#i could make a synopsis of the au if anyone cares. or just answer any questions hehe

[bisexualriza]

riza the vampire hunter and her vampire girlfriend

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[sugruzt]

❝ castaways ; 명재현

𖥻 pairing: loser!myung jaehyung x female reader

𖥻 contains: rockstar!au, childhood best friends to lovers

𖥻 warnings: inspired by 5sos "try hard" + "heartbreak girl" / english is not my first language so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings, and i also forgot to proofread so i'm sorry in advance everyone

word count — 2.4k

synopsis — you and jaehyun had been friends ever since you could remember, supporting and caring for each other. but little did you know that the boy you saw as the personification of a soulmate found in a friendship, saw you as the most perfect muse for all the songs he had ever written. you didn't know it yet, but jaehyun was doing his absolute best to make you see his true feelings.

🎀

IT was no secret that looking back to your whole life, you’d lived more years being friends with jaehyun than not. it was natural — for the both of you — to share memories, habits, tastes, experiences, or whatever it was with the other; more natural even than doing so with your families. myung had always been there for you and you had always been there for him. always.

however, for a little over two years now, the two of you have not been able to see each other as often as you used to in the past. between you getting into university and him chasing his dream in the music industry, the necessary sacrifices took more from your individual lives than your teenage fantasies could’ve ever predicted when you were in high school.

the weather that afternoon was warmer than the usual autumn days and you couldn’t help but smile thinking that perhaps even nature knew that two halves of the same soul were about to meet again for the first time in eight months or so and was happy that this encounter was going to take place. there was a light breeze running through the city, refreshing the anticipation inside of you and making your hair dance with movements worthy of the highest class of ballet as you opened the heavy dark-wood door before you.

your eyes wandered around the ambience, looking for those large round dark of his you could recognize anywhere, no matter how much time had passed. “sometimes i swear i can see stars reflecting on your eyes, hyun”, you said one time when you were younger right after your first ever heartbreak and your best friend came to your rescue on the parking lot where your former boyfriend left you; jaehyun picked up the tiny broken pieces of your crushed heart only to somehow find a way to glue them back together until you found the strength to heal by yourself, and the musician never asked for anything in return, because that was who he was in the end. it didn’t take long before you smiled from ear to ear at the sight of him.

“hi, jae!” the excitement in your voice was noticeable to anyone close to the table at the almost empty café you were supposed to meet. “you look different. what did you do?”

the boy, at least you thought it was still the same boy you’ve known since childhood, let out a faint laugh as he hugged you tightly against his body, a good amount of centimetres taller than yours. just like he always used to do, jaehyun cupped your face with his right hand — the soft hand, the only one that should touch you, in his mind — and caressed it before messing up your hair while laughing a little more. “you noticed, didn’t ya?”

before you could answer anything properly, your attention was immediately drawn not only to the edge of the brunette’s lips but also to his left ear, and a confused frown took over your face. “is that a lip ring? and you got an industrial! jaehyun, you cut your hair!”

“but do you like it?” he asked raising his eyebrows in a split second before focusing on the menu. the music lover didn’t have the courage to say the real reasons as to why he did all that, at least not at that moment, but the biggest parts of his heart were praying that you enjoyed the modifications to his appearance like his heart was telling him you would, simply because his heart knew you better than his conscious mind did.

“i mean, yeah i do… it makes you look even more of a rockstar now, hyun, you don’t look like the good mama’s boy you always looked like.” with a chuckle, you decided to copy his moves, and turn your gaze back to the menu, even though you already knew what you’d order anyways.

jaehyun opened a smirk but that kind of good humor didn’t reach his dark eyes. he was twenty years old, over fifteen years had passed since the first day he ever saw you before him and the agony of suppressing the deep and unique feelings the musician had towards his best friend had been eating him alive for the majority of those fifteen years; living twenty-four months without having you as close to him as before was the trigger to make the myung open his eyes to the reality he tried to ignore so badly. all he ever wanted was for you to actually pay attention to the lyrics he wrote, to understand that everything you needed to have your heart in a safe and respectful place was to give it to him; ever since he was fourteen years old, jaehyun’s birthday wish when blowing the candles was always the same: for you to love him the same way he loved you. despite the depth and complexity of his feelings, the singer decided to keep it cool for a little longer; the last thing he wanted at that moment was to unconsciously push you away by bombarding you with all the words bottled up inside his heart since the very first day.

“so how’s school?” he asked once the waiter left you two alone after taking your orders. genuine concern and interest filled every word that came out of your best friend’s mouth, as there was no scenario in this world where jaehyun wouldn’t be worried about you.

you shrugged, looking away. “could be better, to be honest. the classes this last semester were three times harder than the previous one… it caught me off-guard.”

the kind-eyed man offered comfort with his speech, which warmed your heart a little bit more: no matter how much time passed or how much jaehyun changed his appearance, he was still the clumsy kid you met at kindergarten and defended from the other mean boys. in an attempt to take your mind off the stress that tool such a heavy tool on you, he playfully asked if at least there was anyone interesting in that fancy university you got yourself into — even though there was also shy and scared anticipation of his part towards your answer, as the thought of you, his muse, his best friend, his soulmate, being in love with someone who didn’t know you nearly as well as he did or that was willing to go the extra mile for you like he was, made his heart sink. even more so when you nodded.

“i mean, yeah… but it’s not going well. at least not like it used to. i haven’t talked to him in over a week or so, since we had this major argument and i needed to catch a break from that behaviour.”

myung watched uneasily when you played with your fingers, trying to escape his gaze. “why didn’t you tell me that, dove?”

“i didn’t want to trouble you with my petty problems, jaehyun. you need to focus on the band and making it out of here.”

when finally your eyes met his dark ones, the musician felt his blood freeze for a second. there was something different in the way you were looking at him, something he wasn’t used to suddenly was making those marvellous eyes of yours look a thousand times more special than normal. myung jaehyun couldn’t tell right there and then — because he was petrified by his own tornado of thoughts and feelings — but your cheeks were burning with a pink shade of embarrassment, only it was because you didn’t really know what to say or do as this was the first time you met your best friend after admitting to yourself that those feelings of care and affection towards him were due to something a lot stronger than just friendship.

“c’mon, y/n… you could never trouble me, dove.” jaehyun chuckled and took your hands between his with such gentleness that your heart began to race faster than any race car. “i’m here for you, okay?”

the following couple of hours went flying by like those leaves in the wind outside the café. your mind was blank and your thoughts, numb, as you tried as hard as you could to not let it show just how confused you were with everything taking over your judgement towards that friendship. you were scared to ruin it and you were terrified of the idea of not having jaehyun around anymore because of something dumb or did or said; but at the same time, much like him although you didn’t know it, your heart ached just from imagining what it would be like if you jumped off that cliff and confessed your feelings.

before you even realised it, the both of you were outside. the hot coffee from before didn’t really do much to keep you from feeling a shiver down your spine as a stronger breeze hit you colder than the ones from before; instead, jaehyun’s embrace felt like a personal fireplace. you couldn’t help but smile with that comparison, but even more so when he asked if would like to see what the studio looked like — with such invitation, the myung hoped it would create a nice setting for him to show you the newest song he wrote. if destiny decided that was the last melody jaehyun were to play to you, then he would do so with an undying smile.

the place was a little dark: deeper shades of brown and grey all around the walls and furniture but the acoustic panels were black and the only form of lighting came either from the computer screens and mixing consoles or from the few led lights on the ceiling above you. it smelled like cigarettes and scented candles in there, but you were too mesmerized by the fact of being in a recording studio for the first time in your life to pay attention to such details. as for jaehyun, he thought the studio was too small, too simple for you to be this enchanted by it, but your excitement brought joy to his heart and it felt like this was heaven for him; you with him in the one place he worked so hard to make his dream come true was what life should be like. this felt natural, and he only prayed that after that night, it would truly be like that forever.

“do you like it, dove?” the brunette asked, biting his lower lip while playing with his ear piercings.

“it’s so cool, hyun! look at all this stuff! what does this button do?” with sparkling eyes, you sat by the mixing consoles and bombarded your friend with a thousand questions per second. laughing, he only shrugged and rested his weight on the headrest above you.

“i don’t really know. taesan knows more about this than i do, i just stick with the guitar.” liar. jaehyun loved to produce as well, but he didn’t want to sound cocky to you so he decided to hold his tongue.

before the boy could say anything to keep you from pressing any buttons you didn’t know what they were for, your finger gently hit one of those and it triggered a recording from the night before. jaehyun had forgotten about it, but before leaving the studio, he didn’t delete the recording of him playing the acoustic guitar and singing the first song he had ever written about you; as the words came out on the speakers, the shame and fear paralyzed him so badly the guitarist couldn’t even stop it from playing anymore. his eyes were closed shut and he didn’t see how a smile took over your lips, that grew with every note because your mind was interpreting the lyrics and you understood what the song was about.

butterflies started a rampage on your stomach and your hands covered your face out of shyness, but the reality was that you felt like the teen version of yourself all over again in a matter of minutes.

“it’s beautiful, jae” you whispered by the time the song ended and you tried as hard as you could not to cry. “tell me about it”

those big, brown eyes you knew like the palm of your hand now stared at you with a feeling you had never seen before. you could feel every breath that escaped your lungs, every beat of your heart pounding against your chest, and every droplet of sweat that ran down your temples like a mustang crossing the grasslands. the entire universe had stopped for that brief moment to watch what would become of these two best friends who were exhausted of hiding their true feelings for one another; with jaehyun’s eyes tracing every little inch of your angel-like face, the repeating recording in the background was nothing compared to the symphony of two unaware hearts colliding into each other. how could you know he felt this way? how come jaehyun never did anything to show you the love prints engraved inside his heart god knew how long? worse than that: why didn’t you see your own feelings before?

“i can’t… i’ve waited too long to say this and now i can’t. i can’t say it with you looking at me like that, dove.” he whispered back and with a trembling hand, touched your face with just his thumb, scared that the roughness on the skin of his hand could scar a perfect face like yours. tears were forming in his eyes as the frustration of being incapable of confessing everything to the love of his life consumed jaehyun on the inside.

“then i’ll say it first: i love you, myung jaehyun.”

caressing his puffy red cheeks, the loving words slipped out of your mouth with such ease it scared you for a quick moment but as you repeated them back to him like a mantra, bringing his face closer to yours every time you did, the weight that had been destroying your shoulders and crushing your heart for the past year was finally gone and all you could think of was how gentle of a soul the boy you fell in love with had.

“i’ve loved you since the very first day, dove… i’ve waited fifteen years to be honoured with the privilege of being the one holding your heart. i swear i won’t ever drop it. your heart is safe with me, your love is safe with me.”

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 24.7k+

warning | car crash / mention of injuries / not edited since the first time i posted this story ​

parts | one, two, three

Minho waited anxiously at the table. His fingers tapping rhythmically against the thick table cloth, which was long enough to drape over his shaking knees. His eyes glanced from one side of the restaurant to the other, not so much making observations as his mind was occupied with thoughts of his own. 

He did not get a lick of sleep yesterday night. He stayed up staring at the dim ceiling, recalling everything you told him and reevaluating all his decisions for his marriage. And he has come to an understanding that your sudden awakening was nothing short of a blessing to him. It was a route to guide him to a happier marriage, considering you had not been yearning for the divorce papers when you two saw each other during breakfast this morning.

But despite that, Minho knew he has to be careful with every step he takes onward from this point. Just because you haven’t been actively asking to be divorced did not mean your heart would be set on him and that you would be sitting quietly and waiting for him to be better. The ring sitting in his pocket was kept as a reminder that someone else could very well snatch you away from him any second.

He scowled at the thought, especially when Changbin posed as the greatest enemy at the moment. He reevaluated this jealousy to be a sign of possession rather than love. To be fair, he didn’t think he was ever in love with you. He cared about you, an extension of his responsibilities in this arranged marriage. But he was never in love with you. Not like you were with him. You’ve snapped away from that now. He has never been in love with anyone else either. Perhaps the biggest reason why he was willing to work through this was that he knew nobody else would catch his interest. Nobody has. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he jumped at the intrusion. Pulling it out, he didn’t bother to look at the caller before he accepted the call and greeted with a hushed, annoyed tone.

“Stop frowning, Minho. Your face will get stuck like that.”

Minho perked up at your voice. He did another scan around the restaurant and his frown only deepened when he could not find you anywhere. You giggled on the other end, your surprised voice coming through rather staticky as you spoke, “I said don’t frown and you go ahead and frown even more!”

He relaxed into himself upon your careless laughter. Scoffing out a short laugh, he spoke, “Tell me a joke then I might just laugh.”

“A joke? Okay.” You rolled your eyes. “You know who invited me to lunch today? You.”

The joke did not receive the reaction you were hoping for. What you expected would be a sardonic smile turned out to be a remorseful grimace and a flash of guilt before those pretty eyes of his. You gasped out in shock, your eyes widening as you immediately moved out of your hiding spot and approached the table he sat at.

“I’m sorry. I genuinely thought that would be funny,” you said as your feet tapped their way across the marble floor. When you were finally of reach, you hung up the phone and sat across from him. Perking up, you gave him a brief nod before quickly diving into the real deal. “Wait, give me another chance. I have something really funny to say.”

Minho didn’t speak. He nodded at you and sat there waiting for a joke to be delivered to him patiently.

“Okay, why do cows have hooves instead of feet?”

Minho blinked at you and tilted his head. “Because they lactose.”

He wasn’t supposed to get that. You assumed that he would give you a legitimate answer, something knowledgeable and scientific. Then you would jokingly scold him for not having a sense of humor before you tell him the punchline, and then he would laugh and you could regain your throne as the God of Humor.

You pursed your lips as you stared him down, then you pressed your lips into a scowl. “You weren’t supposed to tell me the punchline.”

“Then why did you ask me?”

“I gotta start the joke somehow!” you retorted.

Minho allowed himself to find your frustration more endearing than unfair, but still, he suppressed a burst of laughter from bubbling up his throat when you started to throw that mini tantrum of yours.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” he laughed as he reached to the middle of the table and pushed the small basket of bread towards you. “Here, eat some breadsticks.”

Your eyes trailed down to the basket and they widened in excitement. You jumped slightly in your seat, almost pouncing over to get the bread the was only a few inches away from you. “Oh wow, these are one of those places that serve bread before the appetizers, huh?” you commented as you picked the bread that was fresh out of the oven and coated with the right amount of salt, then you carelessly popped it in your mouth.

Minho nodded, slightly confused at your choice of wording. “Yeah. This is your favorite restaurant, shouldn’t you know?”

Choking on your saliva, you continued to chew on the bread but you covered your mouth to hide the shock that you unexpectedly showed to him. Oh, you really have to be a little more careful with your words. You have almost forgotten that this wasn’t your life, and it would be a pain for anyone to be suspicious of your identity.

“I know, I just was stating the obvious.” You shrugged as a slow smile appeared on your face.

Come to think of it, you knew nothing about Minho. All the memories you have of him were horrible, and they were all new and fresh. None of which you could use to strengthen the idea that you were the real ‘you’ and not somebody who just infiltrated into a stranger’s body. You have been so focused on people problems that you forgot the important goal of gaining relevant information for future references.

“So!” You cleared your throat, clearing your head and settling the brand new goal down in the middle of your head. This would be the perfect time to discreetly learn more about Minho; you just have to be careful with what you say. “How was work this morning?”

Minho did not seem fully convinced about your sudden gentle outburst. You’ve asked him about work before and stopped when he made it clear that it wasn’t your business. This was relatively new, but you acting weird was not a topic he wished to proceed with for the remaining lunch, therefore he didn’t press on and simply flashed you a knowing nod and a reply. “It was fine. The same routine, just different days.”

Well, not only did you have to be careful, you needed to be a little smart with your words too. That answer gave you zero new information.

Smacking your lips obnoxiously, you grabbed the menu that has been sitting on the edge of the table and opened it. Glancing carelessly at the dishes, once again grimacing at the fact that there weren’t any price tag printed on the papers, you asked with a casual tone, “That’s cool. What did you do?”

Minho looked away, thinking. “I just had a meeting with my dad this morning and listened to the departments pitch their new ideas.”

“I think I’ll get the pasta.” You slammed the menu shut upon his vague answer. Putting it down on the table, you folded your hands on the table and glared pointedly at him with a smile that caught Minho off guard. It felt calculating, which was true to its nature. “What kind of ideas?”

“Oh, just the usual things–why do you suddenly want to know?” He furrowed his brows as he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You have never asked me about work.”

“I have never? I remember I have before.” You feigned a gasp while you mentally took a note down to not ask him too much about work problems. It wasn’t like you particularly cared about it anyway.

“No, not in detail.” He shook his head, an innocent pout evident on his face. As you hummed thoughtfully, he conveniently added, “I don’t… umm, I don’t hate that you are asking though. Just thought I can tell you.”

His head was turned to the side when he spoke. His face scrunched up and his muscles hardened to express how foreign and uncomfortable it was for him to express his feeling so openly like that. You almost wanted to coo at how adorable he was acting; he was one cheek blush away from being the perfect tsundere.

But, more importantly, you could tell he was trying. Starting from him asking you to have lunch with him this morning, with a surprisingly timid voice and jumpy gaze, to this exact moment. You hadn’t expected him to change—or at least attempt to change—this quickly. All it took was one speech from you! Regardless, you appreciated the effort. With caution tipped only to the side, you chose to give him a generous chance at redemption.

"I am glad that you enjoy my curiosity, and thank you for telling me your truest desire.” You dipped your head playfully and smiled.

Minho mirrored the expression on your face. His head turning to you slowly after seeing that fond smile of yours. He couldn’t pinpoint whether the quirk of your lips was made for him or simply just a part of your response, but he was going to take any positivity he could get out of you.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes grazing past the tablecloth nervously as his mind jittered at what he was about to say. He cleared his throat, pressing his lips together to keep the smile away for a moment before he asked, “So, uh, I am going to be home for dinner today.”

“Hmm, great! Let’s eat together then,” you said with excited eyes, your smile never fading. Then, with a sudden scrunch of your brows, you told him, “I’ll see what I can do about that. You don’t have to get anything.”

“O–oh, yeah, no problem.” Minho nodded, then he added, “Are you going to cook?”

You hummed thoughtfully. You haven’t gotten the time to cook in a while. Back when you were still on your Earth, while knowing how to make food, you lacked sufficient time or energy to actually cook anything, so most days there were only choices of instant noodles or takeout food. You were afraid your skills might be off the scale now.

“I don’t know yet,” you replied, squinting your eyes at him teasingly. “Do you want me to cook you something?”

He held up his hands awkwardly at the sudden attention, a scoff leaving his lips and a flustered blush creeping up his cheeks. You breathed out quietly at his out-of-character reaction. It was either he just suddenly changed overnight or he has been hiding this side of him professionally well for the past few days. Both of these could be possible in a drama, which you still believed was what you got stuck in.

“I didn’t even know you can cook until recently. How can I want to try your food?” Minho said defensively. He let his hands down and snorted with an eye-roll. “I bet it’s garbage anyway.”

Ah. There was the Lee Minho you knew of. You smiled, realizing how atrocious it was to be talking as if you have crossed the mountains and the seas with him when you have only known him for days.

“Hey, my food can be many things. Too sweet, too salty, whatever,” you pointed at him, slightly offended even though he might not be wrong, “but they are not garbage.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never tried it.” He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile made its way to your face. This was a ploy—he was discreetly asking for you to make dinner tonight without sounding like he wanted it. Or maybe your assumption was wrong but you would very much like to shower yourself with some attention right now.

“Fine! We’ll see after tonight, Minho,” you said.

“I’ll be anticipating,” he retorted with an arch of his brow, a grin slowly making its way to his way when he saw the childish pout you showed him.

Wasn’t that great? Minho wondered why it took him so long to do this, to just have a normal conversation with you. He really was a spoiled brat. His delusional mind always thought you would love him unconditionally, even without the reciprocation. He was glad to be corrected. He would have continued to be on his snobby path if you hadn’t snapped at him and took the ring off.

You noticed the sudden change of expression on Minho’s face as he stared down at the table. It was guilt-ridden. Twisting your pinky finger, you decided not to say anything and just let him think in peace.

“Okay, hear me out–hey, Minho! Hear me out!” You held back a short laugh when you saw the disappointed look on his face. Gesturing towards the takeout bags on the tea table, you got up from the couch and shook your hands to get his attention.

“I thought you said something about cooking dinner tonight,” Minho muttered under his breath as he placed his bag down on the dining table, then he slowly made his way closer to the couch area so he could stand there gazing down at you with a semi-irritated but ultimately humorous glance. “Whatever happened to that.”

“Well, that’s why I said hear me out, big guy,” you retorted. Once again gesturing towards the takeout bags, you licked your lower lip and explained, “I was planning on cooking dinner but I figured why not have some pizza instead? You’ve never had takeout pizza before, have you?”

Minho furrowed his brows at you in confusion. The things you say kept getting weirder and weirder lately. He was probably a pinch away from getting you to see a psychiatrist. “I have eaten takeout pizza before with my friend.” He shrugged, his eyes darting away as if to recall the memory. “Yeah, during college.”

You hummed, but your grimace disagreed with him. He could have eaten takeout pizza before. But you were almost a hundred percent sure it was one of those extravagant, over-priced, too little cheese and not enough bread kind of pizza. You did not head outside to get one of those; not only were you unaware of any expensive pizza restaurants, you also weren’t interested in having any kind of pizza that wouldn’t grease up your stomach so bad it makes you spend a full day on a toilet. 

What you did, instead, was ask the driver to drive you out to the streets so you could get the kind of pizza you usually get. The oily garbage kind. The kind you eat in front of a television that you couldn’t hear because everyone was talking too loud. The kind that leaves stains on your couch because nobody bothers to use a napkin anymore.

“Trust me, it is not the type you are used to eating.” You beckoned him over to sit next to you on the couch. Reaching over to take out the oily paper boxes and setting them on the tea table, you glanced over to see Minho staring at you unsurely. You sighed, “Sit down, Minho. It’s pizza, not poison.”

“Looks like it to me,” he reluctantly replied, but following your directions, he took off his blazer and neatly folded it over the edge of the couch then he found the spot next to you. His eyes followed as you laid all the food across the table, popped open the cola can, and grabbed the television remote before jumping back onto the couch comfortably.

“It might be poison, but it’s the good kind of poison.” Your eyes fixated on the switching programs, you took a bite out of the big chunk of fries you grabbed with your fist. Though chewing your food, your eyes widened when the drama you wanted to watch finally flipped on, and you carelessly dropped the remote to the side before pointing at the screen. “Oh! Here we go, I have been waiting for this!”

“For what?” Minho followed your gaze and furrowed his brows at the screen. He could recognize the celebrities acting in the show but he had no idea what kind of show it was.

“You’ve never watched it, I figured. Don’t worry, I got the briefing speech down this afternoon.” You reached over to cut out a piece of pizza before pulling out and cutting the stretching cheese. Sitting back on the couch, you propped a leg up and leaned your hot pizza against it. Your eyes were careful on the screen as you waited for each character to appear. “All you need to know is that the suit guy likes the short-haired girl. The girl in the green dress likes the suit guy. Jumper boy is short hair girl’s best friend. You can figure out the rest.”

After explaining, you snorted out a giggle. That plot certainly sounded familiar. It was great to know that the drama within a drama would also be cliché like that.

“I think she is about to get slapped but the guy is gonna come save her. Watch them cut to the hand around the wrist,” you said before taking a big bite of the pizza, your eyes anticipating the plot unfolding in the screen. Sparing a glance towards Minho, you frowned at the way he just awkwardly sat on his spot, eyes glazing past the food on the table with a slight look of distaste.

“Try something. They’re good,” you urged, putting your foot down on the floor and dropping your half-finished pizza on the empty side of the box. You took the liberty of cutting a small piece out, making the round shape uneven but it was for a good cause. Scooting closer to Minho, you moved the food towards his face with a teasing smile. “Come on. It’s good. It’s pizza.”

“That’s fine,” he said, then he pressed his mouth shut and shook his head to refuse the suggestion.

You sighed in faint annoyance. How could this be it? You were supposed to go through the classic montage of teaching the rich boy all about the wondrous world of poor people traditions, starting from deliciously poisonous food, of course. And you two shall bond immensely during the one-minute montage and ultimately, he shall fall head over heels for you.

Not that you particularly care much for whether he falls in love with you. It’s whatever.

“Minho, don’t make me tackle you and force this down your throat.” Your gaze sharpened as you lowered your hands to reveal your face. “Just one small bite. I’ll even play airplane for you if you want.”

“There is no need for that,” he said. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ugh, big words, over a conversation about pizza.” You rolled your eyes. “Just try it. One small bite. If you don’t like it then I’ll finish everything here by myself.”

Minho side-eyed all the food on the table and he snickered, “That’s a lot of grease. You’re gonna get a tummy ache.”

“You underestimate my digestive ability.” You clicked your tongue and glared at him. “Look at you! You got me over here talking about bowel movements!”

“I didn’t force you to say anything regarding that matter.” He shrugged.

Then your mind simply decided it was enough talking for him. He needed something to chew on, and that would be the garbage food you were holding in your hand. Minho seemed to sense the burst of devilish instinct through your arched brows, and he quickly moved back against the couch just as you grinned and crawled on top of his body. You paid zero minds to the position you put yourself in while Minho tried not to think too much about your legs straddling his abdomen as he forced himself to keep his eyes up at your face. You rolled the pizza up as you would fold a piece of bread, curling it into a sandwich-like figure before poking it to Minho’s mouth.

“Come on, Minho, I can’t beg you for too long. This one-minute montage has lasted about a page now,” you whined, shimmering yourself closer to his body by moving your thighs.

The unnoticed friction below forced Minho to open his mouth for a surprised gasp. His eyes widened to stare at you while a heated blush crept onto his cheeks. You took the chance to shove the roll of pizza into his mouth, and all Minho could do was chew on the food. His brows arched as seconds passed, tasing the cheesy food on his tongue and chewing the far too rigid bread.

His hands have found their place at your hips now as he concentrated on the paradoxical food in his mouth, his previous panic mode coming to a halt suddenly. It was bad, he could point out exactly why it was bad too but he liked it somehow. Inhaling a sharp breath, his eyes trailed towards you and he nodded. “I like it.”

A grin broke out then and you clasped your hands together in pure joy. “See? I told you you would like it!”

Minho tried not to smile too much due to the food in his mouth, but you could see his eyes arch into a moon shape and it was enough compensation for the lack of smiley lips. After that, it was just quiet. The only sound being made was from the television; it sounded like the second female lead was crying once again as she desperately spilled out her confession.  

You turned your head over to focus on the screen, your brows slightly furrowed and a grimace appearing once you saw how heartbroken the female lead was. Your expression was not out of sympathy, it was annoyance at the fact that she never stops crying.

While you were watching the people on the screen, Minho was watching you.

Your hands have fallen to his chest, unbeknownst to you. Your fingertips pressing against the fabric of his button-up shirt; just a thin wall until they reach the surface of his warm skin. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, no ill intentions provided, it was just the force of daydream.

“Ugh, seriously?” you muttered under your breath as your face scrunched up in dismay. “Do you see this shit, Minho? He just kissed her. Disgusting!”

You turned to look at him, catching his gaze immediately. Confusion faded quickly and your belly tightened when it hit you that Minho has been staring at you for the entirety of this moment. Not to mention the rather intimate position you two were seated in. Clenching your fist tightly, you gasped out and quickly prepared to back off his torso.

“Wait–hold on, I have something to ask!” Minho tightened his grip on your hips, his voice urgent.

“What–what? Yeah?” you breathed out.

Minho’s lips started to quiver, a sign of nervousness you could tell. His eyes moved away from you to the television and back to you again. He cleared his throat a few times, his fingers still gently fixing at the hem of your shirt, unknowingly making your heart pump furiously at the tingly sensation.

“I… uh, basically I want to ask… “ he started, “It’s just… if you are okay with it, of course, I would like you to… um, sleep with me?”

You blinked down at him, rubbing the back of your finger near your cupid’s bow as you sniffed. That was an unexpected question but you came prepared for it. While you knew things have changed drastically starting this morning, all the courtesy to the event last night, you didn’t want things to happen too quick and easy for him. Heading back to sleep on the same bed with him, an act that fosters closeness, you were not willing to just hand it to him yet.

Damn. You selfishly smiled to yourself. This is what it feels like to be chased.

“Thank you for the offer, Minho, but… no,” you replied softly, glancing down at him kindly. “Maybe someday soon.”

He nodded at you, disappointment lacing in the heaves of his chest. “Yeah. That’s no problem.”

“But I do want you to know that I am glad about you taking the first step to change,” you said. “And for not making a fool out of me, you know? I was hoping I hadn’t given the chance to the wrong person.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” He nodded. “Thank you for letting me know.”

Breathing in the silence, you gave him one last smile before backing off his body once and for all. You returned to your designated spot and pulled your legs close to your chest to make up for the sudden loss of warmth. A small smile played at your lips, you almost felt like you were back in high school talking to your first crush again.

“You’re welcome,” you muttered. “We’ve stalled long enough time. Let’s just eat and watch the soap opera together.”

He nodded in agreement, then he laughed. “I still have no idea what is going on though.”

“No worries, I will fill you in.” You waved your hand at him, tempting him to sit a little closer to you. Looking at the food, an idea popped into your head and you yelped, pressing a fist to your palm. “Ah! How about I make it up to you by making your lunch tomorrow?”

Minho bit his lower lip as he reached in to pick up a piece of pizza, his hand greased up with just a single grip but he couldn’t care less. He bit back a soft smile, only offering you a nod in return, “Yeah, please. I’d love that.”

You watched Changbin pop the last spoonful of kimchi fried rice into his mouth, your mouth creasing up into a smile upon the delicious hum he let out as he dropped the metal spoon onto the bento box carelessly, trying to savor the last taste of your homemade lunch. You made extra this morning when you were preparing the food for Minho’s lunch and you decided why not pack one for Changbin too? That way you could share the food and get some reviews in return.

Killing two birds with one stone. I see you were unusually thriving, [Name]. Why was that, one might wonder?

“Since when did you learn how to cook so well?” Changbin asked when he turned to you, a bunched up piece of tissue in his fist.

Oh great. If Changbin thought the food was good then Minho most likely would too. You did doubt the possibility of him complimenting you on the food straightforwardly, though. He would probably say something irritating first before discreetly slip in some happy words here and there, ones which you would be too annoyed to catch, but that wouldn’t be Minho's problem since he did, in fact, compliment you. He could check that box off.

“I had a lot of free time lately, and I decided why not become an improved version of myself?” You smiled smugly at him. A hand reached up to your shoulder to fake a sassy hair-flip as you hummed in satisfaction. “I am a whole new person now, Changbin. I can cook, I can–” your smiled dimmed funnily–“I don’t know what else I can do but I am sure I will think of something eventually.”

Changbin breathed out a faint giggle, his eyes casting down at the empty bento box in front of him once again. He was reluctant to taste the food you made when you first presented it to him, talking about not needing to go to some expensive restaurant and whineing about receiving a giant plate of a chip-sized spaghetti. It started from him doubting if you actually made it since it looked presentable, and then it was him being suspicious of the taste.

“It was really good. Thank you for making me something,” he said, squishing your cheek casually. His gaze softened when you grinned at him, joyous and genuine in the truest way possible. It made him feel as if he had missed out on something, like all the smiles you have shown him before served no value compared to this one. He sighed, folding his hands together and clearing his throat shyly. “Don’t make this weird but you feel happier lately.”

You tilted your head at him. “I do?”

“Yeah. Well, you have never really come to me about any problems and you were always happy when we hang out. But…” Changbin paused in thoughts, trying to phrase them in the best way possible. “It just feels like you’ve been doing much better than before. Like, I am not insinuating anything about your life and your marriage but you didn’t feel like you were genuinely happy before.”

You would never understand why ‘you’ never talked to Changbin about this broken marriage before and instead chose to talk to Minho’s mother. Even in the dramas that you have watched, books that you have read, the main character always tells their best friend about everything. To a point where it may backfire on them. Or perhaps that was the reason why? The reason why Changbin was not informed of the truth was that they were trying to keep him from causing a scene, from acting on his feelings?

Your brows furrowed. But it didn’t seem like Changbin has feelings for you though? The worst thing that could happen would be him sucker-punching Minho in the midst of a normal conversation because “how dare you treat my best friend like that, you piece of shit!” or something along the lines of that. It wouldn’t be you choosing him over Minho and thus, humiliating the latter with a sudden divorce.

“That is a good thing,” you said. “I am happier, I guess?”

“It is. I am just wondering why?” Changbin questioned. “Did something happen with Minho?”

“Changbin–“ you pressed your mouth shut.

You almost asked if he has feelings for you, just like that, bluntly and honestly. Thank god you caught your tongue before spilling such conceited bullshit. Just because you were the main character of this story didn’t mean you plan to assume your attractiveness just leveled up like that. And you would much rather you hadn’t met anyone’s standard in this world, unlike how most dramas work. You’ve spent your entire life being mediocre at best, too much attention would serve as nothing but a mere nuisance.

With the bottom lip jutted out, you puffed some air into your cheeks just to have something to do while the silence rolled on. Changbin was waiting patiently for an answer, dedicated to knowing whether your change in mood had anything to do with your husband. Your head pounded—technically speaking, it did have something to do with Minho, but even more than him, it had something to do with yourself.

The body switch changed ‘you,’ whoever they were. If your theory was correct, the people back on Earth could possibly be asking the same question depending on how ‘you’ decided to act. Or you could be sleeping, stuck in an unreasonable coma, unmoving and weak. You closed your eyes for a moment. Oh, you could see it, you could see the flashing images!

All the five people you knew being worried sick (or not) about you, the doctors were all gathered together to examine your body in hopes to find the cause of your deep slumber, paparazzi’s roaming outside your room! You better be the talk of the country when you wake up. You wanted to be interviewed, to be taken magazine pictures of! You could write a book about this experience; people would probably call you crazy but how would they be able to explain the coma, huh?

[Name], darling, your thoughts were going awfully off-track. Please spare a moment and take a look at the young and handsome man sitting next to you.

“Well, it might be because of him,” you replied carefully. “But it is mostly me. Like I said, I am improving myself! I am learning things and charging myself with knowledge!”

Changbin stared at you for a prolonged moment and you waited nervously for what he would say. The velocity of the wind was just perfect, blowing at your hair without disrupting the beauty of your features but also a sort of feminine flair to the situation; he was staring at you intently with curious eyes, which was enough to make your heart pound. This felt like the perfect time to say something cheesy and thus, mess up your feelings.

“[Name].”

You flinched invisibly, your eyes widened as a squeak left your pursed lips. You looked at him, asking him to continue.

Changbin laughed. “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright? If Minho ever tries to pull any stunt, you tell me.”

You blanked out for the rest of it, relieved that it was not a confession you heard. It wouldn’t be a problem anyway, you already knew what Changbin would say. Probably something along the lines of “I will hunt him down and kick his ass,” which would always sound romantic coming from a good-looking man but absolutely hilarious coming from an average-looking one. Either way, it did warm your heart to hear that someone cared about you enough to bother standing up for you.

“Thank you,” you said, rolling your eyes up at the sky and looking faraway. Minho popped into your head and a smile graced upon your lips, unbeknownst to you. “But I think Minho is fine. He may not be the best husband but he is trying, and I think I should give him credit for that.”

The way he treated you when you first met him was unreasonable, but at least he took the first step. Instead of ignoring your words and going on to be the asshole he was, thus prompting you to return the favor, he was the first to attempt at a change. You could always stand by the rule of ‘an eye for an eye,’ but sometimes you need to kill the cycle before it kills you.

“Alright then.” Changbin nodded at your reply and he stood up.

“Thank you, seriously,” you said as you stood up from your seat and as he did. Confidently, you reached your arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. He pressed his hands to your back without hesitation, engulfing you fully with his (very eye-catching) arms. You could never get used to this—his hugs, absolutely god-sent.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” you said, your voice muffled in his shirt.

“Always.” Changbin rubbed your back, smiling to himself. When he pulled away, he tilted his head with a question. “Wanna get out of here and go shopping?”

You smiled. Spending money? Sounds like fun. 

Wait. Shopping?

You almost forgot about that generous credit card slipped sluggishly between the five one-hundred-dollar bills in your wallet. When Minho heard that you planned to hang out with Changbin today, all he did was quietly take out his wallet and flip the card out for you to take along. You planned to deny the offer at first but as soon as you caught sight of the thick blackness of the card, you knew this was no normal credit card. 

No, no. That was no grocery store credit card. That card could pay off a mortgage loan in full. It was one of those reserved, royal, luxurious card made out of silk and velvet. You were too busy puking blood, sweat, and tears trying to sustain the weight of that one, stupid card that you didn’t even notice the look of dismay Minho flashed you when he reminded you to get home early. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. What would be next, huh? A private zoo overlooking a private waterfall?

Changbin raised a brow at you, concern plastered on his face when he saw the uncomfortable look on your face. He stepped closer to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” You nodded, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Let’s go. Just remind me not to buy anything too expensive.”

He frowned in confusion. “[Name], what? You married Lee Minho. The word expensive doesn’t exist.”

You spent so long chanting ‘eat the rich’ only to end up becoming one of them. “I don’t think it works that way, Changbin.” You laughed sarcastically before pointing to a random direction. “Can we just go get ice cream or boba. Anything normal like that.”

“Yeah–you are being really weird,” he said, patting you on the shoulder. “Are you taking the whole improving yourself thing too far?”

No, definitely not. If anything, you didn’t just get a mild improvement, you got an upgrade.

The first thing Minho did when he got home was to look for you.

He hadn’t thought about why and what he would do. It wasn’t like you would give him a welcome kiss or anything. He just thought seeing you after an eventful day at work would be a breath of fresh air, considering for most of the day, he had been putting up a professional front. He also wanted to thank you for the delicious lunch he spent minutes trying to figure out where he should eat it at.

He placed his shoes neatly by the door so the housekeeper would pick it up and return it back to his closet and walked over to the couch where he lightly dropped his briefcase at the corner. His eyes laid elsewhere, glancing through the kitchen and the dining area to find not one trace of human life anywhere in the living room. The house was eerily quiet too, unlike usual when you would be at home (especially not recently when you’ve started to get so talkative).

Minho heaved a sigh. You had not come back from your friendly date with Changbin yet.  

Glancing up at the television, he let a smile reach his lips as he recalled the pizza night you two had. He remembered being able to relax with you screaming and whining at the screen that night, and how he genuinely liked being able to lay back and feel nothing for a while. Heck, you even managed to get him invested in the episode half-way down. He was huffing and cursing by the end of the cliff hanger.

It was a great experience; simple and lovely. He missed it, quite a lot.

“Oh, Minho! Welcome back!”

He looked up at the housekeeper, strands of her white and black hair falling over her wrinkly face as the aftermath of domestic chores. She was wiping her hands on her jeans and she walked up to Minho, a gentle smile on her face as she said, “[Name] isn’t home yet if that is what you’re wondering.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he said as he reached into his bag and pulled out the wrapped bento box, handing it to the housekeeper politely. “Oh, this is the lunch box if you can wash it for me. Thank you.”

“So you are wondering if they’re home yet?” She took the box in her hands and held it close to her chest, staying on her spot instead of heading straight to the kitchen. Her gentle smile has changed into a knowing smirk, her eyes flashing a rare mischief when she saw the way Minho stuttered with his eyes. “You don’t used to ask for them like this, do you know?”

She was the kind of lady ‘you’ couldn’t fool into thinking the marriage was a good one. Even if she had not been your housekeeper and had not been keeping a careful eye on how you and Minho interact with each other, she would have known just by watching you two stand next to each other. But she kept her mouth shut, for it wasn’t her place to say anything, and for she had faith that something would change eventually.

“Sometimes I just wanna smack you out of it. I could never understand why you were so distant before, even though I can see you are a nice person,” she added. “But I guess I can’t blame everything on you either. Your parents and their parents were too rash.”

Minho pouted slightly at her words. It felt like she was finding excuses for him and it felt wrong. He never knew why he acted so distant either, to be frank, he just knew he started out that way and he had stuck to it for this long. Until you suddenly changed, you had enough of him and snapped back, you took the expected affection and turned it into something he has to earn.

The lady spoke, patting his arm. “But your parents should have given you more time so you can fall in love with them too.”

Minho would have loved you normally, but he was young and he was reckless with sensitivity. Suddenly tying him down with a ring, giving him no choice but to accept and act grateful—it made him go blind with stubbornness and he acted so stupidly in the relationship to prove a point that people would forever be ignorant of.

“How…” He shook his head. “But what if I don’t fall in love with them?”

“Oh, how am I supposed to know? That is in the past now, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, the soft pats on his arm turning into a weak hit. “You enjoy their love, Minho, and you do care. You can admit that. It’s not a bad thing.”

Minho pulled on his fingers, one by one he tugged on them harshly until he reached his ring finger. A gasp breathed from his chest and never out of his mouth, his eyes narrowing uncomfortably as he recalled back when you took yours off and returned it to him. He had it stored carefully in the original box, stuffed to the front of his desk drawer in his workroom.

And suddenly, all he could focus on was to put the ring back on your finger.

A knock came from the big doors, gaining his attention immediately as he turned his head over. Dropping his hands to his side, hope swelling within him, he went over and quickly opened the door only to be left disappointed when he saw that it was Yuna standing before him instead of you. He glanced at the clock slapped around his wrist, his frown deepening as more seconds ticked by without you being home.

“Minho!”

“Hey, Yuna,” he muttered, glancing up from his watch and looking at the girl. “What is it?”

“What is up with your face. Aren’t you at least a little happy to see me?” she questioned, her smile dimming with a faint scoff. She walked inside the house, closing the door on her way in.

“No, not particularly,” Minho replied honestly, sensing nothing wrong with his answer.

Yuna was used to his bluntness by now, but even then she went ahead and kept trying to shorten the bridge Minho set up between the two of them. Her progress wasn’t obvious, she couldn’t even be sure if she had made any type of progress. But one thing she knew for sure was that Minho acts a hell lot more closer to her than he ever did with you. That, she could stand by. Or so it used to be, at least. She wasn’t sure what’s changed recently. Perhaps your snapping made him take a turn for the better, or worse for her. 

“Bummer, I am very happy to see you.” She put on a frown. “Well, maybe not this time because I have something to show you.” Clutching her phone in her hands, her pretty brows furrowed in a look of sympathy mixed with distaste. How she managed to put two opposite emotions together on her face was beyond imaginable but it was, undeniably, a skillset. “Did you know [Name] was out with their best friend… what’s his name? Changbin! They were together today!”

“Yeah, I am well aware of that,” Minho sighed, glancing at his watch again.

“Don’t you find their tension weird?” Yuna asked, stepping up tauntingly. “They are so close! Honestly, if I didn’t know you two are married, I would have thought they were a couple. Especially what happened at the park today!”

Minho blinked slowly. Whatever Yuna was trying to pull here, it was definitely up to no good. He trusted you, whole-heartedly. Back when you were meek and quiet, and now when you were bold and honest. But what he thought was concrete. You couldn’t go behind his back and fool around with somebody else so long as you both haven’t gotten an official divorce yet. However, even if you weren’t cheating, could you possibly be falling in love with another secretly? Yes. He thought it possible, and he was intimidated by that idea.

He clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth to keep the accusation at the tip of his tongue. His paranoia shouldn’t be stronger than your morals. Yuna raised her brows at the reaction, her chest thumping in triumph at the assumption that her plan to pin the unfaithfulness on you was working. She jumped over to Minho’s side and circled her arm through his so she could pull him down to her level, and she whipped out her phone with the gallery prepared.

Minho could barely take a glance at the first picture when the door burst open. You came waltzing into the house, a tired groan escaping your lips as you kicked your shoes off and used your feet to shove them to the side. When you finally looked back up, your gaze sharpened at the sight of Minho and Yuna. You wanted to let out another groan of frustration; besides your sore feet, there was another, bigger, hassle in front of you. But you were more curious than annoyed at the sight. 

“How is it that I always catch you two together?” you asked as you crossed your arms.

Minho removed himself from Yuna, his eyes wide in alert and his mouth hung open with a silent explanation. To see him so riled up with fear just because you saw them in a rather friendly position caused none other than jealousy within the girl standing next to him, so she huffed and retorted with her phone clutched tighter in her hand.

“You are one to talk! You were out with Changbin the whole day today!” She flashed you her phone. “Explain this, cheater.”

You had to laugh. Cheater, right. Hilarious accusation. First of all, never in hell. You would not cheat for the fuck of it, not even when you were about to have your grade drop to a C and you have a teacher who sleeps during testing hours. Second of all, you forgot how quickly characters of her archetype liked to jump to conclusions. All those times screaming at the screen about them being a, as you like to call then, stupid fucking bitch, you never thought you would get the chance to experience one.

God, let’s just hope that Minho did not take the claimed cheating evidence the wrong way or else it would be a pain in the ass trying to clarify to him that you and Changbin were nothing more than friends. That was if it wasn’t already enough pain to have to deal with the second female lead over here.

“Oh! Yeah, I did cook lunch today. I had leftovers so I decided to share some with Changbin too, and I was being playful so I spoon-fed him like once before he smacked my hand away,” you laughed at the picture of you shoving a spoon too far down his mouth. “Hey, send this to me, will you? I can blackmail him with it. Look at how ugly he looks.”

Yuna gasped in disbelief. She couldn’t ask why you were spoon-feeding him, it wasn’t like friends are banned from playfully feeding each other food. If she nitpicked on something so trivial, she would sound desperate. Oh, think Yuna! Think hard and clear on how to make Minho hate his devoted spouse! Remember that you were indeed very desperate!

“But–but I saw you two hugging each other. Look!” She swiped her phone and showed it to both you and Minho.

You wished there were cameras present for you to stare into them. It was just a hug, first of all. Secondly, need you to remind that girl the position she caged Minho in when you first saw her in the office room. Hypocritical, dumbly so! This female lead was no fun at all! The deadpan expression on your face seemed to rub off on Minho quite a bit, as he pursed his lips together to hide a snicker at how ridiculous this situation was. You opened your mouth, inhaled a mouthful of air to stall time as you think of a response, and when you finally exhaled it was a defeated one.

“You got me, Yuna. You really got me,” you said, nodding. “I forgot I signed the contract where I can never ever hug my best friend anymore. I am so sorry, I messed up, I was wrong.”

She dropped her arms to her side with a huff. You were right once again. Something you could only say in a drama world and never in the real world, but we shall not go into that for the time being. Anyway, it was just a hug. She could argue that it was much more than just a friendly hug but yet again, she had no reason to show for it and she didn’t want to appear desperate. Even though she was, in fact, very desperate.

“If you aren’t talking then I guess it’s my turn.” You clapped your hands together at the silence. Looking at the girl, you kindly gave her a tilt of your head and a questioning gaze as you spoke, “Why do you have pictures of me and Changbin? Were you stalking me or did you pay other people to stalk me?”

Minho widened his eyes, a shocked yell erupting as he held out his hand. “Woah, [Name]! Yuna might be a little crazy but she isn’t–“

“Trust me, Minho. I have seen this scenario for at least fifty times now. It is not uncommon for the second lead to hire random, scary, useless men to take out the main lead,” you interrupted him quickly, with your palm shot out and facing him.

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Yuna asked, baffled.

“Too long, don’t listen. It just means I know how to handle this,” you explained briefly before nodding at her. “Care to explain? Did you take the pictures?”

Yuna heaved a sigh, her pretty eyes staring hopelessly back at you. She glanced at Minho once even though she knew she wouldn’t receive any form of help, and when she looked back at you, she nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

That was much easier than you expected.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you said. “But I want you to know that I don’t like what you did, and I especially don’t like you accusing me of cheating when I didn’t.”

She didn’t apologize; you didn’t expect her to.

Stepping aside, you eyed Minho quickly and gestured for him to take care of the girl. He hesitated for a moment, wanting nothing more than to talk to you, and he complied when you glared at him. You stood on the side, not paying attention to what Minho was saying as he walked the girl out, presumably to send her home.

“She really likes you,” you mused the first thing when Minho retuned from his mini-trip. You stirring a cup of tea in your hands, walking out of the kitchen in your slippers. When you saw the confused look Minho gave you, you shrugged. “Just an observation. Don’t tell me you never noticed?”

Minho titled his head to the side. “I don’t think too much of it.”

You hummed. These second-leads; always spending more than half of their life in love with someone only to get a “haha, I don’t think too much of it” in return. Sometimes you wonder if they were created to strengthen the plot and relationships, or just to slap reality right in the face of the audiences. 

Just because you love them doesn’t mean it deserves to work out for you, and most of the time it doesn’t work out for you.

“Heartbreaking,” you commented.

Minho sighed heavily, looking away to grab a mug so he could pour himself a cup of water. “Yeah.“

You eyed him carefully. Whether he was annoyed because of work or whatever just happened, you planned to clarify one thing. “I didn’t cheat, just so you know,” you said. “I never will.”

“Oh, yeah, I know. I trust you,” he said, gulping down the water and putting the mug down on the kitchen counter. He licked the droplets remaining on his lower lip and sighed. “It’s just…”

How does one talk about the feeling of jealousy without having a clear explanation as to why they feel it? How does on talk about the green monster when they were never prone to seeing it? How does one even talk about feeling jealous at all? It is such a taboo emotion for some reason. Minho grimaced, annoyed at himself for being unable to put his feelings into words, right now and back when he was talking with the housekeeper.

He shook his head, deciding to change the topic. “Thank you for the lunch today, I really liked it.”

A small smile appeared on your face as you pressed the lid of the mug close to your lip, not sure if you planned to drink the tea or just to have the heat stay close to your mouth so you could feel the warm humidity. “You’re welcome, I figured you’d like it since Changbin liked it too.”

“Cool,” Minho laughed, a painfully obvious sarcastic tone laced all over him he wasn’t even aware he was dripping with what you could recognize as jealousy. Mildly, not too much of it, just lingering on the fact that you didn’t make the food especially for him when he thought you did.

Amusement tingled in your head and you thought hard about whether you should tease him for it. You wanted to, for sure, but with someone whose dignity and feelings were so reserved, he would never admit to being jealous of anything. He would be hard to tease because he would fight like hell to deny it while his ears betray him in shades of red.

You took a sip of your drink. Fine, at least you knew he felt that way. “I can make your lunch again for tomorrow,” you said casually. “I should probably count my portion right this time. Wouldn’t want to make so much extra food again.”

Minho cleared his throat, a sense of giddiness bubbling up his chest but he pressed it down until he would be out of sight to celebrate this small victory by himself. Carefully placing the cup in the sink, he wiped the wetness on a towel hung on the oven handle, not looking at you as he spoke, “Yeah, sure. Thank you again.”

“No problem.” You moved over to the sink and rinsed your cup before putting it on the dish rack located just at the side.

“Oh, I got news today that my dad’s company is going to hold a gathering soon,” he said, his voice louder when he knew what he needed to say. He rubbed his knuckles against his pants discreetly, clearing this throat. “They basically have people working in other companies come over and each department would pitch an idea and see if they want to invest in the idea.”

You nodded. “Oh, that’s fun.”

“Yeah, and uh, I would like it if you can tag along?” he asked.

“Won’t I have to anyway?” you responded light-heartedly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes and no. You don’t actually have to show up all the time, contrary to what we have been doing for almost every single company gatherings I have been to. I just want to see if you want to go this time since my dad–well, he is finally giving me a chance to pitch an idea by myself,” he muttered under his breath before quickly adding. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to! I’m not gonna force you to go to those events anymore.”

This felt like some type of prom proposal but a much less expected and underprepared version of it. This was the first time you have ever been asked to join anything that wasn’t a club activity or a family gathering. Although it was a company gathering, you would still be attending as a plus-one, and the thought of that boost your confidence quite a bit.

Besides, you would probably leave the scene half-way through and, if everything goes according to the book, Minho would follow you out and you two would bond in this magnificent garden you miraculously stumble into. One that should not exist in the middle of a vibrant city behind a company building. 

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you accepted. “Gonna go cheer you on, of course. Not loudly but you know.”

“Oh… okay, thanks,” he breathed out a sigh of relief at your reply, the weight dropping off his shoulders.

You turned to Minho then, a faint smile on your face due to the lack of things to say. The tension was rather awkward. You two simply stood before each other in the kitchen, with no words to say and speechless eyes focusing on each other. Minho moved after a while, his hand flying up just a fraction. He looked as though he wanted to talk but he wasn’t sure how, and so you waited for him to pull his mind together.

“Um… I just wanna say welcome home,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets because he didn’t know what else to do with them. “I was gonna greet you when you come back but Yuna was here.”

Your eyes softened. Well, you’ll be. Who would have thought Minho had the ability to stir up the shy romantic in you? Cheeks slightly tinted pink, disbelief eyes darting everywhere but you, hands in pockets, and a naturally pouty lip. Muttering some cheesy lines that would escalate the affection both of you feel for each other, all the while trying too hard to make it seem casual. This man was a whole tsundere and you were living for it!

Laughing, you nodded as you looked around the room you have come to be more familiar with. “Thanks. I’m home.”

“Did you have fun today?” he asked.

“I did,” you replied. “But it’s always nicer at home.”

Minho quirked his lips up for a moment before his expression returned to the bewildered, confused one. His gaze was hard with uncertainty as he moved slow. His arms reaching up unconfidently, his legs wanting to bring him forward but they were unmoving. You tilted your head with squinted eyes, deciphering his movements while he huffed out curses at himself.

“Actually, nevermind,” he said. “You didn’t see anything.”

Oh, for god’s sake, [Name]. Just give the poor man a hug! You want to!

“Minho,” you called to stop him before he could turn and leave. Boldly, you opened your arms. “Come here, it’s fine.”

He reluctantly moved closer to you upon the invitation. His arms carefully going around your back to engulf you in his arms, his head dipping slightly just enough to smell the lingering scent of street food you ate this afternoon. It felt nice, as much as he forgot how touching other people feel. Steadying himself in your embrace felt warm and safe. He blinked at the floor, unsure of what else he could do aside from just standing there with his arms around your torso.

“You smell like sweat, Minho,” you complained with a frown, your chin pinning down on his shoulder as you slapped his back one. “Go take a shower. I’ll make some dinner.”

Minho clicked his tongue, his brows furrowing slightly. He wasn’t mad, though; your remark made him feel less awkward if anything. Reminding him that this was just a hug, and he should not have to take it so seriously like he was heading to war or something. He could do this every day if he wanted to, and he sure wanted to.

“Your hair smells like grilled octopus so maybe you should go deal with that too,” he said. “Did you get me some of that?”

“No, I didn’t know you like that.” You shrugged as you pulled away after one last smack to his back for commenting on how your hair smelled like barbecue as if you didn’t already know. “Let’s go get some next time, just the two of us.”

“Sure, I know a restaurant.”

“No, Minho. I mean the street stalls kind,” you said, waving your hand, “You know? The ones in the crowded streets. The food stalls?”

“I do know. I just don’t go to those places,” he said, pulling a face. He has been wondering what your image of him was. It seemed you’ve considered him under the spotlight of a very stereotypical rich man. 

You poked your tongue against your inner cheek. You should have expected that. Maybe that was where your one-minute montage would come from. You could already see the episode title: love and food, where [Full Name] teaches rich man Lee Minho the art of shoving people in crowded streets to get to your favorite food stalls, thus making Lee Minho fall in love with you because wow, this is such a different scenario than what he was used to! No one has ever brought him to places like this before, even though he was fully capable of going anywhere he wanted!

“Then we have to go at least once,” you huffed. “But for now, let’s worry about dinner.”

“Of course,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I will go take care of my… body odor.”

You burst into laughter as you nodded, moving over to the refrigerator, “Yes, you do that, sweaty. And I will deal with my hair later.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and spun on his heels. Moving out of the kitchen and back to the couch where he could get his bag, he paused for a moment when he caught the black television standing there, and a thought popped into his head.

“Hey, [Name]!” He yelled out, looking up to find you peeking out the door. He played with his fingers, “Should we just order some takeout?”

“Oh?” You looked around the clean kitchen with a soft frown before you nodded with a shrug. “Sure. That’d save me the effort. What do you want?” you asked, walking out of the kitchen as well. “Chinese? Thai?” You hummed with a playful smirk. “Pizza?”

You saw him smile.

Pizza it is.

The clinking of the teaspoon was rhythmic as you stirred the cup of jasmine tea in the quiet kitchen. Night has descended long ago. The housekeeper and driver have already returned to their home. You just peeled off your face mask and you could still feel the essence on your skin. The living room was dark with only the kitchen light illuminating the area. It was one of those silent times in a day where you look around and it hits you once again that you were someplace else.

But this house wasn’t strange to you anymore. This house was where you slept in for weeks, where you ate pizza and cooked meals you could never imagine having the time to cook, where you found yourself gradually approaching the mortifying idea that was falling in love with another human being.

Blowing air out of your lips, you groaned at the thought. Falling in love; you have fanaticized about it so long yet it never really happened. The deepest form of affection you have ever felt was classmate crushes and celebrity admiration, nothing stronger than that has ever occupied your heart before. And you were never sure if you wanted anything more than that, ever, because you have always been afraid of rejection, of the one-sided love television talked so much about.

It wasn’t just the rejection. It was all those witching hours spent being cautious and overthinking every interaction you make with the other person, imagining scenarios that you already deemed impossible, wondering if you should fall in love or if you are worth being fallen in love with.

But the rejection part wouldn’t apply to you in this situation since you and Minho were already married, not to mention he was trying to become a better person for you, therefore you shall have no problem going forward from here. Alright, maybe you would have some trouble with showing affection but that wouldn’t be because you don’t accept Minho and only because you were never taught how to properly reciprocate another’s love.

“Made you jasmine tea, you lame-a-thon!”

Minho looked up from his desk with a deadpan expression. You and your nicknames just get worse and worse as time passes, and he painfully awaits the day when you finally unleash the worst nickname you could muster. When you saw his frown, you hummed, “Oh, stop that frown, boy. Your face will get stuck like that.”

You kept telling him that and he knew for a fact that it is impossible for facial expressions to be stuck on his face. Yet, every time you tell him that, he found himself whole-heartedly trusting you for just a second and he would revert to a neutral expression. It was stupid, it was the kind of stupid only you could bring out in him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name].” Minho received the tea gratefully, giving you a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes bounced down to the pattered mason jar you were holding and he tilted his head, holding up his own mug. “How come you get a pretty jar and I just get a white mug?”

You shook your jar. “My drink is iced, yours is hot. Hot drinks and glass jars? Not cute. Iced drinks and glass jars with straws? Very cute.” You took a sip of your fruit juice before pulling the straw away and added with a giggle. “Also, you don’t look like someone who would use something like this.”

“Judging a book by its cover now, huh? I see.” He rolled his eyes and returned to his papers.

You decided to stay at home with him too, the idea only floating out of your head during the third day when you impulsively knocked on his workroom and sat down on the couch with a random book you pulled from the bookshelf. He let you sit there with him in silence, the only sound reverberating around the room were papers turning, keyboards typing, and an occasional chatter about the book you were reading.

Minho wondered why he has never done this before. He always thought he liked to work alone, and he still does. But having you stay in the same room with him felt more comforting than the deafening silence he has to face whenever he allows himself a moment to rest. He could look up and be reminded that someone is there with him, and that defeats the hidden loneliness he never liked to confront.

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” you asked, grimacing. Not sure why you felt the need to urge Minho to stop working when you were also one to sit in front of a computer with papers piling up at your work desk too. It was always much easier to point a bad habit out for somebody else than yourself, you supposed. “You’ve been here the whole day.”

Minho shook his head, pouting slightly. “No. I’ll be done with it when I feel like I’m done for today.”

“Are you slacking behind?”

“No,” he said in a soft whisper, glaring up at you for even thinking he would let himself fall behind.

You sneered and removed yourself from his desk. Walking back to the couch you’ve sat on for days, staring at a book or scrolling on your phone, you jumped back on top and placed your drink on the lamp table just behind your head. Laying your body down and extending your legs, you grabbed the thick book and opened it once again to pick up where you left off.

Minho glanced at you, a gentle smile quirking on his lips and his hands slowing down with the papers. He never noticed it, but the couch was placed at the perfect angle for him to look at. Even if you caught him staring, he could always laugh it off as him looking at the clock just above you on the wall. It was perfect, very discreet, and wish-fulfilling.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You didn’t bother to take your eyes off the book but you had stopped reading the lines. You shook your head. “No, I don’t feel like leaving you here alone with the clock ticking. Also, this book is interesting. I want to finish it quickly so I can grab another one.”

“Huh? What is it about?”

“Some random Math stuff? I don’t know. I didn’t pay much attention to the context, I just like to read the words,” you said, looking over at him with confident eyes briefly before going back into the book, where you would be saying the words and not stringing them together to make any sense. “It makes me feel smart when I read them.”

He chuckled at your response, his brow arching slightly at the unpredictability of your actions. He made no further comment, letting himself dive back into work as he planned to. Time flew quickly when he was focused, and another hour passed before he knew it. When he granted himself another break for his eyes and neck, he could see that the time was inching closer to sunrise, and when he cast his gaze downwards, he could find you sleeping with the book open on your chest.

Dropping everything at his fingertips, he stood up slightly to give himself a clearer look. Your breathing was slow and your eyes were closed. You also have not been making any comments for the past hour so that should be enough indication for him that you had fallen asleep. Fully standing up now, Minho walked out of his desk so he could approach the couch where you laid. He glanced down at you, debating whether he should wake you up or carry you back to your room.

He grimaced. It would be best to wake you up, right? What if you didn’t want him to bridal-style carry you? But he also didn’t want to disturb you from your sleep either, you looked so peaceful! Minho paced back and forth across the floor, his index nail stuck between his teeth as his eyes shook with thoughts. God, you would laugh so hard if you knew he did this—what a dilemma! Do you or do you not carry your spouse back to their bed when they have fallen asleep?

Just carry them back, Minho, stop worrying.

He paused in his track, his eyes rolling up at the ceiling with a faint murmur. “Carry them…?”

Uh, yes, Minho. That was what I said.

Minho frowned with a scratch on the back of his neck, but he complied with the voice in his head and moved back to the couch. He crouched to your level and carefully removed the book from your hand. You stirred, causing him to freeze immediately, but there was nothing more than that. He dropped the book on the carpet floor before he fumbled around in the air with his unsure hands, not sure where to place them.

Alright, calm down a moment, Minho.

Breathing out slowly, he attempted to calm his messy mind as he let his arms drop back to his side and he stayed in the crouching position. Minho’s gaze blinked over to your face and his heart softened. This utterly relaxed, unguarded face of yours was one of the many faces Minho loved about you; even though it might take him some time to get around to that strong word, he wasn’t denying how much he felt a genuine fondness over it.

At moments like these, when you couldn’t hear him, Minho thought he would spill his deepest, darkest secrets to you, or even confess the inner feelings he got. Maybe about how he honestly would much prefer to have a cup of water instead of tea, or maybe about how he kind of preferred Chinese food over pizza after you made him eat General Tso with rice that one time, or even about how he really enjoyed strolling through the street with you even though he had protested going outside the other night.

But he didn’t. He just watched, trying to match your breathing with his own, trying to keep the gentle back of his fingers to himself instead of running it down your cheek.

It was supposed to happen this way, the cliché scene where one watches the other sleep. When did such a quiet, loving moment become a laughing stock? Did people forget that it has always just been about the serenity of watching a loved one breathe so peacefully and finding immense solace in the idea that they will be there with you until the night comes and the morning sun rises? What is so cliché about feeling at ease with a loved one by your side?

“Okay. Let’s get you to bed.” Minho smiled to himself when you stirred once more on the couch. He finally slipped his hands under your legs and your torso, making sure he found the right place before he pulled you up. However, instead of hoisting you up into his arms, your breathing quickened in the wake of being disturbed and you were quick to open your heavy eyes.

Minho whispered out a laugh. “Hey, good morning.”

You furrowed your brows. That was Minho, you knew even though your mind was too groggy to make out his face. You couldn’t even see those pretty eyes of his with your eyes half-opened and your brain not functioning normally. You just knew you were exhausted and you wanted nothing more than to head back to sleep.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, shifting your weight so you could turn to him and roll straight into his embrace.

He sat back against his feet, a startled groan paired with the curling of his arms when you hugged him by the neck and laid your face at the crook of it. He froze for a minute, wondering if you planned to move at all only to find that you were asleep once again. Looking around the room, he flashed a hopeless look, asking for help from above.

The above won’t answer you, but I could help, I suppose. Sigh… what would you both do without me?

Just lay down and rest, Minho. It’s about time you sleep too.

Minho licked this lower lip. Your gentle breathes fanning against his skin disarmed all the walls he has built up to guard his heart, which currently thumped heavily in his chest. Oh, how crazy it was! He felt both giddy and baffled at the same time, loving and fearing this reaction! Carefully standing up, he held you close to his chest and moved the both of you back on the couch, where he tried to slide underneath your body first before laying you down.

“Jesus, Minho, stop fucking moving.” You squeezed his neck lightly as your irritated voice echoed in his ears.

He apologized with a nod, toning down the wriggling of his body as he wrapped you up in his arms and, cautiously, placed one leg on top of yours to secure your position. He gulped and exhaled. This was the first time he has ever been this close to someone and it would be the first time he has ever slept in a cuddle position. He has never longed for it, not even when he had to third-wheel his friends on party nights, and he wondered what sorcery caused his indifference toward something so amazing. 

The heaving of your chest pushed against his, reminding him to breathe. He held you close, the corner of his heart filling up the tighter his grip on yours was. He thought you would whine about it again, smacking him and telling him to loosen his grip. He waited until that moment for a long time. It never came. 

The gathering was as extravagant as you expected it to be but it was definitely much more wedding-like than you anticipated. People were leaving their expensive cars left and right at the drop-off area, some greeting each other while some walking straight into the building due to the evening cold.

Seeing the obnoxiously loud interactions of other rich families, you grimaced with a firm reminder of what goal you set for yourself this night: smile and nod, pretend you know the people and fake an emergency for escape! You’ve thought this over thoroughly—what kind of medical emergency would be publicly acceptable in the eyes of the rich? You had no idea, but you figured you’d roll with it when time comes!

“I thought this gathering is just for business people,” you muttered to Minho when he led you into the building.

He looked around with a blank expression, his eyes tired and his heart hammering loudly in his ears upon the bright setting. “Yeah but they bring extra people,” he replied with a low gruff, annoyed and not trying to hide it.

You glanced at his face. He has had this same pained expression on his face the whole day. It has been here since the morning when you got down to the kitchen and found him devouring a piece of toast while looking at the script he prepared for the presentation. You figured he was just nervous. After all, he did mention how important this opportunity was for him. His father was finally allowing him to contribute instead of simply sitting in on meetings and critiquing others’ work.

He was stepping out of his father’s shadow and showcasing his capability, to not just his father but all the other staff as well. You recognized how important that was, so, not wanting to disturb him, you had chosen to keep a good distance for today and only encourage him before he has to go on stage to present his idea for the company. 

Instead of bothering him with your unnecessary commentary about the place, you have decided to keep it all to yourself as you observed your surroundings while following his lead into the gathering hall. There wasn’t much you could say about places as such because you were, for one, inexperienced when it came to excessive places like this. Bright lights, velvet carpet, wide stairs, and marble columns decorated with white flowers.

Honestly, this could really pass for a wedding venue if you didn’t know any better. If they got porcelain white napkins hidden somewhere inside, you’d probably be stuffing some in your pockets just for the fun of it. It would be the closest you’d ever come to actually eating the rich; you would be stealing from them. They were not very similar in action, but at least you’d be doing something, unlike those who were often all bark and no bite.

Minho could feel the burning pit in his stomach growing the more he stepped closer to the actual venue. Pressing a hand to his abdomen in hopes to calm himself down, he spared a glance your way and let out a curious a chuckle when he saw the way you were examining the place—with focused eyes, like you have arrived at a crime scene and you wanted to find hidden clues left by the criminal.

This was the first time he has seen you react like this. You were never bothered by these types of places, much due to the fact that you grew up going to these events. But it was a sight for sore eyes, his sore eyes, and perhaps his sore heart too. He felt like he was about to die from nervousness despite all the times he spent preparing for this moment, and the fact that you shouldn’t be amazed by something so familiar blew over his head.

It was too significant for him not to be anxious over how he could potentially fuck up. Looking at you took those thoughts away for a brief moment before it hit back at him again, and he returned to that stoic expression he had earlier.

“Oh, you are finally here!”

Minho’s mother opened her arms as she approached him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to hug him better. You smiled at them from behind, your hands clasped at the front and waiting for her to notice you. And she did, immediately after she sent Minho away to find his father. She gave you the same enthusiastic response and hugged you tight like she hasn’t seen you in years.

“I am so glad you came. Somebody needs to be here and cheer my boy on,” she laughed, moving over to the long table filled with treats and drinks. “He has never dealt well with stage fright, unless when he is dancing, then he just turns into this whole other person!”

“Oh, I see–excuse me, what?” You paused in the middle of your sentence, your eyes blinking in disbelief as you turned to her. Forget the almond cookies and the chocolate cupcakes lined up waiting to be greeted by the impending death! Minho and dancing? That was the real deal, you’ve got to get as much information on that as you could!

“Dancing! [Name], you know this! Minho used to dance when he was younger but he stopped when he started university!” she said, hitting your forearm.

“Of–of course! I haven’t seen him dance in a long time, I kind of forgot what it looks like anymore,” you giggled, causing her to scoff.

“Why didn’t you just ask? I have so many videos saved. I can just send them to you when I have time,” she said, to which you beamed. That must be a sight to behold; you wondered if Minho never talked about it because he was embarrassed by it? But then again, judging by the tone of voice his mother was using, she was more proud than amused.

As she looked away at the stage, a nostalgic smile on appeared her face. “He was always so excited to dance. Sometimes I wonder if he would have gone down that path instead of this if his father didn’t force him to quit dancing.”

You hummed in thoughts, wondering the same question. He seemed rather intent with what he has right now, not to mention he was far too determined and hard-working for someone who doesn’t like their job. But that wouldn’t eliminate the possibility that he didn’t choose this for himself. Perhaps you should ask when you get the chance, maybe after the gathering is done and he is back in a good mood again.

“Oh, [Name], I’ve got to leave for a momentl.” She patted your arm to inform you, pointing her finger at a group of older ladies sitting around a table.

“Okay, have fun!” You nodded.

“Of course,” she said, her smile dimming slightly before she walked closer to you. When she spoke, she was whispering, “Did you and Minho fight again? Where is your ring?”

You gasped. You almost forgot about that! Looking away, you cursed yourself for never asking Minho for the ring back. You would be more than happy to put it back on your finger now, considering how you and Minho were getting along splendidly. Witty remarks were thrown at each other, but there were also hints of care and affection left here and there; you two were simultaneously hatching down each others’ emotional walls, waiting to meet each other at the very core of your beings eventually.

Besides, it’d be awkward if other people noticed. 

“No, we didn’t!” You pulled at your fingers and laughed, genuinely. “I took it off when I was cooking earlier this week and I think I misplaced it. I haven’t been able to find it since then, but I will make sure to double-check again.”

She was quick to breathe out a sigh of relief. “Ah, and I was over here wondering what he did this time! You got me on my toes ever since you asked me about a divorce.”

“No, no! Everything is much better now.” You smiled, biting your lower lip as your mind filled up with Minho’s image. “I think I–“ you cleared your throat–“like you said, I loved him through it.”

Oh, you almost said it! It was a close one but no worries, there is always next time. Just make sure you won’t be too late for it.

Her smile widened at your words, her eyes glistening in threatening tears. She held your hands. “That’s great! That is all I want to hear.”

She gave your hand one last squeeze before she bid you another farewell and left your side. Surprisingly, you didn’t feel too anxious having to fend for yourself in a crowd of strangers. For one, you thought if you stuffed your face with enough food, people would leave you alone. For two, your mood was heightened so much after having a talk about Minho, from knowing about his previous dancing passion to indirectly admitting your feelings for him. It made you feel all jittery inside, your heart beating like jelly, sweet and weak.

Facing the sea of sweets laid out in front of you, you quickly reached out for the nearest cookie plate and stuffed two almond cookies into a napkin you grabbed from the corner. When you were done, you looked up and scanned the place for a quiet corner where you could eat your snack in peace. There seemed to be none. This place was riddled with rich people talking, bragging, and whining.

Taking a bite of your cookie, you squinted your eyes in hopes to find traces of Minho anywhere. At a time like this, talking to strangers would be inevitable, and if you were going to do that, you would much rather do it with him by your side. At least he could carry or save the conversation if you started to act weird and say poor, irrelevant things these people wouldn’t understand, like how you like to buy fruits wholesale and that thousand dollars mini purse was so not worth it, ma’am! What the hell do you have in there? Air?

Speaking of mini purses. Your bored gaze trailed across the top of people’s heads until they settled on a familiar someone. You hummed curiously, casting your gaze a little to the side and bingo! There Minho was, as you expected. You were bound to find Minho around if you see Yuna. Swallowing the cookie and stuffing the remaining one into your pocket after wrapping it up neatly in the napkin, you quickly made your way across the hall where those two stood talking.

When Minho saw you approaching, he first breathed out a sigh of relief. He had been trying to get rid of Yuna but it was to no avail. Not saying the girl was persistent in her chattering but because his mind was too hazy to think about anything to say, he could only glare hard at her in hopes to focus at least a little on the one-sided conversation. Yuna should have probably guessed from his eyes that he wanted to take a break but you really shouldn’t expect much from her. She’s a bit stubborn.

She stopped abruptly when she saw Minho turn to the side, a groan leaving his lips. His heavy steps made his way over to you, her brows furrowing as she sucked in a puff of air after she noticed your presence. You laughed in startlement when he placed a hand on your shoulder, ready to give him a snarky remark. Then he suddenly dropped his head down to your shoulder and rested there. You were taken back; he must be exhausted. 

You caught Yuna’s eyes without him blocking your view, the dissatisfied look on her face sending a shiver down your spine. Way to make yourself on top of her blacklist. Not that you cared much, but under a setting like the one you’ve been forced to live in? It would not hurt to plan for some mafia-related accident that may or may not happen.  

“Woah, Minho. Feeling a little too nervous, are we?” you joked, your hand flying up to the back of his neck so you could give him a comforting pat.

As soon as your hand touched his skin, it flinched back on instinct at the burning hot sensation. You grimaced, confused and very concerned. Where did the sudden heat come from? Pressing your palm to the back of his neck again, your faint grimace turned into a deep frown as you patted against him a few times before pulling away to look at him.

“Minho, you’re burning up,” you said as you pushed him up from your shoulder. Your hand went to his forehead despite his protest and back to your own for comparison, not that it was much needed because he was very obviously heating up. You focused on him, watching his chest heave up and down slowly like he was trying to take very deep breathes, and his eyes were struggling to open. “Shit, you have a fever–all of a sudden?”

Yes. All of a sudden. Does nobody care for illogical surprises anymore?

Now his gloomy moods made sense, although it was quite a shock that he just suddenly came down with a fever like this. There were no signs of it just this morning. He probably accumulated too much stress these few weeks from him isolating himself in the workroom. Not to mention the nervousness that built up to today adding more weight to his health.

Before Minho could say anything, there was a muffled clap echoing through the hall. The speakers were turned up for the host standing in the middle of the stage with a microphone in hand, a podium next to him ready for the speakers to go up. He cleared his throat and welcomed everyone in a cheery tone before asking the guests to return to their assigned seats.

You pursed your lips, a sudden tinge of uncertainty flowing into your mind. You forgot he was supposed to go up this evening. 

“You can’t go up there like this. You should go home,” you suggested, giving him a rather commanding glare.

He shook his head, rubbing the side of his temple as he squished his eyes tight. “No, I have to… I have to do this tonight,” he said, “It’s fine, I can hold on until the end of the presentation.”

“But–“

“[Name],” he took a deep breath and smiled at you. He stood up straight, breathed in deep, and kept that smile on his face. Forcing his eyes open, he looked back at you and nodded in confirmation, “I’m going to be fine. I just needed a little rest from the noise. We can leave immediately after I’m done. I promise.”

You bit the inner part of your bottom lip, still unsure and wondering if you should insist on going home early. Him being sick was one thing, but another thing was that you did not want to be the person who ruins his opportunity to show himself in front of important figures within his community. He worked so hard for today, maybe you should put some faith in him when he told you he could make it till the end of his pitch.

Minho relaxed when you placed your hand on his cheek, ever so slightly he leaned against your palm to feel its softness. You almost laughed at his reaction, a light-hearted laugh that shows nothing more than how fond of him you have become. Stroking his cheek with your thumb, you nodded. “Okay then.”

Ah, so sweet. What a miracle that nobody was paying attention to the two of you standing at one corner of the hall, drowned in each others’ eyes like the sun drowns in the sky. It was the exact manifestation of that description where your surroundings go white and it is as if nobody is there. And instead of a kiss, you just have your hand on his cheek.

Get to your damn seats, the story cannot go on without you both at your assigned spots.

The introduction going into the line-up for each presentation prepared for this gathering was boring at best. You were too busy making sure Minho was really feeling okay that you paid little to no attention to what the host was saying on stage. When his name was called up, you flashed him one last concerned look only to get an assuring smile in return.

His steps felt heavy as he moved away from the table and up to the stage. His mind spinning with words from the script he prepared for himself days earlier and memorized within a night’s time. It would be a shame if he messed up or suddenly forget what to say, but he was prepared enough to be able to improvise. He knew his own ideas and materials. 

The only trouble he really needed to conquer was—

Minho closed his eyes immediately when the spotlight flashed at his face without warning. He sucked in through gritted teeth, his eyes burning from the unwanted brightness and his mind feeling jumpier than ever at the stimulation.

—the threatening spotlight, the sea of eyes, the hammering in his ears, the microphone that accentuated his heavy breathing, his sweaty palms, his shaky voice when he started to speak, his warm forehead.

It just hit him how hard this would be. The stage fright and his weak body felt like an immortal enemy. Before he knew it, his eyes were closing, and he was stumbling on his spot, and then all of a sudden, his knees buckled in the most graceful way possible, and his body dropped to the ground.

The first thing Minho saw when he opened his eyes again was those annoying lights attached to his bedroom ceiling. Immediately closing them, he let out a faint groan and shifted his position on the bed so he could sit upon the soft mattress. The fabric of his clothes changed from the rough blazer of his suit to his smooth pajama. He could feel it by grabbing a fistful of his pants as he sat up.

Sensing movement from the bed, you looked up from your phone and immediately broke into a smile when you saw that Minho was awake. Getting up from your seat, you moved over to the edge of his bed and leaned against the side of it to look at him. “Good morning to you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he muttered, feeling completely out of it. He was trying to remember what happened before he blacked out, mainly whether he made it through the end of his presentation or if he just fainted in the middle of it. The more he tried to use his head, the more nauseated he felt.  

In the midst of his heavy thoughts, he felt your fingers gently brush against his bangs to move them out of his eyes, and he jolted back to reality in order to give you a smile.

“I know you are. Who wouldn’t be, honestly?” you huffed, recalling in fast-forward motion of how you and him spent the past weeks in his office room.

Guilt slowly wrapped around your heartstrings then, making you wonder if you should have taken better care of him despite his persistent to work on the pitch proposal, or if you should have stopped him from going up the stage earlier. Yet none of those would compare to the panic you felt when he dropped to the ground.

The feeling was quick to leave as you figured out the negativity wasn’t what Minho needed at the moment, and you reverted to your old, laid-back self by giving his forehead a flick of your fingers, earning a surprised yelp from him. “Also, if you are wondering, I changed you out of your clothes,” you said. “Don’t worry, I didn’t try and see anything. I am very noble.”

Minho lacked the energy to roll his eyes but he did giggle, leaning his head against the headboard with his eyes closed. When he opened them again, he glanced over at you to find you staring right at him. Your brows arched questioningly at his silence, and the more he kept quiet the more you could feel a blush gushing up your cheeks.

Putting your hands on your hips, you tapped your feet against the floor to feign annoyance as you tilted your head at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Oh, please, you knew why he was looking at you with those sparkly eyes of his, gleaming with a kind of adoration no other has held for you. In most cases, quiet moments like these would force the two main characters both looking at each other. One acting confused while the other filled to the brim with love. Since you were the oblivious one, Minho would be the latter.

You knew that. You just didn’t want to admit to knowing it on your own because for one, it might make you look conceited, and for two, what if you were jumping way ahead of yourself? That would be very humiliating for you, [Name]. That was if you hadn’t already done that by asking such a stupid question. 

Instead of replying, all Minho did was reach his arm out so he could grab your hand. You laughed in bewilderment, trying to peel yourself away from his touch but finding yourself complying with what he wanted. Your body moved on its own, scooting closer and lowering your arm so he has easier access to your hand. The laughter died down as soon as it started, leaving its job for the blush that heated on your face.

Could you feel it? That sense of vexation rising in your chest when you realized all those times you spent criticizing characters for acting awkward in romantic situations had backfired on you dramatically because you acted just like them all. Blushing, wordless, shivers in the heart you couldn’t control—completely at Minho’s mercy despite him doing the bare minimum.

This tenderness was as new to you as it was to Minho. He hadn’t touched anyone like this before. Surely, he was never too rough with anybody or anything, but holding you was a different kind of gentleness he has never expressed.

It wasn’t just for the sake of not being bearish. It was being soft so he doesn’t hurt or break, it was being soft so it isn’t just a touch but a cradle and a caress, it was being soft so he becomes as sensitive as you. Touching you is like touching porcelain; he does it softly so he won’t break nor crack nor crease you, and he does it softly so he won’t run the risk of cutting himself with you.

This was what he missed out on all those years. When he thought back to it, only regret clouded his mind, but he has changed along with you when you did, and everything felt okay now.

Just one more thing, though.

You could feel his eyes burning at your hand, and once again you were reminded of the lack of diamond ring on your fourth finger. 

“Oh! The ring! I–ahh–I was going to ask you for it but I never got around to it so.” A wave of panic arose as you yelped, startling Minho. “If you will give it to me again, I will be more than happy to wear it back, Minho.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, pursing his lips as he looked up at you. “Of course, it’s in my–“

“Minho!”

The door burst open, causing both of you to glance over at the door. Minho’s mother came rushing into the room, her face riddled with concern. When she saw Minho awake and smiling, she breathed out a sigh and walked in with a hand on her chest. “Oh, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Minho replied quickly, “Tried but I am fine, mom. You don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure? You fainted back there, it was really bad,” she pressed on, moving closer. “Everybody was shocked!”

When you saw how his brow creased and his jaw clenched at her words, you cleared your throat and waved your hand to deescalate the tension. “Actually–it wasn’t like, that bad, you know?”

“I am sure, mom. I promise,” Minho reassured, his voice right and weaker all of a sudden. “I am gonna be back on my feet in no time.”

She worriedly glanced over at you for confirmation and you nodded in return. Then she broke into a faint smile, unclenching her fist and letting it fall to her side. “Oh, good. Thank you so much for taking care of Minho for me, [Name],” she thanked, then she looked away from the both of you and stared right ahead at the window. “If there are no more problems then I should take my leave–“

“Mom,” Minho cut her off. You could finally sense it now, the hidden urgency in his voice. Looking over at him, you found that his eyes were shivering widely, like he was afraid, and his grip on your hand has gotten loose as his concentration averted to his mother. “Where is dad?”

She was visibly uncomfortable now. You breathed in deeply, a revelation exploding in your head.

How the hell did you think you could get away with this trope? The man with daddy issue. Or just parental issues in general but this one was so obviously father problems! You cursed inwardly, ears perked up to listen to their conversation while your mind raced to figure out a solution as you did so.

Here is the thing about parental issues in dramas. When it is about the mother, it is often directed at the female counterpart, and often very easy to solve as long as the main lead is headstrong about what they want. When it is about the father, however, it is usually directed at the male counterpart and much harder to get over, because unfortunately he would be stuck with one father for the rest of his life. It becomes less of a marriage problem or an argument about a potential romantic interest, and more of a psychological injury in need of life-long healing. 

It is work ethics, dignity, power, and money! It is about their child not having the intellect to follow in their footsteps, about their child not wanting to follow in their footsteps. It is having an open affair with someone else and not understanding why your child just wouldn’t listen to your mistress. Fathers are special, and they are weird. They are stubborn and annoying. You never liked shitty father figured in fiction!

That was personal. I can feel it. 

“He doesn’t want to see you, Minho,” she spoke comfortingly. When your words are deafening, the only thing you can possibly do is lower your voice, and even then it may not work the way you want them to. “I tried getting him out of the car but–“

You dropped your jaw. The curse words were much louder now, you could practically play a game of word chain all on your own.

“You fainted in the middle of it. He was expecting you to hang on and finish the presentation,” she went on. “But you didn’t.”

Minho’s heart dropped. So he didn’t finish it after all.

“What the fuck–“ you pursed your lips, never mind that you already cursed anyway, and you pulled yourself away from Minho. You were angry, possibly even beyond that. How could his father be so apathetic towards his son’s health? Looking down at Minho, the tears brimming at his waterline made your inside burn, it felt like you were the one being neglected and unfairly treated.

You sucked in a breath, your eyes blinking rapidly for no reason (it’s for comedic purposes). Then suddenly, you smiled and pointed your index finger towards the door. “I think I left the faucet on so I am just gonna go turn that off, okay? You two talk. I am gonna go.”

Your behavior was abnormal at best, which honestly, the other two in the room would have thought they would be used to it by now. Before any of them could open their mouth, and before your cowardly mind decided to not do anything about this situation, you dashed out of the door and headed downstairs. You flung the doors open dramatic and, very angrily, growled when you saw the overly expensive car parked out at the driveway. Rushing outside, you made a stupid of appearing by the driver’s seat. When the driver rolled down the window, you breathed out an annoyed sigh, feeling like your anger was about to explode in a pit of curses and tears.

What the–piece of shit! Why buy an expensive car if you aren’t going to drive it yourself? Useless, showoff, pointless, worthless, a waste of money! Nobody thinks you’re cool, you hag, you can’t even drive and you conform to the discriminative lifestyle of capitalism!

That was also personal, but the floor is yours.

“[Name]?”

“Y–yeah?”

Damn! You have been doing so well up until now but you really are all bark and no bite! Your anger immediately dissolved when you met eyes with the tall, old man who exited on the passenger side of the car. You gasped. He looked so much nicer than you expected he would. If you didn’t know the title he holds, you would not have felt this intimidated.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking over to you.

“I live here. What the hell are you talking about?” you retorted. When you noticed a change of his expression, you cleared your throat, inhaled deeply, and calmed yourself down to conjure up some coherent sentences. “I am here to ask you politely to visit Minho, who is your son, which means he is your flesh and blood–“ you squinted your eyes and turned your face away slightly–“because he is your child, like, he is your son?”

He furrowed his brows at you and he sighed curiously. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I will be if you can follow me and go see if Minho is doing okay,” you said, smiling.

There was a knowing look on his face, then he dipped his head to look at the ground for a moment. When he looked back up, he shook his head. “No. I am very disappointed in him right now and I am afraid I will say what I don’t mean when I see him.”

“Disappointed about what? The fact that he got sick?” you retorted.

“I gave him one job and he embarrassed me in front of a lot of people tonight,” he said, “You wouldn’t understand, [Name].”

“You wouldn’t understand, [Name]!” Was what you imagine you replied, with a tone so ridiculously disrespectful he may pop a vein big enough to cause a heart attack, but you didn’t. You opened your mouth but only air came out as you carefully analyzed what he actually meant. This man wanted to say you don’t understand what it is like to be a functional member of society and work for money because you lay around at home all day, draining Minho’s bank account, as if he didn’t take part in that decision. 

Well then, he has got another thing coming because you used to be in the workforce as well! You used to work day and night, and even then you could never achieve the kind of luxury his family has, so honestly, you’ve got the upper-hand in this argument. You just needed to find a way to tell him you do know how hard work is without actually telling him that you’ve ever worked before!

So basically you’re not telling him anything at all.

Holding in an outburst, you forced a smile and clapped your hands together so you wouldn’t end up strangling an elder. “Maybe I don’t understand, but I do know that Minho worked really hard for this opportunity,” you said, pleaded even. “The reason why he fainted was that he didn’t let himself rest at all preparing for the presentation. You can’t disregard his effort just like that. You are his father, where is your care?”

“You’re bold to be talking to me like this,” he said after a moment of silence, his tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he meant that as a compliment or not. “But no. This is work. This is about his future and how he will handle the company when I am gone. I can’t act as his father in a situation like this.”

You were rendered speechless. It was either you smack some sense into him or you talk some sense into him, but it seemed like you weren’t smart enough to talk to him so that left the more physical option. You shivered. You weren’t ready to be put in jail yet, so the physical option was out the window too.  

You bit your lower lip. But Minho—he worked so hard for this, and you were there to watch him work like hell for it. If he was bedridden and couldn’t do anything about this, you thought you could at least try a little harder for his sake. But how? How could you explain it more clearly to him that he should give Minho another chance?

Time’s ticking, [Name]. Try thinking a little bit faster. I’ll even drop you a hint. Since you’ve been there with him as he prepared for the presentation, surely you would know where Minho placed his materials?

You gasped, a light-bulb going off in your eyes. Wordlessly, you spun on your heels and left the old man standing there in confusion, watching your back as you bolted back into the house. You slammed the doors shut, kicked off the shoes you did not bother to wear properly, and you rushed upstairs. Stopping abruptly before the workroom you were so used to being in, you opened the door and went straight to the desk where there was a stack of papers.

You may not have known what he worked on exactly, but you did remember complaining about the number of papers Minho was using back then. You told him something about trees dying and he only laughed, already used to ignoring you and your tendencies to ramble about anything. There has got to be some information contained in that pile of papers he printed. You didn’t know what was in there but it wouldn’t be your job to look through them. It would be his father’s.

You grabbed the whole pile, scooping it up into your hands after scanning it quickly, and you rushed out of the door like a madman. Your steps echoed throughout the hall and you quickly walked downstairs, preparing to head outside when the housekeeper stopped you with an incredulous look on her face.

She looked you up and down, concerned, and she asked, “What are you doing running around like that?”

“I need to show Mr.Lee something,” you urged, glancing out the doors.

“Mrs.Lee? I’m pretty sure they’re leaving. Mrs.Lee just left the house!”

Here we go! We’ve all seen the running in slow motion part in dramas, it was about time your turn comes up.

You gasped out a curse, surprised at how much this shit does not make sense because you really thought you were only in the workroom for less than one minute and you never bumped into his mother when you walked back into the house! Granted, the house was huge, but you knew its map enough to know that if Minho’s mom was leaving, you’d at least saw a glimpse of her! How could she possibly be out of the house already? Through the window? Through teleportation? Through—Jesus Christ, [Name], less rambling and more running!

You went for the door and yelled when you saw the taillights of the car flash red. Whatever that meant, you didn’t know, you never learned how to drive! But you supposed it meant the car was being started and they were about to leave this place, so your legs paddled even quicker than before. You got down the porch of the house and sped through the long driveway, your hand clutching the papers closer to your chest.

You ran, and you tripped! On nothing! You groan at your inability to keep your feet on the ground as you scrambled up and continued running. At this point, you were just trying your best to be thankful that your tripping-during-an-emergency scene didn’t involve running away from serial killers or deformed monsters. 

“Wait! Wait a second! Stop driving, car driver!” you hollered as you, miraculously, moved past the car and stopped right before the tip of the vehicle.

It came to a screeching stop. The driver looking at you with wide, shocked eyes as sweat rolled down the side of his face. The headlights were blinding your eyes but you kept them open for intimidating purposes this time, and you huffed out in triumph when both his parents walked out of the car in complete awe at your action. It’s not admirable, just insane. 

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“Here, take this,” you said as you shoved the pile of papers into Mr.Lee’s hands. “It’s his proposal. I don’t know how much of it is in here but it’s your job to look through it.”

He gave you an annoyed glare. “I already said–“

“I don’t care what you already said,” you mocked through heavy pants. When you calmed down, you grimaced. “I am telling you this as an intellectual. You should never let any opportunity slip from your hands. Just because Minho never got to present the idea does not mean he doesn’t have a good idea. You have eyes and a brain, look through it and see for yourself.”

You were glaring at him, not in a hateful way but more so in hopes that you could pressure him into accepting your suggestion. To be fair, you did make a good point, as much as he didn’t want to admit. Oh, and of course, you got in front of a moving car just to get him to look through Minho’s proposal, which has the be the more heart-attack inducing than anything you could have said this night. 

Looking down at the papers in his hands, he let out a low gruff and finally nodded. “Fine. Now get back inside, I wanna go home!”

You let out a breath you did not know you were holding—ah, yes, that breath—and clapped your hands together in a delightful beam. Finally! All those running and panicking and raging were worth this moment of acceptance, or at least the half-way point of acceptance! After bidding both of the elderlies goodbye, you quickly rushed back into the house with the two eyeing your back.

“Say,” Mr.Lee began, eyes squinting, “have they always been like this?”

“Yeah,” his wife nodded, “you just never pay attention.” 

She’s right. He never does. How he became a CEO was beyond anyone, even me. 

“Hey, I got you some food,” you said when you nudged open the door with your food after struggling to remove your hand from the wooden food tray just to twist the doorknob. The housekeeper had pulled you back in the living room and made you take the Minho’s dinner with you, figuring he would appreciate seeing you more than anyone else at the moment.

Minho turned to you, his eyes unfocused and his thought process uninterrupted. He was still drowning in a saddened state of mind; his whole body felt heavy from both the fever and the shame he felt from disappointing his father. Trying his best to clear his sight, he managed to send you a very faint smirk as you approached.

After clearing out space on the nightstand, you carefully set the wooden tray down and pulled the chair closer to the bed, the one you sat on when he was still out cold. You sat down, clapped your hands, and went ahead to grab the bowl of chicken porridge so you could hand it to him.

Minho looked at you, and down at the bowl, and he blinked in bafflement. As he reached his finger up to point at himself, he finally breathed out a short chuckle. “Am I supposed to eat it myself?”

“Am I supposed to eat it for you?” you asked, widening your eyes pointedly as you pushed your arm forward a little more for emphasis.

He huffed in disbelief, “But I’m sick.”

“So eat your dinner! You can’t have your medicine on an empty stomach,” you urged, grabbing the spoon and stirring the sticky substances in the bowl. 

Minho pouted. He grabbed the spoon and lazily messed around with the food. He scooped a spoonful of porridge, seemingly raising it to his mouth but gave up half-way. The spoon deliberately dropped back into the bowl with a grimace from him. You furrowed your brows. Part of you thought this quiet tantrum came from him being upset about what happened, but coming from experience (you’ve got an annoying friend back home), you knew what he was actually trying to say. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat. Standing up, you went to sit on the edge of his bed instead, giving yourself better access to him. His fingers loosened from the spoon when you took over, and his hands neatly interacted by his abdomen. You almost laughed at his quick response. Tapping the spoon by the edge of the bowl, you moved your body forward and stopped the spoon right before his mouth, muttering something about being careful of the heat.

“You know you’ve got hands that can move, right?” you complained, stirring the porridge again.

“I just wanted you to feed me, is it really that hard?” Minho groaned. “I’m really tired!”

“Well, I am doing it right now, aren’t I?” you exclaimed, bringing the spoon to him. “Say ‘ah!’”

He suppressed a grin, complying with your patience as you fed him the porridge. The annoyed creasing of your forehead gradually faded into concentration, waiting, and making sure he was fed well. You did it exactly how your mother used to do it when you were younger, but instead of you asking for food to be fed to you, your mother was the one who insisted you don’t do anything.

Neither of you said anything. It was all just the spoon hitting against the bowl and the occasional blowing you did on the hot porridge that was getting cooler by the second. The silence gave Minho the time needed to think. He was much calmer than he was before, back when his mother was talking to him and you were out causing a ruckus, and he’s got a clearer head to reflect on everything that has happened.

It just felt like such a waste of time. His thoughts, his ideas, his research, his preparations; everything he spent time perfecting just reduced to ashes because of an unforeseen circumstance, one that he couldn’t control. He has nothing to blame but nature, which wasn’t tangible enough for him to feel like he was blaming something for his failure. And if that was how it would be then he’d much rather blame himself for not hanging on until the end.

But it was all sharp feelings and venom dripping from his heart. Shame and disappointment, failure and incompetence. He couldn’t stop it; how could he stop what his heart produces? He runs on it. If it stops, he stops, so he chose pain over nothing.

You paused your movements when you saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He started sniffling, crying, quietly and freely. Somehow you could sense this happening. You did see his eyes reddening as seconds went by, but you hadn’t thought about what you would do at a time like this. What should you do? Anything to keep him distracted, or nothing so he could let it all out at once?

You didn’t stop feeding him the porridge, but you had changed up the pace of giving him food and wiping the tears from his face using your fingers. He crying intensified at your gentle touch. He had spent so long crafting himself to be this undamageable being because he expected to be injured; the unfathomable concept of human delicacy at the wake of his vulnerability broke him.

You waited patiently, for him to eat and cry until the bowl was wiped clean and you have to put it back on the tray. Taking the glass of water that was already cool, you hummed, “I should probably get another glass. I’ll get you something warm to drink down the medicine with.”

“No, it’s okay.” Minho shook his head and reached over to your hand so he could take the pill and the water. His crying has ceased by now, but his puffy eyes a harsh reminder of the gentle breakdown he had just experienced. “Stay here with me.”

You stayed, watching him gulp down the water like he hasn’t drunk anything in years. And somehow, you thought this should be the time to bring what you and his mother talked about up to him. Putting a hand on his leg, you sucked in a breath and asked, “So, Minho… do you still dance now?”

He choked on his water, his eyes widening and then narrowing at your sudden question. He pulled the glass away from him, droplets rolling from the surface of his lips as he denied with a questioning noise. “What–no!”

“Oh, wow, you are more defensive about this than I thought you would be,” you muttered under your breath. “Were you bad at it? Your mom told you were good but I can’t really trust her with the biasing opinion going on, you know? And I just can’t seem to recall a time when I saw you dance!”

“I’m not telling you anything about that.” He shook his head, placing the glass of water down on the nightstand, almost slamming it because of your unbelievable question.

“Okay fine, I have videos anyway.” You shrugged, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. You clicked on it a few times, puckering your lips for comedic effect. “I asked your mom for it and she sent me a ton of them–“

“Oh my god, no!” Minho reached out for your phone, only to have you stand up from the bed with a sinister laugh. He was just about to rise from the bed and tackle you with his heavy body, but he caught you you glancing up at him from the screen with a deadpan look, and he stopped. “What?”

“I lied. I did ask her about the videos but she hasn’t sent me anything yet,” you said. “I thought she said you really liked dancing. Why are you so embarrassed about it?”

He sat back and leaned against the pillow, squeezing his eyes right as you recalled the older days when he would feel so accomplished just having the spotlight shine on him up on stage. Those were better days, not that his life was ever full of real problems when his parents’ wealth was able to tackle just about anything. 

Heaving a sigh, he shrugged. “I did love dancing. I just stopped doing that now, and I think I kind of lost it.”

“How do you know if you don’t try dancing now?” you exclaimed, moving over to the nightstand and dropping your phone down on the nightstand. Minho could only hear the tune playing after a while when you suddenly started to spin and twirl.

“I’m probably bad–what are you–what are you doing?” he asked between puffs of laughter, his eyes unable to move away from your swaying body as you hummed the song under your breath.

The smile physically could not leave his face as he watched your terrible movements; his dancer-brain was registering how bad your style was but his lover-brain was much more overwhelming with how he found your presence endearing to be around.

“Dancing. Jamming to songs,” you replied in a sing-song manner, moving from one end of the room to another. “You were saying?”

“I said I’m probably bad at dancing now,” he said. “Kind of like you are.”

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Offended? Slightly, but he was true. You were horrible at dancing, you’ve got two left feet and you couldn’t distinguish between left and right when you danced. But the fact that you sucked at it didn’t bring you down. It wasn’t like you ever have to perform in front of people anyway! There is no routine, no beat to match up, no eyes judging you. 

You are dancing for yourself when you dance badly because that is the only time you are allowed to dance badly. And that alone is good enough for you.

“Oh, please.” You stopped on your spot to look at him, pointing at him as if to give him a lecture. “I’ll have you know that the bad dancing is the best kind of dancing. It’s when nobody is watching you and you feel the freest.”

“But I am watching you right now,” Minho argued, pointing at himself.

You hummed. You almost forgot about that, or perhaps you didn’t. Your mind just didn’t care if he was watching or not. You weren’t afraid of what Minho would say because you knew he would never give you criticism with the intention to harm. It would be playful, witty, a pain in the ass kind of comment that you could deflect immediately with a funny glare. But, ultimately, you knew Minho wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Right,” you muttered. “You are.”

Ever heard of the term ‘dance like nobody is watching’? It is always much easier said than done, isn’t it? Dancing has always been about expressing, to move in a way that allows your body to breathe and your heart to burn. It is unlike any other sport where you are either good or bad; it is subjective and intimate because of how artistic its expression is. And it takes a great deal of courage to show it to somebody else, freely, without a doubt.

You just found someone who makes you dance like nobody is watching.  

You smiled at Minho softly, closing in on the bed and getting on top. He raised a brow at you as you straddled his lap, looking at him with determined eyes as you asked, “Was my dancing that bad?”

He thought for a second before he nodded. “Yeah, super.”

“Now that I’ve shown you my dancing, would you show me yours?” you asked, “When you get better, of course.”

He nodded again. “Sure, if you want to.”

“Good,” you smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” he said, “but better.”

Minho stared at you when your eyes moved up to his head, and when your hand reached up to fix his bangs again, he felt closer to you. It was so weird; he was just laughing and you were just dancing, and now you have set yourself on top of him with your fingers drowned in his locks and all he could do was stare while feeling like he could part oceans and move mountains for you.

He grabbed ahold of your hand and gently pulled you forward towards him. Your faces were close now, inches apart, and breathes mingled. You could feel the brush of his lips, ghosting over yours, and your heart jumped up to your ear where the thumping begins rashly. And his eyes were beautiful, visible, with pools of stars where your face was imprinted on top drowning within.

This has never happened to you before, you were too stunned to react. But your heart knew that it needed to melt for you to understand, for you to see how deeply Minho was in love with you because it could feel it. The heart could always feel it; even if it deceives you with the surface sometimes, its rooted truth will always come back to you.

“Minho…?” you called out, timidly and softly.

For the split second, Minho remembered how back then when he wasn’t ready to love and love wasn’t ready for him.

How miserable he used to be compared to who he has turned himself into now, his effort not going to complete waste in the face of your acceptance and willingness to forgive. How exhausted he used to be when all he has in mind was work and when he had to pretend to be in love, and now it comes so easily to him, it is natural and daily. How he wanted to do so many things with you now, like traveling or trying new food or sleeping on the same bed together.

“Would you let me kiss you?” he asked in a whisper, his hand tightening around yours because the proximity was driving him crazy. “After I get better.”

You giggled, nodding while you moved to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose instead. “Yes.”

“And you can give me the ring back?” you asked, grinning down at him. And you thought that soon, soon your palpitating heart would become such a normal way of life that you wouldn’t even notice it when it starts to pick up its pace at the sight of Minho.

He nodded, breathing out a chuckle. “Of course.”

Minho is ready to love now, so are you. And love? Love is ready for both of you as well.

Wouldn’t it be the worst thing to find out you forgot your lunch at home after hours of anticipation for lunchtime to roll over? Wouldn’t it be the worst thing, Minho? Yeah, who told you to leave home in such a hurry this morning? Not only did you forget to bid [Name] farewell, you left your lunch right on the counter as well.

“Who the fuck–“ he cursed under his breath as he looked up at the ceiling of his office, his brows furrowed in annoyance. His mood already went down drastically after realizing he couldn’t find his lunch anywhere in his office, he did not need his inner voice insulting him like that as well.

Looking around his desk, he pouted slightly before he stood up. He grabbed his car keys from the drawer, deciding to check his car and hope that he would find it in there somehow, and headed out. If there was no lunch in the car then he’d just have to grab some food at a nearby restaurant, which was something he hasn’t done in some time since you have started preparing his lunch.

I would save you some time and tell you straight that you wouldn’t find your lunch in your car but you didn’t feel like listening to your inner voice so I guess I would just sit back and watch you fumble around with irritated groans leaving your—still—unkissed lips.

Minho slammed his car door shut and locked it by aggressively pressing on the button on the key.

Oh–oh? You think that’s bad? I hope you didn’t forget whose finger was still ringless, Minho.

“Jesus,” he puffed out a string of air, putting his hands on his hips and eyeing up at the sky suspiciously. First day back at work after recovering from the fever and waiting to make sure it went away and he’s hearing random voices in his head, sending him personal attacks?

After making the promise of kissing you when he was healed up, he never found the right time to actually do it. Most of the time, the moment was either ruined by best friends calling your phone or housekeepers knocking on the door, or the timing was awkward. And both you and him would be left dry and red from embarrassment and not getting your first, genuine kiss.  

He shook off his thoughts as he walked back into the building. The air-conditioning blasting against his skin as he walked through the lobby.

“Minho!”

He froze on his spot. That was his father’s voice, he could recognize, obviously. Why was he calling him? Maybe he should keep walking and pretend he didn’t hear anything, the classic method. He wasn’t ready to see his father yet, especially after what happened at the gathering. Before he could even think about an escape plan, his name was called again, and he was forced to turn around and confront his anxiety this time.

“Hey, dad,” he greeted calmly, dipping his head politely as he did so.

“Are you feeling better now?” His father asked after a moment of thought.

Minho nodded. “Yeah. Much better. Thank you for asking.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. This tension started growing as he did until at a certain age, it just got so obvious that it became impossible for Minho to ignore the fact that it was hard for him to communicate with his father just as father and son anymore, and the tension stayed until now. It was unlikely that it would fade until his father started growing older significantly, leading the cycle to bounce backward.

His father cleared his throat and looked away as if he had done something wrong, which he had, but he was here to fix it now. “Back at that night when you fainted, I originally said I wasn’t going to give you a chance to pitch your idea again because of what happened during the gathering,” he started, “But [Name] gave me your project materials and told–demanded me to look over it.”

Minho let out a questioning noise, his brows raising in surprise. Seeing his reaction, his father laughed with an approving nod.

“They made quite the commotion, actually. Ran in front of the car to stop me from leaving,” he said. “But they got me. I read through the materials and they were right, it is too good of an opportunity for me to let pass.”

“Huh?” Minho blinked at his father, his head leaning forward slightly in confusion. He was still trying to process what his father just said about you running in front of a car, and here he was getting his hopes up by talking as if he would be given another chance.

“I’ll let you have it this time,” his father said. “If you can present the idea again at the weekly meeting then we’ll consider it together.”

The hope in Minho soared when it became a reality. His lips slowly quirked into a smile, trying not to act too childish in the face of a second chance. He could freely pump his fist and celebrate when he gets time alone later, for now, he needed to keep a straighter face and accept the chance granted to him. He nodded. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, dad!”

Casting his eyes behind his father for a moment, Minho was able to catch sight of you looking lost outside the building, much to his surprise. The joy in his heart died down for a moment as he squinted his eyes to look better, and when his father too turned around to look at what he was seeing, he laughed.

“Oh, that’s [Name],” he pointed. “Not gonna lie, they creep me out after what happened.”

Minho placed a hand on his father’s shoulder, the amused frown on his face unnoticed as he brushed past him to walk towards you. You seemed to have noticed him when he did, your face brightening when you saw him walking towards you at a quick pace. The little excitement dimmed when it felt like he wasn’t slowing down his pace even though the distance between you both were closing rapidly, and you tilted your head in confusion until he was within reach and suddenly engulfed you in a tight hug.

“Oh–yeah, I got your lunch, dummy,” you giggled as you reached one hand around his shoulder to pat his back. “You don’t have to be this happy about it.”

“You never told me you talked to my dad about my presentation,” he said when he pulled away, an excited beam permanent in his eyes as he grinned down at you like a child. “He said he looked over my stuff and he gave me another chance to present it at the end of this week.”

A chuckle left your lips, a relieved one. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought about that night after it happened, considering you have been spending all the time with Minho, and the bickering and chattering you two did often get your mind off everything else but him. It was probably better that way anyway, it saved you the trouble of worrying. Hearing the good news now was quite a surprise, but you were quick to give him a wide smile.

“That’s great! Do you remember what you have prepared before?” you asked, punching his arm lightly.

Minho laughed, “No but I’ve got some time to prepare.”

“Oh good,” you said, then you suggested. “You know you can practice it on me, right? I might not know what you’re talking about but I can give you presentation pointers.”

He looked down at you, tilting his head and nodding in approval. Why did he think to do that before when he was first preparing for it? It wasn’t like you were really reading the book in your hands anyway, he should have taken the opportunity to ask you for some criticisms. “Don’t go easy on me then.” He shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes at him, a sign that screamed something along the lines of “like hell I will.”

“Oh, and thank you for bringing me my lunch,” he said, holding the box in his hands. “Do you wanna have lunch together since you’re here?”

“I can’t, I told Changbin I was gonna hang out with him today,” you said, your voice lowering timidly because you completely forgot to mention that to Minho. If he hadn’t forgotten his lunch box, you would have texted him about this and waited for the possible tantrum he would give you for ditching him the whole day. “We’re getting dinner today too so I might be back later than usual.”

The frown on Minho’s face was hard to ignore; his forehead creasing and his lips quirking down in an annoyingly attractive way. He wasn’t mad, though, just a slight hint of irritation that you would be spending the whole day, likely a very fun day, with Changbin while he has to be stuck at work and hearing nothing from you. He felt a little left out, which was weird because he just spent four days straight with you, stuck at home and wasting the hours away.

Perhaps he was being just a little bit possessive, so he planned to just let it go. He could hear about your day at the end of it when you get back home and pace around in his room telling him about everything in an animated way. Let’s hope you stay in his room overnight this time because oh, Minho, your progress was not looking so good.

No kiss, no ring, and still have not slept in the same bed yet. Baffling, absolutely baffling.

“Are you mad?” you asked when you saw him glare at the ground. “I can come back for dinner if you want me to.”

“No, I’m fine.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke with closed eyes. “It’s just… I keep hearing things today, it’s weird. It’ll probably go away tomorrow or even later today. I hope it is later today.”

“Hearing things?” You raised a brow at him, looking away and looking back. Then you laughed, “Did you go someplace haunted? Are you thinking maybe it’s a ghost?”

“Funny. If I get possessed, the first soul I am taking is yours,” he said, feigning amusement.

“I’m joking. Maybe you are still feeling a little tired from the fever? It’s unlikely but what’s not possible at this point?” you mumbled the last part to yourself, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Drink more water and take care of yourself, okay?”

Minho nodded with a smile, covering your hand with his own and pressing it to his cheek just for the sake of having you close. The same white background descended back upon you two, the one that drowned out everybody else and where time worked differently than reality. Aside from that, this fantasy background was also a very good backdrop for a kiss scene so maybe one of you would want to take the first step and give the other a farewell kiss.

“I will,” he said. “I need to go back now. Just because my dad owns the company doesn’t mean I get to slack off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight,” he muttered.

And very casually, even though he felt like his insides would explode any minute, Minho leaned his head down and captured your lips for a very brief moment. He pulled away almost immediately after kissing you as he just touched a sacred land he wasn’t worthy enough to put his claim on yet. When he saw those wide, fascinated eyes of yours, he only fell deeper into the shy hole he dug for himself on the spot.

“Was that bad?” he asked, “Was that weird?”

You laughed, snapping out of your trance and quickly shaking your head. You squished his cheek, your fingers weak from the chaste kiss but you needed something to do. “No, it was fine, maybe a little unexpected but it was fine,” you told him.

Yeah, that did nothing to comfort him. He could only feel the shyness growing in his chest as he stood next to you longer. Bringing his hands up to his chest, where the bento box was pushed against, he uttered out a string of words that you could faintly piece together as a farewell before he turned around and left for the building.

Ah, no good, no good! Minho stopped on his track and breathed in deeply to cool himself. He probably should not have done that, now his mind was going to be completely occupied with you for the whole day! The feeling of your soft lips, the light medicinal taste of your chapstick, the way your noses brushed against each other, how you tightened your grip on his jaw in a moment of surprise—everything! Oh, he would miss you the whole day too if that was the case.

And he would love to see you earlier tonight. Maybe he should speak up about you having dinner with Changbin.

Looking up, he headed over to the reception table and asked the staff behind the table to hold onto his lunch box for him before he quickly left the building once again in hopes you catch up to you, wherever you went after he left. Reaching into his pocket and dialing your number, he pressed his phone to his ears just in time to find you standing around the corner of the street near the road. He hummed, shifting his eyes to find that Yuna was next to you as well.

The closer he got, the more his brows furrowed. You two didn’t seem to be having a very decent conversation and he could almost hear Yuna’s screaming voice from where he was walking. He picked up his pace then, concerned about what could have possibly happened between the five minutes of you and him separating by the company doors.

You could not hear a single word she was saying. It was all gibberish to you despite you trying to listen to your fullest capability, but you had a sense of what she was trying to say. It has got to be something about Minho. She would never willingly pick a conversation with you unless it was about him, unfortunately. Yuna genuinely seemed like a nice girl, a little spoiled and too obsessed, but she wasn’t evil.

You planned to give her the space to vent as much as she wanted before talking to her, but you didn’t know that your utter silence only infuriated her more. Growling under her breath, she glared her wide eyes at you, and, abruptly, she shot her arms forward and gave you an unexpected shove. You cursed at the impact, your back hitting against the lamppost and causing you to stumble away. Your feet met the curb of the pedestrian street and you yelped when you slipped off the street and fell on the road.

Moments like these are hauntingly familiar. You have seen it more times than one, like many other moments you have experienced in this world. The two big words ‘car crash’ engraved in your head, whispering and shouting at you to get up your goddamn feet because five seconds later or so, a car with either a careless driver or a broken brake would come beeping at you. Quickly, [Name]! Move! Get up!

Minho was running towards your direction now, feeling slightly relieved that you started to scramble back up on your feet, but that breath of fresh air quickly choked on his throat when he heard those loud car honks coming from the other side of the street. His heart jumped at the pace of his feet, rapid and piercing, as he ran down the street to where you were.

Questions zapped through his mind: should he grab you back to the street? Should he tackle you both to the other side? Should he shield you from the impact? Any way would be fine as long as you only get a scrape of the knee out of it, really, but which one would work at such a short period?

The were tire screeches, a few honks crashed, and then there were screams from people.

The push at your side was strong, like back when you were younger how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. It has the intention to push you away. You got up from the ground, a pained sob escaping your lips when you saw that both your palms were scraped and bleeding.

“No,” you huffed out, tears already welling in your face.

If you were fine, then it would mean that—

Ignoring the help from others, you turned around without bothering to stand up, and your eyes widened in the glistening of tears when you saw the blood rolling down the side of his head.

—Minho wasn’t.

[justatypicalwizard]

Wants Within | S. Shinazugawa | Chapter 15

✦ Sanemi Shinazugawa x femReader!, college au, reader is adult

✦ Synopsis: You're a college student taking classes with a very strict lecturer- professor Shinazugawa. Because of an unfortunate event you got on his bad side so now you're trying everything to regain in his eyes. Well, you most certainely didn't expect that kind of attention.

✦ Word count: 2,1k

18+, minors do not interact

''Can we also stay in touch?'' He asked out of the blue.

''Huh?'' You were taken aback. Why did so many people want to be friends with you today? ''I mean, uh, I don't know what to say.'' You scratched your head in embarrassment and Zenitsu looked at his shoes, his cheeks bright red. ''Why would you want that? I'm a weird person, doing... weird, you know what I mean, things and you only met me like a few hours ago.''

He didn't look at you, instead he gave the sky a longing glance. You heard him inhale deeply and a wheezing sound came out as he exhaled.

''We, I mean me and my friends that you met, are also a bit weird.'' He was talking quietly. ''Maybe we don't look like that but... mmm, uh, I don't know. You just clicked.'' Zenitsu crossed his arms on his chest. ''I don't have a lot of friends and I don't want to miss the opportunity to find someone that... doesn't... make fun of... me.'' The last part was merely a whisper.

You looked at him, his stance was off, like he was trying to hide within himself. His cheeks were red, eyes averting your gaze and his breath heavy, it was obvious he was trying to keep his ventilation steady. He must have been very anxious.

''So you would want to be friends even after I tell you that I lied to Tanjiro about that exercise, that I used him to get to you just to talk to you?'' You didn't have the heart to lie to him.

''I wouldn't be brave enough to do something like that... but if I could I would do the same in your situation.'' The blonde finally looked at you and you saw no malice in his eyes.

''Wow, you're something!'' Feeling the air lighten you cracked a small smile.

Maybe keeping close to the group wouldn't be such a nuisance in the end. At least you would have an eye on them... and you could really make some new friends.

''If you'll really accept me like that, then why not. Let's give it a chance.'' You took out your hand for him. ''I'm Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.''

He shook your hand with a small smile and the two of you took off, chatting a bit before you went your way.

Little did you know that someone was watching you from the university window, wondering what the two of you could be talking about.

-

Later on you met with Shinazugawa. You came to his office and he closed the door behind you.

''And what?'' He didn't even say any 'hello'.

''I talked to him.'' You answered.

''... and?'' He was very impatient.

''And he said he won't tell anyone because it's not his business. You told me that in his opinion I don't get any university related benefits from... that, so he doesn't care what I do in my free time.''

Shinazugawa gave you a glance, leaning on the office desk. He sighed deeply, undoing yet another button of his shirt and grabbing a paper to fan himself. He obviously lost his cool here. You understanded him damn well. You could just change universities, he could lose his hard earned career.

''I will also stay in contact with these guys.'' You added after a moment of silence. ''I don't want to spy on them or anything like that, they seem cool and asked me out.''

The whitehaired gave you another, raised brow look.

''They asked you out? The only thing that you do is work and study.'' Ouch, that hurt.

''Well, yes, they did. Actually one dude asked for my phone number and the blonde one told me personally that he would like to know me.'' You started to defend your hurt ego.

You didn't know what was going on in Shinazugawa's head because he paused for a second, just looking at you. Then, he straightened out and came closer to you. His lips met your in a semi-passionate kiss. His body kept it cool, not particularly touching you but his tongue told otherwise. It was exploring your lips like the other night.

You were out of your mind, enjoying the moment way too much. He was just so absorbing, so handsome, well built and cocky. Placing your hands on his chest you felt his muscles. A moan escaped your lips and you jumped away from him in fear.

''Too loud!'' You whisper shouted, cupping your mouth.

''You idio... nevermind. The doors and walls are soundproof. Like in any other place at the university. If they weren't everyone would hear everyone else. Imagine writing a test like that.'' He said.

Oh, that makes sense.

You nodded your head feeling blood rushing to your cheeks. Once again you came out stupid in front of him.

''But I'm happy to see, you are concerned about the right things.'' Shinazugawa went back to his desk and sat on his chair motioning for you to do the same.

Taking the place in front of him, you looked him in the eye, not knowing what was going on.

''Was that a one-time thing?'' The whitehaired asked you in a serious tone.

''I... I don't know.'' You were honest with him, you had no idea.

''Okay, than what would you say if I told you that I wouldn't want it to be a one-time thing.'' He looked you dead in the eye.

Your breath got trapped in your throat as you processed what he just said. Your mind was screaming yes and no at the same time. You wanted it badly, your crush on him still painfully present, but the fear of getting caught...

''I'll give you time to think about it, you don't need to answer me now. I just wanted to tell you that if you want I can give you my personal phone number, you wouldn't have to be scared of writing. Also the New Year's Eve was unfortunate, but we could be... more careful next time.'' Something behind his eyes made you nod your head.

''But why?'' The question slipped out of your lips before you could think.

Yet it was so important to you. Why did he want to have such a relationship with you? He was a godly-looking young man with a great career and could have someone way better than a Patric the Starfish-looking, broke student.

He was about to say something but the door swung open. Professor Rengoku came in with a bright smile plastered on his face.

''Shinazugawa, may I ask about...'' He spotted you.

The two of you blinked a few times at each other.

''Well hello there young lady.'' He greeted you.

''Rengoku you don't have to be like that, and please, close the door.'' Shinazugawa sighed, the open, kinda tender side you saw just a moment before was long gone. ''He knows Miss Y/N.''

Your jaw dropped to the ground and you felt like Professor Rengoku's gaze changed. It was of course just your feeling because the energetic man didn't hold anything against the whole situation. Moreover, he was happy for his friend! You looked like such a nice and caring girl.

-

The blonde made his way through the university hallways, smiling at everyone. Students smiled back at him and greeted wherever he would go. He felt pure love for this place.

It was another beautiful sunny day, even though it was winter, there was literally no sun, and it was freezing cold outside. Nevertheless, the sun never set in Rengoku's heart! He loved his job, he loved the students, he loved his friends. He was a ball of good energy that rubbed on anyone he would encounter. Because of that the world treated him with the same amount of love, or at least that's what he would say to himself.

As he made his way around the campus, he saw a familiar figure. You were standing in front of a lecture room. Other people were standing in groups, chatting and laughing, but you were all alone. Your only company was the science book in your hand.

Rengoku felt as if someone hit him in the face. He was just about to go to you and ask if by any means your day wasn't absolutely fabulous, and if not, how could he help you change it, but someone stopped him.

A group of girls circled you and started ranting about something. You quickly caught up on the topic, smiling and laughing. After a short while you all waved you goodbyes and they went on, leaving you with the book again.

So you weren't all alone, you were just studying.

Another slap in the face, this time from a memory. He saw his best friend, sitting in the cafeteria alone, studying something as he was eating. He was always so serious and focused on his work, even though he was so much fun, at least for Rengoku. In Rengoku's mind you and Sanemi looked alike.

He felt his chest rise and an electric shock bolt through his spine. Right now, he knew what he had to do.

Maybe Shinazugawa wasn't the one to ask for help but that didn't mean he didn't need it. When the whitehaired asked Rengoku what he thought about the one-night stand with you he didn't think much about it. It was okay, why not, you were pretty. What really questioned him was, why Shinazugawa started to maintain a relationship with you. Rengoku had a feeling that the answer was quite obvious.

He decided that he would talk to Sanemi the very same day.

Later on Rengoku found his way to Shinazugawa's office and not expecting anyone in particular he slammed the door open.

''Shinazugawa, may I ask about...''

There you were, sitting beside Sanemi's desk, looking at Rengoku as if you saw a ghost. The only thing that the blonde wanted to do was to pat your head, hug you to his muscular chest and tell you that everything will be okay, that Professor Rengoku is here and will help you with whatever problem you've got so that the light in your heart never fades. But that would be called sexual harrasment so he restrained himself.

''Well hello there young lady.''

''Rengoku, you don't have to be like that, and please, close the door. He knows Miss Y/N.''

Now you looked like you saw two ghosts and it physically hurt Rengoku that he caused someone such distress.

''It's fine you lady, I'm so very happy to meet you finally.'' He thought to himself that maybe acting like he in fact didn't know would work.

''Uh, good evening... um.'' Much to Rengoku's displeasure the girl got up, packed her stuff and started to leave.

''I'll think about it and I promise to give you an answer soon, professor.'' With that you left.

Sanemi glanced at Rengoku furious for destroying the moment.

''What?'' The blonde asked.

''Why the fuck did you have to pop up at this exact moment. Why the fuck didn't you take the hint and leave.'' The whitehaired standed up, his palms gripping the desk.

''And why are you so angry about me destroying the moment?'' This threw Shinazugawa off the track. He plopped down on the seat with a shocked expression. It was a rare sight to see Sanemi so out of speech. ''Hm?'' Rengoku pursued.

''Nevermind.'' The whitehaired spat out, looking the other way.

''I actually think this is kind of important.'' The blonde smiled a wide grin. ''Tell me Sanemi, why do you risk your career to meet with a girl that you still refer to as only a one-night stand. That one night already passed, you should let it go. Unless, you werent honest when you said she is just a one-night stand. What is so special about her Sanemi?'' Rengoku purred, both of them sitting in Shinazugawa's office after you left. The snow falling in the dark behind the window. ''Does she have a magical vagina? If she does we should have a threesome, I want to see.''

''What?'' Shinazugawa sweatdropped. ''No, her vagina is nor... what are we even talking about!''

''Then why?''

Sanemi realised what game Rengoku was playing and it got on his nerves. Yet, he had to admit, it was something he was thinking about. Why did the thought of you disappearing after you got what you wanted hurt him?

''I don't know.'' The whitehaired sighed.

''Maybe you could use some advice?''

Shinazugawa only glanced from under his messy hair and rolled his eyes.

''Maybe you have a crush?'' The blonde asked.

''I'm not in love.'' Sanemi spat out.

''I don't say it's love. It may be just an innocent crush.'' Rebgoku spread his hands in the air. ''Next time you meet, don't just bang, talk to her.''

''How do you know we will meet next time? You actually came in the middle of her saying if she wants to or not.''

''Let's just say I have a feeling.'' 

SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@secretxchive @vesperazhier

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Somewhere we can be alone

AN: They really got my man out here being an ethereal thot. I don't pretend to be well-versed in Greek mythology, but I tried lol. Strongly considering making this into a series. Let me know if you'd be interested, I have some ideas in mind. Honestly, I didn't even expect to work on this until much later (because I have 600 other works in the drafts), but inspiration struck. Also, yes, I got the title from Love Story by Taylor Swift.

Note: a satyr is the male counter part of a nymph. A dryad is the specific name used to refer to a nature nymph. There's no specific name given to water satyrs, which is why I referred to Soobin just as a water satyr.

Synopsis: As soon as your eyes met those of the blonde spirit, you should've known you were a goner.

Heads up: Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader, Greek mythology AU, Water Satyr! Soobin, Dryad! Reader, star-crossed lovers AU, this is mostly fluff and world building, honestly.

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When your eyes meet with those of the blonde man, you feel as though Kronos himself had stopped time.

You'd never seen him before.

Was he a new satyr? Because surely you'd never forget someone so beautiful if you'd seen him before.

"Is everything okay?" One of your friends asks when they notice you'd halted in your footsteps.

"Who's that?" You ask the group, gesturing towards the blonde man who still had his eyes on you as well.

"Oh, that's Soobin. He's new. I heard the other dryads talking about there being a new satyr in the area. Too bad he's a water satyr," one of your other friends responds.

Of course.

Just your luck.

You just had to become infatuated with a water satyr.

While unions between nature and water spirits weren't exactly immoral, they were heavily frowned upon by not only both groups but even a few of the gods and goddesses as well.

It takes everything in you to finally look away from his warm eyes and continue on your stroll with your friends. It's not as though there was a chance for you two anyways.

The universe is funny, you think, when you bump into that same blonde satyr once more. Soobin. That's his name.

"Hello," he says to you tentatively, and you don't remember the last time you felt this nervous.

"Hi," you respond shyly, looking at everything around you instead of the man right infront of you.

"I-my name is Soobin," he stammers out, and you hate the way affection bubbles up inside of you at how endearing you find his nervousness.

"Y/n," is all you offer in response, but you know you're already treading a dangerous line here just by continuing to talk to him.

"That's a pretty name," was he...flirting with you? Did he not realise the trouble you two could get into if anyone saw you? Or did he just not care?

"Do you not know I'm a dryad?" You blurt out, completely perplexed by this strange, beautiful man.

He does seem taken aback by that. Oh, it seems he didn't know. You know it's completely illogical, and he's a total stranger, but you can't help the sting of disappointment you feel.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. I just saw you the other day and I really wanted to talk to you. If you're uncomfortable around water spirits in general, I understand. Again, I'm sorry," he rushes out, an appealing flush colouring his cheeks.

Wait, he thought he was making you uncomfortable? He wasn't put off by you being a dryad?

"You're not...disgusted to find out I'm a dryad?" You ask tentatively, hands gripping the fabric of your robe tighter than you care to admit as you wait for his answer.

"Are you disgusted that I'm a water satyr?" He fires back at you.

"No," you whisper, and you're being truthful. Frankly, you never understood why there was so much animosity between the two peoples.

"Well, there's your answer," he says with a smile that softens his face in a way that tempts your heart to beat out of your chest.

"Why? Our people despise each other. We'd probably be shunned if they even saw us talking," you ask, genuinely curious. You'd never met a water spirit that hadn't immediately been hostile towards you. You have a suspicion that his experiences have likely been similar.

"Why would I hate people for no reason? Some centuries old feud has nothing to do with me," he says so casually as if that wouldn't get him murdered by his people.

This man, Soobin, was going to be an issue.

"What about you? What's compelled you to continue to keep talking to me?" He asks, his gaze turning curious.

You hesitate for a brief moment. Was this a trick? Could you trust this man you knew virtually nothing about? Either you were an imbecile or he was being genuine, so you answered, "I feel the same way you do. I've never understood the hostility between our peoples."

The smile he shoots you feels like lightning has struck you.

Yes, this man was definitely going to be an issue.

"That's a relief to hear. I'd rather not lose my head for wanting to talk to you," he jokes but, you both knew that was a very real possibility.

"You're very different to other satyrs I've come across. Less...crass," you observe, your expression turning pensive.

That adorable blush rises to his cheeks once more. You've never seen a spirit flush as commonly as a human. It suits him.

"Oh uh, I've been told that. I guess I just don't feel the need to be?" He answers a little unsure, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"It's refreshing," you say candidly. Not as though there's much worse you could say or admit to him now.

"Oh, thank you," he says with another one of this lightning inducing smiles.

"I should probably head back. The Sun will be up soon, and I don't want the other nature spirits wondering where I've been," you say, turning away from him and preparing to leave this entire interaction behind you.

"Wait! Sorry, I just-can I see you again?" Though your back is turned to him, the earnestness is clear as day in his voice.

You shut your eyes for a moment before responding,

"Okay."

[duxearlier]

MIXED FEELING

Neito Monoma x Reader

Synopsis: y/n l/n an ordinary college student who is trying their best to just graduate. Though even if they were quite known around the campus there are still some people who disliked them. One being no other than Neito Monoma. So what happens when they get paired up on a project and he changes y/n's life completely?

warning: swearing, bullying, abuse, drinking, suggestive themes, teasing.

genre: collage au, social media au, no quirks, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff.

taglist: open

CHAPTER EIGHT || WHAT ARE WE?

<chapter seven || materlist || chapter nine>

⚠️TW: This chapter mentions abuse. ⚠️

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

Monoma stared at y/n, blinking once,,twice before speaking up "w-what the fuck?!" He practically yelled, still taken back by y/n showing up to his house like that and also beaten up? Now, he was curious on what the fuck happened to them. "I-its fine if you don't want me here, I'll just leave…it was a stupid idea to show up here-" y/n mumbled and as they were about to turn and leave, Neito spoke up again. "NO- I-i mean- just get your ass in here-" he grumbled, moving aside as y/n stared at him, trying to see if he was lying or not before stepping inside. "You have to tell me what the fuck is happening though" Neito grunts as he noticed how they tensed up. "Just sit the fuck down for now-" he grumbled, making his way to the kitchen as he tried to sort out his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he took some frozen peas out of the freezer before returning back to y/n who surprisingly listened to him and now was sitting onto the couch.

"Here, it will bruise more if you don't do anything about it" he threw the frozen peas at them, watching how they caught them. Y/n gently placed the peas onto their black eye hissing at the contact from it. The whole time, y/n was avoiding eye contact with him and Neito had noticed it.

Shuffling towards them, Neito huffed "okay, explain yourself. First you don't answer me, then ditch me and you know damn well that we have that project and now you show up at my house, calming that you don't have anywhere else to go which you could have went to your friends house but didn't, so start talking" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Why did he care in the first place? Honestly, he wasn't too sure but he wanted to know why. Why was y/n doing this?

Y/n let out a sigh, moving the frozen peas off of their face still avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't at school today any my phone died" they mumbled, but they didn't stop there "if I tell you what happened, just promise.. not to laugh or anything like that?" Y/n asked as Neito rolled his eyes "i'm not a hearless monster now spill" y/n seemed to hesitate about this, fiddling with their sleeves as they kept their eyes down onto the ground.

Few minutes passed by when y/n finally began to talk.

"So..how do I say this- uhm-" they bit their lower lip "just..don't say this to anyone..because noone knows.." they added, glancing over to make sure that Neito agreed. "It…it was my dad-" y/n whispered, hugging themselves. Honestly, they didn't know why they came here..they could have went to their friends but instead they are here..telling Monoma everything. "I got home last night, pretty late and uh-..he didn't like it" y/n breathes out, glancing over at Neito before back at the floor.

The blonde was pretty shocked to hear this and honestly, seeing y/n like this..was different. Its like they are a completely different person that he knows. "I honestly not sure why I came here instead of yknow my friends" y/n kept talking "Besides I know they would make a big fuss out of this"

"Well duh-!!" Neito huffed, surprising y/n. "Anyone would because that's not fucking right okay? I know we aren't..friends or anything but that doesn't mean it doesn't concern me. How long has it been happening?" Neito huffed making y/n shrug "honestly I'm not sure" they spoke making the blonde even more angry. "And you're friends don't know about this? Like at all?" He raised an eyebrow as y/n shook their head as no, making him huff. "Okay, first you are staying here and then Tommorow you are tel-" before he could finish the sentence, y/n cuts in. "no! Absolutely not- please do not tell them!" "Why now?!" "Just-" y/n sighs in frustration, shaking their head "just..no-" they mumbles, shaking their head once again making neito sigh.

"Okay, fine we aren't telling them. But you have to do it soon, "Neito explained, to which y/n nods their heads,"yeah I know.." they mumbled quietly, taking a deep breath to calm themselves down. "Okay, you can sleep in the guest room and i'm assuming you don't have a change of clothes?" Neito spoke, which to y/n frowns "no i dont" they spoke. Letting out a sigh, neito stood up "come on, ill show you the way to the guests room and bathroom. You need a shower to look less..like you" he spoke and y/n was too tried to come up with a combat and they did agree they didn't look too bad.

Neither of them expected this to happen but it did and honestly, they didn't like to agree but they were warming up to one another.

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

taglist: @legolashaught @touyatodorokislut @otomegame-oneshots @dokxxhvhdklkkjjhhgggdj @blue-violin @speadrunner

[yorsgirl]

A Small Secret

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: To all, he came off as the brash, rude, bad guy. To you - he was a man in love.

Trope: cold to all, warm to you trope, established relationship

Warnings: non-explicit smut, fem!reader, shy!reader, soft!Sukuna, kissing, loss of virginity, soft sex, fingering, praise kink, healthy relationship, aftercare.

General Warnings: No curse AU, kinda OOC, usage of vulgar words, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

MDNI - Minors do not interact!

Word count: 1k

A/N: this is me fixing up my mind after writing On such a full moon night (no need to read that to understand what's happening, both are separate tales). Like lmao, let's be honest that was traumatizing and I needed something sweet with my curse baby hence I wrote this.

Ryomen Sukuna was many things but soft.

Whether it was the brutal remarks he threw at almost everyone or the way he'd just let his fists do the talking when anyone or anything displeased him.

Even in a bedroom, he didn't care about that or perhaps any softness. Sex for him was always rough, cause that got his adrenaline pumping, that brought him the satisfaction which he desired.

Bottom line: Sukuna Ryomen is not soft.

Asked from any of his previous flings if he'd ever been soft towards them? They'd laugh it off like some prank as in the answer isn't an obvious no.

Asked from you... well, you'd laugh too but begging to differ from that opinion.

Cause, you knew Ryomen Sukuna is capable of tenderness too.

You'd probably be ridiculed for making such a bold and (may I say) outrageous statement.

Stiffling a chuckle, you'd reminiscent the night you spent with him…

Oh, the way he lied you down on the mattress; Holding you like you were a China doll. You were so soft and fragille that he feared one wrong move and you'd break.

The way he gazed at you with absolute admiration and fondness.

And with your permission he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, catching you in a soft yet passionate kiss. His rough and calloused hands glided down your waist to your hips, as he continued to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck.

He undressed you, all so slowly, reminding himself over and over that it was your first time. A low whistle left his lips when he glanced down at your barely covered form and you'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous.

But the way he gazed at you - like an artist admiring his art. And how could he not? You were a masterpiece to begin with.

So beautiful. So gorgeous.

"Fucking perfect," He muttered under his breath, relinquishing all the doubts that clogged your head.

You gasped, gripping onto the bedsheets tightly when his fingers made contact with your clothed core. And Sukuna smirked, cooing at you, telling you how much wet you were for him.

Oh the way, he pulled your hand off your mouth when you tried to suppress your moans as he carefully pumped his finger in your dripping cunt.

No, nah, not in a million years is he ever going to miss your mewls while you laid under him.

His smirk grew when you moaned his name while his fingers hit the bundle of nerves. Just the right place. Your hips involuntarily pushed into his fingers, as you breathed hard, lips parted.

And damn, when he tasted you on his fingers. He could swear that nothing could taste sweeter, "You are a dessert on your own, baby."

Your cheeks flushed a bright red color, and when you tried to bury your face on your palms; you were quickly chided by Sukuna.

He would never miss any of your expressions.

Even then, you were scared...scared of the pain when the first penetration occurs. And he saw it in your eyes - the fear. He quietly leaned down, locking his lips to yours, tracing the skin on your forearm.

When it did happen...your eyes fluttered close as a loud groan slipped your mouth.

Sukuna waited, yes- waited. Waited for you to adjust, for the pain to subside. He caressed your cheek and held you firmly by the hips. All while looking at you with nothing but love, his hands glided down your body like he'd known this territory for years or more.

When you gave the signal, he started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, constantly checking if you weren't at any discomfort. Gradually, he picked up speed, still holding onto you just as tenderly as before.

Everything he did was just so raw and tender. All his touches, his kisses, everything.

"Mhm, taking me so well. Aren't you a natural at this, doll?" His red eyes met yours while you remained a moaning and whimpering mess. "Such a good girl."

He praised you more, from how gorgeous to just how good you felt taking him in.

It's like you were created for him...just for him.

And for once, they weren't empty praises. They meant more than he could ever let on.

For once, he didn't want to take, he wanted to give. He wanted you to feel just as good as you made him feel if not more.

For once, it wasn't just sex. For once, he wasn't just mindlessly fucking.

After it were over, he held you close, running his finger through your hair, the pad of his fingers grazing your scalp. Cleaning you up while all you wanted to do was snuggle up beside him and fall asleep.

When exhaustion started to pool in, you rested your head on his chest while his hand laid over your waist like a protective shield. He watched you fall asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as he brushed off the hairs from your face.

The moonlight from the window, highlighting the outline of your figure. He watched you, his lips curled into a soft smile.

"So beautiful." His grip tightened around your waist, not enough to hurt you, but just enough to let you know about his presence. He pressed a kiss down your forehead when you stirred in your sleep.

Even then, between you both laid a small secret.

It wasn't just your first time today, it was his too. Cause, for the first time - Sukuna made love.

[sugolara]

Sorston

ft. K.B x S.T x I.M x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

previous || series m.list || next

“They’re back!” The for that had been outside for so long had felt startled at how loud the voices were being. Didn’t they know that just because they were surrounded by walls it wasn’t always going to save them, even if they had people? Nothing made a difference, but when the gates opened and they got a view inside, maybe things would make a change for now.

It was then that Katsuki, Izuku and Shoto’s eyes widened at the sight of their classmates; Mina, Kyoka, Tenya, Mashirao, Mezo, Momo and Fumikage. Their eyes also widened as they all ran to each other, giving a big group hug. Even Katsuki, who is known to hate being held and it had Eijiro and Denki chuckling at the sight, their hearts filled with happiness as they were reunited once again, even if all weren't there.

But, at the sight, she could help her heart hurt, eyes looking away as she felt they would tear up. It was probably the sleep getting to her, but their smiles, their cries, their laughs it all had her remind that she was and will always be alone. She got her answer and the guys she spent months with didn’t need her anymore, so she’d just turn around and leave to who knows where. And she hated it. She hated everything about it. Where is her reunion? Where is her happiness, her cries and the feeling of being complete? Where is Hanta?

It wasn’t fair.

Seeing her standing there with what a face could describe joyless, Mina wiped what tears fell from her eyes and bounced over to her with a friendly smile to encourage F/n’s feelings. She understood that the h/c haired girl came all this way in hopes her family would be here and to not see anybody had to feel heartache, but she needed to keep her spirits up, “Hi! I’m Mina Ashido! What’s your name?”

“Oh, right.” Izuku placed himself in between them, smiling at the girl as he noticed something was wrong, “This is F/n. She’s been with us for a long while.”

When she made no effort to move, he kindly nudged her, “Oh..yeah, I’m F/n.”

Mina's smile grew as she looked back to her classmates, pointing at each and saying their names while they waved at her, “Since you stayed with the boys for a while I’m sure you’ll get along well with every one of them.”

She nodded, “Right…”

“You’re going to be okay.” Mina whispered to her, hoping to make her feel better, “We’re all family now.”

She stared at her, before swallowing and blinking away, “Thanks, Mina.”

“Are those your cars?” Fumkage pointed behind them, “We should bring them in before someone spots them.”

“Right, well that to you guys.” The class nodded at Eijiro as he and Tenya led Katsuki, Izuku, Shoto and F/n further into the community, “So, when we bring in outsiders they have to meet with Mr. Nezu. I’m sure you all remember our principal.”

“Holy shit.” Katsuki sputtered out, “No way he made it out.”

Tenya nodded, clipboard in hand, “He did. He’ll inform you of how things go here.”

“I thought you were supposed to do that seeing the clipboard you caring, Class President.” Katsuki glared at him as he crossed his arm, “Can’t we just do this tomorrow and relax?”

“No.” Tenya looked at him, slightly glaring, “This is crucial. Anything can happen in a second.”

“Actually,” Izuku looked at his friend, feeling nervous as he hadn't seen the girl he thought he would have seen. He felt like if he spoke her name, his eyes would glance to F/n, unknowingly that she wasn’t even paying any attention to them and was off in her own world, mindlessly following behind, “I was wondering if…Ochaco was here.”

“Right, ‘cause you’d want to know where your little girlfriend is.” Katsuki scoffed, not missing the way his eyes gave a split glance to F/n before glaring at him. “Seriously, Kacchan? Is it that bad that I just want to know if we’re all here?”

Shoto scoffed next, “I would have thought otherwise.”

Nervously, Eijiro glanced between them, an idea forming as his friends glared at each other. Clearing his throat, Tenya’s fingers drummed on his clipboard, “It’s good that you’re all back safely and brought back a good amount of supplies. I was a little scared that you wouldn’t return until the following week. You see, the thing is…they came back just before you left.”

“What?” The red-head looked down at the ground confused until his eyes snapped back to the glass-eyed male feeling frustrated, “What did they want this time? Guns? Food? People? Was last time not enough?”

“A lot.” Tenya simply said, leaving details.

“Is that why this place feels like it's been deserted?” Eijiro asked to which the other male nodded. With the four behind giving the two in front a suspicious look, they soon arrived at a home that was rather nicer than the other homes around. Its shade of brown did give it a unique look from the rest.

Holding the door open, the red-head motioned for the others to follow, letting Tenya to head back to the front gate as he had to record the supplies before they’re shipped off to the enemies. When the door closed around them, the hallway was dark. Only a few lighted candles on shelves lit the room and in between the darkness a few historical portraits were hung up. Walking further, the girl lagged behind as the rest talked among themself. There was no need to feel on edge as they were just visiting their old principal, however, despite the soft classical music being heard it did feel eerie. What kind of maniac plays classical music instead of lyrical?

Climbing up the stairs and reaching the end of the second floor hallway, the red-head opened the door for their eyes to see an office room. While the room was big, most of the walls were occupied by bookshelves, leaving the back wall to a cage with a rat running calmly eating its pellets. In the center of the room was their principal and for it being the end of the world, he still wore his suit and maintained his shiny hair.

“I’m so glad to see you are here.” Mr. Nezu smiled comfortably. While his desk was preoccupied with papers and books, he moved that out of the way to see his students he often thought about, “Alive and well.”

“Bu-Ho-” He interrupted the freckle male, nodding at Eijiro that it was okay to leave, “Yes, you all have a lot of questions, but my safety or as to how I got here is not important. What is, is that you’re all here and we have to get you accommodated. Though, I must admit, that after U.A. was turned into utter chaos, I did help as many staff and students as I could, but unfortunately, during the process many students tragically died.”

Their faces fell and while he did not give out names, they had to assume that those who weren't here were gone. “Don’t let their deaths be of concern. Remember, that as long as we cherish their memories, they will still be with us.”

She crossed her arms and looked at the curtains behind him while Izuku softly spoke, “Right.”

With a smile, Mr. Nezu stood up, “I did manage to get a bus full of people and they now reside here.”

Katsuki let out a nod as his eyes looked at the rat running on its wheel, “What’s with the rat?”

“Animals are also important to have.” Mr. Nezu cheerfully said, grabbing a clipboard from underneath the amount of papers on his desk, “If you follow me, I want to get started.”

“Started?” Her brow raised, “Start with what?”

“Always with a suspicious mind.” He chuckled as he exited his office, “It seems that even with the world ending, we still are the same, F/n.”

Shoto who stood beside her let out a tiny smile at her as he exited the room following behind their principal. Her face confused and offended humored him. After she was the last to leave the room, they headed towards what Mr. Nezu called the workshop, where everyone had a designated job to do.

They walked back to the entrance where a house with a garage stood. Mr. Nezu pointed inside where they could slightly see someone working, “This is Mei. I’m sure you all remember her. At the moment she is busy, but she works on fixing vehicles as well as other appliances like if your house stove, toilet, dishwasher and other such stop working.”

“Stove?” Shoto asked, his brows furrowing, “Stoves work?”

Mr. Nezu nodded, “Yep!”

Katsuki let out a sound, shocked at what he was hearing, “Are you saying that the utilities work? That the water works and whatnot?”

He once again nodded, “That is what I’m saying.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Katsuki added, to which the principal shook his head chuckling. “No, I am not.”

“Well, Denki did say that there were showers.” Izuku said, his hand on his chin.

“And you’re mentioning this now?” Shoto said as Izuku apologized to him.

“Next to this building holds other supplies you might need, but since that’s not important, we’ll continue onward.” Mr. Nezu said as they walked back. They then stood next to a smaller house that could be considered a studio. There were plenty of racks stored with food, “This is the food department. Should you need supplies, Tamaki and Seijii will help with that. They are not here at the moment, as they are writing down the supplies you had brought. They do keep up with ingredients that are missing and if you have any request, make sure to let them know.

“You can also ask for Tenya with that. Next.” They exited and went to the next door that was also a studio. When they entered they noticed a rather muscular, tall and pale mint-green hair sitting in one of the stools, reading a book, “This is Gunhead. He is in charge of the weaponry and the shop Mei is in.”

She looked around, seeing a utility bin that held a few guns and besides that were shelfs of other weapons. It surprised the males she spent months with when she hadn’t said anything. She only held a straight face, looking uninterested which had them wondering what she was up to. While Izuku had concerns, Katsuki looked away leaving Shoto a guess of what she was thinking. Gunhead acknowledged them with a nod as he was busy placing stuff away.

“Next!” Mr. Nezu exited the place and entered the next studio by it. It was bigger than the other two. Two chairs that were meant for patients were placed in the center. A medicine cabinet was placed in the next wall, a metal stand that's used for medical supplies was also placed in the back. It smelled of pharmaceuticals, “This is the infirmary. If you have any pain, Yawara is there to help you. Shota is as well, but he is bust at the moment.”

Shoto was surprised, “So, Mr. Aizawa made it?”

“He’s not… Izuku didn’t want to say the word.

“No.” Mr. Nezu looked at them, “He is not dead. He and Toshinori are out looking for other survivors.”

“So he made it too, huh.” Katsuki was glad to hear that they were both alive.

“When will they be back?” Izuku asked, wanting to see his teacher that helped him through all the tough times he’s been through. Toshinori was like the father he never had, but he’d never say that to him.

“That is unsure.” Mr. Nezu hummed, having the freckle male feeling disappointed. “..Oh.”

“Now follow me! We have our last workplace to see!” They all exited the studio and continued to walk for a couple minutes. Behind the buildings were a small farm and garden. The only animals they had were pigs and roosters. As for the garden, it seemed to be doing good as loads of vegetables and fruits were blooming, ready to be plucked. They had to be winter fruit as others wouldn't bloom.

“Those that work here don’t work until late afternoon.” Mr. Nezu added, “They take care of both of these jobs and bring the good fruits and vegetables to the food house. As for the pig and roosters, we hardly eat them as we need them to breed, adding more of themselves so that we have plenty. Ryuko is in charge of these both.”

“It’s a nice setup.” Shoto had to agree with what he was shown. He was honestly thinking that the community was small, but to see a garden and a farm, that blew his mind.

“What I care about is the bandits that Shitty Hair mentioned.” Katsuki crossed his arms, saying what he was sure everyone else was thinking.

“Kacchan.” Izuku looked at his friend, “I don’t think that's our place to ask. We just got here.”

Mr. Nezu let out a small sigh, a smile still glued on his lips, “Izuku is correct. That is not your place, so you shouldn't worry. I have everything in control. But besides that, please, do leave your weapons in the weaponry shop. It is for safety precautions. Only those in the weaponry carry as well as the few that go out scavenging. But if you plan on leaving the community, then you’ll be able to take your stuff.”

It didn't have them feeling sure of whether the enemy would be taken care of, but since he was the leader or chief they had to abide by his rules. “Well, that concludes the day. I will have your jobs ready before the end of the day. Mirio and Nejire will help you with the housing. If you have any problems, don’t be shy and let me know.”

Mr. Nezu then softly clapped, smiling at them, “Welcome, to Sorston.”

[onyourhyuck]

Dangerous Alliance. | l.hc (M) PT ONE.

synopsis; bae sarang looks nothing special on the outside, has black thick glasses and wears her thick black hair in a raw clip. ‘typical nerd’ people would describe her. but when she goes back home bae sarang is a genius hacker with high level of IQ. one day, she ends up hacking into a mafia security breach. Boy, did she regret it because her life was about to change for the worse.

warnings; mafia au, hacker au, smut!! No minors, mature language, mention of bad health, angst is here, enemies to lovers, denial, slow slow slowww burn, bae sarang is a sarcastic bbg and we love that <333, sarang really doesn’t take shit from men LMAO, haechan is an ass, fighting scenes, action is a major genre here because mafia ayo. slight comedy to break the tension.

✧;── table of contents ──; ✧

╭      ⁞ ❏. masterlist to other chapters.

┊      ⁞ ❏. next chapter: part 2 link.

┊      ⁞ ❏. previous chapter:

── ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ ──

“seriously sarang how do you keep getting such good grades! it’s as if you knew what was going to be on the paper.” giselle cries out, it was true, sarang makes sure to visit the school’s test paper website and hack into it. that way she can memorise the answers to the questions and get 100/100 with ease. sarang was always getting good grades without hacking in, but she would rather prefer a 100 than a 90.

sarang jokingly nudges giselle with a pout. “c’mon that’s crazy, i just study and you don’t!” she wasn’t wrong, giselle doesn’t study. she simply prays and hopes it gives her a good grade, relying heavily on two months worth of mind memorisation too.

the two girls were brought back from their lunch to their classes once again, final class and then sarang can go back home to her chambers. as anyone could tell, the girl is a homebody. everyone sees her as this innocent quiet nerdy girl but little did they know sarang true form.

the bus restarting the engine outside the building. sarang left to reopen the apartment door, shutting it close. darkness with barely any light, a large computer set up when entering the girl’s bedroom. long four table set up linking together, four screens aligned on top with one keyboard controlling them all. touch screen as well, sarang can easily make quick decisions by using her fingers. two monitors underneath along with specialised military apps that sarang happened to find three years ago without being caught and found out.

the girl uses fake vpns along protection data from viruses. sarang was unstoppable. the girl evilly grins at the sight of her beautiful computer screens. the school bag was thrown onto the bed farther away, without a care. the young girl taking a seat on the spinny chair, moving forward as she turns the screens on. a bright light incoming.

“hehe let’s see who’s falling to their dooms now.” sarang said while rubbing hands, warming them up. a sudden notification brought sarang to look over to her phone, lifting it she read aloud.

“new Baekhyun album sales, only one in stock left!!”

“WHAT.” sarang gasps as her fingers flop on they keyboard, immediately setting a hacking program to get the album first before anyone. i mean seriously, it’s baekhyun! sarang wants to get her idols album. she has a bunch already but the collection needs to grow.

and she isn’t waiting till tomorrow for a fill up!

the room echoes focused finger tapping on the keyboards along with fast typing, bright green colour of the screen painting the dark room greenish and black with white bright screens on the side. monitor beeping regularly, a good sign sarang is doing fine. the program lettering starting to reveal a morse code.

sarang hums tapping the finger along with the code, trying to figure out the pattern. once doing so, she clogs on. “aha, i found it. double tapping.” sarang murmurs, same syllable being used as double taps to avoid being found out. she grins when the program was loading, she finished.

but then something really caught her off guard.

when looking at the front middle main screen, sarang imagined the album to be there in sight. so why was there a sudden red and black screen with red letters forming? she couldn’t understand. did she hack somewhere else? the monitor began to beep like a wild siren, sarang cussing when the opposite security was reacting like a virus.

the opposite side was being attacked too, not just the main screen but the two above it tackled by the program virus infecting it. sarang pressed the protection data that slowly began fighting the rest of the other screens as she types really fast, putting codes and whatnot to defeat whatever she hacked into.

sarang had no time to dwell on baekhyun’s album if she is under an attack. small droplets of sweat streaming down the side, heavy breathes with pants heard as her fingers curl to cramp but she held it, not wanting to lose. sarang swore this is quite a nasty place to hack in.

it was inflexible, stubborn and most definitely something top secret; she found the fbi servers easier than this. whatever it was, sarang will find out sooner or later.

a sudden stop heard when both programs paused, the green overtaking the red. sarang’s lips widely curve in a cocky laugh. “yeah that’s what i thought! surprise attack? fuck you, i won.” sarang had a little hype ceremony standing up, dancing as well as doing the la cucaracha in middle of her room, far away from the set up table.

the middle main large screen took her to a base security breech. sarang lowers her head coming closer, stopping the dance midway, squinting her eyes with her glasses lifting slightly. she sits back down scrolling around, a sunflower decaying as a logo of the breech.

it was sinister and dark, sarang couldn’t understand what she was looking at. i mean it for sure isn’t baekhyun’s damn album.

“what the fuck, did i hack into some dark kinky pornhub?” sarang groans, Baekhyun album overtaking her worried mind because it’s most definitely sold out now. she rubs the curtain bangs back a little, a really good file name taking the interest.

she grins. “haha fullsun? what file name is that. don’t tell me i hacked into nasa!” sarang commented shifting the mouse to the screen to click the file name. a hint of panic overcoming her body, she should’ve stayed curious.

“this isn’t nasa…” sarang lipped, scrolling down the horrifying pictures. gruesome people dead along with names and lettering.

what did she hack into? the more the screen were to roll down, the worse it got. sarang’s eyes sonic flash back and forth on each screen, she felt paralysed with this information. what the hell did she hack into?

the whole website would start to download to the usb locked in the computer monitor, sarang feels like this sight will need to be captured, it was a gut feeling. the girl quickly grasps the usb once the download finished, leaving the site and programs erasing it off the screen.

she exhales lightly staring at the usb, fingers curling on the surface of the cable. what did she exactly get herself into? luckily the vpn will trace her fake IP address to France, they won’t find her.

a knock on the door brought sarang to be cautiously moving upwards, another impatient knock on the door. sarang could imagine million scenarios of how this could end and who this could be; fbi? Seoul police? Best medical hospital in Seoul? yes she did hack into a hospital once. maybe it’s that weird security breech earlier and they will mince her ruthlessly in front of their sicko friends.

sarang points a taser towards the door as the anticipation killed her. “STAY AWAY DONT COME CLOSER—” the door slowly opens as the taser flickers forward, hitting nothing.

giselle glances at sarang with eyebrow raised. “what are you doing, sarang?” she questions. the girl backs away with a slight scream. “oh holy shit it’s just you! oh my god, why didn’t you call me.”

the taser moves out of sight as she welcomes her friend inside the apartment. sarang closing the bedroom door, she moves giselle to the small open kitchen and living room in one. she sits down humming.

“so what brings you over bestie?” sarang cooed bringing apple juice and two clear glass cups, giselle smirks. “there is a party happening tonigh-”

“no.” sarang midway interrupts, her best friend pouts, she knew the immediate answer but still, you gotta keep trying. sarang sighs. “i hate parties. i like being home.”

giselle curls forward hugging sarang’s one hand, shaking back and forth. “please sarangggg please please please!”

“nope.” sarang states again.

giselle pulls away with a wide smirk. she couldn’t of came without a blackmail present could she? giselle motions sarang’s attention to her as her jacket reopens revealing baekhyun’s newest album release today. “i knew you’d be like this that’s why I came here with a trump card.”

“are you blackmailing me because it’s working.” sarang comments with arms crossed, this isn’t fair!

sarang’s lips fall apart as if it were crumbling mountain, hands reaching to touch the holy album. giselle touch shift it backwards making sure sarang couldn’t touch it, putting a finger in front of sarang tutting back forth. “nahuh, unless you come to the party with me you’re not getting shit.”

she fixes the glasses in annoyance, maybe…going to the party won’t hurt? for Baekhyun she would do anything. sarang clears her throat. “fine, I’ll come with. what time are we leaving?” giselle stands up dancing up and down. “yesss! oh my god holy gods I’ve done it. we’re leaving at eight tonight.”

sarang sighs. “fine, now give me that damn album.” sarang remarks forward with hands out. she really wishes to get that damn album.

“boss someone has hacked into our base and now i can’t enter it without my screen freezing. i feel like she has deleted all our informatio.” the man sitting down frustrated told, the tan man with a white sleeve shirt, black tie and trousers, hair flowing nicely above the eyebrows symmetrically. “find her IP address, I can see she’s using a fake one. disable her vpn.”

“donghyuck.” a guy on the side called out when he pointed to the large live tv screen, a dark room with a bunch of Baekhyun posters on the walls. mark pauses. “I have managed to hack into her camera. she lives in Seoul, do you want me to send down tropes?”

the man smirks shaking his head when the screen became brighter, the sight of two girls opening the closet looking through clothes together. the one with the glasses sticking out particularly. “no don’t send my men down, instead…”

“find information about her such as the name age, work, make sure she isn’t some associated with police or fbi, and listen to their conversation, they look like they’re going somewhere.” donghyuck tells before walking away, he’s going to crush the girl who destroyed his high level security base.

✁- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“please refer from translating, copyrighting and plagiarising my work, thank you!”

╰─▸ ❝ @onyourhyuck has. . . . logged off.

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ Dangerous Alliance.꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[tagthetrekkie]

When the Party is Over

Pairing: Weyoun x reader

Warnings: none

Synopsis: with the war over, Weyoun hoped he could spend the rest of his life with you

AU: Weyoun 6 lives; Sisko is still around

The war is over. The tense atmosphere that hung over the station was replaced by a more welcoming aura. To commemorate the moment, Captain Sisko was convinced by Ezri Dax to hold a party at Quark's.

Weyoun finds the whole ordeal appealing, but you don't. No, you could make it all better. But he doesn't care much to keep talking to others. 

There's Romulan Ale on the counter.

Not their favorite type, but it was real alcohol, not some replicated crap. Weyoun doesn't think would care too much about some stolen alcohol. He's right about that.

This party means the end of dark time, and tomorrow will be a new era. Both have big plans for the year ahead and big plans for the future.

You are laughing and he is smiling. It is a transcendental moment.

***

You know, last night I tried to imagine myself without you. The thing is, I could and I felt so much better.

It is cruel and you know that. No kind words to soothe the stroke, but you couldn't feel bad for it. This was going to hurt his pride later, but now you’re convinced of your choice, just observing how Weyoun slowly processes the words. 

He looks for any feature that could demonstrate it was some kind of human joke, but the Vorta knew it wasn't your style

Eventually, he accepts and being honest with yourself, you were disappointed by his lack of reaction. It wasn't like you wanted to see him hurt, you just thought you had more impact in his life.

There isn't too much explanation beyond that, and Weyoun couldn't decide if it was good or not.

He could have loved you for his whole life and that was what he was planning, but you are out of his life now. Some part inside of him thought he deserved some explanation, but the other one knew there wasn't one.

There were things still stuck in his bones, words Weyoun wished he could say to you. It was not like he was expecting any answer, but maybe, if he had said these things, it would be a relief now.

He just locked himself in his quarter, a very childish action if he may add, but in that moment, Weyoun just wants to be alone. Sitting down in his bed, he just asks himself if he made the right choice. No, he doesn't need to be near anyone now, not when the wound hurts so bad. But being alone feels as bad as being with his Vorta comrades considering he is alone with his thoughts right now.

The ring feels heavy in his pocket, so he takes it and opens the velvet box. It shines under the strong lights coming from the window in an almost mocking way. Who could say a golden ring could make someone feel so much shame and self aversion? As a Vorta, the Founders didn't bother to shape them beyond necessary, meaning they didn’t bother to give their “pets” something as mundane as a ritual involving marriage.

Weyoun put the box in the drawer, he can't even look at it. Knowing that he would have some time of complete privacy, his determination breaks completely. Weyoun was never ashamed to cry, so he knew how broke he was when no tears came out of his eyes. He just sat on his bed and felt numb.

Weyoun was totally disconnected from his surroundings, he didn't hear the buzz from the Quark’s bar nor saw how beautiful the view of the wormhole was. He has been damaged before, but he always finds a way to mend himself. Having five predecessors with the sole purpose of serving, he had never been broken, and as far as he knew, you were the only one who could have made him feel that way.

[justatypicalwizard]

Wants Within | S. Shinazugawa | Chapter 21

✦ Sanemi Shinazugawa x femReader!, college au, reader is adult

✦ Synopsis: You're a college student taking classes with a very strict lecturer- professor Shinazugawa. Because of an unfortunate event you got on his bad side so now you're trying everything to regain in his eyes. Well, you most certainely didn't expect that kind of attention.

✦ Word count: 1,8k

18+, minors do not interact

You were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that happened. After you got the text from Shinazugawa, which made you feel slightly better because you could talk to someone, you decided to turn off your phone. You didn’t want to get any messages from different people, certainly not from Anna and the only person that you thought of opening your mouth to would be available later, when he’s done with all his classes. 

Shifting on the blankets you thought of the situation once again, or more like the hundredth time. Why did Inosuke say something like this? Yes, you did talk to him earlier but it was more of a friendly conversation where he would stress a topic that was important for him, not quite listen to you and quickly shift his attention to something else. You never did anything that in your opinion would be a hint or an invitation. It was completely out of the blue! Was this supposed to be some sort of a joke? If it would be one Tanjiro and the rest wouldn’t be so surprised and definitely the black haired wouldn’t stand in your defence. So it was not one. You had literally no idea what happened and why. 

While in your overthinking trans you lost what hour it was. Deciding that it’s time to shower you looked at the clock and spotted it was quite late. Turning your phone on you ignored some texts, not even looking at who sent them and picked Shinazugawa’s number. Waiting for him to pick up you stepped from one foot to the other, circling paths on the floor. 

‘’Hello?’’ His voice from the other side tore you from your thoughts. 

‘’Hey, it’s me.’’ You sighed. 

‘’Hi. Before you start let me tell you something quickly.’’ He told and you started to listen. ‘’I think I cut the drama short. After you left I told the shithead that his behaviour is more than inappropriate. I also told the rest that if I hear or read one public opinion on that situation, I don’t care from who, everyone would be fucked up because it’s none of their business and news. I think my reputation can save your ass.’’ 

So that’s why you didn’t read anything online. Honestly, you didn’t know how to feel about what Sanemi told you. On one hand you were happy that he protected you and you really wanted to believe that his statement would cut the drama short. On the other hand if anyone would be particularly keen on making fun of you Shianzugawa’s statement would only add up to it making you seem helpless. 

The only thing you could do now was hope that the second scenario would not occur. 

‘’Thank you.’’ You mumbled. 

‘’Want to talk about it?’’ He asked and you hesitated, did you really want to? ‘’I don’t know you well enough to know whether you’re open or bottle up but believe me, saying it out loud may help you clear your mind. If you want, I can just listen, not talk.’’ He waited for your answer. 

‘’... Yeah, okay.’’ You sat on your bead, getting ready to throw it all out. 

‘’Okay, hit me with it.’’ 

‘’I just don’t have a fucking clue you know!’’ You started, finally letting the stress of the past few hours flow out. ‘’I never, never, never did anything that would hint at him. Why would I? I have… you. Eh, that was just too much. If he did it while we were alone or only with friends I would just brush it off, but like that! No, that’s just fucked up. Now I don’t know if he’s some kind of a creep or what.’’ You rambled about everything and nothing for a few minutes, venting out. ‘’What do you think about it?’’ Finally, you asked. 

‘’I think you can guess my opinion. That fucking, dirty creep need to leave you alone or else something bad will happen to him.’’ 

First time since the incident you giggled. You imagined Sanemi kidnaping Inosuke. 

‘’I think I’ll just ask Tanjiro what he thinks about it. He knows Inosuke better than me.’’ You said. 

Just then you heard a loud knock on the door.

‘’Someones here, wait a moment I’ll just see who is that.’’ 

Using the peephole you spotted it was no one else than Inosuke. His hands were buried in his pockets and he was throwing his head from right to left. 

‘’The creep is at my door right now.’’ You panicked a bit, backing off. 

‘’You don’t have to talk to him.’’ Shinazugawa said in an angry manner. 

‘’You know what, actually, I want to ask what the fuck he wants.’’ You felt the frustration flow through your spine and tangle your stomach.

‘’Mute me but don’t end the call. Hold your phone close so I can hear if anything happens to you.’’ He gave you short, strict instructions. 

‘’And so you can hear what we are talking about.’’ Wish he could see that raised eyebrow look you had. 

‘’Yeah, that too.’’ At least he admitted. 

Muting Sanemi and holding your phone to your chest, so that Inosuke doesn't see you’re on a call, you sighed and stepped to the door. With one swift motion powered by adrenaline and anger you opened the door and glared at Inosuke. 

‘’What?’’

‘’Eh…’’ He looked at you, also angry. ‘’Tanjiro said I need to apologise.’’

‘’If you’re only here because Tanjiro told you so then go fuck yourself.’’ You spat out. 

‘’Well, I don’t think I did anything I need to apologise for!’’ he started to shout. 

‘’Shut the fuck up, keep it quiet!’’ You whispered shouted. ‘’I don’t what more drama because of you.’’

‘’It ain’t no drama!’’ 

‘’Yes it is.’’ You spat out every word separately. ‘’Do you even know, agh! You don’t understand do you?’’ 

‘’No, I don’t.’’ He kicked the wall and you kicked his food, hissing at him. ‘’Why are you all so fucking angry with me!’’ He looked down and you felt your heart twitch slightly. 

You remembered all the times Tanjiro told you about Inosuke’s problems. He was clueless when it comes to emotions. He doesn’t understand his own ones, let alone the ones of others. He is socially awkward in a very weird manner and had problems adapting. He literally had problems with anything concerning life in the society. Given his past, it’s not so shocking after all. 

Angry as you were, you started to feel empathy towards the boy. Ah, fuck you and your good heart. 

‘’Come in.’’ You stepped aside to let him past. 

‘’What?’’

‘’Shut up and come it.’’ You demanded and he did as told. ‘’Sit.’’ You pointed at your bed. 

He looked up at you with a lost expression. You put your phone down on the shelf, close enough for Sanemi to hear. 

‘’Look, I’m gonna put it out as simply as I can.’’ You started. ‘’Do you like when people laugh at you?’’

‘’No.’’ 

‘’Now people will laugh at me because of what you did.’’ You looked him in the eye. You weren’t sure but a glimpse of understanding lit somewhere there. ‘’I don't know you, you don’t know me. You don’t ask out a person that you don’t know. I thought we liked each other, but after what you did I don’t know if I can call you a friend.’’ You crossed your hands on your chest and looked to the side. 

‘’What?!’’ He jumped up, standing straight in front of you. ‘’We are friends!’’ He looked like he was really moved by this. ‘’You can’t not like me now, that’s unfair! We’re friends!’’ 

‘’After what you did, I don’t know?’’ Honestly, he looked like a five year old that you took candy from. 

‘’I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I want to be friends, I’m sorry.’’ He started to shake you.

‘’Hey, okay, stop!’’ Inosuke let you go. ‘’Okay, just don’t do stupid shit like that anymore.’’ You grumbled. 

‘’So… will we still be friends?’’ He looked at you and maybe he would not admit it but sadness lingered on his face. 

‘’I’m still angry with you but when I’ll calm down then yes, we’ll still be friends.’’ You sighed, rubbing your temples. ‘’Just tell me one thing because I want to get it straight and I know emotions are not your strong side. Do you feel anything romantic towards me?’’ 

‘’How do I know?’’ He asked, totally dumbfounded. 

Oh gosh.

‘’Eh, do you… like, what to spend a lot of time with me, do you like how I look, do you think about me, do you feel like you want to be close or… touch me in any way?’’ You tried your best.

‘’Ew, no.’’ He shrugged. 

‘’Okay, okay, at least we have one thing figured out.’’ You let the ‘ew’ pass by. ‘’Then why did you ask me out? You know that asking out means feeling all those things.’’

‘��Eh…’’ He fondled and kicked around. 

‘’Inosuke.’’

‘’I wanted to beat Tanjiro.’’ What?

‘’What?’’ What? You didn’t understand. ‘’How ‘beat Tanjiro’?’’ 

‘’He told me that he… how did you say it, eh, likes someone? Yeah, he talks about… I can’t say. The black haired looked like he just remembered something. 

‘’You can’t say what?’’

‘’I can’t. Tanjiro said if I say he will throw me out of the house. I don’t want to be thrown out of the house.’’ 

Tanjiro said what to who? Wow. This was some deep shit. 

‘’Okay, then better not tell.’’ You waved your hands up in the air. ‘’But what was about the ‘beating him’? Did you want to be first… to ask someone out?’’

‘’... yes.’’ He said bluntly. 

‘’Oh.’’ You nodded. ‘’Then you won.’’ 

‘’I did?’’ He lit up. 

‘’It was a shitload but you did ask out first.’’ You couldn’t help but giggle. 

It was nothing like you expected. Inosuke is just so random and unpredictable that even in your wildest dreams you couldn’t imagine a scenario like this. Maybe if it was someone else you would feel hurt, being a part of someone's game, but this is Inosuke. He most likely doesn’t know what romance is and just treats this like another competition against Tanjiro where he is the sole contestant. 

‘’Can I go now? Tanjiro didn’t give me dinner before I said sorry to you.’’ He grumbled. 

‘’Yeah, get the hell out of here.’’ You laughed and showed him to the door. ‘’See you.’’ 

‘’Bye!’’ And he ran off. 

‘’Did you hear it.’’ You unmuted Sanemi after you closed the door, bursting into laughter. 

‘’Yes, and now I not only don’t have brows but also ears. What a fucking nonsense.’’ 

SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@secretxchive @vesperazhier

[taechaos]

Blackmail

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Jimin offers you information on Jungkook, but your friendship is misconstrued by Jungkook who ends it singlehandedly with one video of you professing your love to him between moans.

warnings: dubcon, fingering, degredation, mild squirting, manipulation

word count: 2.8k

a/n: jealous kook doesn't realize he's jealous. this part is a bit extreme, so beware ><

One doesn't come across someone like Jungkook every day. It's fate that you met him in your first year of college, extending to your second where he grows closer to you; fair, it's clear that he only intends to use you for his academic success, but you've deluded yourself into thinking you're in love with each other. Growing up, you only had your dysfunctional family to teach you about how to love, how to think. As long as Jungkook needs you, he will love you, and you’re willing to do anything to be with him, only him. You need him to live.

Birds sing in the background as you lay on your stomach on the grass of the yard across the campus. It’s sunny and breezy, the perfect spring day as you work on Jungkook’s research paper due next month. You compiled multiple credible sources in a separate file to create an outline for his essay the moment he forwarded the assignment to you. You want him to praise you, pet your hair, kiss your cheek for starting so early so he can turn it in before anyone else. He would be proud, flashing you his pearly whites and adoring eyes. The reward motivates you to work harder and you’re relentlessly skimming through articles while counting down the minutes of Jungkook's lecture. He'll be outside with his friends in 7 minutes.

With a bad childhood, you don’t care to befriend many people. You only have a few friends to keep you company and you’re socially awkward outside of that group. You’re content, so you steer clear of boys who try to sabotage your relationship with Jungkook. Jimin, however, doesn’t get the memo.

Typing away on your laptop, a shadow looms over you to give you a break from the sunlight. You glance up and stop swinging your legs absentmindedly when you recognize the shadow; it’s a boy with frames and a tight collar adorning his neck.

Park Jimin is a typical nerd whereas you’re more of a closeted nerd. When you’re in love, you usually put more effort into your appearance to impress the one on your mind, but that doesn’t work with Jungkook. It’s always other men giving you their attention through second glances, and that includes Jimin.

“What do you want?” you rudely greet. Jimin is ruthless with his attempts at pursuing you; he’s the perfect gentleman, and often volunteers to do group tasks with you. He is never mean to anyone, and has a squeaky clean reputation, but his only flaw is that he can’t take a hint. You don't bother being friendly to him because you don't want friends.

"I want to know why you look so happy," he bends over to curiously glance at your screen, "while doing homework?"

You slam the monitor closed to stop his ogling. "You wouldn't get it. And stop watching me," you sternly say.

"What's your secret?" he grins and sits down on the grass next to you with crossed legs. His upper body serves as a shade and you stop squinting.

"There is no secret, I was just in a good mood until you came along." You're not upset, but you don't want to lead Jimin on and he won't leave unless you blow him off.

"Thinking of Jungkook?" he teases with a mischievous smile.

"Are you stalking me?"

"No, you're just too obvious," he chuckles, but the sound is strained. You don't notice his melancholy as he continues, "You were doing his homework again?"

You shift on your propped elbows a little uncomfortably. Jimin doesn't need to know what you do in your free time. "Yes," you answer anyway.

"You know he has daddy issues?"

Your eyes round as your discomfort dissipates instantly; he's piqued your interest. "Really?"

"Yeah, he has a tough exterior but he's actually a real softie."

An involuntary smile carves on your face before it falters as you ask, "How do you know this?"

"We went to high school together. I can tell you some stories if you want," he boasts when he realizes he has your attention. The context makes his heart sink, but when he imagines your lovesick grin is directed at him, it fills him with joy.

"Tell me, tell me! Please."

"Weeell," he draws with a lopsided grin, "don't tell him I told you this, but he used to hate girls. I don't know if he still does, but back then he couldn't even stand talking to a girl."

"Why?" your eyes are wide with interest as you whisper.

He shrugs, "No idea, but he hit a girl once when she wouldn't stop clinging onto him. Not like drop-kick her," he laughs, "he just shoved her on the ground. Be careful with him, okay? He can be very aggres-"

"You guys forming a nerd club now?"

You gasp when you hear Jungkook's voice. When you look up at him, he's almost glaring as his eyes flicker from you to Jimin. You're gleeful at his approach, because he never comes to you unless it's about a new assignment. It flutters your heart to see him without any papers in his hand.

You don't take his subtle insult to heart as you immediately respond, "No, we were just talking. H-Hi."

"Pull down your skirt, you look like a whore. I can see your panties all the way from the gates," he seethes in distaste. You instantly sit up with a blush and tug your skirt down to your knees. He looks back at Jimin who's glaring at him under his lashes, "The fuck's your deal?"

"Nothing," Jimin grits. Although he hates Jungkook's guts, he's too smart to fight a lost cause. He has his own set of muscles, but it isn't enough. It's best to accept defeat now.

"Did you start on the paper?" Jungkook asks you.

"Yes, I-"

"Good," he cuts you off and crouches to peck your lips by pulling the back of your neck. You're stunned when he pulls away and nonchalantly walks off to his friends.

Jimin follows him with his eyes and mutters under his breath, "douche."

Your heart is racing and you clamp a hand over your chest as a lovestruck smile spreads across your face. You know this is your end of the bargain, but it never fails to shrivel you up in delight.

"Are you two dating?" he mumbles as he pulls on the grass with a pout.

"Something like that," you exhale as you caress your lips.

It’s become routine to link up with Jimin where he reminisces his high school memories and you don’t doubt a single word he says unless it sheds a bad light on Jungkook. You’ve learned so much about him in the past few days, and you’re eager to know more. He likes energy drinks to this day, he was athletic in school and often got into fights. He began interacting with girls when he entered college, as Jimin says, “only for a quick fuck.”

Though it hurts Jimin that you only talk to him for information on Jungkook, he can’t bring himself to care when you hang onto every word he says with a glint in your eyes like you’re doing now.

You're sitting in the bustling cafeteria across from Jimin, sipping on a homemade strawberry lemonade from your thermos, and you don't notice Jungkook glancing at your table every now and then. It is the first time he doesn't feel your heavy gaze on him. Jimin does notice however, because he is facing him every time he receives a threatening ferile look.

"He could become a lawyer with how much he blackmailed the teachers to give him a good grade," Jimin tells you as he glances back and forth between you and Jungkook. "He's quite dangerous, you know. He's manipulative, a liar and has no empathy-"

"He's clever," you counter defensively, "he knows how to get around the system."

He makes a disgruntled noise from the back of his throat with a grimace. "I don't think the judge would listen to that."

You laugh at his comparison of the conversation to a court hearing. Jimin can be funny sometimes, and you have to admit that he's not that bad of a friend either. You've come to enjoy his company without the topic of Jungkook the past few days, but talking about him is always appreciated.

"Are you the judge then?" you cheekily ask.

"I might as well be, since I'm not biased like a certain someone," he teases with a grin.

"A lawyer has to see the bright side of things, but if I was the prosecutor, I wouldn't tell you that your lecture is in five minutes."

His smile falters as his eyes widen; you remember his schedule? He ran late for a lecture yesterday, but he’s in disbelief that you reminded him today. "Th-Thanks," he breathes as he packs up his belongings before giving you a curt, shy nod. His heart pounds when he walks away, and he resists the urge to look back at you.

It's a good idea, because that's when Jungkook settles down on his former seat.

"I'm thinking you might be forgetting who you belong to," he starts as he gets comfortable on the stiff chair. You instantly smile at his appearance.

"No, I'm very well aware of it." Your tone is high-pitched in excitement.

"It wasn't a question."

"Oh..."

“You talk more than you work,” he observes with a quirk of his brow. “One would think another nerd would be a better influence on you.”

“I work at night,” you defend worriedly, “I promise I’m not slacking off. Can I get a kiss please?”

You’re so adorable when you’re needy. He hides a smirk with a bite of his lip; he thrives from your loyalty to him, but he knows Jimin is a threat to it. He wants you to stop talking to that freak, and he justifies it as a concern for his grades. “I’ll kiss you when you’re not procrastinating. Do you think you deserve even a pat on the head?”

“I do! I’m halfway done with the research paper, please Jungkook,” you beg pathetically, “I-I’ll show it to you, I have it with me right now.” You start unzipping the case of your laptop until he holds up a hand for you to stop.

“You’re going to read it to me, but not here.”

When he stands up, so do you in a haste. He leaves the cafeteria with you hot on his tail, almost jogging when his strides are much bigger compared to yours. You resemble a clueless lamb following a lion, desperate to hold his claws with your hooves. You don’t know where he’s leading you as you walk down the halls until you stop in front of a door. You’re about to freak out when he swings open the door, but you realize the lecture room is empty.

“You want me to read here?” you inquire meekly. It’s a little intimidating to do it in complete silence, because you have a tendency to stutter when reading out loud and you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jungkook where no one can talk over you. 

“Yup.” He snatches your laptop case from your hand with the handle, and roughly opens it before placing the device on the front row wooden desk. It’s a large hall, and the desks stretch out to the half of the room. You’re feeling stage fright for no particular reason; it feels like reverse claustrophobia. “Open the document and give me your phone.”

You don’t question him and hand in your phone before going through your files on the laptop. Jungkook is looking through your contacts and grins when he finds himself saved as: the love of my life ♡. Jimin is saved by his name, and he finds his WhatsApp through his information below. Once he opens your empty chat with him, he switches to your camera and pushes your back so you’re bent over the desk. You sharply inhale and ask, “Kook?” 

“Don’t get distracted now,” he lightly scolds and starts pulling down your pants. You stopped wearing skirts after the incident a week ago to appease him. You stammer with your back arched, and your ass is on full display for him. It’s humiliating. “Start reading.”

“H-Humans are- Jungkook?” you warily look back at Jungkook when he slides the slit of your panties to the side.

“Are you slacking off?” he condescends. 

You bite your lip anxiously and continue reading, “Humans are social animals that n-need social interaction,” Jungkook spits in his hand, “the extent of our social relationships is the most important predictor of h-happiness.” You squeal when you feel wet fingers graze your folds, but you know better than to stop and ask what he’s doing.

“Continue,” he coaxes softly as he brushes his fingertips over your pussy lips. 

“Um, o-one of the main reasons our brains have developed the way they have is so that we can be social,” you speak between shaky breaths. Your cheeks are tinted crimson with embarrassment from his touches; why is he pleasuring you when he specifically told you, you didn’t deserve any? “Being happy a-all of the time is neither possible nor desirable.”

“Is it now?” He slips a finger in your cunt and you involuntarily let out a cry as you push your body forward. You don’t notice him holding up your phone behind you while slowly sliding his finger in and out of you. His saliva is mixing with your arousal as you answer in a gasp, “Yes.”

“Tell me why.”

“B-Because negative feelings are natural. When it comes to negative feelings, the most important thing to remember is to learn,” you pause to exhale with quivering lips, “to control certain potentially harmful thoughts.” You whine his name when another finger is added to your heat. You’re moving your hips back and forth until he slaps your wet folds as a warning. “Sorry,” you peep and continue in a breath, “Happiness all of the time entails epistemic irrationality.”

It’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you just want to indulge in his thrusts, but you’re encouraged to stop reading when he doesn’t comment on your moans. His pace is quickening and you chase his fingers with your hips, cum dripping down his wrist as you mewl.  

“You enjoying yourself, whore?”

You nod and whimper, “So much.” You’re clutching the edge of the desk as he fingers you with fervor.

“And you're my girl?” 

“Yes, all yours, I love you so much,” you pant, not stopping for a moment to question his words. He has a full view of your sopping wet cunt on the camera, and he lightly blows on you, making you shiver. He’s recording you confess your love for him while getting fingered.

“Only me?” he presses.

“Only you, Jungkook, I love you more than anything,” you slur as you start to feel a knot in your stomach.

“Then pee.”

“Wh-What?”

“Touch your clit and pee.” He removes his fingers from your clenching hole and takes a step back. “Prove your love to me.”

You mourn the loss of his hand while staring wide-eyed at the floor. You’re contemplating his demand as your hand slowly reaches down to your clit. Is he asking you to squirt? Your breathing is shallow as you near your climax, and you still don’t know if you’ll go through with his requirement.

It drips out in tiny drops as you come undone, moaning as clear liquid spills out of you for only a few seconds. 

“Good girl, my good little girl,” Jungkook whispers as he intently watches you humiliate yourself in the name of love. You’re twitching and trembling in shame when he stops recording you and sends it to Jimin without a second’s waste. “Are you okay, baby?”

You hum with a pout as you collect yourself by standing up straight, a sway in your posture. 

“Give me your panties, you’ve made a mess on the floor,” he chastises as he holds out a hand. You slip and step out of them before giving it to him. In return, he passes your phone before feigning a gasp, “Shit, I think I sent Jimin a video of you when I was trying to forward it to my phone.”

Your mouth falls open as heat consumes your entire being. “H-Huh?” Tears brim in your eyes almost instantly; your heart is pounding from anxiety.

“How will you ever look at him now,” he empathizes with a fake frown. “He must think of you as such a slut now.”

“Let me delete it,” you panic as you open your phone. “Wh-Where is it?”

He motions you to give him the phone and opens WhatsApp after. “He’s already seen it.” There are two blue ticks under the message.

“No, no, no,” you pull your hair in agony with a whimper. You quickly put your pants back on and cry as you do so.

“I guess that’s the end of your friendship,” he raises his eyebrows to himself without a hint of sympathy.

“What do I do?!” you wail and fling your hands in stress.

“Avoid him. I’ll make sure he won’t leak it.”

He steps forward to lean in your face intimidatingly. “And don’t talk to him ever again.”

You don’t exactly have a choice now, do you? 

[morningsunandnightsky]

My home | Lee Jeno

post-war au

Warnings: mention of war, mention of death, mention of pain (tell me if I forgot anything)

Words: 1.1K

Genre: angst

synopsis: You meant everything to him, but what if the truth doesn't turn out the way he once imagined?

an: This is something different from what I usually write. And I don't know how to feel about this especially since I haven't sent this one over to my beta reader. This also means there might be errors in this. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Winter, 1918

Four years after he left, the little village he called his home was unrecognisable. Streets that once were filled with tall houses were gone and only the remains were left. The usual peaceful atmosphere was replaced with melancholy, as pain and despair filled the air.

In the dark world that surrounded him, Jeno finds comfort in the snow that is falling down from the sky so gently. As if it's trying to say that not all is lost, and everything will be fine. As if it's indicating that the suffering has finally come to an end, and a new beginning is waiting.

But it's the thought of you that brings the most comfort to him.

You were the reason he kept going every time he felt like giving up. Whenever he thought he wouldn't see the daylight again he kept fighting for this very moment. To come home to you after the war had ended. To be able to hold you and not have to wonder when the next time will be when you see each other.

With a tired but content smile on his face, he hurries to reach home. He didn't even care if the house was destroyed or if you had to build everything up all over again, because as long as you were there, it was enough for him.

Jeno calls out your name when the familiar little house comes insight. It was a lot more worn down than he recalled but at least it was still standing.

No one responds so he jumps over the fence and walks up to the door. That's when he sees the letters on your front porch. The letters he had sent you over the last year. None of them was opened and the writing on some wasn't even visible anymore due to the time that had passed.

A thousand questions run through his head but the more he thinks about it, the lesser it makes any sense. You had been responding to all of his letters. You even told him a month ago that you would wait for him no matter how long it took. It was you. Was it? No, it had to be you, there was no other possibility. But as he looks back at the clearly unopened letters in his hands, he isn't so sure anymore.

When he steps inside the house, everything starts to fall into place. You weren't there anymore, and you hadn't been for a long time. Most of your belongings were gone, only a few trivial things were left behind.

He stops in his tracks when he sees the smashed photo frame with the only picture you had with each other still in it. It was taken before he had to leave for the war, you both had travelled to the next town just to have it taken. And had promised to always keep it with you so you could be together even when you weren't.

But now that he sees it laying at his feet covered with dirt and broken glass, he realises it didn't mean as much to you as it did to him.

The more he sees the more he questions but there isn't anyone who can provide him with any answers. Because you were nowhere to be found, your entire family was gone, as if you never existed.

He spends days and nights looking for you. Even visiting other towns and villages hoping he'd find you there. Convincing himself you left because it wasn't safe to stay anymore, that you were waiting on him, that you would come back to him, he stops worrying.

-

Spring arrives like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. It brings life and hope along, all of which were like sunshine on a rainy day. Rare, but very much welcomed.

Jeno spends all his time restoring your home, so it would be ready whenever you returned. Because waiting for you was all he did.

"What are you doing, my dear?" He hears his mother ask.

"I'm making new frames for the pictures"

The woman looks at her son with a pained expression. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the tears, she goes up to him and takes his hands in hers.

"Please don't do this. How long will you stay like this? There is no y/n. You know that."

"What are you talking about? Of course, there is, she is just away at the moment. But she will return soon." He says with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes don't hold any emotion at all, it's as if he isn't even there. Like his soul and body are at two different places.

"Jeno. Y/N doesn't exist."

"Don't lie to me! Can't you see her in this picture? You were there too when we took this!" he argues.

Tears start running down the woman's face when she looks at the pictures he is holding. Both are identical, with the only difference being that one is in slightly better condition than the other. But the only people in the picture are herself and Jeno.

She had insisted on taking the pictures, so she could at least have something from him with her. In case she would never see her son again.

"Come here," she says as she sits him down beside her.

"Look at the picture, now look at me"

"Mother, you don't look like Y/N! And you didn't even take any pictures that day."

"Please, my poor boy, please" a fresh set of tears stream down her cheeks.

"Do you think she will look the same now? Maybe she'll look different, don't you think? Did she change when I wasn't home?" he asks her, completely discarding her words.

"Her hair was this long and her eyes-" Jeno's eyebrows knit together as he stops mid-sentence.

He looks up again at his mother and down to the picture in his hands. He doesn't say anything for a while but keeps looking, he even takes the other one to compare.

His mother holds her breath anxiously, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Then everything hits him all at once. The day they went to town, the letters he wrote, his time at war, you.

You were never real. You were someone he made up so he wouldn't lose his mind in a place where death was more common than life. Where every minute was a wonder and a breath of air was a blessing.

He sought comfort in you. An escape from reality. His sought home in you.

"It's you" he finally says while his voice breaks.

[sweetaesuga]

in your eyes | m

pairing: jungkook x female reader!

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader! friends to lovers!

warnings: language, insecurity, drinking, dom jungkook! fingering in public, exhibitionism, female masturbation, grinding, oral (m), dirty talk, light choking, degrading (slut/whore), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (both are clean but stay safe), bathroom sex, riding, pinning.

word count: 10.6k+

synopsis: jungkook always sees you like the only girl in the world, and you just see him as a fuckboy. OR jungkook just wants a chance🥺

↳ a/n: first time i ever write a fic or smut please enjoy🤧 

You were only sixteen when you met him. He stepped into the classroom in all dark baggy clothes in an uneasy walk. At first glance you would of thought he was a timid person. Wrong, under all of that bullshit you see an egoistic and self-assured asshole that you're somehow happy to call your friend. You even learned that it was facade. Jungkook was a boy with a good heart who always remained loyal to all of his friends.

Jungkook just turned seventeen when he met you, noticing you straight away when you had a nice sense of fashion. You always had on an accessory that matched with the color of your shirt or jeans. You also always wore a bit of bright colors in your outfits. The bright unique makeup is what caught his attention too. He was proud to call you his friend.

When you both happily entered the same college along with your best friend Hayoon, everything changed. He began hanging out with a new group of friends, they were all older than them and deeply influenced him. He joined a fraternity then and began spending less time with you. He only came over to study or celebrate your birthday. His busyness merely reminded you how he preferred to spend his time hooking up with random girls every week rather than play board games with you or rant to him about your new book you were reading.

You don't exactly remember when he started but you do remember all the girls that talked about how amazing he was in bed which solely added more uncertainty on you. You even walked in on him and a freshman girl going at it in one of the sorority’s room at a party you were both attending.

The memory of when he started crushing on you was foggy to you but he always remembered it in a flash. It was when he had a taekwondo match, where circumstantially Jungkook's girlfriend, who wasn't really his girlfriend, at the time couldn't make it. His hopes were put down by the thought of someone not supporting him, since he always tried his best with his own cheerleader being there.

In the middle of the match, his eyes scanned the bleachers, wishing for someone to be there. His wishes were granted as he saw you there. Standing awkwardly, you gave him a little wave with a smile. His chest heaved in glee, sending you a quick smile before he returned to his match.

The sound of you screaming his name when he won, put a enormous smile on his face. Jungkook watched you run down the bleachers, apologizing to all the people you were bumping through. You leaped into his arms easily.

Your next words to him were a blur since Jungkook was too focused on just having you in his arms. He was grinning happily at you, hair sticking to his forehead. His heart heaved with warmth as you hugged him tightly.

He was twenty-one and you were twenty when he realized he had a crush on you.

You were seventeen when you realized you liked him.

But you were nineteen when you realized you would never be good enough for him.

"He then had the audacity to ask me if I slept with anyone else! The nerve of that guy," you felt like your ear was going to bleed out just by listening to your best friend blabber about her ex-boyfriend.

"Why don't you just stop talking to him? I don't know...block his number or something?" you suggested, very uninterested in this conversation about her ex-boyfriend contacting her. She could simply just block him out her life and be done with him. 

You stared at the worn out rubber of the tip of your black converse. She popped the gum in her mouth, the sound became annoying to you. Hayoon squinted her eyes at you, trying to find something to say to argue back to you. She instead changed the subject. "Where were you on Saturday?"

"Studying like the rest of the students here," you moved to rest your weight onto your right leg. "I just can't seem to understand how finals are coming up and some people are out here partying? The library was packed when I got there."

"Yeah well I wouldn't know because I didn't go," she grinned at you. "Instead I went to a party because I'm not a loser like you!" Hayoon giggled to herself and you rolled your eyes. "Also," she popped the gum loudly. "Jungkook was asking for you. Calling for his dream girl. . .or something like that—I don't know can't remember—too drunk you know?"

Your ears perked up to that. "Really?" you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that got in the way and leaned forward. "Did you remember why he was looking for me?"

Hayoon grinned again. "Even if I do know why would you care? Don't you hate him or something?" she smiled evilly and threw her head back.

You froze and leaned back to your seat. You know what she was trying to do and it was never going to happen.

You were never going to give Jeon Jungkook a chance.

Jungkook stumbled into the library, eyes searching for you immediately. There was nearly a crowd of students that were preparing for finals. "Hey have you guys seen Y/N?" he asked a study group. A girl in your class answered him, telling him that you were somewhere by the windows.

Of course you were, he thought to himself. You would be seated at your usual spot. He walked over to the windows and spotted you straight away. Watching your figure become closer as he walked further, he took the sandwich out of his bag. "Hey Y/N!" you already knew that voice. You looked up at Jungkook. As usual he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his usual dark baggy outfit, a black cargo jogger and a much darker hoodie with some black combat boots. He was showing off his helix piercing and his fresh new haircut.

"Nice haircut," you referred to his undercut and the fact that he was showing forehead. "Seems like you spent a lot of time on it."

"Yeah! Just for you," he smiled, his cheeks being pushed up. You let out a heavy sigh, clearly not in the mood for his flirtatiousness. "Got you a sandwich, by the way," he laid it in front of you.

You let out a small smile and took it from him, trying not to show how your mouth got watery so quickly. "Thanks, you didn't have to though," he shook his head.

"I don't want you starving to death," he sat down next to you, shoulder pressing against yours. "What are you studying for?" his nose nuzzled your ear. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away, ignoring the goosebumps his warm breath caused.

"Just getting my notes ready. Wanna highlight or color code it but feel like it's going to fuck up everything. Also don't wanna be those fucking girls that always have to make their fucking notes pretty. Also, do I look tired?" he studied your face for any features that made you seem exhausted. "I was up till two in morning watching these two Indian guys build a pool."

His eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I come across from those too."

"I know they came up all over my fucking Youtube recommendations. I got sucked into binge watching them. It makes me feel fucking lazy to be honest, the amount of fucking water they carry back and forth. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Jungkook snickered and made a note of how much you swore. "I need to make a swear jar for you. You swear too much."

"Not even," you laughed back at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm just a little frustrated and stressed right now," his gaze dropped on the purple pins in your hair, holding each side of your hair. "I called my mom and she said to not stress over this, but you know how I get," you frowned and turned to him. He finally took in your appearance. Your bright purple eyeshadow with purple gems adorning the top of it. You wore a purple flare pants and a white long sleeved, deep v-line crop top. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, trying to see if you had a bra on.

"Holy shit Y/N!" the students around him shushed him. He burned up and muttered a sorry to them, you giggled at how embarrassed he looked. "You look amazing. What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," you shook your head, a smile still on your face. "Can't I dress up once in awhile?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you normally only wear outfits like this when they’re new or it’s the first week of school. "Okay," you dragged your word out. "I got this outfit last week and really wanted to use it today. It's cute right?"

"Yeah, really cute," he toyed with your hair pins, messing up your hair.

Neglecting his comment, you carried on. "I even got up in early in the morning to do my makeup. If I'm gonna show up wearing a new outfit, I might as well have a cute ass face to go with it," you frowned when you remembered something. "And I realized I don't have different color hair pins, they're all purple so thank fuck the fucking pants are purple."

"Well I think you look very cute, Y/N. Boop!" he poked your nose gently. You swatted his hand away, warning him to stop but all you're given is a large bunny smile. "Come on, eat your sandwich. I didn't just come all the way over here searching for you just to talk to you."

"Actually you did bitch."

"Oof, swear jar," he rested his palm out in front you. You took a bite out of the sandwich, placing a quarter on his palm. "No a dollar, Y/N."

"No! What the fuck—wait!" he held out his palm again. "That's not fucki—hold up, you can't just say a dollar," you whined and grabbed your bag. "I don't have money growing out of my ass."

"I don't know that yet. I'm gonna have to check to make sure," you threw a dollar at him. He laughed and picked it up.

"I know your kind," you spatted at him and tossed the other two dollars at him which he easily caught. "Wanna drain my f-freaking bank account."

"Oh come on, I want you to be my sugar mama," he jested, leaning forward to give you a huge smug.

"Sucks to be you actually. I'm looking to be a sugar baby, not a sugar mama," you glanced over your shoulder towards him. His laugh echoed and you watched as students gave him a dirty look from how loud it was.

"Of course. You're the brokest bitch in the city no one actually wants you to be their sugar mama," you gasped at his words.

"Am not!"

"Are so!" you both laughed at each other. His hand searched for yours underneath the table. He must've noticed how tensed up you had gotten when he found it, managing to wrap your smaller fingers into his. "I've been meaning to talk to you by the way."

You groaned, knowing where this will be going. "Jungkook, stop I'm not in the mood," you caught a quick glimpse of the time. "Look, I have to go, my bus will be coming soon." You don't let him mention anything else. Bolting out of the library, you leave a crestfallen Jungkook behind.

He shook his head and took the half eaten sandwich you also left behind. He trailed behind you, backpack threatening to fall down his arm. You proceeded to walk to the bus stop, Jungkook just close behind. "Didn't see you at the party on Saturday?" the voice came from behind you. You opt to ignore it but by the sound of his voice it was easy to tell that he has been dying to ask this question. When you didn't answer him, he tried again. "Seriously where were you on Saturday?"

You sunk down on the bench. "None of your business."

"Well, I was kind of worried about you. I thought you were going to be there so that's why I came," he took a seat right besides you. "Once I saw you weren't there, I left."

"I was at the library studying for finals," you weren't sure why you were telling him this.  After his little confession your heart felt weird. If you hadn't told him though, he probably would've guessed it. Still, he needed confirmation.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? We could’ve studied together!" he complained, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook stop, I know what you're doing," you glared at him, wanting to get away. He frowned and reached over to hold you. "I already told you no," you hissed, disregarding the way his eyes appeared sunken at your response.

"Why not? I already told you, I'm not messing around anymore. I genuinely want to settle down with someone," he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt like your brain was going to explode. Your ears took in his words slowly. "I want to be with you."

"Jungkook, please—"

"Come on, one date. I swear to god I've changed," he ranted. He's always been very keen on having a chance with you, but with all those girls that he used to take home you felt otherwise. You would listen to the girls on how good Jungkook was. How good he looked at night in the dark moonlight. How he would manhandle them in random places. How his muscles would appear every time he flexed them. How those hips of his were a miracle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't ever want to see him that way too.

"I'm flattered, I really am—I just really don't want to be with someone like you. I'm sorry," you apologized, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He blinked then squinted his eyes at you. "What do you mean someone like me?" He sounded somewhat offended at your words.

"You used to fuck around!" you fumed and threw your hands up. The bus was coming down the road towards the two of you. "I don't like that."

"Why not?" He's way too stubborn to let you go, you forgot.

"Because...I just don't okay? Lets leave it there," you stood up and walked over to the bus once it opened its doors. He followed close behind. Before you can enter your dollar into the machine, he does it for you.

The bus driver smiled at him while you glared at him. You walked to the back of the bus, smiling to all the other passengers but secretly upset. Jungkook still followed you like a lost puppy. You slid down in the seat. Your left arm feeling the side of the bus once you properly sat down. "Here, I'll pay you back," you hold out the dollar bill but he sat still in his seat.

"Well shit, sugar mama not right now," You sighed and put it back in your bag. You heard him snort.

"Come on, tell me why you won't give me a chance and I'll leave you alone," he offered. He held your eyes for a moment before you let out a breath of air and looked away.

If he’ll leave you alone, then you must have to say why you won’t grant him a chance with you, a chance for him to become your boyfriend.

"I'm too insecure for you," he opened his mouth but you shushed him. "I'm not...how do I put this? I'm not like them?" you questioned and glanced over at him. He had a look of worry washed all over his face. "The girls that you were with are those who are all popular, party all day, and are very attractive. They all do casual sex, and I don't want be that type of person, I want something serious. Like you have dated Soojin! She's really pretty, makes me gay even," you chuckled at yourself. "That's not the point though. If I'm with you, all I could ever think about is the girls you were with and how different I am from them. I just can't be with someone when all I'll ever think about are my insecurities with them. So how could I possibly ever be good enough for you?" you don't look at him after that.

He sighed and gripped your small hand into his. You almost cringed when you remembered how sweaty your hands were. "That's why I'm after you though. You're not like them. I wanted a change. You are good enough, you'll always be good enough for me. Hell, I feel like I’m not good enough for you. And I really don't care if you're any of that other stuff. I still want to have a shot with you." you don't realize how long you both were holding eye contact. The two of you don't look away from each other however. You don’t even comprehend how close you two have gotten. He reached over to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched.

"I don't know Jungkook, I'm just really unsure," you admitted and leaned back in your seat to create some distance between you two. "My mind isn't clear right now but I highly doubt I would want to give you a chance."

"Really? You don't want me?" he bit his lip and glanced over at you. "How can I change your mind?" you stopped functioning when he reached over to press up against your thigh. His fingers travelled over to your inner thigh. He kept rubbing circles around there for a few minutes, hand drawing closer each time. Your cheeks grew crimson once you wrapped your mind around on how wet you become so quickly, and he barely even touched you what an embarrassment.

You were only getting aroused quickly because of how long your dry spell was. You haven’t being touched in so long that you craved it so much, no matter who it was with.

"What are you doing?" you hated how you felt so hot under his eyes at the moment. He brushed you aside until you repeated your question again.

"Nothing," his lips curved upwards. He faced forward, ignoring the fact that his hand was practically between your legs.

"Jungkook, stop that!" you hissed and whacked his hand away. He withdrew his hand from your inner thigh but still kept it at the top of your thigh. His thumb gently tracing circles into your skin.

"Bet you're fucking wet under that," he commented. You caught his stare, watching his eyes fixed on your cleavage. A smile forms across his face when he takes notice of how you're rubbing your thighs together. "Don't be scared, I'll go easy on you. You wearing those pink panties that I love on you?"

You knew what he was referring to. Leaving your laundry on your bed wasn't a good idea especially when an excited Jungkook was coming over to watch a new episode of You, but he didn't give you time to pick it up so your baby pink lace underwear was out on the sheets. "Shut up. I'm not going to let you do shit," you furiously crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes flickered back down to your breasts that were shoved up into a tighter position.

"Really? You say that but you're on the verge of asking me to touch you. I know it, Y/N," you bit your lip hard to avoid saying something. You heard him laugh. "It's okay, no one will notice, if you're a good slut and keep your mouth shut." Your eyes widened at his words.

You’ve never been called a degrading name in bed. With the two boyfriends you’ve been with, they always called you loving names that had gotten boring quick as well as their vanilla sex. Yet somehow it stirred you up at the thought of being called a slut, especially Jungkook calling you that.

But it was almost like a completely different Jungkook had surfaced. You knew he was some sort of sex god but didn't expect him to have such a dirty mouth. You decided to test the waters. A little fun wouldn’t hurt.

You spread your legs a little wider, inviting him to get closer. He stared into your eyes as you stared down at his hand. "Unbutton your pants," he demanded. Your eyes expanded even more at his words. You were just thinking of getting him eager not to do something here.

You looked around to see if anyone could see or hear you two but they were all facing forward and minding their own business. Your hands went to unbutton your pants, pushing your zipper down. "Open your legs," you did as you were told. "Wider, wider," your right leg rested on top of his muscular thigh. "You wet enough?" he asked, reaching down to your core. You shivered when his hand entered your underwear. He sinks his two fingers in and you whined. He took his fingers out, gazing on the glistening wetness on it.

"Dirty fucking slut," he murmured and dig his fingers back into you. You gripped his wrist harshly but encouraged him to add more fingers. He complied and proceeded to finger you in the back of the bus. "Never thought I would finger the girl of my dreams in the back of the bus," he chuckled as he heard you calling out his name. "You gotta be quiet if you don't wanna get caught." he teased softly. He pounded his fingers into you faster. His eyes laying upon your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. You began to nudge into his fingers, meeting him halfway with the movement of your hips. Your grip on his wrist tightened as he touched your clit with the tip of his finger. He snorted and proceeded to move against you, ignoring his hardness that was forming in his pants. You threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Jungkook clutched your knee, forcing you to open wider. You raked over the passengers in the seat, who are still unaware of you getting fingered at the back of the bus. You moaned into his hoodie. You let go of his wrist to hold his bicep. He looked down at you. He reached over to cup your face, bringing your lips to meet his. You’re taken back a little but nonetheless you open your mouth to tempt him to slid his mouth in. He fulfilled your craving. The two of you looked like random teenagers making out in the back but what they couldn't see was his fingers stuck up your wet core.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you said under your breath, pulling away from his redden lips. His fingers pounded brutally into you. He showed no sign of slowing down.

"You make a fucking noise and I swear to god I will take you on this bus full of people. I don't give a fuck, Y/N," your pussy quenched around him at that. Your wetness glimmered on his fingers.

"Oh my god, Jungkook, oh my god," you moaned against his neck. Hiding your face from him, you picked up the pace of your hips. "Uh—fuck, holy shit do that again," you referred to him touching your clit. He does that again. "Oh fuck," you whimpered when you felt an uneasy feeling building up within you. "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yeah? That fucking early? I knew your little pussy wouldn't be able to take it," Jungkook's lips formed a smirk. "And this is just with my fingers babe. Bet you can't handle my dick," you ignored him. You sobbed into his neck and leaned up to kiss him in efforts to silence your moans, cumming hard all over his fingers. It takes two minutes before you released Jungkook from the kiss. He drew his hand away from your skirt and made sure you were holding eye contact with him when he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

You gulped. Reality finally hit you. You had let Jungkook finger you in the back of the bus. 

You pushed back against your seat and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone on the bus was still unaware and you felt like you can breathe again. "Holy shit I can not believe we just did that," you brushed your hair back, somewhat disappointed at yourself for not stopping him.

Jungkook's smile surfaced. "I can't believe you just let me do that. Wanna return the favor?" he asks jokingly but watched your face to see if you were willing to suck him off. His hopes are put down when a frown appeared on your face and he could tell you wouldn't feel comfortable with that. "Joking babe."

"Don't call me that, please," you stressed. "This was a mistake, seriously don't ever speak of this with any of your friends. We're not going to speak of it either."

"I wasn't even going to," he muttered and looked away. "Funny how it's a mistake, Y/N, when you were over here telling me to keep going."

