

but right now, after he pulled you out of the party, scarred hand in yours, he needed you to look him in the eyes. but you still hadn’t and he couldn’t just keep staring at the face of the beautiful woman in front of him while it was coated with anxiety and exhaustion.

azriel lifted his distorted hand to your face meeting the soft warm skin that was your own. he gently brought your face to meet his gaze and as you locked eyes, the spark hit you yet again.

gods he was breathtaking. dark hair that covered to above his ears, the eyes that seemed to stare into yours every single time they met, the tattoos that covered him and his golden brown skin that you swore shined outright during different points in the day. your heart cannot handle this man.

“please,” he practically whispered you barely even registered that he said it before he continued, “are you okay, what can i do?” the sound in his voice felt desperate as his eyes bore into yours, the feel of his hand on her face, you couldn’t help but lean into his grasp and close your eyes, taking in the feel of him. you responded a moment later after letting out a sigh and looking at him again.

“can we just go home? i just want to sleep” you asked him with a pleading tone as you feel his thumb rub against your cheek for the second time that night. ugh the things this man does to you. all you wanted was for him to hold you, to feel the press of his body against yours. anything to get the feeling of someone else off you. “yeah baby, we can.” he said gently before he moved his hand down to yours and gave you a light squeeze before he turned the car on and shifted into gear, pulling off in the direction of home.

once you arrived back to the apartment building, he parked in the lot next to the front door and moved around the car to open your door, he gave you his hand as you stepped out. he went to put his hand at your lower back as he opened the door for you but decided against just in case that was a lot for you right now. he did not want to make it worse. he could see the fear in your eyes back there, no way would he subject you to that if you weren’t comfortable with it. so instead he just followed behind you, hitting the button to the elevator to take you up to your floor.

the elevator luckily isn’t taking forever today so when it opens, you and azriel step in and he goes to hit the floor for your apartment but your hand reaches out and stops him. “can we go to yours please?” your head moves up to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on where your hand is on his wrist. a second later his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small nod and hits the button for the fifth floor. you remove your hand and lean against the wall right next to him, his hand reaches out and entangles his bumpy fingers with yours.

“is this okay?” he asks you. you can barely hold it in after that, the tears finally fall. he feels the sudden change in your body as he moves closer to you but removing his hand from yours in fear that you didn’t want to touch him. but in reality that’s all you want. you want him to touch you. you want him to love you. you want everything with him. its all just so overwhelming, everything that has happened.

he goes to speak but before he can get a word out, your body is on his engulfing him in a hug around his long torso, he instantly wraps his arms around your smaller frame. he can feel your body shake with tears and all he wants to do is make sure that no one ever makes you feel like this again. you deserve so much better, he only wishes he could be better for you too. you squeeze him tighter and he just holds you until the elevator door opens and you pull away from him. mascara and tears running down your face, you can see it on his shirt. he smiles at you before he pulls his hands to your face and wipes your cheeks off with his rough yet soft hands.

you cant help the laugh that escapes you as he wipes his hands on the t-shirt staining it even more with the leftover residue on your face. he gives you a chuckle before connected your hands yet again, walking with you out of the elevator to his one bedroom apartment. he fishes in his pocket with his other hand and pulls out his keys. he unlocked the door and held it open for you to walk in.

your senses are taken over by the smell of him. the smell of his candle lingered from the coffee table covered with textbooks in the large living room, he has a basket of blankets he keeps in the corner because he knows you get cold watching tv. he has a big L shaped couch which had a 60 inch tv across the room, with a boatload of dvds underneath. something you both agreed was a dying art. you and azriel swear physical media will make a comeback one day but you guys will never forget how they ruined it!

his space was a lot bigger since you have a two bedroom apartment. but it was perfect for him. azriel had loved the way he made his space his own, his bass guitars set up in the corner next to his collection of vinyl records and a record player that rhys and cassian got him when he turned 21… as well as a shit ton of booze. he had a bookshelf that held his favorites, as well as your own.

he bought a copy of almost every book you talked about so that he was in the loop with what you were reading. even the ones you didn’t talk about that he caught on your nightstand or in your reading nook. when he bought one of those and read it, his jaw dropped. he immediately thought of nesta and her smutty books but this sent something else though his body. he couldn’t help but keep reading… he wondered if you thought about him while reading these scenes of them ravishing each other, in every way imaginable. he sure did! his right hand hates him!

and you definitely did to… thought about him in ways that you shouldn’t. thinking about him doing all those things to you. the way you knew he would take care of you. the way you knew you could take care of him, despite how inexperienced you are. the thoughts drove you crazy. it was practically all day and every day at this point. thinking about the way his hands would feel running up your thighs or the way his lips would feel on yours.

now here you are, standing in his living room, just wanting all that and little did you know… he did too.

