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chanluster · 4 years ago

Text

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan @minaamhh @leescrt

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“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face.

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation.

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy.

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart.

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening.

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit.

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.”

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?”

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?”

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.”

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs.

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination.

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible.

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?”

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels.

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue.

Chan himself used this system — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head.

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?”

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.”

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!”

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face.

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names.

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration.

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched.

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs.

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass.

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist.

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go.

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled.

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours.

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth.

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not.

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of.

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust.

You wanted this as much as he did.

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel.

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him.

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit.

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on.

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing.

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve.

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you.

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs.

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more.

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious.

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation.

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation.

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth.

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin.

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked.

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest.

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants.

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes.

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers.

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big.

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him.

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost.

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron.

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you.

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway.

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds.

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you.

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence.

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe.

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were.

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter.

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?”

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.”

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms.

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets.

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before.

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension.

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS:

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful

“This asshole,” you muttered.

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS:

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing.

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation.

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness.

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant.

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress.

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats.

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung.

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began.

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future.

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.”

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned.

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over.

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances.

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.”

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank.

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.”

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more.

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?”

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful.

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.”

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?”

“You might have to put a hold to that.”

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take.

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind.

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go.

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal.

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement.

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered.

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly.

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?”

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free.

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour.

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams.

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat.

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing.

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable.

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches.

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table.

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head.

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party.

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves.

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him.

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied.

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication.

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon.

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back.

Why did you even come here?

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him.

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings.

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child.

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration.

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears.

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.”

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer.

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes.

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?”

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.”

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time.

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends?

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again.

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.”

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms.

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual.

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?”

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?”

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again.

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you.

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand.

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.”

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare.

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!”

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!”

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you.

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him.

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings.

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin.

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?”

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear.

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor.

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face.

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed.

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!”

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal.

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud.

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day.

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his.

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing.

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability.

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more.

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire.

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut.

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago.

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy.

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem.

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets.

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it.

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this.

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers.

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight.

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world.

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you.

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely.

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer.

Bang Chan, your very best friend.

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets.

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first.

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again?

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness.

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers.

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration.

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth.

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked.

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused.

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you.

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!”

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips.

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

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thesunandmoons-blog · 3 years ago

Text

a telepath’s safehaven.

my baby geordi doesn’t get enough love!! here u all go ✋

cw/tw : hurt/comfort, post inversion, hinting at the beginning of a panic attack

Word count : 1,069

Fandom : redacted asmr

Pair : geordi/cutie

if u wanna read on ao3!!

It was another long day and long night for them. Cutie couldn’t stop their thoughts from falling back to that day. The day that was supposed to consist of fun and laughter and cheering from the stands! Instead, it had turned to death, screams filling the air.

Their magic had gone insane- totally haywire. Their mind was filled with the thoughts of almost everybody that they were pushed and shoved into in the midst of the panic. The heaves of people moving all at once was incredibly overwhelming-

But that was over now.

1,500 people were dead. It was over now.

It had been over a week of Cutie not using their magic. They didn’t want to think about listening in on anybody’s thoughts, not even Geordi’s. The man they trusted the most in the world- they couldn’t do it.

Cutie, are you there?

No, no they weren’t. They couldn’t possibly be.

Geordi was worried at the very least. His Cutie had always been popping into his head, even during their most vulnerable times, but now? He hadn’t heard from them in that space in... 9 days. He’d been counting, ever since they came home from the E&E Games.

Cutie had been sitting on the couch, doing some online browsing. It wasn’t because they were going to buy anything, but because they needed to look at something that would fill their brain with thoughts of something other than... that.

Their mind was constantly flooding with the memories of it all- the screams. The total panic. It was loud- too loud. Just the thought of it made their heart rate increase, swallowing a lump that had settled in their throat.

Geordi peeked his eyes around the corner, noticing the now unmoving fingers that hovered over the laptop keyboard. His shoulders slugged down after seeing them so still, so empty.

Are they okay? They don’t look okay. I’m worried. Scared. Not of them. No shit, Geordi, just go comfort them, they need you.

He gently padded over to them, hands by his sides. “Cutie?” With a soft gasp, their head turned to look at him, hand placed in the center of their chest. “Geez, Geordi, you scared me there!” They chuckled quietly, a small smile gracing their lips. Was it forced? He couldn’t really tell.

Geordi sat down next to them, taking the hand they offered him when he sat down. “Uhm, Cutie, can we talk about something?” He remembered the first time they asked him the same question- when they came out to him as a telepath. “I-It’s nothing bad, I swear! Well, I don’t think it’s bad, at least.”

Just breathe, Geordi, you’re gonna freak them out. Be too much. Ben always said you were too much. Jesus, Geordi, this isn’t the time to self-loathe. You don’t have that kind of time right now.

With a slow exhale, and a squeeze of their hand, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are... you okay? You haven’t come into my head in over a week. I’m not saying you have to or anything though! I’d never force you to do something you didn’t want to do- I just...,” he sighed, trying to find the right words without sounding forceful. “I’m worried about you. Really worried, Cutie. I know you told me about the... thing that had happened and I want to support you, I just don’t know how. I can’t imagine what you could have gone through, but I still want to support you.”

His hand was practically white knuckled now, iron gripping theirs. Cutie gave his hand a gentle squeeze, almost to tell him that is was okay. That they were or that they would be okay. “Geordi, I...” Their mouth went dry. “I-I...,” their words were sputtering from their lips, and hands were beginning to tremble. “I love that you want to help and support me, but I...,” their next words were whispered out, being, “I can’t do it...” Their bottom lip began to tremble, trying to contain the tears.

Geordi began to rub a gentle hand on their back, rubbing in small, slow circles. “You don’t have to hold all of this in, Cutie. I want you to be able to talk to me. I want to be here for you.”

Crying. They’re crying. Oh no, did I mess up? Should I have not mentioned anything at all? No, Geordi, this has to be talked about. It’s going to be hard, that’s okay. You just want to help.

Their eyes were now flooded with tears, cheeks dampening as they dripped down their cheeks quickly. Their chest was tight, but they had quickly heaved in a big breath as they realized they hadn’t taken one in a minute. “I can’t do it- I can’t listen, Geordi. I’m so.. I’m terrified of what I’ll hear. I can’t hear any of that again- I can’t handle it. I won’t live through hearing everything I heard. It was so... it was so scary..”

Their tears dripped at a consistent rate now, almost like a never ending stream. At some point Geordi had wrapped his arms around their shoulders, holding them close with his chin propped onto their shoulder. He was making soft shushing noises, rocking them back and forth gently. Cutie’s hands were gripping onto what they could grab at that moment, right now that being their shirt. Knuckles were white and the tension in the air was thick- but that wasn’t going to stop Geordi now. He had to be there for them.

It took a good 20 minutes of quiet consolation before the tears slowed down to a stop, quiet sniffles being the only audible sound now. With a soft, shaking breath, Geordi whispered, “Do you want to come in?”

Even after their sob session, exhausted and all, Cutie still froze up, letting themself relax once again back into their boyfriend’s hold. “I...,” they cleared their throat, “yes.”

With a soft knock knock being echoed in Geordi’s mind, he smiled, knowing that this would be the beginning of a long road. It was going to be a lot of hard work, bringing their confidence and their trust back into being a telepath. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t going to be a fast transition back into normalcy, but he would stick through it all with them.

He would stick through anything with them, if it meant they would be okay.

#redacted asmr #redacted geordi #redacted cutie #redacted inversion #redacted fanfic

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enhalovebot · 4 years ago

Text

april fool pranks with enhypen .•ᰔᩚ

➸ enhypen x reader (gender neutral)

➸ fluff!!

➸ ˚ ༘⊹ ° . [🧸] ⋆｡˚ and ˗ˏ ➶ [☁️]. ✧ ˚

⤷ these boys love to mess with you on the regular. but what happens if it’s april fools day?

heeseung

it was early in the morning when you woke up.

the room was ice cold, and you noticed that the space next to you was empty. so you assumed your lovely boyfriend was up and preparing breakfast.

“hee? can you please prepare me a toasty shower?”

“sure thing, bubs!” he shouted from outside the door.

while heeseung is preparing your bath, you proceeded to prepare your work for the day. spring break completely slipped from your mind as you turned on your laptop.

unbeknownst to you tho, heeseung had a different plan. he already knew you had no classes, which he took advantage of to execute his plan.

one that is perfect for april fool's day.

as we all know, our boy is very fond of dad jokes. so he decided to pull a prank on you, instead of just reminding you that you have no classes.

oh, he will prepare you a toasty shower alright.

it was only a few minutes later when heeseung tells you your shower is ready.

“y/n, it’s ready!”

you rushed to the bathroom with your towel in hand to see literal toasts littered all over the bathroom.

this sent you into panic mode because there is no way you will make it to your class on time.

“i want to be mad at you, but i don’t have the time right now. so please just help me clean this up.”

heeseung leaned on the doorway with a stupid smile on his face as he watches you scramble about.

“HEE?! DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?!” you yelled when you noticed him just standing there.

he laughs harder, crouching down on his knees. “y/n, you don’t have any classes today. it’s your spring break remember?”

this made you freeze in place. with a look of disbelief, you dropped your towel in shock.

and you guessed that the look you had on your face was absolutely priceless when heeseung laughs even harder.

let’s just say his plan was a success.

jay

definitely the type to cook for you, especially when you’re stressed or whenever you’re feeling hungry for something.

you were sitting at the back of the bus when he called asking you what you want for dinner.

“what do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“fish sounds good right now.” you expected him to hang up and leave to the kitchen to work his magic, but jay didn’t say anything.

“just fish?” he deadpanned.

you stared at your phone in confusion, eyebrows raised. “yes??”

jay huffs and crosses his arms (but you don’t know that), clearly offended. “i expected you to ask for something fancy. clearly my cooking skills just limited to fish.”

“baby, wha-”

“fish it is then. hurry back home, i’ll have a surprise waiting for you.” then he hang up.

once you got home, you immediately rushed to the kitchen to see how dinner was going.

but jay quickly blocked you from entering the kitchen.

“nope, dinner is not done yet. why don’t you relax first. i have everything under control.”

“uhmm okayy??”

you let him push you into your shared room so that you could relax.

it wasn’t long before jay excitedly told you dinner was ready.

“finally, i’m so hungry.”

“close your eyes, this is the surprise.” jay pulls you into the dining room and guides you to the table.

when he finally uncoveresd your eyes, you were faced with a gummy fish with ketchup on the side.

with a huff, you turn to jay with a smile, picking up the spoon while at it.

jay gulped at this.

“jay?”

“hmm?”

“run.”

with that, jay runs away from you and prepares for the worst.

jake

“babe, hear me out. what about we get another dog?” jake pouts.

you sigh, “i’m sorry jakey, but we don’t have the time.”

ever since you met layla, jake kept asking you for another dog. saying that layla needs a friend.

but you always rejected this because both of you were very busy individuals. so getting another dog would be a hassle.

besides, layla is enough 🥺

jake decides it’s hopeless arguing about this with you.

so he decided to mess with you.

he finds a picture of a coyote on the internet, and inserts it in photoshop to make it more believable.

he sends it to you while you were out with your friends, so you clearly did not see this one coming.

when you opened his message, you eyes nearly popped out of its sockets.

‘y/n look! i saw this dog on the street so i bought it home.’ then he sends a picture of the coyote in your living room.

‘i also bought its friend.’ another picture of a coyote outside your house.

you nearly have a panic attack when you got home.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelled, searching through the house, looking for the coyote.

jake chuckles and holds up his phone.

“happy april fools, love.”

sunghoon

for the past month you’ve been saying you were on a diet.

and guess what.

sunghoon is done with it.

because you weren’t really dieting at this point.

“hoon, can you buy doughnuts for me. i’m craving for some sweets.”

he turns to you, “but aren’t you on a diet?”

this caught you off guard.

you say nothing.

sunghoon also says nothing.

he was just mainly waiting for you to admit that you are not on a diet anymore.

“it’s my cheat day today.” of course, that was the only excuse you could come up with.

sunghoon groans at your cuteness.

“fineeee.” he drags out the word. sunghoon slides out of his seat, grabbing his wallet to buy your doughnuts.

he comes back into the living room with a box of doughnuts.

but what made you confused was that he was holding a fork.

“you’re eating with a fork?”

“no, you are.”

you ignore his comment, hands gripping on the box.

sunghoon smiles at your eagerness.

but your smile turns into a frown when you finally got to see what’s inside the box.

you asked for doughnuts.

he got you a salad instead.

“now, here is your fork.” sunghoon hands you the fork.

“bu-”

“no buts. now, eat your greens.” he pecks your cheek.

sunoo

this boy LOVES doing you hair.

he comes up with so many hairstyles that you can’t even count them.

so on a particular day, he comes up to you asking if he could do your hair.

since he does this almost everyday, you let him do his thing.

“i have this crazy idea for your hair today.” he practically drags you to your seat on the sofa.

sunoo goes quiet when his hands carded through your hair. his touch was feather-like, which makes you a bit sleepy.

and eventually, you fall asleep.

he leans into your ear, “i love you, and i‘m so sorry for what i’m about to do.”

sunoo notices this, making him slightly guilty about what he’s going to do next.

then his evil plan came into play.

when he’s finally done with your hair, sunoo gently shakes you awake.

“hmm? what? you’re done already?”

sunoo almost cracks from laughter when you got up from your position on the sofa.

“how do i look?” you pointed at you hair, unaware of the disaster on top of your head.

“cute, you look cute.” sunoo chuckles at the end of his sentence.

you grew suspicious at this, so you dash to the closest mirror you could find.

your jaw dropped open in shock at the sight of your hair.

this

boy

made

you

into

oompa loompa

“MY HAIR!!”

“YOU’RE AN ADORABLE OOMPA LOOMPA THO!”

jungwon

“so, we‘ve been together for a while now, right?”

jungwon turns his head down to look at you.

“yeah, been the happiest i’ve ever been.” you say without thinking.

jungwon stops from combing his hand in your hair. he drops his hand on your head. “i really care for you, y/n.”

okay, you both said ‘i love you’ without actually saying ‘i love you.’

you both fall asleep tangled under the sheets.

let’s just say, jungwon has a gift for you the next day.

you woke up to birds chirping and the smell of breakfast. you mindlessly felt around the space next to you, searching for jungwon’s warmth.

but his side was empty.

so you got up with no choice, but to look for him.

and there he was. he was standing in front of the counter with a black box in his hands.

jungwon smiles at you, and slides the box to you.

“what’s in the box, won?” you asked him.

“why don’t you find out.” he says, exiting the kitchen.

once he was out of the kitchen, jungwon hid behind the wall, hidden in plain sight.

he watches you open the box in confusion. he observes the way your lips lift into a smile.

you open the box to a ring.

you try picking up the ring from the box, but it was too heavy.

so you pulled harder to find that it wasn’t a ring at all.

it was a mug.

“so, did you like it?” jungwon stands next to you with a teasing grin on his face.

“i expected a ring, but this is so much better. now i can drink my hot chocolate from this.” you raise the mug.

jungwon laughs at your response, but it was only for a second. “i’ll get you a ring some day. but for now, enjoy your hot chocolate.”

ni-ki

you recently purchased a mirror online, but you didn’t know where you could hang it.

and you kinda needed some help with the hanging the mirror part.

so you ask your boyfriend ni-ki to help you set the mirror in place.

and being the obedient boyfriend that he is, ni-ki agreed to help you.

ni-ki already knows where he’ll place the mirror.

he waited for you to leave first before he did anything.

so when the day finally came, and you said that you’ll be running an errand, he knew he had to take this chance.

oh and would you look at that.

it's april fools day.

how perfect.

ni-ki stands up when he hears the door close shut.

he runs to the mirror and walks with it around the house.

he stops at a blank wall, it was perfect.

so, he hangs it up.

but not exactly what you’re expecting.

the boy hangs it to a height where you won’t be able to use the mirror.

he made sure the mirror was higher than the tip of your head.

ni-ki nearly topples in laughter as he imagines the look on your face when you come back home.

and he was right.

your reaction was the best.

“NI-KI, I CAN’T SEE A THING.”

“what, i’m sorry. talk to me when you get taller, that’s said with love.”

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iwishicanbeagoodpianist · 3 years ago

Text

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

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this-is-spn20 · 3 years ago

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FLUFF ALPHABET! Sam Winchester!

A/N: Here’s Sammy boy! My small adorable baby! Let me know what you guys think about this!

-Marissa

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A ctivities- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam is a pretty laid-back man. When he sees a chance at relaxing with you, he snatches as quickly as possible. Whether it’s just walking or driving around towns, going to the local library (cause God knows the only book they have at the bunker are the Wizard of Oz books, and the men of letters’ books.), to looking up fun recipes to try with you. The man will always keep you occupied!

B eauty- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam likes that despite you being very soft-spoken, you’re nowhere near dumb. You’re also very confident. Of course, you’ll still ask Sam what he thinks if you piece together a somewhat bold outfit. But you might as well call him Bruno Mars cause- well you know.

I feel like if you are an artist of some sort, he might decide to pick up your art of choice as a hobby for when he has no research or hunts. Maybe if you draw, he’ll buy both of you sketchbooks and pencils. Or if you use a tablet he might buy you a better one. He’ll try doing simple drawings to start off with a tree or two. An eye here and there. He struggling and he’s probably gonna get a bit upset with himself if his skills don’t pick up like yours. But he’s trying really hard! If you like making music, he might ask you to play guitar. He might even ask you to teach him how to sing! But be patient, he can barely carry a tune but he’s so happy to learn! Might take him almost a year to get the hang of it, but once he does, he is an absolute Beast with some strings!

C omfort- How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sam has anxiety himself so he knows the signs when one is coming on. He’s been around stressful things/people/events all his life. His father was abusive throughout his and Dean’s childhood. When he ran away to go to college, he had to learn to interact with new environments and people. In conclusion, the man KNOWS what anxiety is. And how to handle it. He’ll have you sit down and close your eyes. He won’t touch you just in case it makes you more nervous. He’ll breathe slowly with you, serving as a guide to get your bearings. Once you’ve slowed your breathing he knows you can’t hold anything so he gets you a glass of water with a straw and holds the glass for you. He knows you probably won’t want to eat anything so he just picks you up when you say he can, and brings you to bed, and reads you to sleep while holding you close.

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sam knows for sure he wants to marry you. He also wants kids with you but the risk of being raised in the life he kept him up at night. Now don’t get him wrong, he knows that whatever happens, family will take care of it. They always do. But he’s not sure if that’s a risk worth taking. He just wants to have the apple pie life. He’d kill every monster with his bare hands just to have that with you.

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sam is quite dominant in the relationship. He always takes care of everything for you. He doesn't buy into the stereotype that women should be doing everything for their partners. He tries to help you out with everything and he doesn't take no for an answer. You've known for a while that Sam's love language is Acts of Service. All he's done all his life is help people, so it just seeps into the relationship. Sure he believes that a relationship should be a healthy balance of 50\50, but at the same time, he can't help take over and take care of you. This man is just precious.