You fanned yourself, flapping your hand back and forth in front of your face. Jungkook looked at the layer of sweat near your hairline that glistened under the sunlight. "Stop, it was in the heat of the moment. It seriously was a mistake," he opened his mouth but you carried on. "Especially in the back of the bus, oh god, I'm really disappointed in myself," you zipped up your flare pants, not minding that your underwear is sticking to you.

"And I'm really disappointed in you too, for not giving me a chance," Jungkook said with knitted eyebrows. You sit away from him, making sure there was a good amount of space between the two of you. "Oh are you just going to ignore me now?" he isn't given a response, your tongue knotted together in your mouth. "So that's how it's gonna be now?"

You gathered your bag. The bus curving towards the upcoming bus stop. "This is my stop," you disclosed. He captured your forearm which quickly caught your attention.

"Don't be like this, Y/N." You shrug him off and walked out of the bus, leaving Jungkook and his gloomy thoughts behind.

"Shut up, stop playing with me!" Hayoon exclaimed, her eyes glimmered with interest as you filled her in on the day before. "You did not let Jungkook finger you on the back of the bus," she laughed out loud at her sentence, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You groaned and sunk your head back down on the table. "I mean gross, but hey, you're catching dick."

"I'm not catching dick, and stop saying it's gross it makes me even more disappointed in myself."

"I just don't understand how you can tell him you don't want him and tell him the reasons why and then let him finger you at the back of the bus?!" your face scrunched up at her words. "I seriously don't get it Y/N. It's like you're provoking the guy that's going after you and that's pretty fucked up. Play with his dick, not his emotions, oh wait—”

"I told him no multiple times."

"Then why the fuck would you let him finger you in the back of a bus?" Hayoon rubbed her temple before munching on a fry. "I think you do have a crush on him, you just don't want to date him because of all the girls he’s been with.”

You let her words settle in your mind for a moment, not even realizing that she held your hand in hers. "But baby, that's called the past. It's the least thing you got to worry about since you already know it. Take a risk, go out with him. He's ready to be in a serious relationship with you, he's been telling me this since Friday."

You sighed, lips forming a pout. "I don't know."

"Well make up your mind quick cause' he's coming this way," her words are rushed as she glanced over at Jungkook, who's heading over your way.

"What?!" you're just about to turn your head his direction when Hayoon grabbed your jaw.

"What are you doing you stupid bitch?! Don't look—okay, pretend like I'm not here, pretend like I'm not here!" she turned away from you and placed her earbuds in her ears.

"Wait does my hair look good?!" you caught her by the arm before she can leave.

"For who?"

You snapped her head towards Jungkook, who's already smiling at you. His black cap floated over his eyes as he dug his fingers into the pockets of his jogger pants. You coughed when you perceived that you were checking him out. "Um, no one. Just wanted to see if it's messy," you don't know why but your cheeks burned so hard, maybe at the fact that you know it is messy.

His hand came in contact with your head before he moved a strand of your hair that looked out of place before pushing your baby hairs down. You swatted his hands away, ignoring how your warm ears were tingling. "There, it's not that messy anymore. I brought something."

He sat down besides you. You eyes fluttered over to Hayoon. She spread a smirk out on her lips. While Jungkook continued finding the item he wanted to show you, something along the words that it was a jar. Her fist comes up besides her mouth, opening it slightly. Your cheeks become crimson when she began to push her left fist towards her mouth while her tongue kept knocking into her right cheek.

"Here," Jungkook placed a jar in front of you, the bright glittery letters mocking you. Swear Jar, it read at the front. "Every time you cuss, it's more money to my bank account."

Your lips loop downwards into a frown. Your eyebrows furrowed together in the progress. "Not fair, I told you I didn't want to be a sugar mama."

"Fine, this is both of our swear jar."

"Deal."

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about yesterday," he put the glittery jar, he decorated last night for you, back in his backpack. A sudden weight pressed down on your shoulders at the thought of him bringing up what happened yesterday.

"Jesus Christ, what do you carry in there?" Hayoon added unintentionally and you're thankful for that. As much as she wanted to know about the encounter between the two of you, she also wanted to know what Jungkook carried in that big bag of his.

"Dildos."

"Wait, deadass?" she jumped up in her seat. I snorted at her, earning a glare. Jungkook's lips formed a line, specifying that he was joking. "Well fuck, it just looks like it's gonna break your back. Dude you know what that reminds me of?" she asked you. Your mind doesn't come across anything so you shook your head. "The Rosie girl? She was giving dildos out at this campus cause' she wanted to, quote, fight absurdity with absurdity. All over Twitter. Wish I could be there to get one."

Jungkook's eyes crinkled up as he laughed at her. The sound ringing through your ears, only to devaste you even more. "Can we talk about yesterday?" he leaned over and whispered to you.

You swore you felt his lips brushing against your ear. It stirred up your brain. "What about yesterday?" your hands started shaking and you hoped he didn't see how anxious you have become.

Luck wasn't on your side today however, his upcoming question boosting your anxiety even more. "Why are your hands shaking so much?" he grasped his bigger hand in yours.

You are quick to take it out of his. "We agreed that we wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. It was a mistake I didn't—"

"No, you agreed that we wouldn't talk about it," his voice raised slightly to get your attention. Your mouth snapped shut. "We need to talk about it. How the fuck can you be playing with my feelings like this?" Hayoon whistled, mentally seeing eye to eye with Jungkook. "I want to have a chance with you, a shot at us. You give me all these mixed signals and then when I try to make a move on you, all of the sudden you act like a bitch Y/N."

"Well what do you want me to say? That I fucking like you back too?" you challenged and stood up from your chair. The students around you turned their heads over to you, watching the scene in front of them unfold. "How the fuck am I even playing with your feelings? I said I wanted to just be friends! I'm sorry that you're misinterpreted our friendship but that's not my problem!" you wished you could've shut your mouth but all you could see was red. Perhaps you were letting go of all the rage you’ve ever resented over him for the past months.

For ditching you to attend parties or being with other girls. For not always being there for you.

"What the fuck do you mean that's not my problem?!" he mimicked you, staring up at you. "You let me finger you and you expect me to believe that you just wanna be friends? Are you even listening to yourself?! You felt something back there."

Hayoon stepped in, walking over to the two of you. "Okay, I think you guys should just shut up," your eyes wandered around the room, where everyone was watching your interaction.

"Whatever," Jungkook's chair scraped the floor harshly as he pushed it back. He dug into his backpack before placing the jar in front of you. "You can keep that and this," he put down a package full of glittery hair pins, all different colors. Your heart wrenched as you watched him walk away, sullen. His steps are quick so he can take the attention off of him.

You turned the jar and saw that the top had words on it. Splattered in messy pink glitter, Sugar Mama's Swear Jar :D.

Jungkook was avoiding you. You could tell because he stopped coming after school to study with you, which was okay at first until you found yourself yearning for him.

It was stupid, really. After all that debate on how you two should just stay friends, you can't just tell him how much you miss him. That'll make you seem like an ass.

And trust me that's the last thing you want.

Your day was going bad, your professor yelled at you for not paying attention and put you in the spot, embarrassing you in front of the class. You were okay until a girl gave you a look of pity and you had a breakdown in the bathroom right after.

When you went to go meet up with Hayoon, it'll only got worse. She cancelled on you after forcing you to wait for her for thirty minutes. Just as you're leaving a group of middle schoolers thought it would be funny to step on a ketchup packet and let splatter everywhere, resulting in the back of your white top covered in dots of ketchup.

You swore you almost hit the kid who came up with it, even thought about running him over when you saw that the stains were everywhere and even in your hair.

After showering and getting the ketchup out of your hair, you went to work that ensued in you coming home with mascara practically running down your eyes, that were ready to pour out tears if something else happened to you, due to you wrongly mixing up orders and getting yelled out by a customer.

Now here you were, sitting on the living room floor with wet hair after taking another shower which mainly just involved you sitting on the tile floor and crying. You ate the Chinese takeout you have gotten during the way, ignoring the way people were staring at you, with sympathy.

It was the last thing you needed. Maybe karma was coming to get you for saying those things to Jungkook. But at this point all you wanted was some reassurance, a shoulder to cry on, someone to be there for you.

Jungkook.

You couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Hell, you even closed your eyes for a solid thirty minutes yet you were not able to drift off into slumber. Maybe it had to due with the weather? It was freezing, if you stepped a foot outside you would become an ice sculpture in an instant.

Or maybe, the most logical one compared to all the others, was Jungkook fingering you on the bus. You can't seem to get that scene off your mind. Your brain kept drifting over on how stunning he appeared, his dark eyes staring straight at yours as he watched your mouth form an O shape. He only ever broke eye contact when he snuck a look of how his fingers vanished into your pants.

Then your mind would stumble onto the memory of you yelling at him, telling him how his feelings for you were not your fault. You despised yourself at that moment. You sighed and laid back into your pillow, staring up into the ceiling. "I can't believe I am even having these types of thoughts," you slowly opened your legs while shutting your eyes. As long as you don't think about him, it'll be okay.

But you do. Sliding off your underwear, the first thing you thought about was Jungkook. His bunny smile rested on his face. You opened your eyes to get him off your mind and closed them again. You let out a gentle moan when you feel how wet you are.

He came back again. This time he settled right besides you on the bed. His hand is shoved between your legs. You moaned when he buried his head in your neck and kissed your skin there. "You like that, princess?"

You frowned immediately, he didn't call you any pet names. From what you can remember, he called you a degrading name.

"You like that dirty slut?" you mewled at him. He moved his fingers ceaselessly inside of you whilst breathing down your neck.

The sound of a zipper being undone makes your eyes crack open. You took a glimpse of Jungkook, his hand disappearing inside his jeans that displayed his muscular thighs.

You whined at him and he hovered on top of you. Your breathing got heavier as his cock sprung out of his jeans. "Oh god," you moaned as he slid himself inside of you so effortlessly. Your hands moved quicker inside of you. Feeling your wetness spill out of you and onto the mattress underneath you, you imagined him pounding into you. Your hands clamped on his long hair with your legs in the air as his hips furiously snapping into you.

It doesn't take you long to cum, given the fact at Jungkook's pace it seemed like he wasn't going to stop. He disappeared, leaving you sweaty and tired on the bed with your fingers stuck inside you. "Holy shit, I can not believe I just did that.

Recalling your words that were thrown at Jungkook, a heavy weight on your shoulder returned heavier as ever, reminding you how you practically lost your shot with him.

Shame on you for not giving Jeon Jungkook a chance.

"I think I was too harsh on him."

"You think? Don't lie to me bitch, you know you were fucking harsh on him," Hayoon stood in the middle of your room, scanning your closet for a dress she can wear to a party.

It was almost three days since your argument with Jungkook in front of everyone. You expected to make up with him on Thursday but Jungkook avoided you like you were the plague. He didn't text you for any notes he needed to borrow, nor did he usually come to study with you or leave you a sandwich. You never realized how apart of your life he became, especially when he didn't sit next to you for one of your shared classes. Instead, he chose to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend. It was Friday now and to be quite honest, you missed him.

"Don't trip about it. He could be at the party tonight, getting over you and possibly getting himself a girlfriend so you don't have to worry about him pinning over you. Now what the fuck should I wear?"

You didn't like the sound of that. Jungkook possibly finding another girl. Your consciousness settled back in your mind. How can you even say shit like that? You rejected him, you have no right to tell him not to move on. You sighed to yourself and laid back into the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't wanna see him."

"I don't wanna see him." she dragged the straps of your orange dress up her figure. "Shut up because on Wednesday you kept asking why he wouldn't talk to you, like bitch I wouldn't talk to you either with that shit you pulled back there."

"Why not?"

"You're not serious right?" she turned back to you. She raised her eyebrow, challenging you. You groaned and followed her out of the room when she didn't receive an answer. "That's what I thought," you heard her under her breath.

"Not gonna lie, I think I'm gonna break my ankle with these bitches," you pointed down at your high heels, slowing down. You stopped to fix them. Hayoon carried on walking to her car, leaving you behind.

"You wanted to wear them. Now get in," she honked her horn. You hissed at her, reminding her that the neighbors are going to complain. "Don't give a fuck, get in loser we're going to party!" she honked her horn longer.

You ran to her car when you realized she wasn't going to stop. "You need the swear jar, you stupid bitch."

"Not even," before you could say something back, her music blasts through the car. She screamed out the lyrics, encouraging you to join along. "In your eyes! You lie but I don't let it define you—oh define you!"

"You sound like a dying cat."

"I tried to find—fuck you then."

Along the way you started to wonder how she even got her driver's license. Hayoon almost went on the sidewalk when she was tried to park which forced you to get out of the car and direct her.

"Keep going, keep going."

"Fuck, bitch you sure? I don't want another ticket for being on the red line," her head stuck out to make sure she wasn't going to hit the car behind her.

"Yes I'm sure—okay stop!" Hayoon shuts off the engine, stumbling out of the car. She laughed to herself before walking up to the fraternity house with you. "Okay, I forgot what it was like coming here."

The first smell that filled your nostrils was vomit. You glanced down towards the ground and saw a distraught girl on the front lawn throwing up while her friend rubbed her back. Hayoon advised you not to look, to give the poor girl some pity. Reluctantly, you entered the house with a clumsy walk. Hayoon noticed and suggested that you go have a drink. You at first declined but once your eyes scanned the room and landed on Jungkook leaning against a wall with a redhead clinging onto him. You made your way to the open kitchen. Unknown to you, jealousy boiled in your stomach.

So that's how you end up on your first shot of a tequila with a cup of vodka already resting in your liver. You weren't drunk, still you were not far from being tipsy. Conscious enough to see that Jungkook's eyes were on you while you downed the shot. Eyes focused on your throat as you swallowed. He exhaled, watching you pull out your phone and tap away. The red head girl right besides him, tried calling his name out to hook his attention. He brushed her off, muttering something to her that he didn't sleep around anymore.

His frustration grew even more when he saw you wandering over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies were grinding on each other. Your flimsy black silky dress was not doing him justice either, seeing how tight it was on your figure. It showed off your curves well; he hated how good you looked. There was a big opening in the back that stopped near your hips. Should be a crime to look that good, he thought to himself while trying to keep his eyes on you.

Your hips swayed to the music blasting throughout the house. You opened your eyes, landing on Jungkook immediately. His eyes devouring you as he took a sip of his beer, eyes locked on your hips. You tried not to look at him again but still wondered what was going in that mind of his. You raised your hands up in the air, dress threatening to rise up.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Squinting one eye open to take a peek of Jungkook but you failed to locate him.

A gasp left your mouth as someone pressed their front on your back, rubbing their crotch on your ass. A whiff of the sweet scented Victoria Secret perfume gave the identity away. You tilted your head so that it laid on his chest. Confirming your thought, Jungkook stared down at you with dark eyes. His arm muffled around your waist to press you further into his chest. He felt his body go ease when he saw your lips bunch up into a smile. Your hips rocked from side to side on him. Jungkook held his hand on your waist, encouraging you to continue. You willingly do so arms flinging on his neck as you dragged yourself down his chest. His growing bulge poked your ass as you grind yourself on him. Your head laid back on him. Jungkook leaned down to meet your lips. His mouth entwined with yours, lip gloss rubbing off onto his mouth. You moaned into his mouth and sensed that his hand was harshly holding one of your ass cheeks.

"You wanna go upstairs?" He was somewhat taken back at your suggestion but agreed nonetheless. With his fingers keeping a firm grip on yours, the two of you went upstairs.

He guided you towards the room, which all winded up preoccupied due to freshman trying to lose their virginities. You cringed when you come face to face with someone's bare ass pushing against the lanky girl. Jungkook pushed you into the bathroom, telling a man to fuck off when he tried getting in.

"Hey," you glanced up from the floor onto Jungkook's eyes. He offered you a small awkward smile, warming your heart as if he wasn't rubbing his dick on your ass a few minutes ago.

"Hi," your voice sounded very small and Jungkook wanted to reach out and reassure you that he only came up to you to apologize, not to have you grind on him in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," you began, eyes fixed to the ground. "Everything I said on that day was really fucked up. I care about your feelings. I care about you and I was giving you mixed signals and it's not okay."

"I'll be fine," his hand held your arm, rubbing it slightly. "It's okay if you don't return my feelings, I'll get over it—"

"But that's the thing I don't want you to get over it."

Jungkook blinked once, twice, and then another third time. Trying to comprehend your words while also trying to figure out what he was going to say was hard.

Your glossy lips moved. "I'm really willing to give you a chance and I'm so sorry for being such a cunt about it. I just—I needed some realization to understand my feelings. Truth is I've had a crush on you, but every time I saw you with these girls I always told myself I'm not good enough for you and that I'll never be. I’m also mad at the fact that you’re barely realizing your feelings towards me just now.”

He doesn't say anything which doesn't help your anxious state at the moment. Your gut scolded you, reminding you that you probably lost your chance and now you look like an idiot to him right now, confessing your feelings.

Jungkook sighed before embracing you. You stand still in shock from his sudden movements but chose to hug him back. His chin dropped down onto your head. "You're good enough for me, Y/N. You always have been and I'm sorry that it took me all these years for me to realize that."

"I couldn't stop thinking of you and all the shit I said. I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart," you admitted.

His bulge pushed against you and your cheeks flushed warm. Jungkook didn't say anything but bent down to kiss you. His lips moved roughly against yours. Your fingers coming up towards his hair to run through them. His hands digging harshly into your ass, possibly leaving small bruises behind but you're unbothered by it.

You pulled away, enough to stare up at his eyes. "I seriously couldn't stop thinking about you. I fucking masturbated to you, just by thinking of the bus shit," you confessed, watching his face lit up in surprise.

"Yeah? What was going on in that head of yours?" he encouraged you. You giggled at him, his thigh coming between your thighs.

"Your fingers in my pussy," your cheeks burned pink as he coaxed you to go on. "Your big dick pounding in me."

The look on his face is priceless but it just stayed there for a mere second as Jungkook recollected himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth, never in a million years would he ever imagine you of all people saying this. The warmth travelled towards his crotch as he hardened at your words. His friend of seven years, his crush for almost two years was here in front of him, revealing that she touched herself to the thought of him. A blissful comfort spread all over his body.

"Don't you want that to happen?" he didn't even realize how close you were, he was too caught up in his thoughts. "You don't want to fuck my brains out?"

Your thighs closed around his thick ones. You reached up to kiss his neck, pecking his soft skin. Jungkook grunted as you left open mouth kisses behind, gripping his hand and directing it near your hips.

"I can't do it here," Jungkook whispered to you once he grasped the circumstances. In a fraternity bathroom with people out there that can possibly hear you two? Jungkook would never allow himself to touch you here the first time you two have sex. You whined against him, rubbing your crotch on his thigh. "Shit, seriously Y/N? You're making this hard for me."

"What your dick? Why? I don't care where we do it. I just—I need it to happen—come on Jungkook fuck me," if your mind wasn't clouded by lust you would been very disappointed at yourself for what you were saying, but you could care less. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He was fighting with himself.

The only sound in the bathroom was the loud heavy bass music playing and the two of you heavily breathing. "Do you want me to go find another guy out there that can do the job for you or what?" you tried riling him up and it worked cause Jungkook was staring at you with dark hooded eyes. "Cause' I could walk out there and take any guy home with me do you want that?" you both know deep down you wouldn’t be able to do that. You’re too shy.

Jungkook came across as if something possessed him suddenly. His hair falling over his eyes slightly. His tongue came out of his mouth to moisten his lips. "Get on your fucking knees," Jungkook snapped, a hand going back to get tangled in your hair. You dropped down to the ground. "I wanna see your pretty tits," you pulled down the straps of your dress and got rid of your strapless bra, throwing it aside. "Well aren't you a desperate cock sucking whore?" you whined at him with your dress bunched up around your waist. "What don't tell me you like being called that?" he chuckled. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation.

You reached over to unzip his jeans. He merely let out a chuckle, extremely satisfied with your avidity. As you rolled down his boxers, his hand wrapped around your hair. "Look up at me, whore," your eyes jerked up to him. "Open your mouth," you gulped at the size, wondering if it was even going to fit in your poor mouth. He teased, rubbing the head of his cock on your lips when you did. Your jaw ached as you tried opening as wide as you can to please him. You looked up at him as he slid his cock in your mouth. He groaned, loving the warmth and wetness of your mouth surrounding him. He maintained the eye contact between you two whilst he carried on shoving his dick in your throat. You moaned and moved back once it hit your throat. But before you can, he gripped the back of your hair firmly and thrusted his hips forward. You gagged around him, tears brewing and ready to burst out. You extended your hands out to his thighs. He held your head in place, his cock shoving down your throat at an animalistic speed. "What a good little slut," he eventually praised you. "Letting me fuck her throat hard and shit," you shut your eyes.

You regret doing so. Feeling a tug to your hair, your eyes snap open and look up. "You get praised like a good bitch once and you think you can be a bad girl? I don't think so, whore," he stared straight into your eyes with his dark orbs devouring you. Your drool slithering down your chin. You peer up at him with desperation written all over your face. Your fingers glided down to your dress. You kept your gaze on him when your fingers entered your pussy, feeling how wet you are. "Are you seriously touching yourself?" he sounded thrilled at the idea. Jungkook stopped moving for a second, allowing you to suck on the head of his cock. He watched mascara run down your cheeks, feeling some sort of ego boost that he was making you look this way.

You nodded frantically, moving your fingers faster. You sucked him harder, your jaw throbbing as you attempted to deep throat him. He forced your head deeper so that your nose was touching his pubic hair. "I didn't give you permission, disobedient slut. You got three seconds to finish," he finished with a sullen laugh, knowing you weren't. "One, two–" Jungkook watched your eyes become watery as you hopelessly tried to get yourself to cum in just three seconds. "—three, take your fingers out whore."

You obeyed and showed him your fingers, glittering under the bathroom light, even though on the inside you were begging to be touched again. You thought of going against him. Jungkook let a cackle escape from his mouth. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet I bet you're fucking leaking out onto the floor."

You mewled, bobbing your head up and down. Releasing his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop, you batted your eyelashes up at him. "I'm so fucking wet for you," he flashed you a quick grin, obviously content with your answer. He brought your fingers up to his mouth, sucking them off while maintaining eye contact with you. His tongue swirled around your finger as you repeat the same motion on his cock. He released your finger.

"You can use your hands," you pull away right after he said that. You pumped him rapidly, your hand moving back and forth. Your ears took in his grunts, feeling some pride for causing him to make those noises. He almost came when he felt your warm, wet mouth around one of his balls.

"I want you to cum on my tits." he agreed, staring down at you. Tension builds within his stomach as he groaned out loud. You gaped at him when his cum shoots towards your neck, aiming towards your breasts.

Jungkook's breathing became heavier as he came back down from his blissful state that he was in. He grew hard in a instant when he saw how fucked you looked. Your mascara running down your eyes, leaving a trail of black ink behind. Your hair was tangled together into a mess due to him gripping it so tightly. With saliva dripping down your red swollen smeared lips, his eyes drifted further down. The straps of the dress you were wearing were rolled out into your stomach, exhibiting your perky breasts that are smeared with his cum.

"You look like a fucked whore," he smiled at you with satisfaction resting in his mind.

You giggled at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah, not just for you," you gazed up at him, a small smile on your lips.

He helped you get off the floor. His facial expression is now serious, indicating that he wasn't happy with your answer. Jungkook's fingers tapped the cold surface of the sink, indicating to sit down on it. You do so, opening your legs slowly.

He watched, eyes strictly locked in between your legs. "Who are you so wet for?" he asked.

You snorted and shrugged which only grew him more frustrated.

Jungkook growled and flipped you over. He bended you over the bathroom sink and bore his eyes into you by the mirror. "You wanna keep acting like a slut, you're might as well be fucked like one," you silently squealed in excitement. Jungkook lifted your dress up in one go. He pulled your underwear down, making you step out of them. "Put your leg on the counter," he commanded and you do as you're told. Lifting your right leg on the counter while the other one remained on the ground. You heard him frantically pull down his jeans. You gasped when you feel the tip on your entrance. He reached over for the condom on the counter.

"No!" you exclaimed. Jungkook stopped and looked down at your worriedly, wondering if you wanted to stop now. You gulped, feeling your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Don't use one please." you whined. "I want to feel you raw."

You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was fucking thriving. "Yeah? My fucking slut wants me to do her raw?" he started pushing himself. You held your breath as your walls allowed him to enter, tightening around his big shaft. His cock rimmed inside of you

"Y-yeah," you manage to choke out, staring at him through the mirror. He maintained eye contact to where your bodies connected, watching his cock sink into you as he held your hips in place. 

"Has any other guy fucked you raw, slut?" Jungkook brought his hand around your throat. You sensed that you could orgasm right there. You shook your head as he finally is inside of you fully. "What was that? Use your words, come on you're a big girl," he gripped your inner right thigh with so much strength, he could break it off if he tried. I mean those biceps.

"N-no only you. Just for you," he grinned at that.

"Good," you let out a loud moan when he started finally moving. His hips rutted into yours at an animalistic speed. He stared at you through the mirror, watching how your mouth opens and your breasts jiggle. He pressed your throat a little harder. "Bet no guy ever made you feel this way."

"Only you, Jungkook! Only you!" you manage to breath out. Your knuckles are almost white by how hard you're holding onto the counter. He lowers himself so his face is near your ear.

"Yeah? Look at you, telling me how I'll never have you yet you're over here drooling over my dick. Fucking whore." you whined harder as he breathed down your neck. You feel yourself began getting more wetter at his words. "Imagine what your family and friends will say when they find out you're letting me fuck you in the ass in a dirty bathroom at a frat party."

You shut your eyes, your pussy swallowing him back in. His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter. "Fucking slut," he snapped his hips at you. You moaned out loud, shamelessly. "On the dance floor dancing like one."

"Because I am one," he chuckled at that, fingers coming up to pinch your nipple.

"Yeah? Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?" the grip on your throat tightened, not enough to block your airway however. Jungkook kept his eye on you through the mirror, your lips molding into an oval shape. His palm came down to meet one of your asscheeks. You jumped forward, Jungkook pulling you back onto his cock. He stopped moving to lock eyes with you through the mirror, his lips hovering over your ear. "When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer," you tried to move your hips a bit but he caught you before you can. "Now," his voice deepened. "Whose slut are you?"

"Your slut! I'm your slut! Jungkook, please—"

"Yeah? Scream when I fuck you so that everyone knows who your pussy belongs to," his hips rammed into you again. You swore you can feel him fucking into your cervix. You let a loud moan break free from your mouth, his hot breath fanned your ear.

A roaring pounding on the door snapped his head away. You whimpered and become aware that his pace was reducing as his attention was now on the other man trying to get in. Jungkook yelled out words that sounded fuzzy to your ears considering all you could hear is your heartbeat.

"No, no, Jungkook don't stop," you pleaded with him, twisting yourself to look at his lust filled eyes. "I'm almost there please!"

You almost screamed at him when he pulled out. He sat on the toilet lid, tapping his thighs that were spread out in front of him. "Ride me," he demanded. You're somehow quick on your wobbly legs, getting on top of him. You grasped his swollen red cock, lining it up with your entrance before sinking down.

Jungkook's hand went towards your hip to support you while the other one went further down to touch your swollen clit. His mouth came near your ear as you cried out his name. "If you don't come in the next minute, you're not cumming tonight, got it slut?" you panted but nonetheless nodded frantically.

And with that Jungkook sat back, watching you fuck yourself on his cock, you were basically using him as a toy and Jungkook loved that. The desperation look on your face was amusing and Jungkook stored in in his memories.

"Oh shit! Fuck I'm almost there," his palm travelled further down to rub your ass.

"Time's almost up," he wasn't actually keeping track but your determination to cum on such a short amount of time was adorable to him. Your thighs smacked his, bouncing on his cock faster. Jungkook's finger carried on rubbing against your clit, his eyes trailing down from your face to your bouncing breasts.

Your eyes rolled back as you heaved up. Your mouth opened wide, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Jungkook heard his name leave your mouth, panting. He almost came when he felt something warm soak into his jeans. Looking down, he became aware of what just happened.

"Fucking dirty slut," he hissed and allowed you to relax your head on his shoulder as your whole weight sunk down on him. His ears took in your sniffles. "Look what you did, squirted all over me slut."

Your cheeks burned in humiliation, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

You gasped when he lifted his hips up to meet yours. You cried out to him to stop but Jungkook's quick to silence you with his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Your tears threatened to spill. "You're so tight, fuck! Need to fuck you more, whore,"

It doesn't take long for him to sprout into you, judging the way you tightened around him and how fucked your face look when he looked down to meet your eyes. With his cum coating your walls, he slid out of you. A bit of cum came out and dropped down to his black pants leaving a white stain behind.

You attempted to stand out on your own but failed due to you not being able to feel your legs for a second. Luckily, Jungkook is there to help you. He bent down to help you put on your underwear.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked while zipping up his pants. You checked your face in the mirror, noticing the hickeys all over your neck and the mascara smothered down your cheeks.

You turned to look at him, pulling your dress down."Are you really asking me after we just had sex? Where's my bra by the way?" your face is met with your bra when he flung it at you.

He laughed, watching you put it on. "Yeah, seriously though are you?"

"Why? If I'm going to be your sugar mama I might as well be your baby mama." Jungkook looked stricken and you snickered, bringing your hand up to hide your mouth. "I'm joking," you wiped your face with some wet wipes you found in the drawers.

"Not funny, was ready to fucking make a run for it."

It was your turn to look stricken as Jungkook laughed. You frowned and slapped his chest.

It goes quiet, the loud bass music now coming back to fill your ears instead of Jungkook's moans. He stood awkwardly near the corner while you threw away the wipes you used to remove your makeup. Running your fingers through your hair, you turned towards him.

"So, does this mean that you're going to give me a chance?" the man in front of you standing like an anime character asked, as if he wasn't calling you degrading names a few minutes ago.

You smiled at him and lunged forward to kiss him. "Yes, I'll give you a chance Jungkook."

↳ in your heart; drabble collection