“hey az…” you uttered towards him. he was already next to you as you spoke, “can we lay down please?” your voice was barely a whisper.

he didn’t even need to speak, he just brought you to his room. he lead you to sit on the corner of the bed as he turned and riffled through his dresser, pulling out a large dark green shirt and handing it to you with a smile, “change into this, i’ll be right back.”

“can i take a shower?” you asked azriel shyly. “yes of course, one sec.” you watched as he walked out the room and shut the door behind him. you took your shoes off and placed them by the bedroom door next to azriel’s shoes. he came back in a second later with a fresh towel and a water bottle.

“here you go, you already know where the shower is,” he says with a small chuckle. you give him a grateful smile and a thank you as you took the items from his hands and gave him one last look before heading into his connecting bathroom.

you turned on the hot water and you stripped out of your clothes and threw them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the bathroom. you got in the shower and felt instantly better. the way the water followed hot you could feel the touch of the man from the party washing away, only to be replaced with thoughts of azriel touching you instead. you reviled in it.

you washed your hair and body with his shampoo, conditioner and body wash. silently thanking him for not using 3-in-1 (nesta found out that’s what cassian used and flipped shit) you finished your shower and dried off with the towel he gave you.

you put on his t-shirt that made its way down to your mid thigh when it was on completely. you loved when you were covered in him. you walked back out into the room and didn’t see azriel so you took your seat at the edge of the bed and waiting for him to come back. you sat there and picked at your nails, feeling so wore out you didn’t even want to cry anymore.

azriel came in two minutes later, dressed him long flannel pajama pants and you can see the band of his underwear peeking out as he gets closer to you. he changed after you went into the bathroom, and then went to the kitchen to make sure he was stocked up on the tea you liked and the snacks you guys enjoy together, just in case you got hungry.

he ran around his living room and cleaned random odds and ends. putting dishes in the sink, folding the blankets thrown on the couch and organizing his cd collection. anything to busy himself instead of thinking of you in his shower. anything to get his mind off the amazing woman just in the other room. he hears the shower turn off and waited a few more moments before heading back into the room.

he moved the covers down to make room for you as he said, “after you princess,” with a smile on his face. you returned it and stood up to make your way to the bed but not before turning to hug him again. his arms wrapped around you as you mumbled “thank you azriel,” into his chest. you hold on for a few moments before releasing him. he looks at you before motioning to the bed, “i would do anything for you, you know that.” you felt your cheeks grow red at the thought, at the knowledge that he would.

you climb into the bed and laid your head on the pillow, turning to look at azriel, you wondered why he was still standing. “az are you coming?” you said bashfully. he blinked and bent down to the bed to be eye level with you. “i’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight.” you could feel the way your face dropped in disappointment as you registered what he said. he saw it too and felt it deep in his chest.

he stood up and was about to say goodnight but you beat him to it, “azriel please i need you.”

you could feel how desperate you sounded but you didn’t care. you just needed him. next to you right now. he said nothing else as he moved the blankets again, but this time he was under them. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his chest, your hand found it’s way over his fast beating heart and his tattooed arm wrapping around you. the warmth and scent of him took over everything in your body. you finally felt safe. your legs tangled together as you eventually fell asleep to the rise and fall of his chest.

“i need you too.” he said to a room with no one awake but him to hear.

part 2??? i would love to write one! let me know what you think! i’d love to keep writing for acotor so yay! pls enjoy :) i’m on the edge of my seat writing this hehe

[cloudzoro]

Star | Dracule Mihawk ♡

one piece materlist | mihawk masterlist

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“Not a star in the sky could compare to you”, He groans as he guides his cock to your entrance. His words get caught in his throat as he pushes inside you.

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genre: smut (minors dni), fluff? it's very romantic smut

wc: 2.3k

pairings: mihawk x reader

cw: fem!reader, unprotected sex, oral, mirror sex, praise, so much praise, squirting

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You finish putting in your earrings and step back, examining yourself in the bathroom mirror. You have a vanity that your husband built for you, but he was currently getting ready in your bedroom, and you wanted to surprise him. You had bought a new dress and didn't want your Husband, Dracule Mihawk, to see it until you were ready. You know you look good, smiling at your reflection. You think now is a good time to show your Husband the absolute stunner of a dress you've chosen. Maybe he'll like it so much he'll be too distracted to take you to this boring dinner. You grab your necklace from the bathroom counter, a subtle but gorgeous piece he'd gifted you on your first anniversary.

“Mihawk?” You call from the other side of the door. You crack open the door to see he's turned away from you, assessing his own formal outfit in the mirror.