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Depending on what the fight was about Sam would be pretty open to forgiving you pretty quickly. However sweet Sam can be, if he believes that he has even a pinky toe to stand on in the fight, he’ll stick to it. It’s only when the shouting has gotten too much for you that you walk away that he may see where you’re coming from. Give him a or two. That way you both had time to cool down. You’ll spend the rest of the day talking it through, seeing each other’s perspectives. Even if you guys can’t agree with each other, you’ll know how to better handle the situation next time.

G ratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even though he mostly does mundane things for you, you try to help out as much as he’ll let you. For example, if you noticed that he has a lot of research to do, while he’s sleeping or is on a supply run, you’ll continue his research so that he’ll have more time to relax and let loose a bit more. You think he doesn’t notice but he does, and he appreciates it. It makes him feel like he hasn’t been ‘slacking off’, or that he hasn’t wasted too much time doing other things. Sometimes you’ll even finish the research and he’ll have nothing much to do for a while. Except relaxing with you of course!

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sam doesn’t have to hide much from you. You’re a damn good hunter. He would even go as far as to say you were better than him and Dean. He knows damn well you can take care of yourself and that you don’t like being babied often. He knows your secrets as well as you know his. It takes a big weight off his shoulders, knowing he doesn’t have to hide who he is with you.

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You were always an adventurous and carefree person. You always had a hard time balancing fun and work. Sometimes it got you into trouble. Sam noticed this when you two first met and as your relationship got more serious and tried to help you with the balence. By all means you aren’t magically better, but you’re learning. Sam on the other hand, had the same issue. The work and fun balance is a tricky one to master. You help Sam have more fun, like you he’s getting better at having more fun. But again it’s not going to happen overnight. Oh and you eat a salad of two once a month now!

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

On the rare occasion the Sam gets extremely jealous, it's usually when someone tries to touch. Regardless of whether you let it happen (for fun) or not, he can’t help himself. He wants you all to himself. No Sharing!!

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sam is a very good kisser. He always kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years. Most of the time his kisses are very rough but intimate. The first kiss was after four dates. Yes that’s a long time but you wanted to make sure you did this right with Sam. Plus he reassured you that he’d wait as long as you wanted to. You were sitting next to Sam in the Library doing some light research since most of it had gotten done earlier that week. The tension had been building up all week, you were finally ready to kiss Sam. Despite this not being your first kiss, you hadn’t kissed many people so understandably, you were nervous. You reached your arm over his and gently closed his laptop and angled your body toward his. You leaned over to him slowly, creeping your hand to his shoulder and finally your lips connected. Sam’s hand softly grabbed your hand on his shoulder and you both stayed like that until you both needed air. That was one of, if not, the most intimate moment you’ve had with Sam so far.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

Sam would be a bundle of nerves when he tries to confess. He’s tried to do it at least three times but each time he either got too nervous or something would interrupt him. Eventually settled for being simple, yet intimate. He had invited you to come to the library with him to sit and read for a while. It was about an hour and a half of you both being immersed in your own books that he told you he was going to the coffee shop in the bookstore to get a coffee. He got you your favorite drink. He had the barista give him a sharpie before they made your drink, then he wrote his message to you and bought you the drink when the order was done. You could see Sam was shaking and fidgeting but you couldn’t tell why.You figured you’d let him tell you when he’s ready. If only you know. You were only a few sips into your drink when you noticed some writing on the cup. Curious, you read the message which read;

(Y/n), I have loved you from the best of times to the worst. Would you do the honor of going on a date with me?

-Sam

You sat up, a bit stunned. You looked at Sam to see him smiling shyly at you. You couldn’t do much but giggle and nod at the giant softie.

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage is something Sam and you have talked a lot about it. You two know you definitely want to get married but the question was when. You want to do it sooner rather than later. While Sam agrees, he also feels like that it should be a sign of both of you leaving life for good. Sam is a very nostalgic person, which means he’ll most likely recreate him asking you out and your first date. At the end of the night he’d get down on one knee and before he gets to say one word you burst into tears. When he finishes his speech, you of course say yes and the night continues...elsewhere.

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

Sugar is used more often than not. Baby and babygirl are pretty prevalent. Honey Bunch is used less but when he does call you that usually puppy dog eyes are shortly behind.

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Sam is in love it’s less obvious to everyone, but if they know Sam, they’ll notice the little things. Things like Sam now has permanent smile lines and his shoulders don’t hold so much tension anymore. If you didn’t come on a hunt with him and Dean he always has Dean stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. Of course he gets shit from Dean but he still does it everytime cause he is a good big brother.

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While Sam will let anyone know that you’re together (if need be), he’s pretty subtle about it. There is the subtle hand on your thigh or around your waist. Maybe a little quick forehead kiss but other than that unless they knew you, someone wouldn’t be able to guess you two are together.

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sam has this really deep, rich, raspy type of voice. That makes him the BEST narrator ever! He often reads you to sleep when you two spend a lazy night in or if you have a nightmare. He’s there with a book you’ve been reading and he reads you a chapter or two before you’re out like a light.

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Sam is the KING of romance. When he plans something for you, he goes all out! When it comes to making you happy, he’ll do whatever it takes. There are almost no limits to his love. He lives by the term “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”. Sam is pretty nostalgic so he’ll be cliche, but he’ll be creative and add his own twist to it! So you could say he’s pretty creative.

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sam loves learning about your goals and helping you achieve them. If you have 5 different goals, he's all there for you, helping you learn ways to achieve them quicker. If you want to. If you feel like those goals are impossible to reach, he’s there to help you see nothing’s impossible.

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

While Sam likes to have a solid routine, he tries to keep things *spicy* when it comes to your relationship. Whether it's something mundane or outrageous, you and Sam try your best to keep things fun for the both of you.

U nderstanding- How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You and Sam know each other so well it's gotten to the point where if you or him need something, you know what’s needed and how much before the other even opened their mouth. When this happens, Dean just kinda stares at the both of you with a “what the actual fuck?’ look.

Sam: *sees you walking into the kitchen* Hey babe we-

Y/N: We need to get some milk today. You wanna leave at 11?

Sam: *goes back to drinking his coffee* Yep.

Dean: *freaking the fuck out*

V alue- How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sam knew from the first date that his life would be in your hands. He trusts you with everything he has. What’s your relationship worth to him? More than any diamonds, jewels, or power. Nothing can ever be worth more than you.

W ild Card- A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sam took you to an event at a bar one night for a date. The theme that night was ‘50’s and 60’s dance night!’ He bought you a dress that would be worn in that era and he wore his brand new tux he bought, just for tonight. Just for you. Your feet were screaming in your heels but you and Sam were having too much fun to leave the dance floor. When you guys got home that night Sam gave you the BEST foot rub ever.

X OXO- Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, Sam will smother you with kisses and cuddles. The man can almost never let you go. The poor touch starved baby.

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sam likes to log in to your Spotify, he knows most likely wherever you are, you’re listening to your music. He likes to listen to your playlists with you. It makes him feel closer to you.

(He’ll never admit it but you have better taste in music than him.)

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’ll be a close call but if he had to choose to save Dean or you, he’d choose you. It’d break him for a while, but he knows his brother wants him to have the apple pie life with you. And in the end, he’d always do it. No matter how hard it’d be for him and you every time, he wouldn’t change a thing.

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A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are always open!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural

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axoxtxhxh · 3 years ago

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Pairing: Sub!Goshiki x DomFem! Chubby!Reader Part 2 Summary: You met your good friend Goshiki at work one day, having similar interests in books. When you start developing feelings for him, things get difficult. Especially when he asks a special favor. Content: Body image issues, heated makeout session, strong sexuality, heavy grinding over clothes Word Count: ~ 4,100

A/N: Yay for part two! This is Part 2 of my three part series with Goshiki! I will post Part 3 on Friday. If you missed Part 1, check out the Please Me Series Masterlist where you can find all of our stories for the Please Me series!

One week. It had been one full week since you’d heard from Goshiki. He left your apartment so quickly and you didn’t really have much time to think about why before your self-doubt and body image issues took over. It was stupid of you to be so upset over it because honestly, you really had only met Goshiki a couple months ago. But it did hurt and you wereupset because these last couple months had been the best months you’d ever had and it was as if it was all taken away in that moment he walked out the door.

You were tracing circles on the desk at work when you saw someone walk into the bookstore and your eyes shot to the door. It wasn’t Goshiki and you slumped back down, drawing your circles.

“God, you’re depressing.” Dylan’s voice came from behind you. “Why don’t you just text him?”

“So I can be that weird clingy person.” You shivered, standing up straight and facing him. “No thank you.”

“You’re a writer and you don’t think that maybe he hasn’t texted because he’s thinking the same thing? It’s writing 101.”

“I am a writer, but I already told you, I am not the kind of person that has a role in these stories. I’m like the side character that tells the main character they’re doing a great job.” You drummed your fingers on the desk, quickly looking at the door again as another person walked in and Dylan laughed.

“Why don’t you go take a break.” He stopped your fingers.

“I just had mine.”

“Well take another. And go for a walk. You’re going to break your neck if you keep looking at the entrance like that.” He laughed.

“I’m fine, Dylan.”

“You’re not and neither am I. I need coffee. Grab me some?”

“So now I’m your gofer?” You laughed, taking his card.

“And buy yourself something. I don’t need you ogling my cup when you get back.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You walked out the front and set out to your coffee shop. The fresh air did feel really nice, not to mention it was one of the better days that week, weather-wise. You almost wished the café were a little bit farther so you could have more time to enjoy the day. Almost wished. The amount of times the close proximity of this café had saved you from a rough work day was monstrous.

When you reached the coffee shop, it was midday and the way the light hit the glass windows and door, you couldn’t see the inside so it came as quite a shock when the door swung open and nearly hit you in the face. What came as more of a surprise was who was opening the door. You had a mini moment of panic as you watched Goshiki turn around, having used his butt to push the door open.

You both stood there for a second staring at each other, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“Gos—” You started, stopping when he said your name at the same time. You both laughed lightly which gave you a bit of hope. “You can go first.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down. “The way I left wasn’t really fair to you.”

“No, it’s okay. I feel like I sort of pushed you into the kiss.”

“No! You didn’t! It wasn’t the kiss.”

“It was because I sat on your lap.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, nodding and you sighed quietly, trying not to feel the ache in your heart.

You knew it. You knew it was because of you. He ran out because you nearly smothered him.

“I’ve just never had anyone… that close… like… on me. And the way we were touching… I was having… like—Ugh, I’m not making sense.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to explain.” You shrugged, hoping you seemed nonchalant and not like you were about to cry. “I get it.”

“You do?” His eyes opened wide and looked at you.

“Yeah, I know I’m not small.” You couldn’t look him in the eye so you focused on the two coffee cups in his hands. “It probably felt like you were being crushed—”

“What?” He interjected quickly. “No, that’s not it at all. Is that what you were thinking this whole time?”

“Well, yeah.” You finally looked up at him and he sighed.

“That—I keep telling you, you look amazing. It’s not you. The problem is that I’m a virgin. I’ve never done anything like that. I’ve barely even kissed anyone.”

“You—you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.”

“And you ran out…”

“Because I was nervous. I didn’t know how to tell you and I definitely didn’t know how to continue. I…” You could tell he was trying to figure out how to explain to you what he was feeling, but he couldn’t get it into words and you smiled. He didn’t think you were heavy. He didn’t think you were too big and he didn’t run out because he was disgusted by you.

“Goshiki?” You were still smiling, unable to hide your happiness at this new information. “Do you want to just forget it happened for now?”

You could visibly see the relief in his face and you watched his shoulders relax as he smiled.

“Yes. Honestly, that would be perfect. Can I walk you back to work?”

“Yes.” You nodded, a nearly permanent smile on your face. “Who’s the coffee for?”

He looked down at the cup in each hand. “You. I was going to bring it to you and apologize.”

You had a moment where you both looked at each other and smiled, both happy things were going to be okay before you quickly went in the coffee shop and bought Dylan’s coffee, taking your time on the walk back to the bookstore with Goshiki.

There was nothing hidden in the look on Dylan’s face as you stepped into the bookstore, waving to Goshiki as he headed back to practice.

“What the hell? I told you to get me a coffee and you come back with the guy you’ve been snapping your neck for every time someone walks in?”

“It was sending me to get you coffee that had me running into him.” You handed Dylan his cup. “It’s fine though. We were able to talk a little and I think things are okay.”

“If you had a talk that fast, things are not okay.”

“It was more like we talked about having a talk. He’s going to come by at the end of my shift.”

“So was I right?” He took a sip from his cup and you made a face.

“Right about what?” You drank from your cup, narrowing your eyes.

“He wasn’t texting you for the same reason you weren’t texting him?”

“What does that even matter.” You rolled your eyes.

“It does something to me knowing I’m right.” He smiled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as if he could smell his correct guess. “Strokes my ego a bit.”

“I don’t think I’m willing to give you that satisfaction.”

“I was right.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t need to.” He smiled and you turned around to look at the door, pretending to ignore him when he appeared at your ear, whispering. “I was right.”

The rest of your shift flew by yet somehow took forever to end. You tried to keep yourself busy, but there really was only so much you could do with limited customers and an anxious heart.

The one good thing that did come from your shift was the new shipments of books, one of them was the book both you and Goshiki had been waiting for. He still felt weird taking books home so you started buying them with your discount and you hid a stack for him behind the counter. All of your coworkers knew this so when he walked in, they handed him the stack and he found a place to sit and read. He was going to be so happy the new book came in and you were worried about how happy it made you at the thought of him being excited over it.

As the time got closer to when he was supposed to show up, you started to feel nervous. You were happy things were better and you got to talk about what happened, but now it was becoming really hard to ignore the fact that you definitely did have feelings for Goshiki. He never made it clear whether he did or didn’t, he only mentioned that he had never had sex and doesn’t have a lot of experience, but that wasn’t enough for you to think that he could like you.

You could actually kick yourself for suggesting to forget about the kiss. He seemed really excited to forget it though so maybe he didn’t like you. But then again, he could have been happy to forget about the awkwardness in which case he may have been okay with the kiss and maybe did have feelings for you. Damn it, anxiety!

You dropped your head into your hands and looked down at the counter as your phone buzzed. It was five minutes until your shift was over and Goshiki just messaged.

No! You cannot meet me later! You thought. I am over here freaking out because I don’t know how you feel about me and I’m about to bury my head into the sand if I don’t die of a heart attack first.

Great, now he wasn’t even going to come to the bookstore. Your anxiety would have to sit a little longer.

You headed home and did your best not to think about it which was nearly impossible. With your laptop on your lap, you got to writing. If Goshiki was going to be a while, you might as well make use of the time. You mentally slapped yourself when you thought of the way his eyes glued to the screen when he read your stories and went back to focusing.

It took you a bit, but once you got into the zone, you were able to block out the rest of the world and the rest of your thoughts and just write. By the time you heard a knock at the door, you looked at the clock. It had been an hour. You moved your laptop to the coffee table and stood up, making your way to the door. Each step you took you got more and more nervous, no longer able to brush the anxiety aside because the cause of the anxiety was right behind the door. You took a deep breath and opened it.

Damn it. It was a package. The box was small and you could barely read the label, but as soon as you picked it up, you were almost jumping out of excitement. You went to the kitchen, grabbing scissors and opening the box up. Your business cards.

It had taken you a while to drum up the courage to order them. Both Dylan and Goshiki badgering you until you placed the order. The material you chose made the wait time so much longer, but it was way more than worth it holding it in your hands. The soft, almost velvety feel of the matte black card gave you a smile you couldn’t hold back. You closed your eyes, rubbing the card in between your fingers and smiled.

“Your cards came in?” A voice came from behind you and you jumped, your hand flying to your chest as you turned around.

“Holy shit, Goshiki. You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He laughed. “The door was open so I thought you knew I was coming.

“I left it open?” You peeked behind him to the door.

“Yeah. I closed it.” He was looking at the counter where you left the box of cards. “Can I see them?”

“Here.” You handed him the card and he looked at it, smiling. “You can keep that one.”

“Thanks.”

Everything was so awkward. You couldn’t understand how it was so comfortable in front of the café, but now it was so awkward.

“Can we talk?”

That was why it was awkward. There was something he wanted to say and it had your chest tightening.

“Sure.”

You moved to sit on the couch and he sat next to you, rubbing his palms on his thighs. He looked up to you, opening his mouth like he was going to speak, but then closing it quickly and looking back down at his hands.

“You okay?”

“I… I’m okay. I was hoping that we could… I mean, I know you’re not—we’re not rea…” He blew air out through his cheeks.

“Goshiki, whatever it is, you can tell me.” You put your hand on his shoulder and felt him tense up. There was a short pause, but then he quickly turned to you and pushed himself forward so your lips were touching. His lips already moving roughly against yours.

His hand was on your cheek and trying to bring you closer to him. This was different than before, he was way more active, his tongue pushing through your lips, not even waiting for you to open your mouth. His weight pushed you back so you were almost laying down. It felt so good feeling his entire body against yours, so warm and strong, but you couldn’t shake that he was pushing too fast. You only just learned he was a virgin and now he was rushing into this.

“Go—Goshi—Goshiki! Wait.” You struggled to get a word out, each time your mouth was open, he used to chance to push his tongue in, but he pulled back to look at you. His lips were starting to look swollen, almost bee stung and it was adorable, but you shook that out of your mind. “What are—we just talked. I thought because of your inexperience…”

“I want to do it with you.” He spoke so casually, as if he’d seriously thought about it. “If that’s okay.”

If that’s okay? Yes! You most definitely wanted to rip his clothes off and run your tongue over every inch of him. The look in his eyes had you wetter than you could remember being, but this was kind of a big deal for him. You weren’t sure if rushing into this with you was such a good idea.

“I mean… are you sure?” You asked, rubbing his cheek lightly and he nodded.

“Take me.” He whispered as he leaned back in. You didn’t even have time to smile at his use of one of your favorite romance novel’s title before his lips were back on yours.

This time was way more passionate. You could feel his hands all over you, less hesitant than before as they moved up your body. His inexperience was so plainly obvious to you now that you knew it, it made you wonder how you didn’t notice before. The way his lips moved against your lips, still unsure of how they were supposed to fit with yours. The way his tongue was moving around your mouth heavily, almost beating the inside of your cheeks. The way his dick was honestly already so incredibly hard against your thigh. He was barely thrusting as he moaned into your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair.

His other hand continued its movements up and down your sides, lingering longer each time as he got closer to your breasts.

You were finding it harder to guide him as he lay on top of you and you put your hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back, but at the slightest resistance from you, he quickly stopped. His eyes, so heavily lidded, looked down at you.

“A—Is it okay?” His cheeks were pink and his lips were red, shiny with spit, as he licked them.

“It’s okay.” You smiled. “Are you okay?”

“Your lips are so soft.” He leaned in again to kiss you. “They taste like strawberries.”

His mouth was all over yours again, but this time softer, gentler, and instead of his tongue being shoved into your mouth, it delicately brushed over your lips. All of it had your breath catching in your throat and you were wondering how he could have switched so quickly from the first kiss.

You felt that familiar tingle run through your body, goosebumps raising on your skin, and your hands went to Goshiki’s back to pull him closer to you. You wanted him. Your fear of overthinking anything was far from your mind as you felt his warm hand slide under your shirt and rest on your stomach.

God, he was so hard, his cock pressed up against you, his grinding became rougher, but you didn’t mind it at all. He was wearing his tracksuit and the pants were definitely thin enough for you to feel everything. Your lips were numb from all the kissing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away until he did, leaning back a little for air.

“Take off your jacket.” You commanded. He sat up fully, nodding and you sat up with him, pulling your own shirt off.

It was unfortunate that you really weren’t expecting anything like this to happen so your current bra situation was a sports bra, but at least it was your cute black one that showed off your cleavage. Based on the motionless stare Goshiki had on your breasts, he didn’t seem to mind at all what bra you were wearing.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down, smiling with him into the kiss until his lips moved to your neck and you shivered at his breath on your skin. You could feel his inexperience again, but it’s almost as if it didn’t matter this time because he was grinding even harder against you and you wrapped your legs around him, almost forcing him into position to rub roughly against your clit.

Goshiki had been letting out tiny whimpers here and there as well as the occasional moan, but you had been relatively quiet until his erection hit that swollen and sensitive bud of nerves so perfectly that you moaned out, almost awkwardly with how loud it was and your hand went to his hair. If anything, Goshiki took this as a sign to keep going and he ground harder against you, hoping to make you feel it again.

“It feels so good.” He whispered against your skin and you couldn’t have agreed more, literally pulling him even closer against you and he kept grinding, even faster, moaning even louder.

You loved when your partner was loud. From what you knew about Goshiki, he loved praise in everyday life. You could only imagine what it would do to him in the bedroom.

“I love the way you touch me.” You groaned quietly. He paused for a second before his hands started roaming over you again, this time further, touching parts of you he was too hesitant to touch before. “Just like that. Don’t stop, you’re so good at that.”

It’s like you could feel his heart racing, his uncertainty fading and his cock twitching against you as you complimented him. The more you praised him, the harder he worked, his moans getting louder and louder and it reached a point where if he wasn’t faking it, you were sure he would orgasm.

His face was still in your chest, his hips wildly rubbing against you. His moaning turned to groans which then became grunting before one long grunt escaped him and his hips flew forward against yours, his body shaking then stilling and he started panting.

You’re in no way an expert, but you were experienced enough to know that Goshiki just came in his pants. He wasn’t moving, his face was resting against your chest as he took deep breaths.

“Oh fuck.” You could hear him whisper into your chest. “Oh shit.”

“Goshiki.” Your hand was still on his back and you honestly didn’t know what to do or say to him because you really couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “It—it’s okay.”

That was probably the worst thing to say. You were not quick to thinking ever and this definitely showcased that. You’ve had men come too soon before, but you both kept going, waiting for him to be ready again before you moved forward.

It was different for Goshiki though and it was your job to guide him. A job you were failing at.

After a minute or so, he sat up, sitting back on the couch and he stared at the coffee table, unable to bring his eyes to you.

“Gosh—"

“I should go home and change.” He looked at you and you could see how mortified he felt before he quickly looked away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go change.”

“Um, okay.” You scooted off the couch to stand up with him. “Do you want me to come with?”

“No, it’s fine.” He already put his jacket back on and was moving to the door. “I’ll message you later.”

He didn’t message. Not that day and not the day after or the day after that. You were beginning to feel like it was your fault again. It wasn’t like before, but you felt just as bad as you did before.

The last time you felt like this, you were at work worried that you had destroyed your friendship with Goshiki and you started to feel better after going for a walk so that should work this time too. At least that’s what you told yourself when you started putting on your shoes. You opened your door to leave, to go somewhere, anywhere to get yourself out of your apartment and out of your head for a little.

When you opened the door, you jumped back, surprised someone was standing there. Goshiki had his hand up, ready to knock, a startled look on his face. You both stared at each other, stunned and completely not expecting to see the other. Goshiki’s hand stayed in the air, in a fist as if he was going to eventually need to knock. Like you would just close the door so the entire exchange could start fresh.

“Goshiki.” You were the first one to speak and when you did, it’s as if he woke up and slowly put his hand down.

“I’m sorry I didn’t message. I said I would.”

It was still really uncomfortable. You weren’t sure what to say and it wasn’t as if you were mad, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he thought you were mad. The pause before you spoke was too long and now you felt like you couldn’t say anything at all because it would seem weird or fake because you hesitated. Damn it, anxiety!

“Sorry. You must have been going somewhere.” He stepped to the side, looking down and you could tell he was contemplating just leaving.

“Do you want to talk?” You also stepped aside and he looked up, pausing before nodding and stepping inside your apartment.

It seemed like a terrible idea to sit on that couch so you moved to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Goshiki across from you.

“It was stupid and unfair of me to leave again.” He started. “I—”

“No, it was my fault.” You stepped closer to him, leaning on the kitchen island in between the both of you. “I should have been better. I’m the one with experience.”

“But leaving isn’t helpful. I promise, I won’t leave anymore. I was just so embarrassed.” He rubbed his forehead, making a face, his cheeks already a bright pink at the memory.

“There’s nothing wrong with coming in your pants.” You assured him. “I came in my pants too.”

“You did?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“No, sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” You admitted and he looked back down, discouraged again and you walked around the counter, putting your hand on his shoulder. “I mean, I could have, if—”

“If I didn’t come in mine first?” He laughed and you almost let a sigh of relief out at seeing his smile. “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I might like you.” He looked down, not able to look at you while he spoke. Though if he did, he would have seen the huge smile on your face. “So as much as I want to lose my virginity, maybe we could slow down.”

The only visual description you had for describing how you felt in that moment was fireworks. Fireworks were going off in your brain, in front of your eyes, all around Goshiki and you couldn’t believe what he had said. He liked you.

“Goshiki?” It was still nearly impossible to contain your excitement at his confession, but you were doing your best, biting your lip so you wouldn’t scream out with delight. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

He quickly looked up at you and smiled. That smile you can never say no to.

.....

Taglist: @chaotic-nick @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes @serostapesweat @lovelyzabrak-meadow

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joestarwhore · 4 years ago

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Risotto Nero - A Price to Pay

{Being the only girl in the Bucci Gang has its perks. Your familia loved you, & were fiercely protective- but what’re they supposed to do when another Capo decides to have you to himself? He’s gotta have you.}

{one way or another.}

_____________________________________

“Bucciarati were almost to Napoli, should I head straight for the city or the safe house?”

Fugo’s sharp voice woke you from your nap. You & the team have been traveling for days tracking three stand users who’ve been smuggling contraband out of Passioné’s grasp. So far, the trail has led to Napoli- and to make it worse, no one knows what they look like. But luckily, you had the name of the man in charge of the operation.

“Go to the safe house. They’re not going to move anything in broad daylight, & we haven’t been able to stop for an actual break.” Bruno circled the location on Fugo’s map. “We can spare a few hours.”

You looked to your right to see Mista asleep against the window, drool slowly coming out of his mouth. You would’ve laughed if you had any right to, with the glimpse of yourself you caught in the rear view you were surprised no one woke you up with a camera flash.

You stretched your neck side to side, your movements slowly bringing your body back to life. You could hear Giorno, Abbachio, and Narancia gently start stirring to life as Bruno continued to talk about the location, not being able to keep in their loud ass yawns. Well, honestly, that was only Narancia’s problem.

Bruno swiveled the seat to face the back, his perfect black bob not moving an inch while he does it. “Now that we’re in Napoli, it’s time to be debriefed about our current situation. Would one of you please wake Mista?”

Abbachio wasted no time to slap Mista in the back of the head, causing Mista to lurch forward with a yelp. His hand immediately went to the back of his head as he whipped around towards Abbachio. “What the hell, you dumbass!! What was that for??”

“For debriefing you idiot, pay attention.”

You giggled, resulting in a hearty “Shut up!” from Mista. After Bruno’s scolding, he started to explain the facts.

“The intelligence we received stated that the man controlling the contraband operation is a Capo. His name is Risotto Nero, the leader of La Squandra. He’s been known to defy the Familia before, so it’d make sense that he would be the one running this show.”

Bruno’s face slowly grimmed as he continued, pausing after he spoke. “While he is a traitor to the Familia, he is also one of the most powerful Capo’s in the organization. Not just because of his title, but because of his stand.”

The tension grew substantially.

“What’s his stand, Boss? Does anyone have an idea?” Narancias question rung in the air like a bell.

“No. Because no ones lived to tell about it.”

The chill that ran down your spine was unnerving. No one knows what his stand is?? No one has even the slightest idea?? How can that be?

“Boss, how’re we supposed to find this cazzo when all we have to go on is a name?” you ask, “How’re we supposed to defend ourselves against a stand that no one has ever beat?”

“By keeping your stand close. Giorno’s Golden Wind can sense life, and Narancia can track anything that breathes. Abbachio’s Moody Jazz could very well be our ace in the hole, if we can simply find where he’s been- but that’s hard to do when you’re following a ghost.”

God, that wasn’t reassuring.

Soon, Fugo’s road rage landed you at the safe house, a 3 story cabin in the middle of the woods. Mista’s excitement blossomed as soon as he saw the giant flatscreen through the window, everyone else’s did when they finally got to leave the stuffy ass van.

Abbachio helped you out of the car, letting you hang on to his arm until you’ve cracked all the bones you needed to feel relief. “Thank you Abba, I’ve been needing to do that for a while now!”

Abbachio threw you a smirk. “Yeah yeah don’t get gross on me.” He could throw up any facade he wants- you see right through his badass tough guy wall. You gave him a grin back, & grabbed your duffel bag out from under your seat. You looked back to see that the other boys had already made it inside, Bruno & Giorno already setting up the radio & laptops to start working.

Bruno def wasn’t playing around when he was looking for a place to buy. This was the nicest cabin you had ever seen, pure dark wood walls with marble flooring, a grand staircase with a BEAUTIFUL bay window?? Capo DEFINITELY had perks.

***************

[3:33 AM]

You bolted awake as thunder and lightning surrounded your bedroom. Your mind frantic as the open curtains revealed howling winds and light flashing through the skies.

You took some deep breaths and calmed yourself down. It’s only a storm, nothing to- why was your door open?

Adrenaline started to churn in your stomach as you swung your legs over your bed. You stepped carefully towards the hallway, peeking down to see that everyone else’s doors were open too. You tip toed down, peering into Bruno & Abbachio’s rooms, seeing them both empty; and upon further inspection, so were Giorno’s and Mista’s. Narancia and Fugo’s following suit.

Where the fuck is everyone, and why are you not with them?

You back tracked down the hall, your legs shaking as you slowly walked down the stairs.

Were you being attacked?

The lightning lit your path down the stairs as you kept your eyes peeled for anything out of place. As you came down to the first platform, the stench of blood overwhelmed your senses, making your eyes grown wide and your hand go over your mouth and nose. This cannot be real, why is blood in the air??

“You know when I first saw you, I thought you were an angel among the saints & sinners of Napoli.”

Your hand gripped the banister as you stood in defense, looking everywhere for the source of the deep voice. Who was that?? Where the fuck is your team??

“& Then I saw Ghiaccio getting in a fight with another Mafioso. I thought it was just one of Bucciaratis boys, but oh was i so close yet so wrong.”

You slowly made your way down stairs, “I guess your a big fan of mine then, quite a shame I can’t see where you are for such occasion.”

A deep chuckle resonated through the estate. “Our life together will be wonderful, I am very sure.”

“The fuck are you-“

Your stomach dropped.

The blood. The gashes. The gore.

All of the boys were hanging by their hands, bloody chains protruding from their wrists and connecting them to the ceiling. Blood oozed from Fugos mouth, while Narancias unconscious form clearly had a broken nose and extreme loss of blood. They all were simply.. hanging by a thread.

“Jesus fucking Christ.. you’re fuc-fucking kidding..”

Invisible hands hold onto your sides as your body freezes in shock, the pressure and heat of them telling you they were quite large. Your heart beater out of your chest as you felt a muscular set of abs press against your back, those hands weaving over your chest to hold down your arms.

“Do you see, Amore? Do you see how powerful I am compared to them?” Your eyes tore away from the bloodied boys, closing them as tightly as you could. “When I saw how powerful you were and how you carried yourself, I knew we were soul mates. I had to have you. I had to have your body, your mind,” His hand rubbed gently against your clothes crotch, shooting heated adrenaline to your core, “& your pretty little cunt just full of my kids.”

Your cheeks turned violently red as you staggered to breathe. “Who..are you..”

Lips pressed against your temple as a deep chuckle vibrated your body. “Darling, I’m the whole reason you’re out here.”

Your heart froze.

“Risotto?? It’s you?!”

Suddenly two black clothed muscular arms appeared around you, one of them tilting your chin back to reveal two black and red eyes staring straight at you. “Surprised, Cara?”

You started to panic, the danger of your situation settling in. Bruno, Giorno, all of the boys, were out of action. There was no help for you, and you couldn’t summon your stand like this. Was this simply the end? Was he just saving you for last for his sick fantasy??

“Please.. what do you even want from me??”

Risotto put your hands behind your back and tied them together. “What I’ve wanted since I saw you; a life. With just you & me.” He placed you on a chair, kneeling before you with his hands tracing you and your skin. Your breath hitched as he ran over certain spots, his eyes growing darker and darker the more you react. You had to do something, you couldn’t let your family be killed over someone’s obsession over you.

“I’m going with you whether I like it or not, right?”

Risotto chuckled a humorless laugh. “A smart one! Oh i like that, I like that. Maybe our kids will get that trait.”

Dread sunk in your stomach. There’s no escape, is there?

“If I go with you, willingly with no struggle- will you allow me to use my stand on them so they atleast don’t die of their injuries?”

Risotto stared at you, looking for any sign of betrayal, but he wasn’t gonna find anything. You knew there wasn’t a way out, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance in hell against him. Atleast if you can save the boys, there wouldn’t be any death.

“Fine. But one slip up, Amore, and I’ll make your condition worse than theirs.”

Risotto unbinded your arms, helping you stand up and get your balance again. You walked towards the boys until you were a few meters away from them. You could sense their shallow breathing from your powers, you knew if you were gonna do this you had to act fast.

“Iron Maiden.”

A steam punk victorian girl emerged behind you, wielding a glowing white scythe, its jet black hair flowing behind her.

“Scythes Blessing.”

Iron Maiden hovered to the front of you, your scythe glowing bright white as it swung a mass of energy towards them all. Their wounds mended together, the blood returning to their bodies. After the act was done, the boys passed out on the floor, surely to wake up in a few hours.

“Now, we start our life, my sweet angel.”

Tears silently went down your cheeks as you turned to the beautiful, evil man. His eyes showed a softness towards you as he extended his giant hand. Your dainty one took his, holding it as he led you to the door.

“Where are you taking me?”

Risotto swung open the huge doors to reveal the storm still actively raging, his matte black sports car in the circle drive. “Home, cara. Our home.”

You hurried to get in his front seat, Risotto closing your door and going to the drivers door. He got in, revving the car to life and pulled the car out of the drive way. Risotto placed his hand on your thigh as he took you away from the estate. Your heart hurt for your boys, but this was for the best, right? Atleast this way they’re safe. They’re safe.

“Say your goodbyes Cara. Your life starts over with me.”

“Only me.”

#jojos bizzare adventure yandere #n/s/f/w jjba #vento aureo #yandere jjba #yandere risotto #la squadra #risotto headcanons #risotto nero

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years ago

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Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff.

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with.

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction.

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could.

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw.

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry.

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working.

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F.

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators.

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call.

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it.

Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to.

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories.

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #covid19 #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #angst

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years ago

Text

Baby, You Light Up My World

well I haven't done this trope yet...

sold to 1D au - modern au - absolutely a fluffy crackfic

I didn't do much editing, I just wrote this for funsies.

Please consider leaving me a comment since it is my birthday month. As both a bisexual and a Leo I desire nothing more than validation.

tw: mild panic attack

---

“Jaskier! You useless layabout!” his mother called from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here!”

The young man dropped the book he’d been reading and jogged down the staircase from his room to the main floor. “Yes, Mother?”

“I had to pay the bills after your father died mysteriously so I sold you online.”

“What!?” Jaskier gaped, jaw dropping.

“Yeah, and your new owners are almost here.”

“My new owners!? M-Mother, what do you mea-”

“Go upstairs and get your shit packed,” the frowning woman interrupted. She lit up a cigarette and rolled her eyes in obvious annoyance. “That doorbell is going to ring any minute now and then my problems are over.”

The shocked teen wandered back up the stairs to his room, where he packed his meagre belongings into his old summer camp duffel bag and laid his father’s old guitar gently in its velvet-lined case. His mind raced with questions. Would they be nice people? Would they be cruel? Would he be happier with these strangers than he was at home or at school? Who were they? Was this even legal?

Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ringing. He grabbed his bag and his guitar and slowly made his way to the front door. His mother was chatting quietly with several people - men, judging by their low voices - and his heartbeat skyrocketed.

“C’mere, boy,” she ordered, snapping her fingers with impatience. Jaskier scurried forward. “Meet the people who are taking you off my hands.”

“Hello, Jaskier,” said a familiar voice. His head shot up, blue eyes wide and confused.

“G-Geralt deRiv!?” his gaze moved from one man to the next in quick succession. “L-Lambert… Eskel?”

It was his favorite band, Wolf Direction.

---

EARLIER THAT MORNING

---

“Why the fuck are you buying another band member?” Lambert asked, glancing over Vesemir’s shoulder to read his laptop screen. “Why not just hold some open auditions?”

“Because this is a fanfiction, Lambert,” their manager huffed. “And this is how Geralt and Jaskier's meet-cute has to happen.”

“Oh.”

---

BACK TO THE STORY

---

Lambert took his guitar and Eskel took his bag while Geralt herded Jaskier onto the large tour bus parked in his too-short driveway. Jaskier was still in shock; his limbs moved on autopilot as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch that stretched along one wall of the bus, beneath the tinted windows. Geralt sat beside him but kept his hands to himself, waiting for the old man with the mustache to speak first.

“Well hello there, Jaskier,” the stranger greeted warmly. “I know this is an unconventional situation but I wanted to personally welcome you to Wolf Direction. I'll admit that it's all a bit sudden and unexpected, but we needed someone with your gentle disposition to help balance out the boys and you're almost the same age, which is convenient.”

"I'm-" Jaskier blinked owlishly. "I'm joining the band?!"

"You're going to be the new front man," Lambert winked.

Jaskier, completely overwhelmed by the events of the past half-hour, passed the fuck out.

Geralt startled a bit as the brunette boy slumped against him and he gave Vesemir a worried glance. “What the fuck?”

By the time Jaskier managed to regain consciousness they were already nearly a hundred miles away. He sat up from the arm of the couch and stretched, listening as several places in his lower back popped into place. “Huhn?”

“Oh!” Eskel grinned, setting down his X-Box controller. “You’re awake!”

“And you’re Eskel.”

“Yeah… I sure hope so.”

“Cool.”

“Please don’t faint again!” Eskel pleaded, propping the smaller boy against a pillow and covering his lap with a blanket. “You scared the shit out of Geralt.”

“Sorry,” Jaskier blushed, allowing himself to be prodded and adjusted. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just been a very weird morning.”

“It’s going to get weirder,” Lambert added, slamming the bathroom door closed behind him. “Because now we have to know which one of us you’d like to bunk with. There are only four bunks and the bus driver has the couch.”

“Uhhh…” Jaskier’s eyes flickered between Eskel and Lambert. “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll take the floor,” Geralt offered, poking his head out from behind one of the bunk curtains. “He’s new and probably terrified. He’ll need more sleep than I do after the day he’s had.”

“I- No, it’s-” Jaskier tried to argue but none of the band members wanted to listen.

“Alright, floor for Geralt. Jaskier can have his bunk.”

Jaskier felt wrongfooted all over again. “Th-Thanks.”

“No problem. You any good at FIFA?” Eskel asked, offering Jaskier a second controller. The young man shook his head and settled back onto the couch.

“I brought a book,” he smiled timidly.

“Oh, you and Geralt will get along swell,” Lambert teased, tossing Jaskier the duffel. “The bus has been infested by bookworms!”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to read a book or two,” Vesemir said over his shoulder. “Might actually manage to fill some of the space between your ears.”

“Fuck off,” Lambert groused. He fumbled his way into his own bunk. “Let me know when it’s time to eat.”

Jaskier, still surrounded by a cloudy sort of surreality, opened his book and lost himself in the pages.

---

TWO WEEKS LATER

---

Jaskier had forgotten how much he hated thunderstorms. He whimpered as another loud bang shook the bus and rattled him in his tiny bunk. Thankfully the driver had parked them for the night, so he didn’t have to worry about crashing into a tree during inclement weather. He was worried about blowing away in the wind, however.

“G-Geralt?” he whispered, poking his head out from behind the dark curtain. Geralt blinked up at him from his air mattress on the floor, still mostly asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna share the bunk tonight? I-” Jaskier licked his lips anxiously and took a deep breath “I’m scared of the storm.”

“Sure,” Geralt lumbered to his feet and slid onto the twin-sized mattress next to Jaskier. Their legs were pressed together and their faces were only inches apart. “Sorry. Bit of a tight squeeze.”

“I don’t mind,” Jaskier muttered. He was glad that the darkness kept Geralt from seeing the way his face had gone red from being in such close proximity to his favorite member of the band.

He and Geralt had been dancing around each other lately - terrified of their very obvious and very mutual feelings for each other - and Jaskier was glad for an excuse to be near him again. Geralt spoke up again: “Scared of storms?”

“I used to have the attic bedroom at my house,” Jaskier explained, keeping his voice low. Eskel was right above them, snoring away. “And once, during a storm, a tree branch flew through my window. I haven’t been able to sleep through the sound of thunder since.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Geralt replied. One of his heavy arms came to rest over Jaskier’s ribcage, holding him without holding him; merely a comforting weight to settle his nerves.

“Me, too,” Jaskier smiled. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed his acknowledgement. He tucked the younger man’s head beneath his chin and started humming an actual tune, running through all of Jaskier’s favorite Wolf Direction songs until he started snuffling quietly. “Sleep, Jask. I’ll keep you safe.”

And he did.

---

TWO MONTHS LATER

---

"Thank you so much, Detroit, we loved being here!" Jaskier waved to the audience and let the microphone drop. He was panting for breath and sweat dripped from his bangs into his eyes, still... this was the happiest he'd ever been. Geralt wrapped a strong arm around his waist, waved to the screaming crowd one last time, and escorted Jaskier into the wings.

"You did great, babe," he smiled. Jaskier grinned up at him.

"Really?"

"You always do."

"You guys are disgusting," Eskel made a fake gagging sound.

"I think it's adorable," Lambert argued. They switched sides every week or so to keep things interesting. "They were made for each other."

"Whatever," Jaskier stuck his tongue out. "This is a found family strangers-to-lovers fic. We can do whatever we want."

"I want to kiss you," Geralt suggested. Jaskier grinned again.

"Sounds like a great ending to me!"

So they kissed, and it was beautiful and sweet and everything Jaskier had ever hoped for.

#crackfic #geraskier crack #witcher crack #geraskier fluff #fluff and crack #the witcher ficlet #geraskier ficlet #happy birthday to me #thank you hermit squad for enabling my gay ass #bouncey's birthday prompt celebration #bouncey's bday ficlets #geraskier nonsense #geraskier fic #geraskier modern au #wolf direction #sold to one direction meme

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papergirllife · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 3

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem , @caratzennie , @johnnysuhnflower , @euphoricchannie , @yeollieseo , @jjhmk , @sherzess , @wonderfulkoreanpop

(lmk if you wanna be on the list)

You’ve been seeing Mr Suh, correction, Johnny, his first name, as per requested by Johnny himself.

“Mr Suh makes me feel older than I already am, you make me feel like a teenager all over again, so you have to call me Johnny. Let me relive my days when I was still a college kid.”

You didn’t mind, things aren’t as awkward between the two of you anymore, Johnny’s been spending time with you, although the two of you never established any sort of labelling towards what this relationship is. You and Johnny only hung out and had meals together, trying out different cuisines, watching movies, even going as far as skipping a day at work to go to the amusement park. He even bought you to an arcade when you told him you haven’t had the chance to venture to one since you were in grade school.

“Why haven’t you ever been to one for so long?” Johnny asked when he finished a round of pinball.

“They said it was a waste of time and that I should spend more time studying,” you said, wondering why Johnny would ask that, isn’t it the same for all the kids?

Whenever you mention your confining life to Johnny, he’d have a faraway look in his eyes, jaw locked in silent rebuke, he doesn’t say anything, he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He would be quite for almost half an hour before he goes back to regular cheerful Johnny, telling you lame jokes that you would surprisingly find funny.

You didn’t have a phone, since your parents forbid you to have one, the only means of communicating is through your email account on your laptop, and even that you must always bear in mind to delete his mails right after, and take further precaution, you didn’t allow him to initiate the sending.

Johnny wanted to buy you one, but you rejected him promptly, you didn’t want him to spend so much money on you, he already spends lots on taking you out to eat. You gave him the excuse that it was too dangerous, and the consequences of getting caught are severe.

You often questioned your relationship with Johnny, you aren’t dumb, you’ve googled him and saw gossip news portals uploading photos of him and some model going out and about in hotels, but those headlines were months ago, the latest news about him was from his interview with Times magazine.

You never had the guts to ask him, you don’t know what you mean to him. What right do you have to question his whereabouts and what he does? He’ll probably be bored of you after he’s known all of you.

You know you shouldn’t think of Johnny that way, it is mean to assume what he’s thinking, especially how well he’s treating you, but seeing those headlines gives you a sense of insecurity, you keep telling yourself that this won’t last, but the thought of not seeing him again made your hair stand. He’s making you happy, a distraction towards the negativity you face in that house you live in, but for how long?

House. You never called it a home, unless you were telling your boss you were leaving, to prevent anyone from questioning your odd way of describing it. It was never a home to you. To you, a home is a place where you feel happy, safe, and most importantly, loved. The closest you’ve ever felt to having these feelings were your grandma and Joh... No, you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you. What were you thinking?

You pushed those thoughts away as you opened your laptop to double check the files that you’ve typed out for your parent’s next important meeting that was supposed to be taking place first thing tomorrow. But when you went through your folders, the files were nowhere to be seen. It’s then you realised that the notification that keeps urging you to update the laptop was gone, it wasn’t the first time you updated the laptop and found out some files were missing, so you would never update the laptop at such a crucial time.

You took the laptop out to your father who was watching some news on his phone in the dining area to ask him if he had updated the software without alerting you.

“Yes, I did. What about it?” he asked, annoyance on his face due to the sudden disturbance.

“The files are missing because of the update,” you informed him.

“What files?”

“The files for tomorrow’s meeting, they’re missing,” you told him as you mentally prepared yourself for what’s to come.

“What do you mean missing?! I bet it was because you saved it wrongly again! Your retarded brain never works does it?! Do you know how important those files are?! You always work on them late at night blurry eyed, of course you didn’t save them properly! You could’ve worked on them in the morning before work. but no... You want to ‘exercise’! What a waste of time!” You’re not pretty anyways, what are you doing them for huh?!” Your father shouted, his eyes blazing in rage, his fist slamming onto the glass.

While your father was shouting, your mother was checking the laptop as she complains about how clueless you are. It was like your brain couldn’t take the amount of hurtful words piercing into your mind like daggers, you let out a high pitched scream as tears threatened to fall, your hands covering your ears as your eyes were a blur.

When you could see properly again, you could make up words which sounded like ‘how dare you’ from your father, next thing you registered were the fury in his eyes as he advances on you, hand above his head, ready to hit you. You didn’t know what came over you, but the first thing you did was kicking him away. That’s when a full on fight broke out.

You were filled with rage, your mind wasn’t registering what you were doing. You went into a flight or fight stance and started thrashing and kicking as his hands were holding painfully tight on your wrists after you tried punching him.

Your mom urges the both of you not to fight, her voice barely registering in your head as she sits still on the high chair by the kitchen island, not bothered to even try to cease the fight.

When you finally pushed him away, you ran into your room and locked it. Your chest was heaving from the panic attack that just started, you tried your best to calm yourself down, reminding yourself to breathe, it was suffocating, controlling your breathing as more tears made its way out of your eyes.

When it all stopped, your body succumbed into mental exhaustion, passing out on your bed as the tears finally ceased.

You only woke up for dinner last night, and proceeded to sleep again. Yesterday’s events made you feel numb, other than the pain from the bruises on your arms.

There was a big ugly one on your left upper arm, its colour an ugly shade of green and purple. A few other less serious ones scattered around your lower arms. In other words, you look like a wreck.

You wore a jacket to run even though you were sweating from your previous cardio work outs, feeling a little better after the endorphins in your body kicked in. When you got back, you quickly showered and ate a toast. When you asked for your mother’s phone to remind your boss you were going to take the day off, she told you that weren’t needed at the meeting anymore and that she finished everything last night.

“Just call to say that you’ll be going to work,” she said, not even looking in your direction when she handed you her phone.

But when you called to inform your boss, he told you that he had another part time coming in, and that it was too short of a notice. You said thank you and hung up, but said that you’ll be at work on time today before handing it back to your mother.

You really needed to escape for the day.

You opened the laptop and sent an email to Johnny.

I’m free today. Wanna go out?

You sat on your bed staring at the ceiling as you were sure it was going to be a bit before he replied, but just as you closed your eyes, you heard a distant chime from your laptop.

I’m rushing some stuff at the office today. I’m so sorry, Y/N.

Can I stay in your office? I really wanna get out of the house.

You sounded like a spoiled kid begging for attention, but you really wanted to see him today.

Sure. But you might get bored :) .

I’m leaving the house now :) .

For a 26 year old businessman, he sure loves to use emoticons.

You got changed into jeans and a jacket, you don’t usually wear one if you were going to a secluded area with Johnny, but you had to hide all the marks from last night. You just noticed that they hurt after you accidentally knocked your wrist against something.

You took the bus to the address Johnny wrote down on your diary, it was after one of your dinners together, and he jokingly said that you could always swing by if you wanted, you didn’t know you were going to actually do that.

The bus station wasn’t too far of a walk from his office, since it was just downtown Seoul where the Korea’s financial hub was located.

As you were nearing the office buildings, you stood out like a sore thumb, given the way you were dressed and your age. The people kept giving you stink eyes and sideway glances.

Suh Capital Partners. That was it.

You walked in the rotating doors, only to be greeted by masses of people walking around with smart pads, files, talking on the phone while the assistants take notes. Johnny didn’t mention his company being this big.

You admired the facade of the lobby, it displayed the latest news on a large monitor while futuristic lights hung from the high ceiling, the walls were a perfect balance of steel and wood with a wall of plants filled the wall behind the reception area.

You realised that the people stopped what they were doing before and started looking at you curiously when one of the nicely dressed women from the reception walked up to you.

“Excuse me, miss. May I ask who are you looking for?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning you from top to toe.

You froze at your spot from how cold she sounded, like she didn’t want you around to ruin the aesthetic of the company. You reminded yourself that you weren’t going to see her anytime soon after this and that if you did make a fool of yourself then so be it.

“I’m looking for Mr Suh,” you told her.

She looked taken aback from your answer, but gave you the ugliest sneer when she recovered.

“Miss, this isn’t a school, you can’t just walk in here and demand to see someone without an appointment. Mr Suh is the head of this company, not someone you can just meet without an agreement from him. Please leave this instance,” she said, her tone high pitched enough to gather everyone’s attention, you swore you heard someone laughing a few feet away.

“But...

“That’s my guest, Ms Park.”

You whipped your head back to see Johnny standing behind you. But instead of his usual warm honey eyes, his eyes were a cold and staring daggers into the woman in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Suh. I’ll get back to my work now,” the woman bowed apologetically, going as far as doing it numerous times.

“I’m going to need a key card for her, Ms Park. Send it up to me when you’re done,” Johnny said, but his eyes were scanning the crowd, his employees immediately went back to what they were doing, the large lobby void of any sound other than people rushing to the lift lobby to escape the scene.

Johnny placed a hand behind your back and guided you to the lift lobby after most of the people have taken the ride up to their respective floors.

“I’m sorry,” you said after the coast was clear.

Johnny’s intimidating stance broke as confusion takes over his face.

“What are you sorry for?” Johnny asked, he should be the one saying sorry.

“I’m such an embarrassment, coming here in my jeans and jacket with a canvas bag, looking like a kid,” you said, fingers nervously tugging the straps of your old bag.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nothing’s wrong with being young and dressing your age. They’re just grumpy from all the work. Don’t take their words into account, and you look great. Perfection as always,” Johnny said reassuringly, hands placed on your shoulder, the warmth of his palms calming you slightly.

“No....

You buried your face into your hands as he patted your head, you sneakily glanced up to see him smiling at you with a toothy grin. But you quickly regained posture as you saw an elevator door open with many pairs of legs.

Johnny wasn’t going in even though the lift was going up, that’s when people in the lift realised it was him, and quickly came out of the lift, saying sorry and greeting Johnny.

Johnny guided you in after the lift was cleared empty. His staff looking at you curiously, you weren’t used to having so many pairs of eyes on you, their curious eyes burning holes into you.

Johnny could sense your anxiousness from the way you were hiding behind his tall figure as the two of you walked into his office, there weren’t many people at that time, given the fact that only direct reports of his business partners came up to hand in documents.

You only felt yourself loosen up a bit after you took a seat on Johnny’s armchair in his huge office, overlooking Seoul’s skyline and the cars that were buzzing about on the roads. The view made you calm down a bit from the journey coming up here.

You felt the chair dip as Johnny took a seat on its armrest, his hands coming up to give your shoulders a nice massage. Johnny smiled at the way your eyes lit up from his comforting touch as you looked back to smile at him, he felt a warm feeling deep in his belly as he takes in your beautiful features and the warmth of your shoulders on his fingertips. But as he puts more pressure onto your shoulders, you wince slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Did your boss at work make you lift heavy stuff again?” Johnny asked, his hands ceased all movements, fearing that he would hurt you again.

You automatically thought of your fight with your father last night, it might be because of the force exerted from when he had pushed you.

“N-no, I just didn’t sleep well last night. I watched a horror movie and had a nightmare,” you lied, not knowing how he would react if you told him the truth.

“Be careful when watching these movies, Y/N. If you went to work and your boss really made you move heavy things today, then you would’ve strain your muscles,” Johnny said, going back to massaging your shoulders, but this time gently applying pressure on that spot, rubbing it in clockwise circles to ease the pain.

“I’m fine, Johnny. Didn’t you have work to rush? I don’t want to keep you away from important matters. And my shoulders feel much better now,” you said, moving away from his hands even though you could’ve let him do that forever, it felt so comforting, borderline addictive.

“Okay, I’ll tend to your shoulders again later.” Johnny said as he lays his head on top of yours, a gesture that he had came up with whenever he wanted to show affection to you without crossing uncharted territories, your heart sped up whenever he does that.

You were just sitting on the couch reading one of your old books when you looked up and saw Johnny frowning at his laptop, you placed your book down and made your way to Johnny.

“Don’t frown like that, you’ll get frown lines when you’ll get older, it’ll spoil your handsome face,” you joked.

Your hands reach out to smooth the creases on his forehead, a smile coming back to Johnny’s face.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your busy hand into his, lightly tracing the area between your thumb and your index finger.

“What’s bothering you?” you asked, unbeknownst to you, your lips were unconsciously set in a pout.

“There’s some documents that are supposed to be sent to my office in Chicago, but the English that’s written here isn’t up to standards, I’m worried the staff there won’t understand what the document is stating. I don’t mind correcting it, but I have other things to tend to as well,” Johnny explained to you.

“Can I take a look at it? I had Cambridge classes for 8 years. Guess it’s finally coming in handy. I mean only if you think I’m capable, I don’t want you to think I’m boasting or anything, I just really wanna help...

“Y/N, sweet, I trust you. Just let me get you a laptop,” he said before dialling to his secretary.

Once Johnny sent the files to that laptop, you started correcting some grammatical errors and replaced some terms that weren’t as professional, when Johnny was done with his meeting, you were done with the documents as well.

“Here, take a look. There might be mistakes,” you said after sending him the files back.

“You were reading ‘me before you’, I think you’re fine, Y/N,” Johnny deadpanned.

“Just take a look, just in case,” you pleaded, doe eyes capturing his heart. Nodding, Johnny smiles, doing as you said.

Johnny scanned through the documents, his eyes lighting up brighter after each sentence, a proud smile making way on his face. When he was done, he pulled you close by the waist, and gave you a warm hug, his head nuzzling into your sweater.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I thought I needed to work overtime because of this,” he said, his voice was slightly muffled by the cotton.

“You’re welcome. You can always send me these files when I’m not here, I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” you offered.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Wanna grab lunch? I can hear your stomach rumbling,” Johnny asked after pulling away, a cheeky glint in his eyes.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as you hit Johnny’s shoulders lightly for his teasing, a smile creeping up your face.

“No, I’m not...

“Come on, I know this really nice French restaurant around the corner...

“Johnny I have the file you were...

Doyoung stops in his tracks as he sees you and Johnny being so close to each other.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest,” Doyoung apologises, but his eyes were still wide in disbelief.

“Doyoung. This is Y/N. Y/N, Doyoung is one of my business partners, his dad was my dad’s business partner so now it’s his turn,” Johnny introduces his friend to you, telling you a bit of his background.

You gave Doyoung a tiny bow and soft hello, nerves wrecking up at meeting someone you often see on telly whenever their company has a press conference. You could sense an air of discomfort as Doyoung gives you a questioning look.

“You can just put the files on my desk Doyoung. I’ll take a look at them after my lunch break.”

When the evening rolled in, Johnny had to drive you home before your mom questioned your whereabouts.

“I really enjoyed having you by my side today, Y/N,” Johnny said sincerely after pulling up outside the gated area.

“I should be the one thanking you, I can’t believe those snails cost so much, yet you won’t let me pay you back whenever we have meals together,” you retorted, recalling how your eyes almost flew out of their sockets when you stole a glance at the bill.

“Money is not an issue, Y/N. I told you that many times before,” Johnny reminded you.

“I’ll see you on Saturday?” you asked, changing the subject before he offers to buy you a house or something.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, chuckling at how you diverted his attention.

Johnny unlocked the doors of his car, but right before you pulled onto the handle, Johnny pulled your arm, the place where one of the bigger bruises were located at, making you wince at the unexpected pain.

“Y/N I wanted to ask, wait. Are you in pain? Are you hurt? Did I accidentally hurt you?” Johnny asked his eyes wide in worry.

Before you could protest, Johnny pushed up the sleeves of your sweater, revealing the big ugly bruise on your upper arm, and several others that went downwards until your wrist.

You looked up at Johnny, scanning his face that was frozen in shock, eyes not believing what he’s seeing. His fingers gently tracing every bruise, his other hand rotating your arm gently, to see if there’s more.

“Y/N... Who did this to you?” Johnny questioned, but deep down in his gut, he’s sure it’s who he thinks it is.

“No one, Johnny. I just fell down when I woke up,” you said, lying through your teeth, you didn’t want to, but that was your survival instinct whenever someone asks about your parents.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N, it’s them isn’t it? They hit you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Johnny demanded, he questions why you don’t trust him, was he not worthy in your eyes?

“It’s nothing, Johnny. Goodnight,” you said in a breath before turning away.

You quickly got out of his car and ran to your lift lobby, Johnny was following behind you. But before he could step into the premise, you shut the glass door which could only be opened with a security card on him, mouthing the words sorry before you made your way into a lift.

Johnny banged at the door, shouting for you to come back, before the security guards asked him to leave. He could feel a prickle in his heart as he sees the bruises in his head, the image fresh. He felt red hot anger boiling in his heart, he was going to get you out of that horrible place, no matter what it takes.

#nct smut #nct fluff #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny fluff #nct #wayv #nct dream #nct 127

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redqueen-hypothesis · 4 years ago

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quarantime together ➳ mlqc

➳ WORD COUNT: 3064

➳ GENRE: fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: what are the two of you up to during the quarantine together?

LUCIEN // has a shady history with viruses and flus

lucien has insider info on the virus as one of the most acclaimed researchers (although he’s a neuroscientist but at this point what is lucien), so he’s long prepared for the lockdown before loveland even gets a wind of it happening

he’s part of the team that’s doing research on the virus too, just... remote

did you think that just because he’s staying at home, there’s no more work to be done? no, the man works just as intensely as ever, researching, inputting algorithms, double checking the data on his research reports. you need to remind him to take a break every few hours

you’ve asked him to set an alarm on his phone but all he does is smile and wrap his arms around you tighter, saying that you’re much more pleasant and persuasive to listen to

knows you’re stressed about the virus and shares with you tidbits of information about it, explaining to you how the two of you should be fine just as long as you stay inside your apartment. together.

you get to see him in his glasses more often, which you find far too attractive when paired with that silently intense gaze he wears while buried deep in work. he looks up on occasion to catch you staring with far too wide eyes. caught red handed (or red faced)

what you don’t realise is that he’s watching you too, he’s just faster at looking away before you realise he’s looking at you with an impossibly tender gaze

when you whine a little about wanting to take this opportunity to spend more time with him, lucien doesn’t show it on his face, but his heart feels like it’s warming- oh, it’s melting in his chest

starts cooking dinner with you

much to your surprise, lucien can’t do everything (no, there’s something he actually can’t do) and cooking is one of them. he’s not fantastic at it, or maybe he’s just doing this on purpose so that you have to guide his hands with your own as he helps to chop the vegetables

leans down for you to tie the apron around his neck, and sneaks a gentle kiss or two when you’re most unprepared for it, much to your surprise (and happiness)

pulls you to him out of the blue and squeezes you around the waist before he releases you, saying the temperature is cold and he needs something to warm him up

in the evenings, the two of you snuggle of the couch together to watch old classic films that you’ve either rented out or dug out on netflix, sharing a blanket between the two of you

lucien engages you in discussion about the shows, from what you love about them to what you think of the characters, and sometimes if you’re lucky, lucien will let you pry just a little bit more about the enigma that he is - you feel like he’s unlocked a door to his heart only when he’s around you

occasional anime marathons, you didn’t think that he’d like them, but he seems to have quite an interest in attack of titan season three and death note

prepare for a psychological analysis of the man that is eren yeager

the two of you talk late into the night, until your discussions become more sleep drunk ramblings than any coherent thoughts, and lucien loves it because you’re so much more open and free about letting him know your opinion so much that he doesn’t realise he’s doing the same

lowkey wondering if he should prolong the virus somehow just so the two of you can remain in this little love nest for a little longer

coaxes you into the bedroom when you fall asleep on his shoulder, tucks you up in the blanket before he resumes his research (honestly, does this man ever sleep?)

if you wake up in the middle of the night to see him still typing away on his laptop, your sleepy voice gently scolding him for not taking care of his own health and the hand tugging at his shoulder is more than enough for him to set down his work for the night and join you in bed

he spends just a little longer watching your sleeping face before he joins you in your dreams

VICTOR // monopoly king

daily panique about the stock market (but he does it elegantly, so it’s panique instead of panic, he’s not emotional like other foolish mortals)

wakes up at the brink of dawn, this man is the head of the loveland financial group, a mere virus isn’t going to bring his company down and he knows that he’ll need to work extra to ensure his workers still have jobs to do

cooks breakfast for you while you’re still asleep while listening to the news on the television, gives you updates when you wake up

if you wake up early to the absence of warmth in your shared bed, however, you might catch the rare sight of the one and only li zeyan humming a tune as he beats eggs in what he thinks is an empty kitchen, or stumble upon him having a staring match with the oven

tries to sneakily slip food and drinks that he knows are good for relaxing the body and mind because you’ve been on edge with each news report of the virus that comes in, you notice the new trend in chamomile tea and dark chocolate, but silently eat it up with a smile and thank him for it - let this awkward man show his love in his ways

extremely busy from morning to afternoon with video conferences and phone calls, you press gentle kisses between his furrowed brow between meetings and watch as his expression relaxes before the phone starts ringing again

make a cup of tea or coffee for him, he appreciates it

there’s one time you kissed him on the mouth thinking he was on break but he wasn’t, and it wasn’t until you realised victor had frozen stiff as a board that it clicked - the entire board of the LFG had been watching through the video camera

you’re never stepping foot into that building ever again

even though he’s ridiculously busy with work, victor makes an effort to spend some time with you throughout his busy day. these usually happen in the fifteen minute to hour long breaks between his meetings

he needs something simple and easy to do with you in those small pockets of time

so, card/board games!

the only game he can play decently at the beginning is poker, but is absolutely terrible at uno and monopoly - he’s never actually played them before

calls these games silly at first, but by the third day he’s actually stopping time before his next meeting starts just so that he can count the reverse uno cards he’s put down and ensure his victory

becomes an absolute beast at monopoly and crushes you completely, you sort of regret teaching him this game because he starts educating you on economic theories

“you must buy as many properties as possible at the beginning, there is no reward without risk... this is the game of monopoly... become the monopoly!”

you just shake your head with a sigh. ah, the menace of capitalism.

he fares worse at monopoly deal, looks absolutely stunned at the idea of a ‘deal breaker’ and ‘just say no’

works out in his apartment gym and occasionally pulls you along, saying that you need to exercise and stay healthy or you’ll become a couch potato

you reluctantly go along with him but you’re rewarded with the sight of him working out, i assure you, it’s very worth it

sometimes you shower together which leads to more... if you get what i mean wink wonk

you help him with dinner prep, which is mainly you watching as he whips up a michelin worthy meal for the two of you

you claim you’re helping with the taste testing

that also leads to more. victor enjoys eating off the kitchen island - and more importantly, he enjoys eating you out on it

opens a bottle of wine or whiskey for sometimes no reason at all at night, just to enjoy it with you

the two of you sit at the balcony overlooking the entirety of loveland city from his penthouse, sipping at your wine and talking about everything and anything

dumb arguments like “you stole the entire pile of fifties when i wasn’t looking earlier???” victor is kind of a sore loser

you take some time out to teach him how to play on the piano, what’s the use of that ridiculously expensive grand piano in his penthouse otherwise?

it takes him two nights to learn simple pieces like “ode to joy” and three for “you are my sunshine”, he hasn’t touched the piano for a few years

the eager, almost child-like determination he wears on his face makes your heart warm as he fumbles to place his fingers on the right keys, and you play simple duets together

bedtime snuggles, victor cancels all his late night meetings or postpones them to earlier schedules so that he can hold you close in bed at night

realises what he’s been missing out the entire time and can’t believe that it needed the quarantine to let him know how much he loves falling asleep with you in his arms

resolves to do this more often after the lockdown is over

GAVIN // keep the fire station on speed dial

the entire of loveland city is under lockdown but unfortunately crimes are still happening - the criminals must not have gotten their stay at home notices

even though crime rates have dipped, there are still strange occurrences happening in the city here and there

the police force is still an essential service, and gavin is called out of the blue at the most awkward hours (when you’re eating, when you’re sleeping, when you’re having sex-) to handle high profile cases

you fuss about him while he’s rushing to change into his uniform, securing a mask on his face with a quick kiss to the lips before you put it on to hide his blushing cheeks

never uses the door, just straight up jumps out of your window like a cat burglar running off with your heart

you’re always worried, but gavin reassures you he’ll take care of himself and stay away from people on the ground - he can’t risk getting infected and passing it on to you

buys takeaway snacks and boba for you because he knows you’ve missed them

crashes on the couch if he comes back at odd hours because he’s too tired to get to the bed, wakes up to a blanket draped over him and the smell of frying eggs wafting over from the kitchen

at first he’s a little at a loss for what to do with so much free time, but you encourage him to pick up old hobbies he’s long forgotten about by asking him to share them with you

wii games!! nintendo switch!! xbox!! you’ve never seen gavin’s face light up so fast when he delivers a critical hit to your character in super smash bros... and immediately starts spluttering apologies to you like he’s committed a cardinal sin

kiss him to shut him up, and he sinks into it with a muffled sigh. poor birdcop needs a break

he misses his boxing gym, and the closest thing you two get to that are pillow fights, although he’s careful not to use too much strength as he gently bats you with a cushion

you always end up winning since he’s too soft to hit you with very much effort

tries to pick up ‘home cooking 101′ and searches youtube for asmr cooking videos

watches them so intensely you’re a little bit intimidated by the sharpness of his gaze (it’s a cooking video on how to make lemonade, for god’s sake)

peaceful cuisine and nino’s home are his go to channels

more often than not his solo attempts in the kitchen end up in disaster and you wonder whether it would be safer to have a fire extinguisher in the house. gavin wholeheartedly agrees as he rushes to slam the lid over the frying pan of flaming oil

he’s more at ease carrying out critically dangerous missions than turning on the stove, and flinches whenever the spark igniter sets the gas alight - this is why he sticks with instant noodles and cup rice

you offer to teach him, however, and he’s hard pressed to turn you down when you look at him light that

he’s good at kneading dough! it’s one of his only talents in the kitchen, but he’s very good at it. it also gives you a chance to salivate over those forearms, i mean, that tasty, tasty dough!

can make a mean soy sauce egg fried rice, but that’s about the only thing he can make

takes this time to fix up his motorcycle and make some improvements on it, but is kind of sad because he can’t go for a spin. he misses being on his bike

the plus side of this quarantine though, is that he can reach for you any time he has the urge to embrace you or feel you, and that is many, many times in a day

at first he was a little shy and awkward about it, but when you told him that you appreciate him being forward about what he wants, he’s become a lot more comfortable with initiating contact

pulls you into his lap for random cuddles, brushes your hair back to give the shell of your ear a light kiss, squeezes your hands when you’ve spent a long time drafting up plans for shows to make once the quarantine is over

has some uh... pent up energy that he needs to release without the adrenaline rush of the missions he’s used to

translates well to gavin being more dominant and vocal in the bedroom, something you’re very appreciative of. you hope gavin knows that as much as your neighbors surely do by now

braids your hair just for fun when the two of you are lying in bed with nothing to do

wraps his arms around you tight

KIRO // screaming into the unknown at the skyscrapers in the distance

is going crazy with cabin fever

he wants to go to the park!! he wants to feel the sun on his face!! his favourite food festival is cancelled!! he was really looking forward to seeing it with you :(

pouts for days, but is magically alright if you kiss him

“maybe that’s your power, ms chips! give me another kiss to make sure!”

wakes you in the morning (unintentionally) with his vocal exercises. you blink open your eyes to see him standing at the balcony with his hands on his hips and singing chromatic scales or practice songs to the other apartment blocks

sometimes someone shouts back if he starts too early in the morning and he retreats inside sheepishly

they’re getting a free kiro concert

it’s like having your own personal rooster/alarm clock, but his voice is so angelic you can’t be blamed for falling back asleep

brought his cat, cello, back to your shared apartment to take care of since he can’t just leave cello in the studio with the quarantine going on

you spend lazy afternoons as cat parents, putting gacha outfits on the cat and filming stories for kiro to put up on tik tok and instagram

#celloathome trends on twitter

weekly check ins with savin to say ‘yes, kiro isn’t only eating junk food’, ‘yes, kiro is doing vocal practices every day’, ‘you’re sure you’re not snacking on everything in the apartment?’

he is eating snacks that you’ve stocked up on but reminds himself not to eat too much since he’s not exercising as much anymore

teaches you the choreography to his favourite songs!

you’re lagging far far behind him in terms of skill and coordination but he praises you and cheers you on anyway

on the slow ballad tracks on his albums, he’ll pull you close and just sway with you along to the beat, pressing his lips to your hair

this little ball of sunshine wants the sun!! he needs to recharge on that good ol’ vitamin d, so he hangs out at a sunny spot on the balcony - more often than not you’ll find him napping on there, legs propped up on the balustrade and arm shielding his eyes from the sun

plays a lot of online multiplayer games such as DOTA, World of Warcraft and LOL, roping you along to play on his team. it doesn’t matter how bad you are at them, he wants you with him. he enjoys playing as the damage dealer with stealth abilities, and does ridiculously low baritones or high pitched simpers to hide his identity online.

plays the guitar to serenade you, but the difference is that he’s on the balcony begging forgiveness because you locked him out for making a mess of the kitchen in his snack raid

scrolls through social media constantly to update his fans about how he’s doing at home, and is very up to date with the trends on twitter like dance challenges

participates in every single one of them and makes you film them for him, but he’s so funny your hands shake with every take and the two of you have to try over and over again

livestreams!! concerts from home!!

let’s you dye his hair when you’re bored. pink mohawk? he rocks it. black curls? he looks stunning. silver dye?

“ahh, no, no i don’t want to look like an old man,” kiro laughs as he pulls the tube of hair colouring away from you as you pout. you find it in the trash a few days later.

kiro gets frisky when he’s bored, hands wandering over your hips and up your shirt when you’re unaware. sometimes you smack them away, sometimes you don’t

the two of you sleep at the strangest times, ranging from ten at night when you’re bored with nothing to do or four in the morning when the two of you binge movie series

this can’t be healthy but kiro’s smile makes it all worth it as he munches on microwaved popcorn next to you. it tastes like salted styrofoam but kiro takes what he can get - beggars can’t be choosers

he can’t wait to get back to work and seeing his beloved fans once again, but part of him doesn’t want to give up the peaceful lull of this simple, domestic lifestyle in which the world revolves only around the two of you

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor #mlqc kiro #lucien #lucien xu #mr love lucien #lucien fanfic #kiro #kiro zhou #mr love kiro #gavin bai #mr love gavin #gavin x reader #victor li #mr love victor

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joonsdiary · 5 years ago

Text

jamais vu (m)

↳ noun | the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time.

(are you the remedy to my broken heart?)

pairing: jungkook | reader | taehyung genre: slice of life au, acquaintances to friends (to lovers?) au // heaps of angst, a tiny bit of smut, a sprinkle of fluff word count: 13,4k

— warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, hints of gaslighting, mild descriptions of a panic attack, themes of infidelity, sexual intercourse (protected penetrative sex, implied female masturbation)

— note: mildly inspired by the films lost in translation and ocean waves, as well as jamais vu by bts (hence the title). some concepts were derived from my wip list, so in a way this was my remedy for the writer’s block i was having while writing ‘worth fighting for’. i hope in one way or another it can be your remedy, too. (p.s. despite being inspired by lost in translation, i haven’t actually seen the film so this won’t be exactly like that adkjhsd)

— playlist: carry me home - jorja smith ft. maverick sabre / sweet insomnia - gallant ft. 6lack / drew barrymore - sza / run - joji / truth is - sabrina claudio / bath - offonoff / ghostin - ariana grande / ... etc!

There’s something thrilling about sitting in the backseat of a car past midnight, windows rolled down as the driver chases the destination planted on her navigation device. You welcome the cool breeze that tangles your hair into an uncomfortable mess, as it only helps propel your heart rate faster. Inhaling slowly allows you to savour the musky scent of the earth shortly after being bathed with rainwater; if this is what freedom tastes like, you wish to savour as much of it as you could.

Eventually, the exhilaration wears down as the city lights blur into a cacophony of colours. It’s incoherent and indiscernible, yet it possesses the ability to lull you into a dream-like state. You had the utmost privilege of plugging your phone into the aux cord, therefore the familiar voice of your recently played songstress croons softly against the speaker, filling the cold, void spaces in between. Your heavy eyelids fall into an accustomed pattern, gradually flickering until it closes shut.

Sleep beckons; fatigue welcomes you into the abyss, and you embrace it with open arms.

Well, almost.

“Can you roll the windows up? It’s freezing,” he mumbles as he sinks further down the leather chair. You jolt awake at his sudden announcement, but he doesn’t apologize for disturbing your calmness.

“Hm? Yeah, of course,” your fingers scramble to find the right button to press until the tempered glass lifts, shielding you away from the busy city. You want to argue that it’s not even that cold, but he scoots closer towards you, tugging on your left arm before burying his head in the crook of your neck.

A wistful sigh escapes your lips and you turn to place a quick kiss on his crown. You immediately understand the exhaustion that plagues you both, brought about by the time difference between the country you came from and the one you’re currently visiting. You glance out the window once more as your thumb plays with the golden band on your ring finger.

Seoul is beautiful. The city itself is alive, evident by the way the summer stars in the night sky are dimmed by the light that emits from the numerous buildings and towers that create Seoul’s skyline. Looking at it from above while on a plane is similar to peeking at a telescope to view a galaxy far away, dotted by billions of brilliant stars. But despite the breathtaking aerial view, nothing feels more intimate than weaving through its streets.

Although you can tell its old roads are recently refurbished, unsurprisingly, which buries any inkling of familiarity beneath the cold cement. Despite you knowing the place, there’s still something different about it, like buying a new laptop to replace the old one. The specs are guaranteed to be exactly like its predecessor, but the fact that it comes in a sleek box, still unspoiled and untouched, fascinates you all the same. It begs to be used until you’re so attached to it that you refuse to part ways even just for a singular moment. That’s what defines Seoul for you.

But the city can wait. There will be plenty of opportunities to explore and rekindle your love affair with the town you once called your home. For now, your reason for being lays cradled within your arms, encapsulated within the bubble you desperately wish would stay intact, unmarred by the destructive forces of reality.

Although those illusions of fantasy can only take you so far. The fragility of your relationship is beginning to materialize into a spectre, its gaunt face haunting you in every corner you look. There’s no escaping the truth as it will, without a fail, catch you in one form or the other.

“What are you thinking about?” he hums lazily, soft breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“Just excited to finally be back after so long.”

“That’s right, you moved away long before I did.”

“Mhm.”

The discussion flickers out of existence, whose life is shorter than that of a fire in measly matchstick. You aren’t much of a conversationalist, and you appreciate that neither is he. Is that the defining trait that convinced you to marry the man sitting next to you three years ago? Perhaps. You like that he gives you the time and space to bask in your thoughts when you need it, even if there are moments where you’d like nothing more than to connect with him like you used to.

“I miss you,” slips out before you’re able to hold your tongue back. But you don’t scramble to reclaim the words like you usually do, followed by an apologetic I didn’t mean it like that. You let the phrase simmer, hoping it will soak him to the bones enough that it becomes his wake up call.

But, “I’m right here,” is all he says.

The him-of-past would have cradled your face in his big hands, turned you so that you’re face to face before he makes a silly face that will make you laugh. He’ll say you’re being silly for even thinking of such thoughts when he’s always been by your side, and forever will be. It will follow one chaste kiss, then a second, and before you could blink his limbs will tangle with yours, hearts beating fast but in unison, nonetheless.

“I know,” you murmur.

Perhaps he believes it’s enough that he’s there beside you, physically. Perhaps it’s wise to presume the same. It’s only wishful thinking to expect otherwise, after all.

Jungkook believes he’s a creature of habit. Or, he used to be, at least.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with falling into a certain pattern in life, especially at his age; God knows he needs a stable rock to hold on to so he doesn’t get carried away by the raging currents of the river.

But it had only been once upon a time where he enjoyed such endeavours; waking up, coming down to work, going back up to bathe, before finally retiring to bed. Yes, he’ll find pockets of time to eat meals, of course. Days come when he has the freedom to choose to go to the gym, instead, so his life isn’t completely mundane. There’s a nuance to such life, and he always aspires to have the propensity and the undeterred tenacity to stick to such a strict regimen.

However, days began to bleed into each other with the same shade of grey, indiscernible and incomprehensible. It’s not necessarily a lousy experience because he never felt starved or threatened out of his home. Life for him is like cruising down the endless highway, foot off the gas but going at one hundred kilometres per hour all the same. The figures he passes by become obscured by the speed he’s going at, but at the very least he’s still heading somewhere.

It’s only recently he’s fully realized the futility of his mundane schedule. She’d told him so.

“Don’t you want to break away from all of that? From your parents’ expectations of you?” her voice comes softly through the phone. His moments together with her are often brief and hurried, their conversations cut short by external forces acting upon them both. It’s dinnertime for him, but she has to drop the call in order to catch the early bus for work. Such a prick, time and distance can be.

(Perhaps, he now looks back and thinks to himself, they’re merely trying to find more reason to converse less with each other. Since when did it start, the feeling of obligation?)

“Are you suggesting that I—”

She says yes without letting him finish his sentence.

So he finds vigour in his life once more as he throws himself into his work, constantly propelled forwards by the need to meet an end goal: Save up enough to be able to move halfway across the world. To see her. To be with her.

But the respite is brief, however.

The more money is stored in his bank account, the less he thinks of the idea as brilliant. Is he ready to uproot his life from the only home he knows to move in with somebody he has only met through the screen of his phone?

Looking at the bigger picture, nothing else has changed in his life. He needs a true break; a real step back from a routine that is numerous years in the making.

Having sex with a stranger in a random motel seems like a good way to go about it, he thinks.

Several hours prior, his friends asked him to go out drinking with them. Jungkook, who rarely makes time for such occurrences, naturally agrees, surprising the very same acquaintances that invited him. At that point he believes they’re only asking to be polite, not having the courage to kick him out of an old group chat formed during their college days. They never expected him to say yes then, and they didn’t until now.

Countless bottles of beer and a few shots of liquor later, he’s fumbling with the zipper of his tight jeans. The woman, whose name he didn’t have the courtesy of asking, giggles as she rises from the bed to approach him.

Mistake number one.

“Do you need help, love?”

He fumbles through his words, unable to form a coherent thought. It’s not that he’s completely inexperienced — although the woman probably thinks he is by the way he acts — it’s just that, admittedly, it’s been a good while since he’d had sex with anybody. Add the nervousness to his inebriated state, and he’s got himself in quite the dilemma.

Mistake number two.

“I’m guessing you like them tight,” the woman points out.

“Huh?” his head whips towards the woman, eyes wide and mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Your jeans, I mean.”

The woman chuckles once again as he attempts to peel the fabric off his skin. “Wasn’t really planning on this, that’s why.”

Mistake number three.

“But you have this,” an inconspicuous packet is pulled from his back pocket. Jungkook merely grins sheepishly in response. The woman kneels as she grips his underwear but he grabs her hand and pulls her up instead, crashing her body into his. He recalls her murmuring something about getting straight to the point, but he’s unsure if the woman meant it as a complaint or a compliment. He didn’t bother asking to elaborate, because none of this is even supposed to happen.

Mistake number four.

Guilt bubbles from within his chest, gnawing at every nook and cranny of his consciousness.

Mistake number five.

He’d have to tell her sooner rather than later. It would be fucking shitty of him not to. But before he has the time to steer clear of trouble and save himself from potentially ruining the only good thing he has going in his life, the woman’s lips are on him. There’s no going back now, he assumes.

Mistake number six, seven, eight.

Nine: His kiss feels famished as he drinks in each quiet moan that comes out of the woman’s lips. Every second feels reinvigorating like he’s sitting in front of the roller coaster as the ride pauses before the first drop. When the wheels turn and roll against the metal railroad track, he stumbles back and falls into the bed. He’s here for the thrill, which would bring the total up to ten so far.

Eleven is when he watches the woman slip the condom with ease, sheathing him. His presumed experience she possesses excites him further; that is number twelve.

He loses count when she traps him between her knees as she licks two of her fingers at once, before hiking up her skirt.

Jungkook wants to laugh at his lack of perceptiveness. Tactless when it comes to asking for the woman’s name; even more inadequate and impolite not to think about prepping her.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, head tilting to the side as wisps of her hair fall across her face as she grinds herself against him. He bites back a moan as he looks away from her. It probably would be best not to tell her. He then catches his reflection in the mirror, and despite the dimmed lights he could outline the expression he’s making; a reflection of someone unrecognizable.

“There’s a mirror,” he pauses as she gets a hold of him, her warmth enveloping him as she slowly sinks onto him. His hips jerk seemingly involuntarily in response, and she groans, tossing her head backwards. He forgets to speak altogether. The woman does the same, opting to mumble profanity, instead.

Jungkook wishes to hide the shame and guilt, the wrongfulness, the missed opportunities to say no. Is his need to feel something other than the heaviness of his heart worth all the pain he’s about to put not only himself but the person he wishes to spend the rest of his life with?

And so he buries himself deeper before denial could even stake a claim in the vast expanse of his thoughts. If to forget is to lose himself in the pleasure of someone else’s company, then he’ll desperately seek the ecstasy he’s craved for so long until he’ll see stars beneath the darkness of his eyelids.

His breathing is no longer erratic when he comes into consciousness.

“That was good,” she breathes out softly, and he turns in time to watch her brown eyes disappear from view.

“I have to go.”

He gets up from the bed and begins to move on autopilot, picking up his discarded clothes one by one. The woman immediately sits up and asks with an evident frown on her face, “Already? Didn’t you have fun?”

The corners of his lips are pulled upwards into a grin. “It’s for work.”

“At this hour? It’s almost one.”

“Midnight shift.”

When he’s dressed, he hesitates at the foot of the bed, shifting weight from one leg to the other. He’s never been the best with words, and his unexpectedly expected tryst with a stranger leaves him at a loss for what to say. It doesn’t help that the woman refuses to meet gaze with him.

I wouldn’t want to look at me either, he thinks bitterly to himself.

“Thank you for your time. I hope to see you around,” his half-truth is enough to pluck a rueful smile from her lips.

The bus ride back home is the longest one Jungkook thinks he’s taken ever since he moved to Seoul.

You watch as Taehyung lazily drags his feet behind him each step he takes towards the bed and breakfast place you decided to rent. The cicadas chatter loudly as if to cheer him on. A few more steps, they urge.

“Come on, Taehyung,” you groan from above the stairs, already reaching the top long before he does. “I’m about to pass out, too. But can we do it once we get to the bed?”

“I’m literally, like, dead,” you can’t help the roll of your eyes at his dramatic statement. But you hold your tongue back at any other snide comments that might offend him further. Patience is the key with him, always. Complaining to him, as you did earlier, will only force him to act against your wishes.

He reaches the top with a huff and a hand on his bent knees, handing you the duffel bag that’s filled to the brim with your clothes and his.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” is your attempt at making the situation lighthearted and less serious than it needs to be.

“Still should have booked a hotel, instead,” his nose scrunches in obvious dismay.

“For the last time, I thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” gone is the Taehyung of previous, whose tiredness begins with softness around his personality. It’s not unusual for him to get cranky after being jet-lagged. But hey, guess what, so are you!

You ignore him for fear of escalation as you make your way inside. A quiet chime of the bell signals your arrival, and your gaze meets a familiar set of doe eyes; someone you knew once upon a time in a place you can pinpoint exactly. His expression mirrors that of your surprised one as he tries to figure you out. It wouldn’t surprise you if he doesn’t recognize you as you did him.

It’s Taehyung who breaks your state of bewitchment when his shoulder bumps into your arms as he jogs towards the receiving desk.

“Hey, stranger! How long has it been?” Taehyung exclaims a little too loudly, his state of disarray seemingly vanishing in a flash. With the roll of your luggage as a guide, you follow after him, standing nimbly behind the shadow of his confidence.

“Since we graduated high school? Probably ten years,” he says humorously.

“That long, huh? Damn.”

They fall into a small talk which is somewhat out of sync, which is understandable considering the amount of time they haven't been in contact with each other. No matter how close they had been during their teenage years, some words are hard to come by more than others.

He suddenly calls your name out in a greeting, and you peak over Taehyung’s shoulder with a small wave of your hand. “Hey, Jungkook.”

His smile is gentle, and your mood shifts entirely.

“Are you back here on a trip?”

It’s clear the question was directed to you, but Taehyung absolves you the courtesy of answering. “Actually, it’s a work-related thing. She wanted to tag along.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” you say with a strained chuckle, and Jungkook glances between you and Taehyung.

“Ah, I see. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair,” he slides a pair of keys in your direction. “It’s well past midnight, so I’m sure you guys are tired from your flight.”

Taehyung snatches it up, and it falls into the pocket of his slacks with a soft jingle. He thanks him with enthusiasm before turning towards the direction of the elevator.

“Hope I see you around. Have good night.”

Something about your greeting has Jungkook’s eyebrows creasing in discomfort for a split second before he gives you a small nod. “I’ll be here if you need anything else.”

But he isn’t there to greet patrons by the next morning when you go down for your complimentary breakfast. Taehyung did not join you, opting for an extended hour of sleep. You didn’t mind, but you couldn’t lay aimless in bed for too long; you’ve always been a morning person, after all.

So you sit by your lonesome in the vast dining area, surrounded by an old couple in one corner and a young family of four in the other. The two children fight for the last remaining pancake while the parents share a hushed discussion. You glance down at your warm abalone porridge.

There was a time when you imagined such a life with Taehyung—a family you can call your own. Of course, it’s by no means too late for you; at the tender age of twenty-eight, you know that life still has a lot to offer. But approaching three years into your marriage, Taehyung does not present any hints of wanting such a future with you. Sure, the topic has been brought about occasionally, but never serious enough to be considered anything but a passing daydream.

“I hate to break it to you, but that soup isn’t going to give you the answers to your most pressing question, even if you stare at it like that.”

You look up to see Jungkook wearing an amused expression, carrying a plastic bag on his right hand. He follows your trail of gaze and lifts the item into view.

“I might have raided the kitchen before my shift is over. Don’t tell a single soul,” his gaze holds differently, but the smile he wears is the same one from his youth.

“Cross my heart,” you humour him, and his grin grows wider. “Have a safe trip home.”

His nose wrinkles in contemplation. “If you mean be careful going up the stairs to my room, then sure, I will.”

Your brows lift in confusion, “You rent here?”

“You could say that. I own this place,” the chair scrapes against the tiled floors as he welcomes himself into your bubble. “Well, sort of. My parents own this, but my older brother and I manage it.”

“You should have said so earlier!” you chuckle, placing your chin on your palm as you turn to face him. “I would have asked for a discount.”

“Ouch, this is exactly why I didn’t do that in the first place. It’s opportunists like you that I’m terrified of.”

“Okay, Richie Rich, I knew you were always a selfish prick even then.”

“Hah!” he exclaims, leaning closer. “I’m well aware of my reputation back then, and none of them was ‘selfish’. In fact, there was always a lot of me to go around.”

“I highly doubt that, somehow.”

“You wouldn’t know,” he says in a casual tone while crossing his arms in front of his chest. He gives you a knowing look. “You were always with Taehyung.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” you mumble against your palm, your voice growing quiet. Your ring suddenly feels heavy on your finger.

“Mhm, that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard you two got married a few years back. In another country, no less. Congratulations, by the way,” his tone softens, mirroring your sudden predisposition for a hushed conversation.

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile. “Married life is…”

“Different?” he offers, and you nod wordlessly. You would’ve chosen a different word for it, but you’re glad he finished the sentence for you. “All my other friends who’re in the same situation say so.”

“And you?”

He wears the same troubled expression from hours ago, but only for a brief moment. He mimics your posture as his face lights up with the biggest smile you’ve seen him wear. You know that expression; there was a point in time where you’d wear the same elated look when someone asks you about Taehyung.

“Long-distance. But we’ve been together for a couple of years,” he hesitates briefly, before continuing. “I’m leaving in less than two weeks to move in with her.”

“Where to?”

He reveals the name in a hushed tone, almost as if it’s meant to stay a secret between the two of you.

Your eyes widen with bewilderment, and he grins sheepishly. “Wow, that’s—”

“Halfway across the world? I know.”

It’s only when there’s a pause that you realize what your intended purpose is. So you dig a spoonful of the soup and chase the heat away with a quick blow before taking a quick bite.

“You’re really here just to tag along with Taehyung?”

You look at him in surprise, not expecting the subject to be brought out once again. “Not really. We um…”

You hesitate, unsure whether to share your thoughts or not. But Jungkook is neither a friend nor a stranger and is possibly the perfect candidate. There’s nothing that binds you to him and in a few weeks, you’d be back to being strangers. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember your story.

“We didn’t really have an official honeymoon after our marriage, and this was supposed to be it,” you chuckle, trying to play the situation off nonchalantly. “He sort of double-booked because he couldn’t turn down this gig.”

“That seems shitty, to be honest.”

You’re taken aback by the ruggedness of his tone, and you immediately jump to defend Taehyung. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve been back home.”

“Yeah, you missed out on our high school reunion just by a month,” his aura is lighthearted once more, and you’re glad for it.

“You went?”

“Nah, there was nothing good to reminisce about high school.”

You turn to him with your mouth agape. “This is coming from the captain of the football team, Jeon Jungkook?”

“Ah, come on, stop with the teasing,” he says as he rolls his shoulder back, before clearing his throat. “It just so happened that I was good at kicking. And running. And scoring goals.”

Undeterred by his boasting, you give him a sly smirk. “I’m sure you revelled in the attention. There was enough of you to get around, you said?”

“Now you get it.”

You giggle and he laughs along with you. The interaction gives you a certain heaviness within your chest but at the same time, you feel lightheaded, almost as if you’re about to soar towards the heavens.

“I should go catch some sleep,” he says once your euphoria dies down. “I’ve had a long evening.”

“I’ll let you get to it, then,” you say almost wistfully. He mumbles a quiet later! and you allow your gaze to follow his movement.

“Don’t get lost on your way.”

He looks back and motions a mock salute. “I’ll come knocking on your door if I need help with directions.”

However, three days go by without seeing Jungkook; not in his usual spot at the entrance of the building, and nowhere near the kitchen or the lounge area. Although you weren’t looking for him by any means because Taehyung constantly kept you busy, dragging you from place to place to take cityscape photos for his client. Despite the constant travelling, it’s hard to enjoy the scenery when the affair appears to be completely one-sided.

There’s no mistaking the fact you’re extremely proud and gratified that Taehyung pours his heart and soul into each project he throws himself at. But would it hurt that much for him to point his lenses towards your direction even just once? Surely, your whole trip will not consist of you constantly waiting on him.

He must’ve noticed your affliction because suddenly the weight of his stare begins to feel heavier each quiet second that passes.

“Bored yet?” he asks, left hand on the wheel and the other placed on the knob to change the car’s gear. Your eyes flit back to him and his right palm opens for you to take. With your fingers interlocked, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles.

It’s difficult to harbour resentment towards him when he makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter with merely the tiniest of gestures.

“With you? Never.”

He chuckles, and you feel the rumbling of his chest as he presses the back of your hand against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat doesn’t match your erratic, nervous one.

“Hm, you should have said yes. I was going to save you of having to come with me later,” his tone is playful, and a small smile adorns his flushed lips.

“What’s happening later?” you shift in the passenger seat to face him.

“The dinner with Min, my client. I told you, remember?”

You carefully sift through your mind regarding your recent conversations with him. You recall them being short and clipped, sure, but none told you of a certain meeting with somebody else. So, you tell him in earnest, “No.”

“I’m sure you’re just forgetting,” his grip on you loosens, and you reclaim your hand before it falls on his lap.

No, you’re one-hundred-percent certain you would remember something as important as that. Yet you don’t tell him so and instead, you yield with a wordless nod.

“You mean to tell me you’re going to miss out on having takeout dinner with me?” you ask, attempting to humour him, but your tone mistakenly comes out tasting bitter on your tongue. The silence that ensues sears into your brain like the afternoon Seoul sun, prickly and scorching hot to the touch.

“You can come with, if that’s what you want. I’ll tell you in advance that it’s going to be boring, though, since we’re going to talk about work.”

Somewhere along the line, you presume Taehyung has developed the proclivity towards telling pretence with a straight face. It catches you off guard when you join him for the much-anticipated dinner that he apparently told you about. It’s not the fact that “Min” turns out to be a woman — you have no qualms about that. Taehyung is somebody who could make acquaintances with somebody while waiting in line for their prescription in a pharmacy. Rather, it’s the way he prepped you for the oncoming conversation or your lack of inclusion in any of them, for that matter.

Introductions aside, you found her to be amicable and friendly. But afterwards, you fell behind two steps as they divulged into a topic other than work. Despite the premise that the chat would be boring, Taehyung is deeply engrossed in whichever story she decided to share. You didn’t have quite the energy to match theirs, so instead of playing catch up, you decided to stop walking altogether. You watch as their figures grow smaller on the horizon, not even bothering to look back and ask if you’d like to join them.

She laughs at something Taehyung says and automatically reaches to grab his arm as she giggles along with him. When she makes eye contact with you, instinct tells you to force a smile. And you did, uncaring if she perceives your gesture to be nothing but utter bullshit.

You busy yourself with studying the restaurant instead as you pensively wait for food to be served. The dim lights of the room create a warm ambience — romantic, almost.

The gears in your brain stop turning as they click into place. Your pulse gums with vigour as you feel the sweat seeping through the pores of your palms. Suddenly, the vast expanse of the dining hall feels suffocating; there’s no room for you. To breathe, to feel, to be.

“I’ve got to go.”

You suddenly feel lightheaded as you begin seeing multiples of dark spots, clouding your vision. The floor caving beneath you, and you struggle to keep afloat.

“What?” Taehyung looks at you with wide eyes but makes no move to hold you back from gathering your things.

“I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend today,” you say with self-assurance, miming the same expression he wore when he lied: I told you, remember?

Taehyung stands when you move away from the table and hope blooms dangerously in your chest; your wish for him to hold you back and stop you from leaving begins to permeate.

(Though in hindsight, you should have known better.)

“I’ll call a cab for you.”

Static fills the void, and for the first time in his life, Jungkook fears the silence rather than basking in it. He’s unsure when his words began to fail him; is it because he’s nervous he’ll slip up and say the wrong thing? Truly, at this point, being seen as the bad guy should be the least of his concerns.

Because as far as any human with a functioning brain thinks, he’s already fucked up in more ways than one. There’s no returning from the level of hell he’s put himself in.

“Are you still there?”

Her voice is patient, but he can tell she’s apprehensive.

“Uh, yes—just, thinking.”

There’s a brief pause before an accusatory, “Look, if you’re having second thoughts then maybe it’s too early.”

He immediately leaps from the couch of the empty lounge area. It’s a little past eleven at night, so everyone is either already in their rooms or out enjoying the city, which gives Jungkook a leg room for privacy.

“What? No, that’s not it!”

Two years isn’t too damn early. He feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime; tired of the time difference, tired of the distance, tired of being deprived of touch. Tired of the same old city, with the same predictable people. Everything around him is starting to feel foreign; the steps that lead to the bed and breakfast lodging, the corner street that sells the best tteokbokki he’s ever tasted in his life, the crosswalk that has malfunctioning lights which should be a public safety hazard but at this point he thinks will never be fixed. It’s all mundane, cycling through the same wheel of routine.

He no longer wants to feel apathetic when he faces his future while he houses resentment on his present self milling around aimlessly. She’s his only ticket to escape, so he better stop fucking around and tell her the truth.

But where to begin?

“Listen, I—”

“Whatever it is, can you please just say it? I’m leaving for work soon.”

He takes two steps back, for fear of retribution. Is he ready to ruin the entirety of her day?

“Never mind. I’ll talk to you later. Have a great day at work.”

She heaves a sigh, and preemptively ends the call.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he mumbles as he stares at his phone with her name printed in big letters across the screen. He contemplates pressing the call button and finally telling her everything—her work be damned. He knows that he owes her the truth at the very least.

But you come barrelling down the door, barefoot as you clutch your heels safely between your armpit. You’re dressed formally, yet casual enough for a nice dinner outside plenty of Seoul’s restaurants. But the slight stutter in your step and your somewhat dishevelled hair tells Jungkook all he needs to know. He doesn’t have to hazard a guess.

“Jungkook!” you raise your arms as you exclaim, and the wooden floor welcomes your shoes with a loud thud. “It’s been so long. What are you doing here?”

He laughs, not because of your deeply inebriated state, but because of your inquiry. What the hell am I doing here? He’s been asking himself that very same question without an answer in sight for a while now.

Though he doesn’t have time to answer because you almost knock him over when you skid over to wrap your arms around his neck. His senses are overwhelmed with the pungent smell of liquor, mixed with a subtle hint of rose water.

“I miss you.”

Jungkook is perplexed by your brutal honesty, to say the least. Though he knows to excuse any action while somebody is foolishly drunk, so long as they are not harming anybody or themselves. You grow quiet, and Jungkook is about to ask where you’ve been when he feels dampness on the front of his button-up shirt. He looks down and sees you visibly shaking, before grabbing at his sleeves seemingly for physical support.

It’s when you ask, with conviction, “Why did you hold me back?” that he realizes you aren’t referring to him. So, he wordlessly wraps his arms around you as he pats your back reassuringly. He doesn’t mind that you began sobbing louder, not even when a guest comes through the door and gives him a perplexed expression. He simply nods in their direction as a form of acknowledgement before giving a tight-lipped smile.

When minutes pass and Taehyung doesn’t arrive, he puts two and two together and concludes that he had to be the reason. His heart squeezes painfully as you attempt to swallow a sob which ends up sounding more agonizing and hollowed, carrying with them the weight of all the sorrow you’ve seemingly piled up.

When your cries are reduced to soft hiccups, you pull away from him with a quiet apology. Jungkook shakes his head as he places his palms delicately against your face before wiping the remnants of your sorrow away from your cheeks.

“Better?”

“No,” you sniffle. “I feel like shit.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I wanna go out again. Will you come with me?” you look up at him, bleary eyes pleading. Jungkook dips his chin as he guides you to sit on the leather couch, which you thankfully follow.

“At this rate, you’re going to pass out before we step foot outside the building.” With a sigh, he crouches down to reach eye level with you. “Do you need to puke?”

“I already did that after getting off the cab earlier, I think.”

“Okay then, wait here.”

You nod wordlessly and he goes to pick up your discarded shoes before placing it near your naked feet. He unlocks his phone as he makes his way to the dining hall, dialling a familiar number.

“Jaehyun?” he asks after the third ring. “Can you come earlier for your shift? Something came up.”

When he’s sure someone is going to take over for him, he makes his round in the empty kitchen, grabbing whatever he thinks might be immediately necessary: clean towels, an empty bucket in case of an emergency, and a glass of water.

You’re placid when he returns, eyes puffed out and red as you stare at nothing in particular. He hands you the water and you immediately finish it before he can blink.

You mumble a quick apology as he exchanges the empty glass for the clean towel.

“Don’t worry about it. This will all be billed towards room service.”

You chuckle and throw him back the towel which lands squarely on his face.

“Not funny.”

“I’m dead serious. Look at this damage on my shirt!” he points at the makeup smear accusingly, causing an escalation in your laughter. But the tears return, and you wordlessly wipe them with your palms.

“Come,” he offers his hand for you to take. “You have to eat.”

You stare wordlessly at it for a while, before taking it and pulling yourself to stand. You’re wobbly on your feet, and Jungkook tightens his grip on your hand in an attempt to steady you.

“I can’t go out like this,” you mumble. Jungkook nods in agreement as he wears a playful grin. You nudge his side, brows furrowed and lips forming into a pout. “I know I look like a mess. No need to rub it in.”

“I never said anything,” he chuckles. “Weren’t you the one asking to go out again?”

“I still do. But don’t worry,” you pat the back of his hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to come with.”

“I haven’t noticed Taehyung pass through yet, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jungkook watches your expression morph back into a blank stare. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, after all. His mind scrambles to quickly divulge the topic. “Where do you want to go? I already called my replacement at the front desk—”

“I know this is a bed and breakfast and not a hotel, but you guys have liquor, right?”

You’ve somehow convinced Jungkook to siphon a bottle of whiskey and a few cans of beer from the lodging’s inventory. Though he can quite happily admit that it didn’t take much to get him on board. But he technically can’t be seen drinking and lounging on the job for morale’s sake, so he sneaks in some food along with the alcohol — and you — back to his room. Although Jaehyun did catch you and Jungkook on the way up.

(He promises a wage increase if Jaehyun doesn’t say anything to Jungkook’s older brother. You didn’t have to but since you offered, I’ll take it, the latter said.)

“Apologies for the mess,” he mutters, holding the door with his foot as he welcomes you. He turns on the lamp instead of the main lights since they’re less obtrusive to the eye.

“Are you kidding?” you stumble in, trying not to drop the cans of beer you’re holding. “This place is practically spotless. You have bodies in your closet, don’t you?”

Jungkook laughs as he makes a beeline for the makeshift table sitting between his pseudo-living-room-slash-bedroom and kitchen—

“Wait, you have a kitchen?”

Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re perplexed or amazed. He shrugs nonchalantly either way.

“Perks of being part-owner, I guess?”

He haphazardly throws a blanket and a pillow near the table for you to sit in, but apparently, you have other plans and proceed to make a home for yourself in his bed. You bury your head in the sheets, mumbling, “It smells good.”

“I change the sheets every month,” he boasts rather proudly; all part of his routine.

“I should definitely check that closet.”

“By all means,” he grins, plopping down in front of the table. He’s yet to have dinner, so his intentions to get food and beer had been partly selfish. Jungkook turns to you, now laying on your side, sullen eyes already studying him. He quickly looks away and grabs a spoon before holding it up.

“Food? You’re probably hungry, right? I know I’m always craving, especially after a good cry. Not that I cry often, but doing so from time to time doesn’t hurt either, I suppose. I hope that doesn’t sound too weird—I know there’s this stigma around men and crying but honestly, it’s all such bullshit. We are born into the world crying, it’s literally the first thing we do as humans. Anyway, do you fancy some beef and white rice? I know it’s not much, but...what are you laughing for?”

Jungkook watches you descend into hysteria, clutching your stomach as your giggles turn silent, but your shoulders are still visibly shaking. You heave for air, turning over so your back is face to him.

“If I knew I was this funny, I would have switched careers,” he mumbles, though loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffs his face with rice.

“It’s not too late,” you reply with a sniffle. “You can still change your mind.”

“That’s true, I suppose. Don’t they have that saying that goes ‘a fickle heart is the only constant in this world’ or something?”

Your head whips back towards him, swollen eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you just quote Howl’s Moving Castle?”

His nose scrunches up in deep thought. “Maybe? I did watch it recently.”

“You’re an odd one, Jeon Jungkook,” you muse quietly, eyes mimicking one of the phases of the moon as you grin.

“Says the person who’s soiling my fresh linen with her tears,” he says playfully. But there’s no reply this time around, and he quickly backtracks. “It’s okay to laugh at that one—it was a joke. A very terrible one, apparently.”

“No. You’re quite spot on, actually.”

Jungkook doesn’t speak for a while, unsure whether he should be overstepping the boundary more than he should have. But he looks at your vulnerable state, splayed across his bed, and thinks all formalities are out the window at this point. Despite the previous state of your relationship with him, or otherwise the lack of it, this would probably constitute friendship. Therefore, as a friend, it’s his moral duty to rid you of your throes and woes, even just a little.

“Where did you go, anyway? Must have been fun if you got all shit-faced like this.”

Keeping the tone airy is probably the best way to go as an introduction.

“Just a pub. I didn’t want to go clubbing by myself, it could have been dangerous.”

Jungkook’s forehead creases with worry, and he holds himself back from the question that he’s burning to ask: Then where the hell is Kim Taehyung? He reserves the right to be outright angry because he knows it’s not his place to. He reaches for the can of beer, which hisses in frustration when he opens it.

“You don’t have friends in the city?” he asks, hoping you will not take offence at his question. You shrug.

“I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone after moving away. It felt weird asking someone out of the blue.”

“You could have called me,” he says without much thought.

“I seriously considered it, but…” you trail off, leaving Jungkook to fill the void himself. He doesn’t mind that he probably didn’t cross your mind as a go-to person to call in times of crisis. “I heard you were quite the party pooper in high school, so I had my doubts.”

“Hey!” he protests, but you ignore him and continue. He doesn’t disagree, of course, but being called out is not a fun experience whether it came from a drunk acquaintance or not.

“New in town, straight-A student—but to be fair, quite good-looking and athletic to boot. My god, all my friends had a stupid on crush on you.”

Jungkook’s cheeks grow warm with embarrassment at the deluge of compliments. “Me? With gangly limbs and an awful bowl-cut? Who couldn’t even get a single word out to anybody, especially girls, without stuttering? That Jungkook?”

“You need to give yourself a little more credit than that, Jeon.” You’re facing him once again, both hands tucked neatly beneath your head.

He nods as an acknowledgement but swiftly changes the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? I’m halfway through this already.”

“I’m sure. I think I’ll probably just nap, then go,” you chuckle. Jungkook can only offer you a rueful smile. He doesn’t mind if you’re unwilling to share the whole spiel of what caused you to be miserable enough to drink by yourself. He’s quite well-versed in that area, after all. It doesn’t solve anything, sure, but it’s enough to numb the feeling of being alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t have to guess who the root of it is, though.

He sighs as he turns on the television, before lowering it down to a manageably quiet level where it will not disturb your sleep. He doesn’t have a particular show in mind to watch, but having the mindless static accompany him is more than enough.

“I lied,” you begin after several minutes of silence. “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” he motions for you to move over as he walks closer to the bed. You follow his instruction, and he peels a layer of the bedsheet. Jungkook laughs as you scramble to get under it. “Better now?”

You didn’t answer but instead, lift your head from the sheets before nodding. He’s overcome with a sense of assurance when he sees your peaceful, content expression.

He hasn’t so much as turned his back on you when you call his name out once more.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Just make sure you leave us a five-star rating.”

He grins just as you crack one eye open. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. We need that public approval to keep running,” he watches the corner of your lips twitch in amusement as you settle back comfortably into the futon with a nod.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

“Was I wrong? For feeling wanted, I mean.”

Your question catches him by surprise; suddenly the hardwood floor beneath him begins to feel cold against his feet. Instead of returning to his previous spot, he carefully sits on the edge of the bed as the springs creak from his weight. He pulls both his legs underneath him; he couldn’t quite face you, so he stares at the television, instead.

“I don’t think so. We all crave validation, more so from our partners than anybody else. I think it’s natural. Otherwise, it’s pointless.”

“Pointless,” you echo softly.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t work it out, though. Part of it is communicating your needs to each other.”

Hypocrite, Jungkook says to himself. It’s laughable, the level of bullshit he allows himself to bask in. What’s the point of giving someone else advice, when he can’t even get his shit together?

“You have to be truthful because the other person might not know what you want.”

“I know that,” your voice is shaky when you speak. Jungkook hedges his bet and assumes that you began crying once more; he didn’t need to look back to confirm. “I guess I’m just scared of facing the outcome of the confrontation when it does happen.”

“You don’t want to be abandoned when shit hits the fan,” he says more to himself than you.

“Exactly. I don’t even know when it began. One day I just woke up and,” you pause, and Jungkook hears you sniffle. “And everything felt so unfamiliar. The places—the people I thought I knew. It’s like I dissociated from my body, and I've just been on autopilot ever since.”

You pause, and Jungkook continues for you. “And you thought going along with the flow would fix things, but it feels even more jarring because you’ve lost that sense of familiarity.”

“Yeah, exactly. I thought coming here would somehow magically restore everything, but quite the opposite, actually. I guess running away from it doesn’t solve anything,” you chuckle bitterly. He slowly shifts on the bed to face you.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook feels seen; like someone has found the lock to the door he threw away so long ago. Your words continuously play on a loop in his mind, forcing him to look at the actions he’s been taking. Certainly, he’s not racing away from himself by choosing to move to a different country despite his parents’ protest, is he? What about the fact that he chooses not to tell her, the supposed love of his life, about the fact that he’d felt so deprived that he couldn’t resist the temptation to have sex with someone else? And to top it all off, he doesn’t have the guts to tell her.

Jungkook knows he doesn't deserve the right to sit there and tell you what to do when he doesn’t dare to be honest in his relationship.

When you’ve cried your eyes dry and the evenness of your breathing signifies you’re fast asleep, Jungkook gently moves from his spot on the bed. He grabs the phone that has been idly on top of the table, before heading to the bathroom and closing the door shut. No matter the outcome of the conversation, she deserves the truth.

Jungkook inhales deeply and presses the call button.

You rise before daybreak, and at a glance, Jungkook is nowhere to be found. There’s a painful throb on the side of your head as you sit up, and you ignore it as you untangle yourself from the sheets. With the help of the lights from the television, you find him splayed across the couch not too far from where you stand. He’s still wearing the same clothes he had on a few hours ago, and guilt creeps up quicker than you anticipated it to.

You untuck the blanket you’ve used from his bed before walking towards him, careful not to disturb his slumber.

“I apologize for bothering you,” you mumble as you lay the blanket softly on top of him. You didn’t think to wake him before your departure; you already told him that you were set to leave after a short nap, anyway.

Hurriedly, you exit his room, forgetting that you’re completely barefoot. It’s fine, it’s just a few floors down, anyway.

The short elevator ride gives you little room to prepare for what you’re going to tell Taehyung. You glance at the phone you’ve been keeping on ‘do not disturb’ to find two missed calls from him a few hours prior. You just hope he’s already asleep by the time you get to your room.

You’re relieved when you enter and the lights are turned off. It feels juvenile to be sneaking around as you use your phone’s light to pick up a discarded shirt before stripping away your clothes and hurriedly putting it on.

Taehyung’s body is turned towards the wall as he hugs the pillow tightly against his body. Seeing him tranquil and at peace shifts your mood, as if all the frustration you feel dissipates within an instant. You slide under the covers, careful not to disturb him but he shifts at your presence anyway. He forgoes the pillow, snaking his arms around your waist instead as he inches closer.

“Where have you been?” he murmurs sleepily against your ear.

“Just...here.”

He doesn’t ask further and you don’t elaborate, thinking that he’s fallen back asleep. A part of you is glad for the unadulterated freedom he’s giving you. But there’s a sudden feeling of optimism; perhaps the sensation of loneliness will pass, and that you’re merely being dramatic (for the lack of better term). Once again you’re lulled into complacency. But it’s never a bad thing to just hope for the best, right?

But Taehyung is gone by noon when you finally have the decency to peel yourself off the bed. There’s a simple text from several hours ago that reads: Didn’t want to disturb you. Call me later.

You do exactly that, but it takes you straight to voicemail. Twice. Three times.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, but you try not to read into the situation too much.

“It’s fine, I wanted a day to go around by myself anyway,” you say out loud, uncaring if the walls are the only ones hearing you out. You fall back into the mattress, knowing the eagerness to get ready will not come unless there’s anybody to encourage.

But it seems like you didn’t have to wait for your saving grace for too long because your phone rings and you immediately roll over to reach for it.

Your heart sinks when you read the caller ID, but you grin and answer the call, anyway.

“Hey, Mom.”

She answers back cheerily, before divulging into her familiar list of questions; the usual how are you’s and the have you been eating well’s. When she finally inquires about Taehyung, you answer hesitantly.

“He’s out for work. You know how it is.”

She sighs and you wince, regretting your choice of tone. “Did you argue again?”

“No! That’s not it at all. I’m just—”

“Whatever it is, just be patient with him,” she admonishes. Your grip on the phone tightens. Right, because that very same rhetoric did nothing to salvage your marriage with Dad. It had been one of the reasons why you decided to move away after high school in the first place. Your mother managed to convince you to move in with her, stating that she wanted to make up for being absent most of your youth.

A different country. Foreign places to see, people to meet. The thrill of it all had been enough to convince you to depart the only place you knew your entire life. But part of the reason why you agreed had been because you were growing weary of living with your father’s new family. There was never a sense of belonging that tied you to Seoul despite spending all your life there.

Except for Taehyung.

He followed you five years later, like a fool in love. Then you decided to get married two years after rekindling your relationship. Three years since then, it feels like you’re floating in between two sides of the same coin with him, neither in bliss nor in terror.

“I know,” you chew your bottom lip. Fear is catching fire in your chest, and you smother it quickly so it will not disperse and reach your heart. “I’m trying.”

She switches the topic quicker than you can wipe the tears that manage to fall, and soon enough she’s complaining to you about having to come out for late lunch with her friends. Your answers are short and subdued, just enough to let her know that you’re still there, but your mind is itching to run somewhere else. Before she hangs up, you give her a gentle reminder to check on your apartment. She promises not to forget.

“Have fun, dear! Don’t forget to visit the places I told you about.”

“You act as if I didn’t live here before,” she chuckles at your unintended humour. “But don’t worry, I won’t.”

The line cuts after a short goodbye, and you welcome silence with a long sigh. It seems like there’s a lot on the list for you to finish: get some food to cure your hangover, take a nap, and then another after waking up. The prospect of going out alone is more daunting than it seems, therefore, staying in feels like it’s the best option.

Suddenly, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. You could have called me.

You instinctively reach for the telephone by the bedside table and dial his room number, fresh and vivid in your memory.

It takes half an hour to get to the destination Jungkook suggested. He agreed that you’ll treat him to (a very late afternoon) lunch if he picks the place.

“No way, it’s still here!” you exclaim as soon as you step foot off the cab. Waves of nostalgia come trickling in one by one, then hits you all at once when you open the door. Your senses are overwhelmed with familiar spices as soon as you push the door open. You look back and beam at Jungkook, who’s watching you with a small smile.

It’s only when you’re seated and have ordered that Jungkook clears his throat before saying, “I’m glad you still remember.”

You gawk at him, before crossing your legs firmly beneath you.

“Are you kidding? They have the best bibimbap and tofu stew. I was here almost every night especially during the exam period.”

“I know,” he says with confidence and you eye him with suspicion. “I mean, it was tough not to. You were always so loud around your friends.”

You scoff at him despite you knowing it to be true, but Jungkook takes no offence to it as he grins.

“It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime,” you point at him with your spoon.

“I am having fun with—”

“If you say ‘with you’, I swear to god you’re going to pay for the food instead,” you warn him despite a smile threatening to break from your lips.

“With you,” he emphasizes the phrase almost mockingly. You murmur the word “impossible” under your breath as you feel the tips of your ears grow warm.

Although the comment seems gratuitous at the time of its conception, to Jungkook’s credit you also come to enjoy time spent with him. Perhaps it’s the fact that he stands between novelty and familiarity that you fall into an easy discourse with him; you didn’t have to choose your words too carefully or worry that he might think ill of you based on what you say. There’s no seed of doubt and no root cause of anxiety.

You can’t help but find it odd, nevertheless.

Jungkook, whom you’ve never shared more than two lines before your current interaction with him. You’d never have thought in a million years you’d confide in somebody who used to give you odd stares and unfriendly glares when you passed by him in the halls of your high school. The past you would gawk, confused as to how he manages to coax even the tiniest smile out of you.

You’re about to point out that very fact to Jungkook when your phone rings and you’re immediately reprieved back out of the comfort of his presence.

It’s Taehyung, and you immediately answer.

“Babe, don’t freak out, but I’m currently in Daegu. Crazy! I know, I know. But remember I told you last night about—”

He begins listing names you recall hearing in passing. But it didn’t matter, because you stop paying attention after hearing where his current location is.

“—is why I couldn’t answer your call. But don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, probably.”

You watch Jungkook shift in his seat as he asks you if everything’s all right. You nod instinctively.

“Okay.”

“Cool. I’ll call you again later after we get settled. Love you.”

“Mhm.”

He must have been in a hurry because the call cuts before you could get another word in. Although you didn’t attempt to answer longer than a few sentences in the first place, afraid that the quiver in your voice will reveal the hurt and anger that has slowly been piling up one by one.

Jungkook thinks you’re a dam that’s overfilled and just about ready to burst. He’s afraid because you seem overly happy, obviously overcompensating for the devastation he had seen in your eyes hours prior to your call. He needn’t guess who it had been on the other side. Although he doesn’t know what Taehyung said, it’s enough to send you in a frantic search for your sanity.

This begins with you asking him to go to a karaoke bar with you, before proceeding to order several drinks. It’s on me, Jeon! I owe you lots, you declare before proceeding to down a whole glass of beer in one go.

Within the privacy the four walls of the room bring, you pour your energy into one upbeat song after another, seemingly uncaring of Jungkook’s presence. That is until your umpteenth song ends, and you turn away from the screen dramatically and towards him to hand him the mic.

“Your turn!”

“Great, I thought you’d never ask,” he says sarcastically and you join him on the seat, giggling. He takes the remote and punches in his selected number as a familiar tune comes through the speakers. He looks at you as he begins to sing the lyrics of the verse, and you break out into a small grin.

“I’m trying to realize, it’s alright to not be fine…” he sings softly as your head gently leans on his shoulder. Jungkook lets you.

He does again on the cab ride to the pub for a late dinner. And again on the way home. The weight of your presence against him is most likely inconsequential to the heaviness you carry around with you. That’s why he’ll do his part even though he most likely doesn’t have to; anything to let you know you’re not alone. He just hopes you know.

“Jungkook,” your voice is quiet against his ear as he carries you up the concrete steps.

“Yes?” he adjusts you on his back, careful not to drop you. He’s only slightly inebriated, and he’s hoping there will be no accidents for him or you.

“Thank you.”

“Just leave us a—”

“Five-star rating,” hearing your laughter feels ticklish in his stomach. “I will.”

His older brother greets him with an odd look once he enters the door of the lobby, before asking, “Is this what you skipped work for?”

“I’m only cashing in my days off before a leave,” Jungkook points at the elevator with his chin.

“Yeah, yeah,” his brother says dismissively before pressing the button for Jungkook. Silence passes through them as they wait for the doors to open. “Is she the reason why you changed your mind?”

Jungkook feels the steady rhythm of your pulse against his back, which is kilometres away from his erratic heartbeat. He tries not to put too much thought into it; he did just carry you up several flights of stairs, after all.

The harsh ping of the bell saves him from answering, and the older didn’t press him any further. It’s only after he’s turned the keys to your room, safely placed you on the bed — but not before he falls back onto the spot beside you with a deep sigh — that he has the time to formulate an articulate response.

“I’d like to think I did it out of my own volition. But a lot has happened the last few days, and, well…” he trails off as he turns his body to face you, one hand tucked against his cheek as the other reaches out to comb a stray hair out of your face.

You stir under his touch but he doesn’t make the effort to move away.

“Seems like I owe you again, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper, the words stringing together seemingly in an indecipherable sound. He manages to put the pieces together, nonetheless.

“You’re not under any obligation to repay me,” he grins when you peel your eyes open. “I don’t want to give you all the credit, but you might have saved me more than once.”

“How so?”

The reflection of the city lights chase away the dimness of the room, but they also reflect your eyes in a way that makes Jungkook think you’re holding the galaxy’s secrets within them.

“I was having this, sort of, midlife crisis—”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” you place your elbow against the mattress as you lean your flushed cheeks against your palm. “Saying you’re having a midlife crisis now in your late twenties makes it seem like your life’s going to end in your sixties.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. The pessimist in him urges him to declare, “Who’s to say I won’t?”

“Boo! I hate this story already.”

“Buckle up, because it’s about to get worse,” he smiles wryly.

And Jungkook opens up his fresh wounds and bares his soul without pomp and flowery words. He watches your reaction intently, nonetheless, knowing well enough that by the end of the night, he might get kicked out of the halls. He’ll take the punishment kindly, since she didn’t have the chance to slap him when he could tell, despite the distance, that she would punch him square in the face.

“I know it’s wrong, and I’m not making any excuses for my actions.”

“I feel like I have no place to get angry at you. But strictly speaking, from a rational person’s point of view...fuck you.”

“I deserve no less,” he says, appreciating your candour. “That’s why last night, when you fell asleep, I told her everything. I realized that I had no place to speak of communicating when I’ve been holding out on the truth from her for a while now. You can only imagine how angry she is with me.” He swallows thickly, hating the way his throat constricts uncomfortably. Perhaps he did care about how you’ll view him, after all.

“Are you all right, though?”

The worry engraved in the crease between your brow disarms him; the unexpected delicacy in the way you ask him suddenly brings him into sobriety. After hearing the phrase I don’t want to see you, ever, he hasn’t had the time to process how he feels other than the guilt that continues to plague him. He’d buried heartbreak that comes along after losing somebody so quickly that realizing it now has him terrified of himself.

Has he truly reached the point where he’s incapable of feeling anything?

Or is it that somewhere between then and now, he’s fallen out of love with her and made excuses for himself so that it’s easier to let her hate him because he didn’t have the courage to break it off? Is it because he’s using her as an excuse — his ticket out of Seoul, out of the life he thinks to be mundane? Because if so, then he’s an even bigger scumbag than he originally thought.

“Jungkook?”

The warmth of your hand on his cheek salvages him from sinking into the bottomless depth of his thoughts.

“I can’t believe I strung her along for this long.”

Then it hits him all at once; an unavoidable freight train carrying the emotions he’s repressed himself from bearing. In him blossoms the violent need to abate the heaviness that began festering within the depths of his mind a long time ago.

One sob and you pull him against you. Two and you’re running your hands soothingly down the curves of his back. Three, and he’s clinging onto you for dear life as the uncontrollable cries consume him. He’s overcome by a sense of déjà vu as you wrap your arms tighter against him.

Jungkook lets you.

Again and again, he will selfishly welcome your presence, as if doing so would diminish him of any wrongdoings he has committed.

You drift in and out of consciousness, but the warm body stays unchanged beside you. Another aspect feels indifferent: The pounding headache constantly knocking against your temple. In hindsight, you probably need to stop drinking to the point where your body can’t handle the after-effects. Inhaling slowly puts your mind at ease as the scent of fresh lavender wafts over your senses; you’re immediately reminded of hanging freshly laundered sheets during a hot summer day. Only one person manages to conjure such specific and vivid imagery for you.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your body goes rigid at the feeling of his heavy arm draped across your waist. You slowly open your eyes, hoping that your initial hunch is wrong, and you’re merely dreaming that you let someone who’s neither a stranger nor a friend lay in bed with you.

But you’re met with his peaceful sleeping face, a stark difference between last night’s troubled and despaired Jungkook. For a split second, you let your mind wander with your heart amongst the perilous grounds of your imagination.

If picturing life with him is a sin, then there’s absolutely no saving you from entering the depths of hell.

(A tad bit over-dramatic on your part, but you believe you have the license to do so since you just woke up in the arms of someone else other than Taehyung.)

Despite the slight panic accentuated by the quick palpitations of your heartbeat, you make no genuine effort to move away. Bits of cynicism creeps up, either way, as you berate yourself for clinging onto anybody willing to keep you company.

But at this point, is Jungkook truly just ‘anybody’ to you? In a short period of time, you’ve managed to share more with him than you’ve had with Taehyung. With Jungkook, there’s nobody to compete for attention with.

So, what is holding you back from leaving the anguish behind and instead run straight on towards Jungkook? Is the sanctity of marriage you’ve sworn to uphold after seeing how it tore your own family apart enough of a reason to stay with him?

The answer sits on the tip of your tongue like a ripe fruit ready to burst.

Jungkook shifts his position as he raises one eyelid open before breaking out into a lazy grin. You return the gesture as you peel yourself away from his touch to sit upon the mattress and stretch your limbs wide.

“That was the best sleep I had in a while,” he admits.

“Maybe all you needed was a good cry.”

He gives you a knowing look. “Maybe.”

Silence ensues, and all of a sudden you’re unsure of what to tell him when minutes ago you allowed yourself to stare at him unabated. How exactly are you supposed to express gratification to the person who’s allowed themselves to be the unfortunate passenger to your rollercoaster of emotions? What’s more, is you’d done the same for him. Do you, then, without a need for more words, go back to how it had been previously and pretend nothing had happened?

You didn’t have much time to ponder because your phone vibrates in the back pocket of your jeans.

“What do you mean by ‘we need to talk’?”

“Good morning to you too, Taehyung,” you mumble. Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, as if in sudden realization of something he’d forgotten. He moves off the bed and motions for the bathroom. You nod wordlessly. It almost slipped your mind that you sent him a somewhat vague text the night previous after Jungkook’s spiel. “It means exactly what it says. We need to talk when you get back. You are coming back, right?”

“What’s with the sudden hostility in your tone? Of course, I’m coming back.”

“I think I deserve to be a little hostile,” a sudden wave of bravery washes over you. “How exactly am I supposed to feel after you leave me without warning on our trip?”

“I told you—”

“Stop fucking lying to me, Kim Taehyung,” your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “You never talk about anything with me anymore, and you know it.” There’s a certain pride you feel when he doesn’t respond right away. “I can’t talk to you about this on the phone. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Jungkook returns well after you’ve ended the call with Taehyung.

“I should probably get back to my room and change. I need to take over for my brother.”

You follow him towards the door, where he haphazardly puts on his shoes. When he stands, he gazes at you, eyes filled with tenderness. Your heart stutters. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course,” you offer him an encouraging smile, but he doesn’t return it. With one nod he’s out the door, and you watch as his figure retreats towards the elevator without so much as a wave, not knowing that would be the last you see of him for a while.

Taehyung’s arrival comes earlier than expected and catches you after your long shower, but says nothing to quell your worries. He merely sits on the bed and watches you pace around the room; for a comb one minute, then you put on lotion next, then you’re folding clothes to be laundered — anything to busy yourself from confrontation. It’s not that your courage has wavered, but rather your dignity prevents you from breaking first.

Yet as soon as your name rolls off his tongue, there’s a magnetic pull that has your feet nimbly walking to where he is.

“I’m sorry,” is all it takes from him for you to unravel completely. There’s no shortage of fresh, hot tears as he engulfs you against him. You bring your palms up to grab on his shirt tightly, before hitting his chest with no real intentions of hurting him. He doesn’t stop you but instead pulls back to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your arms fall nimbly to the side and Taehyung continues to mutter apologies one after the other, catching each teardrop before they reach the bottom of your ruddy cheeks.

He waits until you’ve stopped sobbing before you begin diving into a conversation that’s been long overdue. Slowly, the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crumble brick by brick as the imperfections of your relationship reveal itself on the surface. It’s uncomfortable for him as much as it is for you to dredge up old wounds, evident by the way his eyes well up with tears, but it’s an intervention needed to regain what was, if possible.

Both you and Taehyung know one conversation is not enough to undo the fractures, but it’s a step closer towards salvation.

The end of your trip creeps up closer than you’d like. You stopped tagging along with Taehyung’s workdays because he agreed to go places with you. Days without him are spent milling around the neighbouring places of the bed and breakfast, which leads to your discovery of the best spicy rice cake just around the corner of the street. There is also the obligatory bike ride alone around the Han river, which proves to be more satisfactory than almost anything you’ve ever done.

You find yourself looking for Jungkook in-between the hours where your mind wanders and for a split second, all of your thoughts are suddenly dedicated to him. Deception comes in the form of denial when you push the aimless sentiments aside, afraid that you might get too carried away. It’s maddening to think that he only seems to show up in times of dire need as if the deity responsible for overlooking fate is playing tricks on you.

(Though you know that if you want to see him, the only thing you have to do is knock on his door. You dismiss that idea, either way, for fear of being too obtrusive.)

On the day of your departure, you wake up early to catch breakfast. You ask Taehyung if he wants to join you despite knowing the answer. He grunts in response but stays unmoving. You untangle yourself from the warmth of his body before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Food has been prepared once you’re in the dining area, but there’s nobody to be found. It immediately reminds you of the first morning of your arrival—the excited faces of the children and their parents who were engrossed in a serious conversation, and the elderly couple enjoying their morning of peace together. Two weeks have gone by, and you’re not even sure if they’re still here or if they’ve moved on to see other places, meet other people.

Inadvertently, you steal a glimpse of the kitchen door, waiting for it to swing open and reveal the one person whose smile you’ve been longing to witness one last time. You grin as you shake your head; your propensity towards wishful thinking never ceases to make you feel disheartened.

“Last time you were staring longingly at your soup, and today you’re smiling to yourself,” his voice cuts through your thoughts intrusively as he strolls in, dressed down in a pair of casual joggers and an ill-fitting shirt too big to possibly belong to him. “Hi.”

Your gaze meets his, and breathlessly, you say, “Hi.”

He doesn’t make any gesture that indicates he wants to sit and chat this time around.

“Been busy?”

“I could say the same about you,” your lips curl upwards in a small smile. There’s a landslide of things you want to ask him, topics you want to share. You want to thank him over and over, invite him for a meal or even a simple walk around town. But words seem to fail you as you shift your eyes to stare at your half-eaten plate of fruit slices.

“My older brother mentioned you’re leaving today,” he announces offhandedly, scratching the nape of his neck. You’d like to think he’s just as unsure as you on how to go about having a conversation. Is he also stumbling over his thoughts like you are?

“Uh, yeah—” you flick your wristwatch to check the time— “I just have to wake Taeyhung, and we’ll be on our way.” The rueful smile he gives you feels like a splinter prodding your heart. “You?”

“Oh, I was just on my way to grab something before heading to the gym.”

“Ah,” you nod. Unlike the last time you two shared a conversation in the same place, this one is marred by awkward pauses and long bouts of silence. Afraid this will cause him to leave, you promptly state, “I honestly thought you ended up leaving the country since I didn’t see much of you.”

“That was the plan, yes,” his smile finally reaches his eyes. “I was supposed to leave a week ago— I mean, I had already bought the tickets and despite how it ended with me and her, I still wanted to leave. But someone told me just because you try to run from your problems doesn’t mean it will not follow you there.”

You chuckle as you shake your head. He continues. “I feel like I owe it to her to grant her wishes of not wanting to see me, no matter how much I wanted to get out of this place. A lot of reasons compelled me to stay, and I think I’m better for it.”

When your gaze meets his, there’s an unstated agreement; a kinship that cannot be unbound, locked away in a time you can only revisit through your memory.

“With that being said, I might tour Europe in two months’ time, starting with Sweden,” he grins playfully, cheeks dotted with a dimple. You roll your eyes as you stand before shoving him lightly by the shoulder.

“Alright, Richie Rich, no need to rub it in. I get it, I get it.”

“You have me mistaken, Miss. This was a culmination of years of hard work and savings.”

“I’m happy for you,” you say with finality. No matter how much you did not want the conversation to end, there’s a twinge of sweetness to a farewell amidst the bleakness that often comes along; it doesn’t always have to end in thunder and rainfall.

But then he asks, “Are you happy for you?”

It might have been then, at that moment, where you’d willingly say blurt the phrase out loud, your situation be damned. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. Not when you nod wordlessly. Not when he opens his arms seemingly as a conclusion, a wordless action that says: I should probably let you go so I can also go about with my day. Instead, you carefully place the three words in your back pocket to be used later before you step into the warmth of his embrace.

He whispers a farewell and a promise that you know you’ll carry in your heart until the time fate allows you to meet again at another time and another place.

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