#i don't know if i want this in the tag but i'm also like. no someone please talk to me about this game. goddamn. so at least | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ateezscupid · 2 days ago

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─── FEB FILTH FEST: The Hills - HATE SEX ♡

SUMMARY / You tried to confront your ex, but neither of you could ignore the tension between you two.

warnings ✩ PORN LINK, SMUT, switch!yeosang, switch!reader, fem!reader, so much anger, so much hate, ANGST ANGST ANGST, unprotected sex, degradation (m & f), choking (m & f), literally at each others necks, both of you have cheated on each other

word count ✩ 2,89k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

Knock knock!

You recognized that knock. He was here, finally. The air in your apartment seemed to thicken as Yeosang stepped inside, his eyes searching yours for any trace of the anger that had fueled your phone call earlier. You held his gaze, noticing the way his hair fell across his forehead, the same way it had that first night you met at the bar. You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, not from anger but from something else, something more primal.

"Come in." you say blankly, walking back to your cough and sitting down. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the silence that had settled between you. Yeosang hovered in the doorway for a moment before crossing the threshold, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards.

He sat down opposite you, the couch acting as a barrier that somehow didn't feel substantial enough to contain the electricity that arced through the space separating you. You both knew what this was about, the unspoken words hanging in the air thick as smoke. The tension was palpable, a living, breathing entity that seemed to pulse with every beat of your heart.

"So," he began. His voice was low, a rumble that seemed to resonate in the very walls of the room. "What did you want to talk about?"

You glare. "You know why I told you to come over here, Yeosang. I've had it with the games." Your voice is a tightrope, balancing between anger and something else—desire. You can feel it, the way your body tingles with every word.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and looks at you intently. "What games?" His tone is even, but you can see the muscles in his jaw clench. He's playing it cool, but you know he's just as affected as you are.

"Stop that." you gulp. "Every time I try to talk to you we end up fucking! I told you I wanted to get back together. I told you I wanted to try again and you agreed but never went through with it! Why?! Why can't you ever keep your fucking word?!"

Yeosang's eyes darken. "You act like I'm the reason we're not together anymore." he stands up. "I didn't come here trying to talk to you just so you could curse me out."

You stand as well, your own anger flaring. "You didn't come here to talk, either!" You accuse. "And yeah! You are! You fucking cheated on me!"

He takes a step closer, the heat between you growing, the air around you crackling with unspoken accusations and regrets. "You're not exactly innocent, are you?"

"…" You reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You know he's referring to the nights you spent with other men, trying to dull the pain he caused. But those moments of weakness don't compare to the betrayal he served you. You swallow hard, feeling your throat tighten.

"You did it first. You're not innocent either-"

"So because I did it, it's okay for you to do it?!" he screams, his voice echoing off the walls. Yeosang takes another step closer, his eyes blazing. You can see the hurt in them, the anger he's been holding onto since you first told him about your indiscretions.

"Well don't do some shit like that and then expect me to be okay with it!" You shout back, the room vibrating with your voice. The space between you is charged with anger, but also something else. Something you both refuse to acknowledge.

"I told you I was sorry! We were fucking drunk! You decided to be a fucking whore-"

SLAP!

Your hand connected with his cheek almost immediately, the sound of skin meeting skin reverberating through the room. Yeosang's head snapped to the side, and for a moment, you both just stand there, breathing heavily. You can feel the heat of your hand radiating off your cheek, and the taste of copper fills your mouth as your teeth cut into your bottom lip. You hadn't meant to do that—but the words had just slipped out, and you couldn't take them back.

Instinctively, he wrapped a hand around your neck and you fought with everything in you to not flinch. His grip was tight, but not painful. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his anger and his desire. And then, just as suddenly as the fight had ignited, it changed. His gaze softened, and his other hand slid down to your shoulder, gripping the fabric of your shirt as he stepped closer, his body pressing into yours. You felt your heart race, the heat from his body searing through your clothes.

He pressed his lips against yours immediately, and you could taste the anger in his kiss, but also something else—desperation. Your body responded before your mind had a chance to catch up, and you found yourself kissing him back with the same intensity. It was messy, desperate, and full of the pain of the words that had been said between you, but it was also full of the passion that had once defined your relationship.

Your hands went to his chest, pushing him away, but your legs buckled, and you ended up pulling him closer instead. His hand slid up your neck to cradle the back of your head, angling your face so he could deepen the kiss. You could feel his tongue probing your mouth, claiming you once again, and a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine. You hated how good it felt, how much you had missed this.

He picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, his body following yours. You landed with a thud, but it was overshadowed by the thunderous beat of your hearts. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and his hands roamed down to your hips, gripping tightly as he ground his erection against you.

"I-I still hate you." you growl between kisses, but your body was telling a different story. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could absorb his very essence. Yeosang's hands slipped under your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing the line of your spine, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, the fabric of your shirt riding up to expose your stomach to the cool air.

"Doesn't matter," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with need. "I still want you." His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, revealing your lacy black bra. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin, and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched in anticipation.

"D-Don't think this means we're-" you moan when he kisses your neck. "W-we're okay--it doesn't.."

Yeosang's chuckle was low and dark. "It doesn't have to mean anything." He unclasps your bra with a flick of his fingers, letting your breasts spill out. "It's just sex." His words were a lie, but the heat in his eyes was undeniable.

You started unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down and letting him pull them off and discard them on the floor.

"You still love the way I fuck you," Yeosang murmured into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You gritted your teeth, trying to push aside the truth in his words. You didn't love him, not anymore. You hated him—right? But as his hand trailed down your body to cup your ass, squeezing tightly, your body responded with a betraying moan.

"I don't-" you stammer, but your words are lost as his mouth finds your nipple, teasing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. You bite your lip to keep from crying out, the sensation too much to handle. Your panties are soaked, and you know he can feel it as he rubs against you, the rough fabric of his own pants a stark contrast to your softness.

He sits up and undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his zipper is like a gun cocking in the silent room, and you know what's coming next. You're torn between the anger and the lust, but your body is betraying you—wet and ready for him. Yeosang pulls his pants down, freeing his erection, which stands tall and proud. You can't help but stare, remembering how it felt inside of you.

"Sure you don't." he didn't even look at you. He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up. You felt the head of his cock against your clit, and your body jerked in response. "But we both know your cunt's been begging for me." He slammed into you without warning, and you cried out, your nails digging into his back. It was rough, almost violent, but it felt so fucking good.

"You asshole," you spat, your eyes watering from the mix of pain and pleasure. "I-I hate you." But even as you said it, your hips rocked against his, urging him deeper. Yeosang's thrusts grew more punishing, each one a silent declaration of his anger and his need for you.

Your teeth gritted as Yeosang's hips piston into you. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples sensitive and erect, begging for his touch. You're so wet that the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a testament to the intense friction between you.

"You're such a slut," he groaned, his voice a mix of anger and arousal. "Spreading your legs for anyone that looks your way." His words were a knife, slicing through your soul, but your body responded with a tightening of your muscles, gripping his cock like a vise.

"A-And you put your dick in any girl that throws you a smile," you retorted, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You could feel the orgasm building, your body a coil of tension ready to snap.

He wrapped his hand around your neck once again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air as he slammed into you. "You're just a worthless whore," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Why should I even care about your pathetic attempts to get me back?"

You clawed at his shoulders, feeling the fabric of his shirt tear beneath your nails. "You're nothing but a cheating bastard," you spat back, the taste of his skin on your tongue. "F-Fucking me won't change that!"

His hips stuttered. Your words were hitting him like a truck and you took advantage of that, pushing him away and onto his back, crawling on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist. You slammed down onto his cock, riding him with a ferocity that had him gasping for air, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Is that all you think of me?" you sneered, your voice a serrated whisper. "A whore to be used and thrown away?" With every bounce of your hips, you hammered the question into him, your teeth bared in a snarl.

"That's all you are," Yeosang managed to say through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he met your punishing rhythm. "Just a slut who can't keep your legs shut." His eyes blazed with fury, but his cock remained rock-hard, a stark contrast to the venom in his words.

You laen down, your forehead pressing against his. "Is that all you think of me?" you repeated, your voice a hoarse whisper. "After all we've been through?" You start to ride him harder, each movement punctuated by a snarled word. "Is that all I'm worth to you?"

He grabs your hips, trying to move his own in tandem with yours. "S-Shut up." He grunts through clenched teeth. "You're the one that wanted this."

"Oh, I want it," you admit, leaning down to bite his earlobe with your hand wrapping tightly around his neck. "But I want you to admit that you're just as much to blame for this mess as I am." You grind down harder, watching his eyes roll back in his head. "Say it," you demand.

"I-I'm to blame," Yeosang chokes out, his voice strained. "I'm to blame for fucking you when we both know we shouldn't." His hands grip your hips, pushing you down onto him with renewed vigor.

"Yeah," you moan. "You're to blame for making me want you like this." You lean down and whisper into his ear, "But I hate you for making me want you."

"I bet," he grips your hips and flips you over so you're on your back, his weight pressing you into the couch cushions. He doesn't bother with gentle caresses, instead he slams into you with a brutal force that has you seeing stars. "Doesn't matter. You know you're nothing but a hole for me to fill." he growls, each thrust punctuating his words. You can feel your anger rising to match his, your body moving with his in a dance of pure, unbridled passion and spite.

"You're nothing but a dick," you spit back, your voice hoarse from the pleasure and pain mixing within you. "A worthless piece of meat that thinks it can just fuck me when it wants!" You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your teeth clenched as your nails dig into his back.

"Yeah?" he pants, failing to hold back his moans. "Well, your pussy loves my dick, doesn't it?" Yeosang's strokes grow faster, his breaths shallower, and you know he's close to the edge. You tighten your legs around him, using your core muscles to squeeze him, to keep him deep inside you as your body begs for release.

"Gonna fill you up so good." Yeosang's voice is a taunt, a challenge. "Show you who you really belong to." He drives into you with an aggression that borders on brutal, his hands bruising your hips. The pain is exquisite, and you hate how much your body responds to it. You want to scream, to claw his eyes out, but instead, you arch your back, offering yourself up to him, begging for more.

"S-Show me." you smile weakly, clawing into his skin. "Y-You're still fucking obsessed with my pussy. Still a fucking manwhore. Can't get enough of me, can you?" The words are acid on your tongue, but they're what he wants to hear. What you both need to hear.

Yeosang's eyes narrowed, the insults stoking the fire in his eyes. "You're just a desperate slut, aren't you?" he snarled, his grip on your hips tightening. "You'd let anyone fuck you to feel wanted again."

"Shut up." you cry out. "I'm so fucking close, shut up!" You can feel your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure and anger that's about to crash over you like a tidal wave. Yeosang's words are like gasoline on the fire, and you want to hate him for it—but instead, they just make you wetter.

He smirks, his thrusts becoming erratic. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "You love this. You love the way I treat you like a whore."

You want to argue, to scream in his face that you're not, that he's the one who's ruined everything. But the words die on your lips as his cock hits that perfect spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to hold back the moan that wants to escape.

"You love it when I talk dirty to you," Yeosang whispers, his voice a dark caress against your ear. "You're nothing but a whore, begging for more." His strokes grow harder, his hips slapping against yours with a sound that seems to echo through the room.

You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but all that comes out is a guttural moan as your orgasm crashes through you. "Yeosang," you whimper his name, your voice a plea for release.

He laughs, a harsh sound that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" His voice is a mix of triumph and disdain.

"Y-Yeah," you moan. "Just don't stop-" You're so close, your vision swimming with the intensity of your climax.

"Worthless bitch," Yeosang grunts, his grip tightening, his strokes growing more punishing. "Fucking cumdump, yeah?" His voice is a snarl, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and lust. "Admit it."

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your body coil even tighter. "Asshole," you spit back, your eyes flashing. "I'd rather be a cumdump than a cheating prick like you." The words come out as a moan, your body betraying you as you climb closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm.

And finally, your climax crashes over you, a mix of pleasure and pain that leaves you trembling beneath him. "Yeosang," you moan, his name a curse on your lips as your body convulses around him. You hate the way his name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, especially when you're in the throes of passion.

He doesn't slow down, his own release building as he watches you come apart. "You're mine," he growls, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. The sting of pain is a sharp contrast to the pleasure that's still pulsing through you. "Always have been, always will be."

#february filth fest #ateez #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #yeosang smut #yeosang fluff #yeosang ateez #yeosang x reader #yeosang hard thoughts #yeosang hard hours #Spotify

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helianthus-hellion · 15 hours ago

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deleting the advertising ID is a great idea but also if you're going to an abortion clinic or a protest or anything else that is or may soon become illegal, don't bring your phone! write down phone numbers of anyone you may need to call, bring a separate camera if you want to document anything, but just... don't take your phone. (and if you absolutely need to bring your phone, like because it manages your insulin pump or has your bus pass or something, airplane mode, location off, wifi off - make it as much of a piece of unconnected tech as you can)

also i originally put this in the tags but i'm adding it to my reblog - the vast majority of modern cars have built-in GPS and location tracking, even if you're not using it for directions. if your car has that, don't take it to clinics or protests! if you're able to take public transit, do that, and if you can't take public transit then i would suggest finding a nearby area that you would have a plausible reason for spending a lot of time at (like a department store or something), parking there, and walking to wherever it is you need to go.

i know there's situations where you may not have these options, but they are the best way to keep yourself safe, and i want people to at least be informed of the risks before they choose to drive or take their phone to an abortion clinic or a protest or wherever it is you're going

anyway yeah DELETE YOUR FUCKING ADVERTISING IDS

Android:

Settings ➡️ Google ➡️ all services ➡️ Ads ➡️ Delete advertising ID

(may differ slightly depending on android version and manufacturer firmware. you can't just search settings for "advertising ID" of course 🔪)

iOS:

Settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ tracking ➡️ toggle "allow apps to request to track" to OFF

and ALSO settings ➡️ privacy ➡️ Apple advertising ➡️ toggle "personalized ads" to OFF

more details about the process here via the EFF

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bvidzsoo · 3 days ago

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Every time I see you...chapter 2 ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Warning: smut ☆ Word count: 7k ☆ Rating: mature ☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, smut ☆ Summary: A surprise visit which was supposed to convey you and Mingi cooking dinner, soon turns into something else as you find yourself in his bed, underneath him. You've done this before, so it's not supposed to bring unwanted emotions with itself, especially not the next day when you're simply enjoying your morning while walking to work with Mingi.

☆ Visuals ☆

M.list ~ Previous Chapter

A/N: Sorry for the later update, I had a busy day, but I hope you have fun reading this chapter. If you've been following me for long enough, you might know that I don't like writing smut, however, when the plot calls for it, I will slip it in to my best capacities. The smut in this story isn't written for 'entertainment' purposes, but to show how deep their understanding of each other and intimacy goes, so keep that in mind if it isn't as mind blowing as a smut writer usually makes it be lmao. On that note, I hope you've checked out the Pinterest board I've created for the series, and if not, you should! It showcases the aesthetic of the story and even parts of the plot that will be happening soon enough. I'd also like to inform you that there won't be an update next week because I'll actually be in Denmark at this time to see Ateez (I'm still in disbelief I'll see them in a week lmao). I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I appreciate your feedback, so let me know what you think. If anyone wants to be tagged in this story, lmk! ^^ Enjoy now! divider

Taglist: @spicxbnny @hongjoongspoetry

🎧 Ⴘ𝜎𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝜎𝑤 𝘭 𝑤𝛼𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢, 𝘭 𝑤𝛼𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑦𝑒𝛼ℎ / 𝘖ℎ 𝑛𝜎, 𝑦𝜎𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝜎𝜎 𝑐ℓ𝜎𝑠𝑒, 𝑃ℓ𝛼𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝒹𝛼𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝜎𝑢𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝓂𝑒 / 𝑈ℎ, 𝑐𝜎𝓂𝓂𝑖𝑡𝓂𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝘭 𝒹𝜎𝑛’𝑡 ��𝛼𝘷𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝓂𝑒 / 𝛵𝑒ℓℓ 𝓂𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝘭 𝑔𝜎𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝜎𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒ℓ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 🎧

The metal cart wasn’t even half as heavy now that I was shopping on my own, a lack of Mingi meant fewer expenses and less chocolate filling up the basked. I smiled to myself as I recalled one of the many instances of Mingi sneaking milk chocolate into the cart, acting as if I wouldn’t notice it at the self-checkout. He’d always bat his eyelashes at me and casually—at least he thought it looked like—put his hands in his pockets while slightly shuffling on his feet. Right, he thought playing nonchalant wouldn’t make it so obvious, but having known Mingi for a few years now, I could already tell when he was up to no good. And he was never up to any good in a store filled with candy. With a small shake of my head, I found myself heading down the candy aisle, looking for the sour gummies that disappeared within seconds around Mingi. His pantry was already filled with sweets and snacks, so I was sure his collection wasn’t lacking any sour gummies, but since I was already surprising him by stopping by, why not also gift him something sweet? There were only the essentials in my shopping cart: basil, parmesan, penne, and a small pack of cashews. The rest that was needed would be at Mingi’s place, thankfully he was a man who loved to cook, so his kitchen was better equipped than even mine at times.

I grabbed some marshmallows on the way to the self-checkout, wondering if I could convince Mingi to make me his famous hot chocolate as a little treat for surprising him with dinner tonight. Of course, the dinner wouldn’t come all served to his flat but get prepared there, not that Mingi had an issue with that. Early on in our friendship, we had learned that we both liked the quiet moments that we could share. Watching a movie after a long day while cosied up next to each other felt serene, reading in his bed on a rainy day brought contentment and comfort, and cooking in either his or my kitchen then brought a sense of belonging and joy that I haven’t found with anyone else. I had friends, quite plenty of them while at university, yet no one managed to bring out the calmness in me that came now naturally around Mingi. He was a one-of-a-kind person, and I could see it and feel it without anyone pointing it out to me. I nodded at the security guard as farewell once I was done checking out, the items for our dinner placed in my tote bag as I left the store. The evening was pleasant, not too cold nor warm, but wearing the thin cardigan before leaving the house was rather smart of me. I relinquished in the world that surrounded me as I walked towards Mingi’s apartment complex, head turning towards the playground as the kids screamed while chasing each other around.

There was something bittersweet in their naivety, and before it could sour my mood, I averted my gaze and focused on the headlights of the cars lighting up the streets, stronger than the old lampposts placed on the edge of the sidewalks. I liked living in a city that was big enough to allow one to feel invisible, it was easier to blend in rather than seek attention. I enjoyed meeting a stranger's gaze for a split second before we’d both never cross each other’s minds ever again, the other's face nothing but a blur on a crowded road. The green light blinked in warning as I reached the crosswalk, and I paused as it switched back to red, the previously stagnant cars now wheezing by the pedestrians. Standing too close to the edge never felt comfortable, so I left a few steps between myself and the edge of the sidewalk, watching as rowdy teenagers squeezed in front of me to be the first ones to cross. They were in a hurry based on their conversation, their movie would start in fifteen minutes and they were nowhere near close to the cinema. I smiled as I looked down at my shoes, the presence of other people surrounding me was something that I liked focusing on. I like the anonym life, but something was comforting in the thought that no matter how alone you might feel, there were always others around you, each person focused on their own issues and life…but they were there. You weren’t alone, even if you thought you had no one by your side. That’s another lesson I learned through my friendship with Mingi. Even in my darkest moments when I felt like the world was against me, Mingi would appear like the sun through a cloudy day and bring light into my life, proving to me that I was never really alone.

When I thought nobody would look out or care for me, Mingi managed to make himself seen like nobody else. Small gestures had always mattered to me, and Mingi was the type of person who noticed everything. He loved coming to your aid, helping you out if you were struggling, or even just being a silent supportive presence by your side. He fixed the wonky doorknob of my bedroom without me asking for it, sometimes I forgot to water my plants and I’d come home to Mingi showering them, or there were times when my wrists ached too much from having used them all day long so Mingi would wash the dishes wordlessly, and then there were the even smaller things like: opening doors for me, brushing my hair out of my face while we were eating, playing with my fingers if he noticed I was anxious, letting me borrow his jackets if I felt cold, allowing me to have the first bite of our dessert if we decided to share it, and so many more gestures that made him unforgettable. He was a genuine man, eager to give his affection to those eager to receive it. I didn’t deal well with emotions, letting them simmer until they bottled up and forced me to notice them. Mingi wasn’t like that, he was open about them and unafraid to voice his needs and complaints. Sometimes I admired him for his braveness, wishing to do better myself because I knew he deserved to have someone as genuine as him by his side.

The middle-aged married couple living across Mingi’s flat already knew me, their smiles were wide as they spotted me entering the building while they were leaving. I greeted them and answered when they asked about my day, wishing them a lovely date as they were headed out for the evening. Mingi lived on the third floor so I avoided taking the elevator, feeling stuffy and uncertain inside. I didn’t like the noises it made, nor the way it rattled before taking off. The building was old and the elevator was in of much-needed maintenance. The hallways were silent apart from the crying baby from the first floor, which could be heard even on Mingi’s floor. I suppose I would like to have kids at some point in the future, but I have never thought too deeply about it. It was a choice I would like to take with my future partner; besides, I enjoyed the quiet and slow life too much right now to feel ready to have a baby—let alone a serious relationship—right now. I knocked on Mingi’s front door, waiting patiently for him to come to the door. I knew he was home; he had texted me before he went to take a nap, his mind exhausted after the three courses he had during the day.

Another beat of silence passed before I heard the locks turning, the front door swinging open to reveal a shirtless Mingi. His dark hair was slightly damp and his cheeks were lightly flushed, the expanse of his chest able to catch anyone’s attention. His shoulders were wide and firm, his skin even tanner than usual since he had gone to the beach this summer. His biceps weren’t huge nor too eye-catching, but they flexed nicely with the slightest movement, never failing to grab my attention if he wore compressed tank tops or tees. His stomach wasn’t too ripped either nor too soft—more like somewhere in between—a trail of dark hair peeking through his sweatpants as my eyes trailed down. I’ve seen Mingi shirtless before—hell, I have seen him naked so many times that I couldn’t even count them on my hands anymore—but I never shied away from admiring his physique if he willingly put it on display. Surprise painted Mingi’s face when I finally looked back up, a small smile pulling at my lips.

“Look at you,” I chuckled, stepping through the threshold as Mingi slowly closed the door behind us, “You certainly know how to welcome your guests.”

Mingi snorted, rubbing the back of his head as I placed my tote bag on the ground before discarding my sneakers by the entrance.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone, to be honest,” He grabbed the tote bag off the floor for me, curiously peeking inside, “Did you bring food? Because I’m not complaining, then.”

I chuckled and grabbed his arm, stepping closer to lean into him. Mingi’s lips involuntarily pulled into a soft smile, eyes slowly blinking as he looked down at me, humming lowly. I didn’t have anything to say, I just liked to bask in the warmth of his body and the bodywash that I now associated with Mingi and only Mingi.

“I brought the ingredients,” I answered, leaning closer to press a chaste kiss against his collarbone, “The chefs are needed in the kitchen tonight.”

I took my bag from Mingi as he pressed a kiss against the side of my head before he started walking towards his bedroom, “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

I chuckled, then stepped into my slippers before scuffling over to the kitchen, swinging the bag in my hands as I walked to the aisle dividing Mingi’s chic kitchen from his living room. I placed the items I bought on the counter and allowed the tote bag to rest by the foot of the aisle, turning around to grab the pots out of the cupboard. I heard Mingi’s heavy footsteps approach as he grabbed his apron, tying it around his narrow waist. He stopped next to me and took the pot from my hands to fill it with water for the penne as I walked to the stove and turned it on. There was music faintly coming from Mingi’s bedroom, the door left wide open, and I wondered if it was the vinyl we had thrifted together. Mingi lived right by a busy street so the on-coming traffic usually filled his apartment, only quiet after midnight until the early morning hours. I walked to the window and opened it, pulling the curtain to the side so that the scent of the food wouldn’t fill the whole apartment.

“Oh, are we making Pesto tonight?” Mingi mused as he looked at the ingredients, going to retrieve the olive oil before he grabbed a bowl to mix the cheese in. He liked measuring everything beforehand and putting them in separate bowls so that it was clear how much he’d need to use, placing them in order of use as well. I walked back to his side and grabbed the grater, getting to work as I bit off a bit of the cheese before grating it. Mingi grabbed the small hand mixer to grind the cashew, his hip jutting out as he stood next to me, pressing into mine as I smiled, glancing at him from my peripheral. The mixer wasn’t too loud, so I didn’t wait for him to finish before I answered.

“Figured we could cook something quick and then read before bed?” I proposed lightly, turning my head as Mingi now grabbed the cheese I had grated, mixing it with the cashew and the spoonful of olive oil.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” His voice was deep as he hummed, grinding the rest of the ingredients together as I realised the basil needed some washing before we could use it. I opened the small casserole and walked to the sink, turning on the cold water as Mingi continued, “My professor and I settled on ethnology at last, but I’m still trying to figure out what I’d like to focus on specifically. He gave me a book to look through and said it might help me find a solid direction.”

I smiled as I turned the faucet off, shaking the water off the basil, “That’s great, I’m glad he wants to help you out unlike that asshole you wrote your bachelor’s degree with.”

Mingi chuckled as I came to stand next to him again, placing the basil in the bowl so that he could grind the sauce together, “Yeah, he made me work my ass off, but it paid off in the end.”

“I know,” I smiled and leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek, “Your score was the highest out of everyone graduating that year. That was rather hot of you.”

“Yeah?” Mingi smirked, leaning his hip against the counter now that the sauce was done, the pasta was next, but the water was yet to start boiling.

“What can I say,” I shrugged, facing Mingi with an amused look on my face, “I like my men pretty and smart.”

He pointed at his face, widening his eyes so that he’d look even cuter, “Hilarious, that’s me. No wonder you’re into me.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Don’t let that huge ego of yours get to you now, I don’t like my men cocky.”

“No?” Mingi pouted, pushing off the counter to step closer, “Not even a little bit?”

I shook my head and he sighed heavily as if it was the end of the world, “Fine, I’ll stay humble and graduate three more colleges to make sure my academic hotness never dies.”

I laughed, shaking my head at Mingi’s absurd words, well aware that he could graduate that many more colleges if he wished to. Mingi was too smart for his own good, it was admirable. I was glad to somehow graduate from the one college I chose out of impulse, being lucky to find a job that not only had something to do with my degree but was also enjoyable.

“As long as you keep wearing your glasses, your academic hotness will never die.” Mingi raised his eyebrows as he stepped even closer, lazily pulling me into himself as his arms circled my waist.

“Really? That’s all I have to do?” He hummed before his eyebrows furrowed, “We’re back to the glasses talk and—wait, mom? Is that you?! I thought you wouldn’t call me today—”

I punched Mingi’s chest, throwing him a displeased look as he laughed, leaning down to kiss my lips but I turned my head to the side, feigning hurt. He huffed slowly, shaking his head in disappointment, “And my friends say I’m the drama queen.”

“You are quite dramatic, though,” I muttered as Mingi snickered, kissing my cheek before I could turn my head to face him again. He smiled softly as he raised his hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of my eyes, his fingers gently tracing my cheek before they curled around my jaw.

“I was raised like a princess, of course, I’m dramatic,” Mingi giggled, making me snort as I glanced towards the water. It was starting to boil, but it wasn’t quite there yet, “How was your day? Do your wrists hurt? Want a massage?”

“Today was thankfully quiet, I don’t think I would’ve survived a day like yesterday.” Client after client kept pouring in, and my boss and I didn’t get to have a lunch break at all as we were overloaded with commissions but also in-store orders, “I still have to mend a ring, but it’s not important. I thought I might do it tonight, but honestly, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed and leaned closer, making me raise my eyebrows at him, “because I’ve missed you, and I want to have you all to myself tonight.”

I laughed, trying to turn my head away once again when Mingi leaned in for a kiss, but his grip on my jaw tightened and held me in place. My eyes fluttered closed as Mingi’s lips met mine, warm and plump, soft yet more eager than before. His other hand slowly sneaked to my lower back and pulled me into his body, my arms going around his neck as I tilted my head for better access. Our lips moved languidly as Mingi slowly swayed us to the soft jazz music playing in the background, and I flinched when a car’s horn blared outside. We could both hear the water boiling now, but there was an insistence to Mingi’s wet lips that immobilised me as I breathed through my nose, head swirling with his familiar cologne. My fingers crumbled the collar of Mingi’s white tee as he bit my bottom lip, gently suckling on it before his tongue swiped over my bottom lip, asking for permission. I cupped his cheek and slightly pulled back, our breaths fanning each other’s faces as I gulped, not moving even an inch back.

“The pasta won’t be done if we continue.”

“I know, let’s hope the water doesn’t evaporate by the time we’re done.”

My chuckle was swallowed by Mingi’s lips finding mine again, a little more insistent, a little more desperate as I finally parted my lips, letting Mingi’s tongue past my teeth as he grabbed my waist and suddenly hoisted me up, my legs anchoring around his waist as Mingi held me in his arms, his tongue exploring my mouth as if it was our first time kissing. I loved kissing Mingi, it felt like he was always pouring something unspoken into it, something deep and meaningful. He didn’t have to bear his heart for me to understand, sometimes I could see it in his eyes, and other times I could feel it in the way he touched me. Even in our intimate moments, I felt like he had my back. He was as much in tune with his body as he was with mine, picking up on cues that indicated how comfortable or uncomfortable I felt by anything he did to me. My breath hitched in the back of my throat as our tongues glided against each other, slow and hot and making my heart race as Mingi hummed appreciatively in the back of his throat. I could feel his lips pull into a small smile, and I felt the sudden urge to cling to him harder, to squeeze his waist and sink my fingers into his smooth hair. There was something dormant in my chest that threatened to awaken in moments like this one, but I stopped it before it could ignite the whispers that would ruin everything.

I liked having Mingi like this, our friendship perhaps more than that, without the need to label it. It wasn’t necessary when we both knew we could reach out to the other, lay our heads in the other’s lap and just surrender. There was no trust without vulnerability, and sometimes I felt guilty for not being as transparent as Mingi was with me, but my heart would clench uncomfortably at the thought and I’d have the sudden urge to cry. Our lips moved more insistently as Mingi started walking, leaving the kitchen with slow steps, being careful so his feet wouldn’t get tangled in anything that would make him drop me. The jazz music became louder as we neared Mingi’s bedroom, and my lungs felt on fire as I cupped Mingi’s cheeks, mouth pressing against his with yearning. He pulled back gently when we reached the foot of his bed, and he pressed a kiss to my forehead before he kneeled on the mattress and slowly lowered me on it, untying his apron before getting settled between my legs. My lips were slightly swollen as I reached a hand out to trace Mingi’s lips, having always found them pretty. Mingi’s eyes closed as I gently traced his jawline and then sharp cheekbones, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down into another searing kiss.

It didn’t last for long as Mingi gently pulled back, caressing my hair as he peppered kisses all over my face, but then his warm and wet lips found my neck as he gently nipped at my heated skin, muttering intangible words into it as I played with his hair, my heart racing in my chest. His kisses continued, going lower, bunching up my t-shirt as he mouthed at my stomach, licking it where he knew I was ticklish until I was pushing his head away with a small glare, making him smirk amused. But his lips were back on my body as he unbuttoned my jeans, pressing gentle kisses against my hipbones before he dwelled lower, hot breath hitting my clothed core. I gulped, face heating up as he closed his eyes and nosed at the damp fabric for a second, kissing the inside of my thigh before my panties were off my legs together with my jeans, Mingi’s head lost between my legs. My mouth opened and my eyes closed as I fisted the comforter, one hand tangling in Mingi’s hair as his tongue licked between my folds, nose hitting my clit. The breath hitched in my throat and my mouth fell open as he moved slowly with purpose, already familiar with every tick of my body.

Being with Mingi was always so easy, there was no need to fill the silence for it was never awkward or empty. He seemed to have an ability to read your mind and thus knew how to cater to your likes, he just knew how to please you instinctually. It was peculiar, he was unlike anyone I have ever known, he made life seem easier, coating it in childish joy. I gasped when he prodded at my clit, my hole clenching around nothing until one ring-clad finger suddenly filled it, making my fingers grip his hair tightly. Mingi hummed, I could feel his eyes on my face as I tried to stiffen a moan, mindful of his neighbours, but the suddenly fast pace of his finger and the agonisingly slow flick of his tongue made my stomach clench as my eyes flew open, finding Mingi’s as I moaned loudly. I should’ve expected the smirk crossing his face as he continued doing that, his name falling off my lips in a rush, fingers pulling painfully at his roots.

“Stop it,” I whispered, eyes shaking as Mingi added a second finger, my hips wishing to kick off the mattress but Mingi held me down by my hips before I could do so, “More, please.”

Mingi hummed again, his two fingers plunging deeper and curling as my mouth fell open in a breathy moan, toes curling as he leaned forward to kiss my navel, lips hovering over the tattoo on my right hipbone, nipping at the skin before he slowly kissed up my body, fingers never once stopping, but alleviating in pace. I was panting by the time our lips found each other again and Mingi’s breath stuttered when I grabbed him through his sweatpants, his dick heavy and hard as I squeezed it, making Mingi groan as he ground down into my hand. Before I could reach inside his sweatpants, however, he pulled away just as I could feel the tension slowly build up in my lower stomach, my eyes wide as I watched him stand. I quickly pulled my t-shirt over my head as Mingi got rid of his clothes too, standing by the end of the bed in his naked glory. He was a gorgeous man, making you wish you could gaze at him forever and more. He grabbed a condom out of the nightstand before coming back to kneel between my legs, a small smile on his lips as he rolled it on, kissing between my breasts as he aligned himself, looking down between our bodies. I knew what was coming, we’ve done this plenty of times before, yet the careful and slow way he eased himself inside never failed to push a moan out of me, my body feeling like it was made of glass with how gently Mingi handled it.

It was moments like this one that I could completely unravel, to let go of all the fears and doubts that plagued my mind, because in Mingi’s arms, I knew I could be vulnerable and he wouldn’t use it against me. My eyes fluttered close as Mingi caged me between his body and the mattress, his dick stretching me out much like always, I needed a second to adjust to it once he bottomed out. He smiled, grabbing my jaw to press a kiss against my lips as I hummed, arms going around his torso to hug him close to myself as my legs locked around his hips, making sure there was no gap between our bodies. I liked feeling him on top of me, his weight like a blanket of security, something that would lock me into the present and not let my mind wander to all the what-ifs. Mingi moved, slowly and teasingly almost as he pulled halfway out before easing back in, enjoying the way my face contorted in pleasure. I knew he couldn’t keep this pace up for long because his own needs would catch up with him, and as I raised my head to whisper his name in his ear, something finally snapped in him as he shuddered, hips picking up their movement as he pulled out almost all the way, pushing back in almost as if he was in a rush.

I moaned, head falling back as I tried to meet his thrusts halfway, his hot breath fanning over my mouth making me latch onto his jaw, sucking his skin as Mingi pushed himself up just a little bit, bracing himself above my head as he dragged his hips faster, his mouth open as he looked down at me, our eyes meeting. My whole body burned as the pressure was slowly building back up, his length reaching places only Mingi could, my mouth was dry as I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep it down. But one large hand grabbed my breast as Mingi’s fingers played with my nipple and my back arched into his touch, eyebrows furrowing as a new wave of pleasure rushed through my body.

“Go faster, please.” I breathed out as Mingi grunted, his hair falling into his sharp eyes as he started pistoning his hips, my mouth falling open as I clung to him, nails digging into his back. Mingi’s chest heaved as low grumbles tumbled past his lips, eyebrows furrowing as his grip turned just a bit painful on my breast, pain and pleasure have always been a fine line with Mingi.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Mingi muttered more to himself, his face contorting in pleasure as he grabbed my left knee and pushed my leg towards my chest, making me gasp as he reached deeper, brushing against my sweet spot. Mingi felt the way my body locked up for a second, eyes widening, and he wasted no second plunging in against the same spot again and again, his grunts now a melody of their own as they amalgamated with my keens and the jazz music. My hand gripped Mingi’s bicep, nails leaving dents in his gorgeous body for everyone to see, and I looked at Mingi to find him already gazing at me, “I’m so close.”

I gulped around nothing, my throat dry as I nodded wordlessly, reaching down to rub my clit as my ears started ringing, the chord so tight in my abdomen that it was close to snapping anytime, “Don’t stop, Mingi.”

Mingi moaned after a harder snap of his hips, the slapping of skin louder than the vinyl that was playing, my moans were almost a mantra as I pulled Mingi down to silence them, our kiss messy as my body locked up with finality. Mingi’s name was just a whisper on my lips as the tightness finally snapped, an electric-like feeling filling my body as my skin was covered in goosebumps. Mingi gasped before his hips stuttered, losing their steady rhythm as he slammed back in a few more times, coming to a standstill once his orgasm was over too. Our chests rose and fell rapidly as Mingi’s eyes closed, his head hanging low as I stared up at the ceiling, my fingertips gently rubbing the dents my nails had left in his bicep. He leaned down and I looked at him, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead before he could kiss my lips and he froze, his eyes fluttering open. I gave him a small smile as he chuckled, pulling out and then getting off me, my body still buzzing as I lay on top of Mingi’s bed, watching him tie the condom off before throwing it away. He then pulled the needle off the record player, silence filling the room.

“We should really cook that pasta now.” Mingi’s voice was lower, his expression serene and his eyes void of worries as I chuckled, pushing up onto my elbows.

“I don’t want to get up just yet.” I pouted, kicking my legs slightly as Mingi chuckled, leaning down to grab his white tee. He threw it in my face before he slipped on his sweatpants, and then headed for the door.

“Stay in bed then, I’ll be back in two minutes.” I hummed as I watched him go back to the kitchen to take care of the boiling water and pasta, then pulled his white tee on before I got off the bed to pull the comforter back. Just as I was about to get in, Mingi came in like a bulldozer, arms around my torso as he made us fall into the bed, giggling while I struggled to breathe as he now lay on top of me.

“Get off, you’re heavy!” I screeched as I tried to crawl out from underneath him, and Mingi obliged after he swiftly kissed my nape, snuggling in behind me as I pulled the comforter over our bodies.

“Five minutes and then we go have dinner.” Mingi mumbled into my skin as his hand landed on my naked thigh, lightly tracing my skin, “How about we skip reading tonight? I’m sleepy.”

I smiled, turning slightly to look back at him, “You can go to sleep, I want to read a bit.”

“Sure.” Mingi smiled and kissed my shoulder before he buried his head between my scapulas, letting out a long sigh as silence wrapped around us. For a split second, my control over my treacherous heart slipped and the whispers reached my ears, saying that I craved Mingi like I craved water or food, that I needed Mingi by my side like I needed oxygen to survive. I gulped, eyebrows slightly furrowing as I realised my heart was still racing, but it wasn’t in excitement, it was due to the deeply buried anxiety that told me Mingi’s affection wasn’t as pure as I liked to believe it was.

There was something dull about this morning, something that made life feel simpler than it was. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, the sky a light shade of grey as the air was chillier than the night before. It was increasingly obvious that the summer was over, and the ominous autumn days were now taking over the once sunny days. And despite that, the song of the birds carried above our heads like an echo, a beautiful and calming sound as our path took us through a lush green park, mostly empty at this hour except for the runners and the dog owners who followed after their pets. The fingers of my right hand were slightly chilly as they firmly held onto Mingi’s hand, our arms swinging between our bodies as we walked at a leisurely pace, not in a rush yet. The bus ride was swift since we went down to the bus stop just in time, so, we had some time to pass until the jewellery store opened. Despite the grey hoodie hugging around my body that Mingi had lent me, I shivered, and he cast a curious glance down at me. I looked up at him with a soft smile, raising one eyebrow as Mingi shrugged, putting our intertwined hands into the pocket of his bomber jacket.

“It’s chilly, isn’t it?” Mingi mused, his lips pursed as he looked straight ahead once again.

“Yes, and it’ll only get worse.” I sighed, already dreading the cold winter days that would come in just two months. Mingi hummed, bumping his shoulder against mine as he walked closer, almost as if he wished to share his never-ending body heat with me. He was like a furnace at times, a complete saviour during the cold, snowy, winter days when I could bury myself in his side and bask in his warmth. I felt my cheeks heat all of a sudden as I turned my head away, hoping that my hair would frame my face and hide it from Mingi’s knowing eyes. It made no sense that I’d become a blushing mess all of a sudden, Mingi has been doing these things forever. It was nothing new that we held hands while walking, nor the fact that I wore his clothes, or that he warmed our hands by putting them in his pocket. And yet, it felt different. A choking-like emotion tried to crawl up my throat as I sighed, trying to shake my thoughts away before they could sour my mood.

“I like the rusty-coloured leaves in the autumn, no matter how cold it is,” Mingi spoke up as we left the park, back on the busy main street. Life seemed more hectic here, people brushing past each other as the traffic lights flickered from green to red every other minute, only complicating the already raging traffic, “The café gets cosier too, everyone wants hot chocolate all of a sudden, or pumpkin-spiced latte. My boss also buys a lot of cinnamon and orange-scented candles around this time, so it’s always a fun time walking inside the shop, wondering whether the scent of coffee or the candles will hit me first.”

“Our store always smells of incense, blue sage mostly or white musk since these two seem to have cleansing properties…at least that’s what my boss believes.” I shrugged as Mingi smiled, bumping his shoulder into mine again and making me tumble slightly to the side. I scoffed and narrowed my eyes at him as I gently jabbed his side with my elbow, making him snort under his breath as we turned right, walking away from the busy and loud street.

“Your store always feels so fresh and welcoming, those incense sticks are certainly doing their jobs then.” I hummed in thought, never really having paid attention to that. But Mingi must be right since I’m already used to my boss's shenanigans and the store’s customs. The store was now in sight and I glanced down at my wristwatch, realising we were fifteen minutes early, but the lights were already on inside the store. My boss would sometimes come in earlier to finish the previous day’s commissions, “By the way, about our getaway.”

“What about it?” I asked as we stopped at the crosswalk, looking at both sides of the road before crossing it. A lone car cruised down the street, its engine silent as I watched it go by.

“I found a homey lodge by the edge of the forest not even two hours away, what do you think?” Mingi asked, fishing for his phone as my eyebrows furrowed.

“That sounds like the setting of a horrible but successful horror movie, don’t you think?” Mingi laughed and turned his phone for me to look at. Well, the lodge was small and downright gorgeous as Mingi swiped through the pictures, the two of us had stopped on the sidewalk to make sure we didn’t walk into anything or anyone. The wood panels were a light maroon, and the lodge seemed to have a well-equipped kitchen, a small living and dining area, a spacious but cosy bedroom, and a rather modern-looking bathroom. The price on the posting didn’t seem too bad, so I nodded my head in agreement, “Okay, I like this place.”

“Right? It’s so beautiful.” Mingi sighed dreamily, putting his phone away, “Looks so relaxing and just…quiet. I don’t know why I have this sudden urge to go away for a few days, but it’s getting worse and worse as days go by.”

I hummed, squeezing his hand encouragingly. I knew Mingi could get overwhelmed easily, often losing himself in his workload, letting stress bring him down until he caught the flu and would be bedridden for a week. I couldn’t let that happen again, so, going away for a mini-holiday seemed like a very smart choice for the two of us at the moment.

“Your master’s is getting to you, Mingi, and it’s okay. You’re stressed about finding a good subject, and you’re also taking on more shifts than necessary at the café.” Mingi pouted, hanging his head low as he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, “Do you think we could go in two weeks? Or is it too sudden?”

“No, that actually sounds lovely,” Mingi quickly said as we came to a stop in front of the store. He faced me and grabbed my other hand as well, intertwining our fingers. His rings were colder than his hands as they dug into my skin, and I found myself thumbing at one of them. His rings were always pretty, much like Mingi, they fit with his character well. They were mostly silver and chunky, but not to the point it was distasteful.

“Good, then book the lodge for us.” Mingi’s smile was instant, stretching from one ear to another, his nose scrunching and his eyes becoming smaller as I found my heart racing uncontrollably once again. His crooked front teeth made him even more endearing and I gulped, wanting to reach out and trace his lips gently with my fingertips. I felt like I could stare at his face—at his smile—forever as Mingi’s body basically vibrated with joy, excited to get away for a few days. I chuckled and ignored my growing anxiety, opting to squeeze his hands as I raised his left hand to press a quick kiss against his knuckles. Mingi’s smile softened, his eyes glinting in the morning light, and I felt unable to look at him any longer as we let go of each other’s hands.

“Have an easy shift, I’ll text you later.”

“Thank you, rest your eyes in between reading.”

Mingi winked, turning on his heels and walking back down the way we had come, headed back to his flat. I let my eyes follow his retreating form, chuckling when he abruptly spun around to wave at me with a smug smile. I shook my head and walked inside the store, glad that I was out of the morning’s coldness. It had felt rejuvenating, but now that my teeth chattered, I was even more glad to be inside a warm place, with heavy incense burning away in the corner to freshen up the air. I walked to the backdoor and knocked on it before entering, finding my boss buried deep in her work, twisting intricate models into the necklace she was crocheting.

“Good morning,” I greeted her as I placed my tote bag on the floor and pulled the sleeves of the hoodie lower to hide my arms, trying to bury myself fully underneath it. My boss glanced up with a small smile before she looked back down at her craft, eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated on her task.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” I blushed so suddenly that I was stunned for a second, needing to gulp a few times as I chuckled, averting my eyes when my boss looked at me questioningly.

“Yes, of course, and you?” She gave me a knowing look before she shrugged, tying off a knot.

“The full moon’s getting closer so I struggle falling asleep, but I’m well rested thankfully.” I hummed, grabbing a hair tie to tie my hair back, then grabbed a stool to sit down next to her. There was another unfinished bracelet sitting to the side, perhaps I could help my boss out before we opened up the store, “I like your hoodie, I haven’t seen it on you before. Is it new?”

I bit my bottom lip as I shrugged, looking down at the fabric as I picked at the sleeves of it, suddenly very aware of the fact that not only the hoodie smelled like Mingi, but the rest of my clothes and hair as well. I hoped my boss couldn’t smell it as I sniffed at the collar of the hoodie, trying to stop myself from blushing when I realised everyone could tell I was wearing a man’s clothing. It didn’t feel too appalling to smell like Mingi, to wear his clothes and have others see it, the realisation wasn’t nearly as disheartening as I would’ve first assumed. Not that it felt empowering wearing a man’s hoodie, nor did I do it because I wanted the world to know that I had someone…because I didn’t. I was content on my own, sharing my space and time with a man who had the same life values as me, and respected me as much as I respected him. I hummed to myself, grabbing the emerald-coloured bracelet as I concluded that wearing Mingi’s clothes felt right, and not because I wanted the world to know I wasn’t alone, but because I knew it belonged to a person like Mingi.

>> next chapter

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eriochromatic · 2 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on what Silco was like before Vander tried to drown him? I'm seeing these takes on the Silco tag that he was always a bad person and not a real revolutionary, but I don't think that's true. The flashbacks suggest he was coming from a sincere place but became selfish, paranoid, and power hungry (controlling) post-fallout.

LOL I mean you're asking a Silco artist (who specifically likes drawing him in domestic settings) what they think about Silco. so like. no he's not a bad person to me haha.

Of course I'm in the camp that his actions were sincere, perhaps I'm a being a bit generous but I think his actions in s1 are still consistent with that sincerity of wanting undercity independence. We never know exactly what he was going to do once he got his nation of Zaun, so that can be left in the Schrodinger's box of interpretations, positive or negative. But he pretty much agreed to all of Jayce's non Jinx demands like stopping shimmer production and giving hextech back to Piltover. You could even argue that he didn't push back on the blockade that much because he knew he was close to getting independence and could temporarily stop shimmer trade. He specifically says "Jinx will deal with [the blockade]" which is a bit strange bc its not like Jinx is known for her diplomacy LOL. But I think it's because he knows Jinx is currently building a hextech weapon, and the blockade truly won't be an issue once they can just blast through it with Fishbones. Also, that entire scene was clearly there to indicate that unlike the other chem barons who can only see temporary solutions to fix their trade issues, Silco's underlying motivations are still Zaunite independence, not selfish capitalistic gains. Like, Finn clearly did not fucking understand how much power Zaun now has with the hex crystal, he was only focused on blockade hurting his own business.

Honestly calling Silco selfish is the weirdest take to me because the only selfishness we see him display is in relation to Jinx, and his possessiveness is more of a fear of abandonment than actually wanting to control her imo. I guess makes sense ppl might think of Silco that way since we see Silco most often in relation to Jinx, so that colors ppl's opinions. But if you take in account all the scenes that have nothing to do with Jinx… idk I find he's more lenient than the non-Silco fandom makes him out to be. Act 1 his ill will towards Vander was because of ideological and not personal reasons- he was willing to take Vander back if Vander supported Silco's ways. like. thats kind of insane to me. Silco already forgave Vander for ATTEMPTING TO MURDER HIM but was like "you know what's actually unforgivable? you becoming an enforcer bootlicker" idk how much more you can do to show that Silco isn't really motivated by personal selfish reasons (until Jinx came into his life) but revolutionary ones. And honestly I think he himself did not realize how much he loved Jinx until she nearly died, I don't believe for a second he was trying to manipulate her at any point in time. He's just a broken person trying to fix another broken person but like there's a reason why you gotta wear the oxygen mask first before helping your kid, I don't blame him for unintentionally pushing his trauma onto Jinx since it's not like there's therapy in Zaun

So yeah like. I see Silco in a very sympathetic light LOL, flawed and misguided perhaps but doing what he believes is necessary for success… you could argue that under Vander's leadership they would've just continued to be under Piltover's heel forever and Silco at least got something done idk. so I definitely see flashback Silco as someone who's even less culpable of whatever crimes he commits later on, he probably still has a bit of that youthful naivety and hope before the bridge incident fucked everything over lol. and I mean. as much as s2 was a mess, it unfortunately is canon. s2e7 Silco is clearly a well adjusted individual, if he really was a "bad person" I don't think the show would bother showing him in that AU.

Ultimately though I think people see what they want to see, if they already have a bad impression on him the flashback won't do him any favors, they'll just fit his actions into the box they've already given him.

Slight side tangent, there's a visual novel called Umineko (WHICH I THINK EVERYONE SHOULD READ, IT SHOULD BE REQUIRED READING), and a big theme in the story is "Without love, it cannot be seen," and that has really influenced the way I interact with characters in fictional narratives.

Obviously I love Silco as a character, I wouldn't be spending all this time drawing him if I didn't, and I've probably spent more time thinking about him than the average Arcane viewer. If a person watches Arcane and doesn't like Silco, I won't be surprised they come out of it with a surface level understanding of him without really diving deep into his motivations and actions. It's actually pretty funny because the friend that got me into Arcane was one of those Vi stans whose perception on him was on the more negative side but bc I yapped about him so much they've switched over to seeing the more positive side of him. And I mean same with me and Vi, I don't think I would like her as much as I do if it wasn't for that friend haha

#erio stuff #silco #sorry i love talking about him can u tell

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katescorner · 2 days ago

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more on fake dating osamu - drabble linked here

getting into a fake relationship with miya osamu, wing spiker and resident hearthrob, was not on your agenda for today. so it was extremely unexpected when he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a broom closet with him when you were on your way back to class from the bathroom. it was dark and a little humid, and the only sounds you could hear were from his heavy breathing and the small surprised gasp you gave.

when you were about to speak up, he put a finger to his lips, quieting your words before they could escape just as a herd of footsteps passed in the hallway. he sighed in relief, and though you couldn't see much, you watched his shoulders sag as the tension melted off of him.

"is this a bad time to tell you i'm a fan?" you don't mean it, but watching his face morph into shock is enough to elicit a soft laugh from you. "i'm kidding."

"that's not funny," he says despite the smile he breaks into. "i was . . ." he pauses, like he doesn't exactly what to say, so you help him out.

"running from mumus?"

a look between embarrassment and curiosity crossed his face. "is that what they call themselves?"

"mumus, katsus, taroteas, roses, shinderellas," you list out. "i could go on. honestly, they're pretty creative."

osamu cocks his head. "are these—fan names?" when you nodded, he seemed amused. "and you just happen to know all of them?"

"are you asking me if i like one of your teammates?"

"as long as it's not my piss-head brother."

you laugh at that and it comes out louder than you mean it to, a stark reminder that you two are still very much in a dark broom closet together not so far apart.

"so . . . are we going to stay in here forever?" you ask, eyes wandering as you feel yourself flush. "because i'm all for rendezvous in tight spaces, but i'm also really missing fresh air right now."

osamu tries not to be obvious about his disappointment in the conversation ending so soon. "yeah, me too."

you leave first, and the rush of air that enters the closet feels almost dizzying to osamu. you're dazzling under the light, and he doesn't want to let you go just yet because what if after all of this you two go back to not knowing each other. so he thinks—quickly, as if he were in the middle of a match right now—and the idea hits him all at once.

"do you want to go on a date with me?"

the question catches you off-guard and you're well aware of the weight of his words.

"what?"

osamu tumbles out of the closet, trying not to trip on his feet as he walks to you. "i hate that i have fans. the attention, it freaks me out. so i was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me . . . to get them off my back—the mumus i mean."

and you, blinking, decide what's the worst that could happen? "okay."

tagged @miruac @feyrfly

#i took ukai saying they're practically idols and ran with it #yes i'm a kpop fan is it obvious #haikyuu blurbs #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfiction #osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu haikyuu #osamu headcanons #osamu fluff #osamu fic #osamu imagine

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scentedluminarysoul · 11 hours ago

Text

SOMETIMES IT'S ON PURPOSE OKAY I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT SOMETIMES YOU REPEAT THE SAME WORD OR PHRASE ON PURPOSE IT'S A STYLISTIC CHOICE

Ahem. Also. You don't need to thesaurus every word. It's fine if you call a table a table multiple times

Honestly, writing has become so complicated and everyone's a critic and don't you DARE use the same word twice or start a sentence with "he" twice in a row!

Can we go back to actually caring about SUBSTANCE? About what it's trying to tell you?

I'm currently reading Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" from 1939. It's written so SIMPLY and yet it's so good and just effective in what it does.

Do you know how often it says "(character name) said:" and then just the dialogue? That's the vast majority of how her dialogues work. Simple, easy to understand, no confusion as to who's talking.

It's not fancy, and yet she's one of the best writers to have ever existed

I mean, look at this:

It's just a simple dialogue that keeps going like that.

One of the most repeated writing advices you read is "make your dialogue interesting", like give characters something to in between tags, etc.

But lads—this dialogue is interesting in and of itself. It's intriguing. Why would they also need to juggle chainsaws or low the lawn or whatever?

And the dialogue tag Christie uses most often is "said". Simply "said". Because it doesn't need more.

Here and there are a few hints as to how the characters are feeling ("angrily", "dryly", "after a minute or two"), but it's your job as a reader to UNDERSTAND and INTERPRET them, to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE READING.

And I think that's the big problem nowadays: people don't want to think about it anymore. TikTok girlies brag about reading 3 books a day, but they don't UNDERSTAND them. That much is clear when you listen to them talk about books

And this is also what people mean that you should read when you want to become a writer. Because you can read all the writing tips ever online, but that will only make you go insane and insecure.

READ and you will see how they're applied. Or not. And even then the book is still good

And no book is perfect or even good from start to finish. There will be dull moments, or misses in even the best books

And you need to see those flaws in order to become a writer

I forgot about that myself.

The key to writing well isn't to use the best and most interesting words perfectly

It's to use the words you have effectively.

Sorry OP, didn't need to rant

But sometimes all these clever "writing tips to become a better writer" are really missing what's truly makes a good writer:

The heart

Of you only count how many times someone used the same word in a paragraph, instead of trying to understand what that paragraph is telling you, you don't care about the art of writing

Actually you CAN use the same word twice in the same paragraph. The same sentence even. If it's funny, if it's for emphasis, if it's harping on a theme, if you're sexy and you do whatever you want forever. Write on

#Anyway rant over #Writing

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mickyschumacher · 3 days ago

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[HAND IN HEART series!]

welcome to the hand in heart series!

this series involves five one shots with five athletes centred around valentine's day, all with different tropes.

i really wanted to write something because valentine's is coming up, and this is my birth month so why the hell not? this also happens to be my first time trying something like this so bear with me ♡︎

p.s. a tag list can be made if anyone wants one. just hit me up in my requests, including any specific fics you want to be tagged in.

1. BAKED WITH LOVE.

oscar piastri x fem!reader

⤷ you've never wanted to risk your friendship with oscar. but the lines become blurred when oscar shows up to your door on valentine's day with a bag of baking ingredients. [friends to lovers]

2. RED STRING.... TBA (11TH FEBRUARY)

franco colapinto x fem!reader

⤷ spending valentine's day alone, franco thinks he fallen in love at first sight. the only problem? the connection between you too is tied with an invisible string. [strangers to lovers]

3. I THINK HE KNOWS.... TBA (12TH FEBRUARY)

lando norris x fem!reader

⤷ a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist. but all it does it take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake. [fake dating]

4. I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY.... TBA (13TH FEBRUARY)

jobe bellingham x fem!reader

⤷ it's been more than eight months since you and jobe broke up. that should be plenty of time to move on. but out of all the cafes in birmingham, you and jobe meet at your favourite on valentine's day. [ex-lovers to lovers]

5. CHÉRIE... TBA (14TH FEBRUARY)

charles leclerc x fem!reader

⤷ heading into ferrari for a new season, you think you're pretty focused. but things don't look too good when a series of love notes from your secret admirer start appearing out of nowhere. [co-workers to lovers]

#mickyschumacher #micky's hand in heart series ❦#oscar piastri x reader #franco colapinto x reader #lando norris x reader #jobe bellingham x reader #charles leclerc x reader

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jungkoode · 22 hours ago

Text

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 09

˗ˏˋ rules ˎˊ˗

"Rules are funny things. You make them thinking they'll keep you safe, keep everything contained. But sometimes the person you're really trying to protect yourself from… is you"

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 6.5k

content: candle shop shenanigans, friend group dynamics, rules and boundaries

✧ author's note ✧

OKAY FIRST OF ALL—who absolutely LOVES Yeji? Because ME. The way she clocked Jungkook within seconds and had NO filter??? Like, I'm obsessed. Mans was genuinely SHOCKED that someone told him to sit his ass down. The audacity of this woman to not immediately melt under his smirky, tattooed menace energy?? I respect her so much. A feminist icon, if you will.