“Yes, Darling?” he says, turning to meet your eye. He's quiet when he first lays his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe. There's a faint smile on his lips, one that's reserved for you, as he wordlessly takes the necklace from your outstretched hand. You stand between him and the mirror, watching his reflection as he delicately clasps the necklace.

Mihawk wraps his arms around you from behind, hands roaming over your waist and hips. He kisses the left side of your neck, pressing his tongue against the skin. His lips trail across your shoulder and over the sleeve of the dress, all the way to your left hand, where he presses the most delicate of kisses to your wedding ring.

“You look gorgeous, y/n”, he compliments, turning you in his arms so he can peck your lips. “so beautiful”. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face when he speaks to you like this.

“You look handsome,” you say now that you're able to get a proper look at him in his suit, though it's not too dissimilar from his everyday attire. He rolls his eyes; despite all the years you've been married, he's still unable to take a compliment.

“Thank you, Darling,” he says, trying to brush your compliment off. “ But I fear bringing you around the guild may be dangerous when you look the way you do. Especially Crocodile and that stupid clown.”

“Then don't.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don't take me to dinner”, you say, matter of factly. Your hand reaches up to unbutton his shirt, and he lets out an amused huff once he realises your intentions.

“And what do you suggest I do instead?” he says, eyes not leaving yours as he waits for you to tell him what he wants to hear.

“You can lay me down right here and fuck my brains out.” Your words are sharp and clear as they hit his ears. He knows you're referring to the bed by' right here', but he has slightly different plans.

“I still would like to take you dancing, though, my dear”, he says, starting up an old record that blares throughout your room. He pulls you impossibly close, one hand placed low on your waist and the other holding your hand. He slowly starts to sway the two of you.

The dance is intimate and full of passion - as your private moments with your husband typically are. Mihawk is actually quite fond of dancing, having learnt it when he was young; it's one of his favourite pastimes to partake in with you. The way he's holding you has his leg pressed between your legs, and he opts for a dance style much more sensual than a traditional waltz. Dancing is such a simple act, yet it inspires Mihawk.

He admires the grace with which you move as he leans down to whisper filthy things in your ear. He's teasing you, pulling you close to him and riling you up until you're tearful and desperate for some kind of contact. He takes a step back to guide you into a spin and then back against his chest. He kisses your shoulder, light as a feather, and compliments your dance skills.

You're sick of the teasing now, so you turn in Mihawk's arms to face him again and pull him into an aggressive kiss, which He returns with equal force. Your Husband might bend to your every whim, but he is still a feared man throughout the world, and you're reminded of this when his grip tightens on your waist, and he lets out a terrifying growl against your lips. He pulls away from the kiss, chuckling at the way you try to chase his lips. His strength and power are attractive to you, and the force with which he holds you in place has you melting in his arms. He just stands there, keeping you until you start to whine about the sudden lack of affection.

“Oh, you're not enjoying our dance anymore?”

“Of course I am, but I need you so bad.”

“Need me to do what?” he asks, still holding you. He knows precisely what you want but wants to hear you say it. Mihawk is proud and secure, but he still likes to hear how badly you need him. You struggle momentarily in his arms, frustrated by his lack of action. Your frustration is amusing to your Husband, who smirks at you until he finally gets what he wants.

“Need you to make me cum. Please. I want you to fuck me,” You say, there's a slight wobble of need in your voice, and Mihawk eats it up. He offers you a genuine smile, one that you see more often than others assume, and guides you over to the vanity, turning you around so you can see yourself in it. His touch is delicate as he tilts your chin up so you can look at your own face.

“Keep your eyes on your reflection, I want you to see how gorgeous you look when I make you cum”, he says. In an act that would shake the world if anyone were to see it, Dracule Mihawk drops to his knees. Being able to bring a man as respected and feared as Mihawk down beneath you makes you feel like the most powerful woman on the globe.

He bunches the skirt of your dress up to your hips. He holds the skirt with one hand as he tears your underwear down your legs so he can get at your pussy. He leans forward, skipping any warm-up, and goes straight to burying his tongue in your hole. He licks at your walls as you moan his name. Mihawk listens for every gasp and little noise that leaves your lips, committing them to memory. He drops the skirt, allowing it to cover him, and uses a hand to rub your neglected clit. He seems dead set on making you cum as quickly as possible.

You're doing as your Husband asked, keeping your eyes open and on the reflection before you. His tongue is driving you closer and closer to the edge. Mihawk has told you several times that his favourite positions are ones where he can clearly see your face, and now you're starting to see why. This is the most at home you've ever seen yourself, you're basically glowing. You're hot and bothered and oh so desperate to cum, but you're happy and satisfied. The slurping noises from beneath you insinuate that Mihawk feels the same way.

