#i have a new skirt on the way (very exciting; love a skirt that fits me)

[wickerfemme]

Think about it: I'd look soooo cute if I got much fatter

[sturnskiss]

imgonnagetyouback ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: matt sturniolo x popstar! reader

word count: 2.1k (holy shit)

summary: you are a world renowned popstar, and after a very public breakup with youtuber matt sturniolo, he can’t bare to watch you look hot on stage and know you’re no longer his. he’s determined to get you back.

warnings: smut obvi, p in v, fingering, swearing, use of ‘y/n’, nicknames (baby), overstimulation, unprotected sex (don’t be fucking stupid), matt calling reader ‘slutty’, probably more i can’t think of

authors note: I HAVE RETURNED!! i have come back from like a two month long hiatus (HIATUS??? DONT USE BIG WORDS MATTTT) to bring you guys the much requested imgonnagetyouback inspired fic featuring popstar! reader! in my mind i see popstar! reader as sabrina carpenter/madison beer type, not necessarily looks wise just their presence. anyways i love ya and thank u for all the kind words on pretty voice :(((

you walked around stage with more confidence then ever. you questioned if fake confidence still counts as confidence, but nobody seemed to know that you’re faking it. it had been 2 weeks since your breakup with matt, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t wreck you. but you don’t want to ruin the fans experience while you’re on tour, so you maintained your confident-happy-seductive-popstar act.

you were considered the new it girl of pop music. even though you were at your worst, you were getting a lot of attention. most questions fans asked you were about the breakup, but you were trending on twitter for a week straight. fans were making sad breakup edits and update accounts were notifying everyone about the latest stuff regarding the breakup.

because of those update accounts, you knew that matt and his brothers were at your show tonight. you didn’t know why, and even though it made you sick, you got up on the stage and shook your ass and sang your little heart out.

you wore a short lilac skirt, the one that fits you like skin. it drive matt crazy; the way it matched your skin tone so perfectly and accentuated your curves. you were a humble girl, but there were times you knew just how hot you were.

you felt bittersweet about this being the last stop of your tour. you were excited you could rest and grieve and mourn your ended relationship. but you were sad because of the happiness you did feel at one point performing to your fans and the family you created with your band.

with it being the last stop of tour, your team is throwing a little party at some club nearby the venue in seattle. it was planned for weeks now, and at the time you planned it, you added matt and his brothers name to the guest list. and you didn’t have the guts to remove it after the breakup, you didn’t even think you needed to because why would he show up? you regret it as you look at him from your spot on stage. he’s standing on the balcony with his brothers, and he looks guilty and mad at the same time. you quickly look away before you became sick, like how you normally feel seeing his face anywhere.

you say your goodbyes to the crowd and walk off stage as confetti shoots from the ceiling. you make your way backstage where your team awaits you, showering you with compliments and praises. the usual ‘you did so great tonight’ shit. matt used to be the first one to compliment you after a show, whispering sweet things in your ear; odd compliments that nobody else would tell you but that’s why they meant so much. you shake the thought of him from your mind as you pray that he won’t attend the party later tonight.

standing at the bar like somethings funny, bubbly.

God didn’t answer your prayers, unfortunately. you stood talking to one of your best friends, madison beer, but instead of keeping eye contact with her as she talks to you, your eyes are on matt. he’s on the other corner of the room by the bar, with his brothers. chris is sipping on a pepsi, nick with a dr. pepper, and matt has nothing in his hands. he glances over to you and goes back to his conversation with chris. he laughs and you wonder what he’s laughing at, you brush it off and engage in your conversation with madison.

fuck. fuck fuck fuck. an endless stream of curse words run through your mind because knowing he’s in the same room as you, at your party, is driving you insane. you wander through the crowds, making small talk but never staying with the same people for long. you sneak a quick look at matt who seems oddly bubbly while he’s talking to some blonde girl. as if he can feel your stare, he looks at you and makes a face. not a disgusted face, but one that reads ‘i see you too.’

an hour or two passes and i see some blonde girl approach him, and i know he wouldn’t *dare*. while we technically can see other people, we were never *not* each others. the blonde girl, who had to have been someone’s plus one cause i know damn well i didn’t invite her, is so obviously flirting with him. how bold of her! he seems uninterested but he’s still talking to her, which makes me feel sick. i hate he still has that effect on me.

say you got somebody, i’ll say i got someone too.

i know it’s petty, but i just want him to know that i can have someone too. i walk up to the first boy that i see, making small talk and his eyes almost pop out of his head when he realizes who i am. i can feel matt’s stare from across the room. i have zero interest in this guy i’m talking to, i just want to piss matt off. i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i tell all of my friends that i hate him, but i go fucking crazy when i see him or hear anything about him.

part of me wants to yell at him and curse him out, and the other half wants to take him back to my hotel. your phone is tucked into the neckline of your dress, feeling it vibrate. you smile at the stranger and pull your phone out, matt’s name on your lockscreen. you look over and see him staring at you. it definitely worked, this man is furious.

ten minutes later, you wait in the gender neutral bathroom. you apply more lipgloss in the mirror when matt walks in, quickly locking the door behind him.

“you hate parties,” you mutter as you layer on more mauve lipgloss, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

he shrugs, “yeah, but i don’t hate you.”

you roll your eyes, “well, i hate you.”

he laughs dryly, “yeah? how come you’re here then? in this bathroom with me, with the door locked?” he says, walking up behind you. you can feel his bulge against your ass.

you sigh and turn around, less than an inch of distance between you. “i hate you.”

he nods, “for sure.” he brings his thumb to your glossed lips, smirking. “so pretty.”

before you could even think twice, you’re sitting on the sink, wrapping your legs around matt’s waist, making out. maybe if you were sober you wouldn’t be in this situation, but if you were sober you probably would have wanted it more.

“hate you so much,” you mumble in between sloppy kisses.

“i know,” he mutters. he taps your thighs, signaling for you to spread them more. and of course, you do. he reaches his hand under your dress, pulling your panties to the side. he does all of this without breaking your kiss, too. and to no one’s surprise, you’re soaked.

he looks up at you, “you hate me so much but you’re soaking wet? doesn’t make sense.” he says.

“stop talking,” you whine.

he plunges two fingers into your cunt, and your hand immediately flies to your mouth. while it isn’t out of the ordinary to have sex in a bathroom at a club, you don’t want people to know it’s you.

he uses his other hand and pulls your hand away from your mouth. “let ‘em hear you.”

he continues fingering you until he feels your walls clench down on his fingers, and he pulls them out.

“matt!” you whine.

he nods, “i know, baby.” matt loves to edge you, and it pisses you off.

you roll your eyes and push him away, hopping off the sink. “no, i really do hate you.”

matt rolls his eyes, “oh, here we go again with that bullshit.”

you’re about to unlock the door and walk out of it before matt stops you. he swats your hand away from the door knob and walks closer to you until you’re up against the door.

“off,” he says, tugging at the fabric of your dress. and even though you said you hated him 5 seconds ago, you obey him.

he helps you wiggle out of your dress, you step out of it and slide it across the bathroom.

matt takes his belt off and unbuttons his jeans, you slide his boxers down to his ankles along with his jeans.

you’re still against the door when matt says, “jump.” you quickly obey, wrapping your legs around his hips. he uses the door to help not drop you, and you’re sure your back will hurt and have some bruises after this.

his dick is firmly pressing against your clit, and matt uses one arm to support you and the other to slide his dick inside your entrance. you hadn’t had his cock in a couple months, and it’s like it’s the first time again.

“oh fuck,” he groans. “still so tight. none of the other guys can stretch you like i do, huh?” he whispers into your ear.

“shut up and fuck me already, matt.” you reply bitterly.

“if you say so,” he whispers before bucking his hips into you so hard you think you might have a bruise.

“oh!” you gasp.

matt maintains eye contact with you, “you miss this dick?”

you nod as he continues to fuck into you, the door rattling against you.

“i don’t believe that, use your words, y/n.” he teases.

“i missed— oh fuck, missed your dick,” you whimper.

he pushed you harder against the door behind you so he could use his other hand to rub circles on your clit.

“well, i missed this pussy too. know it missed me back.”

your hole fluttered at his words which made him let out a soft groan. you felt his dick everywhere, in your soul.

he moved his hand away from your clit, leaving you trembling.

“m’back hurts,” you whined as he slid his dick in and out of you.

matt looked at you with sympathy, “i know baby… but we’re in a bathroom cause you’re jus’ so needy, so there’s not much room for me to fuck you like i want.”

this was true.

he rammed into you harder and faster, causing you to let out an almost pornographic shriek.

matt dryly laughed, “sound so pretty. such a pretty voice.”

you knew how much matt loved your career. the most famous pop girl at the moment wrapped around his finger. he loved watching your shows and seeing how all your female fans would bring their boyfriends to a concert and he’d watch their intense stares as you pranced around on stage in nothing but a tiny dress and heels. everyone wanted to fuck you or be you, and he loved that you were his in every way. but after the breakup, he’s gotten angry so of course he has to make up for lost time with a very intense fuck.

he slammed into you and pulled out just as quick, repeating this until he can feel your walls tightening against his lengthy cock.

“c’mon, baby. know your close, give it to me.” he whispered in your ear.

“oh god,” you moaned.

matt stopped fucking you, “s’not my name, baby.”

you whined, “fuck me, matt.” you said, putting emphasis on his name.

he smiled and started pounding into you again. “good job, baby. love when you use that pretty lil voice of yours.”

your nails scratched artwork onto his back, maybe breaking skin but matt didn’t mind at all.

“you gonna cum?” he taunted.

you nodded, “matt!”

“cum for me baby,” he demanded.

“oh god! oh, oh matt!” you said it correctly this time as your orgasm ripped through you. the first genuinely good one in two weeks.

matt didn’t slow down, he stayed fucking you through your orgasm.

“can’t!” you yelled.

matt shook his head, “you can. jus’ gimme one more. one more.”

you shut your eyes tightly gripping onto his back as tight as you can. you start squirming as your next orgasm approaches.

“m’cumming! oh! matt, i’m cumming!”

he nods, “i know baby.”

after you come down from your orgasm high, matt helps you adjust yourself so you look presentable to go back out into your party.

you reapply your lip gloss and run your fingers through your hair, combing them out. you fix your dress while matt hands you your panties.

“well, it was nice seeing you.” you say sweetly, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“very nice.” he says with a smirk on his face. he adjusts his hair too before unlocking the door and holding it open for you. you’re greeted by a long line of upset faces waiting to use the bathroom.

you and matt make side eye each other as you walk away from the crowd, giggling.

you and matt both know you were never not each others.

[sykoangels]

movie star

paring: Rodrick Heffley x hyperfemme!reader

warnings: oral sex (f! Receiving) , sex tapeunprotected sex

author note: im literally in love with rodrick!!! sooo enjoy this is gonna be feeding my delusions unfortunately

Rodrick Heffley is a character to say the least he could be a bit bitchy, but he was crazy talented. He’s the frontman of the band Loaded Diper a band he created with his friends. Back in freshman year, he was holding auditions for a new guitarist due to the one he had moving overseas. You went to the audition and got in with flying colors. Rodrick wanted something different from the band and you had to look and the talent. Your aesthetic was very different from the rest of the band, but still leaned into the emo aesthetic as well, but not too far off that they would get called posers. You loved wearing fishnets and baby tees, especially ones with crazy sayings on them like “I heart men whimpering” or “#1 gaslighter.” The band was doing well, especially throughout high school but now you're a sophomore in college doing the band on the side for extra money well also studying music technology because you want to become a music producer.

But you were keeping a secret at least from the rest of your bandmates. You and Rodrick have been in a friends-with-benefits relationship for about six months. This came about after the winter tour had concluded. One minute you guys were talking at a Christmas party and the next minute you were bent over a dingy bathroom sink and some random college frat house. You didn’t mind this since you always thought Rodrick was very attractive. If you were honest with yourself, he fit every piece of criteria when it came to your romantic partner. Handsome, tall, musically inclined, and a bit pathetic looking he checked all the boxes. He wasn’t even bad at sex either. Maybe the rumor you heard about rockstars are right they’re really decent in bed. It was getting difficult to hide the friends with benefits relationship since now they are preparing for our summer tour, which means we’re constantly around our band mates each other 24/7 no breaks.

The air was thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat as the last chords of their set reverberated through the dimly lit club. The crowd roared, their voices a mix of excitement and exhaustion after a night of headbanging to Rodrick Heffley's band. You, the lead guitarist, felt the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your fingers tingling from the rapid-fire strumming. As you stepped off the stage, Rodrick caught your eye from across the room. His smirk was mischievous, a silent acknowledgment of the secret that only the two of you shared. You made your way through the throng of fans and backstage hangers-on, your black micro mini skirt swishing against your thighs, fishnet stockings adding a touch of rebellion to your hyperfeminine style.

"Great set tonight," he said, his voice low as he pulled you into a corner, away from prying ears. "Always," you replied, smiling coyly. "But you know what would make it even better?"Rodrick leaned closer, his eyes dark with intrigue. "What's that?""A little after-party of our own," you whispered, your breath warm against his neck. His hand found yours, fingertips grazing softly. "I like the sound of that."

With a nod, you both knew the plan. You slipped out the back door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat inside. He quickly made it to the van loading up the instruments before sending a quick text to the under bandmates saying that you didn’t feel good and that you were going back to his place to rest. You guys called a taxi and made it back to Rodrick’s place. The drive to his place was short, the city lights blurring past as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

Inside, the apartment was quiet, the usual clutter of instruments and band posters giving way to an intimate setting. Rodrick pressed you against the wall as soon as the door closed, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his band tee beneath your fingers.

"Wait," you murmured against his lips, pulling back slightly. "I need to remember this moment forever.”

Rodrick nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. You walked over to the camera set up on its tripod, a sly grin playing on your lips. Flicking it on, you adjusted the angle to capture the both of you perfectly. "Are you ready baby” he asked, his voice husky with desire. You turned to face him, your outfit a stark contrast against the darkness of the room. "More than ready," you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. Rodrick closed the distance between you, his hands gentle as they cupped your face. His lips met yours again, this time with a tenderness that spoke of deeper emotions hidden beneath the surface. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the hardness of his body against yours. "You look so fucking pretty babe," he murmured, his gaze tracing every inch of your exposed skin.

"thank you baby" you whispered back, your fingers trailing down his chest to the button of his jeans. With a deft flick, you undid it, sliding the zipper down slowly, deliberately. Rodrick groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, I need you so bad," he muttered, his voice thick with lust. You smiled, a thrill running through you at his words. "Show me," you challenged, your eyes daring him to go further.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Rodrick lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. The camera captured every moment, the lens focusing on your intertwined bodies with an unflinching gaze. Settling you down, Rodrick knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. His hands were reverent as they explored your body, peeling away layers of clothing with careful precision. You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your panties, slipping beneath the delicate fabric to tease you.

"Rodrick," you whimpered, your head falling back as pleasure surged through you. "that’s it good girl" he hushed, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Let me hear you." You obeyed, biting your lip to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape. Rodrick’s mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue darting out to taste you, sending waves of sensation crashing over you. You gripped the cushions beneath you, your body arching towards him, seeking more.

"Fuck yes” you moaned, your voice breaking the silence. "Oh fuck yes " Rodrick chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "You like that, huh?" “ I love it oh fuck” you admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued his ministrations. The camera watched silently, capturing your expressions of pleasure, the way your body writhed under Rodrick’s skillful touch. You could feel the heat building within you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might explode.

"Rodrick," you cried out, your voice raw with need. "Please, I need—" He didn’t let you finish. Rising to his feet, Rodrick positioned himself above you, his eyes burning with desire. You reached for him, guiding him inside you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. You both shuddered, a symphony of sighs and moans filling the room as you moved together, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge."Look at you," Rodrick panted, his forehead resting against yours. "So thirsty for my fucking cock like some groupie whore”

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "yes your groupie whore," you agreed, your voice barely above a whisper. As the climax approached, the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, until finally, it snapped. You cried out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body convulsing with the force of your release. Rodrick followed soon after, his own cry mingling with yours as he spilled himself inside you, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. As the afterglow of their passionate encounter began to fade, you and Rodrick lay entangled on the couch, the camera still recording your every breath. The room was filled with a mixture of scents—the musky aroma of sweat mingled with the faint hint of your perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that seemed to encapsulate the intensity of the moment

[hoes4lino]

🍓 Fields 🍓 | LMH

WARNING ⊂✦⊃ This story contains nsfw content as well as mentions of alcohol; minors please don’t interact, please beware of what you consume online.

Genre: College au, fluff, angst

Summary: He was madly in love, she just wanted to live in peace. What happens when one of the most popular guys in college falls in love with the dork who no one knows?

Word Count: 23.5k

Reading Time: approx 2hrs

Authors Note: In this fic I’m combining two of my favorite things in this world… soccer and leeknow ^•^ y’all should know that Im a hoe for romantic fics, so this was enjoyable to write even though it took me many sleepless nights to finish this. This is my first time writing such a long story, so hope you enjoy!!! <3

It was 3 am and you were already feeling today wasn’t going to be a good day. It all started when you abruptly woke up from what was supposed to be a 30-minute nap, just to look at the clock and realize it was 1:07 am… you overslept 6hrs since you got home.

All sweaty and thirsty, you brag yourself out of bed and opened the shower, while letting the cold water adjust to a warmer temperature you opened your Macbook to check what assignments you had to do for the day.

You internally cursed yourself as you blankly stared at the assignment, <what if I say my grandma died> you thought, as you tried to find a reasonable excuse to give your professor. You had no problem in speedrunning a few designs, however knowing your teacher you rather do nothing than give him some sloppy drawings <he is going to kill me> you cried <thats it, Im failing, im never graduating> as thoughts filled your head, you heard a notification pop in your phone, startling you.

Hello Cornell University!

Today we love to announce the beginning of autumn sports! Please join us tomorrow at the field for the first soccer game of the year!

Go Bears! 🐻❤️

You scoff at the notification. Since you moved for college, you didn’t take the time to make friends or meet any new people in general, you missed Korea and even though you were now at your dream college, you didn’t feel like you fit in here, the cultures were just too different and it made you feel off place, you didn’t like the people here, none of them seem to have manners or have some sense of respect towards others everyone was self-centered, the thing that made you scared to talk to others. You decided to go unnoticed and just stick to the friendships you had back in Korea. Although pulling up to the game and meeting a few people didn’t sound bad, you were a very passionate soccer fan, and meeting people with the same interest sounded exciting.

— — —

It was now 6 am, you had your first class at 8:45 am, and you finished doing your designs although they weren’t your best you were proud of how decent they looked, you grabbed the pieces of paper and placed them carefully into your folder trying to keep them at neat as possible, you thought of making yourself a cup of coffee, however, you decided to take a nap before your class started.

The way the sun rays gently touched your face and the birds sang beautiful background melodies was a warning that you were late to class. Eyes fully opening in panic when you read on the clock that it was now 8:28 am, you had about 12min to get to your class, quickly putting on a denim skirt, some Adidas forum, and a cute top, you rushed to grab your bag and left the dorm running. While running through the now-empty hallways with a piece of bread in your mouth, you brushed your hair and sprayed some perfume on yourself, trying to get yourself as decent as possible. As you were about to turn a corner you crashed with a firm body on the other side, making you stumble and crash yourself onto the floor.

Ashamed of yourself you just stood up and continued running, giving you the curiosity to know who that was and what they said while you left running. Luckily you made it to your class, maybe 5 or 8 minutes late but your teacher was the type to give you a few minutes to settle before he started his lesson in the morning. The class was going by pretty fast you were already in your 3rd period of the day, you went to your architecture class and your professor was impressed with your designs, you explained to him that you rushed through them, however, he seemed to have taken it in a good way.

"It’s ok y/n, I just graduate from college as well, I'm also a victim of procrastination" he whispered as he left a breathy chuckle, in that moment you realized Mr. Hyunjin and you had an age gap of 4 yrs, you two were pretty much alike, if he was your classmate he would be your best friend. At that moment you wondered how he got his teaching degree that fast "However, please do your drawings in time, although this is amazing I can see some of the lines are a little sloppy" he grinned at you as he handed back your drawings "I will Mr. Hawng" you grabbed your stuff; as you were about to leave when he stopped you once again in your tracks "Y/n, you should go to the soccer game today, its a big event and I have noticed you haven’t adapted yet to the environment" you slowly nodded as you gave him a small grin "I will think about it".

You thought of the proposal as you walked to your engineering class, everyone was talking about the game, was our team that good or was it just full of pretty faces and popular boys? Guess we will have to find out at the game. Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when someone decided to sit next to you, you usually sit alone in this class so you would lie if you said you didn’t feel nervous "Look its miss hit and run" You blink confused a couple of times as you stare at the brunette boy sitting next to you, his cat-like eyes, sharp nose, and plump lips made your heart skip a beat <Is this man-made by the greek god's wtf> he scoffed as you didn’t say anything back at him "thanks to you I was late to my morning class" he rolled his eyes, you could feel your cheeks turning bright red at the embarrassment "I’m so sorry, I was running late to my class" you mumbled as you tried to hide your face in between your books, he scoffed once again. The rest of the class was spent in uncomfortable silence, both of you were working on whatever assignment the professor assigned, however, you couldn't ignore the glances he would give you from time to time.

The bell rang and you tried to leave as soon as possible, quickly packing up your stuff "Do you have Instagram?" he asked before you could get up, he wants your insta? hell no... no one from here followed you and honestly you didn't want them to find your user either "I don't use social media, sorry" With that you left as fast as you could, to you those words meant nothing, for Minho that was like a dagger stabbing his heart, he knew you used Instagram he saw you on the app during the class, that's why he went for it and asked you, second, you have no idea how much courage it took him to ask for it. Minho is not the type of guy to be nervous around a girl however with you… it felt different.

— — —

Once school was over, you went to the nearest Starbucks and got yourself your favorite refresher, however, you couldn't help to ignore the group of girls in there, they clearly went to Cornell as they proudly wore the red hoodie with the mascot on it, they were probably going to the game, however, they seemed to be talking about you "She is the girl I saw Minho with today at class" a blond girl whispered with a tone of disgust "What are the chances of Minho fucking her?" a brunette girl replied, making one of the girls hysterically laugh "Girls lets be for real, look at her and now look at me" She paused as they examined you "You think Minho would downgrade that bad" she said in a sassy tone "hmm I dunno Vanessa... she is pretty solid, and definitely top of my class" the blond girl was quickly hushed as she saw the glare of her friend "Angie if you don't learn how to shut the fuck up, I will kick your ass" <Lord please get me out of here> you thought, as the girls kept gossiping behind you, you don't know what the deal with Minho is, but you definitely didn't want to do something with him, he just sat next to you for a class and now you got people gossiping about you? worse to say, they thought you two fucking? "Y/N" the Starbucks employee yelled, taking you out of your thoughts, you grabbed your drink and left, noticing how that little friend group looked at you up and down, maybe today was a bad day to wear a denim skirt, people will think you a hooker or something. "y/n... so that's her name," Vanessa said under her breath as she watched you walk away.

On your way home you couldn't forget the interaction at Starbucks and wonder who were these girls and why were they targeting you, knowing that you were a topic of conversation at the moment made you sick to your stomach. As you pass by the campus you can hear all the cheering and music coming from the field, tempting you to take a small peak at the game. When you got closer you hid somewhere in between the bleachers and watched, what felt like 10 minutes turned into watching the whole game, but what can you say both teams were competitive and it felt like watching a world cup final. People started to leave and you decided to wait for all of them to leave, you wanted to wander around the field once everyone left. Minutes pass and it was starting to get dark, the field seemed to be now empty so you left your hiding spot and walked around it while listening to "Good Days" by sza. The music instrumental combined with the beautiful scenery of the field with the vanishing sunset gave you a feeling of euphoria, captured by the scene as you stare at it mesmerized, you didn't acknowledge the presence approaching you.

"Fancy meeting you here" Startled by the sudden voice, your instinct was to throw hands, quickly throwing the refresher you had in your hand with half its content in it. The juice splashed all over the boy's face, leaving him with shock showing in his face. "I- I'm sorry," you stare at him scared "I swear I didn't mean to, you just appeared and..." You were quickly hushed as he opened his eyes, looking at you with pure anger "You just dirtied my shirt" he said in annoyment "I have another game tomorrow" he sighed in frustration "Give it to me, I have a washing machine and a dryer at my dorm, let me wash it for you" your voice stuttering here and there, unlike you Minho was enjoying this, seeing the way your eyes trembled and the way you tried to collect yourself to solve this more professionally "Ok, then..." he paused as he was about to take his shirt right there "WAIT" you stop him, your hands grabbing his forearms as you pulled them down with the shirt "Don't take your shirt here" you flustered "Just follow me to my dorm, it will take 30 minutes max and you can clean yourself" you suggested, you just wanted to be done with the shirt incident and never seen him ever again.

— — —

The walk to your apartment had to be the most awkward moment of your whole life. Once the two of you reached your door, you realized the type of person you were dealing with "Hope your roommate doesn't get the wrong idea when I get in" he said in a rather suggestive tone while he glare at you with a smirk, you sighed "I don't have a roommate, I rather live alone in silence" you said annoyed opening the door, making him chuckle "That's some valuable information right there" he said as he closed the door and quickly took his shirt off "where is your bathroom, so I can take a quick bath" you turn around to give him the directions when you were surprised with his honey-toned chest and flat stomach <Lord almighty> it seemed that after all you were right when you said he was built by the greek gods, however, you knew the game he was playing and you were def not forming part of it, so you shook all those thoughts away and took him to your bathroom, where you also explained to give how the washing machine worked and with that, you left him in there.

Now in your mind, you were recreating every single moment of your day. First, you crash into someone this morning, that someone being Minho, one of the most handsome guys you have ever seen, captain of the soccer team, popular and most likely a fuck boy based on the gossip of those girls at Starbucks, and now he is in your house... taking a bath... things can't get any worse at that moment if you told your friends they would swear you are creating some type of kdrama shit in your little delusional head, however, all this was real... which made you sick.

You stood up from your couch with a sigh, deciding to switch to more comfortable clothes and start your assignments, while you waited for Minho to leave. Going to your room you picked up a pink spaghetti strap tank top and your favorite silk white shorts accompanying it with fluffy socks and your pink slide slipper, then you left the room and made your way to the kitchen, reheating some leftover Gimbap from the previous night.

"Ahhh~" Minho teases "So this is what it would feel like dating you, taking a shower after a rough day, to find you in your little pajamas warming up some food for us" At that moment you couldn't focus on his words, as he was getting closer to you with his wet brunette hair and wearing nothing but a towel... YOUR TOWEL... Once he was a couple of inches apart from you, you looked into his eyes and started laughing, at that moment you didn't know if you were laughing at his words, at the whole situation, or out of nervousness.

"And here I thought I was delusional" you chuckle relaxing "Also what are you doing with MY towel" You emphasize the word as he looks down to stare at it "I gave you another one, you were supposed to use that one... not mine," you say in frustration, now you will have to wash it, the water bill was looking crazy at that moment "I liked the texture of this one better, plus I also liked the scent" you scoff at his words and took your food out of the microwave "Whatever, just dress up and leave my house," you said as you pushed him away of your way and sat on your comfy couch, placing your food on the coffee table and picking up the tv remote "So you are just going to let me go like that?" he said with a dumbfounded face, you look at him confused "ermm... yeah? you are only here cause I spilled my drink on you, don't abuse the invite, I could have hit and run like I did this morning" you said as you blankly passed the channels on the tv.

He scoffed, at that moment he didn't know why he felt disappointed, as if he was hoping for more, for you to invite him and have a bite of your food, an invite to sit there with you and watched whatever shitty show you were watching, he walked to the bathroom and took his cloths out of the dryer, he dressed up and even though he was ready, he didn't want to leave that bathroom cause that meant leaving your house.

The reality was that he had been liking you since freshmen year, the moment he saw you at the welcoming party was like you caught his mind, since then he's been in denial of accepting his crush on you. He knew you were shy and that you were good at drawing, he always paid attention to every little single detail of you, he would often find himself looking for you in crowded places knowing that you hated them, he hated every single thing about being in love with you, yet he always craved being loved by you; in the inside, he wanted to worship you, have you in his arms every morning, cook your favorite meals, go on silly dates with you... he would party and fuck around to see if you would leave his mind someday... yet he was never lucky, the only thing that would clear his mind was soccer, he loved the adrenaline, the intensity, and the beauty of the sport, in his head he would often compare his love for soccer with his love for you, the only difference was that one was more realistic than the other.

When he caught you today mesmerized with the field, he felt like you stole his heart for a second time, the way your eyes shined under the sunset, the way the breeze moved your hair, and the way your smile brought warmth to his heart, he felt like it was the day to do something about it, get closer to you. The moment you offered him to come to your dorm, his heart was beating so fast, he has never been this nervous before, and yes maybe he has been in a bunch of girl's dorms before but for some reason, yours just felt special.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a heavy heart, ready to say his goodbyes and leave your life for once, however, he didn't expect to find you knocked out on the couch, the sight of you sleeping peacefully made his heart skip a beat, making him mad at himself for being this down bad. He slowly walked to your sleepy figure, he grabbed a fluffy blanket you had on the couch and wrapped it around you. The next thing he remembers he was on his knees analyzing your face, he has never been this close, and the temptation to kiss your plump lips was bigger than anything, however, he held himself and instead planted a sweet peck on your cheek, with a smile on his face he made sure to leave quietly.

— — —

The next morning you slowly opened your eyes and sat on the couch, you blink a couple of times trying to remember what happened last night, the tv was off and you had a blanket on top of you... <When did Minho leave?> You ask yourself, due to the tiredness you don't remember a single thing. It was a Friday morning, and you had no plans for the rest of the day as you didn't have any lectures till the afternoon, however, you hated staying at your dorm the whole day so you decided to get ready and go for a refresher and then to the library. Today you decided to go with a simple purple sundress and your white Converse accompanied with a white tote bag.

You would lie if you said you didn't feel self-aware the moment you walked through the campus, a bunch of eyes staring at you, confused you tried asking someone around you what was going on, however, you were too scared to approach someone.

"So are you the girl Lee Minho was lucky to pull or is he just a pass time?" a girl with blond hair and lovely eyes said as she approached you "Excuse me?" you raised an eyebrow "I'm sorry, it's just that rumor is spreading like a wildfire" she chuckled while she gave you a warming smile "I'm rosé" she extended a hand in front of you "I'm y/n" you shook her hand while smiling "ermm do you mind telling me what this rumor is about? I'm really confused" she chuckled "Of course, let's go get something to drink first" she smiled grabbing your hand.

"So there is this girl Vanessa and her group of minions," she said while she proceed to take a sip of her drink "She is Minho's ex, however, she seems to not let him go" She paused "He dated her out of pity, she would always go around bugging him all day until he gave in, they broke up because she got jealous of the female soccer managers and threw a fit that expelled Minho from soccer finals... They still hook up from time to time when Minho loses his mind with the alcohol" She rolled her eyes and laughed "And about your rumor..." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened Twitter to show you a thread made by Angie one of Vanessa's minions.

"Angie saw you and Minho together after the game... she also saw how he was about to take off his shirt right there" She cringed as she showed you the video Angie took from a long distance... at that moment you could understand the rumor as in all honesty, it did seem like you two were about to hook up.

"That's a misunderstanding, he scared me so I threw my drink at him..." you mumbled, "Well... it doesn't end like this..." She then pulled a second video of you two walking to your dorm at night <Oh Jesus... People think we fucked> your eyes opened in panic... you went from no one to a hot topic in two days... "Yeah... but don't worry, Minho always handles these types of rumors" She reassured you "He is my brother's best friend, so I know what happened" She caressed your arm to ease your nerves "Thank you rosé" You smile "Don't worry I got you, also you can call me Rosie" She grinned at you, her pearly white teeth showing, she was truly gorgeous.

"Do you mind who is your brother, I have never seen you around... but that might just be cause I don't know anyone here" You took a sip of your refresher "My brother is Lee Felix, we like inseparable" You could tell she admired her brother by the way her eyes light talking about him "We have seen you around, but girl you are unreachable, matter many people have been trying to approach you, but everyone is intimidated by you" She laughed.

"That's why everyone calling Minho a lucky bitch, you have no idea how many people would kill for you" When you heard those words your mind went blank... do people think that about you? at that moment you felt mad at yourself for isolating yourself when you could be out there having fun with new people. "There's gonna be a party tomorrow night, be there or be square," The blond girl said as she stared at you with lovely eyes, after that you two talked until you had to leave for your class, today you could say you made your first friend ever.

— — —

It was around 8 pm that same Friday when you spotted Minho, peacefully walking with his headphones on, you slowly approached him to confront him about the rumor "Hey" you touched his shoulder giving him a warm smile, he froze at your sudden apparition "Miss me already?" he said with a smug face "No, I want to talk about the rumor... I talked with this girl Rosé and she told me you usually deny these rumors so-" You were interrupted when he started laughing "Why would I deny it? it's just an innocent rumor we both know it's not real and that should be enough" You couldn't believe your eyes at that moment, the audacity he had to say he wouldn't do it... that was an innocent rumor, you scoff "I'm sorry... innocent rumor? People out there think we fucked" you scoff once again "Ok and? what's the big deal if you know it's not true" his body stiffed as he stood straight glaring down at you.

"You don't know how it feels walking into a place and having a bunch of people talking behind your back? calling you a whore, a pass time?" you crossed your arms and looked around trying to remain calm.

"Knowing Im the hot topic of the day because of you makes me sick" your tone raising without you noticing "You are making a big deal out of nothing y/n" It was Minho's turn to raise his voice, he was about to say something when he got interrupted. "Y/n everything alright?" you turn to see Mr. Hwang "Oh Mr. Hwang" you nervously laughed "Everything alright, thanks for asking" he gave you a charming smile making Minho want to puke right there "I wanted to talk to you about something, do you have a minute? he asked ignoring Minho, which pissed him off even more "yeah sure" you smiled "Let's go to my classroom then," he said and you obediently followed him completely forgetting about Minho. He stood there, body burning in jealousy.

Minho needed to clear his mind, he didn't want anger to control his feelings, but every time he remembered the way that guy talked to you and even the way he looked at you, made him wanna punch his guts, he knew you weren't his but he wanted you all to himself and that's how he ended up in the soccer field kicking the ball as hard as he could and running as fast as he could until his legs gave up.

The roller coaster of emotions drove him insane as he ran behind the ball, thinking that you might like that guy was his final stroke as his legs gave up and he landed on the soft grass of the field, tears rolling down his eyes as he couldn't understand why he felt this way towards someone he barely knew. After he lay on the grass blankly staring at the stars for like an hour he decided to try and let you go, he grabbed his phone and Tweeted that the rumor was fake and to leave you alone, he threw his phone beside him and closed his eyes.

— — —

The next day you noticed Minho publicly denied the rumor, you felt so grateful to him, a warm smile adorning your face, and you kept it a mental note that you would thank him if you saw him.

The party was today and you doubted if you should go or not but after talking with your best friend Eunchae, she convinced you to go and that's how you find yourself wearing a silk black dress with a slit and your favorite heels, for the jewelry you went with a pearl necklace and long gold earrings and for makeup you went with something natural but cute, once your hair was done you grabbed a small bag and left your dorm.

At the party you meet up with Rosé, who you quickly lost as she joined her brother and a couple of other friends, they all disappeared into the crowded place filled with warm bodies, you weren't ready for all the chaos yet; so you made your way to the bar to get a few drinks and maybe lose up enough to start dancing with people, you were feeling yourself for the first time in years, you never thought you would enjoy this; but at that moment you felt that enjoy was not enough to describe how much you were loving this party.

The taste of the bitter alcoholic drink you were consuming plus the music and neon lights of the club made you feel as if everything was in slow motion, maybe the vodka of your drink had finally begun to hit, and you could also feel the temperature of your body rising, your eyes moving in all directions inspecting the people in the room; that's when you spot him.

Lee Minho, wearing an all-black outfit, his shirt was tight enough to give his body justice, plus it had a zipper he kept half opened exposing a bit of his chest, you could see the way girls drool over him and to think you got to see more than that the day he went to your apartment.

His brunette hair and plump lips, for some reason today you felt tempted by them for the first time, the way his cat-like eyes shined under the neon lights... yeah you acknowledge he was handsome, made by the Greek Gods as you would say, however, you were never captive by his charms like today... was it the alcohol? was it because of your previous interactions? You don't know what possessed you to stand up from your seat and made your way towards him.

Once he spot you the smile he had on his face faded away, at that moment you felt he didn't want you there but the way he looked at you gave you a hint that he wanted you there more than anyone. You smiled before approaching him, a giggle escaping your soft lips "I saw that you denied the rumors..." you trace as you study his face "Thank you" you finally said after a pause. At that moment you could see how Minho's body language changed, he went from relaxed to stiff in a matter of seconds "No problem" he said with no expression at all.

This was the first time you saw him this cold towards you, you couldn't quite decipher what was wrong so to lift the mood you grabbed his hand and brag him with you towards the dancing floor "y/n what are you doing" he said as he quickly walked behind you, At this moment he could feel the warmth of your hand touching his, everything was moving in slow motion for him, he was going to treasure this memory forever.

"I don't want to dance alone... I'm shy but with you, I feel like I can be myself" You grin at him as you glare at his deep brown eyes, if this was some kdrama Minho would have kissed you by now... he didn't know how much he would last this "cold treatment" act he was trying to play on you.

"I thought you didn't like our dating allegations, this will just add fuel to them" he scoffs rolling his eyes "Come on... you are Lee Minho" You emphasize his name "Do you really care about those rumors?" he didn't say anything, the tension was increasing creating an uncomfortable environment between the two of you; but you are y/n and you won't give up easily.

Die for you by the weekend started playing and you decided to screw it and let the music guide your body. Minho just stood there watching the way your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, the way you would throw your head back exposing your cleavage, he felt like you were inducing him, putting a spell under him, the way you smiled as you were having fun... he was falling for your act.

Once the music changed he realized he was hypnotized by you the whole time, but what made his blood boil is that he wasn't the only one as he spot more than a few staring at your body, at that moment out of instinct he placed a hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his body, the contact and the warmth of his chest against yours made your stomach tingle.

A few minutes passed and he had his neck in the crook of your neck as you both danced carefreely, he would constantly pull your dress down as it kept rolling up from all the grinding and movement.

Both of your hearts pounded excitedly there was something about this moment that felt special like it was meant to be, however, you were starting to get tired as you weren't feeling the music with the same energy you started. You gently pushed Minho away thank him for the time and left to sit somewhere in the club.

Minho's heartache as you left him, he wished he could stop time so he could enjoy more of your warmth, but he couldn't do anything and he knew it, you didn't belong to him and that's why he let you go.. he stood there watching your figure disappear between the rest of the bodies "HEY MINNIE" a voice squeaked behind him and he knew exactly who it belonged to as the girl hugged his arm... it was going to be a long night for Minho.

It was around 2 am and the party continued, you were pretty tired your social battery drained hours ago, you sat at one of the chairs at the bar and scrolled through your social media, waiting for Rosé to be done so you both could call for an Uber.

"Hey pretty" You look up to see an unfamiliar face, the man was really good looking and you could tell he had more than a couple of drinks by the way he would hiccup from time to time, by his body language you knew he wanted to hit on you and that he was rather desperate, making you uncomfortable.

"Hey" you tried to be friendly either way "You are y/n right, I’m Jake, I think you are really cute" he got closer placing a hand behind your back, at this moment you panicked you had no way of escaping his grip and it was making you feel uncomfortable, also with all the drinks you had you were feeling tired "Thank you so much and nice to meet you, but I gotta go" you nervously chuckled trying to push him away.

"Come on baby… don’t leave without giving me a kiss" With that he leaned dangerously close to your face trying to steal a kiss away from you when he abruptly got pushed away, startle you looked behind to see a rather pissed off Minho "Leave her alone" he hissed at him and grabbed your hand, quickly walking you to the exit "Wait… Minho, I need to wait for Rosé," you said mumbling "Don’t worry, Felix got her" you relax knowing that she was safe with her brother.

— — —

The walk to your apartment was rather comforting than you expected, you thought the walk would be awkward like last time and filled with silence, however, you didn’t expect Minho to be the type of guy that’s easy to talk to… well what did you expect he pretty popular for a reason.

Maybe was the alcohol lingering in the air or the impulsive thought to let him inside and see what would happen, but you never expected that after the first encounter, you would let him into your apartment again.

"It’s pretty late…" you trace looking into his dark eyes "The college staff might give you a warning if they find you" Although you tried to sound as stable as possible your voice started cracking as you finished your sentence.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, however, he quickly stopped in his tracks and slightly smirked "Sure" he smiled as he stepped inside the dorm and took his shoes off.

"I’m pretty tired so I’m going to change into something more comfortable," you said as you dropped your bag in the living room "Make yourself home, I will try to see if I can find something comfortable for you to wear" he looked at you as you walked around the dorm, all he could think of is how close he was but so far at the same time.

"Don’t" he quickly regretted saying that when you turned around to look at him confused "You don’t want comfy cloth?" you questioned, his cheeks lightly blushing… gosh is it the alcohol? he was going to make a mental note to never drink near you ever again "No… no… that’s not what I mean…" he traces shyly, you laugh at seeing him in this condition, where was the snarky, confident man you knew?

"Your dress" he spoke again after collecting himself "You look really pretty in it…" he paused walking closer to you with a smirk and dark eyes "Please don’t take it off yet" his hand moved closer to your face to readjust your bangs.

Once again you don’t know if it was the alcohol or the sinful thoughts you been having about him, but the urge to kiss him was unstoppable.

The way he looked at your lips with those dreamy eyes, with a soft hand resting on your cheek… everything at that moment felt perfect but you just met him a couple of days ago, that made you uneasy, but as your faces got closer and closer by the seconds you couldn’t help but let it happen; you closed your eyes in anticipation but then you came to the realization, that you are not about to kiss with the love of your life, this is Lee Minho… one of the biggest fuck boys in your college… is it worth it risking a night with him and then be the topic of conversation the next day?

You quickly moved your head to the side of his neck "Woah that tequila got me messed up" you laugh awkwardly as you backed away "Maybe on another occasion you get to see me with another pretty dress" You winked and went inside your room as quickly as possible.

Minho was left dumbfounded in the middle of your living room, he cursed himself for being too obvious and too desperate… he was scared you knew his true feelings, however, he is not the type of guy to stress over a crush so he shook his thoughts away and decided to wait for you in the living room while he watched something on the tv.

"Fuck" you mumbled as you struggled to zip your dress off, you had no trouble putting it on, but it seemed like the zipper got stuck on the fabric at some point, you walked around the room questioning what to do <C’mon y/n… you live alone if he wasn’t here what would you do…> stress quickly overtook you as you got more and more desperate trying to get rid of the dress <I guess I could cut it> you thought as you spotted a pair of scissors in your table <But its channel… I went on bankrupt to get it> you cried internally <They better make better quality zippers next time> you sigh in defeat.

Shyly you walk over to your door, the faint sound of the tv getting louder as you are slightly open the door "Ermmm Minho" you said quietly in a whisper, surprisingly that was loud enough to get his attention "Yeah" he said his gaze not leaving the screen in front of him "I need your help" this time he turned around with a confused look "The zipper is stuck… can you help me?" you said sounding defeated.

He hummed in agreement scared that if he used his words he would make his excitement obvious, you grabbed his hand and led him into your room, it was the first time he ever saw it, the scent of lavender and vanilla that surround your room smelled just like you, he studied the room spotting a bunch of books all over the floor.

"Don't mind the mess" you say "I have been busy with work" You sigh as your turn your back and moved your hair exposing the zipper of your dress "Don't worry about it, out of all the girl's rooms I have been, yours is the most exciting to be in" he mumbled as he focused on zipping the dress down; you blushed at his comment although you try to not mind it.

"Really? Usually, boys like it when a girl's room is clean," you said as you hold your dress by the chest so you don't flash him, he hummed at your response "A clean room doesn't tell much about you... a messy room feels more intimate," he said looking at the surroundings "by the bunch of books in the floor I can tell you use them often" he paused scanning the room one more time "And..." you could feel the tone in his voice change to a teasing one "by the panties laying on the floor" you look to see where he was pointing at "I can tell you left in a rush that you couldn't pick them up"

Your eyes widen in embarrassment and you could feel your cheeks burn "MINHO" you squealed hitting his chest, Minho chuckled treasuring the moment, everything about this felt intimate, helping you with the zipper, being in your messy room, the way you turned bright red out of embarrassment, he wanted this to turn part of his daily routine and maybe it was because of the alcohol or because of the euphoria of the moment but he wished he could just throw you on the bed and worship you in every single way, however, he shoved his thoughts aside and continued helping you.

He placed a hand on your bare shoulder, and his warm palm sent chills down your spine "Hmmm" he furrowed his eyes and tighten his grip on your shoulder "You weren’t joking when you said it was stuck" he scratched his neck trying to think of a way to get it out "Oh c’mon, you are a man it shouldn’t be hard for you" you spat, desperation getting the best of you.

An airy chuckle left his lips ticking your neck "Now that was a little sexist coming from you princess" you scoff at the pet name his been giving you "Just please take it off, I'm getting hot" you cried "Alright, but don’t blame me if it breaks" he raised his hand before readjusting his position to zip the zipper down.

After what seemed 2 minutes of struggle, he pulled the zipper as hard as he could, not realizing the brute force he used; the zipper snatched in less than a second, your dress falling to your ankles as fast as the light; both of your bodies tensed, you because you realize you wore your black lace undies just in case you brought someone home, on the other hand, Minho tensed as he realizes he messed up and that you were wearing no bra.

"I-" he paused trying to collect himself "I’m sorry" he almost screamed as he threw a pillow at you and turned to look away, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the situation, if this would have happened while you were sober it would’ve been a different story, however, the alcohol roaming around your blood made you feel more carefree "YAHH" you screamed in between laughs "You are the one who ripped my dress off, I should be the one throwing pillows at you" you grabbed the dress from the floor to cover yourself and picked up the pillow he threw at you and started attacking him with it.

The room was filled with giggles and pillow feathers as you randomly started a pillow fight. During one of your attacks, Minho was quick enough to turn you around so you would be under him, the sweat forming on his forehead and the dim lights of your apartment made it a delightful sight.

"What? Already falling for me" he smirked as he got slightly closer to your face testing the waters, you scoff and smiled back hanging your hands behind his neck "You wish" You moved one of your hands to his face and traced his features like if he was some type of sculpture "However…" you quickly stopped yourself from continuing before you made a mistake "However?" he whispered as his eyes looked from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes, one of the hands that was resting besides your face moved to grab the side of your waist and slightly massage it.

You parted your lips contemplating if the words that were about to come out of your mouth would be worth it "fuck it" you mumbled as you closed the gap and gently kissed his lips.

You can’t describe the feeling of his lips on yours… they are soft… really soft and warm, it felt like you were on cloud 9, as your lips parted a faint moan left his lips in complaint "I wanna taste you" you whispered in his ear, his eyes quickly turned dark in lust and the smirk planted on his face could only describe his satisfaction at that moment.

Were you going to regret it tomorrow when you were completely sober with a hangover? yes… definitely but it's Lee Minho when do you get the chance to get laid by such a man? FUCK IT.

Once again you pushed him down your lips, this time the kiss being rough and desperate, moans leaving in between kisses "You don’t know the mistake you are doing" he mumbles in between the kiss, you parted your lips to look into his eyes and smile at him innocently "I know what I'm doing" you took your arms off his neck and move them to reveal a little bit of your cleavage.

You were teasing him and he knew, the bulge on his pants being an indicator he was enjoying it "fuck" with no warning he grabbed your hands and placed them on top of your head, one of his hands grabbing them down while the other stopped him from crushing you, his lips went back to yours, his tongue dancing along with yours, bitting your lips here and there, you spread your legs unconsciously making him smirk as he placed his leg in between your thighs and pressed into your panties, which by the second were getting wetter and wetter.

You swore you could get drunk on the wet kisses he was leaving all around your neck and cleavage, they were so addictive and the way he would force you to make eye contact or else he would stop had you on the edge. He made his way to your ear and bit it while you tried your best to not grind on his leg.

"You are getting too desperate princess" he whispered while gently caressing your wrists his been holding this whole time, he placed a chaste kiss on your lips "It’s time to stop" your eyes widen at his words… stop?! does he really want to stop??? did you do something wrong…

"Why?" You questioned as he was getting up "D-did I do something wrong" The panic in your tone scared him "No princess, of course not" he said while he hugged you and caressed your hair "I don’t get it.." you trace trying to hold back your tears from embarrassment "You are drunk… we are both drunk… I don’t want to take advantage of the situation" you pulled away from the hug and look into his eyes trying to see if he was joking, but to your surprise he wasn’t, he was straight up serious <A fuck boy who doesn’t want to fuck> you thought as he grabbed your hand "You should go to bed, it's pretty late princess" he stood up and guided you to your bed, he planted a kiss on your forehead before leaving "Sweet dreams princess, don’t forget to include me in them" he chuckled as he closed the door and left you with no words in your bed.

— — —

Two months passed and you and Minho became really good friends, both of you seemed to collectively agree to never talked about that night ever again; although there was some tension lingering between the two of you, you decided to ignore it, mostly because Vanessa has been sending you threatening notes from time to time; she believes you have no clue who those notes come from but it couldn’t be more obvious; the situation was more annoying than scary.

Another reason why you and Minho kept things as they are is because of soccer, he is busy with practice you barely see him, and only during your engineering class and parties rosé makes you tag along.

You have also been busy with your self-development or that's what you call it. You have made a bunch of new friends, mostly thanks to Hyunjin, he is supposed to be your professor but you truly appreciate the soft spot he has for you "I have been in your place" he told you once when he invited you for a quick treat, since that day you understood that he is helping you do things he wished he did during his college career.

So far you are loving the new version of yourself and you rather focus on yourself than on anything else.

— — —

"YAH MINHO" you squealed as you land harshly on the soft grass. It’s been a week since Minho begged you to join him at one of his soccer practices.

You scoffed as he screamed at the tv "This players are ass, I could beat them any day" You shoot at him but quickly regretted your words as he gave you a death glare "Don’t you dare insult my idols like that, I bet your ass won’t last a minute in a game or worse a second at a practice" you took that as a challenge, one that you regretted the day after; since then his been bugging you around with it so you finally cave in.

"Told you" he continued to laugh historically "You are too pretty to last a minute in a soccer practice" he smirked while he walked to you to help you.

You roll your eyes at his words and stood up yourself, rejecting his help, you walked towards your backpack "Woahh quitting already" You could feel the quirkiness in his tone as he followed behind you.

"You wish, Im just getting started" You took a ponytail out of your bag and turned around to face him while you do a medium ponytail.

Minho has been trying to hide his feelings for you, but it's the bare minimum you do that gets him flustered, the way your soft hair moves as you tie it and little details in your face like the mole in your bottom lip that makes him wanna kiss every single inch of you.

A loud smack is what snatched him out of his thoughts, he looks at you blankly while caressing his cheek "What the actual fuck y/n" he says in amusement which you only blink innocently in return.

"I asked you something and you never replied so I found out a good smack would kick you back to your senses" You smiled as he looked at you offended.

"I would beat your ass right now but that’s something I’m saving for another occasion" You could sense the double meaning behind his words but you shrugged it off "Other occasions will it be" you chuckled "Anyway back to what I was saying" you roll your eyes knowing he didn’t hear a word of what you were saying.

"Why do women's sports shorts have to be shorter than men’s sports shorts" You looked down at your legs "You are wearing Nike Pros, those are supposed to make you feel comfortable while moving" you scoff "Comfortable?!?!" you paused to look at him in disbelief.

"How am I supposed to feel comfortable when I feel my ass is bare naked" Out of instinct Minho tilted his head to check you out, making you hit his chest "YAH LEE MINHO" You gave him a death glare as he swung his hand in the air in defense.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to my body just moved," he said in panic, his ear turning in a faint shade of red "Whatever let's just start this practice" You pushed him and walked towards the center of the field.

After the hours passed you felt how your body was dragging you down to the grass, the cold and soft grass touching your skin, sweat dripping down your face as you tried to control your heavy breath.

The feeling of the cold breeze touching your body and the sight of a sky covered with stars felt so euphoric, a moment you wished to be trapped in. It was a feeling you haven’t experienced before, you were used to exercising but this felt different; it felt comforting… safe.

"This is a vulnerable moment for a soccer player" Minho whispered next to you, trying not to ruin your moment.

You turn your face to see him, his sharp features being hit by the soft moonlight, breeze moving his hair lightly "Tell me more" you whispered back.

Even though Minho couldn’t see your face he knew you were smiling, he could feel it in your tone "Once your legs give up to the point your body brags you down to the grass" he trails, debating whether he should turn his face to face you "That’s when you know, you did your best, that's the moment you realize you can rest from all your hard work, it’s like a prize you know?" He turns to face you, your eyes were wide looking at him, he could see the shine of the stars in them.

"A prize" you raise an eyebrow "But what if I feel like I didn’t do my best?" he chuckles "It’s a prize because it's a feeling that lets you clear your mind, you may lay down in the grass feeling like a piece of shit but when you get up, you feel like you can rule the world" he chuckles when he sees your face even more confused "Forget it, you won’t get it," he said as he sat down.

"This is going to sound crazy but I think I do" You copy his movements and sat "It’s weird but I feel refreshed…" you mumbled as you stare at the stars.

As you both stay there in awe a shooting star flew across the sky "Woah" you both said in synchronization, turning to face each other and laughing "Make a wish" he said as he went back to stare at the stars "You should make one too" you closed your eyes to make your wish "I already did" he mumbled as he stared at you.

To this day he hates himself for loving you the way he does. After that night at your apartment, he tried to distance himself, he wanted to take things slow, he wanted you to know him for who he is not for the fuck boy image he won over the years. He wanted you to be madly in love the way he was, he wanted you to crave his attention the same way he did with you.

"What did you wish for?" You broke the silence slightly opening your eyes "It’s a secret if I tell you I might jinx it" you scoff in annoyance "Not fair, now Im curious" You closed your eyes again "Just finish your wish and let’s go, It's getting chilly" He stood up to grab your belongings and get ready to leave.

— — —

The days keep flying by, and Minho’s company became something of your daily life; no matter where you were or the time, he would find a way to be there. At first, you thought it was who he was, pretending not to care about others but secretly wanting to be with them; but as you progressively got closer to him, you noticed the special treatment he would give you from time to time.

Your friendship anniversary was getting closer as yellowish colors started to paint the trees. It was a chilly night on the October breeze when he mentioned it to you "Isn’t it crazy, how it has been almost a year since the morning you ran into me"

You never took track of time the same way Minho did, he would remember every single date he considered special or worthy of remembering.

"Can’t believe so much has happened during that period" you said in a nostalgic tone, remembering how you met, the rumors, the day you became known because of a boy's attention.

That day on your way home, you scrolled through your phone, looking at all the silly videos and pictures you took with your friends and Minho. You wonder what would’ve happened if you hadn’t crashed on Minho that day… would you still be unknown? Would the two of you eventually meet?

All the what if’s started to give you a headache, so you threw yourself in bed and decided to go on a slumber sleep.

— — —

The way his soft lips left wet kisses all over your neck was a delight to your soul and body, the faint whimpers that left his mouth as if he was begging you for more, you opened your eyes, looking at the brunette boy on top of you.

You couldn’t see his face but everything felt a little too familiar, you moved your hand to squeeze his hair, giving light tugs that would gain soft moans from him "Can I" his voice was raspy and soft there was care in his tone.

You just nodded as he slid a hand under your pajama shirt and teased your boobs, drawing circles around your nipples but not touching them, his lips too busy with your lips as his tongue explored yours.

A loud moan escaped your mouth as he suddenly pinched your nipple, a smirk forming on his lips "Please let me fuck you till you scream my name" he whispered in your ears while nibbling it; you just nod at the sensation, you wanted him to do more than teasing, he was making you desperate and he knew it… both of you knew it by the way you crossed your legs in search of some friction "Easy princess, let me worship you" he moved back to your lips, the room being filled with wet noises coming from them, his hands moved from your boobs to your legs, separating them as he left your lips once again.

His body was now kneeling in between your legs, your body temperature rising even though you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt. His soft hands caressed your thighs as he made eye contact with you, the crazy feeling about all this was that you couldn’t see his face clearly, which made you even more desperate. "May I take it off" he signaled at your shirt, there was something about him asking for consent that made you feel a pool of butterflies in your stomach, you slightly nodded, suddenly feeling aware of the situation.

The smirk that adorned his face suddenly softened as he stared at your body topless "Fuck" he mumbled to himself as he dived into his chest, his mouth wrapping automatically on one of your nipples as he played him with the other one with his hand. The way his tongue would move up and down on your nipple would make you squirm in place, There was something delightful about the way he would aggressively suck on your nipple but would leave kisses on them whenever you made a sound of complaint.

As he kept working on your tits with his mouth, one of his hands slid down to tease the band on your shorts, hand sliding even deeper to touch your pussy lips, his middle finger moving up and down your folds dispersing the wetness all over your core. "Please" you begged through moans as your hips unconsciously moved to grind on his finger "Say my name and you have it" he teased biting your lips, you cried in frustration you didn’t know who he was, suddenly he slipped the finger inside you making you moan loud as the sensation "Please" you cried "Say my name" he kept whispering in your ear as he trusted his finger inside you painfully slow.

You squirmed underneath him tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to find his name in the back of your head, a second finger was inserted slowly stretching you out "Please let me fuck your cunt senseless" he begged "Say my name y/n… please" he sounded just as desperate as you, at least you knew he was also being tortured.

The torture continue as you felt his boner on your thigh, his position switching so he could give ghostly kisses on your clit, your hips buckled up at the sensation, his nose hitting that spot you needed him to work on, a moan came out of both of your mouths "Please say my name" he kept repeating, frustration overtaking you as you start to cry "Please just fuck me" you cried grabbing his hair so he would look at you "PLEASE" you cried even harder, your head going blank by the second "MINHO PLEASE FUCK ME"

Suddenly you jumped out of your bed, hitting yourself on your night table "OUCHH" you hissed as you curled yourself up in the bed, then you remembered your dream, the obvious wetness you felt between your legs being the evidence that you did have a wet dream about Minho.

You cringe at yourself as you turn to face the ceiling… what was happening? where you developing feelings for him? <Nah… I don’t think so…> You told yourself <Maybe it’s the hormones… I haven’t been laid in a while> you laugh it off as you get up from your bed to take a shower and clean yourself, however, you still felt unease at the dream you just had.

— — —

After that dream you decided to take a hot shower, and wash away all the sweat and thoughts from your head; however, the shower didn’t quite help you forget about the dream or Minho.

Suddenly your bell rang shrugging you off from your thoughts, quickly you closed your shower and wrapped yourself with your towel, you weren’t expecting any visitors since it was a Sunday night. You looked through the peephole and spotted Minho… looking a little beat up?

"Gosh, Minho what happened" you spat quickly as soon as you opened the door, distress in your tone as he falls in your arms. He was struggling to keep up with weight so you grabbed him and tried to walk him towards your couch.

"I lost my match" he groaned grabbing his head and squeezing his hair "Easy there…" You grabbed his hands stopping him from hurting himself; he gave your hands a light squeeze and sighed.

His pupils were dilated and his eyes looked rather red and watery, was he crying? Was he drunk? maybe both… you were quite confused trying to figure out his state "Were you drinking?" you questioned as you stood to pour him a glass of water.

He was silent for a bit collecting his thoughts "I usually don’t make a big deal when I lose…" he trace as he shifted on the couch, his arms and legs spreading across the couch, head falling back with a sigh. You knew this wasn’t the right moment but the sight of him manspreading in your couch with his soccer uniform was quite a view.

"But" he trailed once again before pausing "Vanessa" he sighed, the tension he was putting on his words was sending you over the edge, couldn’t he get straight to the point "She is making my life impossible" he groaned, you walked back to couch placing the cup of water in the table and sitting next to him "What’s wrong? Is she following you around again? I thought she got a boyfriend…" You were honestly startled at the mention of her name, Vanessa started dating Lucas a couple of months ago, he was the captain of the soccer team and a really handsome and extremely popular guy. "That’s the problem" he placed his hands on his face in frustration "She is only dating Lucas to be "closer" to me" he quoted the word with his hands while rolling his eyes.

"Today Lucas found a letter she was planning to give me… confessing her feelings" The more he talked the more you could sense anger in his tone "He got sooo pissed off and placed me as a sub player for today's match" he sat down and looked into your eyes in disbelief "ME A SUB PLAYER?!" He scoffed "I’m literally the star" he spat quickly grabbing the cup of water and taking a sip.

"Worst part he placed me in the last 10 minutes of the game when we were losing 1-3" he placed the cup back on the table.

"He thought I was gonna pull a hat trick of my ass and save the game, but ofc I didn’t" This time he sounded disappointed rather than mad "At the end of the game the coach scolded me for "poor performance" he quoted his words, then scoffed before leaning back against the couch.

"I felt like shit, useless" he paused "Yah Lee Minho" You grabbed his shoulder which got no reaction from him, seeing him vulnerable like this made your heart shatter in pieces. You knew how much Minho treasured soccer and the sacrifices he does for that sport, seeing him like this because of selfish people made your blood boil.

"I thought a couple shots of alcohol were going to make me feel better" he paused, silence filling the room "but it didn’t" he turned to look at you with a soft gaze, eyes threatening to shed tears as he made eye contact with yours. Soft big eyes that could hold the galaxy in them, Minho treasured them, your eyes were like the door to your soul he could tell what you were thinking by just looking at them, he admired them.

“Then I thought of you” He gave you a warm smile before softly chuckling “It instantly made me smile. So I thought I might gave you a visit” He looked around your apartment before fixing his gaze on you once again.

“It’s…” He paused choosing his words carefully “It’s been a while since I last came here” You chuckle “You are right” Deep down you knew he was trying to switch the conversation, although you wanted to comfort him you figured the best way to do it was by giving the company he needed.

“Although we don’t speak of the last time” You raised your hands in defense, it was his turn to laugh at your actions.

“Now…” You said softly “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go change. You took me by surprise” If you hadn’t pointed out that you weren’t wearing clothes but a towel Minho would’ve never noticed.

His eyes quickly glanced down, taking into his view a couple of water droplets laying down in your cleavage, your wet long hair dripping down on the couch. His eyes darkened and a shade of crimson red sparkled in his ears.

He cleared his tone “I… ummm sorry for interrupting your bath” He touch his neck in embarrassment. He opened his mouth to say something else, probably another apology so you stopped him. You placed a hand in his bicep to comfort him “Don’t worry about it, I’m here for you” You gave him the most sincere smile Minho has ever seen in his life, a shock of excitement rushing down his body to his… you know.

If you could manage to give him a boner with your smile, he can’t imagine with your body. Minho wasn’t a fan of sexualizing you, he adore you too much to not feel guilt. However he is only human after all.

“I’ll be back. Feel yourself at home” you nudge him with your elbow before getting up and disappearing to your room. He just sat there in the middle of your living room contemplating his life choices, he knew he was at a very vulnerable state, not only emotionally but also physically. He could feel the shots of vodka he took before rushing down his body. One thought let to another and that’s when he decided that if he was going to fuck it up, it was going to be tonight.

He prepared a mini speech in the back of his head, ready to blurt it out once you stepped a foot out of your room. The adrenaline sobering him up as the seconds passed by. What fell like an eternity you finally opened the door to your room, coming out in a set of black silk pijamas. He could feel his dick throbbing in his pants as he saw you walking out <Keep yourself together Minho> He mentally cursed himself.

“Sorry for the delay, I couldn’t find my fave pj’s so I had to stick with this one” you walk over to the kitchen looking for something to eat. Minho just looked at you wondering how you could be so nonchalant about it. Like it wasn’t a big deal… well… it wasn’t… but considering he was fucked up and you we wearing a set of silk pijamas the smoothly hugged your curves was making him even more insane.

“Are you craving something” You ask reaching to the top shelf in your kitchen, trying to grab your favorite snacks “I can ask delivery, I only have leftovers and-“ Your breathe hitched as you could feel his warm body behind you.

“Here” He turned you around and gave you the bag of chips you were struggling to get “T-thank you” you grabbed them and placed them in the counter next to you. However he didn’t move, your body being pressed against the counter. Although he wasn’t fully close to you, the way he looked at your lips drawn you closer to him without even noticing.

“Y/n” he placed a hand on your cheek “I… I have something I been wanting to tell you for a while now” His cheeks blushed in embarrassment, he has never confessed to anyone before and he had no idea what the outcomes could be in this situation. “I been crushing on you for a while now. I been trying to swallow my feelings but I can’t. It’s gotten to the point that I can’t look straight into your eyes cause I’m afraid I will make a mistake” He stopped to analyze your face, he looked into your eyes and found an expression he has never seen before… it was unreadable.

A knot started to form in his throat as breathing suddenly became a hard task for his body to do. You notice his body shaking and placed a hand in his chest and moved your other hand to fix his bangs “Minho… I” you laughed softly “I been feeling the same for a while now. Although I never saw you as something more than a friends, recently you been in my mind lately” The smile that adorned his face in that moment was the most stunning thing you have seen in your life. The way his eyes would wrinkle from his big grin. Minho was just to precious for you to ever harm.

Both of your bodies started to unconsciously get closer to each other like magnets, his face centimeters away from yours “Can I…” You could feel his breathe hitting your lips as he spoke, his eyes never breaking contact with yours as he placed one of his hands on your waist and the other in your hair “May I kiss you?” Something you loved about Minho was his gesture of asking for consent. You didn’t have a big dating history but the few guys you dated never asked you for permission to kiss you or anything else.

You nodded afraid that if you used your words it would expose your excitement. His lips were soft on yours, his movements delicate as if he was savoring the moment, studying every single line in your lips. A soft gasp left your lips as his tongue tapped your bottom lip asking for permission to go in.

It’s been a while since you and Minho kissed on that night, but the fact that now you were both sober… well half sober in case of Minho, however, kissing him sober felt like a whole new world. The way the butterflies erupted in your stomach and the warmth of his hand left a huge impact on your body.

As the kiss started to get more desperate more needy, Minho lifted you up and sat you on the counter, making room for his body in between your thighs. His boner slightly pressing into your pussy, A moan escape your lips in between kisses, the gripped you had in his hair tightening. He groaned as he bit your lip in lust, his eyes opening to look at your face and smile “Do you mind if I mark you” Here we go with the butterflies again, your stomach doing black flips “You can do whatever you want as long as I can do same” He smiled into your neck before biting the soft flesh, you whimper trying to hold back your moan. You were really ticklish and hated when people touched it, however, this felt different a hundred times better.

As he kept leaving wet kisses in every spot he could find. You could feel your stomach rumbling around, you tried to ignore it, however, as it progressively started to get louder you couldn’t anymore. Pushing him off slightly, cheeks burning in embarrassment “I’m hungry” you said with puppy eyes, the room bursting in laughs as his stomach proceeded to groan as well.

“Let me treat you then” He smiled as he helped you down the counter. You didn’t knew he was a great cook, the way his hands cut the vegetables in such a skillful way “You are giving Husband material right now” You joked as you continue to stare at him. He hated the way you could say such words in such a nonchalant way, not knowing the way those words impacted his body, your words going straight to his heart and down to his dick… he couldn’t help it.

He sighed as he placed the knife down looking at you, a smirk forming in his face ready to tease you “Marry me and I will show you how husband material I can be” His dark eyes never left yours, threatening you to stare away, however, you weren’t going to let him win that easily “You wish” you scoffed looking back at your phone, he chuckled “Say’s miss wet panties” You choke on your saliva at his words- how can he be this imprudent?! “Excuse me” you move your gaze back to his, the smug on his face giving you butterflies “I could feel it while we were kissing, your shorts don’t leave much to the imagination” He said as he proceeded to cut the vegetables. Your face turning crimson red as you tried to hide yourself “YAHHH” you threw a piece of potato as him, making him chuchas “Easy there princess, shouldn’t throw food at the possible father of your children” Your eyes widen… this man was really something else. You laugh “Lets not get too ahead of ourselves, you just confessed, are you still drunk?” you tease him, he hummed “I don’t know, want to test it out? See if I make any mistakes” You knew what his words meant and even though it was very tempting all you were craving right now was some good food.

The rest of the night went smoothly, both of you ate and watched shitty shows on your couch, both of your bodies cuddling under your soft blanket. Maybe this was the beginning of you adventures with Minho.

———

It’s been exactly a week since Minho asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a random Friday when you opened your locker to get your math book a letter with little cat drawings falling down to your feet. When you opened it you were greeted with Minho’s hand writing inviting you to go to the field that night.

As you walk anxiously around the field, you look around trying to spot him. Suddenly a hand grabbed yours startling you, in reflex you tried to punch whoever grabbed you but they acted on time and stopped your hand “Easy there Princess” he chuckled. Relief showered down your body as you see him laughing in front of you.

As you scolded him, he grabbed your hand and walked you through a path you have never seen before. You could see lights at the distance, curiosity rising in your head as you kept asking questions; however he never replied he just kept quiet till you reached your destination.

It was a tree house, it wasn’t too far from the field and it was hidden in the tiny forest next to the field, you have never been in one before. He grabbed your hand and told you to trust him. Once there he told you the story about the tree house and how its special to him and his family. Butterflies ran through your stomach at the thought of being the first girl he has ever brought there, it made you feel special. The house was adorned with fairy lights and comfy blankets, a bottle of wine and snacks being placed on a small table. He played your favorite movie, however, out of nowhere it started glitching and the small movie projector turned off. You sighed in disappointment, turning to see Minho. Your eyes widen and your jaw dropped as he was suddenly carrying a ring.

“M-Min… what’s this?” Your brain couldn’t process what was happening at that moment, a million thoughts running through your mind “A-“ you paused “Are you asking me to marry you?!?” Your voice increasing in a high pitch as you talk, you were scared, wasn’t it too soon?! he could see the panic in your face and decided to speak before you decided to hit and run like the first time you met.

You got pulled out of your thoughts as his laugh filled the room “No silly” he grabbed your hand and placed the ring on your finger “It’s a promise ring” He placed his hand on your cheek so your gaze was fixated on his “Every time I think of my future you are in there, and its driving me crazy to the point you won’t leave my mind” The more he spoke the more embarrassed he got, you could see the way his face turned into a light shade of red and the way his voice trembled “I know I’m being too cheesy and I can guarantee you I won’t be able to sleep in peace tonight… but you know” He took a deep breath “I will be able to sleep at peace tonight knowing that you are my girlfriend” He took a second to analyze your face before speaking again “Y/n… would you be my girlfriend?” He tilted his head and smiled, the gesture reminded you of a curious kitten and it made your heart melt. You quickly squealed and wrapped your hands behind his neck stealing a kiss from him “I hope that answer your questions” You say as your lips separate from each, just to reunited a second later. Since then everything has been going smooth, however, its been just one week so you didn’t want to jinx things.

Your doorbell rang and you opened your door to find a big teddy bear behind it.

“Surpriseeee” Minho screamed as he shoved the teddy bear to your arms “Happy one week princess” He tried to kiss you but couldn’t because of the teddy bear in between your bodies “Im gonna do a mental note to buy a smaller one next time” Both of you chuckled as you placed the bear on your living room couch.

“I didn’t knew you were coming today” You softly kiss his lips smiling “My plan was actually to take you out for dinner, but I got assigned a house project” His smile slowly faded away, disappointment taking over his tone “Soo I decided to buy you a small gift” You laugh as you stare at the big ass bear sitting on your couch, you wonder if it would fit in your bed. “I’m still mad Im trapped with the project though… it was last minute too” He cried “Worst part Is that I have to work with Angie and someone else. Working with Vanessa’s minion is definitely hell” He dramatically threw himself into your couch hugging the bear.

“Angie? Damn that’s tough” you sat on his lap and planted your face on the crook of his neck “You got this though” you left a kiss on his cheek and smiled fondly at him. “You sure know how to make my day princess” He sighed “Well I gotta go, I love you so much” He gave you a peck on your lips before exiting your apartment.

— — —

It was around 4pm when your phone started exploding with messages.

Rosie <3 : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Y/NNIE~~~

Rosie <3 : MY PRECIOUS Y/N PLEASE REPLY

Rosie <3 : BITCH IF YOU DONT ANSWER THAT GOD DAMN PHONE

Rosie <3 : WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE ONE?

What do you want? : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Would you go to Jennie’s party with me tomorrow night?!?! Pleaspkeapelaopslepalplsssss

I don’t know…. : Y/N

I made plans with Minho : Y/N

Rosie <3 : Y/N NOOOO THEY GOT YOU, I KNEW YOU ONCE YOU SHOWED ME THE RING.

Rosie <3 : BUT ITS SATURDAYYY.

Rosie <3 : ITS GIRLIES NIGHT

sigh… I will think about it : Y/N

Rosie <3 : THANK YOU LORDDD

Rosie <3 : let me know latest tomorrow afternoon

Rosie <3 : ttyl~~

Byeeeee <;3 : Y/N

You stared at your phone thinking how Minho would react if you suddenly ditch him, technically both of you planned this outing. Switching plans on him out of nowhere was definitely not looking good.

You could hear a faintly ding from your phone as you started to drift away from your sleep, eyes heavy you started to search for you phone without moving your head. You groaned as soon as you saw the time, it was already 10pm. You had no idea when you had fallen asleep, all you remembered was watching south park and eating some leftovers. As you progressively started to wake up you opened the notification that initially woke you up.

It was an unknown number and an image was attached, you raised an eyebrow in confusion as the picture started to load. Your heart dropping immediately to your stomach as you stare at the picture.

It was Minho kissing a girl. You immediately zoomed into the picture, hoping it was all a joke, however, it was not. He was wearing the same clothes he wore today, one of his hands was on the girls chest while the other grabbed her arm. You tried to figure out who was that girl in the picture, your heart dropping once again as you figure out it was Vanessa, you always thought you didn’t have to worry about her; after all Minho seemed to hate her, however, you couldn’t deny she was gorgeous. She was a straight up barbie, plus she was Minho’s ex… what if after a week of dating you he realize he loved her? that he wanted her?

Tears started falling down your cheeks, a knot forming in your throat as you desperately cried in your bed. Your phone flew away across the room as you looked at the bear he gave you “YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME” you punched the bear before throwing it across the room like your phone. You honestly couldn’t believe it yet… while you were sleeping daydreaming on your next date he was kissing some other chick. You stared at your promise ring. As much as you wanted to you couldn’t take it off, you wanted all this to be a joke a set up… but the evidence was water clear. One final tear rolled down your cheek as you took the ring off your finger, you tried to throw it in your garbage but your heart wasn’t strong enough for that, so you opt out to place it in your night table.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, hoping it was all a bad dream.

———

The next morning you are woken up by the sound of your doorbell, whoever was behind that door was definitely desperate to go in. The ringing sound embedded in your head, making you annoyed.

You look through the peephole a wave of emotions attacking you as you see who was behind that door… a knot formed in your throat and tears threatened to fall. You backed away from the door as quiet as possible, trying to make no sound so he would think you weren’t home. The audacity he had to come to your house after cheating on you last night. Maybe the project thing he mentioned you was a lame excuse to go see Vanessa.

You go back to your room ignoring the continuos ringing from the doorbell. You pick up your phone from the floor to find 100+ notifications from Minho, he probably found out he got caught and tried to explain it to you. You weren’t feeling it today, you wanted to forget everything. So you texted Rosé confirming that you were going to the party, whats the best way to fix a broken heart without alcohol?

Two hours passed and Minho finally gave up trying to contact you, he called, texted, passed letters through the opening of your door. For a moment you thought he was not giving up. You knew he left once you heard Rosé’s voice on the other side of the door, you could hear her scolding Minho; telling him to leave you alone for once. He tried to explain things to Rosé, however, she never replied to anything he said.

You got startled when you heard a knocked on your door “Y/n its me~”By the tone in her voice you knew she was trying to distract you. Her voice was sweet and playful. You opened the door to find her with food in her hand “I grabbed something to eat before coming here” She lifted the bag, a big warming smile adorning her face.

Both of you were having a good time eating the food she bought and gossiping around, it was just some quality girl time, last time you had one was a couple days before you and Minho started dating. You didn’t knew how much you missed it till now.

“I don’t really wanna touch the topic between you and that asshole” She exhaled as she thought of her words carefully “But… I think you should listen to him… I mean… he looks too heartbroken for it to be something he did willingly” She finally lifted her head to look at you “His eyes looked tired, he looked like a mess… I have never seen him like this before… He definitely did not sleep last night” She laughed softly trying to lighten the situation.

“I know… I know… but I don’t know how to feel about all this, I want to hear him out but my ego won’t let me” You sighed picking up the dirty dishes “Now lets start getting ready for tonights party, I’m trying to get white girl wasted and have fun” You laughed making Rosé laugh along with you, however, She felt uneasy… she knew how much you hated parties and every single word that just came out of your mouth, wasn’t something you would say in your daily, but she is your friend and supports you 24/7, so she got up from the couch and ran out to you “WOOOO PARTY IN THE USAAA” She screamed while jumping up and down around you.

You took a long bath, it was comforting and relaxing. The way the warm water wrapped your body, you sometimes wishes you could live in your bathtub, it was just too good to be true. You got out and checked yourself in the mirror, you felt hot. Your boobs, ass, curves, everything was perfect to your eyes. You smirked thinking that this is what Minho lost, maybe and you weren’t perfect like other girls but you loved yourself and that’s what mattered.

You grabbed a purple silk dress, it wasn’t the type of dress you would wear considering how short it was and a v neckline that punctuated your cleavage. Rosé made you bought it the moment you both saw it at a store “Save it for a special night” she teased as she brainwashed you to buy it. You never expected to use it but it was too pretty to not get it.

You wore your favorite pearl dress and some sutil earrings, you wore your favorite pair of high heels and call it a day, you came out of the bathroom Rosé’s jaw dropping as she saw you.

“GIRL” She squealed “YOU ARE TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE” She started doing a happy dance “Let me do your makeup and hair and off we go to party land” The excitement in her voice made you forget everything, Rosé was the type of person that could make you feel better in no time, you were really grateful for meeting her.

The moment both of you stepped inside the party everyone’s eyes were on you. You two shared a knowing look and dashed to the bar to get some drinks, giggles and squeaks taking over your conversation as the alcohol ran through your system. Pink Whitney was your weakness, every time you drank it you couldn’t stop, it wasn’t because it was tasty even though it tasted way better than most alcohol, but it was because it made you feel sober making you drink more, but more you drink it, the more fucked up you got.

Two hours passed and you lost track of how many shots you have chugged down, you were currently playing beer pong with Jennie and other friends when you felt the urge to use the restroom. Politely you excused yourself and walked towards the bathroom. What you saw shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did. It was Minho… kissing someone but this time it wasn’t Vanessa, it was some other girl you have never seen before. The way he pinned her against the lonely hallway and placed his knee in between her tights… the sight was enough to sober you up, your heart shattering like a crystal figure that had been slammed against a wall; you were for real done with him.

“You guys lasted more than I imagined” Her voice drew shivers down your spine, you turn to face her, trying to hide your tears “Me and my girls bet that you guys would last 2 days” She laughed looking at you, you felt pathetic “Don’t feel bad though, he is a fuck boy he is meant to play with girls” She faked a pout and caressed your hair “Vanessa, I don’t know whats your deal but leave me alone” You unintentionally raised your voice catching Minho’s and the other girl attention.

“Shit” Minho mumbled under his breath “Y/n wait” he said as you started running away from there, he tried to follow behind you but was stopped by the girl he was kissing, Vanessa turned around to look at your figure disappear between all the bodies, a smirk adorning her face.

You cleaned your tears before telling Rosé that you were calling it a day, you didn’t want to ruin her fun so you didn’t mention the incident. As you walked out of the party you crashed into someone, your eyes widening.

“Mr Hyunjin?” You said in surprise, he chuckled at you “Hey y/n, leaving already?” He looked stunning, his long blond hair and casual attire gave you butterflies, you were used to see him in his typical teacher attire, at some point you thought he had no fashion taste by the way he dressed but now you understood that just his class attire. “Yeah…” You softly exhaled trying to hide your disappointment “May I ask why you are at a student party” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity, the sight making him laugh “Jennie and me went to the same high school, we are really close friends. However due to early degree, I have to keep it professionally” The smile in his face never faded away as he talked “Do you mind telling me how you got your teaching degree that fast?” He laughed again at your curiosity he find it really cute “Sure, but its a long story, why don’t we go somewhere else to talk?” That was an offer you couldn’t deny, specially tonight.

He knew he had no right to be jealous right now, but seeing you walk away with Hyunjin made his blood boil. He carefully followed you guys to a cafe. He sat far enough for you guys not to notice him but close enough to see the way you would laugh at his jokes, how you would often touch him here and there and the glances he would give your chest while you laughed.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the jealousy that ran through his body, but the moment you excused yourself to the bathroom he found himself walking towards Hyunjin.

He was sketching something on a napkin when Minho grabbed his shoulder giving it a squeeze “Took you long enough” He said nonchalantly as he kept drawing, not bothering to turn around to see Minho “You and your pretty mouth, you swear you are better than everyone” He groaned gaining a laugh from Hyunjin “I don’t think I’m better than everyone” he paused to look at Minho “I just think Im better than you” His smirk was Minho’s last stroke, he lifted his fist ready to punch him when Hyunjin catch it “I gave you time to not mess it up, but you are Lee Minho” His face didn’t have an expression at all, Minho couldn’t understand how he was so well collected while he threw poison at his face.

“I always knew about your little crush on her. I sacrificed my feelings for you, cause I’m a teacher and I need to keep things professional. However, I’m not gonna let you hurt her. I know how hard it was for her to be the person she is now, I’m not letting you ruin that” He started to squeeze his fist and aggressively moved it out of his face. Minho stood there dumbfounded at Hyunjin’s confession.

Minho and Hyunjin had a complex background story, they both met at summer dancing camp. Although both had so much in similar they never clicked, often turning everything into a competition. When he went to college and found out he was one of the architecture teachers he felt sick to his stomach. Hyunjin and him had a gap of 3 years, how come he already be a teacher when he was just starting a carrier. This only made Minho more jealous.

His thoughts were interrupted when Hyunjin spoke again “She is coming, you have the option to leave or face the reality” He smirked once again as he saw the troublesome look in his face, however what he didn’t expect was a tear to run down his cheek “Please take care of her” He said in defeat, a faint smile painted on his face.

Now this was something Hyunjin never expected from Minho, he knew him as the guy who would fight against him till the last breath, seeing him this vulnerable broke something inside him. “Sorry I took so long” You said as you sat down on your seat.

“Minho you idiot” he cursed to himself, so low you couldn’t hear it, at least you didn’t catch on it. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration.

You were confused as to why you were walking towards the field with Hyunjin, he said he had something to show you, however, there was nothing to see when you were there. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his chest “I know I’m your teacher and this is wrong even though we both adults” He spat as he stared deeply into your eyes “But please concede me one kiss” He looked at you almost begging.

You look down at his lips, you would lie if you said it wasn’t tempting to steal a kiss from them… however it felt wrong and not because he was your teacher but because of Minho. You couldn’t believe yourself after all he did to you, but something deep inside you still believed in him.

While you seemed to be caught in thoughts, Hyunjin spotted Minho behind you staring at the two of you, no expression in his face, however his eyes were dark and his hands were pressed against each other.

Hyunjin smirked and got closer to you, Minho doing the same, Hyunjin knew what he was doing, his plan was to provoke him. Fight for you.

He wrapped a hand around your waist making you gasp in surprise “Hyunjin” you said softly “Shhh just play along” He whispered against your ear, you couldn’t tell why he was doing this until he spoke again “He is watching” You immediately understood what he was doing, you smiled at him “I will” Hyunjin was left dumbfounded at your words “I will kiss you” You finished, he looked at your eyes in panic “Y/n you don-“ His words were interrupted as you planted a kiss in his lips, they were just as soft as Minho’s but maybe a little bigger, however, the sensation didn’t even compared to Minho’s.

A hand grabbed your arm and snatched you out of his grip. “Minho” You said as you panted. “So you decided to fight” Hyunjin smiled proudly “Go ahead and don’t mess it up” He said nonchalantly as he walked away, leaving you alone in Minho’s arms.

It was a chilly night, the breeze hovering over your bodies. Both of you stood there without saying a single word to each other. His body was tense just as yours was. Should you be the first one to talk, tears starting to form in your eyes. He could hear you sniffing so he turned you around to face him.

He had an angry expression in his face which pissed you off but also made you feel guilty “I know I have no right to be jealous or mad right now” He finally spoke looking into your eyes “But I would be lying if I said im not mad or jealous right now” He got closer to you “Y/n… the picture they sent you last night was a set up…” He began to explain “I was doing the project when she came, she tricked me, I was trying to pull away but Jesus Christ she has a strong grip” You lowly chuckled at the playful tone on his last phrase “However today… I did kiss that girl willingly” Your heart once again dropping to your stomach “I was drunk, which is no excuse I know, but I was trying to forget everything. I was trying to forget the fact that I had lost you because of the plan Vanessa set up” He paused, his heart broking as he saw your eyes full of tears, your head staring down at the grass “I was on my 15th shot of the night, when the girl approached me… her scent reminded me of yours. Levanter and Vanilla” He whispered “One thing led to another… Im sorry” He started to cry “I’m so stupid… Im sorry” He kneeled in front of you crying.

You didn’t knew what to exactly do in that moment, forgive him? Comfort him? Leave him there? Screamed at him? You wanted to do all of those options but you didn’t have the heart to do any of those.

“L-let’s go to my apartment” Although you felt you were going to regret it, it was the only thing that crossed your head “Don’t think anything about it, Im just getting chilly” You extended your hand to grabbed his.

The walk to the apartment was silent from somehow comforting, you opened the door and led him inside. He sat on your couch while you brought a bottle of vodka. “You trying to poison me?” He said playfully trying to lift up the mood, however you weren’t feeling it “If we are going to talk I need to take few shots first”

———

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation “Teasing me with this little dress” He slid a hand up your dress and played with the band of your panties “You knew what you were doing every time you bend and moved sensually whenever I was near” He whispered in your ear, gently nibbling it. “Minho” You called out his name softly, his lips interrupting yours with a kiss. It was hungry and lustful, wet noises from the kiss hovering all over the room. Last thing you remembered was shoving down a shot of vodka before kissing him and now you were here.

He was on top of you in your bed, your hands pinned down as he kissed your body up an down. The faint light of your fairy lights being the only source of light in the room. His knee was firm against your pussy, your dress rolled up with all the movement. “You look so pretty” He almost moaned at the sight. Your messy hair, your legs exposed, your white panty on full display, and the way your dress struggled to cover your tits. Minho was drunk in you, he wanted to drink you dry. “We have made a lot of mistakes tonight…” he said in between kisses “Please lets make one that we won’t regret” moved to kiss your neck, softly biting it leaving faint marks in it “Fuck” you gasped in delight “Minho do whatever you want, any mistake I do with you ends up being the best” You could feel his smirk growing against your neck.

Next thing you felt was his nose pressed against your clothed clit, you moaned gripping his hair, he laughed “Patience princess, I want to take my time with you” He kissed your inner thighs up and down, kissing everywhere around but where you wanted him the most.

You felt shameless as you lifted your hips trying to find some type of friction. He just giggled before taking off your panties painfully slow. The cold breeze blew against your pussy making you whimper “Fuck I love it when you whimper” He placed his face closer to your pussy and blew gently on it, mesmerized by the way he impacted your body.

The feeling was mutual though, you could see the way his pants tighten the more he got aroused. Once his tongue was playing with your clit you lost it. It felt like you were on the clouds, his tongue was soft a warm, the slurping noises making you even more aroused. He grabbed your free hand and intertwined it with yours. His thumb caressing your hand as a gesture of comfort. You loved this man so much he didn’t understand.

With his other hand he slowly started stretching you out, one finger, two fingers, three… you gasped, body lifting up as he added a fourth finger. He kissed your cunt and your inner thighs trying to soothe you. “You got this princess” He slowly started to pump in and out of you, being as careful as he could, not wanting to hurt you in any way.

You threw your head back as you could feel your high approaching, moans getting louder and louder by the second. Minho closed his eyes and hummed in delight, his mouth attaching once again to your clit, listening to your pretty moans like it was his favorite song “Min-Minho” You breath hitched as you couldn’t hold back anymore “Go ahead Princess, show me how well I treat you” You came all over his finger and face, your face crimson red as you rode out of your high, embarrassment showering you over.

You could hear his soft chuckle as he kissed you, his tongue dancing with yours. You could savior yourself through his tongue. He sat you down as he glare at you, eyes dark in lust. A whimpered left your lips as he sucked the same fingers that were inside you, sucking them dry in front of you not breaking eye contact. “Fuck you taste so sweet” He was driving you insane. You moved towards him, taking what was left of you dress, your boobs falling free. You could see him salivate over them as he stared at them shamelessly.

“You have no idea how many times I have pictured you naked” He said groping your boob, his finger flickering your nipple. You couldn’t hold it anymore, your hand traveling to his belt, taking it out in a split of a second. Your hand unzipping his jeans as he helps you get rid of them.

You could see his dick through his boxers, a stain of pre cum visible at the tip, you leaned to his stomach and planted few kisses. His whimpers were a melody to your brain.

Removing his boxers, his dick sprung free, you leaned down to give the tip few kitten licks, teasing his slit while applying pressure to it. He groaned as he tightly tugged your hair. A moan escaping your mouth sending vibrations down his dick.

“Fuck… Princess… I don’t think I can resist if you continue” His voice was unstable as he tried to form words inside his head “Please let me fuck you” You raised your face to look at him, smiling as you kiss him wrapping your hands around his neck “I should be the one begging you” You tease, gaining a scoff from him.

He stood up to pick up his pants in search of a condom “Fuck” he closed his eyes, he gave the one he had to a friend who needed it at the party, he turned around to you disappointed “It will be another night Princess… I don’t have one on me right now” His voice was soft and filled with disappointment.

“Fuck me raw” He turned to face you, looking at your innocent face like you hadn’t just spilled one of the most lustful thing. You bat your lashes at him as you sat down like an obedient puppy in front of him. You tilted your head “If you want ofc, I’m under birth control” The way his cock throbbed at your words drove him crazy.

In a split of a second he was on top of you again, his mouth playing with your nipples as he teased the tip of his dick in your folds, he rub small circles around your clit with his tip, drops of pre cum falling down your folds. “Minho please just fuck me” You cried “I always forget you are impatient Princess” He chuckled, sending vibrations down your stomach. The pool of butterflies you were feeling at that moment. You were willing to forget everything that has happened in the past just to have him next to you every day.

He slowly started stretching your cunt with his tip, you groaned in pain, the fingers definitely did not prepared you well to take him in.

Once he was fully in he waited for your sign to keep going. A soft whimper leaving your mouth as you gave him the green light. He started slowly pumping in and out of you carefully.

As he started to feel pleasure as well he couldn’t help but fasten his pace, your eyes fully cloth as you moaned his name “Bet Hyunjin wouldn’t make you feel like this” You don’t where this is coming from but you like the way he talked dirty “Neither any other bitch could take my cock the way your cunt does” He placed his face in the crook of your neck panting. Shivers rolling down your spine “Fuck. The way your cunt squeezes my cock” He threw his head back in pleasure “Let me fuck you like you’re mine” He reposition himself, a hand next to your head while with the other he applied slight pressure on your neck.

He stopped thrusting you, gaining a moan of complain “Princess if you want me to continue I need you to look at me while I fuck you” You could feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment, although you were desperate. You nodded at his command and he continue with his task. His fast pace, the pressure on your neck and his dark eyes piercing yours, it was all too overwhelmed to handle, tears falling down your eyes as you moan.

Seeing you in this state made Minho crazy, you were like this because of him. His cock starting throbbing inside you as you started to uncontrollably squeeze him “Fuck Princess” He moved his hand from your neck “Min” You gasped for air “Im close” You cried out as you grabbed his hair and pulled him for a kiss. “Lets cum together then” he whispered in your ear, he moved his hand to your clit and started rubbing circles in it, while his pace started to move faster. You moaned in his ear as he felt your cum washing over his cock and spilling down your bed sheets. You knee he was close when his thrust became sloppy and he started to slow down, he was about to pull out to cum im your chest when you stopped him “Please breed me” You begged in his ear, he came almost automatically, his seed spreading in your inside “I hope your birth control doesn’t work” He said as he rode out of his high, his cock softening inside of you.

He wrapped you in a warm hug “I’m going to clean everything and then leave, you need space to think” You were disappointed at his words, although you did needed to think things over, you didn’t want to think now. You grabbed his arm “Please stay tonight…” you say softly afraid to be rejected “You can leave in the morning, but please don’t leave when Im sleeping” You mumbled as you cuddled on his chest. He chuckled softly while he played with your hair “If you say so… If it was up to me, I wouldn’t leave your side eve again” With that both of you closed your eyes and drifted to a peaceful sleep.

———

A month passed and you and Minho were keeping things as friends. After all the drama that happened both of you agreed to be friends again before trying things out again. Although it was hard to keep things friendly when you had a bunch of friends who would constantly tease you. At parties they would put both of you in situations were you had to kiss each other for a dare or go in a small closet for 7 minutes. Childish games that you never thought you would be playing in college. Everything seemed to be good, Minho got a restraining order for Vanessa, she had no other choice but to transfer colleges. The pissed off face she had the day you said bye to her was definitely the highlight of the year. Although her friends apologized to you, you didn’t want to know anything about them so you agree with them to forget about each others existence.

As to Hyunjin, he started dating Rosé, it was the biggest plot twist of you life “The moment I saw him at the party I was on my knees” She squealed as she hugged a pillow “And he is a teacher…” You widen your eyes <It can’t be…> You thought as you waited for her to spill the name “Mr Hwang Hyunjin” She moaned taking you by surprise “SO HOT” She pretended to faint dramatically in your bed, making you die of laughter. Gosh you loved that woman so much.

Life was good although it felt incomplete, yeah Minho was your friend but you wanted him to be more than that, however, you didn’t want to rush things so you decided to give it time. Wait for the perfect timing to come.

———

“Nice game Lee Minho” You tease as you hug him “Thank you thank you miss y/n” He chuckled “I scored all my goals in your name, so we can say this was a two person job” You laugh at his words “How considerate of you” You faked an awe face and laughed. It was the end of the autumn sports season, Minho and his team won states and everyone was celebrating “Shouldn’t you be there celebrating? you were the mvp” You raised an eyebrow looking at him “Nah… I rather stay here and watch the sunset with you” You looked at him in admiration, even though he was all sweaty and messy you couldn’t help but find him hot “I love this field” You say out of nowhere. He turned to face you, intrigued by your words.

“Most of our adventures occurred here” You laugh at your cheesy words cringing at yourself, however, to Minho your words got to him, his eyes fixated on your smile as you stare vaguely at the sunset.

His lips soft against yours, his hand on your waist while the other is in your hair “Min-” you said surprised as you broke the kiss “Is it too soon if I ask you if I can be your boyfriend” Butterflies rushed to your stomach at his words, your cheeks matching the pink tone on his.

You kissed him and smiled through the kiss, breaking the kiss once again to stare into his brown eyes “I hope that answers your question” You both smile and stay there in silence appreciating each others company while the sun slowly disappeared through the landscape of the field.

——————————————————————

Authors Note: Let me know if you guys find any typos, I didn’t spell check most of the fic and I wrote most of it at 2am, Also suggestions are appreciated 🙏

Hope you guys enjoyed~

[wonusite]

nalani im in need of some sexy cheol smut 🧎🏻‍♀️

okay so i kind of got carried away bc i started thinking about sugar daddy!cheol who’s lowkey obsessed with the cute little college intern that works at his company. lmk what you think 🤭

from the moment seungcheol saw you, he knew he had to have you.

his need for you increases a tenfold when he hears what a good job you’re doing and how diligent and punctual you are. cheol starts coming around your area more—much to his subordinates’ distress. like they’re so tense when he comes around bc sure he’s a nice guy, but he’s ridiculously rigid and strict. and you’re no exception bc you’ve heard all about his demand for perfection.

except when he comes around to your desk, pretty smile in place, you seem to forget every single warning your coworkers have said to you. seungcheol is interested in your opinions and input, telling you how nice it is to have such a fresh perspective. his attention makes you feel proud and shy all at the same time, but you’re forced to get used to it bc he starts coming around a lot more.

it’s hard for seungcheol to control his desire for you. all he wants to do is make you his and have you on his arm at all times, but he knows he has to play it cool since you’re one of his employees. still, he can’t not spoil and dote on you. it’s just not in his nature.

especially when he finds out you take the bus and sometimes uber to work. he can’t stand the thought of pretty little you riding around in public transportation with your cute skirts and blouses. so one afternoon he calls you in his office and offers you a key to a brand new car. when you laugh off his very serious words, he has to laugh it off too. clearly, he would have to take smaller steps with you.

at least you accept to have his secretary take you and from work.

it doesn’t end there, though. he always offers to buy the office lunch since he knows you’d feel some sort of way if he only bought you lunch. if cheol orders in, he makes sure to get plenty of what you like. if he decides to take everyone out to a restaurant, he makes sure to sit next to you.

admittedly, you love his attention. it’s so flattering that such a smart, handsome man has taken in interest in you no matter how small. what you don’t realize is that his interest is anything but small.

you realize this when you find out that the rest of your tuition has been paid in full.

when you confront your boss, he doesn’t deny it. seungcheol just casually raises an eyebrow, asking why it was so wrong of him to help such a deserving woman like yourself. you’re so flustered that you can’t think straight. he goes on to say that this is only the beginnings of his displays of affections.

suddenly, you start getting bouquets of flowers every week, along with expensive skin care and perfumes. then, that turns into designer clothing and shoes that somehow fit you perfectly. you’d be lying if you say you didn’t love it, but you know you have to put an end to it.

“the clothes aren’t to your taste.” seungcheol muses with a thoughtful nod after you place the bags on his desk one morning. “very well. i’ll let you pick what you want from now on.”

you almost collapse when he holds out his black card for you to take. as you start to splutter about why you can’t accept it, he cuts you off with his soft yet firm voice.

“let me take you out. three times. after that, if you want me to leave you alone, i will.”

it’s like a dream when you spend time with him. seungcheol is much more than a cold, rich man who has more power than anyone you know. he’s thoughtful, kind, and a genuine person. by the end of the first date, you know you won’t be able to stop seeing him.

so you suddenly have a new car, a new luxury apartment, and an entire new wardrobe. your nights are suddenly filled with excitement, always going to places you could’ve only dreamed of. it’s all like a fantasy to you, especially because the most seungcheol has done is kiss your cheek or the back of your hand.

until one night when he’s stressed and you insist that he lets you help him take the edge off.

“daddy!” you cry out as seungcheol pounds into your hot cunt from behind.

“fuck, princess.” cheol groans gutturally as he watches your ass recoil against his pelvis. he slaps your ass and roughly kneads it, loving how the flesh feels in his palms. “love this pretty ass and your tight little pussy.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues to ram his thick cock into your sweet spot. his heavy balls hit your clit with every thrust, and the stimulation finally pushes you over the edge. you come with a loud moan, staining his thick cock with your orgasm.

“louder, princess.” cheol grips your hips and pounds into you harder. “i want the entire building to hear you moaning for me.”

“stuff me full of your cum, daddy!” you cry out wantonly, his thrusts quickly pushing you into another orgasm. “want you to fill me up!”

you’re abruptly flipped over, legs hooked on seungcheol’s broad shoulders as he starts to drill into you harder and faster. you’re tightening around his cock so much that he can hear a wet plop sound every time he fucks his cock back into you.

“come for me again, princess. come on daddy’s cock while he fucks a baby into this sweet cunt.”

when seungcheol bites down on your neck, you both come violently. thick ropes of hot cum paint your gummy walls, coating every part of you in his essence. you’re mewling as cheol licks and bites at your sensitive flesh. his hips keep moving, fucking his cum deeper inside you.

his lips meet yours for a messy kiss, addicted to the way your cunt keeps sucking him in. he groans into your mouth. “feels like you want more cum from the way you're squeezing me.”

“please, daddy.” you beg against his lips. “keep fucking your cum into me. want to be full of you always.”

seungcheol goes feral with your pleas. he wraps your legs around his waist, drilling his still-hard cock into you again. he watches, satisfied, as your eyes roll back while your mouth drops open in pleasure. his heavy balls smack your ass loudly as he splits you open on his cock. each thrust is getting harder as he chases his second orgasm.

“gonna fuck you full of my cum all night, baby. not gonna stop until you’re pretty little pussy is full of me.”

[mysewingadventures]

Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 1/4)

Shoot, it's been like two years since I last posted, apologies! I’ve been incredibly busy with uni and life in general, taking care of my mental health, it’s just been a very stressful time lately. I haven't really worked on anything worthy of posting in the meantime, only minor things and one dress I rushed and it didn't turn out well anyway. But, since Halloween is coming up and I don’t feel like wearing the same thing for the third time in a row, I thought it was the perfect excuse to try and make something new and the other day at 2am I fell down a rabbit hole and came up with an idea I’m completely obsessed with.

So recently, (in case you couldn't tell by the title haha) I’ve been really into Interview with the Vampire (the TV show), and there’s this one costume that’s so iconic it immediately caught my attention: This Lestat outfit.

I feel like since this blog isn't fandom related I need to explain myself to those of you who are just semi-familiar with IWTV. Maybe you know Lestat as essentially the villain of the story and are wondering why on earth I'd want to make an outfit inspired by him. The answer is quite simple and not actually deep at all: I just thought it'd be a fun project. I'm very well aware of his personality and would not want to be in the same room as him in real life haha. But he's such an interesting character to watch on screen (they all are, in my opinion). Anyways-

This outfit is from a scene that takes place in the 1790s and now, I’m unfortunately not too versed in men’s fashion so I can’t quite comment on its historical accuracy (and also it’s worn in the context of a theater performance so it’s bound to be more flashy than what people would have worn on the streets), but the way the lapel is shaped just screams redingote to me, and since I've always wanted to make a redingote I'm going to make a redingote version of the costume!

For reference, here's what a c. 1790 redingote looks like:

This one has a normal button closure but redingotes were also often double-breasted (which is what I'm going for), taking inspiration from men's fashion. These were often worn to ride in - hence the name, redingote - riding coat.

Maybe this is the point where I should mention that I'm not going for perfect historical accuracy for this project. It really is just a fun project to try to approximate something as seen on a show to an actual historical piece of clothing.

Here’s a super quick sketch I drew to check if the colors looked good together, and I have to say, I’m sold 1000%.

I am so excited to wear this when it’s done, but also a bit anxious because for starters, I’ve never made a redingote before, and the dresses that I have made all have issues with the sleeves because apparently, I can’t sew sleeves correctly. So this time, I really want to make sure it all fits properly before I sew it and take my time with it to make sure it ends up being something that I love as much as I love the idea of it.

This time, I tried something a little different with my mockup - usually, I’ll draft a pattern on paper, then cut out my mockup and sew it, but this time I decided to make the mockup by draping the fabric directly on the mannequin that I dressed in my stays and a bumroll, making sure I had the correct measurments, and it was a complete gamechanger. It fit right away with minimal adjustments, and I was also immediately able to check how the fabric falls, if it needed to be on the bias or not, etc. I ended up doing everything on straight grain which is technically not 100% correct as the front piece needs to be on a slight bias but it seems to work for this piece so let’s hope the fabric doesn’t wrinkle! I’ll also be adding boning so I’m hoping that’ll additionally keep it all straight and even in the front.

Once the mockup was completed, I went on the search for the right fabrics and got these (the skirt fabric, the buttons and the tape I ordered online and they've yet to arrive!):

The black base fabric and the blue one are cotton, as will be the skirt. The details are satin! I spent a long time at the fabric store trying to think of the best way to do this and it does look like the details on Lestat's outfit are maybe velvet, but I was afraid it would look a little too costume-y and cheap, so I ended up going with satin in the end.

I pinned the fabric mock-up onto the lining fabric (just a white Ikea bedsheet), added 1,5cm seam allowances where needed cut out the lining first, then placed the lining onto the black base fabric and cut that out as well.

I needed to lay the pieces down this way because I bought 2,5 meters, and I'll need 2m for the outer skirt alone so there's not a lot of space left, as I'll also have to cut out the sleeves from that fabric. I then sewed everything together.

And then I noticed I'd made a mistake - the lining for the front panel was supposed to be blue. Welp, now it's white, and I also realized I didn't have enough blue fabric to do the collar AND the lining, so I went for a fake lining for which I cut out two blue triangles to be slightly bigger than the lapel

and stitched them to the lining layer so the seams wouldn't be visible on the black outer layer. This was the result:

Pretty happy with it! Next up, even though I don't have the beige tape yet, I decided to cut out the color panels in the front and already pin them down. After some trial and error, I decided to go for 15x4,5cm triangles and calculated the size needed for the shorter ones (9x7,5cm), cut them out of the satin (which, let me tell you, was so finicky it ended up being the most difficult part of it all) laid them down and fastened with pins.

This is what I have so far:

Looking at it in the picture, I'm worried that the color panels take up too much space in the front. It looks like that in the original picture, but in my sketch I made everything a little narrower. But I was also scared of pulling on it too much because the panels are just pinned to the fabric. Some parts are sticking out over the black base layer which maybe also makes it look wider than it really is, I'll cut it to shape once I have the tape and have a better visual understanding of what it's going to look like.

Next up will be the collar/yoke and the dreaded sleeves and possibly the boning. I should do the boning before I attach the beige tape. I am realizing as I’m writing this that I should’ve done the boning before pinning down the colored panels as they’re supposed to cover it. Oh well. It’s fine. Either way, I think it already looks super cool and I can't wait to see the finished product!

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4|

[magickman1234]

Just Enjoy Yourself pt 1

You got a bit fat over your last vacation. Your last couple months of work were rough and you took to eating out and a bit of partying to cope. Your waistline spread a bit. Your girlfriend told you were just thick now so you ignored the effects of your new habits. A plan cruise trip with friends from college was your downfall. Your sweet girlfriend reminder you to “just enjoy yourself” when you told her you were feeling fat. She kissed you and fondled your lovehandles “I told you all that happens is your curves get curvier. You’re just my thick babe. You’ve earned some cutting loose!” Her grin of excitement escapes her a moment but you forget about it you need to pack.

Your college friends have gotten huge! They insist on hitting up the buffets partying and taking advantage of food being all inclusive on the cruise. Your tiny compared to them now even with your bit of weight and honestly they’re just fun so you really cut loose and remember your love of sweets and see food. You try to direct things to something other than food but you fail. Nearly everywhere on the ship seems to offer pizza, burgers, pasta, tacos, and desserts without measure. There’s next to no need to exercise and you can feel yourself melting and growing. Your tummy starts to hang over your two piece bathing suit and the top starts to dig into your back. Slipping back into your clothes is awkward though. Your belly seems to just keep sneaking free and your thighs barely fit your shorts. You are stuck with your skirts and dresses to feel comfortable. You can just feel your middle slowly push forward and your walk feels looser and heavier. You do your best to ignore it. The overindulgence seems to be your friends only goals on the trip. They’re already so fat you still feel tiny and honestly they don’t dress modestly at all to your shock. Your light wiggle as you walk isn’t as noticeable as their gelatinous wobble. Even as you start to outgrow your clothes a bit you feel like a twig next to them. You find yourself lapsing into a denial based on “well as long as I don’t take it as far as them I’ll be fine” mentality even as you get so close to keeping up with them. Even as you start to have to wear a loose blouse with pajama bottoms that stretch or your bikini or your loosest dress you tell yourself “I’m fine as long as I don’t get as fat as them” instead of stopping.

Getting home is shocking because you’re now basically a different shape you’ve put on so much weight. Like two weeks cruises are a danger when you were a bit snug in your clothes to begin with. Your tummy is just so awkwardly prominent and your hips and thighs are so fat and heavy. You can’t properly fit anything now and your tops are all crop tops or midriffs now. Your stomach is so round too and hangs a bit.

What’s weird though is the way your girlfriend looks at you now. She’s always been clearly attracted to you and you’ve been curvy which she clearly likes but her eyes are so hungry. She can barely control yourself around you now and despite her being very respectful she is touching you a lot. Like not realizing it even. Pats or slaps to your ass go up as well as unconscious pats or gropes of your hips or thighs. Your tummy as well. She’s always love your stomach and finds bellybuttons cute. It’s weird but in a good way but she’s taken to not just touching your middle but groping it. Sometimes she pokes you right in the middle when it pokes out of your tops and aims for your bellybutton. She never does it in public but she will sometimes unconsciously leave one or both of her hands rested in your stomach in particular if she hugs or holds you from behind. You notice you’re already doing that when you still it’s just…comfortable?

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 5/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: the day you're tying the knot with your very dear friend, Kiyoomi word count. 2.1k cw. marriage pact au a/n. another update! I'm happy that I can update this story quickly. Writing this is really fun for me hehe <3

Masterlist

Not long after you and Sakusa discussed your plans, you both decided to share the exciting news of your upcoming marriage with your families and closest friends. The reactions were nothing short of dramatic. You think it’s a mix of shock at how quickly you both decided to tie the knot and genuine happiness for you. Some of them called you immediately, the most popular question being, “How did this happen so fast?!” So, you shared the love story you and Sakusa have crafted together. Some responded with a knowing “I knew it!” claiming they had a gut feeling you’d end up together. You just laughed at their responses, finding it amusing because there was no way they could have predicted this—both of you were truly just friends before. Your psychology textbook was right about hindsight bias.

Since the wedding is simple and you both hired a wedding organizer to handle most of the planning, there isn’t much left for you to do except look for your wedding dress. You also chose your bridesmaids. At first, you want four people as your bridesmaid, including Tami. Unfortunately, Tami is incredibly busy this month with business trips. Even Tami, who knows all your plans, was surprised. She didn’t expect your wedding to be held in the second month of the year. You explained it’s because you both want to do this before the volleyball season starts. Luckily, she doesn’t have any plans on your wedding day and assured you she would attend. Therefore, the people you chose as your bridesmaids are two of your cousins, Yuuki and Nana, and one of your childhood friends from home, Aya. They’re all thrilled to be part of your special day.

Today is the day you choose your wedding dress, just two weeks away from your wedding day. You actually have a lot of fun looking up wedding dress inspiration. Weddings used to make you kind of emotional when you were a teenager and a hopeless romantic. But then, as an adult with a hectic life, you weren’t really expecting a wedding for yourself. Yet here you are now, somehow able to have one. So, you’ll enjoy this process as a gift to your teenage self.

It’s Saturday, and you’re glad that everyone is available. All of you have a group chat discussing the stores you’ll visit. So, you go through those stores, seeing the dresses they display online, trying some of them on, and deciding which one is the best. After a few stores and trying on more than ten dresses, one dress stands out. It’s a classic and elegant gown with a fitted bodice and a full ball gown skirt. It features a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. The skirt is made of layers of tulle and organza, giving it volume and a fairytale-like look. The back of the dress is adorned with covered buttons and a long flowing train, adding dramatic flair.

Your three companions seem to have the same thought as you. Nana even starts to shed tears, making the other two emotional as well. You turn to look at them and can’t help but feel a bit emotional yourself. “Guys, please don’t cry! You’ll make me cry,” you say. You stare at your reflection in the mirror and feel a sense of enchantment and awe. This is the dress, you think.

In the days leading up to your wedding, you frequently communicate with Kiyoomi, juggling to find time between your work and his practice. You handle some legal matters and move many of your belongings from your apartment to his, leaving only the essentials for the remaining days. This often brings you to his apartment, where you arrange your things with him, assisted by people from the furniture moving and rearrangement services you hired. Some furniture is no longer needed, so you sell those pieces.

Two days before the wedding, you arrive home after work and are suddenly overwhelmed by an indescribable feeling. You've already finished some of your project-based side jobs, giving you more spare time than usual. Your apartment, now mostly empty, feels strange, as most of your belongings have already been moved to Kiyoomi’s place.

Your phone vibrates, and you see new texts from Kiyoomi. He sends a picture of a painting you made on a medium-sized canvas that used to hang in your living room. Initially, you wanted to leave it behind, thinking you had already brought too much. But when Kiyoomi visited your apartment, he asked about the painting and suggested it would look great in "our" living room, meaning his apartment where you will soon move in. The picture he sent shows the painting now hanging in the living room. His next text asks, ‘Is this too far to the right?’ You examine the photo and find the painting perfectly centered, so you respond, ‘no! it’s perfect.’

You then realize that you feel a swirl of excitement and nervousness, as the reality of starting a new chapter in your life and leaving behind the familiar truly sinks in.

For this wedding, there were no pre-wedding events like engagement parties or bridal showers. As agreed upon, the entire event was to be simple. There was no honeymoon planned either. When some of your cousins inquired, you explained that you both wanted to wait for a better season and were eager to enjoy your newlywed life in your own home.

The sound of your alarm wakes you up, and you look around the unfamiliar bed, momentarily confused. Then it hits you—you’re not in your apartment but in the hotel of your wedding venue. The bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, and some family members are also staying here. And, of course, Kiyoomi, too. Shaking off the sleepiness, you decide to take a shower and call room service for breakfast. 

Checking your phone, you see a few messages from family and friends who have arrived in town, expressing their excitement to see you later. You smile, responding to each message with heartfelt gratitude. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your hotel room door. Expecting it to be your bridesmaids or parents, you open it and are surprised to see Kiyoomi’s mother standing there. She looks at you and smiles warmly. Bowing slightly, you welcome her into your room, mentioning that you’ve just finished breakfast and inviting her to sit beside you. 

Unexpectedly, she wraps you in a warm and comforting hug. Taken aback for a moment, you quickly return the hug. Then she looks at you, caresses your hair, and holds your hand. Her gaze is soft and carries warmth.

“I want to tell you how grateful I am to have you joining our family,” she says, her voice filled with genuine emotion. You look at her, your mind blank, unable to find the words to respond. She continues, “You remember you used to come to our house, right?” 

You nod, the memories flooding back. You recall the nostalgia of your high school days, when you often visited Kiyoomi’s house with Komori. Kiyoomi’s mom was always more outgoing than Kiyoomi and his father, often inviting you over for dinner. You usually brought your homework along, finishing it with Kiyoomi at their kitchen table.

“I’ve admired you since then,” she says. “I know we haven’t seen each other much since you both graduated high school, but I’ve always known you will leave a lasting impact on Omi's life. I often asked him about you, you know?” She laughs, a light, joyful sound.

You smile at her words, touched by her sincerity. “I’m happy that you’ve always stayed in touch with each other. And I was overjoyed when I heard the news. I’m just... I’m glad it’s you. You complement each other so beautifully, and I couldn't be happier to see my son marry such an incredible person.”

She pauses, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Know that you have my unwavering support, love, and respect. I look forward to many happy moments together as a family.”

Tears well up in your eyes at her genuine words. “Thank you so much for your kind words. They mean a lot to me,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

You hug her, feeling the warmth and acceptance in her embrace. She holds you tightly, then pulls back slightly to look at you. “Please call me Mom, okay?”

You nod, a tearful smile on your face.

After she leaves your room, you're left with your thoughts. You feel a wave of gratitude for Kiyoomi’s supportive mother, but a tinge of guilt also lingers. You and Kiyoomi had to fabricate your love story, making it seems like you are deeply in love. It feels wrong that she believes you and Kiyoomi are head over heels for each other. However, you genuinely care, adore and respect him as a friend. You promise yourself that you’ll hold onto these feelings throughout your marriage.

As the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the bustling city, you stand by the window, taking in the view of the skyline. Nana, Yuuki, and Aya bustle around your hotel room, helping with the final touches on your wedding gown. You opted to do your makeup yourself, choosing a natural and fresh look, and now, as you gaze into the mirror, you feel satisfied with the result. Aya hands you your bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus. Your wedding photographer snaps a few photos of you and your bridesmaids before it's time to head downstairs.

You hear the sound of laughter and chatter from the poolside area of the hotel, where everyone’s waiting. Stepping outside, you take in the beautiful wedding venue. At one end of the pool, a stunning gazebo draped in sheer white fabric and entwined with ivy and blooming flowers serves as the altar. The aisle leading to the gazebo is lined with lanterns and rose petals.

You stand at the edge of the aisle and take a deep breath. The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the pool, and you see the familiar faces of your family and friends turned toward you. Your father takes your arm, gives it a reassuring squeeze, and smiles at you.

As you approach the altar, your eyes lock with Kiyoomi’s. He looks unbelievably handsome in his tuxedo, the black fabric fitting perfectly on his broad shoulders and slender frame. You've never felt quite like this seeing him before. His black wavy hair is neatly styled, but a few rebellious curls frame his face, adding to his effortlessly charming look.

His eyes scan you and he gives a genuine smile he rarely shows to anyone. When you finally reach him, he gently takes your hand. Then, the officiant begins the ceremony.

After a few words, the officiant says “Please face each other and join hands,”. “Do you, Sakusa Kiyoomi, take ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

You look up at Kiyoomi, feeling a flutter of nerves under his intense gaze. “I do,” he says firmly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Do you, ___ , take Sakusa Kiyoomi to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in joy and sorrow, for as long as you both shall live?”

You take a deep breath, remembering your meeting with Kiyoomi’s mother and the thoughts that followed. “I do,” you reply, smiling at Kiyoomi.

As the officiant pronounces you both husband and wife, your hands tremble slightly. You think Kiyoomi notices because he squeezes your hand, his touch warm and reassuring, melting away your nerves. “You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announces. Kiyoomi cups your face, his touch sending a shiver of electricity through you. As you look up, you see his gaze soften and his lips curve into a tender smile.

When he leans in, you realize this will be your very first kiss with him, and it will happen as husband and wife! You try to calm yourself and place your hands on his chest. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his lips meeting yours. The kiss is soft and tender.

As you part, his forehead rests gently against yours, and your breaths mingle. You open your eyes to find him looking at you with adoration you’ve never seen before, taking your breath away all over again and stirring emotions you can't quite describe. You notice his hand still lingering on your face before the crowd around you erupts into applause and cheers. He smiles at you, making you smile at him too.

[billythesimp]

Never Judge a Film By Its Cover

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎...

Thank you for the request Client_Clover! I hope this is too you liking, I've never done work like this when it comes to basing interactions off of aesthetic/genres.

Wise w/ gothic-alternative-sweetheart! reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡...⋙

Tagging: ☘️ anon

tw: none

⋈ Wise is used to all kinds of people in both kinds of works, whether it’s helping a client in the hollows or approaching a customer to recommend a new tape they figured would be to their liking. No matter the person, he is able to adapt to their personality and knows that better than to judge a person by their looks. He has an eye for these kinds of things, picking up on the littlest details of his customers which makes him a great salesman when it comes to film options. 

⋈ When he started taking an interest on one of the regular at the shop, he was thrown for a loop when he first laid his eyes on them. In a way, they reminded him of Ellen a bit, a very low energy personality who looked around the place with hooded eyes and a ‘Don’t approach me’ attitude. Their clothing choice was also interesting to say the least, wearing different monochromatic articles that could run from looking like a mess of nets and off-shoulder tops to high waisted skirts paired with long trench coat vibes.

⋈ Of course, the many times they come by they only view the tapes and even are with a group of friends from the looks, everyone being the complete opposite of what they seem like, cheerful and bubbly they stand out with a serious case of RBF. [Resting-Bitch-Face] But that makes him even more intrigued, who is this person and what are they like. How do they attract such bright people despite their gloomy-gothic approach? He figures this out one day when they come into his shop looking for something, walking out of the staff only room to find them at the counter.

▿

“Oh, sorry for the wait. Could I help you with something?” 

They only scratch at their cheek, eyes wandering away from Wise’s gaze before presenting a film in hand. “Uh, yeah. Could I rent out this tape?” He only looked down at the tape in question, the genre surprising him to say the least. “Oh sure. Just Oh~ Sweetie today?” The nervously nod, a faint blush painting their cheeks like dapped out watercolors. He rang it up, smiling to himself before handing over the tape. 

“Alright, you’re all set. The return policy is usually a week from today, but feel free to drop by anytime before then. There’s a fee for late returns, but feel free to call the store if you have any questions. Thank you for your business.” Their eyes gleamed in excitement as they held the case in hand, Wise could almost see the sparkles emitting off of them before they waved him bye with a sheepish smile blessing his vision. Once out the store, he could only stare before smiling to himself again.

⋈ Since then, he is always greeting them while also discussing new films that would be to their liking. Mainly ranging from rom-coms to fantasy-adventure, he has gotten to knowing them to the point where they’ve become close friends. Wise enjoys their conversations as they always mention their favorite part of the tapes; he recommends them with childlike innocence, glowing brightly with a cheerful disposition. They invite him out sometimes when he’s clocked out for break, treating him to noodles or listening to some new records across the street. Another place they are a regular at, learning more about their interesting taste in music that fits their aesthetic.

▿

He’s asked about your lifestyle once, giving him a nervous response while twiddling with your fingers. “Ah, well, I get that question a lot. I always had a fascination with gothic fashion and the aesthetic as a whole, so I wanted to express my love for the art form by wearing what I found comfortable. People are surprised when I mention that, but many people I’ve met say that it’s really cool, so I continue to express myself freely- sorry, I’m probably rambling now.” Your yapping slowing into a nonsensible muttering which Wise assures them that he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“Well, I think you're pretty- neat! It’s pretty neat, so I can’t argue with you on that.” He nodded along, seeing how they only skipped beside him with renewed confidence. “Thank you, Wise!”

⋈ Whenever he’s out and about, should he spot them in their usual circle or looming over a display alone, despite the aura they have hovering over them he still makes it a habit to call out to them. The moment before and after they spot him makes his heart flutter, how they look over with a subtle glare before perking up and grinning cheekily and waving him over. Really, it’s a sight to behold.

⋈ Maybe one day they’ll be more than friends, but neither of them would admit it. No number of soft touches and gentle smiles will push them to confess their little attraction to one another. So for now they’ll cuddle up on his bed while watching another film. As friends, yeah really close friends.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

(Before you start reading, this is a silly Aruani scenario I wrote as a bit of a follow up to my other snippet, Flowers. I've never written a fic this long before so I apologize in advance if it's not the most coherent! Please let me know what you think, I would love to get any tips if you have any! Plus if there are any Aot inconsistencies, I apologize, I did try my best to build a setting that fits within the canon timeline I hope. Plus, some events happen in the past and the dialogue is marked with italics, I hope this past-present jump isn't too confusing! I'll shut up now and let you read!!)

Weapon

Tonight is obnoxious. Rowdy. Deafening even.

All the girls are chatting enthusiastically, some doing their hair, others trying to decide what to wear. All while Annie rests on her bed with her eyes closed.

She's tired. Her brows are twisted in an almost constant frown, hands resting lazily on her stomach. Why must her roommates be so exhausting?

"I'm so nervous about the exam tomorrow!" Sandra whines, but before she can spiral further down her mental path of despair, she gets headbutted by Mina.

"Come on, what did I tell you!? No more exam talk, tonight we party!"

Ah, yeah.... The party.

The party that the trainees decided to organize the night before one of their big exams. A stupid decision, Annie thought. Wouldn't they want to be in top shape tomorrow morning? Surely that would be the rational way of thinking.

But the more time Annie spent with her colleagues, the more she understood that she was very much not a regular teenager. It was, in a way, frustrating to witness such trivial behaviour. Though deep down it was also strangely endearing. Maybe if her life had been different, she too could have been excited about a simple party.

She never had the time to think about her hairstyle or ponder her outfits. These subjects were so low on her list of priorities that Annie often wonders if they'll ever see the surface. Even when faced with the possibility of buying herself something new, she doesn't know how to choose for herself. What exactly does she like?

She always thought that as long as her clothes made her feel comfortable enough to fight, that's what really matte-

She shifts on the bed, eyes fluttering open to stare at the bunk above.

Right...Fighting. The one thing that truly defines her. After all, a weapon doesn't need cute clothes.

A weapon also doesn't attend parties.

So, the plan is to patiently wait for everyone else to leave so she can enjoy a quiet and peaceful even-

"Annie, are you coming?"

For a second, she doesn't reply. Annie's unsure whether she feels annoyed or surprised that someone noticed her otherwise ghostly presence. But when the intruder doesn't leave her side, she sighs and turns towards them.

Mikasa. Of course. Annie didn't know how to feel about Mikasa. She was an intimidating beast in battle, a perfect sparring opponent for Annie. But she also had a strange crush on Eren that pretty much everyone but him knew about. A shame really, since Mikasa was the first girl that made Annie question her preferences.

Not that a weapon has any time for crushes.

"No" Annie replies shortly. She really isn't in the mood to chat.

"Ah I see" but Mikasa doesn't move. "Everyone is coming."

"And...?" Why does Mikasa of all people care about this anyway.

"I can lend you a skirt, if that's why you look so grumpy".

Grumpy? Grumpy?? Is she joking?

"You'd never catch me wearing one." Annie retorts, taking in Mikasa's outfit. Her signature pastel pink skirt matches nicely with a plain white shirt and her red scarf. Annie often wonders if Mikasa ever washes it. "I don't do parties".

"Reiner and Bertholdt will be there."

Great, now Annie's thinking about those two assholes. Fantastic. Another reason NOT to go.

"You're not doing a great job at convincing me." Annie turns to face the wall, hoping Mikasa will just leave if she ignores her long enough.

"Annie…" a sly voice calls out and it makes her groan. "Guess who else's gonna be there?" Mina shouts smugly from somewhere in the room.

"Yeah Annie" Ymir appears from the bunk above her head. "You gonna leave him hanging?"

Annie can feel her cheeks heat up, but doesn't allow her emotions to show though her words. "No idea what you guys are talking about. Now get lost".

"Huh?" Mikasa replies, clearly in the dark, earning a round of giggles from the rest of the girls who one by one leave through the door. "Oblivious, both of them" Sandra whines once more before disappearing down the hallway with the rest.

Ymir jumps down, hooks an arm around Mikasa's shoulder and pulls her towards the door. "Don't let her ruin the fun, Mikasa. Let's go".

In just a few seconds the room falls silent. Beautiful, peaceful silence.

Annie turns on her back, exhaling. This is exactly what she wanted... so then why does she feel so conflicted.

The first thing that comes to mind is, unfortunately, Reiner and Bertholdt. Exactly why they decided to attend this party is beyond her understanding. Their whole game of playing "valiant soldier" as if nothing had happened really pisses her off. Running off to make friends like they weren't just some horrible mass murderers. Like they weren't the reason for hundreds of innocent deaths, including the family and friends of many of their colleagues.

Yes, innocent, because the moment the three of them arrived to Paradis it became pretty clear there were no devils. No Eldian empire, no nothing. These people didn't even have running water most of the time for fuck's sake!

Annie sits up on her bed, pushing hair away from her eyes.

Reiner would often tell Annie they were "brave warriors" whenever they'd persuade her to go on spying missions around Paradis. Of course, she would do most of the dirty work while they get to sit around 'making friends'.

"Assholes."

Annie rubs her eyes. She really needs to think about anything but Reiner and Bertholdt, so she gets up to stretch her legs.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the old, somewhat muddy mirror that the girls had hung by the door. Her thoughts rewind to Mikasa's question from earlier and when her mind conjures a skirt on her mirrored self, she shakes her head.

"Yeah, no."

How Mikasa could balance being a terrifying beast with being a soft flower girl is beyond Annie. The same person excelling at mercilessly slicing titan decoys left and right would come back to dorms to change into such delicate clothes.

There's absolutely nothing delicate about Annie. Well, nothing she thought was delicate, anyway.

She feels her ears heat up again as her mind finally lands on the one subject of conversation that she REALLY tried to avoid thinking about tonight.

Armin Arlert.

The boy everyone seems to be teasing Annie about tonight.

Out of all her colleagues, Armin was the one she'd spent the most time around. Annie had tasked herself with learning as much about life on Paradis as she could, so they'd often bump into each other in the library. There was a lot of silence when they read together, but sometimes Armin would break it to ask for her point of view on various subjects: history, strategy, science... the list goes on.

"Why would you want -my- opinion?"

"You're a very practical person Annie! Your perspective could really help me ground some of my ideas." He would say with a determined smile on his lips.

"Practical, huh?" Annie looks at herself in the mirror again. Maybe that's what defined her? Practical, simple things. She did really like her very practical hoodie.

Then she glances down at her hands, her rough knuckles riddled with battle scars and bruises. Mikasa's hands were never this gnarly. She didn't spend her childhood beating the ever-living shit out of a fighting dummy.

Even now, Annie would often stay up late training and sometimes she'd find Armin doing the same. He really struggled to keep up with physical training, so he would work overtime to have any chance at passing his exams. His determination often worked against him though.

One time when Annie was practicing throwing her punches, she suddenly got interrupted by a sharp yelp. Armin somehow managed to get stuck under some weights he was trying to lift and was gasping for air.

"Don't overdo it" Annie said, effortlessly lifting the weights from Armin's chest. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Annie, how did you get so strong?"

She thought about her dad for a second, but decided it would be best to avoid that subject. "Practice. A lot of it."

She reached out for Armin's outstretched hand to help him on his feet. He was so light that Annie wondered if a boy like him could ever survive being a soldier.

To her surprise, Armin didn't let go of her grip, instead glancing down at her bruised knuckles. The warmth of his palm was so unfamiliar to Annie that it made time itself stop for just a second.

"Your hands..." he broke the silence, prompting her to pull them away and hide them in her pockets.

"Ugly, I know" she turned to leave.

"No, that's not what I-" his voice cracked, so he took a second to choose his next words. "They're exactly how I expected them to be."

"What does -that- mean?" Annie shot him a questioning look.

"They're strong.... and soft".

"Soft...?" Annie whispers to herself, taking one final look in the mirror before turning to glance outside the window. She can see various trainees heading towards the canteen.

Towards the party. The party where Armin will be. The same Armin that thinks her hands are soft.

"This is stupid" she groans, hands massaging her face in frustration.

It seems like weapons do indeed have time to think about crushes. Way too much, in fact.

As much as she hates to admit it, Armin's been on her mind. With how often they seem to bump into each other, you would think that they're doing it on purpose.

And then... there's the flowers. The mysterious flowers that began appearing on the window sill beside her bunk. The same flowers that the girls had been relentlessly gossiping about up until last week when- well…

When Annie unintentionally discovered the identity of the mysterious person leaving said flowers behind. And to make things worse, almost everyone was awake enough to witness Armin of all people gifting her a bouquet.

"They reminded me of you" was the only thing he said before he disappeared out of sight. However, his words were enough for a wave of gasps and screams to erupt in the whole room. So, ever since then she's been endlessly tormented by her roommates with various uncomfortable and quite invasive questions.

She also hasn't talked to Armin since. Whether it was her who was avoiding him or the other way around, they seemed to miss each other every day since.

So really, she should keep it that way. That's why Annie should not go to the party.

And she should totally NOT open the door, walk down the hallway and out of her cabin. But when the cold wind ruffles her hair, she already knows she'd lost this battle. "Idiot…" she mutters to herself, knowing full well she's heading towards a battlefield she's absolutely not prepared for.

Thankfully, everyone seems to have already gotten to the canteen by now so no one's there to witness Annie's walk of shame towards the building.

Why exactly is she doing this? What will this accomplish? She doesn't know herself.

The more Annie aged the more her feelings became annoyingly complicated and downright unpredictable. She often wished she was just a guy like Reiner and Bertholdt because it just seemed so much easier. A guy didn't have to worry about cute clothes or soft hands. Well, maybe except for Jean, but Annie really didn't want to think about another asshole right now.

So, when she carefully pushes the door to the canteen open, she decides to try and abandon any unwanted thoughts. She steps in and to the side, silently.

The air inside the canteen is warm and the only sources of light are a few stray candles lit on the outskirts of the room. It also looks as if the tables had been pushed to the side to make more room in the middle, where some trainees are dancing around in clumsy circles. Some of them had brought in a few rudimentary instruments to fill the silence with music.

Annie can smell booze in the air and she immediately knows someone had broken into their instructor's personal stash of alcohol. Again.

Parties really weren’t Annie's thing and she already feels uncomfortable. Everything is so loud and overwhelming that it makes her feel uneasy. There’re way too many people gathered close together for her liking. But when she reaches for the doorknob thinking she'd just leave, a voice from behind stops her in her tracks.

"Hey, flower girl! Didn’t expect to see you here! "

Fuck.

It’s too late.

"Hey Annie, did you hear-" but Annie’s hand flies over Jean’s mouth, silencing him. He absolutely reeks of alcohol.

"Keep quiet or else" she shoots him a glare so sharp that Jean shudders.

"Alright, alright" she drops her hand to let him speak and wipes it on the side of her trousers. Jean’s an absolute mess and he looks so dishevelled that Annie really doesn’t want to imagine exactly what he had been doing tonight. Or just where his mouth had been.

"You’re way too tense, sheesh. Here for the party, I take?" a smug grin crosses his face. "Didn’t take you for the partying type."

"I’m not. I was just leaving" she takes a step back towards the door hoping to sneak out before anyone else notices her.

"Ohoho, who do we have here?"

Dammit, that’s one asshole Annie didn’t want to meet tonight.

"Annie, I didn’t know you’d come" Reiner appears from her side, blocking the door. His arms are crossed in an overly confident posture as he leans against the entrance. The collar of his shirt hangs loosely around his neck and his skin is so bruised it makes Annie feel sick. What a god damn loser.

"Fuck off." she hisses back.

"Now, now, there’s no reason to be so aggressive. You should have some fun sometimes too" Reiner laughs. "Do you know what fun means, Annie?"

"I’m not playing this game tonight Reiner" she pushes past Jean, eyes locking on the other exit of the canteen located at the end of the hall. "Pretend you never saw me and go back to fucking or whatever you two were doing."

"Harsh" she hears Jean mutter before disappearing into the crowd. Annie pushes past various other trainees, some that she knows and some she’d not spoken to before. Not that she talks a lot to begin with. She notices Hannah and Franz making out somewhere in the distance, a very loud and very drunk Connie dancing on his own atop a table and a group of people surrounding Mikasa who’s sitting at one of the seats next to Eren, lost in her thoughts.

She keeps her head low as she makes her way straight for the other exit, avoiding making any unnecessary eye contact with anyone familiar. She just needs to reach the stairs, run up and escape though the back. She just needs to make it past the-

Shit. In her desperate attempt to leave she nearly walked into the rowdy circle of people dancing in the middle of the room. Before anyone can yank her in the never-ending circle of hellish dances she pushes to the side, walking around the edge of the crowd.

Annie’s chest tightens and her breaths become somewhat agitated. All this is so… normal that it makes her sick. She feels like an alien- no, she IS an alien among all these people. Loud laughter contorts into horrifying screams in her head and she feels the need to scream I’m sorry! at the top of her lungs. Her feet stumble and she leans against a pillar to hold herself up.

"Annie?"

… Oh no. No, no, no!

Anyone but him!

"Are you ok?" Armin speaks from below her in a quiet voice. He seems to have taken refuge somewhere on the side of all the action, sitting on a bench by the pillar Annie stopped by.

She doesn’t meet his eyes. Hell, she can barely hold herself up at the moment. Stopping helped her steady her breathing, but now her mind floods with thoughts about Armin and she feels like her head is going to explode.

She doesn’t know how much time passed, a minute, thirty, an hour before she gathers her thoughts and replies with a faint "I’m fine".

"Do you need to sit down? Or maybe a drink?" he asks so cautiously that Annie wonders when she became this visibly vulnerable.

"No, it’s ok. I was just leaving."

She finally manages to look Armin in the eyes and suddenly, it’s quiet.

So quiet.

Because he’s looking back at her with so much care that time stops around her. His hair’s a mess, sticking to his face in several places where sweat varnishes his skin. Some of it had been pulled back, presumably to cool him down. She can’t help but think it looks so good on him. Annie’s eyes then shamelessly follow the curve of his exposed neck only to notice that his chest was rising quite rapidly as well. Had he been dancing too?

She didn’t know Armin could dance.

"Um… Annie?" he says sheepishly, somewhat self-conscious.

Fuck, Annie was staring.

"Have you been dancing?" she blurts our, immediately regretting her words. Of course he was, everyone here was!

"Ah, yeah actually. I quite enjoy it" he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you?"

Annie stares at the rowdy crowd in the middle of the room, looking hell straight in the eye. "Not really."

"I see" he replies.

There’s silence for a bit. It’s so awkward that Annie doesn’t know how to deal with it. All the confidence she had earlier on had disappeared. Why exactly did she come here to begin with? She was going to meet Armin and then… what?

"I don’t know how to dance either" he suddenly whispers in a soft voice, taking her by surprise. He leaned over as if he was sharing one of his biggest secrets. "I just make it up as I go. But don’t tell anyone."

She blinks, not quite knowing what to say. His proximity makes her ears burn.

"I can teach you, i-if you want?" he continues somewhat shyly.

Annie has no idea when Armin Arlert became so confident. Was it at the library? Or maybe during training, or perhaps when he gifted her flowers?

Annie curses herself for replaying those events in her mind all at once. Why was he doing all this to begin with?

"Too many people" she mutters, trying to brush him off.

"I see…"

Shit, he sounds so disappointed that her chest tightens. But this is good, it’s perfect because from where she’s standing there’s a clear path towards the exit. A few steps and she’s out of the canteen and back in her bed. All she needs to do is leave. Easy.

So then why does she grab his hand instead.

"My room is empty. We can do it there."

Fuck, that came out completely the wrong way and she mentally punches herself for her inability to choose words more carefully.

Armin’s face reddens so deeply that she worries he might combust. But he looks so determined when he squeezes her hand and nods in agreement. And it’s this pure boldness of his that makes Annie wonder-

Can weapons fall in love?

[taylor-titmouse]

Shrinking Violet is out! another of @petitemortality R/L Monroe's wonderful erotic shorts, with another cover by yours truly >:) i've been saying it on nearly every promo post i make for this but if you're one of the people who has wanted me to write f/f, you're legally obligated to read this one. below is the sales copy, and then below that some discussion of the process for designing the cover!

Nobody at college knows that shy, nervous Maya had a 'bad boy' reputation in high school - and Maya is the only one who knows tough, rebellious Nasrin used to be a sweet-tempered teacher's pet. Mutual attraction is rekindled when their paths cross again, but the two find their old dynamics have been flipped on their head. Maya finally knows what she wants, and Nasrin is bold enough to give it to her...that is, if she can bring herself to ask. Will their first time be perfect the second time around? 7k words, EPUB and PDF format. This is the second in the Fuck Yourself Friday series of shorts. New stand-alone erotic stories are released on the last Friday of every month. FYF 1: Go Fuck Yourself These stories contain explicit sexual content, and are intended for 18+ audiences.

Contains: -F/tF -transfem sub -outdoor sex -praise kink -soft penis stimulation -non-penetrative sex

THUMBNAILS

this one was very straightforward with the request: "the image I have in my mind for a cover is someone's fingers knotted in a skirt spread out against wildflowers. but more in the sort of gripping your own skirt gently kind of way, somewhere between anxious and excited if that makes sense. I'm thinking like you know the classic soft grunge tumblr aesthetic photo vibe. type of shit you'd post next to a closeup of a skinned knee in long socks"

very easy instructions to follow! so while i usually prefer to do 3 thumbnails, i only ended up with 2. there's only so many ways you can depict a hand on a skirt, after all. and we decided that we wanted to continue with the style i established with the first one, with silhouettes, lineless art, and bold textures. we liked the first one more, but wanted to get some leg in there.

i proposed adding black pantyhose to the narrative to make it work on the cover (i have changed prose to match what i drew for illustrations Many times) but we went with bare leg in the end

FINISHING

so i didn't actually do a sketch for this one, just went straight to rendering. as we all know i use gradient maps a lot in my work, so i gave lee a choice between a bright, springy palette, and a wetter, darker palette. i also offered it with the border, or with the skirt going over it. personally i like the skirt going over it, but the border keeps it consistent and more book-cover-y, so we went with that. lee chose the darker palette, which suits the story much better

but the font didn't fit! too vintage for the story, which takes place in modern day.

fonts time :^)

we went with the third option for the contrast. and also added a raindrop to the flower (which got moved to the right petal in the final draft). gently touching petals, wetness, This Is Yuri.

and the final result is as above!

anyway you should all read this story, it's incredibly sweet childhood-best-friends-to-lovers and in itself a love letter to trans femininity. i highly recommend it, and it's only $3!

go and get it!

[bupia]

Bloodlust: Chapter 1 - Dracopia x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the news of a masquerade ball being hosted in your city, your friend invites you to go with her. Despite not being a fan of this type of event, you decide to give it a chance, unaware of the subsequent events that would unfold.

Words: 7.521

Warnings: None for now, this chapter is an introduction to the forthcoming events that will gradually unfold throughout the subsequent chapters.

A/N: This is about Dracopia, so be aware that Copia is a Vampire on this story. And, that his visual is the Cardinal look during 2019.

Available on AO3

As the week went by, another invitation from your friend, urging you to attend the grand masquerade ball that was about to happen in your city came. While the idea of such an event seemed both enticing and cumbersome, you couldn't shake off the feeling that it was a bit too antiquated for your taste. The thought of wearing a dress, adorning a mask, and dancing the night away felt like something that wasn't particularly aligned with you, especially on a weekend.

Nonetheless, it became increasingly difficult to decline your friend's insistence to join. You pondered over the idea, contemplating whether you could bring yourself to attend such a traditional event as the internal struggle continued and you weighed the pros and cons of going to this masquerade ball. After all, it was just for one night.

And now, here you were, standing before the grand doors of the old classic European building, wearing a borrowed dress from your friend. At least, the dress was a stunning masterpiece, its crimson hue setting you apart in the crowd even before you stepped inside. The off-the-shoulder style exuded both elegance and a touch of allure, while the voluminous skirt added an air of grandeur to your ensemble. The velvet material felt luxurious against your skin, the fitted bodice showcased your figure in a way that made you feel beautiful.

"Please, it's just one night," your friend said.

"I know it's just one night, but I still can't understand why you were so insistent on this," you replied.

"It's finally a big event in the city, and waiting until next year is just too long for me," she explained. "I promise I won't ask you for anything for the next... week." She broke into a giggle, trying to sweeten the deal.

"Alright," you sighed, giving in.

Her face lit up with a huge smile, and she practically bolted towards you, squeezing you in a tight hug that bordered on suffocating. You managed a small smile as you looked at her, reminding yourself that at the very least, her happiness was worth the discomfort of attending the event.

"Thank you for coming with me. You're simply the best," she exclaimed, releasing her hold on you.

"I wouldn't say the best, but I think we can manage to have some fun," you replied.

"Well, the important thing is that we're here together!" she said with enthusiasm.

"Yeah..." you replied, your enthusiasm not quite matching hers.

Adjusting the mask in your face, you took a deep breath, before your friend grasped your hand and guided you towards the entrance of the old building. The grandeur of the structure was undeniable – its vintage architecture; richly decorated walls and shimmering ornaments, with the soft glow of chandeliers spilled out from the entrance.

As you stepped in the ballroom, you were immediately greeted by the sounds of music that filled the air. The ballroom itself was a sight to behold, with couples twirling gracefully on the dance floor and guests mingling throughout the space.

Your friend's grip on your hand tightened as she led you further into the ballroom. "Isn't it amazing?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

You couldn't help but smile in response. "It's certainly something."

Your friend's excitement was contagious; you were well aware of how much she loved attending such events. While you were enjoying yourself to some extent, it wasn't exactly your first choice for a weekend activity. But, it was fine, you decided to have a great night with your friend no matter what.

"I think we should get something to drink, what do you think?" she inquired.

"I think is a great idea to start the night," you replied, offering her a warm smile.

She led you towards the bar, where the two of you found a cozy spot on the balcony, overlooking the grand ballroom below. The soft glow of the chandeliers illuminated the dance floor, casting a magical ambiance over the scene. Placing your drink orders, you leaned against the balcony railing, your eyes drifting over the lively crowd below. The hum of conversations and the strains of music created a nostalgic and vibrant atmosphere. It wasn't long before the bartender returned with your drinks, and you reached out to take your glass, feeling the cool condensation against your fingers.

"Cheers," your friend said, raising her glass.

"Cheers," you echoed, clinking your glass against hers before taking a sip of the refreshing drink.

As you sipped on your drink and looked out at the crowd, your gaze came to rest on a figure who stood out from the rest. He exuded an air aristocratic and sophisticated, his presence commanding attention without any effort with his graceful posture and controlled movements. His attire was impeccable. The classic cuts of his dark elegant clothing, with the high collar that hugged his neck added a touch of drama to his ensemble. The cape draped over his shoulders lent him a slightly theatrical, gothic aura, setting him apart from the others.

His mask, a half-face creation, concealed part of his features while revealing one of his eyes. The uncovered eye allowed you a glimpse of his age, he was certainly older than you. Still, your curiosity piqued, and you found your eyes inexplicably drawn to him. You observed from a distance, taking in the subtle gestures, the occasional smiles, and the way he interacted with those around him.

Your friend nudged you, breaking your reverie. "See someone interesting?"

You glanced at her and then back at the figure. "Not at all, I was just looking around and got distracted."

You averted your eyes from him, focusing on the drink you held in your hand, taking a sip through the straw. Despite your attempt to divert your attention, your gaze sliding over to him from the corner of your eye. To your surprise, he had his eyes fixed on you now and it felt as if he were studying every nuance of your being. The way his eyes roamed over you, from head to toe, sent a shiver down your spine. As his eye locked with yours, you quickly averted your gaze to the drink on your hand. You took another sip of your drink, feeling the cool liquid glide down your throat, trying to ignore the fluttery sensation in your stomach.

His unwavering gaze was captivating, and the intensity with which he studied you seemed to tighten that grip on your stomach even more. You fought the urge to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself to maintain composure.

"It appears you've attracted an admirer," your friend playfully remarked, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Really? Who?" you feigned innocence, as if unaware of the person she was referring to.

"That man over there, he can't seem to take his eyes off you."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you attempted to downplay the significance of the situation. "Oh, come on. It's a busy event, people are naturally scanning the surroundings."

Your friend's nod was accompanied by a suspicious expression on her face, and you responded with a gentle yet nervous smile, hoping to convey your innocence. She returned the smile, seemingly convinced. Feeling relieved, you finished your drink, grateful that she seemed to have bought your explanation. As the two of you moved away from the bar, you couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were still fixed on you, a sensation that accompanied you as you walked towards a table.

As you settled into your chair, a sense of relief washed over you, and you let out a contented sigh. Just as your friend was about to join you, a woman appeared by her side, extending her hand in a friendly gesture.

"Care to dance?" the woman asked.

Your friend's cheeks immediately flushed with a deep shade of red, the color almost matching the crimson of your dress. Your friend hesitated for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected invitation. She looked at you, seeking some kind of reassurance.

"Go for it," you whispered, giving her a playful nudge.

With a nervous laugh, your friend accepted the woman's hand, allowing herself to be led to the dance floor.

Left alone at the table, you took the opportunity to observe the room once more. Your gaze inevitably found its way to the mysterious man. This time, however, he wasn't alone. He was engaged in a conversation with a woman, prompting you to consider that he might didn't come alone to the ball.

As you watched them, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It seemed that your friend were wrong; he wasn't looking at you, you didn't caught his attention. Perhaps he was simply enjoying the night, socializing with other guests, and his occasional glances were purely coincidental.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn't notice when someone approached your table. Startled, you looked up to find a man standing there.

"May I join you?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep.

You blinked in surprise before nodding politely. "Of course."

He pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down, his lips curving into a charming smile. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the room."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you lowered your gaze slightly. "Oh? Really?"

"Yes," he nodded. "By the way, I'm Benjamin," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand towards you.

"Nice to meet you, Benjamin," you replied, shaking his hand gently.

Little did you know that from the moment Benjamin approached your table, the mysterious man had discreetly glanced your way again. His gaze lingered on you, his expression pensive and contemplative. The woman he had been conversing with seemed to fade into the background as his attention became solely focused on you and the conversation you were having with the man across from you.

"Did you come alone?" he inquired.

"No, actually, I'm here with a friend of mine. She's dancing at the moment," you explained with a chuckle.

"Well, that's good, because I've been hoping to ask if you'd like to dance," he replied, his hand extended toward you.

Before you could respond to his invitation, the man who had been observing you, approached your table but ultimately chose a different table, settling into a seat where he could continue to watch you from afar. You sighed in disappointment glancing in the direction of him. You turned your attention back to the man before you, grabbing his extended hand.

"I would love to dance, but I'm definitely not a good dancer," you admitted with a sheepish smile, allowing him to guide you onto the dance floor.

He chuckled softly. "Not a problem at all."

You and Benjamin stepped onto the dance floor, but, a shiver ran down your spine as you couldn't shake the feeling of his intense gaze fixed upon your back, leaving a sense of unease settled over you, as if you were being closely observed from afar.

As the music swelled around you, he took your hand and placed the other on your waist, his touch firm but gentle as he led you through the steps of the dance. You couldn't help but steal occasional glances at the man who had shifted his position. He still had his eyes fixed on you, but now, there was a hint of annoyance on his gaze. His annoyed look seemed to follow your every move, and you couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind.

The music changed to a slower, more intimate melody, and Benjamin pulled you a little closer, causing you to look at him. As you moved to the rhythm of the music, your attention was involuntarily drawn back to the mysterious man, whose fingers now clutched the fabric covering the top of the table with a visible tightness. His expression seemed to have shifted from mere curiosity to something more intense, his focus solely on you and your interaction with Benjamin.

"Do you know him?" Benjamin inquired, tracing the direction of your stare.

"Who?" You replied, redirecting your gaze back to Benjamin.

"The man you've been looking at."

You shook your head. "No, I've never seen him before."

Benjamin let out a soft laugh. "It seemed like you two knew each other, given the way you two have been exchanging glances."

Before you could respond, the music came to an end, and Benjamin guided you back to your table. Expressing your gratitude for the dance, your attention was momentarily diverted. However, your curiosity pulled you to steal another glance at the enigmatic man. Why was he so captivated by you? What was the purpose behind this peculiar staring exchange? And, perhaps more importantly, why were you playing this staring game?

Just as you were contemplating these thoughts, your friend reappeared at the table. You swiftly shifted your focus to her, a warm smile gracing your lips.

"So, how was your dance?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

She beamed, still catching her breath. "It was amazing! She's a great dancer. And she's actually really sweet too."

"That's great to hear!" you exclaimed.

"Now, what about yours? I definitely caught you out on the dance floor."

You hesitated for a moment, glancing briefly at the mysterious man. "It was... quite an experience."

You refocused your attention on your friend, yet the enigmatic man's actions lingered in your thoughts. His behavior was growing more peculiar by the moment – from his intense stares to what felt like a deliberate following of your movements around the ballroom. Why he hadn't taken the straightforward route of initiating a conversation left you intrigued and frustrated. As you sighed softly, the notion that your fascination might not be reciprocated by him crossed your mind, introducing a touch of uncertainty to the situation.

"What was that?" she inquired, catching onto your sigh.

"Oh, it's nothing," you replied, offering a small smile. "I suppose I'm just feeling a bit tiren from all the dancing, or maybe I've been overthinking things."

"I've got an idea that might lighten your mood," she began. "How about we grab another drink?"

Her suggestion drew a chuckle from you, and you nodded appreciatively. "Another drink does sound like a good plan."

With that, the two of you made your way back to the bar, where you placed your orders and leaned against the counter. The music of the event filled the air around you as you waited for your drinks. Lost in the ambiance of the ball, you found yourself watching people on the dance floor. The clinking of glasses and the sound of liquid being poured drew your attention back to the bar. You reached out to claim your drink, and then the two of you returned to your table.

"Oh!" your friend exclaimed. "I forgot to ask for a straw. Do you need one?"

"No, I'm fine," you replied with a slight shake of your head.

She rose from her seat and headed back to the bar. Suddenly, the man rose from his seat, adjusting his clothing, and began making his way towards you. Your heart raced, anticipation building. However, he came to a halt as your friend made her way back to the table, his uncertainty palpable as he seemed to grapple with the decision of whether to approach your table or remain where he was.

"Is there something on your mind?" your friend asked, noticing your distracted demeanor.

You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. "It's just... that man over there," you said, nodding subtly in his direction.

"Which man?" She looked around, scanning the crowd.

You leaned in, speaking softly. "The one behind you at that table, the one who's been staring at me."

She followed your gaze and let out a laugh. "Oh, you mean the spooky, mysterious type? He's been looking at you all night."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's not exactly flattering, it's kind of unnerving."

"Well, if he's been staring like that, maybe he's just too shy to come over and talk," she suggested.

"Shy or not, he's definitely making me uncomfortable," you admitted.

“He’s definitely intrigued by you,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Or maybe he’s just wondering why I keep looking in his direction.”

She chuckled. "Well, a little conversation never hurt anyone, right? Why don't you go over there and find out what's his problem?"

"If he's interested in talking, he can make the first move."

With a hint of annoyance, you crossed your arms and cast a pointed glare in his direction. However, he stood there, seemingly undeterred. Letting out an exasperated huff, you doubted he could hear your frustration, yet the intensity of his unbroken stare conveyed that the silent exchange might finally be reaching its conclusion. The man redirected his path, and you seized the moment to take another sip of your drink.

"You know what?" your friend interjected, her gaze fixed on the dance floor. "I think we should hit the dance floor again, I really want to dance again."

"Dance again? We just finished one, and I—"

Before you could finish your sentence, your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you up from your seat. You nearly stumbled and had to steady yourself by holding onto her shoulder. Both of you shared a laugh at the unexpected moment, and then she led you towards the dance floor where two lines were forming, with people on one side and another ones on the other, waiting for the next song to start so they could dance together. Your eyes traced the row of people in front of you, and at the farthest end stood he. For some reason, you found yourself yearning to be the one standing before him.

Your gaze shifted to the random partner who awaited you. With a small smile, you exchanged a brief, anticipatory glance. As the melody of the song swelled, your partner stepped forward, and you mirrored their movement with a graceful bow. They reached you, their hand found yours with a gentle grasp. Their other hand found its place on your waist, and together, you two began to move in sync with the rhythm of the music.

With each spin, perfectly synchronized to the music's rhythm, your partner changes seamlessly, whisking you away in a series of enchanting twirls.

The dance continued and the sensation of his gaze tracing your every movement intensified. With each twirl, you found yourself turning your head to catch his eyes, only to discover them unwaveringly focused on you. Twirl after twirl, his stare remained locked onto you, drawing closer with every rotation. Yet, just as you expected to find him in the next instant, he vanished from your line of sight.

Frantically scanning the surroundings, your eyes darted in every direction until the music reached its crescendo – and there he materialized, stepping in as your final dance partner just as you completed your last spin.

"Mi hai chiesto di venire e eccomi qui," the man said with a grin on his lips.

You looked at him in confusion, not understanding his words. However, before you could inquire further, he pulled you into a close embrace as a new song started. His gloved hands reached for your lower back and for your hand, holding you closed to him, almost pressing your bodies together.

The atmosphere shifts, and it's as if the world fades away, leaving only you and him on the dance floor. His strong yet gentle guidance leads you in a seamless dance, your steps effortlessly synchronized with the haunting melody. His gaze remained unwavering, focused solely on you, and his grip remained firm as he held you close. Despite the masked half of his face that concealed his eye, you found yourself unable to divert your gaze from his captivating green eyes.

He led you in perfect harmony with the music, twirling you and then drawing you in closely as the song played on. The finesse of his lead was such that you felt as if you were dissolving into his embrace. Your grip on his shoulder tightened, and you surrendered to the sensation, closing your eyes, letting him to steer you through the dance.

You surrendered to the comfort of his embrace, allowing your back to gently curve against his arm. Your neck arched back, baring its elegant curve, fully immersed in the moment as though you were ensnared in a spell within his arms. All you desired was to be completely enveloped in his presence, feeling his unwavering support in this instant, as if he would hold you regardless of anything else.

With the final note echoing in the air, you felt him guiding you toward the open space of the dance floor, his hold resolute. As you slowly opened your eyes, you met his gaze, his figure hovering above yours, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

With a practiced motion, he brought you back closer, his grasp secure around your lower back. Taking a deep breath, you tried to shake off the enchantment that had taken hold. Your head gave a subtle, almost instinctive, shake as if to break the spell that had woven itself around you. His hand found yours, and he delicately raised it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your skin.

As the new melody filled the air, his hand gently found its way to your face. Anticipating another dance, you readied yourself, but instead, with a delicate motion, he shifted your hair, unveiling the vulnerable nape of your neck. Inclining toward you, he bestowed a lingering kiss upon your skin. The sensation of his pointed nose and the softness of his lips, accentuated by a mustache gracing the top of his upper lip, brushed against you, creating an impression of savoring your very essence.

"May I have a moment of your time, carissima?" he inquired, his voice a soft whisper close to your ear.

"Y-Yes," you managed to stammer in response.

He wasted no time in guiding you off the dance floor, leading you toward a discreet exit of the saloon. With confident steps, he ushered you to an empty balcony at the rear of the weathered building. The music's distant melodies faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in a secluded haven.

He turned to face you, his gaze intense. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation as the night breeze rustled through your hair. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he held it gently yet firmly.

"I must admit," he began, his tone smooth yet tinged with a playful glint in his eye, "I've been wanting to talk to you since the moment you walked into the ballroom." He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is that so?" you inquired, arching a brow in disbelief.

He nodded, his lips curving into a half-smile. "Infatti. I had quite a speech planned out, ma ore that we're here, it seems to have escaped my memory."

The confession caught you off guard, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering in your eyes. "Really? And why is that?"

He leaned in closer, his voice a velvety whisper. "Perhaps it's your captivating presence or this vestito cremisi of yours. Or maybe it's the simple fact that I haven't been able to take my eyes off you."

You felt a subtle warmth spreading across your cheeks at his candid words, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Well, I appreciate your honesty."

A sly smile curved his lips. "Ah, but I haven't just been admiring you from afar, I've been devising ways to approach you, hoping to catch your attention." His grin widened, and he leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you can help me fill in the gaps, carissima."

You raised an eyebrow playfully, appreciating his direct approach. "Are you asking for assistance in charming me?"

His eyes twinkled with uncertainty. "Is it working?"

You couldn't help but grin, with a playful chuckle on your lips. "Maybe a little."

"Ah, progress," he said, as if celebrating a small victory. "I've been practicing my 'smoldering gaze' for occasions like these, cara."

"Well, I must say, you're doing a fine job." You laughed, charmed by his candid confession.

He leaned a bit too eagerly and accidentally knocked into a nearby potted plant, causing it to wobble precariously until it fall from the top rail. "Eh!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening as he looked down at the broken potted plant on the ground. "It seems I'm not just a master of the 'smoldering gaze,' but also a true artist of goffaggine."

You looked down at the broken potted plant, as his self-deprecating humor made you laugh even harder. "A true renaissance man."

He grinned, scratching his head sheepishly. "A renaissance man that sometimes includes unintentional plant rearrangement, sì?"

"It's all part of your... allure," you chuckled, gesturing with your hands.

He let out a laugh, his eyes sparkling as he met yours. "Eh, sono contento di sentirlo. I must say, though, that breaking potted plants was not part of my grand seduction plan."

"Perhaps it's a new approach," you teased, "capturing hearts through horticultural mishaps."

He pretended to ponder this with an exaggerated expression, then shook his head with mock seriousness. "I might need to reconsider my strategy, sì?."

As he held your gaze, a comfortable silence settled between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The soft glow of the moon highlighted his features, and you found yourself captivated by him.

"So," you began, breaking the lighthearted atmosphere, "can I ask your name?"

"Ah, of course, cara!" he responded with enthusiasm. "My name is Copia."

"Copia?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side as you looked at him. "I've never heard a name like that before."

He chuckled softly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, I like to think I'm as unique as my name."

"It suits you," you replied with a gentle smile.

He bowed slightly in response, his manner almost theatrical. "Grazie, carissima. And may I have the honor of knowing the name that accompanies such a lovely smile?"

You introduced yourself, and a warm smile formed on his lips. As he took another step closer, your heart raced in your chest, the proximity making you feel a kind of excitement and nervousness. The heat rose to your cheeks as you met his gaze, feeling a bit flustered in his presence.

"A name as beautiful as its bearer," he echoed, his voice soft yet filled with a genuine warmth that seemed to envelop you.

His hand, still gently holding yours, radiated a comforting warmth that traveled through your veins, soothing the jitters that had taken residence in your stomach.

"I must admit, cara, meeting you has been the most enchanting part of this evening," he confessed, his voice a velvety murmur.

He got his face close to your neck, and a soft purr escaped your lips as you felt his warm breath against your skin. His lips hovered near your neck, but he hesitated, his intense gaze meeting yours. The vulnerability in his eyes was evident as he pulled back slightly, a hint of flustered surprise crossing his features. The soft sound you had emitted seemed to have caught him off guard.

"Mi... Mi dispiace," he stammered, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I got carried away."

You smiled, a reassuring light in your eyes as you reached out, placing your hand gently on his. "It's alright, Copia. It's okay. You can do it."

He looked at you, uncertainty and vulnerability mingling in his expression. "Can I?"

Your smile grew warmer, and you nodded gently. "Yes, you can... you can kiss my neck."

Copia's hesitation was palpable as he stared down at your neck. Sensing the uncertainty that gripped him, you took a subtle step closer, getting onto your tiptoes. Gently cupping his face with one hand, you guided his gaze upward until his eyes met yours, the distance between your faces now mere inches.

"Or... you could kiss me," you added in a whisper that seemed to echo the soft rustle of the night breeze. "If you want to, that is. I mean, it’s entirely up to you — we don’t have to, of course."

Copia's gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips, his desire and vulnerability palpable in the intensity of his stare. His hand found its way to your hips with a gentle, yet possessive touch. His other hand ventured upwards, fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck. Slowly and tenderly, his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, until his hand settled at the back of your neck.

With a soft sigh, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment, as the warmth of his breath mingled with yours. The space between you dwindled, and his face drew closer, your heartbeats resonating in rhythm.

But before he could close the remaining distance between you two, the sound of your name being called reached your ears, a distant yet distinct interruption that caused Copia to step back from you. Your eyes fluttered open, the spell of the moment broken as you turned your gaze from him to the direction from which the voice emanated.

"There you are!" your friend's voice called out, accompanied by the soft patter of footsteps approaching.

You turned your attention toward her, leaving the balcony before she could catch you there with Copia. Is not that she couldn't see him, but you knew she would tease you about it later.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" she exclaimed, concern evident in her eyes.

You chuckled, trying to appear nonchalant. "Sorry for disappearing."

She nudged you playfully. "Oh, come on, spill the beans! What were you up to out here?"

You shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just enjoying the fresh air."

She gave you a knowing look, but thankfully, didn't push further. Instead, she held your hands in a tight grip and gave you a big smile.

"Guess what!" your friend exclaimed, her tone brimming with excitement.

"What?" you responded, intrigued by her enthusiasm.

"Ok, but before I tell you, you have to promise me you won't say a thing about it."

You chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. "Of course I won't. Now tell me, what is it?"

"So," she began, "Freyja – you know, the one who whisked me away to dance as soon as we arrived – well, she asked me if I want to... go with her to another place, and I said yes, so..."

Your eyebrows lifted, your curiosity piqued. "So...? Don't keep me in suspense!"

"So I won't be able to go back with you. Is it okay?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

You smiled reassuringly. "Of course! You have to go with her! This sounds like an amazing chance, and I can find my way back."

Her relief was evident in her expression as she hugged you excitedly. "You're the best! I knew you'd understand!"

She pulled away, a big smile lighting up her lips, before turning back to face the ballroom and waving in your direction. You watched her until she disappeared into the crowd. Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked back to the balcony.

"Copia, I'm so sorry for it," you began, your voice soft as you spoke aloud to the empty balcony. "It was just my friend, and she had some exciting news..."

Your voice trailed off as you arrived at the balcony, only to find that Copia was no longer there. The place where he stood was empty, it was as if he had dissolved into the shadows and you couldn't help but wonder where he had disappeared to.

You reached out, your fingers grazing the cold stone of the balustrade as you looked down. The empty balcony stretched before you, and the only thing there was the broken potted plant on the ground.

With a sigh, you leaned against the balustrade, your gaze fixed on the broken plant. The memory of his warm breath against your skin and the softness of his touch remained imprinted in your mind. The absence of Copia left you feeling a blend of disappointment and a lingering sense of wonder.

You shook your head and decided to return to the ballroom. Stepping away from the balcony, you navigated your way back through the bustling crowd, making your way to the door you had initially used to access the balcony. As you re-entered the ballroom, you scanned the area, your eyes searching for any sign of Copia.

However, it seemed that he had truly vanished. The ballroom buzzed with activity, created a joyful ambience. Yet, amidst the joyous ambiance, you couldn't shake the feeling that he had slipped away into the shadows of the night.

Resigned to the situation, you made your way towards the main entrance. As you reached the main entrance, you stepped out into the cool night air.

Before you could start your journey back home, a familiar voice called out from behind you – it was Benjamin.

"Hey! Wait!" he exclaimed, wavering in your direction. "You got missed, I was looking for you."

Turning around, you greeted him with a smile. "Oh, I left after the last dance to get some fresh air, and now I've decided to head home."

His expression turned concerned. "And you're going alone?"

You nodded. "Yes, my friend left the party with a partner, and here I am."

His concern deepened. "Please, I can't let you go alone at this hour to your home. Wait here, I'll go back inside to grab my coat. If you allow me, I'd like to accompany you."

You hesitated, uncertainty flickering in your eyes. "Ah... I'm not sure, but yes, I guess?"

"Alright, stay right here," he said before quickly making his way back to the main entrance.

You took a deep breath, watching as Benjamin disappeared through the main entrance. The cool night breeze seemed to whisper in your ear, urging you to avert your gaze in another direction. Your eyes turned to the balcony, a place where the evening had taken an unexpected turn with Copia. As you looked up, there he was, looking down at you from the balcony.

Your heart raced, and a mixture of emotions surged within you. Copia's mask was gone, revealing a face that seemed to shine in the moonlight. His eye glistened like a radiant moonbeam, captivating your gaze. You blinked rapidly, almost not believing your eyes, but it was undeniably him. Your lips parted in surprise, and your foot took a small step as if drawn by an invisible force. You were on the verge of calling out to him when the sound of footsteps approached you.

"Hey, I'm back," Benjamin said, walking towards you.

Your attention snapped away from the balcony, and your heart sank at the interruption. Copia's figure had vanished, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You offered Benjamin a smile, trying to push away the thoughts that had suddenly consumed you.

"Thanks for offering to walk me home," you said to Benjamin, masking the wistful note in your voice. "I appreciate it."

"Is my pleasure," he said with a warm smile. "Should we go now?"

You nodded, pushing aside your thoughts. "Yes, let's go."

Walking beside Benjamin, you turned your back to the old building. As you headed towards your home, you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the balcony, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of Copia once more. But he wasn't there anymore, and the only thing that accompanied you was the sound of your footsteps against the pavement, and the gentle company of Benjamin who had offered to walk with you. With a sigh, you refocused your attention on the path ahead, the sound of your footsteps mingling with Benjamin's as he walked beside you.

The walk back to your home was accompanied by an awkward silence that hung between you and Benjamin. Despite the reassurance of having someone to accompany you, the absence of meaningful conversation left a lingering discomfort. You were grateful for the company, yet your mind kept drifting back to Copia.

You couldn't help but wonder why your thoughts were so fixated on a stranger. Why did you feel an unexplainable longing for his presence, even though you barely knew anything about him? The memory of his strong yet gentle touch, the intensity of his gaze, and even his moments of clumsiness replayed in your mind like an unending loop.

But it was the almost-kiss that lingered most vividly in your thoughts. The closeness, the anticipation, and the way time seemed to stand still in that fleeting moment – it had etched itself into your memory.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the door of your house. You retrieved your key from your small purse, your fingers gripping it as you turned to face Benjamin.

"Thank you for coming with me, Benjamin," you said, offering him a grateful smile.

He returned your smile, his eyes warm. "Of course, anytime. It was my pleasure to make sure you got home safely."

You nodded, a sense of gratitude and relief washing over you. "Well, have a good night, then."

"Are you not going to invite me to enter?" Benjamin's voice broke through your contemplations.

You turned to face him, a faint smile touching your lips. "Why would I?"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Fair point. Maybe another time then."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "Definitely. Thank you for walking me home, Benjamin. It means a lot."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "Have a good night."

"Good night," you echoed, watching as he turned and walked away.

You entered your home, and closed the door behind you with a deep sigh. You slipped off your shoes and made your way to the living room. With a sense of relief, you unzipped your dress, letting it cascade down to the floor. The fabric pooled around your feet, and as you stood there, you allowed yourself a moment of solitude, the quiet of your home enveloping you.

You made your way to your bedroom, reaching for your bra to remove it. The sensation of being free from the constraints of formal attire was like a weight lifting off your shoulders. With a sigh, you unclasped the bra and let it slide off your shoulders, your back arching slightly as you stretched.

You were on the brink of crawling into your bed, ready to let the day's events settle into the background of your mind. Just as you reached your bed, you were startled by the sound of your doorbell echoing through your home. Your footsteps echoed as you made your way towards the door, a robe quickly found its way around you, and you prayed that it wasn't Benjamin again.

"Look, I appreciate what you did for me but now is not the best moment," you said, with a hint of annoyance on your voice.

As you opened the door, your heart racing. Your initial assumption that it might be Benjamin was quickly shattered as your eyes widened in astonishment.

A grin formed on his lips, and his voice was smooth as he spoke, "Oh, mi dispiace, cara. Were you expecting someone else?"

Before you stood Copia. Did he follow you to your house? The thought tumbled through your thoughts, leaving you bewildered and a touch anxious. You couldn't help but wonder if he had walked behind you and Benjamin the entire way. If he did, why? What was his motivation? Your heart raced as you tried to gather your thoughts.

The silence lingered between you for a moment, a thousand questions dancing on the tip of your tongue. As you met his gaze, you noticed he e wasn't wearing his mask by then, allowing you to finally glimpse his complete face. Bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, his green eye shimmered, but it paled in comparison to the radiance of his white one, a sight unlike anything you had ever seen before.

"I... I didn't expect to see you here," you finally managed to say.

A playful glint sparkled in his eye as he regarded you. "Ah, I suppose I have a knack for surprises, sì?"

"I... um, what brings you here?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said with a half-smile.

"No, you're not intruding," you replied, your curiosity getting the better of you. "But... how did you know where I live?"

Copia's smile widened slightly, and he tilted his head in a manner that seemed almost conspiratorial. "Let's just say I have my ways."

"And by ways, you mean... follow me?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism.

A playful glint danced in Copia's eyes as he leaned against the doorframe, his demeanor a blend of confidence and charm. "Perhaps not in the most conventional sense, but I wanted to make sure you got home safely, cara."

"Well," you looked around your living room and let out a light chuckle. "I guess I'm... safe?"

Copia's laughter joined yours, a warm and inviting sound that echoed in your ears. "Safe is a relative term, sì?"

As you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at his cryptic comment. "Is it, now? What do you mean by that?"

He met your gaze with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "Safety can take on many forms, cara. Sometimes, the most dangerous things are the most tempting."

You couldn't deny the underlying tension that had woven itself into the atmosphere. Copia's eyes held a depth that was both alluring and mysterious, and you found yourself drawn further into him.

"Are you implying that I should be cautious around you?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

A spark of amusement danced in Copia's eyes as he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until it was almost nonexistent. "Beh, cara, I'll leave that for you to decide."

You nodded, your gaze locked onto his eyes. Just as you were about to reply, Copia interjected with a soft chuckle. He gracefully moved away from the doorframe, giving you a gentle smile that held a touch of reassurance.

"I'm just kidding, cara," he said, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to fill the room. "I promise not to bring any kind of danger into your world."

"Yeah, you're a danger only to potted plants after all," you teased him, giggling.

Copia's laughter joined yours, the tension of the moment giving way to a lighthearted exchange. "Eh, sì, my eternal struggle against potted plants," he replied with a mock sigh. "It's a battle I fear I'll never win."

You couldn't help but chuckle, but a soft blush as Copia's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch both unexpected and intimate. The warmth of his hand against your skin sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine, and you found yourself drawn into his gaze once again.

"I must repeat," Copia began, his gaze turning thoughtful, "it's not every night that I find myself in such charming company."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a genuine smile touching your lips. "Well, it's not every night that a mysterious stranger decides to follow me home and confesses to being a potted plant menace."

Copia's eyes danced with amusement. "Giusto, cara! But, I hope you know that my intention is to ensure your safety."

"I appreciate that," you replied softly. "But I assure you, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"I don't doubt that for a moment," he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "I know you can take care of yourself, cara," he removed his hand from your face, taking a step back. "I should be on my way," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance. "You are safe here, and it's time for me to leave."

"Thank you for your company and for making sure I'm safe."

Copia's gaze held yours for a lingering moment. "Until we meet again, cara."

With those parting words, he turned and walked toward the door, his presence fading into the night as quickly as he had appeared. As you closed the door behind him, you found yourself leaning against it, your heart racing and your mind swirling. The encounter with Copia had been both exhilarating and surreal, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, allowing the stillness of the moment to wash over you. The memory of his touch, his voice, and his piercing gaze lingered, leaving an indelible imprint on your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder if you and the mysterious man named Copia would really meet again.

Chapter 2

⸻ Grammar

Carissima: Dearest

Cara: Dear

Mi hai chiesto di venire e eccomi qui: You asked me to come and here I am

Infatti: Indeed

Ma ore: But now

Vestito cremisi: Crimson dress

Goffaggine: Clumsiness

Sì: Yes

Sono contento di sentirlo: I'm glad to hear it

Grazie: Thank you

Sorriso incantevole: Lovely smile

Mi dispiace: I'm sorry

Beh, cara: Well, dear

Giusto, cara: Right, dear

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 6 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

ummmmm HIII so sorry i know i still owe you guys a million drabbles and i haven't been posting as much but this chapter is just chock-full of drama and i'm so excited to share it bc hehehe it's a rollercoaster. also we should def stop listening to sasha. sneaky posting; have fun babies!!!! i cannot WAIT to hear your thoughts

specific cws: alcohol use, violence (like fist-fighting level not insane), mentions of drugs, swearing, incredibly awkward tension lol

-

“The course of true love never did run smooth.” A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare (Act I, Scene 1)

You’ve done a lot of partying in your days, but you never thought a hangover could float over your shoulders for damn near two weeks. Then again, maybe that rancid taste in your mouth is regret instead of the practical gallons of liquor you’d guzzled that night.

Historia tells you to delete the evidence, have a glass of wine with your friends, focus on your studies, put meaning back into the happy distractions that make up life. Sasha tells you to suck it up, download Tinder, do something other than wallow in your bed with nothing on but the fairy lights along your ceiling. Ymir tells you men aren’t worth embarrassing yourself for, maybe start swinging the other way, that she knows a few very pretty single ladies.

You meet all of their advice with a slow nod, sometimes a chuckle, put your head down, and go about your business, letting the shame follow you around like a little rain cloud from building to building around campus. Even your students have noticed something’s making you tick; Falco and Gabi left a package of Crumbl cookies in your office the other day, and for the first time, Zofia has begun to raise her hand in class. It’s heartwarming, really, but it doesn’t solve your problem.

Problems would be the better term for it. To start, there was your royal fuck-up with Eren. You had over-indulged and gotten a little too flirty to be “friends”, sure, it happens, but something had snapped in you when you saw Eren with that leggy blonde hanging all over him at the club.

Breeze. Even wearing naught but a skirt and some thin tights with the early winter wind whipping around your legs, just the thought of her name makes your blood boil. She was perfect, all bouncy and easygoing and cool, hippie clothes. To be fair, she was the one with the true claim on Eren; you had dug your own grave, far too confident in your ability to be just friends with someone so…so Eren.

Your friendship had been growing closer and closer by the passing day before that night, texting at nearly every minute of the day and spending time together wherever you could fit it in your full schedule. You had made plans to bake Christmas cookies together, even despite Eren’s protests that Christmas was a “capitalistic hellhole of a holiday season”, had acted out your favorite Shakespeare scenes in your pajamas, much to Eren’s amusement, and had made a habit of staying up late into the night watching and rewatching your favorite animes, heatedly debating characters. It had been butterfly-inducing, dizzying, perfect. Until you had indulged in one too many shots and humiliated yourself, that is.

Seeing Breeze all over Eren had made you realize the severity of your mistake trying to keep Eren in your life, realize the warm feeling blooming in your chest every time he grinned at you, all teeth and his little chin dimple, was decidedly much more than a platonic appreciation for a new friend. It turned out that you’d been right from the start; you weren’t his type, and to make matters worse, his actual taste in women had been thrust in your face unexpectedly.

When you had awoken the next morning, debating on whether to fall back asleep immediately or dash to the toilet, Historia had greeted you with a sorry smile, a cup of coffee, and a quiet word of advice to look through your phone. Knowing your drunken self, you pulled up your phone calls first, wanting to make sure you hadn’t accidentally Facetimed your mom to tell her how much fun you were having or something cringe-worthy of the sort. But no, of course it had to be much worse than that.

There was a phone call– to Eren. Your call log had recorded a one minute and thirty-six second phone call between you and Eren, one you obviously didn’t remember making.

“Please tell me you were with me when I called Eren,” you groan, so naive, “did I completely embarrass myself?”

Historia blushes. “Well, he didn’t answer, if it’s any consolation–”

“Oh, thank god–”

“But that didn’t exactly stop you,” Historia fiddles with the edge of her t-shirt, “you left him a voicemail.”

Even through your throbbing headache, you shoot right up out of bed at that. “What?! What did I say?”

“I don’t know,” Historia moans woefully, putting her hands over her face, “I’m sorry, I tried to stop you, but you ran off as soon as you started talking. By the time I caught up to you, you were already hanging up.”

“So, there’s a voicemail from drunk me on Eren’s phone, and neither of us have any idea what it says?”

“Correct.”

“My life fucking sucks.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot worse,” Historia says, throwing your sheets back and snuggling beside you in the bed, burrowing her face in your shoulder, “check your texts.”

And oh, had it gotten worse. Your drunken, foolish text sat in your outbox, unanswered, unread, and inexcusable. Six months later and you were right back where you started, begging a ghost of a man to explain why he couldn’t love you.

> hi luke, i’m sorta ficked up, but i misz you. why did yoi never call me???? you owe me at leasttg that. a fcking explanation,. 

Storming through campus, coat tucked around your shoulders against the biting chill, you wince at the memory. You haven’t deleted the unanswered text yet, keeping it stale in your phone as a reminder of what happens when you get too attached to people you know aren’t good for you.

You thought you’d be more heartbroken over the text to Luke and its lack of an answer, but surprisingly, you’re not. It’s Eren haunting your thoughts, Luke’s just the placeholder for all of your anger at this point. Eren isn’t to blame for all of this, you are, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to face him, can’t bring yourself to answer any of the hesitant texts he’s sent you since that god-awful night.

You’re not in college anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself. You’re twenty-four, and you’d like to think you’re past the phase of your life where you’re handing your heart out to anyone that passes like it’s a Costco sample. You aren’t even sure if you want Luke anymore at this point, if you could even speak to him if you bumped into him these days. He had, admittedly, treated you like dirt, wrenched your heart out from your chest and left it on the sidewalk to collect dust. At least you can hate him, hate what he did to you, hate that you’re stuck on him like a broken record skipping to the same chorus every few weeks.

You can’t hate Eren, though. You can be disappointed in him for entertaining his terrible ex-girlfriend, not aloud of course because he hadn’t actually mentioned her to you himself, but you can do it internally. Even that isn’t enough to make you feel better; not only had he not trusted you, not felt safe or comfortable enough with you to share the skeletons in his closet, but he was likely zooming full-speed down a dead-end street, the way Sasha tells the story. Your heart aches for him out of a painful mixture of pining and fervent concern.

Your only solution so far has been to dive headfirst into your coursework and your students; it hasn’t done much to distract you, but with finals on the horizon, it’s not the worst method of coping you’ve come up with in your days.

Your newly invigorated dedication to your work and your courses are the cause of you dragging yourself across campus to 104, desperate for caffeine and practically a corpse after two weeks of near-constant self-shaming keeping you up at night.

The smell of the coffee shop, earthy and warm, hits you almost as hard as the blasting heat inside, and you practically slouch upon entering, the weight of the cozy atmosphere cocooning you like a warm blanket. If there’s one place that will always feel like a hug, it’s 104 Beans, your coffee shop of choice (and obligation, considering the small size of your campus) for the last six years.

Pieck, your favorite barista, greets you in her typical dreamy manner. “Hi love, same as usual?”

“Hey Pieck,” you greet her with a weary smile. As you dig around in your bag for your wallet, the extent of your exhaustion versus the amount of work you have left to do surfaces in your brain. “Actually…no, not my usual. Can I get a quad shot Americano?”

Pieck pauses where she’s scribbling onto a paper cup with a Sharpie, eyes flitting back up to you in disbelief. “A quad shot Americano?”

“A quad shot Americano.”

“Jesus,” Pieck sighs, eyes wide, “work’s that rough, huh? Black coffee not going to cut it?”

“The shakes will be worth it,” you confirm, swiping your card through the machine.

“Can I please make it a cappuccino then? You’re going to need something creamy to get all that espresso down,” Pieck looks back up at you, eyes pleading.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but–”

“Almond milk, I know,” Pieck winks at you, sliding your cup down the assembly line of baristas working amongst the hissing of the espresso machine and the pleasant, folky music floating from the speakers. “We’re a little busy, so give me five and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You smile gratefully and collect your things, turning to scout out what’s hopefully a quiet table in the corner, when a pair of arms tossed around your shoulders stops you. The familiar scent of fruity perfume tickles your nose, and you slump against the tight grip in relief.

“You made it out of the house!” Sasha’s eyes glow with pride, as if you’d just run a marathon.

“It’s not like I’m a hermit,” you roll your eyes, “I have class five days a week.”

“You don’t go anywhere besides class or your house though, so you still get participation points,” Sasha grins, shaking your shoulders, “how are you feeling?”

“Well…”

Sasha’s expression crumples. “Still that bad, huh?”

“The Luke thing was pathetic of me, but honestly, it’s not haunting me as much as I thought it would,” you admit, pausing for a moment to allow Sasha to grab her coffee from the barista when her name is called, “the one thing that’s really sticking with me is the Eren issue.”

“Like, the voicemail? Or Breeze?”

“Both. I would give anything to know what that voicemail said, but whatever was going on between us aside, I just hope he’s okay, y’know? With Breeze back in the picture and everything.”

Sasha bites into her bottom lip and glances around the coffee shop, checking every face at every table. You know that face; she’s hiding something.

“What?”

“What?” Sasha cocks her head innocently. You nearly smack her.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Uh…okay, yeah, I’m not, but I’m not sure if I should. I mean, you’re actually out of the house–”

“I leave my house plenty!”

“You know what I mean,” Sasha scoffs, “it’s just…if you’re feeling better, I don’t want to throw you back into the deep end.”

You have no words for that, absolutely despising the way that she is completely correct. Whatever information lies behind Sasha’s bitten lip could either make you feel a hundred times better or a hundred times worse, and you’re stuck debating on whether you should gamble or not when Sasha makes the decision for you.

 “Fine, you wore me down,” she sighs.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you point out, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to,” Sasha says, annoyed, “you have this, like, fucking puppy dog look. Makes me sick. Get your coffee, I’ll find a table, and we can talk.”

Like clockwork, the moment Sasha steps away, Pieck grabs your attention and hands your coffee over along with an extra hot cup half-full of steamed almond milk. You look at her questioningly, and she merely shrugs.

“That’s a lot of espresso. I know you’re in, like, your depressed writer phase right now, but I figured a little extra milk would come in handy.”

“You’re the best,” you smile at her affectionately, thinking absentmindedly that you should invite her out to Scout’s sometime. Before she can respond, Pieck’s gaze lands on something just over your shoulder. You can smell him even before you turn around, musky cologne and a little hint of weed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey Pieck. Usual?” His throaty timbre cuts through the thick air, sharp as a knife. Pieck nods politely and gets to work on his coffee, forgoing a trip to the cash register. That tracks; Pieck’s hooded eyes are bloodshot more often than not.

“Excuse me,” you mutter, trying to sneak around him, but Eren’s quicker than you, side-stepping to cut you off.

“Hey stranger,” he smiles down at you, but it’s tense, nervous, “trying to run off on me?”

“Didn’t even realize that was you, sorry,” you lie, offering him a thin smile in return. You spot Sasha gaping at you across the cafe, waving her arms wildly and mouthing What the fuck?. You can’t help but feel similarly.

“It’s been awhile, how are you?”

“M’fine, just really busy with school.” God, you hate this, this awkward small talk barely parsing its way through the jungle of things left unsaid between you two. “You?”

“Fine,” Eren looks around awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Good,” you speak directly into your coffee, unable to stomach the emerald green peering down at you.

“You know,” Eren’s words come out quite like he can’t believe he’s saying them, “I kinda thought you were avoiding me.”

“Did you?” Your voice is caught in your throat, coming out in a pathetic squeak. Has he heard the voicemail? The startling turn the conversation’s taken must be visible all over your face, because Sasha’s flailing arms beckoning you over to the table grow more urgent.

“You haven’t texted me back, haven’t seen you in a couple weeks,” Eren’s incredibly focused on his shoes, kicking one Vans sneaker idly back and forth on the floor and making a squeaking sound, “so yeah, sort of.”

“I’m busy,” you deadpan, praying to any god you can remember the name of that you’ll just disintegrate right where you stand. Eren meets your eyes again, smirks disbelievingly.

“You said that.”

Something in his tone annoys you, something about his insinuation that he knows you’re blatantly lying, that he’s teasing you over your embarrassment, ignites a little flame in your chest. You scowl at him.

“I mean, you must be pretty busy too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Breeze just got back into town, didn’t she?” No going back now. Eren’s face blanches for a moment, features growing pale, but he manages to school his face back into that nonchalant pout that you want to slap right off his face.

“Historia told you?” He doesn’t sound surprised; in face, he sounds almost expectant, like he knew you’d find out at some point. It stakes the embers burning in your chest.

“She’s my best friend, so yeah.” This feels like an argument. It shouldn’t be an argument, but your clipped tone is pushing it in that direction. You’ve spent the last two weeks reminding yourself that you have no claim on Eren, no reason to be hurt or upset, but here you are, feeling that familiar rush of anger coursing through your veins.

“I mean, we haven’t been hanging out or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

Eren’s eyebrows knit together, a little frown playing at his mouth. “I don’t know, I mean–”

“Look, Sasha’s waiting for me,” you point over Eren’s shoulder to the little two-top table, where Sasha has stilled within the blink of an eye, shooting Eren an innocent smile and a little wave. “I’d love to catch up, but maybe another time.”

“It was good seeing you.” Eren looks confused, albeit, a little bit hurt, and you hate it. Why is that so much worse, even worse than the sight of him with Breeze hanging off of his arm? His little pout puts a needle through your ballooning anger, and you deflate, sighing.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Eren takes his coffee from Pieck and ambles towards the door, sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. Unwilling to hold his eyes any longer, you scurry to your table, just having realized that Pieck forgot to put a coffee sleeve around your cup and that it’s been burning your hand for the last several minutes.

“Ow! Shit!” You practically crash land across from Sasha, dropping your cups in synchronicity and shaking your red palms around in the air to cool them down.

“What was that?” Sasha hisses, leaning across the table so viciously that your drinks nearly topple over.

“He just showed up!”

“You didn’t have to talk to him.”

“I didn’t try to. He just, like, materialized behind me and started talking. What was I supposed to do? Run away?”

“Little shit,” Sasha swears, glaring at the door as if her anger can shoot through it like a laser beam, cut Eren down where he’s surely almost a block down the street by now, “what did he say?”

“He asked if I’ve been avoiding him," you say, twirling your wooden coffee stirrer through your drink idly and trying to look as if your heart’s not still beating at what’s sure to be a dangerous rate.

“Well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He got all smug about it,” you scoff, the replayed scene of Eren’s self-assured smirk wiping off of his face bringing you a little bit of petty satisfaction, “until I brought up Breeze.”

Sasha’s eyes grow wide, and she looks around the coffee shop again, as if Eren or Breeze might come popping out of one of the large potted plants in the corners. “That’s actually what I wanted to tell you. What did he say about it?”

“What did you hear?” You narrow your eyes at her, and she narrows hers back.

“You first.”

“He didn’t say much, just looked really surprised that I brought her up. Said they haven’t been hanging out.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sasha snorts, rolling her eyes. Something in your chest that had begun to glimmer, something akin to hope, feels like it just got a bucket of ice-water poured over it. You cock your head, furrow your brows.

“How would you know?”

“Because Hitch and I grabbed some coffee–”

“Hitch? I thought that was a–”

“Okay, don’t crucify me, I know,” Sasha holds her hands up defensively, “it was supposed to be a one night stand, but…I don’t know. She’s cool.”

“Cool?” Even through your desperation for anything Eren-related after a two week drought, you smile knowingly at her. Sasha’s not hard to read, especially when her face goes bright red from chin to forehead.

“Yes,” she hisses, “cool. Anyway, we came by a few days ago, and Eren was here. With Breeze.”

“I mean, I expected as much.”

You’re lying, you’re so lying. The only consolation you’ve had over the last two weeks that you’re not a complete moron is the hope that maybe, just maybe, Eren’s just as forlorn as you, laying around and wishing his phone would buzz with your name on it, wishing you’d pop up at his door with a bag of popcorn ready for movie night. Instead, your worst suspicions have been confirmed, and not only is Eren very much involved with Breeze again, but he had lied straight to your face about it. Ouch.

“They weren’t like, holding hands or anything. Honestly, it looked like they were fighting.”

“Well, what did Hitch say about it?” You don’t even know if you want to know, but with your brain short-circuiting inside your skull, your mouth has free reign to seek out information that will be about as soothing as lemon juice on a papercut.

“Eren won’t talk to any of them about her,” Sasha burns her tongue on her coffee and sucks in a sharp breath, “not even Armin, apparently. She said he’s been moody lately.”

“Wonder why,” you mumble, mulling all of this new information over in your head. Breeze is bad for him, makes him crazy, you already know that. But you didn’t think it would start this soon– you feel like if anything, he should be ecstatic that his long-lost love has finally come back to him. And he can stop trying to replace her, your brain adds helpfully, only doubling the watery ache swelling in your chest.

“Who cares?” Sasha rips open a granola bar, biting into it and continuing to speak with her mouth full. “That’s why you’ve got to stop avoiding him.”

“Huh? That seems like the opposite–”

“No,” Sasha cuts you off, an air of authority in her normally chipper voice, “you’re not going to cower in the corner just because Eren’s back with his shitty ex girlfriend–”

“It’s not just because of Breeze,” you correct her, “it’s because of that voicemail. I have no idea what I said. There’s a lot that’s contributing to my self-induced isolation, trust me.”

“Regardless,” Sasha mouths around another bite of her granola bar, “the only thing that will make you feel better is being around him.”

“That sounds a little contradictory–”

“Trust me,” Sasha interrupts you again, “the best way to make a guy come around is to be up in his face, flaunting how hot and single you are, and to not give him an ounce of your attention. It’s a tried and true method, I promise.”

It turns out that you are a beacon for those with bad ideas, evidently, because later that night, you’ve ended up at Scout’s, cuddled up against the bar with Sasha despite Historia’s fervent protests. If Historia shows up later, just to “check in” (read: see what’s come of Sasha’s terrible plan), you won’t be surprised. She’s prone to being the mom friend and the harbinger of gossip, but she hasn’t shown face quite yet. It’s just you, Sasha, and a handful of regulars, sipping unreasonably cold beers and trying to act as if the early December chill hasn’t rattled you to your bones.

“This is a stupid idea,” you murmur against the lip of your bottle, trying not to seem as unnerved as you are, even after an hour of waiting and sipping. Sasha scoffs beside you, picking through your near-empty basket of peanut shells in search of a full pod.

“It’s not. He’ll be here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragged me out. It only took a week for me to start missing this place,” you run a thoughtful hand along the varnished wooden bartop, “but I’m just still not sure about this whole seeing-Eren-on-purpose thing.”

Before Sasha can answer, the door swings open to reveal the man in question: Eren, accompanied by Armin and Connie, as always, and sporting his standard uniform. Black hoodie, slouchy khaki pants that are tightened around the ankles, and his beat-up Vans.

You nearly sigh into your drink at how delicious he looks, only stopping when the little voice in your head reminds you that the voicemail you’d left him exists. Friends– no, strangers now? The concept of labeling your bizarre, gray-areas-only relationship with Eren brings a chuckle up your throat, one that spills onto the bar.

You can feel him watching you, but to your simultaneous surprise and disappointment, he gives you space, sidling up to the bar a few seats down from where you and Sasha are occupying a couple of bar stools. When Connie throws up a cheerful hand in greeting to you, you tentatively wave back, only for Armin to grab Connie’s attention and turn him toward the bar.

“Ha!” Sasha says triumphantly, looking at you with her eyes glowing like you’re supposed to have reached a revelation of some sort. “See?”

“Did you plot this with Connie?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“No, I’m just a genius, that’s all.”

“I feel like your theory is being proven wrong, not right. He’s not even sitting near us.”

“Because you have the upper hand!” Sasha grins.

“The upper hand?”

“Yeah, he’s giving you some space so you can make the first move, get what you want out of him.”

“And what do I want out of him?” You nearly growl in your frustration, feeling silly sitting exactly four barstools down from Eren with him running through your mind as if he isn’t close enough to just hop up and hug. It’s a genuine question more than a rhetorical one; you’re not even sure what you expect out of him anymore. Another fuck? A fancy date night? A lifetime worth of radio silence, as if Eren isn’t the person you’ve connected better with than nearly anyone else in your romantic history?

Sasha’s brows furrow. “Don’t you know?”

“No! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

“Oh,” Sasha frowns, rubs her chin, “we should have figured that part out before we came, I guess.”

“Sasha!” You whisper-hiss, ever mindful of what you’re sure to be prying ears only a few feet away. “So you have no plan?”

Sasha stumbles, stutters, and eventually, flushes bright red with a shrug. “Okay, fine, I have no plan. But at least it’s something to break up your routine of laying in bed eating chips and moping around the library.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You roll your eyes, but you don’t mean it, not really. Regardless of how things stand, at the very least you can sneak little glances at Eren, take in how good he looks– no, you correct yourself firmly. You hopped off that train of your own accord, and you’re better for it.

With some verbal manhandling, you goad Sasha into a lull of small talk, classes, anything that comes to mind. A pair of eyes finds you, not the emerald that keeps you up at night, but a pair of hazel old-and-new eyes draw to you, and you can feel the scratch of an unwelcome gaze on your skin.

“Floch’s here,” you state the obvious, sipping your drink and giving no physical indication that you’ve noticed him, staring straight ahead as you mutter to Sasha.

“Christ, this was not a good idea,” Sasha groans, face-palming.

“Wow, I sure wish that someone had suggested this was a bad idea, wouldn’t that have been nice?”

“Shut up,” Sasha says, peeking warily over her shoulder, “I think that’s Hitch in the corner, too.”

You frown, confused at the hunched, anxious change in her posture. “Why are you being weird? Go say hey.”

“I’m not abandoning you!”

“Oh, shut it. Why are you really being weird?”

“I, uh…” Sasha twirls her beer around on the counter, blushing, “I haven’t texted her back in like, four or five days.”

“Sasha! You like her, I can tell. What’s gotten into you?”

“It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Sasha moans, letting her face fall dramatically into her hands, “and then it was movie nights and coffee and just…way beyond casual hooking up. I like her, but…I don’t know! I panicked.”

You chew on her admission for a second, selfishly comparing Sasha’s situation to your own. Was that what you were doing with Eren? No, surely not, but was that what he was doing with you? You knew he had loved Breeze, that she had wrecked him, but maybe…just maybe some small part of you wants to hope that he’s moved on, that the coffee shop sighting was a fluke.

You shoo Sasha in Hitch’s direction, demanding she run over to apologize and make nice with Hitch, partially to save Sasha’s first shot at a real relationship in years and partially because you want to stew alone with your thoughts. Before you can get too deep into your black hole of what ifs, a familiar presence is sliding into Sasha’s seat, grinning lewdly.

You sigh; it was only a matter of time before he sought you out.

“What do you want, Forster?”

“Last name only? Ouch,” Floch places a hand over his heart, drumming the fingers of his other hand on the countertop. You recognize his demeanor immediately: pupils blown wide, buzzing to the brim with nervous energy. Floch’s always dabbled in party drugs, part of why you could only stand to be around him in small doses back when you were hooking up.

“Are you coked out right now?” Mindful of Levi’s hovering presence behind the bar, you keep your voice to a low hiss.

“So you can’t call me by my first name, but you can ask such personal questions? Jesus, you really are full of it, aren’t you?”

“Floch,” you nearly groan in frustration, “I thought I made it perfectly clear the last time I saw you that I’m not interested.”

“Why are you being so mean to me, hm?” Floch snakes a hand around your shoulders, jostling you until your face is mere inches from his. You’re more than aware of a pair of green eyes nearly boring a hole in your forehead, and you feel a pang of regret that you sent Sasha away so quickly, remembering far too late that Hitch’s table doesn’t offer a great view of where you’re seated at the bar.

“I’m not being mean,” you try to push at him, but he’s locked around you, “I’m just not interested.”

“Stop being such a bitch, Jesus Christ,” Floch finally lets you shove him away from you, but he’s far from done, “when did you get so stuck up, huh?”

“Floch. Keep your voice down, and walk away.” You try to warn him; Floch may be a pain in your ass, but you’d like to believe that he’s not a bad guy, deep down. You’re too late, however. 

Eren’s materialized between you and Floch before you can blink, before you can even get another word out. His sudden presence forces you out of your barstool, stepping around him to get a better read on what the hell he thinks he’s doing. Eren seems not to notice you trying to insert yourself between him and Floch, and the look on his face makes you step back momentarily.

He looks terrifying. Eren’s nostrils are flaring, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched tight. He’s taking full advantage of his height, glaring down at Floch with such menace that if looks could kill, Floch would already be laid out on the floor.

“Get the fuck out of here, dude. She said no.”

“What are you, her little guard dog?” Floch, infamous for never knowing what’s best for him, scoffs at Eren’s incredibly intimidating posture.

“Maybe I am,” Eren sneers, “I’m damn sure not going to sit there and let you speak to her like that.”

“Who’s this loser?” Connie’s to your right now, gesturing to Floch. You don’t miss the telltale clenching of Eren’s hands by his side, and it hits your dizzied mind what’s going on. Eren’s going to end up swinging if you don’t interfere, and Connie’s there for backup. 

“Floch, please.” You reach a feeble hand up to Floch’s chest, trying to gently push him in the other direction.

In the blink of an eye, Floch’s grabbing you by the wrist hard enough to solicit a yelp from your lips, throwing your arm away from him with a look of disgust.

“Oh, so now you want to touch me, bitch?”

No sooner has Floch’s hand released your arm than Connie’s got his arms wrapped around you, yanking you out of the crossfire. Amidst a series of gasps, Eren grabs Floch around the back of the neck, pins him face-first to the bar. 

“Jaeger!” Levi barks sharply, darting over to the scene of the commotion.

“Is that what gets you off, huh?” Eren’s nearly nose-to-nose with Floch, whose busted lip is twisted in a grimace and dribbling little bits of blood onto the varnished bartop. “Calling women bitches when they don’t want your little dick?”

“Let him go, Eren,” Armin tries to intervene, having already dashed over from his barstool. You want to back him up, but you’re frozen where you’re pinned to Connie’s chest, trembling in his arms. You know Eren’s a little rough-and-tumble, but this, seeing it in real life, is much more terrifying than you could have imagined.

“What the hell? Are you okay?” You can hear Sasha’s voice from beside you, close enough to touch but distant in comparison to where your vision is zeroed in on Eren’s grip on the back of Floch’s neck.

“Answer me!” Eren rears Floch back a few inches and slams him against the bar again. Floch curses under his breath, wriggles fruitlessly under Eren’s weight.

“Get the fuck off me, Jaeger!”

“You fucking wish,” Eren hisses, tightening his grip further, “now apologize to my girl before you make me do something I’ll regret.”

“Eren,” you find your voice again, shaking out of Connie’s grip. You fist your hands into Eren’s hoodie sleeves, tugging hard enough to get his attention. “He’s not worth it. Let him go.”

“Listen to her, Jaeger,” Levi’s already-deep voice is stained with warning.

When you pull at his sleeve a little harder, Eren turns to you, eyes still blown wide and teeth bared. It startles you, but you hold firm, setting your own jaw and shaking your head.

“Let. Him. Go. Now, Eren.” You’re not sure how you’ve managed to muster up the conviction in your voice, but you’re grateful for it, as it seems to shake Eren back into himself. Eren slowly releases Floch and in the same easy motion, he guides you behind him with one long, strong arm.

“You,” Levi points accusingly at Floch, “out.”

Floch’s jaw drops. “I didn’t even–”

“Out.” Levi’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Floch seems to understand at least that. He turns his glare back to you and Eren, scowling deeply.

“The next time I see you, Jaeger, it’s fucking over.”

“Get lost before you make me fucking embarrass you,” Eren says, voice dripping with venom. Floch shakes his head, lets his gaze land on you. A chilling smile breaks over his features.

“Next time, sweetheart.”

“Get the fuck out of here already, bro,” Connie snaps, pointing towards the exit. Floch takes his leave, sauntering towards the door with all the confidence of someone who hadn’t just been pinned against the countertop. A heavy, staticky silence falls over the bar.

“If I see you fighting in here again, it’s over.” Levi’s cold eyes fall on Eren, who nods curtly in understanding. Eren brushes his hands through his hair, rests a hand on the bun at the back of his head. Something strange is coursing through your body; something that tastes like anger, burns like heartbreak, falls bitter on your tongue like envy.

“Are you okay?” Sasha appears at your side again, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Floch’s such a psycho, I’m not even surprised he picked a fight.”

You nod numbly, eyes never leaving Eren. He finally looks back down at you, none of the heat having left his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” It takes you a moment to realize that it’s you speaking, you throwing those words up the inches from your mouth to Eren’s. Eren’s face contorts into a frown.

“What do you mean? He was bothering you, wasn’t he?”

“So you try to fight him?” You seethe. Maybe it is anger, this bizarre, foreign emotion tingling at the tips of your fingers. No, that’s not quite it, you’re not angry you’re just…confused. Hurt that Eren’s frolicking around with Breeze, doing whatever he pleases, and yet, he’s jumping into bar fights to save you from the tangible evidence of your past.

“What do you expect me to do when someone talks to you like that?” Eren hisses back, eyes narrowed.

Sasha’s backed away from the two of you now; you’re aware of your friends staring at you, noses scrunched as they try to figure out exactly what’s happening now. You wish you had an answer to give them, but all you can muster is this heartache shooting out of your mouth in the form of daggers.

“I don’t need you,” you spit, “I don’t need your protection.”

“It didn’t exactly look like you had that handled,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and what are you? My knight in shining fucking armor? Don’t you have other damsels in distress waiting for you?” It’s too far, you know that as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the liquid courage Sasha had insisted upon is making your tongue sharper than you’d anticipated.

Eren rears back from where he’s hunched to meet you on your level, nostrils flaring again. Before you can utter another word, he’s got an arm thrown around your shoulders none-too-gently, practically dragging your stumbling feet towards the exit.

“Outside.”

[bluebunnysart]

Fanart of my own fanfiction (Chimera Teto x Android Miku)

Good news! When I woke up and looked at my art again today, I liked it, so here's the uncolored version! I trust you tumblr people, so here you go! You may view. This technically means I've drawn UTAU Teto (here) and SynthV Teto, but I really want to color this and take my time doing so, so here are the lines before it turns into something else hahaha 😂😂😂 Read More for the stuff I wanted to write last night but was too tired to (also the art time lapse)

I showed like two WIPs of different ideas on Twitter but none of them were this LOL (just goes to show how much I wanna draw and see of these two specifically) but the reason I decided to go with this is 'cuz that fanfic I wrote in like one day really got me excited and it made me really want to draw them as I was imagining more stuff about them. Here I'll talk about what I had in mind

I love chimera Teto, especially her majestic wings, and what I drew here is basically inspired by that! Teto's basically the only "living, sentient" thing around Miku so far (I dunno how to approach adding more creatures just yet), which makes Miku extra interested in her. But basically Miku likes Teto's wings and tail too and is very fascinated by them.

I had an idea where Miku is just holding or playing with Teto's tail out of nowhere and complimenting the heck out of her, and that was condensed into this piece. It was too crowded on Miku's side to have Teto's tail there as well, but the reason Teto's embarrassed (tsundere is nice, aint it xD) is 'cuz Miku is indeed praising the heck out of her. Calling her cute and saying how cool her wings are and whatnot.

The dialogue kinda goes like, "Your wings are so cool! And I really like how expressive your tail is! I wonder what I would do with a tail. It's so cute! Actually, now that I think about it, all of you is really cute!!" (Teto, embarrassed: "Stop talking now.") wwww

Miku does have a kinda tail actually! It's the chain on top of her skirt. As an android, I was thinking it works as sort of a battery plug or USB or something. I can show off more of that later (since it's really small here lol) but she can use it to receive electricity and recharge herself, I guess~. (Note to self: make it bigger?)

I haven't shown off much of my art style, but most (normal) characters usually don't have pupils. (See: this Teto, who's a living breathing creature.) As a result, I decided to give Miku pupils (kinda robot-like) to make her seem like more of a robot. She also wears the thing (headphones) over her ears, of course, which I can also use to make her seem more robot-like. There's no green flashing of code in her eyes right now but I might draw that sometime too, after my loads of other ideas...

Teto's wings aren't fragile. They're probably firm, hard, and could even be scaly/rough (up to my own whims or the reader's own preference). Her letting Miku touch her (wings) is probably a huge display of trust/confidence. Teto's wings are strong enough to carry her far distances and even allow her to fly in bad weather, I think. It's up to Teto herself how much energy/desire she has to do things like that though.

This is mentioned in the fic too, but Teto probably folds her wings a lot so they don't get in the way. She's kinda like a bird. I think her silhouette against the sun or moon, with full wingspan, is probably majestic (I'm imagining the Batman symbol for some reason lol). I know some people color Teto's wings as purple, but I specified black in my fic to match her tail. ^^

In order for her wings to breathe, there are probably holes in the back of her outfit to accommodate them, but they're only big enough for the wings (ellipses/ovals probably): she either tears/cuts holes into the shirts she wears for her wings or they already fit her wings so there's no problem. I wonder if Teto made her UTAU outfit herself in this setting. xD (A girl has to pass the time SOMEHOW plus she's probably at least a little bit handy when it comes to clothes and stuff (survival).)

If, while I'm coloring, I need to make adjustments to the seating and lineart and all that, I will, but I figured I'd show off what made me stay up 'til 5 AM last night and then get embarrassed to post 'cuz I thought I wasn't finished yet. I woke up and I liked it, so I'm just gonna put it in this here blog. c:

I don't know how to color, so coloring will be a trip 😂

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger??? 

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time. 

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago. 

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too. 

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting. 

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand. 

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod. 

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours. 

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would. 

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor. 

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit. 

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did. 

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all. 

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.” 

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck. 

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both. 

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm. 

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name. 

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod. 

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience. 

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be. 

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through. 

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back. 

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive. 

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo. 

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either. 

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.” 

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday. 

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded. 

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

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[rrxnjun]

when nobody's watching ;; hrj

pairing. huang renjun x fem! reader genre. high school au/university au, cheerleader! reader | coming of age, platonic, angst, fluff warnings. alcohol and weed mention, swearing wc. 11k (10.932) a/n. no plot, just identity crisis.

playlist. idontwannabeyouanymore - billie eilish ; patterns - sarah close ; lonely - the maine ; rare - waterparks ; always forever - cults ; snow globe - waterparks ; hope ur ok - olivia rodrigo

where renjun can't seem to figure out who he is when nobody's watching and where you carefully examine and amire each version of himself he creates along the way.

When you’re 14, you watch Mean Girls for the first time. In the dark of your bedroom, with your childhood best friend Jung Sungchan huddling all your blankets to his side, your laptop illuminates the midnight with the gorgeous face of Regina George as both of you awe and giggle at the silly script. When you’re 14, watching Mean Girls for the first time, you are very aware of the fact that after summer ends and you turn 15, you’re going to high school– and the image of having to live through the fate that met Cady, you shiver with horror. That night, you are determined to live through high school with a smile on your face. Too blinded by the dramatized image of the high school experience, you decide that you have to be one of the nice girls everyone likes, because if you’re not, you can’t imagine having to ruin someone’s life just for popularity. You don’t really strive for popularity, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you’re simply too terrified of high school before it even starts.

When the time finally comes and you turn up to the building with a tall, lanky Sungchan by your side, you realize too soon that life is, sadly, not like Mean Girls, and while you’d love to wear pink on Wednesdays and walk around in designer clothing, your small high school in the tiny, microscopic town you’ve grown up in, is too old-fashioned to have their roles divided this way. Sure, the hierarchy is there, and the cafeteria sure does have assigned seats for all the different friend groups and extracurriculars, but it’s not as serious as the story you watched all those months ago with both terror and excitement, making you quickly realise that you don’t have to try hard to fit in with the populars, because it’s truly not that big of a deal.

And so, in the spirit of the new realization, you join the cheerleading squad. I know, it sounds ironic. All this fuss about the fact that Mean Girls wasn’t actually as realistic as you thought it was, all for you to end up with the popular girls anyway. In your defense, it wasn’t that serious. You weren’t even that good at cheer. Jung Sungchan just made you join so you could be at all his soccer matches so he could boast about his abilities the moment the match is over. Curse the boy and his athleticism.

Standing in the heat of the sun, droplets of sweat appearing on your forehead as you tug down on the short cheer skirt, you huff as the cheer captain– Ryujin, as you learned only a few minutes prior– walks around and yells at you with what you presume is supposed to be support and excitement. 

“Y/N! Why are you just standing there?” she asks you, her voice genuinely concerned, but also laced with a bit of annoyance. This is the third time you’ve messed up on today’s practice, and while you don’t really mind that much, you think your teammates are close to breaking down.

“Uh…”

“You’re supposed to be all the way over here!” she reminds you, pointing to the spot next to her on the freshly mowed grass, making you smile at her with tight lips and jog over there, nodding. Of course you were supposed to be there. You knew that…

“What’s going on, Y/N? You did great yesterday,” she sighs, making you roll your eyes. Yes, you did well yesterday– that’s because the formation was still fresh in your brain and the choreography wasn’t as complex. Also, yesterday was much more casual, since it was the first practice of the year. It was spent getting to know each other and sharing snacks in the locker room. On top of that, it’s only been 24 hours and your brain adapts slowly. There’s no way you’d remember the formations you learnt yesterday, when the sun is glazing your high, slicked ponytail, making you think you’re going to overheat and fall to the ground any second.

“I just… kind of forgot the formation?” you smile innocently, making the older girl look at you with wide eyes and an ironic smile, the despair clearly written on her face. 

“Don’t even try to tell me-”

“But I’ve got it now!” you say, showing her thumbs up, trying hard to calm the cheer captain down. You don’t really know what she’s like– from what you’ve seen, she’s nice, yet a little scary when she gets frustrated– but you can only imagine how she’s going to kick you out if you don’t manage to get your shit together and remember all the choreography you were taught yesterday. It’s just cheerleading, for god’s sake! You always liked gymnastics…

“Okay,” she huffs, shaking her head as she faces the front of the soccer field you’re currently training on, making you do the same as you notice the flood of your school’s soccer players get out of the gym, one of them being your dear friend Jung Sungchan, carrying the ball. “From the top! 5, 6, 7, 8!”

Your body moves almost on auto-pilot. Now, I’m saying almost– you don’t really remember the formation that well and you have to keep glancing to the girls around you to match their movements, but you seem to be in the right places at the right times, so Ryujin doesn’t really notice, which saves your ass, if you’re being totally honest. Curious of the sight in front of you, your eyes scan over the crowd of boys laughing to themselves as they kick the ball around, ready for their soccer practice.

You recognise some of the upperclassmen. Yuta is the team captain, and if your high school was like Mean Girls, he’d for sure be the Aaron Samuels of them all. He passes the ball almost gracefully to his best friend Mark Lee (you only know his name because one of the girls from the cheer is into him. He seems a little goofy, but you guess Jisu doesn’t really care), who passes it to another boy, whose name is either Jaemin or Jeno. You don’t really know which one is which, because they always go everywhere together, and when you asked Sungchan for their names the last time you saw them in the halls, he just told you it was ‘Jaemin and Jeno’, and so did everyone else you’ve ever inquired about the two. Nobody ever really specified which is which. 

Making a swift turn with confidence– because this is the only part of the choreography that you actually remember– your eyes are met with Ryunjin that is now opposite of you, wearing a focused smile that only reaches her eyes when you look at her. You suppose it’s a form of encouragement, a silent praise that you didn’t fuck it up yet, and it makes you strangely comfortable. Turning back to the soccer players– because the formation requires so– your eyes continue to watch the small crowd on the other side of the field.

“Chenle, pass to me!” you hear someone yell out, making you giggle as the boy holds up a middle finger to his opponent that was trying to trick him with a childish stunt, passing to his teammate. Stepping from one foot to the other, continuing to half-focus on the task you’ve been doing, you watch the boy that’s now in charge of the ball, your eyes almost falling out of your sockets.

The boy now running around the field with the ball is fairly short compared to the rest of the team, his jet black hair flowing in the wind as he charges through the field. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him before, because you’re fairly certain you’d remember the perfect curve of his nose and the focused pout on his lips if the encounter between you two did happen, the white of his ankles captivating you in a manner you’ve never experienced in your all 15 years of life. 

Yells and curses are thrown across the soccer field, the boy not really knowing what to do as he looks around in confusion. He looks like he’s just as good at the game as you would be… except with your eyes closed; so you don’t really know what he’s doing in the team. But hey, you can’t judge. Maybe he just really likes soccer and wants to learn. Everyone starts somewhere. Focused on the soccer practice, another sharp voice pierces through your ears– the owner of it being your cheer captain, Ryujin– making you halt in your movements and hide behind one of the girls in terror.

“Y/N I swear to fucking god if you mess up this formation one last time, I’m going to shave off your eyebrows in your sleep!” 

There goes your daydreaming. Strange– you thought you had this part of the choreography down, you were 100% certain you were doing the right steps and that the timing was sharply correct. You must have been distracted…

“I’m sorry-”

“The practice is over for today, I genuinely don’t have the energy to deal with this anymore,” Ryujin huffs out, making the rest of the cheerleading squad take their duffel bags off the grass, scattering back inside of the school building.

“I promise to get it down before the match, Ryunjin,” you peep as you catch up to her, trying hard to regain your position as a reliable cheerleader. You were told your smile was quite captivating, something a good cheerleader should never lack, so you suppose you can’t really let that quality go to waste so soon.

“You better, or else I’m kicking you out,” she glares at you, and you can’t really tell if she’s joking or not.

Squinting at the sophomore, you hum. “Are you serious?”

“100%.”

Nodding, you clear your throat. Taking a glimpse behind your shoulder, looking at the boy that made you so distracted in your routine, you take notice of his lost expression and the aimless posture of his hands by his side. He’s almost a little too far behind the whole team, and while you don’t really know how soccer works, you really think he’s not playing the game right, but you don’t pay more attention to it as you look back at your captain with a warm smile.

“I’ll do better.”

This is your first encounter with the boy named Huang Renjun. You learn his name through your best friend Sungchan, and while you were teased for hours about the intentions of knowing it– because Sungchan is one gossiping fellow who lives for drama– you don’t back down and fulfill your plan of learning something about the boy. After stalking the soccer player on instagram for a bit, you learn that he doesn’t quite live on social media (and good for him, honestly), making you curse as the only pictures of him you find on your feed are the ones his mum posted on his birthday. He’s a baby on those and he didn’t even like the post, not paying attention to it from what you presume was pure embarrassment. 

The soccer match is in two weeks, and while you’re not exactly living the plot of Mean Girls, you sit at the cheerleader table for the time being. You suppose getting closer to the rest of the girls can only serve you– you’re a 15 year old with a dream of having the wildest high school years, after all– and it’s also good to hear all the gossip about the soccer team. You finally learn which one is Jeno and which one is Jaemin, and you also learn that Huang Renjun is a freshmen like you–, and while you learn that everyone thinks that he’s insanely pretty (which makes you frown, because you selfishly wanted to be the only one), he’s also insanely quiet.

You tried to bug Sungchan into befriending him. It didn’t work– he already befriended the talkative Zhong Chenle, telling you that Renjun is too quiet to strike up a conversation. You just think he chose Chenle for his big house and the fact that he has his own basketball court he gets invited to four days a week, but you won’t say that aloud for the fear of sounding jealous of the fact that you can never tag along.

The weeks before the match finally pass and you’re at your first high school soccer game. Dressed in a skirt that just barely covers your asscheeks (you complained to Ryujin about it. She told you to deal with it– you’re exceptionally tall for your age), you twirl around with pompoms in your hands, cheering for the team you know by their names now. You quite like the feeling of having the whole school looking at you when you perform your routine in the half-time break, the formation now permanently glued inside of your brain, muscle memory trained hard now as you were watched by the stern eyes of your cheer captain the remaining cheer practices. Squealing and cheering for the team, you get so into the whole process that you feel like the main character of a movie (so glad it’s not Mean Girls), ready to watch the game when the routine is done and you can take a break on one of the bleachers.

Your eyes involuntarily follow Huang Renjun across the field. He does look a little out of place, you must admit. You wouldn’t really call him the sporty type either– his body not as chiseled and firm as his teammates, although you’d say that’s partly because he’s still growing and in puberty– but there’s something about him that makes you magnetically pulled to his presence, not being able to take your eyes off him. 

So when the ball is finally in his charge and he runs around with it, looking like a lost puppy when you play fetch with it on its afternoon walk, your eyes light up, you almost even let out a happy squeal when he charges forward, the last few seconds of the match passing by as the crowd yells out a countdown. The whole thing is so intense you think you could pee yourself, if you’re being honest, and as you stand up to get ready to cheer for Huang Renjun’s goal– the one that could make your team win– the excitement dies down when the boy kicks the ball forward with no real intention, the opposing team instantly taking charge and striding towards your school’s goalie.

You may be a little obsessed with Huang Renjun, yes. But even you can admit that he messed up the match pretty badly, earning your team the first loss of the season, making the following matches end just as badly with the bitter essence of a bad start.

You’re just 15 when you first notice Huang Renjun trying to desperately fit in to a cafeteria table, the only thing that reminds you of your favorite teenage movie that you watched with Sungchan in the middle of the night. You’re just 15 when you see the first version of the boy, not knowing that the next four years spent watching him silently will be just as eventful and interesting, keeping you on your toes the whole time. 

Sungchan would say you were just 15 when you first got a crush on Huang Renjun. 

You’d disagree. Not because it’s not true,

just because you won’t give him the satisfaction of being right.

At 15 years old, Huang Renjun leaves the soccer team after two lost matches (which were, admittedly… both kind of his fault). Cheerleading isn’t as exciting anymore when he’s not there, but at least you get to watch Sungchan… am I right?

You’re already a sophomore when you finally share a class with Huang Renjun. You’d think this fact would help you get closer to him and learn something about the boy, but the opposite is true as your object of interest doesn’t really interact with anyone outside his circle, keeping to himself. Truth be told, you’d do anything to fit into his circle– but with the company he chose for himself in the sophomore year of high school is nothing close to what you represent, the science kids so far away from the cheerleading status you still hold.

While you’re still stuck in your Mean Girls arc, Huang Renjun switched to the Harry Potter universe, it seems. Or maybe it’s just your sudden obsession with the books that’s making you feel this way… Nonetheless, Renjun now reminds you of the Ravenclaw boys in Potions class, except this is reality and you’re only sitting in Chemistry, watching over his every move as he moves through the room and focuses on the experiments.

Sungchan nudges you with his elbow, scowling. “Stop ogling Renjun and fucking do something, I think this is going to blow up any second!”

Hissing at him, afraid his mean comment could be heard by unwanted ears, you grit your teeth at your best friend and roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it, though, I think this is going to blow up-”

“I’m a cheerleader, Sungchan, I don’t know Chemistry, for fuck’s sake,” you sigh, fully commiting to the social norms you were put in. The soccer player only glares at you more after your comment, deciding to take the boiling mixture and spilling the contents of it into the sink with one swift motion of his hand, hopefully not burning the drain in the process and getting you in trouble. You never know with Chemistry. One wrong step and the whole school is on fire. On one hand, you’d love that, but on the other hand, you’d love to experience your first kiss before dying, so you really, desperately hope nothing goes wrong this time.

“Great, now we gotta start over,” you shake your head in disbelief, already taking another cauldron into your hand and putting exact measurements into the flask. 

“As if the last mixture was salvageable,” Sungchan mutters, making you kick him into his shin for being annoying.

“Maybe you can befriend Huang Renjun and he can help us with the experiment,” you suggest innocently, watching your best friend melodramatically scream at your premise. This is not the first time you tried to make your friend to get to know Renjun, but it’s also not the first time he’s declining. You don’t know what’s so hard about being Renjun’s friend, you suppose he has a lot of them– from the looks of the group now standing around his small frame– Sungchan could easily sway the quiet boy with his charm and get him to your side.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I am not befriending Huang Renjun? You can do that yourself, if that’s really all you desire,” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“But-”

“No buts, for fuck’s sake,” he cuts you off, already knowing the contents of your rambling, “sometimes you gotta do the first step, if you want to cuff a man!”

“I’m old-fashioned, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s just… simply not true,” Sungchan grins, making you sigh.

“I mean, yeah,” you agree, feeling heat rising to your cheeks as you speak the next words, “I’m just shy.”

“Y/N,” Sungchan sighs as he looks you dead into your eyes, seriousness dripping off his tongue, “you’re like… the least shy person I know.”

Offended at his comment, because in this exact moment, you feel nothing but shyness when the topic of your conversation is Huang Renjun– your classmate you’ve never even talked to in the first place, but somehow grown interested in the first moment you’ve seen his face for the first time– you shake your head in disagreement. “You know that’s not true!”

“You made friends with my teammates even faster than I did! Don’t try telling me you’re shy when you were playing Call of Duty with Mark in his dorm room the first week you met him,” he rambles, making you grin at the comment. You knew he was jealous of you being friends with his older teammate– it didn’t matter that the boy was more awkward than anyone you’ve ever encountered (while also simultaneously being the most social human being on the campus, somehow. You’d say he’s so socially awkward and so social that it’s awkward at the same time.). At least you have revenge for not being invited to Zhong Chenle’s basketball court (yes, you’re still salty about that. You were decent at basketball. Well… more decent than Sungchan, at least.). 

“That’s not the same, though,” you roll your eyes, making your best friend suggest something that is already known between the two of you, but never truly solidified in words.

“Because you like Renjun?”

“He seems interesting-”

“Because you have a crush on Renjun?”

“I do not!” you scream out, making the rest of the classroom look at you, resulting in you hiding behind your giant friend in shame. You only hope the rest of the conversation wasn’t heard by the whole classroom. You’d pack your things and move away to Nebraska if it was.

“I suppose the two of you are done with the experiment?” the professor inquires, making all blood leave your face as you vigorously shake your head in disapproval, apologetic smiles sent her way as you promise you’re almost done and that you’ll be quiet from now on. Truth be told, you don’t even know if you’re almost done. You don’t know how the experiment is supposed to go. You can only hope the period ends before you have to show the results.

Reading over the manual again, with Sungchan standing behind you and looking onto the white sheet of paper over your shoulder, you try hard to succeed in your assignment. 

“I think I’ve got it,” he mumbles under his breath, gathering the things needed and finally getting to work, motioning for you to get closer and help him. 

“You’re actually smart for a soccer player, you know,” you grin at him, the annoyed look on his face being the result of your successful teasing. Sometimes it’s fun to poke around with social norms and stereotypes– mostly because they’re kind of true. 

“Just watch over the caldron and make sure it doesn’t bubble. If it does, turn the heating down, okay?” he urges you, earning himself a focused nod.

Now, the task at hand is easy. You just watch the caldron– it’s not difficult at all. But as we already established, you’re an individual that gets distracted really easily– especially when Huang Renjun is present in the same room as you, breathing the same air and looking insanely gorgeous even when he’s boredly looking at his own tools, seemingly done with the experiment with his head rested on his plopped-up hand, dissociated and uninterested. The group of boys around him– Shotaro, Jisung, Doyoung and Shohei, the proclaimed class geniuses at Science– look excited and immersed in the conversation, giggling at jokes and playfully smacking each other’s shoulders in fits of laughter when someone says something exceptionally funny. You imagine it’s Science jokes you wouldn’t get. You do fit the stereotype of a cheerleader, in a way– you’re not stupid, but you’re also not that smart in Chemistry, so you couldn’t indulge in their jokes even if you really wanted to. 

Renjun looks uninterested and left-out. You feel the sudden urge to take him into your small circle, to ask him about his day and about his interests. He seems so different to the boy he was last year– while he did hang out with the soccer boys a few times after quitting the team, you didn’t really see him around. You suppose that the first impression you make on people is usually how you stay fixated in the minds of the general public, and while he used to be a soccer player for a while (two months, to be exact), he then lost the status, resulting in him being just… simply invisible for the rest of the year. 

You were glad to see him with a new group of friends when you arrived in Chemistry class for the first time in your Sophomore year. While you didn’t really know how he ended up with them and what they do for fun after class, Renjun was now a part of the Science kids (this is your Mean Girls arc showing through. He does sit at the Science table in the cafeteria, though, so no one can really blame you for stereotyping.). 

In this exact moment, though, he seems to be collectively excluded out of the collective. It’s frustrating– for this is the second time you’ve seen it happen to the boy– but you suppose there’s nothing you can really do or say to make it change.

“Fuck’s sake, Y/N! I told you to look after the caldron!”

“Oh shit!” you yelp out as you see the mixture boiling, the liquid inside turning black with steam, making the whole experiment fail for the second time. 

Sighing, the boy only shakes his head at your distracted figure, taking the flask into his hand and once again, dropping the contents of it into the sink. Looking around the classroom, desperately trying to find something to anchor to so you can fix the situation, the bell rings and you’re left with the relief of knowing that the class is over and nobody can tell that you failed the assignment miserably.

“You’re lucky the bell rang, because this failure is completely your fault and I wouldn’t waste any time burning your skin off if we were called to show the results to the class,” Sungchan mutters, gathering his things.

“You’re not scary. I saw you shit your pants when you were eight.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes, leaving you behind to pack your things and silently ogling Huang Renjun on the other side of the classroom. The small circle of his supposed-to-be friends is now standing with the teacher, excitedly nodding as you hear them talk about a competition in Chemistry that is taking place next week. Interested in anything that includes Huang Renjun, you eavesdrop until you realize the boy was left out of the event– the four names scribbled down onto an application paper by their leader Doyoung left on the teacher’s desk, Renjun’s name nowhere to be seen. 

You don’t think he did anything wrong to get left out. Looking at the neatly done experiment, you’re fairly certain he deserves to be on the list of applicants.

Looking at the group, you just think he didn’t fit in with them.

Huang Renjun leaves the classroom alone, his backpack thrown over his shoulder. After the year ends and he no longer takes Chemistry classes, you never see him with the Science kids again.

“I can’t believe you dragged me to the play just because you didn’t want to go alone,” you whisper to your best friend, staring forward at the stage. It’s almost over now, you can tell because you read the book it’s following– you were always a big Oscar Wilde fan– and you can’t help but giggle at the state of Sungchan. The poor boy isn’t used to having friends outside of the soccer player circle, and while he’s sociable, the image of showing up to the play completely alone, just because his friend Guanheng asked him to, is truly terrifying in his eyes.

“I can’t believe you only agreed when I said Renjun’s in the play,” he responds to you with a snarkier comment, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shh,” you put your finger against your lips, subtly telling him to shut up, “I’m watching the play.”

“Sure…” he mutters, making you smile in satisfaction, for you managed to silence him and keep Huang Renjun out of the conversation.

You’re 17 now. You don’t know much more about Renjun than you did when you were 15, and you no longer share a class with him anymore, so you doubt you’ll ever really get to know him. You rarely see him, since you have no mutual friends or mutual interests, and so your silly crush started to subtly fade into the background. You must admit that you don’t look away when he passes you in halls with the group of drama kids he hangs out with now– you’re a weak, weak woman, after all– but the silent obsession with him is not your main personal trait anymore, and you can tell that both you and Sungchan are more than happy about the fact.

When the play ends and the whole cast scatters onto the stage to bow– you recognise Guanheng, Dejun, Kun, Sicheng and the director, Ten– all smiling brightly beside Renjun in the very corner, who only gives the crowd a shy grin as he bows down with the rest. Truth be told, you never expected him to get into the drama club. He always seemed quiet and reserved, but you suppose this is him experimenting with what he likes, finding the outgoing side in him and getting into more social circles. 

After the lights turn back on and the school theater empties itself out, you find yourself waiting outside with Sungchan. The boy scratches the back of his neck in nerves, stressed from the sudden interaction with the drama kids. Your best friend is quite popular within the school, so you’re not really surprised that he and the charming Guanheng hit it off right away after meeting in Physics class. The sudden blush on his cheeks whenever you mention his new friend makes you strangely suspicious, though, but you won’t get deeper into it.

“Sungchan! Y/N!” you hear cheers from behind you, making you turn around and greet the cast of the play you just watched. Guanheng offers you a welcoming hug that you gladly accept, the rest of the friend group just as friendly to you as their connecting link is. Somewhere in the back of the group, you see Sicheng– the charming senior– trailing behind with Renjun. Too shy to look at him– because you still have the hint of the silly freshman on the inside– you avert your gaze off him and focus on the rest.

“We’re actually going to McDonald’s to celebrate the premiere, are you going with us?” Kun asks, a warm smile playing with his features. 

“I- I mean-” you see Sungchan stuttering, shaking your head in disbelief at the hesitance he shows when he gets too much attention. Jumping in to save the boy, you quickly agree.

“We’re down!” you nod, seeing the man gratefully smile at you as you follow the drama club through the center of the town, towards the closest McDonald’s.

Throughout the whole journey, you’re painfully aware of Huang Renjun’s presence. You two haven’t even said hi to each other, and while you didn’t expect for that to happen, you still feel a little awkward to be invading his space. He’s in the back of the group with Sicheng, the two of them perhaps the closest of the whole club, and you wonder if it’s your fault for making him so distant himself from his friends right now. Did you invade his circle? Did you make him feel uncomfortable? You’ll leave, if that’s what he wants…

Arriving at the McDonald’s, you all order yourself your fast food of choice, the conversation flowing surprisingly easily after Sungchan gets accommodated to the new section of friends around him. Sliding into a big red booth in the corner of the room, you’re pressed between your best friend and Dejun, who can’t stop talking about the new Avatar movie. You almost agree to go see it with him in the cinema, from how desperate and excited he sounds, but then you’re reminded by the fact that you haven’t even seen the first part and you actually kind of hate sci-fi… 

The whole time, your eyes don’t leave Renjun. Old habits die hard, you suppose, but you’re happy to see him genuinely laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that on him before, and the sight of his eyes crinkled up into moon crescents and glittery stars in his dark orbsmakes your heart swell with fondness for the man. Still, though, you can’t help but notice the exclusion from the group– maybe he just doesn’t do well with crowds– as he sits in the corner of the booth with Dong Sicheng, while the rest are indulged in a shared conversation.

You don’t dare to try to include him in your conversation. Frankly, you think he isn’t interested, and it’s also not your place to organize a setting you were just tagging along to, only being invited because of Sungchan. 

In the back of your mind, you think this is it. You think that Renjun’s battle of fitting in is finally over and that he found his place. He looked so familiar with the boys, so eager in the conversation with Sicheng– you’re happy he finally found his place in the world. It’s an unexpected one, to say the least, but you’re just satisfied with watching him be happy from afar.

You pay your goodbyes to the rest of the group after your meals are finished and the clock strikes 10. You’ve never been this close to Renjun before, and you don’t think you’ll ever grow closer. It’s fine with you, though. You’re always watching him– even when nobody else is, interested in knowing about his well being and the trajectory of his life. It’s strange, but it’s natural for you.

When you’re 17, you think Renjun finally found his place in the world– you think he’s finally satisfied with his table at the cafeteria, with the social status he has, with the group of friends around him; although still a little distant with most of them except for one. When you’re 17, you didn’t know you couldn’t be more wrong.

When junior year ends, Dong Sicheng graduates.

Renjun never hangs out with the drama club again.

When you finally turn 18– the birthday party with baby pink party hats and champagne all over the carpet of your teenage room– it seems like everything takes a sharp C turn. You’re a senior now, and while you got admitted to your dream university after many hours of stress and days spent filling out the applications with your best friend Sungchan late in the library, you don’t think you’re ready to leave your home yet. 

It’s kind of weird that you realize the fact at a goodbye party thrown by your classmate Donghyuck. You’ve never really talked to the man before– you just shared multiple classes with him and he offered you weed outside of the gates to the building once– but there’s something about the aroma of the liquor he serves in his kitchen that makes you reminiscence about all the years you’ve spent in the cheer team or sitting at your little desk in the classroom, listening to only some of the lectures, because you didn’t really mind the rest. You also get back in your memory to the spacious cafeteria– the soccer team and the cheer team have joined their tables together after some months, and while it wasn’t like the Mean Girls, you still felt lucky to have such a big supporting system. 

Your cheer captain– Ryujin– graduated one year before you, the role of the most responsible one falling onto your classmate Jiwoo not long after, since they were always friends and you all wanted to lead the team in the fierceful manner Ryujin always has. You swear you saw the ex-captain somewhere in the house a few minutes ago, though, carrying a bottle of vodka under her shoulder as she twirled her slim body around one of the guys that graduated two years ago, the one you always saw Donghyuck hanging around with in the backs of the school halls, wearing leather jackets and snickering with smug grins.

Twirling the liquid in the red solo cup around, standing alone in the corner of the living room (Sungchan left you stranded a few minutes ago, when he spotted Chenle and Guanheng in the crowd), your brain takes you back to all the memories you’ve made in the last 4 years.

You remember celebrating one of the only wins your school’s soccer team got in your freshman year with Sungchan, the tall boy carrying you on his back as he ran around the field in the lights of the reflectors. You remember blowing up the Chemistry lab with him once or twice, and you also remember the whole classroom giggling at you when you had to clean it up, accompanied by the horrified screams of your professor. The memory of the winter formal in your junior year is the most vivid in your brain– you went with your cheer friends, while Sungchan finally scored himself his first date. Her name was Lily and while you found the girl to be quite nice, the memory in your brain is so bright mainly because your dear best friend was so drunk out of nervosity of being with a girl that he puked in the school yard, leaving you to laugh your ass off until tears were streaming down your face. 

Your whole four years were consistent. With the same group of people, in the same school halls and bedrooms of your friends when you had sleepovers as a cheer team building. You always had fun when new freshmen joined the team, making sure they know which Sophomore and Junior boys to be wary of, and while you’re excited for university, you don’t think you’ll get to replicate this carefree and silly presence of high school ever again.

“You okay?” you hear a voice call for you, making you snap your head up and see one of your classmates, Seunghan, staring at you with glittery eyes and a warm smile. You always perceived the boy to be quite the shy individual, but you think alcohol always helps everyone to get out of their shell.

“Yeah,” you nod, quick to make his worries fade away, “just lost in thought.”

“I get that. It’s surreal that we’re graduating, isn’t it?” he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. You didn’t expect anyone to get your feelings, but here you are– you guess you’re never as alone in your views as you think you are.

“It’s crazy…” you mumble, finishing up the cup and looking around, catching the boy staring at you constantly. Not really seeing your friend Sungchan anywhere, you decide the second best thing to do to pass time is to catch up with the boy right next to you, and so you lean closer to him and ask him if he wants to get out for some fresh air.

After seeing him nodding eagerly at your suggestion, you find yourself trailing out of Donghyuck’s house, straight to the backyard, while passing some of his friends on your way– their irises were twice as wide as a normal person’s would be and you swear you sensed the sweet, disgusting smell of weed resonating through the walls, so you were glad to get out before the essence got so deep inside of your nose and make you want to puke. 

As a cheerleader, you were a regular at those parties. You’ve seen enough of Yangyang, Donghyuck, Eunsok… and Renjun getting so high and mixing the drugs with alcohol that it left them out of it for hours, and you don’t really need that for yourself right now.

“Finally,” you gasp when you reach the backyard, leaning on the wall of the house. Seunghan follows you with a cup in his hand that you’re not sure when and where he’s gotten on your way out, sipping on the alcohol as his eyes never leave your frame.

“What are your plans after graduation?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“University,” you say, letting your eyes travel through the backyard, finding multiple people sharing cigarettes and pipes in the bushes, giggling to themselves. “You?”

“Same,” he nods, “I got into the town’s uni, so I’m just gonna stay here, though.”

Humming, you take a short glimpse at him. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Hong Seunghan. All you know about him is that he’s super nice and he always greeted you when you passed each other in the halls, despite not having many shared classes or social circles. Your friend Yeri once told you that he’s got a crush on you when you got an anonymous Valentine’s day card in your locker during junior year, but you dismissed the thought quickly as you realized you’ve never really had a coherent conversation with him. Looking into his starstruck eyes right now, though, you can’t say that you wouldn’t believe it now…

“I’m moving across the state, actually,” you grin, desperate to hide your despair behind a smile. Sungchan got into a university only an hour away from yours, which is the only thing that’s keeping you going right now– while you will be so far away from home, at least you won’t be completely lonely. If you ever feel like it’s too much, you can just catch a train and meet your childhood best friend in the next town. It’s easy. Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

“Why so far away?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, taking your eyes off him again, looking through the crowd in the yard and finding a familiar figure, sitting lonely at the edge of the empty swimming pool, his legs dangling inside as he leans back, supporting his weight with his arms and looks towards the sky, “they had the best History courses, I guess…”

The conversation you’re having with Seunghan is only a background task now, a side quest in your game, as you focus on what you’ve been doing in the back of your head for the last 4 years. You monotonously reply to his questions and hum at all the right places in the dialogue to seem interested, but your eyes are focused solely on the man sitting at the swimming pool, looking more lonely than ever before. You’d make yourself feel silly for paying more attention to a man you’ve never spoken to than to the blushy classmate standing to your left right now, quietly obsessing your whole teenage years with a stranger, but for all you know, this could be the last time you’re seeing him in your life, so you let your inner little crushing-on-Huang-Renjun self have it, at least one last time.

When you turn 18, so does Huang Renjun. He finds enjoyment in all the possibilities now open to him with the new status of an adult, his Fridays spent drinking away with his new group of friends. He wears leather jackets and ripped jeans, and while you find it quite attractive, you don’t think it’s what suits him the most. Hell, even the soccer jersey looked more fit on him– and he played for the team for a total of two matches. His hair is bleached blonde and you once saw him with red, puffy eyes and a little fucked-out smile accompanied by his sketchy friends in the park, so you can only imagine what he’s been doing his whole senior year. You’re surprised he even managed to graduate.

When you turn 18, it’s when you worry most about him. He doesn’t seem himself, and quite frankly, he never has, but this is the most unpredictable and unexplainable version of himself that he managed to craft. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh. And yes, you don’t know the boy, but still, you kind of miss the earlier versions of him, because at least those weren’t as self-destructive and damaging to his health. 

You wonder why he’s not inside with his friends. You wonder why he’s so alone in the backyard, why he’s sitting at the empty swimming pool with a bottle of liquor next to him, why he’s not laughing at stupid jokes and dancing to bad EDM music in Lee Donghyuck’s house like the rest of his circle is. You wonder what made him hang out with the crowd for the last year, what made him let his grades slip and why he never seemed to stay with one friend group for long. 

You guess it’s hard to be his friend. 

Or maybe, he just finds it hard to be other people’s friend. 

Changing himself up just to fit with the others, carefully crafting and molding his personality to have at least someone match his current energy– you wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier for him to be himself and let someone discover the true him for once. Because this surely isn’t him. And the soccer player, running aimlessly around the field wasn’t him. The kid that was good at science was never a good fit for the nerdy crowd either, because it wasn’t him. The drama kid that was decent at acting, but never really talked with anyone from the club other than Dong Sicheng (because even after all this time, you think that was his only real friend), wasn’t the real Huang Renjun either. And now, after the four years of admiring the mystery he is and examining him each passing day, you can for sure say that the version of himself that smokes and drinks in dark alleyways isn’t the real him at all.

After reminiscing on your four years of high school with a smile on your face, you wonder if Huang Renjun could do the same. If he smiles about the many twists and turns, or if he thinks of his high school years as a waste of his youth, a time he can only be reminded of with a bittersweet feeling, never fitting in despite trying so hard over and over again.

The boy at the swimming pool chews on the inside of his cheek, scoffing as he points his eyes towards the ground. There’s an urge inside of you to walk over to him and be a shoulder for him to cry on, be someone to finally offer him some comfort, to let him talk while you listen. 

But you don’t do any of that. 

You keep standing there, watching him, as Hong Seunghan talks your ears off about everything and nothing, making your confused heart simmer with despair at the broken look on Renjun’s face when he looks around for the last time before he takes the bottle standing next to him into his hand and smashes it into the pool with full force, the piercing sound of the glass shattering making your ears hurt as you jump up in surprise.

The boy stands up from his place as he storms off, your eyes meeting only for a mere second before he’s out. 

“Are you okay?” Seunghan asks again, for the second time this evening already, while you look at him with a tight smile and nod your head at the question.

“Yeah. Just… got distracted.”

When you’re 18, you believe this is the last time you’ll ever see him. When you’re 18, all you do is wish him well. 

Walking out of your trashy university accommodation, locking the door behind you– although you think it does nothing for the safety of your living space, considering the door is paper thin and anyone determined enough could get inside in two minutes, if they wanted to– you put the keys into your coat pocket and jog down the stairs, because you fear the old elevator ever since you heard your neighbor getting stuck inside of it one day when the power went out. Checking the time on your phone screen, you walk your way to university.

You always wanted to live somewhere far away. It’s not really about cutting people off or about starting new– Sungchan visits you every other week when he’s bored, after all– you just think you like the comfort the big city brings you. The architecture of the town is beautiful and your university’s History course is the best one in the country. You almost feel a little proud of getting in, moving out of the small hell hole your hometown was, and being competent enough to live on your own at 19, cooking yourself bad pasta for dinner every evening and posting instagram stories of the sunset with the song stickers from your playlist every other week. It’s a little surreal to live the life your younger self always dreamt of, for it doesn’t feel as strange and so brand new like you expected it to. You can’t say you don’t enjoy it, though.

Walking inside of the university building, still not used to the white modern walls and tall glass windows in the lounge area, you check the time and realize you still have at least 25 minutes until your lecture starts. Coming from a small town, you never really learned how to time your departure from home. You always arrive either very late or very early– it’s hard to calculate how long the walk is, when everything is within a 10 minute reach back home.

Deciding to spend some time in the lounge area before the class starts, because you don’t really feel like spending time in the lonely classroom and you also suspect someone’s having a class in there still, you walk towards the crowded place, adjusting the bag strap that’s sneakily slipping off your shoulder.

The view in front of you catches you off guard, the amount of students doing things to your little, anxious self (in moments like these, you wish you had Sungchan with you here. Despite being quite social in high school, it’s hard to make friends when he’s not around to be your isle of comfort; but you guess it’s time for you to be a big person and find friends on your own now), and as your eyes scan the place for an empty space to sit, your mouth drops agape in shock and surprise.

There is a boy with mousy blonde hair sitting at one of the bean bags, down in the university halls. He's surrounded by people, all typing away on their laptops, occasionally glancing up to their friends and talking in hushed smiles and cheery giggles. The boy is alone– scrolling away on his phone, earphones in his ears as the slight movement of his leg matches the beat– though, he doesn't seem lonely.

There are plenty of people around him, all with their kindred spirits, yet, the boy makes no effort in trying to fit into a circle; he doesn't try to match anyone's energy or to desperately make someone like him. In a way, the sight makes you sigh with relief. 

Huang Renjun has finally stopped trying, and while this sentence usually doesn't have a nice ring to it, this time, you don't think there's anything more positive about the fact that he simply just has no energy to change himself to fit the vision of himself that is kept by others.

Taking a few deep breaths in and out, you contemplate on your next step. Is this really how you get to know your high school crush, after so many years of thinking of him? Is university really the time for your first real meeting? It makes you feel kind of silly, the tingling sensation in your fingertips making it hard for you to stay grounded as you shake your head to clear your thoughts, deciding.

Wiping your hands onto the fabric of your jeans, taking another deep breath in and out, you walk up to the boy with a hesitant smile and drop your body to the bean bag next to him, accidentally bumping into his outstretched legs. The action makes your cheeks heaten as your whole body feels hot with uncertainty, but you don't back away as he looks up to you with an uninterested look, merely just wanting to know what bumped into him and made him lose his focus and switch his attention to the world around him instead of his phone.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to quirk up the corners of your lips into the most welcoming smile, greeting the boy you know so well, but also don't know at all. 

“Hi,” you utter, seeing the boy glance at you with pure interest now, eyebrows furrowed as the gears in his brain work by themselves, trying to sort your face. When his thoughts are met with recognition, his irises widen as he works out a subtle smile, the one that reaches his eyes and makes them light up with a glittery sparkle, soft voice echoing to your ears.

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, putting on an awkward smile, “from high school.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he nods, staring at you, as if to wait if you have anything else you want to say. 

The encounter must feel strange to him. You've never really talked, and when you did, it was only when it was necessary. You were just a side character in his life– the one you pass in a game in a very unimportant side quest and never meet again, forgetting about it in an instant– however, to you, Huang Renjun, although he was never the center of your universe, was always there, somewhere in the back of your mind, as you looked after his every move and paid attention to every shift in his existence. To you, he was like the musician you fall in love with when you're a kid, and even though you don't listen to them anymore, you still have their account followed on instagram, keeping track of their every move, making sure they're safe and still loved by many.

Staring at you still, your throat gets dry as you have no words to say. Somehow, you always had so many things on your mind that you wanted to share with Huang Renjun, in each and every passage of his life. But now that you finally had the courage to walk up to him and talk, the words were stolen from the tip or your tongue and it's useless to try to search for them in your brain.

Maybe it's the boy recognising your hesitance, maybe it's his brain reminding him of all the times he's walked up to a new group and tried so hard to fit in with them, maybe he knows the lost look in your eyes all too well from how many times he's seen it in himself when he tried to make new friends; maybe it's the fact that he knows how stressful it is to walk up to someone and try to be their friend– nonetheless, for a reason to you unknown, he does something no one's ever done for him when he was in the position you are in right now, because, truth be told, this is the first time he's been in the position of being walked up to and interrogated with a premise of new friendship. And it's all thanks to you– so he takes the lead and warmly smiles at you, striking up a conversation.

“What's up? I didn't expect to see you here,” he says, taking his earphones out and putting them away to his pocket, turning slightly towards your figure and paying full attention to you.

Playing with your fingers in your lap, you turn your gaze away from him and master up a response. “I didn't expect to see you here either, actually,” you say.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “I guess I just wanted to start over somewhere far away. It felt… a little claustrophobic back home.” 

The two of you share a look full of understatement, because in his eyes, as his classmate from high school, you must have noticed at least some of the glimpses of his numerous friend groups over the time. And while none of them really worked out for him, since none of them ever really felt as if they were right for him, now, in the university halls, although a little alone and a little too ordinary, he seems like himself for the first time.

“I get that,” you nod, not wanting to dwell on the topic for too long in fear of hitting a painful spot in him or exposing that you’ve been watching him the whole time, “what do you study?”

“Art,” he says with an excited smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle up a little and his expression is full of undenied joy and excitement, the one you’ve seen on him for the last time in junior year, talking away with Sicheng in a red McDonald’s booth– hinting that after so many years of changing himself up and trying to fit in with the rest, he's doing what he really wants and desires, with no expectations and harsh looks of others.

“That's so amazing,” you hum in amazement, offering him a genuine smile.

“It's very exciting,” he nods, glad he no longer feels like he’s been made from a broken mold, glad he no longer feels aimless and unarmed with everything he encounters, just like he did in high school in the sports teams and drama clubs, hating each passing second he’s spent doing something he despised, wasting away his life. “What about you?”

“Oh, I study History,” you reply, scratching the back of your neck, “doesn't sound as exciting as Art, to be honest, but I've wanted to study it for the longest time, so…” 

“No, that's great,” he assures you, “although you don’t seem like a History kind of person,” he says, although he doesn’t know you that well– he can’t quite put a finger on when you two have met, and if you’ve ever even talked. Looking at you right now, though, he must have registered you, at least, because you seem too familiar in the foreign place and he finds himself silently holding on to the feeling of recognising at least something in the wide unknown.

Squinting, you curse the cheerleader stereotype for the first time in your life. “Is that supposed to be a diss?” you grin.

“God, no,” he shakes his head in disapproval, quickly leading you out of the misjudgement. “I just didn’t expect you to study History. I don’t know you that well, but you’re like, the furthest away from my image of a History major… but I guess my expectations can be wrong,” he defends himself, palms raised in defeat.

Humming, you still squint at him in uncertainty. “Well, I guess I get that. You seem like an Art major, though, to be honest.”

“Do I?” he asks, a tone completely different to yours– he looks grateful for the comment, his eyes shining with appreciation and maybe just a hint of pride. 

To be honest, it's not really about the way he dresses that makes him seem like he’d study Art– his black high-top converse, beige pants and an oversized brown flannel could be worn by anyone– but his aura, the energy he gives off at first glance, is something that gives it away. This is the first time someone's ever affirmed Huang Renjun's identity, the real one, on top of that– the one he spent his whole life carefully crafting and creating, picking away the bad parts as he tried and failed to fit all the other categories he didn't like– and it feels truly euphoric to him, like he fulfilled his life-long goal and finally found his purpose. "Well, thank you," he says, and you can tell he means it.

You want to tell him how glad you are that he let go of trying to please everyone. You want to tell him how it's great that he finally found himself, how amazing it is that he finally let go of the desire to be liked for something he wasn't, just to be popular or have someone by his side. You want to tell him how you appreciated his existence all those years, how you watched over his every good and bad step, how proud you are of him for the journey he's taken and how amazing it is that he finally reached the final destination. 

That would be weird, though– he doesn't even know that you’ve selfishly watched him all those years, tumbling and turning in the background of the mess his life had always been. So, instead, you mumble out a sweet: “You're welcome.” 

By the way he looks at you, you almost think he understands your intentions. You almost believe he can read your mind and find the pictures of himself in your memories, each and every single one carefully preserved with his essence, although it was different each time and never really stayed the same. 

But he can't. He can’t read your mind and he can’t tell that you know all about him, so instead, he thinks this is the universe rewarding him for being so patient, rewarding him for always trying, and that’s why he feels that he can’t let this opportunity get away from him.

“Do you want to hang out later? I have a class in 10 minutes, but I'd love to walk around and explore it here a little in the afternoon, if you're down,” he suggests, taking you off guard.

The new version of Huang Renjun that's in front of you is confident– something he always lacked, for it was never really him that he was showing to the world– and the new Huang Renjun is charming and magnetizing. You can't say you never felt like this about him before, because of course you did– you wouldn't have known so much about him and his various phases of life if you weren't interested in the boy, but the way you feel about him now feels more real– maybe because it's finally the authentic version of himself that he always was so afraid of showing to others. Electrified by his eyes, you bring yourself to nod.

“Of course I'm down,” you agree, smiling. 

“Great,” he laughs airly, the sound making your smile widen even more, “I'll get your number, then?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, taking his phone out of his outstretched hand, typing the number into his contacts list. Walking up to him all those minutes ago, this wasn’t how you expected the encounter to go. You expected to say hi to him, to maybe hear him tell his major to you before he turns his back to you and walks away, never talking to you again. Instead, you get an invite, a premise of something new, a meeting that excites you and makes you feel all giddy inside, just like the first time you’ve laid your eyes on the boy in high school and decided to secretly hold your heart out to him, if he ever wanted to take it. It makes you feel like you should’ve done this long ago, like you should’ve walked up to him during high school, when you noticed him struggling, but perhaps, this is how it was always supposed to go, how you two were supposed to end up in each other’s lives and how you were always made to finally know Huang Renjun for real.

“Good,” he nods, locking eyes with you, “I have to go now, because the class is on the fifth floor and the elevator is broken, and I also don't really know my way around the building yet, but I'll definitely text you later,” he giggles.

Laughing, you shake your head in disbelief. “Of course. Good luck on not getting lost,” you say as you wave at him, his figure already standing up tall in front of you, his eyes glazing over your features for one last time.

“Thanks, I'll need it,” he tells you, “I'll see you later, then.”

“Later!” you nod, the smile never leaving your lips as you watch him leave and take a shy look at you over his shoulder for one last time before he takes the stairs up, eyes quickly drifting away when your gazes meet.

If anyone was watching you for the last few minutes, they'd think you were old friends. They'd think you were just catching up, accidentally bumping into each other and talking about the struggles of university life, bitching about the accommodation and how the professors seem uninterested in the topic of their courses. The reality is different, though, and although you and Renjun were just acquaintances meeting in a big town, miles away from the home, you can already sense that you and him were meant to have a storyline in each other's lives eventually. 

This was Renjun's first time to be walked up to with a welcoming smile. It was also your first time to reach out and offer your friendship to someone. You changed your roles, in a way. 

And while Renjun continues to find himself more and more each day, the true and real identity deep inside of him, he finally has someone by his side assuring him that it's enough and that he never has to change a thing about himself to be liked. No more masks and no more acting. 

For the first time in his life, Huang Renjun knows who he is, even when nobody’s watching.