And IRYA. Ughhh, my precious girlie. The way she’s just casually vibing with Jungkook? Like?? They are NOTHING alike, and yet she’s over here just mingling with him, being friendly, unbothered, meanwhile Yeji is foaming at the mouth in the background. I love that contrast so much. It’s like, she doesn’t see him as a threat, just another guy in the room, which makes Jungkook (who is used to either being hated or obsessed over) lowkey confused. You can see the gears turning in his head like “Wait. Why aren’t you scared of me. Or pissed at me. Or flirting with me.” HAHAH POOR BOY.

And let’s talk about Jimin, because HELLO, my quiet support KING. He’s not even saying much in this chapter, but he’s there, next to Y/N, just in case. That kind of silent loyalty? The “I know you can handle yourself, but if you need me, I’m already here” type of presence??? I eat that up every time. Their friend group is everything to me.

Speaking of menace behavior—Jungkook. Are we surprised? He’s so unserious about everything. I loved giving him Kuko as a contact name for Y/N because in every fic, it’s always Kook or Kookie or Koo and I just—I wanted something different. Something slightly sharp and weird. Like, why does it sound like a pet name and an insult at the same time 😭😭 It’s PERFECT for their dynamic.

And finally, Y/N. My messy, mouthy, disaster baby. She is THEE representation of someone who’s barely entered adulthood, fresh into uni, kind of immature, kind of figuring it out, but loud as hell about it. Like, I KNOW some of y’all are probably reading this chapter thinking “girl, seriously??” but THAT'S THE POINT. She’s got so much personality, she’s a walking contradiction, she’s flawed, but she’s HER. I love her for it.

I also stuffed this chapter with SO many Easter eggs. Like, the foreshadowing is right there at the end, but I know y’all aren’t catching everything yet. You’ll come back later, reread it, and be like “OH MY GOD, KIKI???” And I’ll just be sitting here like 😌✌️ I love when a plan comes together.

Anyway, here’s Chapter 9, babes. Enjoy the mess. I’m off to go prep for my therapist session because, let’s be real, I probably projected a little too hard in this one LMAO.

⋆｡°✩ read on ✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You don't know why you agreed to go shopping with Yeji.

She texted at ass o'clock in the morning about "needing your expert opinion," and honestly? Your sleep-deprived brain just went sure, whatever without processing the implications. You just mentioned having to buy something for Emma — her birthday's in two weeks — and it was downhill from there.

"This place smells like a Pinterest board threw up," Yeji announces as you enter the third candle store of the day. Some fancy boutique with mason jars everywhere and prices that make you want to cry. "Who names a candle Whispers of Moonlight?"

"Someone getting paid way too much," you mutter, checking the price tag. Jesus. "Forty dollars for—is this supposed to smell like grass?"

"Rich people grass." Yeji picks up another one, face scrunching. "Autumn's Last Kiss. What does that even mean? Like, trees making out?"

"Pretty sure it's just pumpkin spice trying to be fancy."

"Capitalism is wild." She moves down the aisle, combat boots squeaking against the polished floor. "Oh shit, look at this one. Midnight Jasmine's Secret Rendezvous. That's not a candle, that's a Mills & Boon novel."

You snort, trailing after her. "Speaking of reading material—"

"We are not starting a book club book chat right now."

"I'm just saying, if you actually showed up to Victorian Lit—"

"And listen to Professor Stevens cream himself over Dickens for two hours? Pass." She picks up another candle, this one in black glass. "Dark Temptation. Bet you five bucks it smells like axe body spray."

She's not wrong. You wrinkle your nose as she waves it under your face. "Why does everything 'dark' and 'masculine' smell like a frat house?"

"Because the straights are not okay." Yeji sets it back, wiping her hands on her jeans like the scent might be contagious. "What did Emma say she likes again?"

"Anything except roses." You pause at a display of seasonal scents. "Her roommate burns those generic rose ones from the dollar store. Pretty sure she's traumatized."

"Valid." Yeji's already moved on to the next shelf, picking up random ones and reading their names in increasingly dramatic voices. "Summer's Sweet Embrace. Woodland Mystery. Oh my god, Bachelor's Button? What the fuck is a bachelor's button?"

"It's a flower," you say, distracted by a actually nice-looking sage and cedar one. Still overpriced, but... "My mom used to grow them."

"Sounds fake, but okay."

She’s quiet for a second. Then:

"What about this one?" Yeji holds up a purple candle, squinting at the label. "Lavender Dreams. Sounds pretentious as fuck."

"Put that down before you break it," you mutter, scanning the shelves. The prices are criminal. “And aren't you supposed to be in Art History right now?"

"Professor Wang's doing that thing again where he talks about his divorce for two hours." She shrugs, setting the candle back with surprising care. "I've already heard all about Karen three times this semester."

You roll your eyes, picking up a sage-scented one. And no, you're not lingering in the candle section because you love them, okay? Emma likes candles too. It's completely reasonable research for a birthday gift. Nothing to do with how your apartment could use some—

"These are boring anyway," Yeji declares, already moving on. Her attention snaps to something across the street. Barnes & Noble, its windows displaying the latest bestsellers.

"Wanna check out some books?" she asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of her worn-out grey zip-up. The one she definitely stole from Irya's closet.

"Since when do you read?" You snort, following her out of the candle store. Because you know damn well Yeji's idea of "reading" is skimming SparkNotes twenty minutes before class.

"Woah, judging a book by its cover?" She gestures to her whole aesthetic: combat boots, ripped jeans, that stolen sweater. "Just 'cause I look like this doesn't mean I don't read."

"You told me last week that Romeo and Juliet was, and I quote, 'straight people nonsense.'"

"It is straight people nonsense." She pushes open the bookstore's door, a blast of air conditioning hitting you. "But we need books for the club."

"You mean the chat group you named 'Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club' that's basically just for rambling and complaining?" Like how you ended up here today, victim to Yeji's class-skipping schemes. "That club?"

"Yeah?" She flashes that smile that you’re starting to associate with trouble. "C'mon, I need to check if they have Pride and Prejudice."

You trail after her into Fiction & Literature, past towering shelves and that distinct bookstore smell. "Pride and—hold up. Weren't you just shitting on romance classics?"

"Yeah, and?" She's already scanning the 'A' section with laser focus. "My girl wants to read it, so we're reading it."

"You're buying it because Irya mentioned it once in the group chat."

"And?" Yeji doesn't even pretend to deny it, moving purposefully through the aisles. "My girlfriend has taste. Unlike some people who waste their time reading..." she picks up a random book, "The Art of Corporate Finance."

"That's not even—"

"Found it!" She pulls out a leather-bound edition, definitely not the cheapest version available. "Look at this fancy shit. Irya's gonna love it."

You're about to point out how whipped she is when something catches your eye. A "Now Hiring" sign at the front counter, clean white letters against dark wood. Huh. You've been meaning to look for a job, something to get you out of the apartment more. And to help your finances. too. God knows you’d rather avoid having to ask mom and daddy for more money.

"Earth to Y/N?" Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You good?"

"Yeah, just..." You gesture vaguely at the sign.

Working at a bookstore wouldn't be the worst thing. Plus, employee discount.

"Oh shit, you should totally apply." She examines the sign with newfound interest. "Then you can hook me up with discounts on all the books Irya wants."

"I haven't even—"

"Excuse me?" she calls to a passing employee, ignoring your attempt to shut her up. "My friend here wants to apply for the job opening."

You're going to kill her. Slowly. With one of these hardcover books.

But the employee's already turning around—young guy, probably another student, name tag reading 'Mark'—and you can't exactly bolt without looking insane. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark brightens. "We're actually pretty desperate for people who can work weekday afternoons. You have any retail experience?"

"I—"

"She's great with books," Yeji cuts in, because apparently she's your agent now. "Like, literally will fight someone over their trash literary takes. You should hear her rant about Hemingway."

You shoot her a death glare, but... well, she's not wrong about Hemingway.

"That's actually perfect," Mark says. "We get a lot of students asking for recommendations. Here—" He heads to the counter, returning with an application form. "You can fill this out now if you want. Manager's still here."

And somehow, because the universe hates you, you end up at one of the reading tables, filling out your work history while Yeji "helps" by suggesting you list your special skills as "roasting bad authors" and "setting pretentious men straight about their Joyce opinions."

Your phone buzzes. Group chat.

6B Hell

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜? 𝚆𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚛𝚗

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚆𝚎’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟻𝚝𝚑

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚗

You're about to reply that you'll grab some later when another message pops up.

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

What the actual fuck?

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚌

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

You let out a disbelieving sound. Yeji, who's been "helping" by pointing out every minor spelling mistake in your application, peers over your shoulder.

"What's up?"

"My roommate being a jerk as usual." You know for a fact Jungkook's probably sprawled on the couch right now, doing fuck-all except maybe killing brain cells on his PlayStation. But sure, you should get the coffee.

You: 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘, 𝚒’𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚘𝚝

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚎?

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard. That asshole.

You: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗?

You: 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝…

You: 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎?

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽.

Something about Yoongi’s message makes you pause. That's... weird. But before you can think about it:

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 :)

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

"I'm assuming he means video games," Yeji says, still reading. "Not the fun kind of grinding."

You elbow her in the ribs.

You: 𝚔 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝

You: 𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘

You: 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎? :)

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚗𝚊𝚑 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚡? ;)

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜?

+1 (917) XXX-XXXX: 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 :)

You're going to murder him. You're actually going to commit homicide, and Yoongi's going to have to find a new roommate, and you know what? He'll probably thank you.

You: 𝚛𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕

You: :)

"So," Yeji says as you aggressively save his number under 'Kuko🖕🏻', "this is fun."

"I hate him so much."

"Uh-huh." She glances at your phone, where he's still sending coffee emoji spam. "You know what this means though, right?"

"That I need better roommates?"

"That you're definitely getting this job." She taps the half-completed application. "Can't spend all your time at the apartment if you're working retail hours."

She... might have a point.

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚢

Yoongs 🎧: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝

Yoongs 🎧: 𝚈/𝙽, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚎,𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your phone buzzes again, but this time it's the other group chat. Thank fuck.

Fuck The Patriarchy Book Club 📚

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜?

Irya 🌸: 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗

Jin ☕️: 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

Jin ☕️: 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝟻𝟶𝚔𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝟻.

Jin ☕️: 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎.

Your phone keeps vibrating with notifications from the other chat. You peek at it.

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Jesus fucking Christ.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚢/𝚗’𝚜?

Yeji 🖤: 𝚠𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

Your head snaps up. "Excuse me?"

"What?" Yeji doesn't even look guilty. "You keep complaining about him, might as well know what we’re working with here."

You: 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Irya 🌸: 𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚢𝚎𝚜!! 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??

Irya 🌸: 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒�� 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗

Irya 🌸: 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎?

You let out a loud sigh, now considering Irya’s question. Because part of you thinks about bringing unwanted guests to the apartment, about how that could disturb the peace, especially for Yoongi.

But also? Also, Jungkook brought his friends last time. No warning, no group chat message to let you know you’d meeting random dudes in your pokemon PJs.

So he can suck it, honestly.

You: 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

You: 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘

Jin ☕️: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙹𝚘𝚎’𝚜.

Jin ☕️: 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎.

Jin ☕️: 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗.

Another cascade of coffee emojis floods your notifications. You switch back to the apartment chat.

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡𝚡

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚒𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

Kuko🖕🏻: 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟿𝟶% 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚎

Kuko🖕🏻: ☕️

You hit mute so fast you nearly crack your screen.

You: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎

You: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝙾𝚄’𝚁𝙴 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚎𝚓𝚒

Yeji 🖤: 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘 𝚗𝚘

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝟻𝟶 𝚋𝚞𝚌𝚔�� 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔

Yeji 🖤: 𝚒𝚖 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎

Irya 🌸: 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔? 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎? 👀

Irya 🌸: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔?!?!?! 💘

Jin ☕️: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Jin ☕️: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚜.

Yeji 🖤: 𝚜𝚑𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢

Yeji 🖤: 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜

"So," Yeji says, watching you aggressively fill out the availability section of your application. "Should we warn your roommate about pizza night or...?"

You think about the endless coffee emojis. About how he's probably still spamming them, the notifications piling up in your muted chat.

"Nope."

She grins. "Chaos it is."

You make it to your apartment after what feels like the longest trek ever, juggling the coffee capsules bag and your dignity. And no, you didn't buy them because of him, okay? You bought them because Yoongi deserves his caffeine fix. Yoongi, who actually helped you carry boxes up flights of stairs when you moved in. Yoongi, who warns you when the hot water's acting up. Yoongi, who—unlike some people—doesn't blast music at 3AM.

"Still can't believe you actually bought them," Yeji says for the fifth time, trailing behind you up the stairs. "Like, you're really just gonna enable his bratty ass?"

"They're not for him." You dig through your bag for your keys. "I got the regular ones for Yoongi. The vanilla ones are mine."

"Uh-huh." She's got that look again. "And you got the vanilla ones because...?"

"Because I like vanilla coffee." Your keys jangle aggressively as you search. "Not everything is about him."

"I offered to spike them," she reminds everyone, way too loudly for a hallway. "Could've made it look factory-sealed and everything."

Jimin looks slightly concerned. "Do I want to know why you know how to do that?"

"Probably not," Irya says cheerfully. "But that's why I love her."

You finally locate your keys, jamming them into the lock. It sticks—because of course it does, these old-ass doors—and you have to do that weird wiggle thing to get it open. "The last thing I need is a lawsuit for attempted murder by coffee."

"It wouldn't kill him," Yeji argues. "Just, you know. Mild poisoning. Character building."

"Pretty sure that's still illegal," Jimin says.

"Only if you get caught."

The door finally gives, swinging open to reveal... nobody. The living room's empty, thank fuck. No sign of Yoongi or—more importantly—no sign of him. Maybe they're both out. Maybe you'll actually get through this pizza night without any—

"Yo, this is actually nice," Yeji says, already making herself at home on the couch. "When you said 'bros' cave' I was expecting, like, beer pong tables and stolen street signs."

"Those are in Jungkook's room," you mutter, dropping the coffee bag on the kitchen counter. Not that you've seen his room. You haven't. Obviously.

Irya's examining the vinyl collection by the TV. "These are good albums. Your roommates have taste."

"Those are Yoongi's." Probably. You're like 90% sure they're Yoongi's. You've never actually asked.

"The place is surprisingly clean," Jimin notes, still hovering politely by the door. "Need help with anything?"

"Nah, just—" You pause as something orange streaks past. "Oh, shit, wait—Griffin, no—"

Too late. Your cat roommate's already winding between Jimin's legs, purring like the attention whore he is.

"You have a cat?" Irya drops to her knees immediately. "Oh my god, he's gorgeous."

"He's not mine." You dump your bag on the counter. "He's Jungkook's emotional support menace."

"Like owner, like cat," Yeji says, watching Griffin charm his way into Jimin's arms.

"True." You roll your eyes. "Demanding, dramatic, and constantly in the way."

Griffin headbutts Jimin's shin, purring louder.

"Should I..." He looks uncertain. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, he does that." You start unpacking the coffee capsules. “He's harmless. Just attention-starved and thinks he owns the place."

"Again," Yeji says, "like owner, like cat."

"Pretty much.”

"At least the cat's cute." She stretches out on the couch, combat boots definitely leaving marks. "Makes up for the personality."

"Tragic how the genes weren't distributed evenly," you mutter, strategizing about how to arrange the coffee capsules in the cabinet. Normal ones for Yoongi, vanilla ones hidden in the back where grabby hands can't reach them.

Irya's still on the floor with Griffin, who's now rolled onto his back. "I don't know, he seems sweet."

"The cat? Yeah." You slam the cabinet open. "The owner? Walking nightmare."

"Speaking of nightmares." Jimin's still by the door, ever polite. "Should we maybe warn him we're having pizza here? Since it's his apartment too..."

You think about the forty-seven coffee emojis still sitting in your muted notifications.

"Nope."

"Absolutely not," Yeji agrees. "He can deal with it like she dealt with having his dudebro friends over last week."

Irya looks up from scratching Griffin's belly. "Oh yeah, didn't you say you ran into them in your—what was it?"

"Pokemon pajamas," you groan. "Look, they were clean, okay? And it was like, Saturday morning. Who has people over at Saturday morning?"

"Douchebags," Yeji supplies helpfully.

You're about to agree when you hear it. A door opening down the hall. Footsteps.

Of-fucking-course.

"You bought the coffee, phoenix?"

The drawl comes from behind you, and you briefly consider whether jail time for murder would really be that bad. Jungkook's leaning against his doorframe in—are those fucking Sonic pajama pants?—looking like he just rolled out of bed. At 7PM. Because of course he did.

"Nice little reunion you got going on here, by the way."

He yawns, running a hand through his messy hair as he saunters into the kitchen. Like this is totally fine. Like having your friends over without warning isn't exactly what he did last week with Hoseok and Taehyung—who, by the way, apparently has keys to your fucking apartment.

You pointedly ignore him, which would work better if he wasn't literally heading straight for you. He reaches around you to rummage through the shopping bags, and you slap his hands away.

“Get out of my stuff."

"Oh," he pulls out the vanilla capsules before you can stop him, "you actually got me the vanilla ones?"

"They're not for you." You snatch them back. "Get your hands off them."

He grabs for them again. "Pretty sure you bought them because—"

"I bought them for me." You yank them away, but he's already going for the other bag. "Oh my god, can you not—"

"So this is the pain in the ass?" Yeji's voice drips with disdain from the couch.

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, still trying to get his hands on your shopping. "Who's Cruella de Vil over there?"

You elbow him away from the bags. "None of your—"

"Another candle?" He snatches it up, holding it over his head where you can't reach. Dick. "Seriously? After last time?"

"If you'd stop making everything smell like balls and nachos—" You jump for it, but he just stretches higher, "—I wouldn't have to buy them, Rogue."

"I don't smell like—"

"Wait," Irya interrupts, and you catch her hiding a smile behind her hand. "Phoenix?"

"Rogue?" Jimin adds quietly from his corner, looking between you back and forth.

Jungkook's smirk widens as he finally lets you grab the candle back. "Oh, she hasn't told you that story?"

"We are not discussing this again." You shove the candle in its bag. "Ever."

"Why not? It's hilarious." He's fully grinning now, leaning his hip against the counter like he owns it. "Haven't told them about how you almost set the place on fire your first week here?"

"BECAUSE YOU ENTERED THE HOUSE LIKE A FUCKING—" Your hand's fisted in his t-shirt before you can stop yourself, and he's snickering, the absolute dick. "Like a complete psychopath," you finish through gritted teeth.

"The lock sticks!" He's still laughing. "I told you, it's an old door—"

"You didn't have to shoulder it open like the SWAT team!"

"You dropped a lit match!"

"Because you scared the shit out of me!"

"Ugh," Yeji groans. "Is he always like this?"

"Worse," you mutter, finally releasing his shirt. "Usually he's too busy being edgy in his room with his electric guitar."

Irya's definitely smirking now. Jimin looks like he wants to disappear into the wall.

"Whatever, phoenix." He makes another grab for the vanilla capsules. "Rising from the ashes of your attempted arson."

"That's not—" You smack his hand away. "That's not why you started calling me that and you know it."

"Pretty sure it is."

"Pretty sure you're full of shit."

Griffin chooses this moment to abandon Irya and wind between Jungkook's legs, the little traitor. Jungkook immediately scoops him up, and you pretend not to notice how the cat starts purring instantly.

"See?" He scratches under Griffin's chin. "G knows I'm right."

"G's a whore for attention." You start shoving the shopping bags away. "He'd side with Satan if Satan had treats."

"So that's why he likes you."

"You calling me Satan now? Wasn't it phoenix? Pick your poison, dumbass."

"Nah." He's still petting Griffin, who's practically melting in his arms. "Just saying you're both dramatic as fuck."

"Says the guy who kicked down a door over a—"

"The lock was stuck!"

"Yeah? Like your head up your ass?"

“Do you two always do this?” Irya prompts.

"No," you mutter, yanking the coffee bag away as he tries to sneak another grab at it. "When he's not gaming like a twelve-year-old, he's—stop touching my stuff!"

"Just checking what flavor you got," he says innocently, which might work better if he wasn't actively trying to steal the vanilla capsules. "Since you bought them for me and all—"

"I will actually murder you."

"With what? Another candle?"

"Keep talking and find out."

"Children," Yeji interrupts, looking physically pained. "Can we not?"

But Jungkook's already reaching for the bag again, and you swat his hand away. "I swear to god—"

"What? I'm just being neighborly—"

"You're being a pain in the ass—"

"Aw, you noticed?"

"Hard not to when you're—" You break off as he successfully snags a vanilla capsule. "Give that back."

"Make me."

"What are you, five?"

"Says the one hoarding coffee—"

"It's my coffee—"

"Pretty sure you bought it with daddy's credit card—"

The words hit like a slap and before you can think better of it, you snarl, "Fuck you."

Your eyes widen the second it leaves your mouth because you know that look on his face, that slight quirk of his lips, the way he's already—

You slam your hand over his mouth so fast you practically punch him, fingers digging into his jaw. He makes a muffled sound of protest, but you can feel him grinning under your palm, the absolute dick.

"Don't," you hiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

He raises his eyebrows like who, me? but you can feel him trying not to laugh.

"Okay!" Jimin claps his hands together, looking slightly alarmed. "So, pizza? Anyone want to look at the menu?”

“Oooh, that sounds promising.” Jungkook says, yanking your hand away.

"Can't you leave?" You eye him. "Go jack yourself off while you look in the mirror or something. Maybe play your fucking guitar."

"Huhhh?" He's already propping his elbows on the back of the sofa, leaning over the narrow table that ‘separates’ the kitchen from the living room. "I want pizza too. Plus, your friends look nice." His smile is all teeth. "I'm sure they don't mind."

Jimin materializes next to you in the kitchen like some kind of conflict-sensing angel, pretending to be interested in the coffee maker. You know he's checking if you're okay, which would be sweet if you weren't currently fantasizing about drowning Jungkook in vanilla coffee.

"I mind," Yeji announces flatly.

"No problem!" Irya chirps at the same time.

Yeji shoots her girlfriend an exasperated look, but Irya just settles more comfortably against her side. You're going to kill both of them.

"Who's the pink pony over here?" Jungkook nods at Irya, and you see Yeji's arm tighten around her shoulders, hackles practically visible.

"Touch her and die."

"Aww, babe." Irya pats Yeji's thigh. "I'm Irya, and this little black cat over here is my girlfriend Yeji." She points across the room. "That's Jimin."

Jungkook glances back at where you're now aggressively reorganizing coffee capsules, Jimin hovering uncertainly beside you. There's something in his expression you don't like, mouth opening to say god knows what—

"And the third roommate?" Yeji cuts in.

You're about to answer but Jungkook beats you to it. "Yoongi's not here."

"Working late," you add, just to be contrary. "You know, like an actual adult with a job?"

"Unlike some people," Yeji mutters.

You snort at her commentary, and you tune out Jungkook’s comeback. Instead your eyes flicker to Jimin, who’s scrolling through his phone, probably looking at pizza options, when—

"Yo Jim, come here." Jungkook waves him over. "Let me look at the menu."

You grab Jimin's arm before he can move, linking it with yours. "I'm choosing first, wait your damn turn."

Jungkook rises from the sofa with a click of his tongue. "Come on, I just wanna—"

"Did she fucking stutter?" Yeji snaps, and Jungkook actually blinks, like he's not used to being shut down that fast.

You turn back to Jimin's phone with maybe a bit too much satisfaction. "Okay, so what are we thinking?"

"They have this new quattro formaggi that's supposed to be good." Jimin tilts the screen so you can see better. "Or the classic margherita—"

"Boring," you mutter, scrolling past. "Oh, what about the spicy one? With the—"

"The calabrese?" He zooms in on the description. "Spicy salami, fresh basil..."

"That looks good." You're actually getting hungry now. "Maybe we could—"

A shadow falls over the phone as Jungkook appears in front of you like some kind of pizza-seeking missile. He peers over both your lowered heads, close enough that you can feel the heat from his chest, and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

"Have you two decided?" His breath hits your ear. "Because I—"

You're about to grab a fistful of his hair and yank him back to a respectable distance when he snatches Jimin's phone right out of his hands.

"What the fuck—" You start to reach for him, but Jimin catches your wrist.

"It's okay," he says quietly. "Don't worry about it."

Jungkook's already scrolling, completely unbothered. "Yo, what do you two want?" He nods at the couch without looking up.

"Hawaiian for me," Irya pipes up cheerfully. "Yeji wants the diavola, extra spicy."

Yeji just grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "men" and turns on the TV.

"Cool, cool." Jungkook's still scrolling. "Phoenix, you getting the calabrese?"

"None of your business."

"Just trying to make sure we don't order the same thing." He glances up with that insufferable smirk. "Unless you want to share?"

"I'd rather eat glass."

"Okay, so that's a no on sharing." He's still scrolling through Jimin's phone like he owns it. "I'm thinking meat lovers."

"Of course you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're basic as fuck."

"Says the one getting—" he squints at the screen "—spicy calabrese, like some—"

"Can you two shut up for five minutes?" Yeji snaps from the couch. "Some of us are trying to hear the TV."

"My bad," Jungkook says, not sounding sorry at all. He hands Jimin's phone back—finally—and stretches. "Alright, four pizzas ordered. Now we wait."

You watch him sprawl onto the armchair—the one he keeps arguing it’s his (it’s not?)—like he belongs there, and something about it sets your teeth on edge. The casual way he's inserted himself into your evening, how he's somehow charmed Irya into actual conversation, how he keeps looking at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.

"Whatever, man." You push away from the counter, desperate to get away from his presence for at least two minutes. "I'm gonna get into my PJs, I'll be back."

You head down the hall, your skin prickling like he's watching you go. Which he's not. Obviously. You're just on edge because he's being more insufferable than usual, getting all cozy with your friends like he has any right to—

"Yo, phoenix, wait." Jungkook's voice stops you. "Remember that thing with the landlord? The, uh, maintenance form?"

"What maintenance form?"

"You mentioned to Yoongi about the lock sticking, right?" He's already moving towards you with that easy confidence that makes you want to punch him. "Super's been bitching about proper documentation. Needs your signature since it's your door."

He keeps talking as he approaches, something about liability and repair schedules, and it sounds legitimate enough that you almost miss how he's gradually crowding your space. Almost miss how each step brings him closer until—

He reaches past you, hand brushing your hip as he turns the handle. The door barely has time to click shut before Jungkook’s on you, his whole body crowding into yours, ushering you backward so fast you stumble. Almost fall.

“Jesus—”

Your balance tips, but before you can catch yourself, his hands are already on you—grabbing, steadying, possessive. A solid chest against yours, broad palms locking around your wrists before you can shove him away.

He grins down at you, smirky, flushed, pupils blown. That lazy, cocky amusement dripping from his expression like he planned this. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Relax, Phoenix.” His grip tightens, pulling your wrists just slightly apart. “You’re fine.”

And then his mouth crashes onto yours.

Hard. Messy. Zero warning, zero hesitation. Just heat and teeth and tongue, urgent like he needs to shut you up.

You match him instantly, kissing back just as fiercely, nails curling into his shirt, yanking him closer. His hair is soft under your fingers, thick and dangerous, and you tug—just the way he likes it. Just the way that always makes him groan, makes him grab.

Which he does. Both hands drop to your ass, full palms, fingers digging in like he can’t help himself. A rough squeeze that pulls a breathy sound from your throat before you can stop it.

He chuckles, low and wrecked against your lips, hips rolling slow and deliberate against yours.

“Fuck—” Another squeeze, his voice dropping. “You get all mouthy with me, and then you act surprised when you turn me on?”

Your stomach flips.

His mouth is still moving against yours, sharp and demanding, and fuck—you’re dizzy, heat curling low and deep.

You don’t realize he’s backing you up until your spine collides with the wardrobe.

You wince. “God, fuck—”

Jungkook barely lets you finish before his teeth graze your jaw, lips dragging lower—

No.

You shove at his chest, breath coming fast. “What is your problem?”

His smirk is instant, panting slightly, lips wrecked. The fucking look in his eyes—smoky, half-lidded, shamelessly pleased with himself.

“Mm?�� He tilts his head, like he didn’t just grope the hell out of you. “What?”

“You can’t—” A sharp inhale. You straighten your shirt, glare sharp enough to cut. “My friends are here.”

He blinks. Shrugs. "So?"

"So," you bite out, "we are not doing this."

Jungkook just looks at you, like you’re speaking a foreign language. "Doing what?"

"Don't." You level him with a flat stare.

His head tilts, gaze dragging over you, slow and deliberate. "I just wanted to talk."

"Talk," you repeat, incredulous.

"Yeah." He plants a hand on the wardrobe beside your head. Not caging you in—just existing in your space, like he belongs there. "Privately."

Jesus fuck.

"Nope." You press your palms to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through cotton. "Not happening."

"Phoenix." His voice dips, lazy and smooth, like he’s humoring you. "I'll be quick."

A disbelieving scoff. "Absolutely the fuck not."

He laughs, quiet and amused, like this is funny to him.

Of course it is. Of course it is.

You shove at his chest again. "They don’t know about this, and they’re not going to know about this."

His brows pull together, expression open, genuinely confused. "Why?"

Oh, you could kill him.

"Because," you grind out, "I don't need them speculating."

"Speculating about what?"

"About us, dumbass!"

The words land—and then he snorts. He just, snorts. Like you just told him a funny joke he lowkey doesn’t want to laugh at.

"Oh, fuck off," you snap.

His grin lingers. "Nix. We fuck. That’s it. No one’s gonna think we’re picking out wedding invitations."

You glare. "You're missing the point."

"I really don't think I am."

"Rogue." You exhale sharply. "I don’t want them in my business, okay?"

He watches you for a beat, head tilted like he’s reading between the lines.

Then he nods. Simple. Easy. "Okay."

You blink. "Okay?"

"Yeah?" He shrugs. "You don’t want them to know, they won’t know. It’s not that deep."

Right. Not that deep.

It shouldn’t be a relief—he’s only agreeing because he doesn’t care—but your shoulders still drop a fraction.

"Good," you say.

He hums, gaze flicking over your face, considering. "I mean, it’s not like you gotta tell them I’m your boyfriend or something. Just that we fuck sometimes. What’s wrong with that?"

You scoff. "Everything is wrong with that, Jungkook."

He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Like—god, where do you start?

Like the fact that this is supposed to be contained, something that stays locked in this apartment and nowhere else. Like the fact that you need to be in control of it because if you’re not, it means it’s spiraling, and spiraling is—

Not an option.

He hums, considering. The vibration shivers over your skin. "Interesting."

The fuck does that mean?

You glare at him. "What?"

"Nothing." But there's a glint in his eye you don't like. Knowing. Assessing. "Just seems like you're overthinking it."

"I'm not—"

"Ashamed?" His head tilts. "Embarrassed?"

Heat crawls up your neck. "Fuck you."

"I mean." A slow drag of his gaze, head to toe and back again. "If you insist..."

Oh my god.

Your foot connects with his shin. Hard. He grunts, flinching back. Good.

"Touch me again," you growl, "and you lose your dick."

He holds up his hands. The picture of innocence. "Message received."

"Is it?" You cross your arms. Narrow your eyes. "Because it seems like you're having trouble understanding basic fucking boundaries."

"Nah, I get it." But there's a wicked glint in his eye, and oh, that can't be good. "No telling your friends about all the filthy things we do."

"There is no we.” You jab a finger at his chest. "No us."

A slow nod. "Right."

"I mean it, Rogue." You hold his gaze, unflinching. "This?" A sharp gesture between your bodies. "Doesn't leave this apartment."

"Mm." His tongue swipes over his bottom lip. Deliberate. Obscene. "So I shouldn't mention how you like it when I—"

Your hand clamps over his mouth, muffling his words. "Finish that sentence and die."

He grins against your palm, wholly unrepentant. Bastard.

You drop your hand. Take a step back. "I'm serious, Ry."

"Oh, I know." But there's a curl to his lips you don't trust. Not one bit.

"Do you?" You cross your arms. "Because it sounds like you're angling for a free pass to run your mouth."

"Nah." He mirrors your posture, arms folding over his chest. “Just getting a feel for the rules."

Right. Sure. "The rules are simple." You hold up a finger. "Rule one: no one knows we're fucking."

A nod. "Easy enough."

"Rule two," you continue, "if anyone asks, we're just roommates."

"Uh-huh." His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. Considering. "That all?"

Wariness prickles up your spine. "Why?"

A shrug. Too casual. "No reason."

Bullshit.

You shake your head. "Just—forget it. Are we done here?"

Jungkook watches you for another long second.

Then he nods. "Yeah, we're done."

He turns, already reaching for the doorknob, when—

"Oh." A pause. Like he just remembered something. "And just so we're clear—this isn’t exclusive, right?"

You blink. "What?"

He glances back, expression easy. Casual. "Like, I can fuck other people. That cool with you?"

A laugh bursts out of you. Short. Sharp. "Why the fuck would I care?"

His mouth twitches. "Dunno. Just making sure."

"Well, consider it confirmed." You fold your arms. "Do whatever the fuck you want, just—"

He lifts his brows. "Just?"

"Don’t give me an STD." You level him with a flat look.

He snorts. "Noted." A beat. Then, amused— "You want test results?"

"Oh, fuck off, Rogue."

"Just offering, Phoenix." His smirk lingers for half a second before his expression smooths out. "So, rule number three, then."

You narrow your eyes. "Rule what?"

"Rules." He gestures between you. "One: no one knows. Two: if they ask, we're just roommates." A pause. "Three: no feelings."

Something in his voice shifts, something light but pointed, like he's not saying it just for your benefit.

You scoff. "Yeah, no shit."

He nods once, satisfied. "Cool."

And then he's gone, door clicking shut behind him like the whole thing never happened.

The air in the room is suddenly too thick.

You exhale sharply, back hitting the wardrobe, and press your palms over your face.

God damn him.

Not just for being an insufferable pain in your ass, but for being right. Because logically, there's no reason to keep this a secret—he's not your boyfriend, he's just your roommate who happens to fuck you sometimes. It's not a big deal. It's not anything.

But something in you rebels at the thought of anyone knowing. Of having to explain yourself, to justify your choices. You've had enough of that to last a lifetime, enough of measuring every decision against someone else's expectations. Enough of being told what you should want, what you should do, who you should be.

This thing with Jungkook? It's yours. Messy and stupid and probably a horrible idea, but it's yours. The one thing in your life that nobody gets to have an opinion about, that nobody gets to control but you.

And maybe that's fucked up. Maybe normal people don't feel this desperate need to keep parts of themselves hidden, to maintain this iron grip on every aspect of their lives. Maybe they don't lie awake at night planning escape routes from their own decisions.

But you've never been very good at normal, have you?

You straighten, smooth your shirt, school your face into something neutral.

Then you open the door, step back into the living room, and pretend like your world isn’t tilting.

next | index

⋆｡°✩ taglist ✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe

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crimeronan · 22 hours ago

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my most irritating severance theory is that "gemma" was never real and that she's a carbon copy of dichen lachman's character in dollhouse, who was a tabula rasa woman living in a hole that could be programmed with different personalities to fuck rich clients. i'm like 99% sure this is what "exports" are -- it's lumen shipping pre-downloaded sexbots with custom human personalities out to people. and/or using those sexbots for the company's own manipulative agenda.

in keeping with this, the entire relationship and """death""" and subsequent soulshattering grief were all painstakingly manufactured by lumen to get mark scout to sever himself, because for some fucking reason, he's the only one who can complete project cold harbor, whatever the Fuck that is. (i have not been in any theory tags and do not have any ideas about what it is or why mark s is special. or even IF he's special.)

then once mark finds out that gemma isn't real, his feelings for and about her will vanish in an uncomplicated puff of smoke. he will become miraculously free to continue his deeply fucked-up """love triangle""" with the helltwins without needing to answer any complicated questions about, like, the self, and his emotions, and his commitments, and polyamory.

(the helltwins don't count as complicated relationship dynamics because they are the same person, aside from not being the same person, and they hate each other, and also most importantly, mark absolutely Does Not Want to fuck one of them. hurrah!)

this theory irritates the fuck out of me bc i really do think i'm right about gemma. and this "twist," as a way to avoid any interesting themes, would be the laziest, most boring thing they could Possibly do.

i am on my fucking Knees praying to god that they KNOW this is the laziest, most boring thing they could possibly do. Please, God, If You Love Me. Please. Please Don't .

...

HOWEVER.

i WILL accept the lumon-engineered-a-sexbot-relationship-to-coerce-mark-into-severance plot, IF and ONLY if:

gemma is a person.

not like, gemma is a human being whose outie parents aren't actors. i mean, gemma is an artificial sexbot with a nonconsensually programmed personality, AND gemma is a fully sentient living breathing person. who wants her life back. who wants her AUTONOMY back. who is just now learning that she Literally Never Had Autonomy In The First Place.

we, as the audience, get to see her reckon with her identity. we're used to innies being the most oppressed class in the show, but gemma is something else entirely. even less than an innie. she is, legally and corporately, Nothing. she is an object built to serve lumon (and, upsettingly, mark!) without any sense of interiority or free will.

but here she is. having interiority and free will.

if the writers take the themes of personhood and "what is identity?" and "how do we define each other?" to their logical conclusion, by making gemma a non-person who Absolutely Fucking Is A Person....

and so we get to See Her be absolutely fucking MESSY and WRECKED and COMPLICATED, instead of always being the laughing dead wife or the gentle vapid servant....

if gemma Gets An Arc. if gemma makes Choices. if gemma has Motivations and Desires and Fuckups. if gemma gets to be centered in the narrative thematically, the same way the other innies are, if gemma gets to drive the story Herself instead of being the carrot on a stick for mark...

well. then the writers will have my heart. 5eva.

🙏🙏🙏

#LET DICHEN LACHMAN ACT SHE IS SO FUCKING GOOD AND I KNOOOOW YOU MUST HAVE CAST HER BECAUSE YOU KNOW THAT #COME THROUGH FOR ME!! LET MS CASEY OFF THE LEASH I WANT IT. I WANT IT SO BAD.#SEVERANCE WRITERS DO YOU HEAR ME. I FUCKING KNOW YOU ARE COMPETENT. LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME WE BOTH UNDERSTAND THIS STORY #i've been in the fairy market dream people horror slavery mines for YEARS. i fucking KNOW what is happening!!#i know this archetype i know this plot i know this trope!! i've read dreamer trilogy i've seen heroes 2006 i've seen dollhouse!!#I KNOOOOW YOU WANT TO MAKE HER INTERESTING!! JUSTICE FOR THE SQUANDERED POTENTIAL IN DOLLHOUSE #hi guys. i have to rewatch all of severance from the beginning knowinf what i know.#show that is In My Brain.#in other news. i want to see companion really really Really bad. can you tell. lmao #severance #severance spoilers #severance theories #gemma severance #severance meta #i guess????#long post #now im gonna try to sleep.

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runawaycarouselhorse · 2 days ago

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I live in Saudi Arabia and I currently work as a doctor in a very conservative/extremist rural area surrounded with bedouins who are almost all of the same tribe, this is nepotism central, so even the security officers don't properly keep people from getting into the hospital because they're all related and they're too ~embarrassed~ to stop people, of course, I'm not okay!!!! And law enforcement won't do anything, I had bigger issues [like, uh, the time I wound up staying in a scammy condemned building chalet without a key (?!?!)] to attend a conference.

Sorry for the rant in the tags, I've been stuck here for now going on three years.

Also, to illustrate how bad it really is here, I have had ELDERLY WOMEN go all hush-hush and not want me to vocalize to the pharmacist that they have urinary tract infections (even though they are old women with multiple comorbidities--most of our elders have hypertension, diabetes, or both--it OUGHT to be a well-known fact that chronic conditions like diabetes lower your immunity and increase your risk of getting urinary tract infections and any infections at all from opportunistic pathogens like candida which do not typically affect healthy individuals) because they KNOW someone could overhear and gossip about them.

Elderly women. Of very advanced age.

I have also had a male coworker go quiet when he heard those two laughing girls, after asking if they're coworkers of ours. I have no idea, but he's scared of them too.

Everyone here lives in FEAR OF GOSSIP.

How anyone idealizes living in small towns where everyone knows each other and gossip spreads like wildfire, I don't know... I just don't know...

Is it a universal Autism experience to say something and then the people around you laugh and you ask "What's so funny?" and they say "Nothing" because NTs like to play a game with us called Guess What You Said That Made Me Laugh

#bullying #ostracization #all that jazz #I wanna go back to my more educated eastern province even the hospital staff who've been there pity me and know I won't adjust to this plac #long post #negative *#caps *

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st4ytiny · 10 hours ago

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Using your distress as foreplay (UYDAF)

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Kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend if you don't mind Feat. Jisung

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:51 / 3:24

Release date : ???

Teaser : But baby, I like flirting, a lover by my side. Can't be a good good girl even if i tried. Cause after midnight, i'm feeling kinda freaky, maybe it's the moonlight?

Tracklist : problematic relationships, slight size difference, reader is older than Han, jealousy, cheating (reader cheating on her boyfriend with Jisung),

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Its hot when you're going through hell Feat. Changbin

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:44 / 3:33

Release date : ???

Teaser : Ruined my credit, stole my cute aesthetic. Who knew we'd let it get this bad when it ended? If karma's real, hope it's your turn. I heard from Katie, you're loosing it lately.

Tracklist : desperation, smashing things, ruining a relationship, crying, problematic relationships, Make-up-sex, smudged makeup, crash out

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I leave a mark so you know I'm the best Feat. Bahng Chan

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:13 / 2:49

Release date : ???

Teaser : Young lust, last long. When we drive in your car, I'm your baby. Loosing all my innocence in the back seat. Say you love me. Break all the rules 'til we get caught, fog up the windows in the parking lot

Tracklist : cheating???, jealousy, cursing, reader being a fan, exes to lovers, switch Chan / switch reader,

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Want to pre-order this album ? Please comment <3

Hi !! This is my first one-shot series I've ever done, I hope it scratches your brain all the ways it scratched mine <3

I also acknowledge that Chappell Roan's music is primarily WLW, I've listened to her music while writing and gotten ideas from her lyrics.

I appreaciate reblogs (with and without tags), likes and comments <3

Pleaseee stay tuned! I have started the first drafts already :)

This series is pretty problematic. sorry not sorry

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cotardspringtrap · 18 hours ago

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hey! This is a fnaf blog but i feel like i need to say this since I'm seeing it pop up SO much.

Dear Poppy Playtime Fandom, especially new folks. It is NOT wrong to be in love with, attracted to, or ship the mascots.

As a FNAF fan, most people ship, love and whatever else strictly with the mascots. They are NOT shipping ( or sexualizing ) children. Anyone who does that makes it so obvious its gross.

Poppy Playtime is the same way. If it REALLY makes you anxious, just tag it as "the mascot". Catnap the mascot, Kissy Missy the mascot, etc.

The only ones that are kids even in mascots it seems is toon and little Smiling and Nightmare Critters, and the Poppy doll. I don't know about say, boogie bot, candy cat, bron or bee cat.

But Huggy, Kissy, Mommy, Daddy, Ms Delight and Doey are adult mascots. Possibly the bigger body smiling critters also considering their voice boxes.

I have no idea about Boxy Boo, Yarnaby, PJ-pug-a-pilar or Pianosaurus. I do think Pianosaurus is an adult at least. I believe The Prototype is also up in the air but personally i believe its an adult.

I also want to say real quick on the other hand its TOTALLY okay to not like the shipping or any other thing. I don't always like shipping either.

I just don't want to see ANOTHER fandom be like "It has kids in there" when most people are just strictly talking about the mascot.

I hope this helps??

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #Poppy playtime #Ppt #Poppy playtime ch 4 #doey the doughman

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bananayuyu · 7 hours ago

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just friends (2) - back to the beginning

pairing: san x f reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 12.6k

summary: could you really call this a friendship anymore? what was it really, when you spent nights curled up in the sheets with him, days fighting till your blood ran cold? this was more than anything you'd had with anyone; but what it was, you didn't know. you'd fight to keep it alive, for it held you together; but how much more of this could San take before he breaks?

warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal sex, cream pie, oral, cum eating

a/n: i have become completely obsessed with these two. I've mapped out 10 parts for this series (help me), please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the rest <33 new parts won't be coming out on any certain schedule as I have many other writing projects I'm working on, but I will for sure finish his series within the year. I'm too obsessed not to. also the argument at the end of this part is pretty nasty so please proceed with caution <3

<- previous part | next part -> | series masterlist | read it on ao3

One Year Ago

"Titi, it's 4:15, get your ass up!" you called from her desk, squinting at your eyes in the mirror as you put the finishing touches on your dark, heavy face of makeup.

"I know, sorry," she grumbled from her bed, slowly pushing off her comforter. "Winter makes me so sleepy," she yawned, stretching as long as she couch reach, her feet falling off the side of her mattress.

"You just love being late, I think," you joked, slapping closed the lid of your highlighter, putting the brush you used back into the drawer it came from.

"You'd think I do, with how often I am," she laughed, another yawn escaping her lips, her palms rubbing circles over her eyes.

"I'm leaving without you if you're running late, just so you know," you responded, stepping up off her desk chair and over to your trusty bag, double checking you had your costume for tonight, your phone, your keys, wallet, and makeup bag.

"I'm coming, just give me a second," she muttered, pushing herself up dramatically, a deep sigh wracking through her. "I didn't get to sleep till like ten in the morning."

"What were y'all doing?" you asked, chuckling, zipping closed your bag with a satisfying sound, everything packed just right for the day ahead.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she laughed, waggling her eyebrows at you.

"You're a couple of fucking rabbits, you two," you shot back, staring at the disheveled state of your best friend. She tipped her head back, laughing hard, that bright full smile showing across her beautiful face. She'd been smiling a lot like that lately, ever since her and her girlfriend had made things official, ever since they'd decided to move in together.

"I'm sorry, I won't talk about it so much if it's annoying," she said, finally standing herself up and shlepping off her pajamas.

"Don't stop, it's very adorable," you responded. "Why would it be annoying?"

"Just cause, you know, your last situation was such a disappointment. I don't want it to feel like I'm rubbing it in," she said, grabbing for a pair of black leggings and pink sweater in the pile of clothes on the floor.

"My last, what, three situations, actually?" you said, trying to remember each of the ridiculous members of the cast of dates you'd been on last year.

"Dating sucks," she said, pulling her leggings on, stumbling a bit.

"Not for you, it doesn't," you responded, crossing your arms.

"Well, not now, but it did for my whole life up until this point," she said.

"Ah, turned twenty-two and now you have it figured out?" you joked, rolling your eyes.

"Hey, don't get snippy with me missy," she pouted, pulling the sweater over her head.

"Sorry, you know I just like arguing for no reason," you sighed, chuckling a bit.

"I need to find you someone who likes it just as much as you do," she joked back, grabbing her phone off it's charger.

"But who's not actually an asshole?" you said.

"Yeah, exactly," she laughed, shooting off a quick text. "Shit, 4:20," she said, stuffing her phone into her own huge bag, not bothering to check it's contents like you just did.

"Okay, we're going now," you said, walking out into her living room, heading straight for the front door.

"Wait, just let me make a cup of coffee!" she called to you, stumbling behind.

"They have coffee where we work, you know," you remarked, looking back at her over your shoulder.

"Oh my god, you love saying shit like that," she rolled her eyes, following close behind you.

"I'm not wrong," you said as you opened the front door, stepping out into the hall.

"I just wanted my pretty mug," she sighed, stepping out after you.

"Then go grab it," you said, holding the door open.

"I can do that? Make coffee into a mug I've brought in?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," you responded, shrugging your shoulders.

"Okay, if I get in trouble I'm blaming you," she said, running back in to grab her favorite mug from the cabinet above the sink.

"Fine, fine," you shook your head, closing the door once she'd come out again.

As soon as you exited the building you realized you'd worn too much; it might be January still, but it was hardly cold at all, this dense desert city holding all the heat the rest of the world must be craving.

"Can we slow down?" Tina asked from beside you, your shoulders bumping as you stepped around a huge group standing on the sidewalk outside of an Italian restaurant, chatter filling the air.

"I don't wanna be late," you answered, keeping your pace as it was.

"Dude, you're so wound up," she said, snaking her hand through your upper arm, genuinely worried you'll start sprinting off if she didn't ground you somehow.

"Sorry, I know," you said, linking your arm around her's. "I'm good, I swear. Just stressed about my manuscript submission," you said, flashing her a wary smile.

"They said they'd get back to you by next week, right?" she asked, gently pulling on you to help you avoid a dark spot of something sticky on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, next week," you sighed, letting out a disgruntled noise.

"Okay, so, you just gotta wait. You did all that work last year finishing that play, you should let yourself have some fun for a few weeks. We should all go out after work today, we haven't done that in forever," she said, the two of you snaking around a line of people standing outside the old movie theater that sat just a block from your place of work.

"Doesn't Maya work Sunday mornings?" you asked, pulling up at the corner to wait for the light to change.

"Usually, but not this week. She's on a later shift today so they gave her tomorrow off," she answered you, eyes darting around at the cacophony of sounds streaming through the streets from every direction.

"Oh, that's nice," you said, and Tina started laughing, squeezing onto your arm. "Shit sorry, did that sound sarcastic?"

"It's so funny when your tone goes all flat like that," she said beside you, a genuine smile on her face. "Seriously though, there probably won't be a Saturday night where she can come out with us for a very long time. We should do it. Maybe we can even convince Sasha and Bibi to come too."

"I'll think about it," you said as the light changed, the two of you stepping down onto the asphalt in front of you. A car honked loudly from your left, wanting to turn down the street you were walking across, and you both shot the driver identical looks of confusion over your shoulders. Only another minute and you were pushing through the side door of the bar, stepping right into the back of the kitchen and waving hi to the cooks on the line. The hallway to the dressing room was already uncomfortably hot; your light layers were far too much now, so you stripped them off quickly, shoving everything into your locker and checking your phone. You weren't late, after all. Thankfully, because you were on early tonight, second in the program, and you only had time to change into your costume and warm up a bit before Ilya was calling your name and pushing you down to the left wing of the stage.

It was a fairly normal night, by all accounts. You'd been working at the bar for nearly two years by then, one of the longer standing performers. There was high turnover in the staff, as was typical in a bar, but especially amongst the performers, who'd often find sudden success in movies or TV, or decide that pursuing this was just not for them anymore. Ages varied wildly; your boss Julie was not one to obsess over youth, or any other conventional markers of beauty. All she cared about was talent; she wanted to create the most interesting, jaw dropping, entertaining show this whole city had to offer, and there was no doubt she had succeeded. Every kind of person could be found working here; sometimes servers would take on a performing shift or two, and sometimes the opposite. It wasn't rare for you to be asked to take drinks to a certain table, your costume still on, sometimes staying in character as you placed them down in front of wonder-filled eyes. You all were expected to help each other out; once or twice you'd even been requested in the kitchen or behind the bar, when there'd been one too many sudden call outs.

It was a classy establishment. Doors opened at 4:30, the show promptly starting at 5pm; it ended at midnight sharp, the bar closing only half an hour later. It was the earliest place to close on the block, only open four days a week, Wednesday night through Saturday night. It was a place people went to pregame, to start their evening with a bang, or a place people went to see a great show before heading back home at a reasonable hour. There was a drinks limit; you all could deny a customer another if they were acting unruly, your security team inconspicuous under the dark shadowy light inside, but always watching. The food served was regular bar fare: tacos, wings, pizza, burgers, but it was high quality, so good that some people came frequently just for their favorite menu item. The place was known for its drinks, too, having hoards of non alcohol options that put every other bar's mocktail lists to shame. It was known for its organized and sparkly atmosphere, known as a reliable place to have a good ass night. The patronage was a mixed bag, but the place wasn't cheap; it tended to skew a bit older, a bit more mature. You didn't hate that; it meant the behavior was generally predictable, even if you didn't exactly fit in amongst the crowd cheering you on.

Halfway through the night you plopped down on your stool in the dressing room, scrubbing free the bits of eyeliner that had smudged below your eye during your first two solo performances of the night.

"Hey girl, sorry to bug, do you have any lashes I could borrow?" Sasha came running in, a slightly panicked look on her face.

"I should, let me see what I have," you said, setting your makeup wipe on your bare thigh and zipping open your bag.

"I'm so sorry to ask, but I literally don't have any with me," she sighed, coming to sit beside you. "My right one fell off on stage and I couldn't find it for the life of me. I was trying to look for it without making it obvious," she said, a nervy chuckle escaping her.

"No worries, here, look through there. Take whatever you need," you said, handing her the small box you kept your old and new lashes in.

"Oh darling, you're a lifesaver," she sighed, snapping it open and rifling through, finding the size she needed. She still had some of that newbie air about her, not six weeks into working with you. But already she had established herself as irreplaceable; by then she emceed almost every night she worked, and thank god for that, as none of the rest of you had any talent or desire for it. Julie tended to do it, if no one else was available, but having a beautiful drag queen host the evening, one who also performed in the show, was a much better choice in every way.

"A group of businessmen just walked in and took table four, I'm hoping one of them is interesting in all this," she said, leaning forward to place the replacement lash on her right eyelid.

"I'm sure one will be, Sash, you're fucking gorgeous," you said, wiping the last of the smudged makeup from your face and giggling.

"Oh sweetheart, you flatter me," she drawled, looking over her face in the mirror. "Do you think those straight-" she lifted her hands, making air quotes, "men can tell I'm not a woman in all the typical ways?"

"Girl, I wasn't even sure the first time I saw you. Your makeup skills are unmatched," you said, chuckling at her.

"Oh stop it," she joked, shaking her head at you. "I hope my hosting skills are half as good," she sighed, finally placing the lash on her eye just right and batting her hand in front of her face in a desperate attempt to get the glue to dry quickly.

"Sasha, are you kidding? You put the rest of us to shame. You should have seen me the one night Julie made my try it out," you laughed, tossing your used makeup wipe in the waste basket beside you.

"I'm sure it was just fine, you little genius," she responded, blinking her eye open and closed a few times. "Sorry to cut this short, but I should probably get out there again."

"Go get 'em, girl," you responded, shooting a playful wink her way.

"Thank you again, darling," she said as she walked past, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You squeezed it briefly; "of course," you said. Then her heels were clacking past you, and soon the room filled with noise as nearly every performer on your cast came in to start their makeup, all of you preparing for the big group number of the evening.

You'd discovered the song, randomly, a few months back. The title, Kalyna, and the album art had intrigued you; after your first listen you were imaging the choreography immediately, turning on your phone to record the sudden ideas flooding your brain. You'd never choreographed a number for the bar, but you knew Julie would be open to it if you pitched it correctly. Three weeks later and you were teaching your coworkers the choreography, chaotic short lessons between everyone's normal performances, all of them picking it up lightning quick. It was an instant hit with your audiences, the night it debuted, and had been kept in the rotation longer than most of the other numbers ever were.

That night the air was buzzing in the dressing room; everyone looked sharp and stunning in their body suits, hair slicked back and pulled tight into buns. The makeup was angular; this number was meant to evoke a bit of tension, maybe even some fear in the audience. But it also showed the strength of the team, the strength of community, and the physical strength of each of you. It was your absolute favorite number that winter; you looked forward to it every night you worked, proud to know you'd created something that stuck so fondly in the minds of the people who watched.

As you hit the stage, you saw immediately what Sasha had just mentioned. Table four, which sat just off the right side of the stage, was cramped full of men in suits, every single one sharp and fitted and so obviously expensive. There was every type of man you could imagine at the table; you spotted immediately the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, Sasha's dream come to life. And when she led the first eight counts towards the front of the stage, you saw his eyes take in everything, her long legs, her face, her deep rich eyes he seemed lost in. You nearly broke character; so rare was is that people in here flirted with the performers, oddly enough, and normally you were very thankful for that. It was all a part of the classy environment your boss had curated, and it meant you felt safe. But you couldn't deny how giddy it made you to see this playing out in front of you, mere feet from where you danced.

You danced the rest of the number focused, determined not to drop your professionalism for too long, the crowd erupting in cheer as you all finished. Clasping hands down the line, you took one giant bow, spinning and running off stage as the number ended.

"Lina needs help y'all!" Ilya called as you ran through the wings, and immediately you headed down the short hallway to the back of the bar, bursting through to find her. Stacked along the bar were multiple trays of drinks; a line was forming, and your head bartender looked the tiniest bit stressed. Sweat dripped form her brow, and she wiped it away quickly with her hand, punching something into the computer before whipping around to take another order.

"Oh, good, please take those out!" she said when she saw you and Tina, pointing to the trays of drinks in front of you. "The beers are for table four, the cocktails table seven!"

In an instant you grabbed the tray in front of you, sliding past Tina as carefully and quickly as possible. This was sometimes your favorite moments of the evening, when in the adrenaline of post-performance you had to run out drinks to an excited table, who'd marvel over your performance and ask you every question they could think of. As you started weaving through the room, several iterations of 'great job!' and 'amazing, just amazing!' were thrown your way, making your smile so wide it nearly stretched off your face. You barely payed attention to the drinks in your hand, only to make sure they didn't spill, as you nodded in thanks to the compliments, smiling at the half-lit faces around you.

It wasn't until you stopped, stood close to the wall to let another server past, that you realized which tray you'd grabbed. Both table four and seven sat on the far side of the room opposite the bar, and in the chaos of the moment you'd just headed this way, not bothering to actually take note. Now, you did; eight beers sat on the tray balanced on your hand, all identical dark ales. You shot a look to your side at Tina's tray, littered with pink and blue and clear cocktails, fun decorations sticking out the top of them all. Your's was meant for table four, for those businessmen Sasha had spotted, the one's you'd just performed mere feet from.

It shouldn't have worried you, but you couldn't help remembering it now. The only time you'd felt uncomfortable at work had been when serving a giant table full of just men, when one of them had said things severely over the line with you, just to make his friends laugh. It'd only ever happened that once, but the feeling was humiliating enough to have stuck with you, your mind whirring a bit as you made you way towards the crowded table. You decided you'd set the tray down by the man eyeing Sasha; maybe you could subtly hint at her interest, though you had no idea what you'd say. But as soon as you entered their proximity and reached between two of them to set down the tray, a man across the table spoke to you.

"I love that song!" he said, and you looked up to find a sweet, bright smile and deep dimples staring back at you.

"Oh, thank you!" you replied, giving him a genuine smile back, your mind immediately put at ease. You started placing the beers around, one in front of each man, careful to avoid the plates of food already littering the table.

"Do you know the significance of the Kalyna plant in Ukraine?" the same man asked, and your head snapped to him, eyes slightly wide.

"Yeah, that's why I chose to make that number," you said before you could think, so shocked that someone here knew anything about the song you'd spent long hours researching months ago.

"You choreographed that?" he asked, his eyes going wide a bit too.

"Oh, yeah," you said, slightly embarrassed that you'd just openly admitted that. It wasn't something you tended to do, when making light chatter with customers. You grabbed the last beer, which was for him, and made your way around the table to set it down in front of him. "It's just such a great song, easy to choreograph to," you added, trying to make yourself sound less conceited, less interested in talking about yourself.

"It is great, haven't heard it in years," he responded, taking the beer from your hand as you moved to set it down.

"You've heard it before?" you asked, genuine shock in your tone. The band was not one very popular here; not a single person you knew had heard of them, and no one in the months you'd been performing it had mentioned knowing anything about the song.

"Yeah, my freshman roommate in college was from Ukraine and he played a lot of their music. He's a drag queen, I would go to his shows a lot. He actually did a routine to that song, too, for a while," he responded, turning in his seat a bit to better face you. By this point the rest of the table had fallen into another conversation; it seemed none of the rest of them had heard of the song before, or cared to learn much about it. Kind of made them seem like shitty friends, to you. But you were thankful for it, because all of the sudden it felt like you and this gorgeous man were all alone, your back against the west wall of the seating area, Sasha's voice booming through the speakers around you.

"Next time he's visiting I'll be sure to take him here, he'd love it," he added, taking a swig of his beer.

"Well we might not be performing that number anymore, depending on when he's coming. Our numbers are put on a rotation, and this one's overstayed it's welcome already. Though it's still quite popular, we might be able to perform it a while longer," you said, words coming easily, the normal walls you kept high when talking to customers nowhere to be found.

"That's too bad, I hope you get to keep it for a while. It's fucking great, you're a real genius," he said, looking up at you again with those perfect dimples.

"Thanks," you said, blushing, the smirk he was sending your way bringing sudden heat to your face. You'd had time now to take him in; his hair was black, short at the sides and longer on top, his suit black to match it. His skin was honey, smooth as can be, and his face was pure perfection, pouty lips and a perfect nose, a strong jaw, strong eyebrows. He was very masculine, but very pretty too, so stunning you couldn't believe your eyes. And his wire framed glasses held his look together perfectly; he looked sharp, smart, and confident. He looked the way you were pretty sure every man wished he looked in a suit.

"I don't usually say stuff like this, but, when are you free tonight? We're all headed to a huge party up in the East Heights after this, if you'd like to come. There's gonna be an open bar, a pool, it's supposed to be pretty crazy," he said, taking another quick sip of his beer, his face pure and calm as he said it.

'I don't usually say stuff like this' my ass, you thought. The words had flown off his tongue too easily for that to be believable. But it was working on you, his confidence. You'd experienced too many instances of vague flirting, of indirectness, of shaky voices and shakier hands. You'd dreamt of a moment like this, when someone saw you and liked what they saw, liked it enough to ask you out then and there with no hesitation.

"Uh, I get off at 12:30, when the bar closes," you answered him, words falling out of your mouth without intention. "I- uh- I'll need to think about it though. I wouldn't be comfortable coming by myself, would I be able to bring some friends?"

"Yeah, bring whoever you'd like. It's a big event, a few extra bodies should be no big deal," he responded, smirk turning to a full on smile. His teeth were perfect, god he was perfect, and you got lost in his face for a few seconds, resting your hip against the wall behind you, your lower lip grasped between your teeth.

"I'm San, by the way," he said, reaching out his free hand in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, I'm y/n," you replied, placing your hand in his. His handshake was strong, hand warm around yours, your fingers nearly disappearing in his palm.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, holding onto your hand for a second longer than needed, gently releasing it and looking you straight in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," you said awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. "I should probably get back to work, it was nice chatting with you," you said, finally walking around the table to grab the tray and bring it back to the bar.

"We'll be here till closing, so just let me know then if you'd like to come," he said, nodding in your direction as you started to turn.

"Okay, thanks," you said, smiling over your shoulder, before walking off hurriedly between tables, suddenly worried sick that you'd be in trouble for talking to him for too long.

"Titi, you still wanna go out tonight?" you asked as you rushed back into the locker room, two slices of sweet bread you stole from the kitchen in your hands.

"Yeah, you actually wanna?" she said excitedly, reaching forward to grab one of them from you.

"I just got invited to a party in the Easy Heights," you said, a bewildered look gracing your features.

"Hello? What?" she responded, her mouth open in a comical O.

"I don't even know, but yeah, apparently some big party is happening at a house up there? He said it will have an open bar and pool?" you said, shaking your head in disbelief at the words coming out of you.

"Who said this?" she asked, mouth full as she chowed down.

"He said his name is San, he's in that group at table four," you responded.

"Oh my god, Sasha was just telling me she was making eyes at one of those men," Tina laughed, a hand coming to your shoulder.

"Yeah, I saw that while we were performing Kalyna," you said, giggling too.

"You sure you wanna go to an East Heights party? There's definitely gonna be like coke and shit, probably worse. It might be crazy," she said, head tilting to the side.

"If it's awful we can just leave, but I kinda feel like going. I doubt we'll ever be invited to one of those again," you laughed, giving her an assured smile. "I kind of want to see what tomfoolery those rich assholes get up to."

"So this isn't about hanging out with that man?" she asked.

"He seems cool, but I think he might be gay," you said to her, crossing your arms.

"Um, why?"

"He said his roommate in college was a drag queen, and that he went to his shows a lot. And he talked to me way too confidently to be into me. If he's not gay, then he's definitely not interested," you said, shrugging.

"Babe, he invited you to a party with him, barely knowing you. He definitely finds you attractive," she said, giving you that look she does when she thinks you're being just a bit dumb.

"Okay, but, well-" you cut yourself off, holding your hands out in a gesture of pity. You were dumb when it came to this relationship stuff, downright stupid. You knew that, as frustrating as it was. You wanted to be confident in your suspicion he was into you, but you'd been wrong enough times when you were younger about this sort of thing to assume it now. You'd been made fun of countlessly in high school, person after person laughing at the mere thought that they'd be into you. You were always baffled; you'd been told by some other person that this person had a crush on you, and were only asking them about it because of that information. They were pranks, and it took you embarrassingly long to figure that out. You understood that now, you recognized it had just been childish bullying; but still, even years later, you doubted any instance of even a suggestion that someone found you attractive.

You were different back then; you'd changed so much in the few years you'd lived away from home. But still, you doubted yourself. Maybe you had a complex about being undesirable, but who didn't? And frankly, when you looked around the world, it seemed like more of the "ugly" people had partners than not. It must be more about personality, you reasoned, which made your undesirability all the more painful. A silly, sick side of you began to feel attached to being single, began to feel better than other people for it, even your ride or die perfect friend standing in front of you. You didn't need romantic love like everyone else did, you decided; you had your art to give you passion, your friends to give you companionship. And you could physically satisfy yourself just fine. It was all projection; it was how you coped. How else could you deal with the pain of never being loved, lusted after, wanted the way all of your friends had since puberty?

But even as attached to your single identity as you were, you'd perused the apps last year, a tiny buried part of you wishing and hoping that there was someone out there for you, perfect in every way. It had been a bust, as expected. You felt like a fool for even trying. You had hoped that it would give you at least a little self-esteem, even if no relationship came of it. But it had only driven that painful truth of your undesirable personality deeper into your heart, cracking it further.

"I don't even want a relationship right now, Ti, I've said that for like the past three months," you said, pulling your hands back to your chest. You felt your heart thumping there, trying desperately to come alive despite the year of terror you'd put it through.

"It doesn't have to be a relationship, you could just hook up with him, you know, have a little fun," she answered you, grabbing your hands in hers. "Let's go, let's have some fun. Just relax, spend the evening enjoying ourselves." You hadn't seen her so excited all winter; her moods were severely affected by this season, and it always felt like a part of her left you for the cold months. It made a complex mix of sadness and excitement swirl through you, staring back at her perfect face. There was no way you'd be saying no to her now, despite anything.

"Okay, fine," you sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

It took little convincing for Sasha and Bibi to join you, and soon the four of you plus Maya were standing on the sidewalk outside, stuck like a barnacle to the side of San's huge group. You were all waiting on two limos, according to him; when he's said this the five of you looked between yourselves with huge wide eyes, grabbing each other's arms and trying desperately not to laugh.

"You realize none of us have ever been to the East Heights, right?" you said to him, the soft arm of his suit jacket brushing up against the exposed skin of your own upper arm.

"That's fine, I've only been once. It's nothing that crazy, the houses are just big," he said, looking down at you, his shoulders intimidatingly broad now that he was standing beside you.

"I thought you said this party is gonna be crazy though," you replied, squinting your eyes playfully.

"Well, it's possible. I don't really know," he responded.

"So you just said that to say it earlier?" you questioned him, head cocked to the side.

"I was trying to make my offer sound enticing," he replied, looking you up and down, that smirk back on his face.

"So you lied to me?" you shot back.

"Hey, like I said, I don't know much about this thing, it could very well be crazy," he responded, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Wow, what have I gotten us into," you said, turning to the group, all of whom were suppressing their laughter at the interaction unfolding in front of them.

"The best night of your life," he answered, nudging your shoulder in a way that almost could have been accidental, making your eyes snap back to his again.

"I hope that wasn't a lie," you said, eyeing him sharply.

"I'll make sure of it," he shot back, one eyebrow raised slightly.

A titter sounded behind you, Tina unable to keep her composure at the ridiculous bickering unfurling between you. Your eyes were locked on each other, faces closer than either of you realized. It was so damn obvious to all of your friends, then, what was about to happen. The two of you couldn't hide it for a second, how affect you were. You were still locked in eye contact when the first limo pulled up, the rest of San's group filing in, waving him goodbye.

"You can go with your friends if you'd like," you said as he closed the door, stepping back.

"Oh they're not really my friends, just guys I know through work. This whole thing tonight is a networking opportunity, what fun," he joked sarcastically, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Oh wow," you said, eyes glued to the limo as it pulled away. "People network at one in the morning?"

"Us tech bros do I guess, we just love it," he said, laughing sarcastically again. "I don't really like this stuff, but my manager is making me go. He gave me Monday off, so, I can't really complain."

"Wow, you have like a normal job," you said, laughing.

"And you don't?" he asked.

"I just mean, you work Monday to Friday, 9 to 5, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I literally don't know a single other person who does. My mom is a doula, and my twin sister is a nurse, and my dad has early-onset Parkinson's so he's been on disability almost my whole life. And the rest of my friends work here, or work at other bars or restaurants around here. Even my best friend from high school works in a library at her university, but she works weekends and nights."

It all came stumbling out of you so fast, your hand shot up to your mouth.

"Sorry, that was crazy. Just forget all that shit about my dad..." you trailed off, eyes wide with worry as they met his.

"What shit about your dad?" he answered, and your expression immediately changed to one of relief, one of laughter. Just then the second limo pulled up to the curb, and the five of you excitedly gathered by the door, San opening it for you.

"Ladies," he said, bowing his head slightly and beckoning you all to step inside.

"None of us have ever been in a limo either," you told him, chuckling as your friends excitedly squealed while carefully entering the sleek black car.

"Uh, I have, speak for yourself miss thing," Bibi said as she crouched down, shooting you a look over her shoulder.

"Well damn, I guess one of us has," you said to San as you finally stepped inside, his body following quickly after you, rich laughter ringing in your ear.

San, it turned out, was most definitely not gay. Which of course, deep down, you'd already known. You'd known it from the moment he asked you to go to that party with him, from the moment he smirked and your body sizzled under his glare. But he was so different from anyone you'd dated before; too kind, too upfront, too knowledgeable about musicals and theater and all the things you loved so very much. It almost pained you to find out he'd been studying theater in college before switching to computer science. That was why he'd been paired with his freshman roommate; at the time, they'd had the same major. That roommate, Antin, became one of his best friends; the two bonded over coming from overseas, the pressure their parents put on them even thousands of miles away. It was so sweet, so charming, and in the two hours you spent at that raucous party, you learned what seemed like all there was to know about him.

He was too perfect; it was too easy to say yes when he'd asked if you wanted to see his apartment, too easy to bid your friends goodnight as your Uber pulled up in front of their places. You thought of nothing but the hunk beside you, about what he'd look like with that suit strewn on the ground. You tried not to jump his bones the second you were alone, but damn was it hard; as soon as you arrived he'd taken your purse, and placed it in the front closet of his apartment. His apartment was huge, his front closet bigger than the bathroom you shared with three other roommates; it was fancy too, well kept, stacks of books and DVDs in the living room, only two dirty dishes in the bottom of his kitchen sink.

It was all simply too good to be true, and in that moment nothing felt real. You were present, sure, but you felt like you'd been knocked into an alternative timeline, getting to live out the life of someone far better than you, who deserved all this.

"Aren't you hot in that suit?" you asked him, your loose minidress hanging free, your body unburdened with extra fabric. You always kept a few random clothes at work in case you needed to change suddenly, and even though it was the last day of January, this tiny dress had been a great option. Outside you'd thrown a large old flannel of your dad's over it, but at the party you'd tied it around your waist, the mass of bodies creating more heat than you could bear.

"Yeah, I was sweating all night," he laughed, slowly and methodically pulling off his suit jacket, finally revealing the shape of his shoulders to you. Under his white button-up they bulged; you did all you could to stop yourself from just staring, especially as he loosened his tie and finally pulled from his head, setting it down on the small table just inside his front door.

"You can put your shoes in there, if you'd like. Oh and your shirt, here, let me hang it up," he said, reaching for the flannel still tied around your waist. His touch was electric as soon as his hands made contact; even through the material of your dress you felt the spark, your body shivering. It only lasted a second, his nature too respectful to make anything more of a moment like that, especially after what you'd said at the party to him not twenty minutes ago. You wished you could have frozen time, wished every little detail of this night could be burned into your memory forever. It would be hard to believe then that you'd forget a lot of it in just a year, that somehow so much would happen that this one night would come to feel almost insignificant.

"Can I make you some hot cocoa, or tea, coffee?" he asked as he walked towards his kitchen, pouring you both glasses of water.

"Some herbal tea sounds nice, if you have any," you answered, and he opened his pantry to reveal a small collection. You picked out the lavender mix that sounded refreshing, placing the purple tea bag in a black mug he'd set down on the counter. As he set his tea kettle to boil, you hopped up on the counter beside him, bare feet swinging in air.

"So, you think that was the best night of my life?" you quipped, looking sideways at him as he set the kettle to temperature.

"Night's not over," he responded, eyebrows flicking up in amusement.

You were squirming under his gaze, your face now level with his. His shirt and pants fit him immaculately; you were so obviously ogling him, your thighs rubbing together as you did, your eyelids heavy with lust. He could feel it pouring off of you, but he kept replaying what you'd said, and kept trying to keep his composure, because he really wasn't that guy. He wasn't the guy who slept with the girl right away; he had known too many of those guys at college, seen too many of them back home too, when he visited his brother in the fall. He found the hookup culture he was surrounded by almost unnerving. He'd been raised with integrity, with respect; and being here in a new country had challenged his beliefs, for sure, but not when it came to sex or romance.

But you were determined. Your body had a mind of its own, and this whole night had felt surreal for hours now. Your own, already loose morals were thrown out the window, and you didn't give a fuck. You wanted him now, forget whatever the hell you'd said earlier; you didn't even remember it anymore, too filled with arousal to think straight.

You grabbed onto his arm closest to you, pulling him in.

"Hey, I thought you said-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling his face towards yours, leaning back slightly to arch into him. It was feverish as your lips met, mouths open, your legs already shaking as you wrapped them around his waist. It didn't take long for his hands to find your hips, your waist; he dug in, feeling the softness of you, softness he wanted to be wrapped in forever. He'd kept his composure the whole way here, not putting a hand on your thigh in the Uber, not a hand on your back as you walked through his front door. But now, it had left him; just five seconds of you in his grasp, and he knew he could never let go. His tongue swiped into your mouth, sucking hard on your lower lip, and without thinking he was reaching under your dress, feeling over the bare expanse of skin.

You hadn't worn a bra or panties tonight. He could tell about the bra, from the way your dress caught on your chest, but the panties were a surprise, making his head fuzzy as he reached down to your ass and found it bare for him. Your hands now were desperately grabbing at his over-shirt, trying in vain to undo each pesky button as you kept kissing him, your hands stumbling and failing over and over. Finally, he reached up and just ripped his shirt open, buttons popping and falling onto the floor in a soft rattle. He flung it off his arms, his tight under shirt leaving nothing anymore to your imagination. His abs rippled underneath it; you'd never seen abs like that in person before, weren't sure that they even existed. Especially not on a man who worked in tech, whose face was prettier than a porcelain doll's.

He came back to you, breathing hard; you grabbed at his abdomen, his shoulders, his chest, desperate to feel all of the perfection in front of you. You could smell the sweat on him now, musky and rich notes hitting your nose and making your body heat even more. He moved his mouth to your neck, your ear, making you whine and squirm with pleasure, sharp sparklers of energy running down the entirety of your body. You were pulling at him, desperately, forgetting any sense of where you were, or what you'd planned for tonight. As he licked a stripe up your collar bone you squealed loudly, the feeling ticklish and pleasurable all the same, and you jerked away from him momentarily, falling into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly there was a crash; the mug next to you was sent flying to the floor by your hip, and now it's pieces spread out across the grey tile, littering it in shards.

"Fuck, sorry," you gasped, your hands flying up to cover your open mouth. You were expecting maybe a light chuckle, maybe a shocked noise, for San to want to clean this up right away before you two got to whatever you were doing; instead he laughed deeply, his bright, wide smile back on his face, dimples staring you in the face for the probably thousandth time that night. He looked down to each side of his feet, sighing ever so slightly, before moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes thoughtful.

"Fuck it," he laughed with a shake of his head, grabbing you again, his hand on the back of your neck, soft lips wrapped around your own. You giggled into his mouth, so overcome by the chaotic set of events; but it only took a moment of his lips on yours again for you to melt, your legs around him, your breathing hot and heavy as he grabbed at your dress, pulling it up at the front to reveal your bare crotch to the room, running two of his fingers down your slit to see how wet you were.

"Fuck, San," you gasped, feeling how easily his slippery fingers moved, his movement unexpected.

"You want this, right?" he asked you, voice husky and deep. His eyes were boring into yours, and his look was dark and intense. It made you shiver to look back at him, and a part of you wanted to look away, to not feel the complex string of emotions tumbling through you. It almost felt like dread; dread laced with beauty, laced with desire and sweetness and everything addictive, and you just couldn't bring the rest of yourself to look away.

"Yes, please," you responded, pushing your hips down onto his hand, grinding onto his fingers. "Please fuck me, San."

You'd never said anything like this in your life; you'd only imagined it, or read it. As cheesy as it could feel on the page, in that moment it felt consumingly empowering, downright sexy. You pulled at his belt in front of you, your mouths meeting again, his teeth scraping over your upper lip as he nearly devoured you. Once again, you struggled with undoing his clothing; he moved his hands away from you to unclasp it himself, pulling it hard and tossing it to the ground when he had. Your hands were around his chin, holding his face to you as you messily kept kissing, his hands now working on the button and zipper of his jeans. In a matter of moments he'd pulled his hard cock out of his pants, and held it in his hand, hungrily eyeing your flushed cunt in front of him.

"Let me get a condom," he huffed, clearly having to work at pulling his eyes away from you.

"No, I have an implant," you said, pointing to your left arm. You saw his eyes twitch to side for a moment, like his brain was struggling to process what you'd just said. "It's fine, I can't get pregnant," you added, in case he didn't know what the hell you were trying to say. It took another few moments for him to accept it; but once he did he moved his cock closer to your aching entrance, and rubbed it along your slit where his fingers had been just seconds ago.

"Fuck," you sighed, head hitting his shoulder as he leaned into you, as he spread your wetness over his tip. Your closed eyes cloaked you in almost darkness, only the soft light in the kitchen illuminating the room, and all you could feel was your throbbing cunt and San's movements, already whimpering and moaning in his ear. He lined himself up carefully, pulling your hips to the very edge of the counter to give him room, and slowly sank halfway down.

"Oh my god," you squeaked, the stretch not at all what you expected. He was far bigger than any man you'd ever been with; it almost hurt, and you'd never experienced this before, so you had no idea if this was a hurt that would subside, or a hurt that would grow and fester. You clung to his shoulders for dear life as he slowly pulled out of you again, thrusting back in just slightly deeper, his movements slow and controlled.

"Ahhh, shit," you whined again, grip on his shoulders even tighter.

"I need you to relax for me," he said in your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending tremors of pleasure through you.

"I'm trying," you squeaked out, face stuck in his neck as you tried to breath slowly.

"Need me to stop?" he asked, stilling his movements completely, holding onto your lower back for support.

"No, please don't stop," you whispered, finally finding some control of your breath. "Just give me a second."

San obliged, kissing the top of your head as he ran a comforting hand down your back. You continued to breathe deep, continued to take in his scent, and in a few short moments you felt the walls of your cunt finally release a bit, allowing you to rock yourself against him without pain.

"Okay, I'm ready," you said, bracing yourself, and a moment later you felt him push himself in further, finally bottoming out. You both let out a guttural groan; it felt like you'd discovered new parts of yourselves in that moment, like your bodies were made for each other, made to pleasure each other just the way you needed.

"Fuck, y/n," San moaned your name, your walls tight around him as he pulled back again, thrusting short and soft at first. Hearing your name roll of his tongue made your chest swell; it was far to intense, all of these emotions you were having, for you to utter a thing. Soon he was thrusting faster, setting a steady pace as he held firm onto your hips, his mouth on your neck leaving bruising bites that you'd have to deal with tomorrow. You were breathing ragged, an eruption of feelings so perfect coming from your core that you couldn't quite believe it.

Then it happened; he picked you up by your hips, holding you dead in the air, still thrusting into you. If anything his thrusts were harder, deeper now; the position had given him space, and he used every bit of it, his thrusts becoming longer, harder, his cock nearly falling out of you when he pulled out. Your moans turned to screams; you were no longer aware at all of what sounds you were making, so overcome with the severe intensity of the feelings in your core.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you started babbling, breathing desperately, your hands again grasping at his shoulders.

"What?" he asked between grunts, a chuckle following.

"I didn't- fuck- think this was po-ossible," you stuttered, his thrusts not letting up, the feeling so intense it almost was zapping you back into the moment again, reversing the drifting that your mind had started to do. This felt real; felt too real, too intense. You swore you could feel every vein in his shaft, feel the exact shape of his head. Your orgasm was building, fast, and you'd never come just from penetration.

"Now you know, baby," he chuckled again, not letting up. Soon you were clenching hard, the rippling feelings of your climax building to their peak, your legs around his hips, squeezing him.

"Fuck, fuck," you screamed, biting down on the top of his shoulder, shaking hard.

"Did you come?" he asked, still thrusting hard, wanting you to ride it out as much as you could.

"Yes," you almost sobbed, drool dripping down onto his bare skin. "Slow down," you whined, and he did, gradually slowing his movements until he'd stopped, placing a quick kiss on your neck and making you squeal again.

After that, the night was a blur. He took you again, on the couch, and you came so many times you couldn't keep track. He was flipping you around, holding up your legs; he seemed to know every perfect angle to make your cunt feel even better, and you gladly accepted every movement from him. When he finally came he dropped down between your legs, eating you out as his cum dropped out of you, his face a flushed mess when he looked up to take a breath. You came again; finally, you begged him to stop. Your body was spent, you couldn't take anymore. When you looked at your phone it was nearly six in the morning, and when you ventured a look over to his kitchen window you recognized the first signs of winter dawn, the sky not as dark as it had been.

He made you stay put, cleaning you up in a fluffy towel, picking you up to carry you to his bedroom. He helped you out of your dress; then his own clothes came off entirely, and you ogled him all over again, as he scolded you and told you to get some much needed sleep. Wrapped around him your cunt seemed to stay permanently wet; you thought there was no way you'd fall asleep, but it was late, even for you. Soon you were both out cold, San's blackout curtains tricking your bodies. It wasn't until nearly three that afternoon that you woke.

"You stay, I'll go make us some food," San yawned, kissing your forehead, your face smushed in his chest.

"Are you sure?" you pouted, looking up at him. Even with his curtains open the sky outside was dark; what time it was now, you had no idea. After you awoke and showered, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. Another slew of hours had flown by, and your pussy was aching, begging you to give her a break. You couldn't help how fucking good it felt, though. You wanted it to never end. You were sure you could be satisfied with your life if all you ever did from now on was fuck him.

"Oh god, don't give me that look," he groaned, turning his head away. You laughed, tugging yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around his torso. "I thought you said you were hungry," he said, arms around you too.

"I am," you answered, snuggling into him.

"Well I can't make you food if you're laying on top of me," he responded, squeezing the tops of your thighs.

"I think you're definitely strong enough to carry me around," you said, giggling.

"Oh, is that what you want? You done with walking?" he joked, pinching your thigh.

"Ah, hey!" you squealed, jerking off of him, trying to reach for his ribs to tickle him in retaliation. But just then your stomach rumbled, so loud you both could hear.

"Come on, let me make food. What do you want?" he asked, sitting himself up.

"Do you have eggs?" you said, and he nodded. "Can you make just some toast and scrambled eggs?"

"Of course, anything else?" he responded, standing up off the bed. The naked form of him in front of you was so distracting, especially in the hazy light coming in from outside, the evening street lights shining in through San's huge window. You took a mental screenshot; no one else could ever look this good, you thought, in such low light. It accentuated every nook and cranny of his body; he was so perfectly built, every little part. It was hard not to stare at the curve of his ass as he threw on some sweats, or the muscles of his back as he stretched his arms.

"No, I just have that for breakfast every day. I like simple food," you said, yawning again and sitting yourself up.

"Me too," he smiled, looking back at you for a moment before exiting the room, clinks sounding from the kitchen as he started preparing.

It took you some time to finally get yourself up; your body was wracked with exhaustion, but you'd never felt better. You felt on a permanent high around him; you grabbed your crumpled dress from the floor and slipped it over yourself, finally walking out to the living room to check your phone, which was probably dead. As you came out you saw San on the floor cleaning, the remnants of that poor mug swept into a pile at the corner of his kitchen.

"Oh shit, let me help you with that," you said, making your way over, but San stopped you.

"No, don't walk over here, you'll cut your feet. I'll take care of it, it's no biggie." You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, but already this dynamic felt comfortable. If he really was fine with it, then you were fine letting him deal with the mess you'd made. You turned on your heel and walked over the couch, grabbing your phone off the coffee table, checking the time.

|6:14 pm|

You saw a slew of texts, but your battery was at ten percent, so you ran to your purse to grab your charging cable, plugging it in.

{Titi}

|3:43pm| how was your night bestie?? |5:58pm| please tell me you didn't get kidnapped |6:14pm| fuck sorry, I hadn't looked at my phone till now |6:14pm| I am alive and well

|6:15pm| oh thank god, we were worried |6:15pm| nothing to be worried about 😌 |6:16pm| so how'd it go?? |6:16pm| girl, we fucked for like three hours last night 😭 |6:16pm| HELLO |6:16pm| are you okay??? 😭 |6:17pm| Maya just said you're putting us lesbians to shame 💀 |6:17pm| 💀💀 |6:17pm| we fucked for like three hours this morning too |6:17pm| GIRL |6:17pm| RIP to your vagina |6:18pm| she's never been happier 😭

|6:18pm| this is so crazy |6:18pm| you home now? |6:18pm| I KNOW |6:18pm| no I'm still here, he's making some food for us

|6:18pm| wow |6:18pm| just wow, idk what else to say 😭 |6:19pm| girl same |6:19pm| you busy tomorrow? |6:19pm| no, why? |6:19pm| I'll bring over some dinner at seven, I have so much to tell you |6:19pm| I can't wait 💕

Present

It was nearly noon, when you woke. Slowly your consciousness came back to you; at first you only felt the warmth of the sheets beneath you, and you knew for sure you weren't in your bed, nor on your friend's couch like you'd planned. You were in the place you'd ended up so many times this month; maybe close to twenty of the nights of January you'd spent here. Thinking of it pulled at you. You knew this was a mistake, ending up here, knew something terrible would come of this. But you hadn't had the will this morning to stop it. You woke grumpy, worried, with the events of the morning spiraling through your head, especially Tina's flushed face of agony and the guttural sounds she made as she threw up.

You were worried, as much as she told you not to be. You'd never seen her like this in the five years you'd known her. As soon as your eyes melted open you were reaching for your phone on the night stand, finding it plugged in to San's charger, a glass of water there too.

You shot off a quick text to your group chat with Tina and Maya. How are y'all feeling? You didn't want to smother them with your worry, so you kept it as casual as you could, sipping at the water beside you and scrolling mindlessly through the other notifications littering your screen. There would be no convincing Tina to go get checked out; you had to accept it, had to welcome the fact that it'd be you and Maya keeping her well. She mistrusted doctors, on top of the unneeded expense, and you completely understood why; with the experiences she'd had, there would be no reason to give them a second chance. But she'd always had a stomach of steel; to see her so unwell was unnerving you, tremendously.

Finally you pushed yourself up; your stomach was rumbling, your head still aching with exhaustion, but the feeling was duller than this morning. The sleep you'd just woken from had been helpful, no doubt, but you wished you felt a little more normal today, instead of sleep deprived and emotionally unsteady. You had important work to do; you needed to head home fast, needed to not get distracted by San like you always did. You couldn't afford to spend the rest of the afternoon here eating and watching a musical, forcing him to recreate it with you. You had a musical of your own to edit.

"Hey," he said when you poked your head out of his room, walking gingerly over to him in the kitchen. He was preparing some lunch for himself; a block of tofu lay resting on the counter, as San chopped peppers and onions and broccoli. The smells of ginger and garlic already wafted from the pan, and San stood shirtless, in just grey sweat pants as he cooked, looking like someone out of any person's dreams.

"Hey," you responded, sighing. His body was alight with energy; he must have hit the gym while you were sleeping, which always left him feeling perky and bright. It was wafting off of him, this positive energy, and it couldn't have conflicted more with the heavy stress coursing through you. It was abundant in your tone; you'd gotten less and less good at hiding it from him, how you felt. Especially this last month.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked you, tossing the onions and peppers into his pan before stirring them with a spatula.

"I can make it," you mumbled, crossing past him to the refrigerator and grabbing the carton of eggs from the bottom shelf.

"Let me do it, I know you're exhausted," he said, coming over to you to grab the carton from your hands.

"No, I want to," you sighed, holding it to your side and out of his reach, a grumpy frown on your face.

"Okay, if you insist," he responded, palms up. Your terrible mood was worrying him deeply, but he was trying to convince himself that everything was fine, that this afternoon was in fact the time to finally do it. He'd been at the gym almost two hours, pumping himself up, doing every exercise he could think of to distract himself from the dread that was slowly filling him. It was like sand in an hour glass, falling slowly enough that he could forget it if he tried. Which he'd successfully done all morning, until your tired form appeared from his bedroom door.

You started preparing your food in silence, the sizzling of San's stir fry and clinking of dishes the only sounds in the room. You were thankful you'd be leaving him in a good mood; it was always hard to leave when he was sad, or grumpy, because every single part of you needed to make him feel better, needed a happy look on his face for you to feel okay. There was no doubt he was meal prepping for the week, given the amount of food he was making, and you sighed in hoping that the future days were on his mind now, instead of the past few.

"I realized something this morning," he said out of nowhere, tossing in his chopped tofu. Your eggs had just finished, so you turned off the burner, plopped them onto your plate, and grabbed your two slices of bread from the toaster, carefully spreading on the perfect amount of butter.

"What's that?" you asked, mind still elsewhere, running in circles and figure eights.

"We met exactly one year ago, today," he said, voice bright and breathy.

"Oh shit, really?" you asked, grabbing a fork from the cutlery drawer, then shoving a piece of toast in your mouth.

"Yeah, don't you remember?" he responded, voice lilting a bit. You mindlessly stuffed some eggs in your mouth, savoring the flavor of the local organic eggs that San always had in stock.

"Yeah, I just didn't realize it was that da-" you cut yourself off when you saw his face, his eyes glassy and jaw set. "Sannie, oh my god, don't cry. I'm not that special," you said, almost scoffing at the emotion coming off of him.

"Yes you are," he said, turning back to the pan on the stove, wiping something that must have been a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand.

"I'm really not," you responded, walking back towards his bedroom to find your phone again, which you'd accidentally left behind. Inside his room you could hear him speak from the kitchen, but you couldn't make out the words. You were distracted by the text you'd received from Maya, i'm doing even better, but Titi is still pretty bad. the Tylenol and everything has been so helpful though. and whatever those anti-nausea meds were, please thank San for me. she's able to keep down fluids now.

I'm glad to hear that. I hope she keeps getting better. She looked awful this morning, you responded, typing it out with your right thumb as your left hand balanced your plate of food.

"You gonna eat in here?" San asked from the doorway, and you snapped your head around to meet his gaze.

"No, sorry, just checking my phone. I had texted Maya asking how they were doing," you responded, mouth in a tight line.

"How's Tina?" he asked.

"Fine, it sounds like. Maya said to thank you for all the stuff you got them," you said.

"It's no biggie. I'm glad it's helping," he said, eyes blinking and face neutral. No biggie, the words made you want to roll your eyes. It was always 'no big deal' to him to do so much, and you'd started to realize that those words were total fucking bullshit. 'No biggie' was seemingly just a favorite English phrase of his, one that made him sound selfless and kind in the way he wanted to be. But you could see the flash of irritation in his eyes, you knew damn well that he was upset that you'd called this morning and made him feel obligated to come and help. He'd wanted your thanks for doing so, which you could recognize was fair. But he also should have said no, if he really didn't want to do it. You couldn't help the fact that he'd been lax with you since the start; one year now, as he'd just reminded you, of you pushing his boundaries and him relenting, and somehow he was still frustrated every time it happened. Like he somehow didn't realize this was just how things were.

You waited till he turned around to point your eyes to the ceiling, a long deep sigh matching the movements of your eyes. You just had to eat and get out of here, one simple task. Then you could be home and worrying about the work ahead of you, or you could be on the phone to Tina and checking on her. You couldn't wait for the relief of hearing her voice.

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" San asked as you walked out of his room, sitting yourself down on his couch to finish your food.

"I don't know, what did you say?" you asked, placing your phone face down next to you.

"I asked if you remembered what you said to me that night we met, right before we came here?" he said, his own bowl of food in hand as he sat down a few feet from you.

"I don't think I do," you responded, sighing as you took another huge bite.

"Really?" he asked you, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes really, San, was it something I should remember?" you asked.

"It's just kind of funny, given what happened next," he said, taking a bite of his stir fry. You gave him a confused look, head cocking to the side. "You said, 'sure I'll come to your apartment, but I'm not fucking you'," he said, chuckling.

"I did not," you scoffed, shaking your head at the thought of it.

"You did, I swear," he continued, eyeing you. "Kind of crazy considering that's exactly what you did for the next forty-eight hours."

"Oh my god, shut up," you rolled your eyes, grabbing the throw pillow to your right and smacking his arm with it. He laughed and batted it away, careful to protect his food as you swung it recklessly. "Also, you say that as if I'm the only one involved in that activity, you ass. That was very much a 'it takes two to tango' situation, Sannie."

San laughed hard in response to that, his dimples popping and his chest rising and falling with each chuckle. He was satisfied to have brought out some humor in you; he knew that was the way he could get you to calm down, to feel a little better and be ready for everything he was about to launch into.

"Do you know that you're the only one other than my mom that I let call me Sannie?" he said, voice softer.

"No I didn't- wait, why?" you asked, suddenly really thinking about what he'd said.

"Uh- you just, I..." he looked at you with a confusing expression, face a mixture of what looked like shock and anticipation.

"Sannie is a special nickname only your mom uses for you?" you asked, tone harsher than he'd hoped.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking at you.

"Then why do you let me call you that?" you asked, placing your finished plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, then leaning back and crossing your legs and arms.

"Cause you're special to me," he said, resting the side of his head on his palm, eyeing you deeply now.

"San- I- I thought that was what everyone called you, I thought it was just your nickname. I wouldn't have started calling you that if I'd known it was a you and your mom thing. I'm not trying to be some replacement for her, or something," you stuttered, hands gesturing in front of your face to emphasize your point.

"Of course you're not a replacement for here, god, you're just special to me, can't you understand-"

"San, why would I be the only one who gets to use the special nickname? You have closer friends, a brother, other family you're close to, I'm just a girl you sleep with sometimes. I'm not the love of your life, or something, we're not married with a baby on the way, and now that we're a family unit of our own you're letting me use this special name for you. We're just friends, why didn't you tell me!?" you snapped, cutting him off mid sentence without a care in the world.

"We're not just friends, y/n," he grumbled, face stony. "And I don't see what a big deal it is that I let you use that nickname. You're the one who started using it without even asking me," he shot back, face and body completely still.

"Fuck you," you muttered, standing up and grabbing your plate, walking over to the sink to clean it. "I know you think everything bad between us is my fault, and you probably somehow think that shit you pulled last night is my fault, too."

"I wanted to talk to you about that, I wanted to apologize-"

"Oh, you wanted to apologize for raping me?" you turned around, staring at him with wide, petulant eyes.

"Oh god, please don't use that word," he sighed, his food long abandoned as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"Why, cause it's honest?" you shot back, rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I did that baby, I know it was wrong, its was so wrong, I'm just, please know I'm so fucking sorry and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you..." he trailed off, mumbling, a deep sniffle cutting off his words. He was sobbing into his hands, his bare shoulders moving up and down as he heaved, trying with all his might to stop himself from completely breaking down. The sight of it immediately shot right through you; you started crying too, in an instant a huge deluge of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor below. It was so painful, whatever this feeling was; it was like the entire foundation of your body was cracking, like you were about to crumble in on yourself and die on the spot.

"Sannie, please, stop crying," you managed to say, haphazardly wiping the tears from your eyes. But they kept coming; they wouldn't stop until his stopped, you realized; there was something in you that was breaking with him, like your bereavement of him was a boomerang, swinging back and hitting you too.

"I can't, I'm sorry," he squeaked, and you'd never heard his voice like that, never seen him break down so severely.

"Sannie, please," you cried, and suddenly your feet were rushing over to him, and you wrapped your hands around his folded torso, your tears now falling onto the smooth plane of his back. "Please, when you cry I cry, and I don't wanna fucking cry right now."

It made him cry harder, hearing the desperation in your tone; he tried with all his might to calm himself, to take some deep breaths. But he didn't have the strength; the exhaustion from this past month was really catching up with him, and that high he was riding from the gym this morning was long gone. There was nothing he could do now to stop this; he never cried like this, he was sure the last time was more than a decade ago. He had no idea how to put an end to it.

"I'm sorry I used that word, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you chocked out, breathing through your tears as best as you could, holding onto him for dear life. There were no words on his tongue; he couldn't think of anything now, couldn't remember a single thing he'd planned to say to you, the conversation he'd worked himself up to all morning. Instead he was left with this terrible hollow hole in his chest; one you had created, one you filled, on that he feared more than anything. Your tears were the worst thing for him; the gash you'd carved only grew, deepens, getting closer to the exact shape of you, and all he could do was sit himself up and grab you, wrapping you around him and holding you tight.

"You're not just my friend," he said, voice thin and weak with tears. "And right now I fucking hate you."

next part ->

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