A few more well-placed flicks of his tongue have your legs shaking and your orgasm washing over you. Your first orgasm is energising, it leaves you with all of your nerves alight and sensitive but eager for your Husband's touch. He pulls away, letting your dress fall behind you and stands up. He's pleased that you listened to him and watched yourself.

He orders you to keep your eyes on the mirror for a little longer to let him appreciate the dress a little longer. You obey, soaking up the praise he showers you with.

When he grows impatient, done with ghosting kisses over your neck, he helps you unzip the dress. He delicately pulls the dress down, offering a hand to steady you as you step out of the garment. He lays it over the ottoman so that you can hang it back up when you're finished and then returns his attention to you.

He kisses you, his usual intensity ever present as he walks you over to the bed. He pushes you gently, not enough to cause you harm, and you follow along. You lay on the bed, leaning on your elbows to watch as he slowly removes his clothes.

Watching Mihawk strip for you is like watching a god show vulnerability. You feel special knowing you're the only one who gets to see him like this. You're so busy appreciating the new exposed skin that you barely register that he's talking dirty to you. Mihawk stalks towards you like a panther, kneeling on the bed and crawling over so he's hovering on top of you.

“My pretty girl” he hums, taking your nipple into his mouth and squeezing your other boob. He shows some love to your chest, kissing across it to take your other nipple into his mouth. He could go on like this for hours, kissing over your body, leaving marks and praises as he goes. You squirm beneath him, his intensity suffocating you. “If you want me to give you more, you're going to have to help me out first”, he says, rolling so that he's beneath you now. He guides you down to his cock, and you take it into your mouth as far as you can without gagging.

You hold your head still, encouraging him to move his hips. You let his taste settle in your mouth as you tongue over the veins on his cock. He's happy to place his hand on the back of your head and gently thrust into your wet mouth. He's careful not to go too far, though you wouldn't mind if he got a little rougher with you. Mihawk moans as you swallow around him, encouraging you to repeat the action. The next flick on your tongue against his cock has him pulling you off him. You look so good, staring up at him with hazy eyes and a drooling, open mouth, that he almost cums just looking at you.

Mihawk is happy to praise and talk you through sex, but when it comes to receiving, he's very reserved. The sighs and moans you do manage to pull from him with your tongue have pride rising to the surface of your skin. The low whimper he gives you as you lick at his tip is pretty enough to have you releasing moans of your own around him.

“I wanna cum inside you”, he states, pulling you up for another kiss. You nod into the kiss, and he flips you over, so now you're beneath him once again. Mihawk sits back on his heels, admiring your body. “You look beautiful in that dress, but Darling, you are breathtaking without it”, he says, running calloused fingers along the plush of your thighs.

“Not a star in the sky could compare to you”, He groans as he guides his cock to your entrance. His words get caught in his throat as he pushes inside you. He takes in the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock, the feeling makes his brain go fuzzy. He's cursed you out jokingly, of course, for the way your body shuts off his brain, but it's different seeing it in action. His gaze darkens, and his breaths come out in sharp growls. You flinch as his teeth graze your neck when he leaves a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss there. It would be so easy for him to sink his teeth into your vulnerable skin, and it wouldn't be the first time he's done so. You've seen his aggression on the battlefield; this is a different beast you're facing.

Mihawks thrusts start heavy; there's no build-up of strength. He reaches places you never thought possible and angles your hips so he can have you kicking your feet at the intense pleasure. He's an expert in the field of your body, years of experimental research have led him to be able to have you soak the sheets in minutes. He knows exactly where to aim his thrusts to have you gushing. He grinds himself inside of you between thrusts, complimenting you through gritted teeth as he tries to keep his sounds of euphoria to himself. One of his skilled hands reaches down to play with your clit. Mihawks movements are practised and deliberate, an inherited skill gained from being your husband.

“Play with those beautiful tits for me”, he instructs, keeping his hawk eyes glued to your chest. He watches as you obey him, squeezing your tits and playing with your tits. The sensations are all-consuming, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm. You're overwhelmed and unable to tell him you're about to cum. You don't need to tell him, he knows. From the rapid spasming of your pretty pussy to your incoherent whimpers, he can read you like a book. “Go ahead, sweet girl. Make a mess for me”

Your legs shake, and your torso tenses as you cry out your husband's name. Your release feels white-hot beneath your skin, and you can barely register the way you're gushing all over your husband's abdomen. Mihawk is unbothered by the mess, in fact, he encourages it. His orgasm follows closely behind as he fills you with his hot cum. When you've both come down from your highs, chest heaving and lazy smiles reserved only for one another to see, he peels himself off of you to assess the damages to the sheets.

“We may have to sleep in the guest bed tonight while the mattress dries,” he says. “For now, though, let's get you to the shower”

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Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn