#i kept the functions in mind but this is just for fun

[whatthefuckisasweep]

cant sleep … plagued with thoughts.. overstimmed… also starving… time to scroll tumblr till i have to go to class :,((

[thedensworld]

Location App | C.Hs

Pairing: Vernon x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You finally found the right function of the share location apps

Vernon isn’t a man of many words—he’s a man of action. He doesn’t tell you to quit your job at the event organizing company or give up your dreams of becoming a writer. Instead, he quietly hands you an allowance and pays for a writing course, making it clear that he's got your back. He even takes it a step further by personally checking in on your progress almost every day, making sure you're staying on track.

When it comes to food, Vernon doesn’t bother asking about your favorite dishes. He just brings everything you could possibly want to the table. You might crave vanilla ice cream tonight, but he’s already stocked up on both vanilla and chocolate for tomorrow’s cravings, always anticipating your needs before you even voice them. And each time, your heart swells with gratitude for the way he cares for you.

Vernon isn’t one to hang out much, either. Even when he does go out twice a week to catch up with his friends, he never stays long—two hours at most before he's back home. Without missing a beat, he slips into your arms, eager to share everything about his day, all while showering you with the little tokens of affection he picked up for you along the way.

“What’s wrong?” Vernon’s voice breaks through your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blink at him, raising your eyebrows in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem restless. Are you in pain?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

Every time he instinctively picks up on how you’re feeling or goes out of his way to make your life easier, you find yourself wanting to kiss him right then and there, overwhelmed by how effortlessly amazing he is as a boyfriend.

“What’s this?” you asked Vernon as he showed you an app he had just installed on your phone.

“It’s a shared location app. I’ll always know where you are, and you’ll know my location anytime you open it,” he explained, his tone casual.

Ever since you joined a writing course last year, you’ve started attending small gatherings with fellow authors, usually at libraries or cozy cafes.

“Since you’ve been going out more without me, I just want to make sure I know where you are,” Vernon added, his eyes glancing at yours for a reaction.

“You could always just text me,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“I know,” he replied, “but sometimes it’s better if you can have your day off without feeling the need to update me constantly. You should have fun and not worry about checking in.”

In the beginning, you found yourself using the app frequently, but after a few months, it slipped your mind. You could barely remember where the app was on your phone. Vernon, on the other hand, kept checking it now and then, making sure you were safe when you weren’t together. He never intruded but would casually ask about your day, subtly referencing the places you’d visited.

“How do you know?!” you exclaimed one afternoon when Vernon asked what you were doing at the flower shop near his work. You hadn’t mentioned anything because you were preparing a surprise for him.

“I saw your location this afternoon. I was surprised to see you so close by,” he admitted with a soft chuckle.

You grinned and pulled out a bouquet of flowers you had arranged just for him. “My friends and I attended a flower arrangement event, and I got these for you!”

His face softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. “Thanks, babe. I was actually planning to drop by and see you, but things got crazy at work. These are beautiful—thank you.”

With a warm smile, he kissed you again, and the simple moment of shared affection made you realize how much thought he put into even the smallest aspects of your relationship.

*

"Hey babe, I see you’re at the convenience store. Can you grab me a tampon and some sweets?" you called him, feeling curious after checking his location and noticing he was near her apartment.

“Yeah, I’m actually about to head over to see you and pick up your monthly essentials,” he replied smoothly.

"Babe, are you near the snack aisle? Could you grab me some chips, too?"

"Alright, love. Anything else?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"A milkshake, please? Hehe."

"Snacks and a milkshake coming right up," he said, humoring your request.

“Wait, you’re at Kimbap Heaven? Can you swing by the pet shop two doors down? Kiwi hasn’t been eating her regular dry food!” you called after you found out he was out around Hongdae.

"Send me a list of everything you want me to grab, and I’ll get it done," he said, always efficient and patient.

You smiled, feeling so lucky to have someone who knew how to make even the smallest errands feel like an act of love.

As the days went by, you found yourself checking Vernon's location more and more. It became almost a habit. Whenever you craved something or needed him to pick up something, you'd open the app, locate him, and call him with your requests.

One evening, you were lying on the couch when you checked the app and noticed Vernon was at the grocery store. Without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and dialed him.

“Babe, can you pick up some ice cream? And maybe a few packs of those cookies I love?” you asked casually.

“Already got the cookies in the cart, but I’ll grab the ice cream for you now,” he replied, used to your requests by this point.

A few days later, you noticed him at the mall. Your mind immediately went to that cute hoodie you’d been eyeing. You picked up the phone again.

“Hey, babe, I see you’re at the mall. Could you stop by that clothing store and see if they have the hoodie I wanted in stock?”

“Sure, love. I’m already near that area. I’ll check it out.”

It became a little routine—wherever Vernon went, you’d check his location and call him to ask for favors. He never complained, always happy to run the errands or pick up whatever you needed. You loved how he made you feel so taken care of, and he seemed to enjoy it too, never missing a beat.

"Where is he?" you muttered, surprised when you couldn’t find Vernon’s location on the app. His profile was completely offline, leaving only yours visible on the map. You had texted him earlier, letting him know you’d be out with a friend, but that was over three hours ago, and he still hadn’t replied.

You didn’t want to call him. After all, you’d been asking for his help a lot through the location app lately. Maybe he had turned it off intentionally because he was busy, you thought, trying not to overthink it.

Just as you were about to distract yourself, the sound of your door unlocking caught your attention. Kiwi, your cat, sprinted toward the door, her sixth sense alerting her that only one person could be invading her territory—Vernon. Sure enough, he stepped in, holding Kiwi in one arm and a paper bag from your favorite bakery in the other.

You let out a squeal of excitement. "How did you know I wanted this?" you exclaimed, rushing over to grab the bag from his hands.

Vernon smiled warmly. "I saw your Instagram story where you said you missed the cake. I checked around and found a branch that still had some, so I picked one up for you."

Your heart melted on the spot. In a fit of affection, you scooped Kiwi from his arms and said, “Kiwi, listen carefully—Chwe Vernon is your only father. If anyone else claims they’re your dad, they’re lying!”

Vernon burst out laughing at your playful words, but then your mind drifted back to his location being turned off. Your smile faded into a pout as you looked at him.

“I couldn’t see your location today,” you told him, a little hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Ah, yeah, I turned it off,” he replied casually. “Why?”

“If I’d known you were on your way here, I would’ve asked you to grab some tissues,” you said, half-jokingly.

Vernon chuckled. "Tissues? I actually got you some in the car, i accidentally left them. I figured you were running low, so I picked some up yesterday."

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Thank you! You always think of everything.”

He smiled softly, stepping closer. “Honestly, I like surprising you like this, getting what you need or want before you ask. That’s why I turned off my location today. It feels more special.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling even more grateful for his thoughtful nature. He always managed to find ways to care for you in his own quiet, yet deeply meaningful, way.

"You want to get married, babe?" you asked playfully, your voice full of gratitude as you grinned up at Vernon. He let out a laugh, clearly amused by your sudden question.

“You want to marry me because of this?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Of course!” you exclaimed, holding up the bakery bag. “This is amazing! You shouldn’t underestimate your thoughtfulness and how considerate you are. It’s everything I could want.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Alright, then,” he said, leaning in closer with a mischievous smile. “Let’s get married.”

Your heart fluttered, and for a moment, you both stood there, the playful banter hanging in the air. But behind the jokes, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of what he’d just said linger, making the moment even sweeter.

[lexabitxh]

D.W | Feelings

summary: dean winchester confesses his feelings towards y/n.

perspective: third person

word count: 1811

Dean had fallen madly in love with Y/n ever since he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, not like the girls in the magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought, for the way she spoke, and her ability to help those around her.

No, she wasn’t just beautiful as something temporary as her looks, but beautiful deep down in her soul.

She was his reason for why he kept pushing in life. She made his darkest days cheerful and full of light. She had changed his life completely.

The way she looked at him with that smile made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It was an odd sensation, but comforting in ways that couldn’t allow him to sleep at night.

However, he wasn’t one to express his feelings. It wasn’t easy to admit he loved her, but he knew those feelings he felt were true. He wanted to tell her, but the fear of rejection held him back.

So, Dean keep things mutual between the both for as long as he could, but each day it became harder to not wonder what it would be like to date her. Especially when there would times where he’d flirt with her and she’d flirt back. Did she mean it or was she just playing along?

Sometimes he’d envy Sam for how close the two were. She’d always go to Sam rather than him for help or for anything in general. He tried not to hate Sam for it, but he just wished to be in his place. To be the one he she’d run to for comfort.

He wishes he could be the one that kept her awake at nights and in despair, to be her cry, to be the one who she woke up excited for. But that fear always held him back from confessing his feelings.

It wasn’t until he finally had enough.

~

Sam and Y/n had been on the couch watching movies for hours with half a bucket of popcorn between them, and the other half all over them. “Sam! Stop throwing the popcorn!” She laughed, trying to sound upset but couldn’t.

“C’mon, this is more fun than actually eating it” he said, throwing a handful at her. Before she could say anything, Dean had came back from his trip. She looked towards his direction, sending him a smile only to not receive one back.

“Hey, Dean. Is everything okay?” She questioned, looking up at him as Sam had turned the volume down. “Yeah… just been thinking a lot while I was out” he said as he looked between the two.

Sam immediately got the hint and got up. “I’ll go make us some more popcorn.”

Y/n watched as Sam grabbed the container and awkwardly walked away, leaving the two alone. Once he was gone, she patted the empty spot, inviting him to take a seat besides her.

“What’s in your mind?” She asked.

Dean walked from behind the couch and around, sitting next to her. Being so close to her made him nervous- he couldn’t function. He kept quiet for a bit, trying to find the words he had been rehearsing over and over and over again, but it’s as if the words he’s been memorizing had slipped away.

“I just wanted to, um, talk to you about something” he swallowed nervously. He was starting to become flustered. The palm of his hands becoming sweaty and his heart pounding out off his chest. Being around her made him act like a fool.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a nervous. She had no idea if she has done something to upset him. Having a one-on-one conversation always made her uneasy and uncomfortable. She felt like she was in trouble.

“What is it?” She asked concerned. Dean took in a deep breath, trying so hard to just put his feelings out there. Y/n took notice of his struggle and took ahold of his hand. “Dean, you can tell me anything. What’s going on?”

Dean glance down at her hand resting above his. Her hand much smaller as it felt soft and warm. He felt a tingly sensation form inside his chest as she made it much more difficult to act upon.

“It’s about you.”

“What about me?”

Y/n had a million different thoughts running through her mind. He probably noticed the scratch I left on baby… or the tiny stain in the backseat. She became anxious.

“Is it about, baby? Cause I swear it wasn’t me! It’s Sam’s fault!” she blurted out, throwing Sam under the bus rather than taking the blame.

“What? No!” He said, only to wonder what trouble they might have caused. “What about baby?” He questioned, but she simply shook her head. “Nothing. Forget about it. What were you going to tell me?” She asked, hoping that he’d forget all about the impala and move on.

Dean shook the thought away before refocusing on the main reason why he wanted to speak to her. “Right” he mumbled.

“Do you remember how we met?” He said smiling softly. Y/n smiled at the memory. “You were running from the police and I helped hid you from them” she laughed a little.

“We sorta became partners in crime ever since” she smiled. That smile. It was that smile that made Dean weak to his knees. “Like Bonnie & Clyde. Except we hunt monsters” he said with a light chuckle.

“Exactly” she laughed, “You were an absolute mess that day, and yet somehow, you convinced me to help you” she said. “And two years later, here I am with you idiots” she teased.

“I happens to be adorable. I’ll try not to take offense to it” he laughed softly before he getting all serious again. “Meeting you has been one of the best things that has happened to us” he said.

Y/n smiled as she felt the same away about them. They’ve gave her a purpose in life and adventures she never imagined before. “Awe, someone’s getting soft” she teased.

Dean shook his head, “just let me finish” he said. He took ahold of her hand this time and looked deeply into her eyes. “You changed my life, Y/n. You changed me. And for the past two years, I’ve been in love with you” he said, finally being able to put his feelings out into the air.

He felt relieved being able to admit his feelings. A weight lifted off his shoulders as he didn’t have to hide them anymore.

Y/n froze to the sudden news. She never would have imagined Dean Winchester to be in love with a girl like her. She loved Dean. She always has. But Dean slept with multiple girls and so she never envision herself having a real relationship with him.

“Y/n… say something.” Dean grew anxious with every second gone by. “I- for two years?” Y/n was still taken aback by the fact he loved her for two freaking years.

“It was the first time I saw you that I discovered what love at first sight was” he confessed. “You made me feel things I never felt before, things I never imagined feeling” he added.

“And seeing you with Sam made me jealous cause I want to be the one to hold you, to make you smile, to make you laugh…” he continued. “But I understand if you like Sam. I just wanted to let you know how I felt because I can’t carry this feeling inside me any longer.”

Y/n stared up at him in complete awe. The way he had let his guard down to confess his love for her. How his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. The way he became all shy and timid. She has never seen Dean act so… so in love.

“S-Sam? You think I have a thing for, Sam?!” She laughed. “D-do you not?” She shook her head, “no dumbass, I don’t like Sam in that particular way” she paused, “I like you.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

As she caressed it, he simply melted into her touch. “I’ve always liked you, Dean. The moment you stumbled into my life with trouble, I knew that the universe had written you for me.” Her words caused his heart to race, a smile forming on his lips.

“You’re the one who keeps me up at night. The one who makes me smile and giggle like crazy. You drive me crazy, Dean Winchester” she told him.

“I just- I never wanted to tell you because I knew you weren’t one to settle down with anyone. So, I kept my feelings hidden. Though it didn’t took long for Sam to notice and tease me about it.” She sighed.

“Sam knew?!” Dean said baffled at the thought why his brother never told him. Could have saved him all the trouble. Y/n nodded, “I sorta made him promise not to tell a living soul” she said giggled.

“So does this means what I think it means?” He asked. “Well, are you going to take me out on an official date?” She questioned as she gently pushed some of his hair back.

Dean smiled like an idiot. “You could ask me to swim across the ocean and I’ll do it just for you” he said while gently cupping her face.

“If a date makes you happy, then a date it is” he slowly leaned closer to her face. “I’d give you the world and more” he said as his lips hover above hers.

“Dean Winchester being so sweet? Who would’ve thought I’d be the reason” Y/n teased as she placed her lips on his, smiling in-between the shared kiss. Dean smiled back, kissing her softly and slowly. He had dreams of this moment and finally it was happening. It was magical and anything he never imagined before.

As they pulled away, they both stared at each other like complete idiot. “Finally!” said Sam as he entered the room. “About damn time. I was getting tired hearing you both yap about each other” he said as he took a seat on the singular couch.

“Now if you excuse me, I got a movie to finish” he said while throwing some popcorn towards them before taking a handful into his mouth. “Bitch” said Dean as he placed his arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

“Jerk.” Sam replied with a mouthful while turning the volume up and resuming to watch the movie.

Dean simple smiled to himself as he had everything he’s ever wanted in life. He had his brother by his side and the girl of his dreams wrapped around him. He couldn’t be happier than in that moment.

[azrielwingspan]

'SOMEONE' (AZRIEL X READER)- PART 2

Summary: You are convinced that Azriel was the one to send the note. Anxious about facing him, you lose yourself in your head but strangely, things are turning out...weird.

Warnings: Mild swearing

A/N: Thankyou so much for the response on the first part you guys! It was supposed to be a one shot but due to popular demand, I wrote down a second. Not gonna lie, I'm a bit nervous about this because peer pressure haha. Really hope this meets expectations. Did my best to make it fun and playful.

Read Part-1 here.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'It's hard not to pry when you're involved.' The words kept flitting through your mind , jumbling your thoughts and stirring up a butterfly party in your stomach.

You knew it was from Azriel. Who else could it be ? Not believing it at first, you tried to think of all other possibilities and came up with zero. No else could possibly know about it.

Except him.

After stewing upon the unexpected turn of events for a good couple of hours, you did something anyone else in your position would've done.

You tried to hide.

From a spymaster.

You were really setting standards in the department of intelligence.

It had all started when you were having lunch with Cass and Mor at the House of Wind. "How was your new book?" Mor asked stuffing herself with the mashed potato in front of her. "It was alright. It just felt a little flat." you stabbed at the piece of chicken on your plate.

"Why the gloomy face? Everything okay?" Cass looked at your face intently. You sat up a little straighter, forcing a small smile onto your face. "I'm great."

"Are you on something?" Your head shot towards Mor, a flabbergasted look on your face.

"What made you say that?"

"You've been acting weird since yesterday and just this morning you stared off into space with a stupid smile on your face. Now, you're gloomy. I've seen this before--"

"Oh for Mother's sake, I'm not on anything Mor." A choked laugh burst out of you at the incredulity of it.

"Is it because of the stable boy thing yesterday? Shit Y/N, we didn't know you still --"

You narrowed your eyes at Cass , daring him to finish that statement. He immediately backed off, putting up his hands in the air.

"Just a concerned friend." He said with a teasing smile.

"You guys are the worst." Soft laughter was shared between the three of you before disaster struck.

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell making your head whip towards it. Eyes widening a fraction, your brain was thrown into a whirlpool of thoughts , each one fighting for dominance over the other. You knew with absolute certainty that it was him. There was no one else in the house. You also knew the sound of his footsteps but that was a fact to be pondered upon on a different day.

Wait, he was a spymaster. Why was he making a sound in the first place?

He wants you to know. Doesn't want to catch you off guard. The still functioning part of your brain helps you out.

"Are you having a seizure?" Mor's voice registered in your head.

"No , but I might." you muttered under your breath, your body reacting before your mind could give it a command. Almost stumbling from your chair all the while trying to look as unbothered as possible, you excused yourself from the table mumbling a reason to your companions.

Exit points available. The stairwell. Your mind supplied. YOU CAN'T PASS BY HIM. DO BETTER.

The plant. - THE PLANT ?! What were you supposed to do ? Photosynthesize yourself ?!

Under the table.- Ah yes. Have a front row view to his crotch. Way to go.

Balcony.- We don't have WINGS! You screamed at yourself.

The door to your right.- Finally. A good option.

Your face must have exhibited a plethora of emotions during the internalized battle with yourself because Mor and Cass were staring at you like you had two heads.

"Y/N. Please sit down. Something is seriously wrong." Cass said rising from his chair.

"No. No. I just forgot to do something very very important. I'm going to be screwed. I just need to---"

"Have lunch. I'll help you out with whatever it is." The voice like night whispered over your skin setting off goosebumps in its wake. His scent enveloped you, taunting and teasing your senses. It almost seemed to whisper- Look at me.

So you did.

You had expected a smirk or a smile or even a twinkle in his eye. Nothing. No hint or trace of what had happened. No clue to suggest that he knew or that he was the one to send the note.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn't him but someone else playing a joke on you?

"No it's alright. I..." You didn't get to finish the sentence as he pulled your chair back and motioned for you to sit down.

Sighing out loud you returned to your place at the table trying not to look at Azriel as he took the seat across. "What did you forget?" Cass was starting to sound suspicious. Racking your brain for a quick and believable answer, you blurted out "I have to respond to a letter. A very important one."

The double meaning of your reply hit you the moment it left your mouth. Your body betrayed you and turned your gaze towards Azriel.

Nothing. Blank as a slate.

Starting to grow frustrated, you stabbed into your chicken a little too enthusiastically.

"It's already dead." Azriel said dryly, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Mor let out a snort and thankfully started to recall a conversation she had with a friend of hers. You could feel the tension leave your body as the conversation and attention was steered away from you.

Get your shit together.

Fortunately, all of you were done eating not long after and everyone went back to their duties. Azriel hadn't said or done anything for the rest of the afternoon and you were seriously starting to doubt if you were wrong.

You made your way back to your room trying to make sense of your emotions along the way. There was a sense of relief that Azriel didn't know and yet it was tinged with the undertones of disappointment that he didn't know after all.

Did you want him to know or did you not?

You didn't know. UGH. Idiot.

Stepping into your room, you almost missed the note that caught under your foot.

Fuck. Another one.

Heart thudding painfully, you picked it up with trembling hands. It read:

Anyone is capable of falling in love with your heart. Me? I want to be the someone you give it to. -'Someone'

A/N: I did not intend to end it this way at all but here we areeee. Hope you guys enjoyed it !

TAGLIST : @crazylokonugget , @hayrunnwr , @fxckmiup , @wildlyobserving , @harrystylesfan2686 , @63angel , @charlotteintumbleland , @willowpains , @nyx-the-alien , @acourtofbatboydreams , @marina468 , @anuttellaa , @kalulakunundrum , @amygdtjhddzvb , @lulu22156

[mydearestbeloved]

#0.3 [Rough Draft]

CW: Implied Yandere, a little NSFW

⚠️ POTENTIAL SPOILER ALERT to my "Trial Player"-AU (Imagine 1#).

Note:

Any 'Rough Draft' like this is more like a 'What-If's scenarios: not yet cannon/can be cannon or not cannon at all in my story in the future (I'll decide as I go).

I have too many ideas but too little time, so I'll just post them as drafts here until I have the time to edit them thoroughly. If I do decide to include these scenarios in my story, then the scenarios' [Rough Draft]-status will be updated as [Chapter].

_____

Draft I:

You should’ve known this was a terrible idea from the start.

After that... debacle with Jinwoo, where he had barely let you leave the bed, you thought a change of space—a brief moment to breathe—might clear your head. Meeting your friends seemed like a good idea at the time. Seemed.

But here you were, sitting at a café, your friends’ relentless teasing ringing in your ears, Jinwoo seated beside you, his usual silent presence somehow looming even larger today. He wasn’t supposed to be here! You were supposed to meet them alone, but he had tagged along, and the moment your friends saw him, the mood shifted.

They hadn’t missed the telltale signs: the slight limp in your step, the fading marks along your neck barely hidden by your collar, and of course, the possessive way Jinwoo’s hand rested on your thigh the entire time.

“Oh my God, (Name), you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” one of your friends teased, leaning in with a grin.

You shot them a glare, face heating up as you tried to deflect. “It’s not—”

“Oh, it’s definitely what it looks like,” another friend chimed in with a knowing smirk. “When were you planning to tell us about this insanely attractive boyfriend of yours?”

Jinwoo’s hand squeezed your thigh slightly, as if in agreement with their assessment, his lips twitching with amusement, though he stayed quiet.

Your friends kept piling on, their teasing relentless. “You’re practically glowing! We knew something was up when you kept dodging our calls last week.”

You huffed, wishing you could just melt into the chair. Meeting them was a mistake. A big one.

“Anyway,” one of them said, waving off your protests, “since you’ve been keeping this little secret, we’ve decided for you. You guys are joining us on a couples’ trip next weekend. No excuses!”

“Wait, what?” you blurted out, eyes widening. “Couples’ trip? I—”

But it was too late. Your friends were already planning it out, excitedly discussing dates, locations, and accommodations. They even showed you the website of the camping site they had in mind—complete with cozy cabins, perfect for romantic getaways. It was absurd, and you opened your mouth to protest again, but Jinwoo’s quiet chuckle beside you sent a shiver down your spine.

“I think it sounds fun,” he said, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking.

And that was how you found yourself roped into a couple’s trip.

---

A few days later, you were trudging through a forest, heading toward a cabin that was meant for “lovers”—according to the marketing brochures your friends had gleefully shown you. It had been a relatively peaceful day, with your friends and their partners chatting and laughing.

And as if fate couldn’t resist throwing more absurdity your way, a dungeon break occurred nearby. Just your luck.

You and Jinwoo were more than capable of clearing this dungeon while your friends struggled to set up camp. Jinwoo had taken care of the magic beasts with ease, and though you helped, it was clear that the two of you were functioning on an entirely different level. It was like a strange, dangerous couple’s date, where you fought off monsters instead of enjoying a romantic picnic.

Once the raid was done, the two of you rejoined your friends, who were none the wiser, completely oblivious to the destruction you had just prevented nearby. They were already by the fire, chatting and making s’mores as if nothing had happened.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop glancing at Jinwoo, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. That look in his eyes—predatory, intense—told you that this evening wasn’t going to end peacefully, no matter how much you tried to keep things normal.

Later, after your friends had all retreated to their own cabins, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the middle of yours, Jinwoo’s eyes never leaving you. His presence filled the space, making it feel smaller than it actually was. The two of you had been silent for a while, but you knew exactly where this was headed.

“Jinwoo…” you began, but the words stuck in your throat.

He was already stepping closer, his movements deliberate and slow. As usual, there was no need for words between the two of you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. You had known this was coming from the moment you agreed to this trip. Hell, you had known it since the dungeon raid, where he’d been sneaking glances at you the whole time, clearly eager to finish the fight so he could focus on you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him—you did, more than you’d care to admit. But this was... ridiculous. You had literally just cleared a dungeon, and now—

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, backing up toward the bed as Jinwoo’s hands found your waist.

He smirked, his voice low and dangerous. “And yet, you can’t resist me.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you against him, his lips crashing down on yours, and all your protests melted away as heat pooled in your stomach.

---

Hours later, the cabin was bathed in the soft glow of the early morning light, the quiet sounds of the forest outside filling the air. You lay on the bed, skin slick with sweat, your body aching in the best possible way. Jinwoo was beside you, looking comically refreshed, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire night ravaging you like a man possessed.

You, on the other hand, were starting to have an existential crisis.

You let out a muffled scream, covering your face with a pillow.

Jinwoo chuckled softly, pulling the pillow away so he could look at you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. “You love it.”

You shot him a look, exasperated but strangely satisfied. “You’re insatiable.”

His smirk deepened, his dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “Only for you.”

And the worst part? You did love it.

_____

Draft II:

You knew this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Yet here you were, sitting at a cozy café with your friends, Jinwoo at your side, hovering in his usual subtle but unmistakable way.

It had been only a few days since that exhausting week you'd just survived with Jinwoo, and your legs were finally functioning again. You thought maybe a change of pace would help you clear your mind, escape this suffocating intimacy. Little did you know it would only drag you deeper into the mess you’d been trying to avoid.

At first, it had seemed innocent enough—a casual meetup, a chance to reconnect and breathe after being wrapped up in his world for so long. But the moment you arrived at the café, it became painfully obvious you had made a grave miscalculation.

Now, as you sat there, trying to enjoy a peaceful brunch, your friends’ teasing was just as relentless as Jinwoo’s gaze—both of which were burning holes through you.

“You look glowing today, (Name),” one of your friends chimed in with a mischievous smirk, clearly picking up on the awkward vibe between you and Jinwoo. She nudged you playfully, while her boyfriend leaned in with a knowing grin. “Is it just me, or does this feel like a post-honeymoon glow?”

"Oh! Should we be expecting wedding bells soon?"

You almost choked on your drink. Jinwoo, ever the master of composure, simply sipped his coffee beside you, acting as if he wasn’t responsible for every mark, every limp, and every damn second of the previous week’s exhaustion. His hand, however, was resting possessively on your thigh under the table, and you swore he tightened his grip at the word "honeymoon."

Jinwoo really looked as if he is considering the idea, leaning forward slightly, “Well...” Jinwoo’s voice was smooth, teasing, but you shot him a look so sharp he instantly backed off, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Nope, definitely not just you,” another friend added, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “(Name), are you finally going to tell us why you’ve been MIA for days? Or should we just assume?”

You opened your mouth, desperately searching for an excuse, but nothing came out. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t make this worse? Jinwoo wasn’t helping either, his presence practically daring you to lie about where you had been.

“We’ve been busy,” he said casually, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Right, (Name)?”

Your friends all shared knowing glances, their smiles growing wider with every second of your flustered silence. One of them even leaned in, whispering, “Busy, huh? I bet.”

You could feel your face burning. Meeting your friends was supposed to be a distraction, a way to regain some semblance of normalcy after Jinwoo had practically claimed you for a solid week. Instead, this brunch had turned into an interrogation, with your friends relentless in their teasing and Jinwoo not even pretending to let you off the hook.

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a couples brunch,” you muttered, trying to change the subject as you glanced around the table. Every single one of your friends had brought their partner, and somehow, you had been roped into this nightmare of a double date. “Seriously, guys, why?”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t want this,” one friend teased, leaning across the table with a wink. “You and Jinwoo are practically glued together these days. We figured you’d appreciate the company.”

Company? No, what you needed was a break, some air, some distance. But no, here you were, stuck in the middle of a couple's date with your overly-attentive not-boyfriend who had literally spent an entire week making sure you couldn't ignore him. The worst part? The teasing wasn’t the only problem. Jinwoo’s subtle touches under the table—the way his hand was lingering, the way his thumb traced small circles on your thigh—was doing nothing to help your composure.

“We thought it’d be fun,” another friend chimed in, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “You know, catch up, see how you two are doing... especially after your long disappearance.”

Jinwoo leaned in, his voice a low murmur just for you. “You didn’t tell them about us?”

You shot him a side-eye, the corner of his lips tugging upward in amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing. The bastard.

“No,” you hissed quietly, leaning away from him slightly. “Not like this.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, and suddenly you were very aware of how close he was. How possessive his presence felt. It didn’t help that your friends continued to pry, clearly enjoying how flustered you had become.

“So,” one of them asked, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Jinwoo, “what’s it like being official now? You two must be spending a lot of time together.”

Jinwoo’s hand moved higher on your thigh, and you nearly jumped out of your seat.

“(Name)’s been getting plenty of rest,” he said, completely unbothered by the chaos brewing inside you. “But she works hard.”

Your gaze shot to him, wide-eyed and mortified. He met your stare with an innocent smile that did nothing to mask the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying this—this game, this playful torture. And the worst part? Your friends were none the wiser.

“Jinwoo!” you scolded softly, but he just chuckled, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

You could feel your pulse quicken, embarrassment and exasperation mixing with something more dangerous. You were supposed to be here to relax, to enjoy some time away from all of this... tension. But no, Jinwoo had other plans, and apparently, your friends were unwitting participants.

One of your friends leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “So when’s the next couple's trip? Should we plan something fun, maybe a getaway?”

You groaned inwardly. A getaway? The idea of spending more time alone with Jinwoo in this relentless teasing atmosphere made your stomach twist. Not because you didn’t want to—God, did you want to—but because the last week had shown you what Jinwoo was capable of. And the last thing you needed was to be subjected to that level of intensity again in front of your friends.

“Maybe after some... recovery time,” you muttered, earning a few raised eyebrows from the group.

“Oh?” your friend asked, amused. “Need some recovery time, huh?”

You glared at her. “You have no idea.”

Jinwoo chuckled beside you, his hand moving slightly again, and you swore he was getting some twisted enjoyment out of watching you squirm. The thought was enough to make you grit your teeth and shoot him another pointed glare, though it only seemed to fuel his amusement.

“Well, whenever you’re ready for that trip,” your friend teased, “just let us know. We’d love to see more of this dynamic you two have going.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and trying to will away the blush creeping up your neck. Yeah, you really needed a change of pace. But clearly, this was not it. Not with Jinwoo sitting so close, his hand lingering on your thigh, and your friends blissfully unaware of the storm brewing under the table.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid them next time. At least until you could figure out how to survive Jinwoo’s relentless attention without completely losing your mind.

End Note:

I want to try writing smut, already started some drafts, but can't bring myself to continue them due to embarassment.

So, here's a sneak peak through alternative scenarios--aftermath of what I dubbed for now, thee "Tangled Shadows"-Arc (which is *Spoiler Alert!*: 24 percent of (Name) having an existential crisis / 7 -ty six percent of Jinwoo being horny. I'M SORRY!)

The "Tangled Shadows Arc" will be a lot further into the story. So please, DON'T actively wait for it to be out, because it'll be torture what with my schedule now. 🥲

[junosmindpalace]

heya, Dr. Stone headcanons of the Wise Generals' (all or any ones you prefer) sleeping habits? Pretty please🥺

i’m sooo indecisive when it comes to headcanons i just end up talking about every perspective! but i hope these are fun! sorry some of these are shorter than others </3 i had more ideas for ryusui and senku

-> SENKU:

I’m pretty sure it was shown or implied very briefly in the show, but I believe Senku is a kind of person who sleeps pretty neatly.

Maybe not like a vampire on his back with his hands crossed over his stomach, but he mostly keeps to himself; his limbs aren’t usually all over the place, and he’s probably just curled within himself on his side. 

I don’t think it’s impossible for him to splay all over, but usually he’s a pretty still sleeper. Maybe he shifts around a little, a stray arm or leg here and there, and unless it’s super hot or cold or he’s unnerved by something, he’ll mostly just stay curled within himself. 

I think it was also shown that he tends to stay up pretty late doing science related things, so maybe a little bit of a night owl, too. 

Has at least once or twice pulled an all nighter doing science related things. Sometimes he isn’t even aware of the time, and he ends up accidentally staying awake all night (which he feels the effects of full force in the morning when he has school). 

It also seems like when he’s nervous about something, he can’t rest easily, either. So most of the time he should be spending sleeping is instead used for problem solving. 

He knows that, logically, he should be investing time and effort into developing and upholding a more than adequate sleep schedule in order for him to function and continue on with his hobbies at 100%. Buuut…he’s an eager person, and, for a lot of the series, a teenager. So his sleep schedule is probably a little all over the place. 

He’s probably out sometime between 12-2am on average though; that’s typically when he starts yawning and his body starts feeling heavy. 

Usually he just ends up exhausting himself with experiments, however, and retires to bed when the words in his textbooks begin to blur by curling himself up under a blanket. 

Doesn’t mind sleeping in the dark, and doesn’t fully mind sleeping with a small light. Too much of either, however, might set him a little on edge or make it harder for him to fall asleep.

Not a deep sleeper but not a light sleeper either. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he’s not going to go out of his way to do anything particularly different. He’ll sleep as usual; depending on the person, he might choose to put some distance. 

If it’s with you, he may just fall asleep facing you. That’s the only notable thing. 

Overall just a generally calm and quiet sleeper. 

-> GEN:

Also similar to Senku in a lot of ways, such as in that he doesn’t sprawl around too much. 

He’s usually curled up, perhaps even more so than Senku, however, and out like a light. It’s funny for me to imagine him a deeeeep sleeper. 

But in actuality, I think he’d be an inbetween of heavy and light sleeper. When he’s nervous about something, he’s much more aware of himself and his surroundings, so the slightest off detail will have his eyes wide open. 

Usually, though, he can be a pretty heavy sleeper. Maybe a mouth breather. Maybe snores just a little (on occasion). 

Sleeps fairly regularly despite his celebrity status and being a student, or at least finds it harder to pull all-nighters. But like anyone else, he may get restless if he feels nervous about something. 

If I remember correctly, the fanbook mentioned details about his family life not being so great (either that or its some headcanons that resonated with me based on the almost sad expression he makes in reference to his family). Perhaps the exhaustion or stress from that either kept him awake or had him passing out when it came to sleep.

Maybe sleeps in somewhat of a fetus position? Wakes up with his neck killing him (projection). 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space, he might be flirty about it, depending on who you are.

Teases you slightly in every scenario, however; it only depends on what kind of jokes he's making. 

Also depending on his mood, he may start up some late night convos before heading off to sleep, usually if he’s got something on his mind.

In the same bed, I think he would want to be cuddly, but just wouldn’t be able to handle the sweat and discomfort I think, so he goes back over to his side fairly quick.

Has a thousand alarms for the morning because he has a tendency to sleep in or immediately fall back asleep when he wakes up.

-> RYUSUI: 

I can imagine Ryusui’s sleeping habits going either way.

On the one hand, Ryusui can be a pretty deep sleeper. With his pampered lifestyle, he probably has heavenly bedroom accommodations; luxury bed, high brand pillowcases and mattresses and what not. He also doesn’t have very many worries in his life. So he probably sleeps like a rock at night. I can also see that deep sleep habit occurring even in the stone world, much to everyone’s disgust.

At the same time, Ryusui can be weirdly alert. Perhaps this would be more so stone world, but I can see him being disturbed by small changes in the environment and waking up to them.

His sleeping schedule may also be all over the place, but generally organized and well kept up. I imagine that he doesn’t fall asleep too late. 

He does occasionally pull an all-nighter if he’s working on something of his, however. When his mind is set on something, sometimes he can get caught up in it. 

Francois’ character profile lists events pre-petrification, saying they developed “a special drink for Ryusui, who has little time for sleep, to help him recover from fatigue after a short night's sleep.” I forget if context is ever given for this, but it sort of implies Ryusui doesn’t sleep a lot. So the all-nighters may be more frequent than expected. 

Either way, he’s probably one of the first people awake at any time, around maybe 5-6am. He likes to spend his days being productive, so no matter what, he’s typically up bright and early, no matter what time he goes to sleep at. 

I can imagine him with a somewhat firm expression while he sleeps, again, mostly during stone world. The lifestyle sort of toughens him up, makes him a bit more on edge constantly. It’s reflected in his face while he’s sleeping, mouth firm, eyebrows furrowed. He may also have this kind of face while he sleeps pre-stone world too, however, almost like he’s always in a perpetual state of slight unease despite his optimism. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with another person, he probably tries to be mindful of differing sleeping schedules…but either way, he might accidentally wake you with crashes depending on what he’s doing.

If he’s with you in bed though, I think he might like to cuddle, at least at first. Until he gets all uncomfortable and accidentally pushes you away.

But you get to share in all his bed luxuries! And all of the things Francois does to help keep Ryusui awake throughout the day also extend toward you on his order. 

-> UKYO:

One of the more calm sleepers. 

He’s another person who’s, again, like Senku, in that he just lies on his side the entire night.

Doesn’t move around too much when he’s sleeping, maybe just to readjust his blanket or whatnot. At most, he’s just repositioning himself to be more comfortable.

I think he too would have a bit of a firm face when he sleeps. 

He may like to hold something when he’s sleeping. It’s usually just the pillow he’s sleeping on top of, but sometimes he might yank it down enough so it's almost like he’s holding it to his chest. 

Also maybe curled up in somewhat of a fetal position, also wakes up with a killer neckache on occasion. 

If he’s sharing a sleeping space with someone, he probably just sticks to his side of the bed. 

Doesn’t mind cuddling, but like most people, that probably just means you’ll break away later in the evening when the two of you fall asleep. 

Might try to watch shows and movies he’s wanted to catch up on only to fall asleep curled up on the couch (you don’t have the heart to wake him) (it's why you have a blanket on your cushions now) (more projecting).

Also may have a billion alarms, all at absurd times. He gives you an apologetic kiss on the forehead if it disturbs your own slumber.

-> CHROME: 

Ultimate mouth breather, ultimate blanket hog, ultimate BED hog (exaggeration). 

I’m mostly kidding, but out of all five, I can imagine Chrome to be one of the more chaotic sleepers. 

His leg is in the air, he’s starfishing, he’s snoring. He’s the whole insufferable package.

At the same time, however, I feel like it’d be funny if people anticipate Chrome to be such a difficult sleeper, only for him to be the exact opposite and instead sleep like a sound baby. 

I can see him being pretty hyperactive during the day and then crashing out at night so much so that he hardly moves, but mostly on days where he’s working himself to exhaustion. 

So take it either way.

If he’s sharing a space with you when he’s sleeping, he might be nervous as hell. Or if you’re a good enough friend, he’ll turn over and pass out with his leg out unapologetically no problem. 

I think for obvious reasons he doesn’t really tend to sleep with anything; no pillows or toys. 

And I also think cuddling is not a big thing. Though you might find an arm or leg tossed over you on restless nights…

If you confront him about those things in the morning, he’ll deny them endlessly.

[mintsbubbletea]

𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐈𝐢𝐝𝐚- 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞

Word Count: 1,148

Contains: No pronouns mentioned, AFAB, cursing, drinking, grinding, kissing, pills

Proof read and Edited

You were jolted awake by the sun's rays hitting your face, interrupting what felt like the shortest nap ever. You shielded your eyes with your hands, desperately attempting to block out the bright light. With a grumble, you tried to close the curtains, wanting to stay in bed and avoid the day ahead. But they wouldn't budge, forcing you to begrudgingly get up and push them shut. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced at the clock on your nightstand and saw that it was time to start getting ready for school.

"Damn it" you muttered, realizing you had only fallen asleep an hour ago. The night before, you and some classmates had gone to a nearby party to celebrate passing a test. Well, it was mostly Iida bombarding you with information and making you take notes, followed by a surprise quiz that helped you pass the test. But you were determined to let loose and indulge in some partying. You remembered dancing and drinking with Mina, Denki, Jiro, and Sero after sneaking out of the dorms. Mina had kept the drinks flowing, and you had all let loose, grinding on Mina and dragging Sero in on the fun and singing along to the music. The night had ended at 6am when you finally stumbled back to your room, exhausted and still in your party clothes.

You thought to yourself, "What if I decide not to go?" However, the memory of the last time you skipped class and faced Iida's disapproval quickly came to mind. He had lectured you about setting a bad example, especially since you were dating the class representative. As a loving girlfriend, you couldn't bear to disappoint him. Hastily, you removed your clothes and reached for your uniform, which was neatly placed on the chair. Slipping into the skirt, you put on the knee-high socks and buttoned up the white button-down shirt, finally adding your blazer. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you noticed the faint bags under your eyes. With a shrug, you accepted that there was no time for makeup.

Grabbing your bag, you slipped on your shoes and made your way downstairs to the kitchen. You quickly brewed a cup of coffee, knowing it would be your lifeline for the day. Finally, you arrived at school, passing by other students as you entered your classroom. Surprisingly, your seat was right next to Iida's. As you set down the paper coffee cup and sat down, your expression revealed your exhaustion. Just as Tenya was about to say something, you pulled out a can of Monster from your bag. Pouring it into your coffee, you turned to face Tenya, who looked genuinely concerned. "Y/n, what are you-"

You interrupted him abruptly. "I'm going to die," you declared before gulping down the coffee now infused with Monster. His eyes widened in alarm as he tried to grab the cup, but you had already finished it. "What's gotten into you? Mixing those drinks can be risky," he scolded, observing your fatigued expression. "Did you pull an all-nighter again?" he inquired. You weakly nodded, your eyelids drooping and your heart racing. He let out a soft sigh, adjusting his glasses with a hand. "How many times do I have to remind you to take care of yourself? You need some decent sleep to function properly. How long did you manage to sleep?" he probed, already anticipating a short answer.

You blinked wearily before responding. "One hour," you admitted, rubbing your eyes tiredly. "Well, at least it's better than last time. Did you have breakfast at least?" he pressed. You nervously smiled, aware that a lecture on the importance of breakfast was imminent. "Oh, Y/n. I've emphasized countless times how crucial breakfast is; it's the most important meal of the day," he scolded, chopping the air. "You're going to be the death of me, you know."

Iida wasted no time after class, ushering you to his dorm. He knew that if he didn't, you'd either crash from exhaustion or pull an all-nighter without eating. "Sit," he instructed, pointing to his desk. "Ten, I'm fine, I just need-"

"I told you to sit, didn't I?" he interrupted. You complied, unsure of what he had in mind. "Stay put, I'll be right back." Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a bag. Placing it on the desk, he pulled out a pill bottle and a container of soup. "Take these," he said, handing you a pill. You stared at it in your hand, then back up at him. "What's this for?" you inquired.

You stared at him in shock, not realizing he knew about your night out. "How did you find out?" you questioned, popping the pill into your mouth and washing it down with water. Tenya pulled a container out of his bag, releasing the aroma of miso soup. "Firstly, as your boyfriend, I can read you like a book - your behavior, your speech. Secondly, you sent me a ton of videos and photos," he chuckled, displaying images of you dancing and getting close with Mina. One photo even showed you two kissing, but it didn't seem to faze Tenya. Blushing, you turned away. "I can't believe I snitched on myself," you muttered, only to hear a video playing on his phone.

"Ten. I really miss you a lot. You glanced at his phone and saw yourself on the screen, with music playing in the background and clearly intoxicated. "Like fuck, I wish you were here with me. We should be out dancing and having drinks together, but instead, you're being a good boy and sleeping," you slurred in the video. "I don't even know how I managed to get someone like you. You're so intelligent, attractive, and always make the right choices, while I'm just a wild mess causing chaos. Are you really in love with me?" The video came to an end.

He shut you up with a spoonful of soup, and you eagerly swallowed it, savoring the delicious broth as it slid down your throat. You hadn't realized just how hungry you were. "Even though we're complete opposites, you bring out my wild side," he said, his voice filled with affection. "You make me loosen up and enjoy life outside of school, something I rarely do. And in return, I help you stay calm and focused on your studies. I think we're a perfect match, don't you?"

You nodded, completely agreeing with him, as he lovingly fed you another spoonful of soup. "I love how you see it that way. It only makes me love you more," you replied, looking up at him with tired eyes that were growing heavier by the second. "Let's finish the soup, and then you can finally get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," you smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment as he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

tags: @slayfics Lmk if you wanna be added

[cobaltperun]

Genius (2) - Restless

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 3.2k

-What time is it now where you are? We follow beats with different drums. We're looking at the same star-

Once upon a time you were precious to Cairo, her best friend, someone she played with, someone she read with, someone she read to, someone she could trust. She didn’t exactly meet you, you’ve been a part of her life way before she understood anything about the world around her. You came into her life as the daughter of her parents’ friends slash colleagues. A way for her parents to show their dominance, she supposed. Your parents weren’t as wealthy, as successful, or influential as her parents, and looking at it now, there may have been some envy and or superiority complex from one pair of parents to another.

It didn’t influence the two of you, you were just kids who happened to spend time together and have fun. She was a lonely child, as not a lot of kids wanted to even get close to Lovell Hill, but seeing as your parents kept bringing you along you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter at first.

Everything was much simpler before the two of you started going to school…

~X~

Clumsy.

That was the word she would have used to describe you back then.

“I don’t like it here, Cai,” you were smaller than her back then and you were frightened of the forest surrounding her house, even if you were close to the road. Insects freaked you out, you jumped at the smallest sounds, you were so easy to scare, but Cairo really wanted to show you something nice in the forest, to show you it wasn’t all bad.

She’s been holding your hand, pulling you along through the dark forest, unlike you she wasn’t afraid or freaked out by the forest. It was a part of her world, unapproachable, haunting, yet beautiful at the same time. Of course, back then she just took it for granted, it was around her house so of course she didn’t mind it.

“Cai, come on, let’s go back,” you tried again, but you still went along with her whims.

“C’mon, it’s close!” she was excited to take you to the bush of wild roses she came across a few days ago.

You groaned, but didn’t put up a fight and then, just as she was supposed to see the bush, she dropped your hand, and you stumbled right into her. But she didn’t get annoyed, she was too confused, too distraught by the sight of an old tree that fell over the bush.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, yet she still didn’t respond. “Cai? Cairo?” you probably followed her line of sight, as you let out a small ‘oh’ a few seconds later.

She wasn’t that smart back then, she didn’t funny understand what she was feeling, but looking back at that moment now she figured that was the first time she began understanding the nature of her home. A beautiful flower growing despite harsh environmental conditions, only to be crushed by an old decaying good for nothing tree way past its prime. The forest around her house, the whole village, functioned the same way. And though she longed to be free, to spread her wings, to bloom outside of the restraints placed upon her by her surrounding, she couldn’t. She too, much like the rose bush she failed to show you, didn’t know how to escape the earth she was stuck in.

‘I’ll do it before I start high school,’ she thought, but didn’t know where to start, and she didn’t have anyone to do it with.

‘I’ll do it during high school,’ she thought, but she never had the courage to even get on a bus to the nearby town.

‘I’ll do it after I graduate,’ was her newest mantra, but deep down she feared what was to come.

She’s been told repeatedly that she was exceptional.

It was easy to be exceptional when everyone around her seemed content with their lives here. Never striving to stand out.

But, she didn’t understand that as a six years old girl standing in the middle of the forest with you by her side. But she did feel like something was breaking her heart.

“Hey,” you took her hand ad for once you were pulling her away from the crushed rose bush, as if understanding somehow that she didn’t want to stay there, even if she didn’t move on her own. Your hand was warm, though not nearly as warm as the tears falling down her cheeks, and she often wondered what you felt at that moment? What did you see when you looked from the roses on the ground to her? Did it change you in any way? Or was it just another day or you? Something you forgot within days, or even hours.

She never really asked you, but the sight stayed burnt in her mind and she still hated how well she could visualize it if she only thought back to it.

~X~

You stopped complaining about the forest after that, you still didn’t like it, but, she didn’t have to drag you along anymore.

“Get it off me!” you cried, but still ran away from her. You were panicking about a spider that fell on your shoulder.

“So, stop running!” Cairo laughed, running after you to ‘save’ you from the evil monster that attacked you. It wasn’t even a big spider, it was tiny!

“Fine, but hurry up,” you whined, finally stopping and letting Cairo catch up to you.

Cairo looked you over, but didn’t see the spider. “It’s not here? Maybe it fell off?” she guessed. Well, with how you were running it wouldn’t be a surprise.

“Really?” you asked as she sat down on the grass.

“Yeah, come on and sit down,” she needed to catch her breath or a bit.

You just shook your head. “No. Bugs!” you pointed an accusing finger at the ground and as usual refused Cairo’s offer to sit with her.

Why did she even bother to ask you? She knew you’d say ‘no’. “Oh,” her eyes widened slightly when she saw the spider crawling back up to your shoulder. “Guess it didn’t fall off after all,” she chuckled uneasily.

“What?” you shrieked and looked to the side. “Cairo you meanie!”

Cairo just laughed as she finally got up and removed the small spider from your shoulder.

She was still six, and there, in the dark, spooky forest where a rose bush could never thrive, things were still simple.

~X~

At nine years old she was spending time at your house every now and then. And on one stormy day, when the two of you had no idea what to do, since you couldn’t go outside and the power was out, she just passed time by looking over the books your parents owned.

Finally, her eyes landed on Jules Verne’s “Around the World in Eighty Days,” and she reached up for it. The world. How she yearned to explore it, to see something beside the village she lived in, to see the huge cities, to go to the biggest amusement parks, to visit the best bookstores, to experience things she couldn’t in this village.

So, yearning for the experience the book title promised, she brought it over to you and sat down. “Wanna read?” she offered, her big eyes pleading or you to say yes.

You looked a bit uncertain, but eventually you just nodded and lit a candle so the two of you could read.

Cairo hugged you briefly and pulled you to the floor so you could lie down and read together. She was mesmerized, amazed by the idea, eager to read more and mentally pleading for you to read faster, but, by the time she would finish two pages you’d just start reading the second page.

“Sorry, I’m not a fast reader,” you apologized when you noticed she was waiting to turn the page.

It wasn’t that you read slowly, you read about as fast as anyone could expect from an eight year old, it was Cairo that was reading faster than she was supposed to. “Would you- I don’t know, read it to me? I think that might be quicker?” you suggested.

Cairo thought it over and nodded happily. Maybe it wouldn’t be as fast as if she only had the book for herself, but she wouldn’t have to pause. So, you rolled onto your back and put your arms behind your head as she began reading from the very beginning.

And to show just how much both of you enjoyed the book you kept reading, even as the power came back on and the rain stopped. It didn’t matter, you were still stuck in your book.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” Cairo read as your mother came in with glasses of juice and some snacks for the two of you.

“What are you two doing?” she asked, curiously looking at the open book in front of Cairo.

“We’re reading, ma’am,” Cairo said politely as your mother crouched down next to you.

“Reading? This one as well?” your mother nudged you gently and you grinned.

“Everything, it said, was against the travelers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success,” You repeated word for word the last line Cairo read, and she and your mother just looked at you. “What? I was listening,” your grin dropped and you pouted slightly.

That was the first time Cairo realized that while she could remember almost anything she saw you could memorize sounds just as well.

~X~

It was simple and nice for another two years, and then it began shifting slowly. For the first time in her life Cairo didn’t get an A, she didn’t even get a B, but rather a C, but it would be fine, right? She was still the best in her class, seeing as only her and you got Cs, and it was a difficult test, the teacher said so as well!

She came inside to find her parents looking over some papers. A new case probably. “Father, mother,” she said a bit too quietly for her own liking. “I got the results for my test. I did my best and studied as much as I could, and the teacher said it was a-“

“Get to the point, Cairo,” her father cut her off.

Cairo looked down, test in hand. Why did the furniture around her suddenly look so much bigger than her. It felt like everything was looming over her, and just for a moment she remembered the sight of that rose bush crushed under the fallen tree. “I got a C,” she told them timidly.

Her mother finally looked at her. “A C? Are you stupid? How could you get a C?” Cairo winced at that but hearing that wasn’t nearly as bad as looking at her mother and seeing just how disappointed she was.

“We’ve given you everything, Cairo, and you’re wasting it playing all day long!” her father raised his voice, angry, furious even and she just looked down. “You are grounded, go to your room and fix this disgrace!”

She nodded, not daring to meet his eyes and began climbing up the stairs.

“Wait, what did L/N’s girl get?” her father suddenly demanded.

“A-a C as well,” she said and all hell broke loose as she curled up on her bed and tried to ignore her parents yelling, she was a disappointment, a burden, wasting their time and efforts, an ungrateful brat that would rather waste time running through the woods than study.

Unknowingly to her, you were having a much different conversation with your parents.

~X~

“Y/N,” your mother began once you were done eating dinner.

“Hm?” you looked away from the paper you were doodling on and turned to her.

“Did you get your test results?” she asked, smiling when you nodded.

“Yup! I got a C!” you exclaimed proudly causing both of your parents to look at you to see if you were joking with them.

“A C?” your father repeated, and you just nodded with a large grin on your face. “And you’re happy?”

“Yeah, it was really hard, even Cai only got a C!” you ran over to your schoolbag to show them the test.

You mother chuckled softly. “Well, if even Cairo got a C,” she smiled as you handed her the test. “I’m proud of you as long as you did your best,” she kissed your cheek softly.

~X~

When tomorrow came and you sat down next to Cairo she wanted to say hi, she wanted to talk to you like she usually would, she wanted to go and read with you again, but she still remembered the anger on her father’s face, the disappointment on her mother’s face, her blurry vision as she cried in her room.

She yearned for the attention of her parents, to have them talk to her, to take her to different places, to take her along with them at least every now and then, yet being the best student in her class wasn’t enough, and the mistake she made wasn’t to be tolerated.

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek later?” you asked between classes.

“Sorry, I have to study,” she muttered.

“Oh, tomorrow then?” she wanted to, she really did, but she didn’t want to get yelled at again.

“I don’t have time,” Cairo told you, making her tone as cold as she could.

“Cai, what’s wrong?” you were too perceptive for your own good.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, she didn’t mean to, she loved the nickname, it was the only nickname she ever had.

You paused, startled by her reaction. “Right, sorry,” you looked away.

“Just leave me alone, I’ll come to you if I feel like it,” she pushed you away, physically and stomped away, just so you couldn’t see the regret or tears in her eyes.

~X~ Present day ~X~

Cairo looked at you, her eyes wide in utter disbelief. You listened to her back then, you didn’t try to talk to her, you were waiting for her to come to you. Back then she wished she did that, she wished to do it every day. At the same time she wanted you to forget what she said, to approach her and get her to talk to you, to grab her hand and stop her from leaving. You never did that. So, a week passed, and she was still stubborn.

A month passed, and she was no longer stubborn, but she was worried you’d be angry that it took her so long.

Half a year passed, she turned twelve and spent her first birthday without you around, and that worry turned into spite. Out of spite she kept you at a distance, not even saying ‘hi’.

And then, shortly after that you moved with you parents and she wanted desperately to cry, but that would only make her parents angry at her again.

“Y/N,” she said uncertainly, despising how, even after so many years your name still fell so easily from her lips, how it still felt familiar on her tongue. You changed, grew up, grew taller than her, even if you were taller than her ever since the two of you were ten, now your height difference was noticeable even as you sat next to each other.

A cough broke her out of her thoughts. Right, the class just started. “I apologize,” she blushed a bit, thankful for the distraction. Thankful that she could listen to the author she admired, yet his words sounded so distant to her. You were right there, close enough to touch and Cairo felt hot and cold at the same time. She was happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder how long ago you came back. Why didn’t you look for her? You said her name so softly, you didn’t make a scene, surely you weren’t angry at her, but why didn’t you try and visit?

It’s been years, surely you didn’t still intend to listen to her childish demand.

~X~

You could feel how tense she was throughout the whole class, glancing at you subtly from time to time and you wished to just reach over and place your hand on her shoulder. To ask her what was wrong. To not give up this time like you did all those years ago.

The bell rang but the two of you remained seated, neither truly willing to move, until finally, under Miller’s confused gaze, Cairo picked up her things and nodded at him to say goodbye.

“Cairo, wait,” you went after her and Winnie. “Let’s just grab a lunch, or old times sake?” you went straight to the point. This was Cairo, after all, she like subtlety, especially in books, but she also liked being direct when she wanted something. “I know a restaurant, I think you’ll like it,” you said when she looked at you.

“You had time to visit those, I see,” Cairo said, and you could have sworn she looked away almost bitterly.

“Cairo,” you tried, but she was already turning around to walk away. You felt as if something was squeezing your chest, a feeling of unease you couldn’t shake off, like letting her leave now, like this, would be a mistake you couldn’t come back from. And in that moment, you were reminded of you and her, years ago, as your friendship shattered. “I didn’t mean in the village,” you called after her, taking notice of the way Winnie froze and Cairo stiffened a bit.

“What?” she looked back, frowning as you closed the distance and offered her your hand.

“Let me take you out to a restaurant about an hour from here. Good food, peaceful, beautiful view, perfect for catching up. They even have live music,” you explained, just hoping she’d take your hand.

Winnie whistled at that. “Nice going new girl. Throw the girl a bone, Cairo,” she nudged Cairo a bit, but the girl remained silent, and you could almost imagine the gears turning in her head.

“Okay,” Cairo finally said, shaking your hand.

“Come on- wait, really?” Winnie looked genuinely surprised and just stared at your and Cairo’s connected hands.

“Thanks, Cairo,” you smiled softly.

“Is Saturday okay with you?” she asked, her expression softening as she took a small step closer to you. “Yeah,” the two of you just stood there, in the middle of the hall, in front of Miller’s classroom, as if captivated by one another to the point of forgetting the world around you.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund

[mellifiedprincess]

someone requested more short!reader, so i wrote this with that in mind. i will be writing something that goes into a bit more detail about the reader being a short queen. anyway, hope you like it!

Ethan Landry x Short!Reader

Always Lurking and Stalking

When you and Ethan started dating he was always keeping a close eye on you. Not to say he didn’t before, because he certainly did. He just hated the fact that your friends didn’t really pay much mind to you when they went out. Always leaving you to fend for yourself. And while you didn’t like for people to think you were completely helpless, it still felt nice to have someone care for you so much.

And Ethan just felt like he needed to protect you from everything and everyone.

You were all currently at another frat party, hosted by none other than date rape Frankie. You were sitting with Mindy on the couch, very much tipsy, Anika and Tara dancing away under the pretty flashing lights, and Chad was trying to talk Ethan into doing shots with him.

Ethan, of course, kept declining. It was an unspoken rule he had made up when you two started dating. If you were out with them, he wasn’t drinking. He wanted to make sure you had someone looking out for you at all times, and while he loved his friends, he did not trust them.

“I want another drink!” Your sudden outburst barely even registered in Mindys ears, she was watching Anika with a big grin on her face, paying you no mind at all.

You get up, leaving Mindy to stare at her girlfriend, and make your way to the kitchen.

Ethan watching you closely, immediately taking notice of the drunken sway of your figure. “Y/N! Where are you going, baby?” You turn when you hear Ethan call out for you, and point to the kitchen. You smile sweetly, before Ethan gives you thumbs up and turns back to Chad.

“Dude, for the last time, I don’t want to do shots with you.” He pushes Chads hand away, glancing past his shoulder trying to keep his focus on you.

“You’re no fun anymore. I’m sure Y/N’s fine, man.” That earns an annoyed eye roll from Ethan. “Yeah, well you wouldn’t know because you never look out for her. You and everyone else are always too busy getting shitfaced.”

“What? No way! I’m always lurking and stalking when you least expect it.” Chad slaps a fist to his own chest, trying to solidify his words. Ethan only rolls his eyes again. Because he knew, and Chad knew, that Chad was full of shit.

Ethan couldn’t even count the amount of times he’s found you by yourself, completely wasted and barely functional, at these parties. And it made him angrier and angrier every time.

There were even a few times where the group just left the party without you. Forgetting you were even with them because of how drunk they all were. Of course, Ethan was never with them at those times. So, when you would call him and tell him what happened, he would drop whatever the was doing, even if he was sound asleep, and go get you.

He knew you weren’t totally incapable, but you weren’t exactly the tallest, or strongest girl either.

He just loved you too much to see something happen to you, because no one was paying any attention.

And he’s glad too, because when he hears you shout his name from the kitchen, he wastes no time, slightly pushing Chad out of the way, trying to get to you. He could hear the panic in your voice as soon as you scream for him, and it makes him want to throw up.

As soon as he makes it into the kitchen, his eyes find you instantly. You were pushed against a counter, some guy gripping your wrist tightly, trying to pull you out of the room. “Ethan! Help me!” Your eyes lock with his, and he can see how terrified you are, as you blink back tears.

“Hey! Get your fucking hands off of her!” The guy turns around eyeing Ethan up and down. At first glance, he doesn’t seem that intimidating, but that’s because no one, except you, knew what was hiding underneath the long sleeve shirt he was wearing. “We’re busy dude, fuck off.”

Ethan’s never been one for violence, but right now he wanted nothing more than to take one of the kitchen knives, that seems to be staring into his soul, and slit this guys throat. Instead, he rips the guys hand from you, and gently pushes you to stand behind him. You clutch onto his shirt, still scared out of your mind, and Ethan reaches his hand back to take yours.

“Touch her again, and I will fucking kill you.” The calmness in Ethan’s voice was more than threatening enough, but this guy just wouldn’t back off. “Whatever, she was asking for it dude.”

You didn’t even register what the guy said in the moment, but you felt Ethan tense up before putting all of his weight into the punch he threw at the guy. The crunching sound itself was horrifying, but glancing around Ethan, you were met with the sight of blood oozing from his nose.

You shouldn’t have giggled, but you couldn’t help it. “You should have listened when I told you my boyfriend would kick your ass.”

For a second Ethan forgot you were even still there, too focused on the idiot in front of him, who was now walking away, crying. He turns around to face you now, hands cupping your face with concern. “Are you okay, baby? Did he hurt you?” You only smile up at him, “I’m so okay, now! That was so hot, E!”

Ethan blows out a huff, relieved you’re okay, but still very much angry about the whole situation. He pushes your head to his chest, leaving his hand to cradle it, trying to calm himself down. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He whispers more to himself than you, of course you still hear it and squeeze him even tighter. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to me, I know it.”

Ethan’s lips find the crown of your head and places a sweet kiss there. You lift your face up, chin resting on his chest, and you can still see how worried he is.

“I’m okay, E.” You try to reassure him, only getting a small nod in return. His eyes aren’t meeting yours and you already know what’s bothering him.

“Ethan, look at me.” You feel much more sober now, as you take his chin in your hand and pull his face down to meet your eyes. “It’s not your fault. You were watching me the whole time, so stop blaming yourself for something you couldn’t control.” “If i would have just came with you-“

“But you didn’t because you respect me enough to let me have my space.” He knew you were right, he just couldn’t let that feeling go. The one where he was scared out of his mind when he heard you scream for him.

“I just never want to hear you scared like that again.” You smile softly at that, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss to his lips. “Well, I know I have you to protect me if something like that ever happens again. Nothing to be scared of now.”

Ethan feels a lot calmer, something only you’re able to do.

“There you are, E! Man you have got to try this drink some guy just handed to me. It literally tastes like rainbows.”. You watch Ethan roll his eyes, no telling how many times he’s already done that tonight, because Chad was totally sloshed.

“How about we all go home? I think you’ve had enough rainbows for tonight.” As Ethan moves to push Chad out of the kitchen, Chad stops and looks at you. “Holy shit, how long have you been standing there Y/N/N? You should totally try this drink.”

“Oh my god, Chad! Shut up and move.” Ethan pushes him forward again, and reaches out for your hand, which you gladly take. “We need new friends, baby.” You giggle at his comment and shake your head.

“They may not know how to ‘read the room’ but they’re good friends, ya know when they’re not completely wasted.” Ethan only pulls you closer to his body.

“You give them too much credit, sweetheart. Always looking for the best in people.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, seeing most of the group gathered at the door, you make your way over to them. “Where’s Chad? He was literally in front of us the whole time.” Tara only points behind you two, making you quickly snap your head around.

“Jesus christ.” “What the fuck?” You laugh out.

“Where did he get a turtle from?”

“Chad! Put the turtle down, and get your ass over here.”

[fohatic]

(manip by me, original poster by art chantry)

welp there's a (short!) fic now 😏

for the "kink: condoms are fun!" square of my @cap-ironman stony bingo round 2 card, 1.5k, rated E:

Like so many 21st-century notions that most modern folks took for granted, getting Steve Rogers onboard with the idea of condoms for gay sex was yet another concept that required some getting used to. As ever, Tony was more than willing to help him adjust to it -- was particularly eager, in fact, to demonstrate it for him. 

So he took Steve’s hesitant objections in stride. Though he conceded that STDs weren't actually an issue between them, Tony still felt obligated to get Steve up-to-date on one of the primary functions of using protection. He didn’t blame the poor guy for assuming that “VD” was only something that men contracted from women, given how the sex-ed propaganda of Steve’s time pointedly ignored the existence of homosexuals at every turn (yes, Tony had become quite the WWII-era culture buff ever since he and Steve got together). “Rubbers,” ergo, were only used to prevent pregnancy and war effort-undermining cooties from ‘loose women,’ as far as Steve was concerned.

He hadn’t yet learned about the AIDS epidemic. He hadn’t learned anything at all, really, about homosexuality, aside from what little he’d gleaned from his limited exposure to different cultures and social norms during his stint as a soldier. Just getting him to come out of his internalized-homophobic shell even a little bit after Tony had finally figured out that the tension between them stemmed from a sex thing rather than the other kind of dick-versus-asshole thing was a huge challenge all on its own; one which Tony had only persevered through because he was already way too far-gone on the guy by then to consider giving up. 

But now— after way too much dithering and denial and a gradually-dawning acceptance of the earth-shattering truth of the matter— they were finally fucking each other. Enthusiastically, and often. Tony’s patience had won out big time, and his rewards just kept on coming. And coming. And coming.

Turns out, Steve has a refractory period that’s basically non-existent. One of the many benefits of being serum-enhanced. Truly, Tony has no complaints on that score, considering his own notoriously rabid sex drive. Match made in heaven, in all honesty. It would seem that Steve is intent on making up for lost time, and Tony is only too happy to oblige him at every opportunity—

—which is where the condom thing comes in. Tony doesn’t mind that they’re fucking like rabbits now. It’s great! Amazing! Best thing that’s ever happened to him, really! But honestly— it can get kinda messy, given how Steve seems determined to fuck on every conceivable surface he can think of -- and often during moments that might not be entirely convenient, such as in the immediate aftermath of a mission; be that during touchdown at SHIELD headquarters when he and Tony are still suited up, or even on the freshly-vacated Quinjet on a number of occasions... -- occasions which their teammates definitely weren’t as oblivious to as Steve had been quick to assume in his lust-clouded fever (Tony had seen Nat’s knowing look after Steve had asserted his captain’s voice to tell him, “Stark: hang back a moment. There’s something I need to discuss with you in private.”) He was so disastrously conspicuous sometimes, but Tony wasn't bothered by it. He just found it ridiculously charming. 

So Tony’s started carrying condoms around with him at all times now, knowing that Steve’s delightfully unhinged libido could strike at any moment. It's his privilege to always be ready for him. 

The first time Tony fished one of these out of his pocket and pressed it against Steve’s big, warm chest during a heated make-out session in the locker room, Steve frowned down at the little packet with the most adorably confused expression Tony had ever seen on a full-grown human. 

“...A rubber?”

“Uh huh,” Tony had breathed out, eagerly rolling his hips against the massive thigh still shoved between his legs. 

“What for?”

It was actually really funny, just how nonplussed his face looked in that moment. Tony bit back his reaction to laugh, though, knowing how sensitive Steve could be when he thought Tony was laughing at him. 

“For sex,” Tony grinned, deliberately pressing his hard-on against the larger man and feeling a little giddy with how much he wanted exactly that, pronto. “What else?”

“We’re both fellas, though,” Steve needlessly pointed out, getting that deep furrow between his brows as a particularly splotchy flush spread over his face -- Tony knew by now that these together were more of an indication of embarrassment than arousal. Uh oh. 

It was sometimes a bit of a tightrope walk, maintaining a modern homosexual relationship with a man as complicated as Steve Rogers. Tony was still learning how to navigate his changeable moods and specific triggers, but it was a task he was surprised to find himself more than willing to put up with. It was actually kind of thrilling, the way he was always keeping Tony on his toes.

So that first, clumsy attempt in the locker room hadn’t convinced Steve that condoms were a convenient means of mitigating the messier aspects of assfucking, which in retrospect was Tony’s bad: Steve wasn’t wrong when he'd pointed out that the showers were right there.

Then later that week, when Tony tried again by attempting to argue that condoms were actually “fun,” Steve had gotten a bit petulant when he'd mistakenly jumped to the very erroneous conclusion that Tony didn’t actually like getting pumped full of an unholy amount of hot supersoldier jizz on the regular. On the contrary, it was something he often enjoyed with a zeal that bordered on some kind of perversion… Only, there was a time and place for indulging in what basically amounted to a serious cum-inflation kink, which—in his modest opinion—was best enjoyed in the comfort of an actual bedroom. 

Later, ensconced in the privacy of said bedroom, he explained this to Steve. In so much detail. He made sure to be very clear about what he liked and when/where he liked it, ensuring that there would be no doubt as to how sincerely he meant it by encouraging Steve to properly fill him up right there on his oversized bed. Then—just because Steve seemed to really appreciate these sorts of practical demonstrations—Tony made it very clear what occurred afterwards, illustrating this by strutting naked around the bedroom and letting Steve’s jizz drip down between his legs while he continued to elaborate on the pros and cons of letting Steve put him in such a state while out in public. He definitely had Steve’s rapt attention, this time.

Still, he didn’t fully sell his argument until the following weekend, when they’d been out together at that gala all night in their well-tailored formalwear, making eyes at each other in between all the endless schmoozing and sipping from champagne flutes and munching on canapes. 

Steve found a little secluded balcony that wasn’t in use, because of course he did. Say what you will about him being a late bloomer; there was no denying that the guy had quite the aptitude for arranging semi-covert assignations at a moment’s notice. 

He wasn’t wearing his utility belt, though, which meant that he didn’t have his handy dandy lube tube that he’d taken to carrying around these days. So when Tony caught him trying to spit on his fingers after getting a hand down Tony's pants and squeezing Tony’s ass in a signal he’d come to recognize as Steve’s signature “I wanna fuck you right now” move, he intercepted him just in time to demonstrate the magic of 21st-century lubricated condoms.

Getting to bend Tony over the railing like that and have at him at the drop of his $3000 pants with no prep required—then coming profusely into Tony’s grateful ass without spilling a single drop of superspunk on either of their very nice garments—was something of an eye-opening experience for Steve Rogers. 

He could admit, afterwards— as they righted their clothing and kissed like they’d been waiting all night to get their mouths on each other in order to finally breathe properly— that Tony might’ve actually had a point about the “rubbers.” 

“They’re fun, aren’t they?” Tony smirked as he smoothed his hands down the fine weave of Steve’s black dinner jacket, continually enamored with the way that all that broadness narrowed down to such a grabbable little waist. “...Anytime, anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, looking at Tony with a fondness that couldn’t possibly have just been about the whole condom thing. Sometimes when Steve looked at him like that, it felt like his insides were melting; like Steve could reduce him to literal goo with just a look. Quite the superpower, that one. 

Steve’s eyes did that funny thing where they grew impossibly warmer as he reached to fix Tony’s hair with gentle fingers, telling him, “I think I’m coming around to the idea.”

♡

[emilyprentissluvr]

Until Next Time (Don't Blame Me: Chapter 3)

Summary: Emily knew it was wrong. She knew you were the most dangerous woman the BAU had ever seen. Yet, she couldn't seem to stay away from you.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Warnings: Typical Criminal Minds stuff

Words: 2.9k

EMILY PULLED Y/n closer so that her back was flushed to the agent's front. "You're bluffing," Emily scoffed as she eyed the woman. She knew from Y/n's profile that she didn't kill people whom she deemed innocent. So there was no way she would blow up a bar full of a hundred people.

"Are you really willing to take that risk?" Y/n smiled sweetly and it took the brunette less than a second to lead Y/n out of the bathroom and pull the fire alarm.

The alarm started blaring and people started making their way out of the bar. Emily looked at the detonator again and saw it was now at a minute. She didn't like how slowly the crowd was moving so she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Everybody out! It's a real fire!" And luckily, people started moving much faster.

"What's going on?" Derek said as he ran toward the women, ignoring Y/n's smug smile and focusing on Emily. He'd had his eye trained on the bathroom door, waiting for them to come out. 

"She said there's a bomb," Emily said as she kept her eyes on the crowd, wanting to ensure everyone got out. 

"Where?" Derek said as he eyed Y/n, who just shrugged playfully.

"I don't know and I don't think we have time to find out," Emily said as she showed Derek the detonator which was now counting down from 45 seconds. 

"Get her out of here and I'll make sure everyone else is out," Derek stated leaving no room for argument. 

Emily nodded and pulled Y/n out to a less crowded exit. "You know, as much fun as this is, could you loosen your grip a bit?" Y/n pouted over her shoulder at the brunette.

Emily scoffed as she walked the two of them further away from the building. She saw Hotch and JJ driving toward them in their SUV before quickly hopping out and jogging towards the women. 

"Mm, the blonde is pretty," Y/n noted and Emily just gritted her teeth. 

"What? Did I hit a nerve?" Y/n teased and the brunette ignored her as she walked them toward the unit chief.

"What happened?" Hotch asked as he pulled out his cuffs and handed them to Emily.

"She said she put a bomb in there," Emily said as she quickly cuffed Y/n's hands behind her back.  "Derek's getting everyone out but I'm pretty sure she's bluffing," The brunette continued as she tightened the handcuffs even more. 

"She is right here," Y/n said, causing everyone to turn toward her. "And she would appreciate it if you loosened the cuffs a bit." Y/n continued as she wiggled her hands from behind her.

"Can you focus on something other than yourself for two goddam seconds and tell us if the bomb is real or not?!" Emily growled, her patience for Y/n's antics dwindling more and more.

"That's kind of a lot to ask of a psychopath, don't you think?" Y/n pouted as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at the brunette. "That's what you guys profiled me as, right? A high-functioning psychopath?"

"You won't be so high functioning when you spend the rest of your life in prison." Emily retorted which only earned a laugh from the younger woman, "We'll see about that."

"Prentiss," Hotch interrupted, not liking how much Emily was getting riled up. "The detonator." He said as he held out his hand for the agent to give to him. Emily begrudgingly gave it to the man and watched as his eyebrows rose slightly.

"What is it?" JJ asked as she leaned closer, trying to see whatever Hotch had discovered.

"Well, she is bluffing," Hotch said as he turned the device around and showed that the timer had already run out and nothing had happened, "And this isn't a detonator, It's a remote control for a toy car. Jack has one of these things." The unit chief pointed out quietly, not wanting to make Emily even more mad.

"You're kidding me?!" Emily scoffed as she turned to face Y/n who had the biggest smile on her face, "What? I bought it from the toy store before I came. Like I said before, it's fun to rile you up." 

"You think this is funny?! " Emily said lividly, hating how Y/n was getting under her skin. 

"No, of course not. I think it's hilarious," Y/n said licking her lips.

"We're done here," Hotch said calmly, already sensing how Emily was on the verge of blowing up. "Take her to the SUV." The unit chief continued and Emily nodded, not having to be told twice. She practically dragged Y/n the ten feet of the car before throwing open the door. 

"This was fun, darling! Next time we'll have to use handcuffs in a different context if you know what I mean." Y/n said brashly with a wink as Emily forced her into the car and connected the cuffs to the seat.

"There will be no next time." Emily gritted out and Y/n smiled innocently, "We'll see about that, Agent Prentiss."

The brunette slammed the door shut and walked toward JJ and Hotch, not wanting to spend another second in the younger woman's company. 

"You okay?" Hotch asked and Emily blew out a breath, "Yeah, she's just- a lot."

"Well, at least it's over now," JJ said as she gave her friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Emily nodded as she turned to look at Y/n who was still looking at her with a smile on her face. Something felt wrong but Emily couldn't put her finger on it. 

"Yeah, you're right," Emily said, shaking the worries out of her mind, "I'm not riding back with her though." She said seriously to her boss.

"Don't worry, I'll make Derek do it." The unit chief said and Emily sighed with relief. She was done with Y/n. She could forget all about today. Well, maybe not forget about it, but at least compartmentalize it until it wasn't a big deal.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

"Would you like to play a game, Agent Morgan?" Y/n asked as she stared at the bald man next to her. One of the local Police officers was driving but Derek had insisted on sitting in the back seat next to the woman, not wanting to take his eyes off of her for a second. 

"No," Derek replied shortly, trying to ignore the headache that had been blooming in his temple since leaving the bar.

Y/n sighed dramatically, "Oh come on, It'll be fun!"

"No," Derek said again and the woman just shook her head, "Twenty questions. You ask me whatever you want and I'll answer with the complete truth."

"Really?" Derek asked and Y/n nodded her head, "As long as you answer my questions. No lying."

Derek thought the idea over. Realistically he knew there was no harm, in fact, he could probably get more answers out of Y/n right now than in an interrogation room. "Fine. But I'm asking a question first," Derek said and Y/n nodded with a smile, happy that the agent was playing along. 

"What's your full name?" Derek asked and Y/n sighed boredly, "Y/n Y/l/n. Although I guarantee  you won't get far with it."

"What does that mean-"

"Ah ah. Mine turn." Y/n tutted, "Is there anything going on between Emily and the blonde?" 

Derek blinked slowly, "That's seriously the question you're asking me?"

"Yes," Y/n said as she eyed the man with a frown. Derek rolled his eyes but answered honestly, "No. Nothing is going on between Emily and JJ."

A smile touched Y/n's lips that Derek didn't like the looks of but he decided to ignore it for now. 

"What was the name of your first victim?" The agent asked. Four years ago when he first worked the case the team knew that the first victim they found couldn't have been Y/n's first victim. The crime scene was organized and perfectly executed so it was obvious that Y/n worked up to it. 

"Alex Painter" Y/n answered and to an untrained eye, it looked as if the woman wasn't bothered. But Derek could see through her, could see the way Y/n's eyes narrowed slightly and how she bit the inside of her cheek. The agent wanted to ask more but he could tell that Y/n wasn't going to answer. 

"My turn! What's Emily's favorite flower?" Y/n said, seemingly snapping out of whatever funk she was put in by the question.

 Derek paused for a moment his stomach feeling uneasy. However, he couldn't tell if it was because all the questions were focused on Emily or because his headache was starting to make him feel nauseous. 

"Chrysanthemum's." He said, remembering when Emily pointed them out to him on a case one time.

"You choose to shoot your victims in the head, why?" Derek asked, turning the conversation back to Y/n. This had been a question Rossi brought up this morning. The use of a gun made the kills seem impersonal but the brand of the angel wings did the complete opposite. 

"It's efficient and fast. I don't see a point in prolonging the inevitable. The men I kill deserved what they had coming to them." She said, her voice void of any emotion and it almost sent a shiver down the agent's spine.  

"My turn again! What's Emily's favorite food?" Y/n asked, her emotions suddenly flipping back on.

"Why do you want to know that?" Derek asked and Y/n frowned, "Answer my question or I'm done talking."

The agent sighed, he knew Y/n wasn't bluffing so he answered cautiously, "She loves Thai food."

Y/n smiled as her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, "Interesting," The woman said and Derek immediately wanted to change the topic, "Why did you move back to the States?" He asked and Y/n sighed, "It was for work. I wasn't too keen on the idea of moving back but I can't deny how much fun I'm having."

"Fun you've had," Derek corrected, blinking slowly as his vision became fuzzy. 

"Sure," Y/n laughed hysterically as she fell over and Derek had no idea what was going on. His mind felt so slow as he tried to comprehend the scene in front of him. His words weren't meant to be funny so he was extremely confused as he watched the woman practically fold over with laughter.

That was until he looked down and noticed the cuffs were no longer secured around Y/n's wrist. Before he had time to react Y/n had quickly pulled the gun from his ankle holster and shot the cop driving the car in the hand.

The cop screamed in pain as his hands came off the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve into a ditch on the side of the road. Luckily they were only going about 25 miles per hour so when they hit a tree Derek and Y/n barely lurched forward. Derek, uncharacteristically, had been frozen since the moment he heard the gunshot. His head was pounding and his eyes were unfocused as he stared at the woman in front of him.

"I really am sorry about this, Derek." Y/n sighed as she toyed with the gun in her hand. The agent tried to reach toward her but the haze in his eyes was getting worse. "What....did.....you....d-do?" Derek muttered.

"Nothing a bandaid won't fix. And trust me, women find scars very sexy." Y/n said, and before Derek even had time to react he felt the gun slam right into his temple. The last thing he remembered was trying to reach out for Y/n as she climbed out of the car before his vision went black.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Emily's breath fogged the window as stared into the night from the back seat of the SUV. She had the urge to trace her bottom lip, the same ones Y/n had kissed less than an hour ago, but she didn't let herself. She hated how that moment kept replaying in her mind. Hated how she had enjoyed it, even if it was for a sliver of a second.

"You okay back there, Em?" JJ asked as she turned around from the passenger seat. The blonde had been worried about her friend since she sat in the car. 

"Yeah, just tired," Emily said with a small smile that even she knew was unconvincing. Although her words were the truth, she had never been tempted to drown a bottle of wine and crash right into bed.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow," Hotch suggested from the driver's seat.

"I'm fine." Emily rolled her eyes, not liking the attention on her.

"Prentiss that wasn't a request-" Hotch started before he was interrupted by the police intercom on the dashboard of the SUV.

"I need backup and medical on 24th Street immediately! We have an agent down and the suspect is on the run! I repeat the suspect is on the run!" A scratchy voice from the device called out.

Emily's eyes widened as she heard the dispatcher repeat it all over again. 

"Oh my god. You don't think that's..." JJ trailed off, already knowing the answer.

Hotch immediately turned his sirens on and hit the gas. Luckily they were only a minute away but the drive felt like hours before they saw the car off the side of the road.

Emily got out of the car before Hotch could even put it in park, and raced to the site of the crash. She saw that the paramedics leading the cop with the shot hand to the ambulance but no sign of Y/n.  She looked behind the car and into the miles of woods that Y/n could be in. Her first instinct was to run in there and find her until she heard a grunt of pain from the car. Her eyes widened when she realized she recognized that sound very well. 

"Derek?!" Emily yelled as she ran closer and was relieved to find him sitting in the car with an icepack on his forehead. The paramedics had tried to get him to the ambulance but he had refused until he could tell the team exactly what happened. 

"Jesus Prentiss, lower your voice." He winced and the brunette immediately apologized but was glad to see that he was still pretty much the same. 

"What happened?" Hotch asked as he walked up from behind Emily.

"She was asking me a bunch of questions and then all of a sudden my vision started going blurry. Next thing I know she's shooting Detective Watson in the hand and I'm getting knocked out with my own Glock." Derek says, still evidently out of it in a way that concerns all three agents who are listening to him.

"You need to get checked out by the medics," Hotch said immediately and Derek shook his head, which only made the pain worse, "Hotch, I'm fine-"

"Derek you were obviously drugged. So you will get checked by the medics. I'm not negotiating." Hotch, said before he yelled for the medics. Two men immediately rushed over to Derek's annoyance but he was more at least he was more cooperative. Hotch immediately went into Unit Chief mode and took control of the scene. He had Emily and JJ look over the car for details while he got in touch with the Bureau about putting out an APB for Y/n.

Emily walked to the opposite side of the car. The door was still open from when Y/n had escaped and the cuffs were opened and on the ground. The brunette shook her head as she imagined the smug look on Y/n's face the last time she had seen her, "I should have seen this coming."

"This isn't your fault," JJ said slowly, slightly confused as to why the brunette was taking this so hard.

"I knew something was wrong but I didn't say anything. Maybe if I had, Derek wouldn't have gotten hurt and Y/n wouldn't have gotten away-" Emily started before the blonde cut her off, "No one could have predicted this. Not even you."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek as she turned to look at the forest behind her. The breeze was making the limbs of the tree sway and it felt as if the unknown was taunting her. "She's been two steps ahead of us this whole time," The brunette said as she turned back to JJ. "And we just let her get away."

"Emily-" JJ started but the brunette was already walking away, not wanting to look at the car or the empty handcuffs for another second. She walked toward Derek who was fighting with the medics. "I don't need to go to the hospital!" Derek grumbled as the paramedic walked away with an annoyed look on his face. When Emily was close she shot the paramedic an apologetic look before taking a seat next to her partner. 

"Do they know what she drugged you with?" The brunette asked and Derek shook his head, "They won't know without further testing but they said it didn't seem too serious. My only concern is that I don't even know when she did it. Or how."

"That does seem to be the question of the day. How the hell did she pull all of that off?" Emily muttered and Derek shrugged, "I don't know, but I did get some information out of her."

"Anything useful?"

"Yeah, well more concerning than anything."

"What does that mean?" Emily asked with a frown.

"It means that not only do we have a serial killer on the loose. But we have one that's obsessed with you, Prentiss." Derek said sympathetically and Emily just stared straight forward into the woods, imagining Y/n leaning against one of the trees and giving her a cocky wink.

"Lovely," Emily muttered. 

[hwaightme]

Use me (part 2)

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR LEO KING'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)

(part 1) (masterlist) (perma-taglist)

🥂 pairing: non-idol!mingi x fem!reader (implied yun... x reader - i wonder who...) 🥂 genre: smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers-ish 🥂 summary: you try to forget and return to what you know best, but what is on a sober mind quickly turns into a drunk phone call and a life-changing confession. 🥂 wordcount: 22.5k 🥂 warnings/tags: language, alcohol/drinking, over-drinking/being drunk, toxic behaviour, risky behaviour, unhealthy coping, trauma, implied past abuse/assault, flashbacks, numbing, one night stands, learning to love, learning to feel, mingi driving through the night, implied psychologist!mingi as job, fools in love and lust 🥂 taglist: at the bottom of the fic~ 🥂 a/n: this has been long in the works, first as a haunting thought, then as what you may see here. i'd love to dedicate this fic to @byuntrash101 <3 thank you for your continued support, for our love and friendship <3 to everyone, i appreciate you all, any and all reblogs, notes, thoughts appreciated, much love!

🥂 nsfw tags: dom-leaning switch!reaader, sub-leaning switch!mingi, protected sex, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, blowjob, facial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, implied squirting, dirty talk, pet names (darling, doll, gorgeous... others...), loving talk/pillow talk, mentioned aftercare and general gentleness, reader is sober atp, explicit asking for consent, wearing mingi's t-shirt, a lot of kissing because they are all over each other, a whole lot of doting, sex that is like a hug

"I love you..."

A slam of the door.

Where it all began.

You. Left in a loud solitude. Ceasing to stifle your sobs with your tee and letting out an animalistic cry. An innocent creature who trusted unconditionally, only to be shot at point blank and abandoned once the fun chase was over. There was no one out there except yourself to mourn your loss. Trapped in a dark room for what you believed to be the rest of your years.

Harsh reality collapsed on you under impossibly strong gravity, and trapped you with one brutal swipe. Your heart was being eaten away by your acidic mind that kept on replaying, replaying, replaying the moments that had led to your metamorphosis. A catharsis in reverse, an autonomous inflictor of agony festering in every crevice. 

It was funny how one's thoughts could be so lucid, come the worst. You could clearly recollect just how grateful you had been that your mother, as always, was out of town, and upon her return would be in oblivious bliss, and how ‘wonderful’ it was that there was nothing to look forward to for the next day. Or perhaps ever. You did not want to lift your hopes again and again only for them to descend faster than light to the pits of hell signed with your name. No need. There was enough time to prepare your space, invite and get to know your unrelenting demons before the alarms reminding you of basic social functioning would ring, and your body would be torn from your whirlpool of torment to enter the hustle and bustle of crowds. Not one person was aware of who they were walking with. Who they were walking past. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and you tore yours out in an effort to distort and move on.

The luxury of time before the ringing of the digital bells. You could cleanse yourself until your skin was no longer yours, until what remained of your willingness to perceive could spot the etchings of a body. You could cut out every part of you that served as a reminder. Subject each one to the savage ritual, until you were pure. The perfect angel once more, no longer decorated in shades of blue and maroon inside and out. You could remove each lobe, each cortex of your brain and douse it in the strongest agents, and to the rhythm of the rippling waters from the sink submerge them in the illusion of bliss.

And yet, you had not moved an inch, choosing to remain as a stranger in your own flesh.

You could fight back. You could rise above and spit the venom of the scorned and those isolated by societal hellfire, raise the flag and tell the story of those who could not. Be larger than yourself, a self-starting role model, redefine yourself as someone who used their past as motivation, as a foundation for unshakeable morals that would lead you to a humanity-changing greatness.

But what good was it when you stopped feeling? What happened? Who were you?

It was a wave that took you in, providing you the satisfaction of prolonged sensory suffocation, suspending you in senseless attitude, order, and disposition. The self-hating rebellion that had reared its head and manifested itself within you, turned you into something out of a nightmare. But you had never realised just how intricate and terrifying was the persona you had materialised within yourself. The cavities and taboos that had now become intricacies and embellishments of the scarred soul would have been repulsive to you before. To the one who existed before that damned day, hour, minute, second.

Numb. You were numb. Always numb. Cruising through your years, silencing any possibility of truly healing. Because no. You were not damaged - you would spit at anyone who dared to call you that. You were not hurt - no signs of weakness could be found on the surface, and this was how you were surviving. You were above it. Nothing happened. What were you talking about? Nothing. Nothing at all. That was what you kept repeating to yourself until the mantra turned into the truth. Truth be told, you were not sure what you were mourning anymore, except that if you did not, out of habit, it would hurt until you would be twisted limb by limb into submission. And the life you had chosen would begin again - new day, same mistakes.

In the process of your radical renaissance into a fatal night-time goddess, you did try to find love. Those had been the last cries of a helpless bird plummeting from the sky. But it all cycled back to the same old thing. Besides, if nobody around you knew what love was, how could you be expected to comprehend, let alone give it? You could not be bothered to believe that there were outliers, nor delve into the reasons why things like ‘friends’ ever stuck around. You lived, you breathed, and that was good enough. You wanted to purge yourself of love.

That was how the three little words, in that haunting sequence, came to be your personal poltergeist; a curse to summon a despicable demon that you vowed to never utter. Bloody Mary, Beetlejuice - sure. Just not those three words. They had lost their significance aside from being the root of your troubles and despair. The words did not mean a person would stay. The words were not a promise that you would not be hurt. The words were not a shield that you could hide behind. So instead, you took to sharpening knives, being a spiteful hedonist in search of the last laugh.

Little did you know, love was a creative sadistic monster, and had been by your side all this time. It chose to attack you during the most pleasurable high – one that you had crafted and followed in perfunctory resistance.

"I love you, Y/N..."

It was almost the same. Only this time, it was you shutting the door. Running from yourself.

Your getup appeared almost comical now, as you sat, doubled over on the sofa in Wooyoung’s and San’s apartment. What had been a stunning pair of pumps was now a miserable member of the abandoned shoe society, piled in a corner right by the entrance and masked by an ancient collection of plastic bags, courtesy of San’s resourcefulness. The black dress that was threatening to ride further and further up your thighs at any moment was nothing more than shame vehemently clinging onto your skin.

While you were combating the whirring tornado of short- and long-term memories with a bouncing leg and a zoned-out stare into the carpet, your friends remained equally silent, knowing better than to disturb. Over the years they had never asked why you did things the way you did. They merely learned the patterns and accepted you as you were – an action for which you could never repay them, so you simply hoped that, at least sometimes, you were doing the same if they needed it.

Your cryptic sequence was broken only when you felt a warm fabric being draped over your shoulders, making you instantly stiffen, alert. The rush of foreign sensations made you gasp as your eyes darted up, to be met by San’s, who was sitting across from you on a faux leather ottoman. You had no recollection of when he had moved it from its original position by the wall, between the TV stand and an indoor palm tree, and it made you strangely guilty. You really had a knack for not paying attention to those close to you.

When San noticed your unfocused gaze, he slowly raised both of his hands, palms up, inhaling at the same time, and then lowering them, along with an audible, level exhale. You chuckled, making him break into a small grin – you were coming back. Not quite ready to touch what appeared to be a jacket or cardigan that was now embracing you, you put your own hands between your thighs, feeling their miniscule tremors as the adrenaline high subsided.

“You’re literally shivering, Y/N. Do you want me to, uh, bring you a blanket? We have a nice wool throw; a gift from San’s… mom… so you know it’s going to be cosy.” Wooyoung cautiously explained to you in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. He was standing off to your right, arms crossed.

The last time you had heard him use such a soft tone was when you had come with him to visit a friend’s newborn – and even then, he had to have been reminded to ‘shut it or he would be on nappy changing duties for a week’. It made you want to scream, act out, anything to push away this coddling and belittling that was passed off as sympathy. Oh, how you despised when people seemed to walk on eggshells around you. There always existed a desire within you to prove to others that you never needed help, or at least would never ask for it explicitly. That was why, even now, during your rather turbulent departure from the first night in a while that you knew you would not forget no matter how much you might want to, you did not want to play it cool. You needed to.

“That’s because you guys appear to be saving on your electricity bills. I told you: an apartment with heated floors is a bad idea.” you attempted to keep your voice level, but it remained airy and weak, wholly ignoring your efforts. It was as if somehow, your body was physically worn from the marathons you ran in your mind.

“But it keeps my feet nice and toasty.” Wooyoung whined and wiggled his toes demonstratively

“Which is why you… ah nevermind. Cool apartment, either way. I knew you guys were secretly interior designers.”

The topic change helped you get more comfortable in your skin. You finally managed to find the energy and courage to grab onto the edges of the jacket, which had turned out to be Wooyoung’s beloved grey fleece zip up hoodie and pull it tighter around you. It wasn’t so hard to recognise the relief that had washed over your friends’ features as they saw you carry out the simple motion. It really was cold. Though you had no way to distinguish between the internal and external.

As you transitioned from reliving the past to inching through the present, step by step until you found yourself leaning against a kitchen counter with a mug of hot coffee cradled in your hands, your habitual mindset returned. The lines, turned stark and agonising after hearing those forbidden words had regained their hazy infusion, reinvigorating you with a pleasant buzz of numbness, reminiscent of the prickly sensation when muscles just began to wake up, albeit more lulling, something only a person who was alive in the soul was capable of experiencing. It was not long until your friends’ suggestions and extensive monologues began to fall flat on your ears, drifting through your body and expelling themselves to never be remembered. You watched their lips move, their hands paint pictures of a future for you in the air, and yet it all turned to darkness. You swiftly turned the lights off to their reprimands, their comfort, just like you had done before. It was clear that they did not expect much from you either, otherwise why would they sound so well-practised? A sense of deja vu washed over you; as if you had been in the same place before, with the same heavy weight in your chest, cradling the same mug and drinking the same beverage. Were you ever going to change? 

Wouldn't it be funny if you knew how to follow advice? Technically you did. For an entire two weeks thanks to Wooyoung and San forcing you into a movie night with them on the Friday in the middle of the madness - you do not remember a single one of the movies watched, all of them having turned into a blur, and you: a jittery mess. You needed your weekly diversion, your sensual fix that you had ingrained into your routine as if it was yoga or pilates. Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. Your version was just a lot more exciting than the average physical exertion in the name of wellbeing. So as you had sat between your two friends, with San having his hand lazily thrown over your shoulders, serving as your head rest, and Wooyoung having made your lap into his pillow, you envisioned a different comfort for yourself. All this cosiness was making you choke, suffocating you as an anaconda would at an astonishingly fast pace, and you could feel that another second more and you would prefer to call your closest friends - strangers. You needed out; at least one day of the week, like you three had done previously. You had tried to hint to San that maybe returning into the swing of things would let his heartbreak pass more quickly, but he only patted your head and gave you a melancholy smile. Though you had returned it, just to soften the blow and reassure him through his romantic solitude, behind your cheek was a bitten tongue, acting as the last straw between your molars and preventing you from making matters worse - at least for San and Wooyoung. You had nothing to say for yourself; actually, you never did. You were never one for self-descriptions or elaborations, preferring to show and not tell. Another reason why in this platonic silence, you were being driven into craving your favourite meal of depravity, where the only language spoken was that of action and seduction. If you were to succeed in moving on from the mistake that still lingered on your skin - kisses trailing the mazes of your body and ghosting over your lips, you needed to erase them by the same method. Time to take matters into your own hands, and that meant a new dress, a new pair of heels, a new club and a new accessory for one night.

You could not hear anyone nor anything. Most importantly, you could not hear your erratic heartbeat, nor the thoughts that were looming over you and speeding around your mind palace. No - if anything was going to take your breath away, it would be the lips of another stranger. Anything to erase the ones that were too laden with emotion, too laden with affection and infatuation for you. A toxic poison that had transferred right into your bloodstream and was beginning to eat you alive. You needed to escape, find a cure to this turmoil before you succumbed to the idea that anyone could care about you more than for a night. There was satisfaction in routine, in a fluorescent madness that was systematically established in your life as a way to let go, thereby gain control. You needed a hit, badly, and one so strong that the weekend would not exist for you, and Mingi's lingering touches would be fully wiped from your body. How dare he spill his darkest secrets to you, mixing nightmare with the ultimate fantasy? He was going to pay for thinking that he could control you in this way and spin threads out of your soul, not by confrontation, but by your sheer indifference. He was just a man, you had repeated to yourself like a mantra as you stepped into a club in a completely different part of town, looking ever so stunning in a deep burgundy dress; he had no influence over your actions and you owed him nothing, not even an explanation. Obviously, he was the one who had overstepped boundaries that he was supposed to sense were there, so why should you consider his melancholic eyes, the sunny smile that had set as soon as he would wake up to see you gone, the- 

No. No more Mingi. Only the beautiful stranger who was devouring you with his alluring orbs, looking past his friends and making you feel as though you were the sole being in that hall. This was the man who could help you forget, at least you hoped he would. Sauntering straight to the bar, you did not spare him as much as a glance when his figure drifted past you. You could sense more gazes following you, just how you always liked it, burning away those adoring caresses that made your skin crawl; you needed a sensory and sensual apocalypse, a purgatory for the damned, reducing your life back to that familiar sin that tasted so sweet and was a stone cold bitch in the morning. You were not some frail creature waiting for a proclamation of love for the sake of validation, nor were you a seeker of such types of closeness - if anyone, it was you who knew it was more fleeting than a good fuck. At least there was satisfaction and sport to gain from the later, and the heart remained caged and untouched. It was not hard to be animalistic, all you needed to do was to give up ruminating those classic "do they like me do they not", and slam the door to social niceties shut. There was no room for feelings when you needed to fly from the tormenting earth, for they were too heavy - a ballast that you needed to rid yourself of as soon as you could. The haze, you needed to give into the tipsy haze; one drink, another, and the world was beautiful. Stunning, even. The blur was an acute desire, accentuating sensuality and letting you transform into the killer queen of the night. 

In this wondrous dissociation, you could not care less about who you were nor who the people around you paraded themselves as. It was all a play-pretend, and may the most talented actors win. No one came to the club to fall in love, and if they did, they were sure to have their heart broken and stomped on, over and over, and over again. Finishing the last of your old fashioned - a drink which you had been introduced to by none other than your friend Wooyoung, you decided that it was time to let yourself go on the dance floor, only to be followed suit by the tall man whom you had subconsciously beckoned. Clearly, he was interested in the same exact thing, and took no time in approaching you, disregarding all other people, and laying a hand on your hip to lead you in a sultry, rhythmic dance further igniting your hope and anticipating desire. You chuckled to yourself as you felt that familiar buzz once more, and studied the way in which your temporary partner's muscles moved in an unbelievably enticing manner under his shirt - material for your lustful imagination. The heat from his body was addictive, and the adrenaline and dopamine-fuelled pace at which you moved to the intense beat left you even more determined than usual. You needed him. You needed this stranger, depended on him and trusted him more than any of your friends, and definitely more than a certain someone who thought he could be something more. As you took your so-called saviour by the collar and tugged so he would be only an inch away, you finally asked his name. His eyes revealed a flash of lasciviousness, just how you wanted, and he sent a shiver down your spine as he whispered back: 

"And with what purpose, sweetheart?" Chuckling airily, you pulled him even closer, until he smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, more determined, more aggressive and expectant of a continuation in this dangerous game. 

"So that I know what I'll be screaming tonight." 

For a second, you felt him falter, breath hitching as he took in your words, causing fear to rise in your chest as a flash of the timid lovesick angel ran across your vision, and you could almost picture Mingi instead of the canvas for a good night who you were seducing. But this did not last nearly long enough for you to back down, and a line of kisses along the jawline, intimate yet loveless, purely carnal and revering your determination confirmed your selection. This man was on your wavelength, and this man was: 

"Bold of you to assume that you’ll be able to, sweetheart. I dare say it won’t be usef-." 

Use me.

The phrase flashed in your mind just as the attractive man closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Without as much as a pause, he tilted your head slightly, giving himself a better angle to lightly nibble on your lower lip, sending a shudder down your back. Fingers digging into your skin as he swallowed another sigh - a fragment of your tainted soul for him to keep, he was the embodiment of addiction. The luminance from the neon hallucinations that surrounded you were decorating your and his skin in vibrant greens and purples. He was confident, self-assured, leading despite possessing the hints of an otherwise reserved man. Your thoughts involuntarily drifted to a certain bashful someone who had ended up with you at the wrong place, at the wrong time, and you - in the wrong mindset. Tonight, you wanted to be used. This much you deserved and required in order to purge yourself of this newfound tendency to reminisce and compare everything against Mingi. Who were you? The one you chose to entertain yourself with tonight had his teasing tongue against your lips, not exactly asking for access - demanding it, and it reeled you back into the whirlpool of a daze that came with the deafening drumming of desire, growing louder and louder until nothing else would exist.

His touch - you were caught ablaze as you let him guide your footing off the dance floor and into the dimming lights towards the edges of the club’s main hall. His torso pressed against you, strong arm hooked around your upper body as he kissed the side of your neck. One blink, another and your back was pressed against a cool wall in the corridor that ran around the establishment’s perimeter, rarely traversed, often used by the likes of you and evidently, him. You could not bear to open your eyes out of fear of finding someone you did not want to see - the intensity of your recollections growing stronger with every arousing movement. The same high that you normally would be building up towards was nowhere to be sensed while your nameless lover reached for your breast, cupping and kneading it with an open, salacious wanting. There was little left to the imagination, just as you had initially wanted, and yet something was missing from the series of events that the universe offered to you; the storyline that you had crafted was beginning to get dreary. Squinting down to force yourself into this darling’s passionate kisses, you still struggled to rid yourself of the monologues, the fears and most importantly, the terror-inducing phrase that had pierced through your heart and left shrapnel in every organ, turning into butterflies in your stomach and flowers in your lungs. It hurt to discover yourself in the same situation as before, always looking for something and someone better. Clearly, your stalling and rapid cooldown had not gone unnoticed as the man pulled away, hands back on your hips, one lifting to readjust your dress a little. What had been the glare of a predator was replaced with an almost friendly concern, and the danger which you had craved a mere few minutes ago evaporated, leaving behind an approachable gentleman, the swiftness of the change nearly giving you whiplash.

“Trying to forget someone?”

The question was jarring, somehow more jarring than how he was now presenting himself. With a glance to either side, he took you by the hand, leading you away from what was about to be your scene for a one night stand and back to the main hall. Stumbling over your feet you barely kept up with his pace, his taste, his scent still consuming you and rendering you to move and think slower, the combination with the ringing of alcohol in your bloodstream proving to be reckless, nearly deadly. As the thrum of a hip hop track reset the heart’s pace, jolting you awake and clambering for any kind of reassurance, your eyes met the tall beau’s gaze once again. He had smoothed the locks that you had ruffled, his slightly swollen lips, curled into a lopsided grin being the only sign of what had just unfolded. You could not help but raise an eyebrow, only now registering his question and deeming the gesture to be an appropriate response.

“I don’t exactly fuck emotional baggage, if you get what I mean.”

“Ouch, but fair.” breathless, you squeezed the answer out of your throat, unsteady.

“Glad we understand each other, uh…” he trailed off, attempting to recall the name you did not give. You tilted your head, trying to do the same for him, but failing to find an answer. Did it slip your mind? The recent past turned to centuries, accelerating into emptiness. 

“Hm?”

“Yeah. Just, glad we’re on the same page, I guess.” he cleared his throat, looking back at the vibrancy of dance and sensuality unfolding before you. The music changed once more - once again, another song about a body count and about substances that you would never mention in the daytime. At least not yet. Your head began to hurt, perhaps only a little more than your heart.

“Y/N.”

“Mm…ha. Nice to meet you. You can call me… Yun.” he deliberated for a while before giving you what you assumed to be either a nickname, or a parting gift of a syllable just for you. 

“Nice to meet you, Yun.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, it was clear that he was looking for the right words to let you down slowly and make a swift escape back to his own life, his own friends, his own respective path that was far from yours. Very likely, as it should be. With a sharp exhale, you smiled, making it your turn to induce perplexion. With every vice came sacrifice and risk, and this type was far too common. Be it from starting on the wrong foot or losing the rhythm and steam in the process, two people under the cover of night with nothing tying them together were bound to drift away, it was simply a matter of when. Evidently this was happening sooner rather than later for you and what you had been hoping would be a solution to your anguish. It had to have been your fault, you told yourself while an unreadable gleam settled on your features and you gave the man a single wave to suggest that he need not bother with excessive politeness - after all you had gotten to know each other well enough for that, at least in your books.

“Guess I am right then.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your reaction.”

“Meet quote unquote emotional women often?”

“They seem to be my type.” you chuckled as he shifted his stance and took a step closer to you, only to turn his body to observe the dance floor while standing by your side. As friends would. An involuntary memory stabbed at your side one again as you mumbled back:

“Maybe you’re a magnet.”

“I don’t mind when they look so good,” with a look to the side, Yun regarded your pose - leaning against the wall, arms crossed, previous aims for allure forgotten as your eased into a more comfortable back and forth, the rush ebbing away to be replaced with an anxious dissatisfaction, “Alas, you are in too deep I fear.”

“Am not.” you hissed out, brows knitting together as you desperately clung onto the present, only to hear and see the same voice, the same words, the same man who you were so adamant to erase. With every sentence uttered by the man, Mingi became more prominent. A laughing stock to the self and to all others - you shook your head. What had gotten into you?

“I don’t like to be called other people’s names during sex, sorry, not my kink.”

The out of pocket line, completed by a realisation at his own choice of words coaxed a chuckle out of your otherwise progressively crumbling state. Even though you had tried to remain below your limit, the alcohol in your system was hitting you with an inexplicable force, the pounding of your chest travelling to your temples, getting stronger until you could barely focus on Y- was it Yun? Yang? Yeong? You needed something to dull this. Remove this. Cut it out of your system so that you did not have to think.

“Fair.” you forced out, the neutral smile remaining on the lips, lingering traces of a falsified passion becoming your new tint, a colour you liked to wear so often it could be your favourite.

“Have a good night, yeah? Sorry things couldn’t be more fun, darling.”

There it was, you could read it on his face. Embarrassment, pity, the hope to never encounter you again. The reason why you always left first, turned around and strode away into the darkness from whoever it was you were to pick for the night. Including the one man who had revealed his soul to you; his innermost thoughts. And just like an automaton, a faulty machine, you blended his heartfelt words with the filth made for a landfill of lies and dread. The back of the failed thrill, whose name was just out of reach, growing smaller and blending into the scenery was a slap across the face, even though you had told yourself time and time again that you had seen enough of the same to not be affected. It had to be the lights, you told yourself. Definitely the lights. And how they reminded you of Mingi, how his eyes reflected the hues as he stared into yours so tenderly, like he was seeing an angel. How he gently held you, your fragility becoming his eternity as he whispered the words that acted like the flutter of the butterfly’s wings that caused the storm. Logic was struggling to keep up with your rumination - this was a different club and a different man, nothing about this could ever amount to the night you had felt like a goddess. If anything, the abandonment was gnawing at your flesh like a foul, feral beast, exposing you more than your dresses ever could.

An airy laugh accompanied your amble towards the bar. You should have known  - after all, if you were told to not think of the pink elephant, you would only think of the pink elephant. Same with the ‘no Mingi’ rule. It was an endless cycle that you were trapped in, and as days stretched out into two weeks, the avoidance was becoming unbearable. Your hand moved on its own as you called the bartender over, mouth and throat working together, far removed from your mind as they ordered champagne. Why? What was there to celebrate? There was no way of knowing, but the bubbles were your closest friends tonight, and you wanted to forget what just happened and whatever was supposed to happen until Saturday were to roll around - tomorrow could be the day you took care of the dirty laundry.

It did not take long for the beverage to transform you, and in a matter of a quarter of an hour with two or so glasses down you were back on the dance floor. But the vigour, the style and the soaring supremacy were nowhere to be found. As you tried to find your place among the sweaty bodies, nudged around by sharp elbows and tugged away by grubby hands, the sensation of belonging was but a mirage. Slow, you wanted to be anywhere in this cesspool of limbs, move along with the rest of the masses and get lost in the action so you did not have to consider your own movements, giving yourself up to the inertia of a wild crowd. One push, another, you were crammed between one figure and another, another push and a snag at your hair and you were flinging yourself wildly to an illusion of freedom in a different section of the floor. A phone flying beside you, barely an inch away from your cheek, flicking your earring and momentarily blinding you with a flashlight that had been left on. What were they looking for, you wondered. Perhaps the same thing as you. As you spun your head around, the pounding getting louder once again, the shoving had become more aggressive and two rough hands landed on your waist, supported by a lewd greeting. Jolted awake from chaotic musings, you grabbed a fistful of someone’s shirt, screaming out until the bubbly was rendering your speech incomprehensible - someone had to help you. Commotion unclear, breathing unsteady, the hands, the legs the torsos and heads all morphed into one creature who you were battling in your last fit of rage. Another pull, earning a yelp, and you were encountered with a familiar face. Y, or was it A, or I? Something or other, his name was a mystery to you. Tall. Handsome - you thought. In the blur it was impossible to detect. You remembered that he tasted sweet. Or maybe not - the champagne had taken over your system, your miniature party for one. Pushing yourself off the man you stumbled towards what you remembered to be the emergency exit. At least you were careful enough to avoid dragging yourself out of a club in shame from the front entrance; you were not that inexperienced to allow yourself to do that. 

Cursing under your breath you put one hand on the black wall of the corridor that would lead you to your freedom. Passing by a place your instinct was telling you was significant, you paused, only to shake your head and step forwards. One, two, three, four - congratulations, you could count. The coolness of the metal on the door was a relief as you leaned over unceremoniously to press your forehead against it, not caring if someone were to see you. You sighed into the sensation as the metal absorbed some of the heated rush, a portion of clarity returning to you and reminding you of your initial mission. That was right, you needed to get out. And ‘needed out’ in general.

With one quick shove the door swung open, spitting you out onto the sidewalk of, much to your fortune, a less crowded street, occupied for the most part by equally inebriated party-goers, celebrating the miracle that was a Friday night - a time that was slowly turning into your nightmare. A cacophony of beats and melodies from one club, another, all accumulating in a sonorous hellscape to render your senses almost fully numb. Feeling the air in front of you, you swore you could touch every particle, tendrils of wind brushing past you like a busy stranger. While there were not that many people, some yelling, others laughing wholeheartedly from the belly to the heavens, others simply enjoying the drinks that they carried out from their venues of choice, they most certainly had enough of a presence to leave you pitifully shattered. All eyes, of all hues and intensities, rolling and glaring and focusing on you. Poring over your miserable form and minimising you into a vermin under observation, a bacterium trapped on a petri dish under a microscope. They knew, they had to know about what had happened - about everything. They could read you from one year to another and were ready to tear you apart. They knew that you were a slave to the escapism, knew that you were a creature of lascivious habit, knew that you were thoughtlessly hurting the people you loved-

Loved. Nausea caught up to you as the word crawled into the forefront of your dazed mind, settling like a viscous tar over every subject matter and memory, over consciousness itself. Though it was nearly impossible to finetune your movements, you managed to locate the pole of a streetlight without having to slam a swinging hand into it for guidance, and slide down onto the edge of the cold pavement. Narrowly avoiding a discarded bottle, caked with unrecognisable substance and pulp from the wet and tarnished label, you felt your weight press into the stone, hoping that you would dissolve into the painfully rigid material. Elbows on your legs and hands on your face, you desperately tried to wipe the word away - you did not mean it, did you? You never had to say it, why say it now? Your familiar monster reared its head, drinking every last droplet of your sobriety to combat what you had admitted. Who did you love? Two legs drifted past you, stopping for a second to let a voice call out to you before you waved them off. Click-clack, click-clack away and away, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again. Who did you love? The pounding of your heart was overwhelming you, and you could barely hear yourself over its chaotic drumming. Who did you love? While it was easy to imagine your closest friends, the same ones who had tried to protect you from yourself and who, undoubtedly, were now cursing your name and the ground you walked on, your brain decided that there was another, less welcome character that should join the scene. With a groan, you clenched your hands into white-knuckled fists and hit your temples, once, twice as though that would help in getting rid of the precious image.

This had to be happening because Mingi said it first. The reason why Mingi was the one to persistently sway you, haunt you even when you were purposefully trying to drown in yourself and others, had to be because he planted those words in your mind when you least expected it - forced them upon you, an unwelcome gift. This was how it always happened: drawn in by the attention, promised a future and wholehearted adoration, you gave your all, only for the one who dared to utter the words to step away, having fulfilled their needs. ‘I love you’ was an exchange token, and apparently, your local currency. Like a penny out of rotation, those words should not hold any meaning, but they did, and you hated yourself for it. You hated how easily they had rolled off Mingi’s tongue, hated how they replayed in your head more times than you could process, hated how they were the words you wanted to hear again. Out of all the words in every language, these were the ones that introduced pain to the world.

He needed to answer for himself, your mind decided. Your rationality would consider the consequences later. Now, you needed answers. To what questions? That, too, could be decided at a later time. Clumsy hands searching in your purse, roughly pushing aside a slim card wallet and keys to take out the device which was now illuminating your fatigued features, the glare of the screen making you squint, every number and letter barely legible due to an intense blur that dominated your vision. If only you could wipe it away - a hand reaching to rub at the eyes, not caring for the eyeshadow nor the mascara, more darkness, friction, light again. As you moved the phone closer and further away from you in an attempt to find a golden distance that would give you better focus, as if you were operating with a broken camera, the thumb kept on searching for the right number. Contact after contact names flew by, turning into one continuous line, with the surnames and nicknames twisting and turning like snakes, colliding trains in your brain until finally, you found him. Not in the contacts, but in the myriad of messages you had left on read - another pattern characteristic of yours. It was not that you wanted to leave people behind, but your hands never felt strong enough to respond, and your thoughts could never tie together a satisfactory response. So you stayed silent.

He had checked on you, apparently. Asked if you were okay. The first time was two weeks ago. Then ten days. Then, radio silence. Probably was mad at you. You could not blame him. There had been no explanation, nor any wish to contact from your end - while it was what you usually did to strangers, not catching their name beyond the bedroom, nor ever seeking them out after you used their bodies, Mingi had been a friend. Not anymore, at least that was certain. But still, habit could not cut it here. This was why you needed answers - why could he not act like everyone else and fall in line, into the clear cut moulds? Finger hovering over the call button, now burning into your skin, you could not stop yourself from shaking. Biting your lip, all hints of colour replaced by a rekindling fire, you took the step over the edge, repeating his name in your head like a mantra as the call connected, and you imagined his phone starting to ring, somewhere out there in the city. Suddenly, your thoughts could not be more lucid, and you could almost see how the device would be vibrating on his bedside table. Right, he had to be asleep by now, surely. Just as you were about to end the call, however, the screen changed, and the time began to climb from zero.

“Uh… it’s… midnight or something… Y/N?” his husky voice, husky, warmer than the summer sun answered you. You remained quiet, afraid of letting this moment go, “Y/N? Are you okay?” he was asking if you were okay-

“Where are you?” a new harshness snapped you out of your temporary stupor.

“I- uh… I- am…” you tried, but could not find the right answer, however much you tried.

“Are you at… a club?” The pause was nearly lethal. You focused on the rustling in the background - it seemed that you were right and he indeed was in bed. Not anymore. A sigh and a thump, more movement. He was disappointed, wasn’t he? But he was listening. He had to listen to you.

“Not… not anymore.”

“Did someone hurt you?” The question felt foreign, unexpected. You raised your head, hugging your knees to your body, a terrible frailness seeping to your very bones.

“N-no…”

“Where are you?”

You could not believe that you were talking to Mingi. After all this time he was still talking to you, answered your late night call and was asking how you were. An angel in human form, so precious, so cute. A giggle escaped you as you found a slightly less dirty spot on the concrete to lean back and rest your hand on. Feeling some tension in your back unwind, your muscles were given freedom to turn restless. You wanted to scream, but that was bound to make Mingi end the call, and you did not quite want to stop listening to that voice of his - your strange addiction. Eyes closing, you let him repeat the question again, accompanied by jingle that could only be his keys. 

“I…”

“Street? Sign? Anything? Y/N,” he paused, exhaling, “...talk to me.”

“About…?” you asked, not catching onto what he meant.

“About the damn location. I am coming to get you.”

“Wait… really?” you slurred, fighting the desire to pass out, weighed down by another wave of tiredness.

“Yes. You are drunk. It is the least I can do.”

“What’s the most?”

“Location, for fuck’s sake. Check the street name or something. Can you walk?” he shot back, louder than before, speaking right into the microphone, the last bits of sleep evaporating from his tone, leaving behind the deep vocal ocean that you wanted to drown in.

“Uh huh,” whether you were lying or not, you were about to find out. Clambering for the street light once again, you heaved yourself up, barely catching yourself before tumbling back down, unstable on your heels. Clearly, your heavy breathing was caught by the phone as you heard Mingi asking if you were okay, again, “...just peachy, darling.”

The pet name never sounded more natural and comforting than now, flying to and through Mingi like lightning. The silence over the line was a terrifying suspense, making you wonder about what you said. You could not find anything particularly wrong. Wasn’t this how people who cared about one another spoke? Blinking away the stars in your eyes that were ceaselessly twirling in flashes of white and black, you wobbled towards a rectangle on the corner of the small street, which had to be the sign that Mingi was asking for. Mumbling the words on the board, half to yourself, half to him, you commended the otherwise laughable victory of being able to pick out the characters and interpret them.

“Okay… not too terribly far. I’ll come pick you up. Do not wander. Did you hear me?”

“Mhm…”

“What did I say?”

“...uh something about wandering, right?” An exhale. More footsteps. 

“Stay where you are. Stay. Heard me?”

“Yes Mingi darling, I did.”

“Good I- yeah. Just. I’ll be right there.”

Beep. Silence. A car in the distance darting past. Laughter. A flicker of the streetlight. The breeze caressing your legs. People walked past as you hugged your form, aware that it would not do anything to help you. You were counting the threads, the pieces of cloth sewn together to form what you had considered armour with the tips of your fingers, every groove accentuated as you swayed in your solitude, convinced that what had just happened was a dream. It had to have been. Who would listen to you in this state? It had to be your mind playing tricks on you, feeding you more and more visions until you would snap under them.

Fine. You were going to call him tomorrow, yes, that was right. When you were feeling better, you would call Mingi, apologise. Maybe over a coffee - yes that was better. Did he drink coffee? Was he even in town? Questions climbed up the walls of your consciousness while you, frustrated with the way in which the straps of your high heels were digging into your skin, crouched to take the culprits of your physical pain off. One shoe, another, and you were freed from the localised dolor. Stillness transforming into an amble, you made it a mission to walk to the larger street. There, you could get a taxi - there were always many of them around night time in neighbourhoods like this, kind drivers with kind metres if you gave them a pretty enough smile. 

Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are. I love you. Stay where you are.

Who said that? You froze mid stride, losing balance onto to have your back hit the brick wall of the building to your side, just under the sign you had read out to - 

So it did happen after all. You had talked to Mingi. Moaning out in frustration, you slid down the rough structure and onto the ground beneath you, throwing an empty water bottle and a fast food wrapper away from you in anger. Unable to recall what you had said to him, you settled for piecing together his voice, hands emulating the linking of a jigsaw puzzle in front of you. Purse having long become a bracelet, and phone clenched in one of your hands as if it was permanently linked to your body, the only thing that existed was every phrase that he had uttered into your ear, like he was standing by you. So much for not thinking of Song Mingi. Way to go. What a treacherous night this was. Head feeling heavy, you began to give into the signs of oncoming slumber, nodding off, cheek approaching shoulder, earring brushing over bare skin.

Mingi was not one for breaking the law, but his accelerator most certainly was. Rushing past every traffic light as though each one was a checkpoint, he sped through the city’s sleepless streets, only the final destination being his priority. Heart pounding, he barely looked at the navigator on his phone as he slammed on the gas. Ridiculous. Radical. If he were to ever tell his friends about this, they would call him a fool. After two weeks of nothing, for him to jump at the first call - he was clearly making the same mistakes, every turn a wrong one. If scouting clubs for the next pleasure hit was your addiction, burning himself on your flames was his. In the icy silence his days had been serene, and he hated it. There was no expectation, nor any hope for him to cling to. In the morning after you had left, even though Mingi had anticipated this and promised himself that he would not be upset, his preference was clear: it was better to live in an illusion rather than face the fact of not being wanted, and never standing a chance. You had turned your attention to him when he had asked for you to use him - that was the place he should have known and stayed if he wished for you to ever look in his direction again. 

That was why when his phone lit up with your name, and a photo filled the screen, one that he had taken of you when you, him, Wooyoung and San had all gone to a nature reserve for a spontaneous weekend getaway which you probably did not remember but it was precious to him, he threw sleep out of the window. It was easy enough, considering his recent pre-sleep routine of rationalising the events of that night. His mind was already trained on you when he finally got you to speak. You were floating, not quite like yourself, but your feelings were clear - not a hint of malice towards him, dreamy, rendering him breathless.

Mingi blamed himself for not being persistent enough, instead choosing to take a step back and give you whatever space you wanted or needed. He had done that in university when you were still friends, he had done it right up until that night, it was nothing new. Let you forget him until you suddenly craved his company, or felt it necessary to invite him to whatever function you had scheduled. Running a hand through his hair, short and strawberry blonde, hints of pink across the strands giving way to darker roots, he tried to calm his nerves. It was torturous to picture you in a vulnerable state, on a night when you normally felt and looked invincible. But since you called him, it was his duty to ensure that this held true.

Only a couple of minutes later, Mingi found the required street and, upon making a turn he slowed down and halted beside a figure curled up by the side wall. He cursed himself for not being faster. Panic shot up his spine and across every limb. He made a beeline towards you, shutting the door to the driver’s seat particularly hard in his distress. Assuming the worst, Mingi was in front of you in the matter of seconds, crouching down to peer at your face, noticing the smudged mascara, lipstick traces trailing onto your skin, flushed cheeks, sickly, glazed over and half-lidded eyes. Scowling, he regarded you in your Friday night glory, wondering why you thought you deserved this self-treatment in the first place.

“Y/N.”

No response. You remained stationary, with only your head occasionally threatening to fall to the side, hair snagging on the rough, eroded bricks behind you. Carefully, Mingi reached out, balancing himself on his bent knees, and pushed back a lock that was obscuring your face, convincing himself that you looked better already. Heart aching, he tried calling out to you another time, and then another, naively hoping that you could ascend from your state in an instant. As he put his hands on your delicate shoulders, gingerly tilting you forwards and away from the freezing, disgusting wall, he bit back his logic and chose to listen to the senses that you had so easily manipulated. 

Was this really the same person who had him wrapped around her finger? Malleable, putty in his hands you sank into his hold as he wiggled back to try and get you to find your own footing. Rising into a standing position, he lifted you up, sighing in relief when, even if only automatically, you followed the movement. He wanted to be mad at you - his brain was yelling for him to leave, return to the comfort of his home, alone, and let you figure things out for yourself. That was easy - just forget about you and have no morals. Sure. You were in a dangerous situation. But did you not have any friends who could take care of you? Where were they? Head turning side to side as if that would give him an answer, Mingi checked his surroundings. Only a collection of strangers, some of whom were enjoying the free entertainment, at least until they felt his glare settling on them. Quick feet on the pavement, dissipating into the midnight darkness.

“Oh… oh…” you groaned, as though waking up from a restless slumber. In his surprise Mingi nearly slipped, only just managing to support you again by hooking his arms around your torso instead of under your arms.

“Y/N, you are like, drunk drunk.”

“Just a lit-tle tipsy… is all, Mingi darling,” you answered slowly, lifting a hand to pinch your thumb and index finger together to show just how sober you were apparently - if only the move was coordinated, then maybe at least it could have given a good laugh. 

The affectionate pet name was ringing in his head, and no matter how much, and with what strength he was trying to brush it off, the buzzing persisted. Clinging onto him, a vexatious beast, echoing the weeks that had gone by after he had so willingly given himself up to you. If he were to be honest with himself, he would not be able to forget you even if by some futuristic miracle, he would be able to reset his consciousness. You were his nightmare and his dream, a haze in which he was lost for as long as he was alive. Cursing himself over and over, he opened the rear door closest to the two of you, whispering his sequence of moves out loud, knowing full well that you were probably not observing, nor listening.

The only thing on your mind was the comfort that was Mingi himself. How he had pulled you closer, and your hands landed on his broad chest. Hands snaking under the varsity jacket he put over a cotton tee, you felt your fingers warming up, the toned, sculpted beauty underneath turning into an alluring stability. There was nothing stopping you from closing the space, was there? Squinting, you took in his face, gasping as he turned away from you, revealing his side profile. Glasses, perfectly perched on the bridge of his nose, ever so slightly parted lips, a determined scrutiny of whatever it was that was in front of him. You could almost taste it. Apparently, it was easy to forget prior losses when the one you had been searching for in other bodies appeared before you.

Certainly, it had to have been him at the club however long ago. It had to have been, you were only looking for him and got lost, right? Fully convinced that you were right, despite Mingi being dressed more for a late night walk along a river bank rather than for a night of clubbing and hedonistic debauchery, you mumbled, cowering while he was trying to turn you and get you to take a seat:

“I missed you… Mingi.”

Eyes still half closed, you tilted your head to look in the approximate direction of your saviour, or companion… friend? It could not be. There ceased to be any lines that you could cross, and you were, for the first time in a long time, okay with it. You did not need nor want the barriers, not when his perfume was your salvation, not when his strong hands were rubbing your upper arms, not when you watched him take off his jacket and wrap it around you in slow motion. It was warm. He was warm. But he was not responding. The quiet was deafening as he nudged your legs, motioning for you to hop further into the vehicle - so you were in a car, huh? A couple of thuds somewhere below you, and a pair of heels manifested themselves on the floor of the salon. Obliging, you fell back inside and saw the light shutting itself away from you. A click, and you were alone. Trapped. There was no Mingi. 

Wrapping your hands around the edges of the thick material, you pulled it tighter around you, emulating an embrace. Why were you left alone? Was this a prank? Was Mingi tricking you? Question after question, there were too many to answer in the midst of an oncoming headache, but you knew that you needed to leave this instant - Mingi was outside and he had to be waiting for you. After all, you needed to give him back his jacket. You were done running backwards. Just as you ran a hand over the door, looking for the right handle or button or whatever the car could possibly have, another door opened, revealing the same man, your same Mingi, still dressed in the same outfit as you had just seen, still in those glasses that suited him so well. 

Through the gap between the headrest and the main seat, you gleamed at him, reassured that you were no longer abandoned in the metal box. The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched upwards, though the majority of his response was evidently suppressed. He had to be hiding something. He must be mad at you. This was because you had been gone for too long, and then reappeared drunk out of your mind - he had said so himself. His voice boomed in your ears, blooming into a deafening echo that muted the car’s engine. Only once the car started did the realisation hit you - you had no idea that he even drove. The last night you had been together, you had taken a taxi, and he was sitting right next to you - you could recall every touch on your skin, over your dress, his ragged, shallow breaths. You needed to sleep, this was a dream… a dream… it had to be a nightmare… you were planning on talking to Mingi tomorrow… you would call him as soon as you woke up from this discord…

Crawling through the metropolis, the car stormed farther and farther from the district which you had decided to mark as your place of shipwreck. It was not the same location as before, he noted, now having more of an opportunity to piece together what had unfolded. If he was any more cynical and any less in love with you, he would have made it a case to point out that probably you intentionally had selected a spot that was a considerable distance away from your usuals because hell or heaven forbid your friends would stop you. Mingi had no clue as to what occurred in the time you were non-existent in his daily life, but evidently it had taken a considerably negative toll. Passed out on the back seats, you were exhausted by the world in which you lived, the world which was mercilessly testing you and draining you for all you were worth.

Stopped at a lonely red light, the hue crept through the windshield, settling over the salon and the two lost souls contained within. Quickly taking out his phone to check the time - no longer needing it for navigation after having the route imprint itself in his memory, he pinched the bridge of his nose, careful not to let the glasses slip. It was almost one in the morning - the commotion and additional steps because of your inebriated state had accumulated, long leaving the last day of the so-called work week behind. Happy weekend - with a bitter aftertaste, he uttered the words under his breath, shoving the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and shifting to turn around to take a quick look at you. You were peaceful, your features fully relaxed. Your purse had turned into something of a pillow, and while your legs could not exactly rest comfortably on the seats, you appeared to be blissful how you were, nuzzled into his jacket. Drifting in his musings, studying your every detail Mingi almost did not notice the lights change, relying solely on instinct to switch gears and move forward. With one last glance, he continued his journey, realising that he was not sure where your home was. Driving you to your closest friends was not an option either, considering that you did not mention nor call them - and if you did not want to see them, he should not be the one to orchestrate a falling out. There was always time for drama, but he did not want to extend it for himself.

Making one final, decisive turn that would take him to his neighbourhood, Mingi gripped the steering wheel to curb an accumulating nervousness. It was a sudden pang, a memory lifting itself up from the chaos he had brushed under the carpet after you had spontaneously left. He had not been fully asleep, simply spent and trustful, but everything stopped him from following you. As if a spear had mounted him to the bed - he was nothing more than a feeble bug on display, rotting. There was nothing he could have done, he was sure, except maybe not saying what he had said. In retrospect it was easy to see that those three words had been the final shot in the torn up heart. So, for the better, he was not going to say them, and pretend he never did, if that was what was going to let you sleep better and recover. That night was long in the past, and should be treated as a spectre. As weeks would go by perhaps you could look at him again, and be genuine in your feelings towards him. And he would not have to put himself up for sacrifice to gain your attention. 

Soon enough, his apartment building was in sight, and the wheels rolled him closer and closer to his next dilemmas. Letting out a trembling breath, Mingi clicked a button on his keys once he approached the gates to the underground parking. You were as still as ever, consumed by your slumber. Coming to a halt at his designated spot, he killed the engine and fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The noises that had crawled out from the club turned into wisps of risk and melancholia, clinging onto your otherwise gorgeous dress and filling the vehicle until that was all he could sense. Hands on the steering wheel, Mingi attempted to plan his next moves, thinking of the trip to the elevator, the ride up, and just how he could convince you to be lucid enough to help him in getting you cleaned up. Love and confusion aside, you were a person who needed help and support, and he was the one you had trusted in your last moments before losing sobriety.

It was a long trip. From you not quite being able to make it out of the car, to you nearly tumbling into the elevator and dragging Mingi down with you, the young man was sure that he had never had to be on such high alert ever in his life. Not even when he had to act in the role of a sleuth to figure out where your lectures had been back in university, and whether there was any way in which your paths could cross. It seemed that now he did not have to force fate’s hand quite as much. With one final stumble over the door frame that marked the entrance to his apartment, you were in, safe and secure from the outdoors, and Mingi could begin thinking more comfortably. Kicking off his own shoes, he ignored the feeling that arose when you intertwined your fingers with his as you waited. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, there was something endearing about you, pleasantly childish qualities protruding through the hardened exterior of an experienced seductress. Like there was still some vulnerability left, and Mingi was the only one to see it. Adjusting his glasses out of habit, or perhaps to mask his growing concern due to your spontaneously peppy disposition, he tugged on your arm, making you follow him past the living room and towards a breakfast bar that served as a divider to the kitchen. Stopping mid-stride, he turned and pointed for you to take a seat on the sofa.

You had vague recollections of the interior, but the lighting, which remained dim, prevented you from making out any details. After Mingi left your side, you curled your legs under your body and flopped onto the decorative pillows that occupied the right corner. Huddling as if it was your nest, you made yourself comfortable. Without him being right next to you, the sensation of being embraced remained. He was in every thread and every space; you could finally inhale and exhale tranquillity. Clinking of glasses and the sound of pouring piqued your inquisitiveness, albeit fuzzy in the half-consciousness, and you called out to Mingi’s approaching figure, a loopy grin plastered on your face.

“He-hey, let’s get the party started… is that champagne?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s got you… like this?” with the hand that was holding the full glass, Mingi gestured over your body.

“Like how? How am I now?”

“Like a bar after a football match.” he deadpanned, carefully taking a seat next to you and grabbing your hands. Upon ensuring the cup was secure in your grasp, he fell backwards to rest his head on the back of the couch, momentarily shutting his eyes. He was curious if you would be able to figure out that what you were about to drink was water.

“Huh? You’re mean…” mumbling to yourself, you lifted the beverage, taking a tentative sip. The cool liquid soothed you, eliminating the burning that occupied your mouth and throat for however long you had been in and out of the handmade turmoil. Greedily you took a gulp, another, until nearly all the water travelled to nourish your dehydrated, fatigued self. The cup, too, possessed a welcome coldness, refreshing, a change to the static that was rolling like thunder in your cranium. You could not resist the temptation to put the glass against your temple, sensing another wave of the dull ache returning to you.

“How much did you drink?”

“Interesting question. Just drank a whole glass,” you teased, aware that Mingi was likely after a different response, but you were all for omitting the truth as much as you could.

“I mean out there.”

“Where?”

“The club.”

“Oh… uh… a… a couple here and there.”

“Knowing you, that is like a whole bottle.”

“What can I say? I have a high tolerance.”

“If only you had a better tolerance for other shit,” his comment caught you off guard. Said to no one in particular, but staying suspended in the air, the phrase was less supportive than what you would have hoped for. He was definitely mad. The anxiety that had been resting on your shoulders like a foul beast stirred awake, digging its nails into your skin until the question you asked far too often slipped away from you, throwing you back into your antique patterns, ones you thought you had buried for good.

“Are you mad at me?” you sounded timid, and a hand instantly flew to your mouth, clumsily covering it. Mingi’s eyes shot open, him giving you a once over from his leaned back position. Sitting up, he raised an eyebrow.

“Say what now?”

“I… are you mad at me?”

“Wh-... why would I be?” he cleared his throat, curious as to what you had conjured and were proposing as an interpretation of his actions.

“I… well I… I am too much aren’t I… I am here, you are - wait what time is it? It should be so late, or early… ha, ha, I don’t even… wait so are you not mad at me? But I am just so all over the place and now I am… wait - what time? Is it? Are you supposed to be sleeping, oh my goodness yes you are I am intruding aren’t I, I should be home, wait how did you find me? Were you there with me? Was I doing anything weird oh why did I go tonight I was not supposed to go but no I had to go and forget you know I wanted to forget everything but you kept on coming back are you ma-”

“Y/N-”

You were speeding up, forgetting air, forgetting that you were safe. You imagined yourself to be in the middle of the ocean, clambering for anything to hold on to. But the more you struggled, the less you could see, and yet you could only continue speaking. Faster, faster, filling the emptiness with your every thought as if there was no space neither in your heart nor your mind to keep them close and safe. As if this was a bargaining token or a confession, and Mingi was the one to deliver a final judgement, or to pardon your every sin. You were afraid of what he could do, or maybe not do. The only thing that was vivid enough for you to grasp was the idea that you did not want him to go, and so you were desperately trying to catch every word you had uttered in your past that could possibly deter him. Oxygen was not an option when Mingi, your 'not quite a friend anymore', was on the line.

“Mad at me and I am not even sure why this is happening actually I know exactly why and I am sure this is a dream right now I mean you definitely hate me now maybe not before but surely now I did everything to make you hate me and I am just a mess I probably look the part I am sorry I am sorry I am so-”

“Y/N BREATHE.” with a raised voice, he cut you off. You had not noticed him lift himself off the sofa and move in front of you. He pushed the coffee table further back to give himself more space, and kneeled on one leg while prying the glass from your shaking hands. Though you had ceased to barrage him with sentences of raw dread, your breathing was still shallow, barely spaced out, lungs roaring for more, praying for relief.

Glass left on the table, Mingi’s hands clasped over yours, his gaze unwavering, searching. You could not read him. Everything you possibly wanted to say was bouncing around your skull in a painful flurry, inducing a lump that started to grow in your throat, accumulating mistakes and emotion. You did not deserve to face the man who was in front of you, but even when you tried to break away from his touch, he held on, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Breathe. Let’s count, shall we? Focus on my voice, okay?” Now, inhale, two, three, four-”

Switching approaches, Mingi distracted you. After a couple of rounds of counting, noting your darting glances he asked for you to point out three colours you could see. Three pieces of furniture. Slowing you down, gradually, grounding you until you were only the slightest bit unsteady. 

“I am sorry.” you mumbled, doubling over, forehead against his hands. In shock, Mingi did not retract them, instead staring at how your hair cascaded over your shoulders and down, down like a waterfall, glimmering softly in the night lights that crawled into the room through every window.

“For what?” barely a whisper, only a hint of curiosity in anticipation of hearing something less than pleasant. 

“For leaving,” he replayed the words in his head in utter disbelief. Never had he heard you apologise for disappearing, abandoning, making decisions that put you first. He had gotten used to it, considering it to be a trait that was normal to you, one that those close to you simply had to deal with. The two little words shed a new light, making him wonder just how you felt two weeks ago. You were not done, however, feeling the need to spill the secrets you had been holding, in the intimacy of night, of not having to look at him, “for going out and for thinking strangers could… could-”

“It’s okay… I-”

“How is it okay?” lifting your head, a portrait of misery was revealed. The makeup that had already travelled across to other parts of your face was now starting to etch streams down your cheeks, the tears being the only ones to confidently make their way. Mingi was at a loss, never having been able to predict that this night would end, or begin, like this.

“Well…”

“How? Please… I am… disgusting… Why do I always do this I-”

“Hey. Hey, listen to me,” hands on your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the rolling droplets, Mingi was reaching out for you, calling you back from the abyss into which you wished to fall, “first of all, no behaviour is quote unquote disgusting, you hear me?”

“Uh huh… but… but I hurt people- I… I hurt you…”

“Look, I know we have never had any deep one on ones before, but I know you are hurting. I think that answers quite a few things, doesn’t it?” trying his best to remain rational and calm, Mingi recalled phrases that he had been told many times, had said before, only now they held colossal meaning, weighed down by what had happened. 

“But why are you…”

“What I do is my choice, just like what you do is yours, yeah?”

“But I choose badly… like today at the club I-... I-” you tripped over your words, the recollection forcing you to shudder. Sensing the buildup, Mingi diverted your attention by holding your hands once more.

“So how can you choose better? I mean, let’s think about tomorrow. What were you thinking of doing? Take me through the day. Say, you wake up, you…” he gestured for you to continue after him.

“I… brush my teeth, fix my hair and clothes… make breakfast… call you," you stopped, staring into his dark eyes, shining with bittersweet tenderness. For the first time, he wanted to believe that you indeed were drunk.

“Call me?”

“...I was planning to…”

“Even if you found someone?” The comment stung, but was not unfounded. Mingi knew you far too well for you to deny that you would at least attempt to fill the weekly void.

“I only kissed him… I promise…”

“I,” tightening his jaw repeatedly, Mingi resisted the urge to snap, or to make any accusations. It was obvious to any fool that you had lived through enough without him adding fuel to the hellish fire, “like I said, your choice.”

“I don’t want to make it anymore.”

“Then make another. And keep trying until you find the one that’s right for you.” 

Dumbfounded, you could only look, and wonder if the man in front of you was real and was not figuring out ways to throw you out of his apartment. The idea could not be further from the truth. While he had to admit that the circumstances were not particularly romantic, nor was Mingi about to take every word and action as gospel, but this had to be the most candid he had ever seen you be, and the most open with him. Behind the gloss of a night fuelled by percentages, shots and bubbly, garnished with regretful actions and hopes for a restart, you were easy to read, your intentions and actions honest and benevolent. 

“I was going to call you,” you reiterated with conviction.

“Tomorrow,” Mingi responded, switching his positioning to sit down on the floor, one hand still holding onto you while the other flew to find purchase on the carpet, offering balance. His thumb traced patterns on your skin absent-mindedly while he waited for you to continue.

“Yeah.”

“And what were you going to do?” there was no way to know whether the answer he would hear was one he wanted to, or was ready to hear. Of course, he liked to believe he was used to you, but not to your new feelings.

Had it hurt when he realised that he had been discarded, just like he had anticipated? Of course. Had his closest friend given him an earful after finding him wholly zoned out during their scheduled mid-week lunch? Definitely - the words still stung him. But was Mingi in any way angry with you? He could not be even if he tried. You had stayed true to yourself, and he should be happy that you did. And yet, the hope he had been living with remained persistent, and your present actions were not helping him in getting over it.

“Apologise…” you leaned closer to him, drowsy, freed from inhibition. 

“And?” his voice dropped into a whisper as he could not bear to take his gaze off your and his hands.

The usual you, the alluring, domineering you who had one mission and one mission only on this night: to have a good time at any cost, was starting to resurface. You were grappling with your inner conscious, hoping to resurrect what you had previously labelled as confidence.

“Kiss you,” your act dropped quickly enough as you read the sadness in Mingi’s form, from the droop of the shoulders to the loosening of his hold on you, to the half-hearted joke that made you flush an embarrassing shade of pink. Awful, inducing the desire for the ground to disappear beneath you, but you could not stop.

“Through the phone?”

“No… on… like… a date?” shy, you proposed the idea to him.

“What’s with the questioning tone?” leaning back on both hands, Mingi regarded you. His black-rimmed glasses had slid down allowing him to look over the frame and into your soul, making you shiver. There was a seriousness in the gesture, a cold air of professionalism that you knew Mingi was capable of, but never experienced being directed at yourself. 

“I don’t know… I haven’t dated in a while I guess…” finding interest in the hem of your dress, you fiddled with the thick fabric.

“What’s got you so into it now?”

“My choice,” you echoed his words, earning an amused smirk. After a meek pause, you pushed out the inquiry, barely audible, “Would you kiss me back?”

“Depends on what you’re feeling when you kiss me.”

“But you said you loved me, didn’t you? Mingi?” you straightened yourself up, feigning nonchalance, pretending to not be hurt by the passivity that rested on Mingi’s face as he studied you. 

He wished he could make this easy and lead the conversation to a happy end, but that would only end in turmoil. Whatever you remembered, and whatever was so fresh in your mind could change in the blink of an eye, and later, in the morning, sober you could begin to despise yourself, and him in one go. The last thing he needed was for you to disappear from his life. So, it was better to restart. He bit his tongue for a couple of moments, swallowing every phrase that he had ceaselessly been repeating like mantras meant only for his walls to hear and hold no judgement towards, and selected denial, for your own benefit.

“...No such thing.”

“But I swear I-”

“I think it’s time to clean up and sleep, yeah?” he cut you off with searing neutrality. Rising from the floor, he flicked his hands for you to follow his actions. Though you had recovered enough to balance on your own, at least if you were to take everything slow, you were stuck in place, wanting to hear what you had been secretly longing for to spill from his lips.

“But, wait I-”

“Sleep time,” adamant to move past the painful hurdle, Mingi reiterated the implied command. Moving to grab your hand, he lifted you from the sofa, only to let go once you were on your feet. Taking the opportunity, you took small fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling the stunning man towards you. If he could not speak the words, surely he would want to express them?

“Kiss me now?” The question sounded more like an offer. Like you were placing your attention for sale, thinking that this was enough to establish a connection.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

Mingi wanted to collapse. Your eyes, the tremble in your voice, how you looked with his jacket still draped over your shoulders had him wrapped around your finger. He did want to kiss you, a little too much, if he were to be honest. And that was exactly why he backed away. If you had meant what you confessed, you would be able to say the same thing in the morning, and to his face. If you had been meaning to call him, you would be able to call out his name and be honest in wishing to see him, to be with him.

“I’ll kiss you when you’re fully sober, okay?” The negotiation seemed to work as you visibly relaxed and let him guide you to the bathroom, where he began to point out the makeup wipes, the towels, ignoring the fact that you had figured out the layout on your own some time ago and probably had some rough recollection.

“What a gentleman,” you uttered while roughly smudging your makeup with remover, not caring for the audience of one who was leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching you to make sure that you did not hurt yourself nor ruin anything too badly.

“It’s the bare minimum.”

“I suppose… I… uh… shower? Yeah?”

“Oh yeah… wait I’ll bring you some clothes or something. Do you mind what?”

“Whatever you are okay with giving me, darling.”

Hissing to himself, Mingi adjusted his glasses and clutched the jacket you returned in his right hand. He ambled to his bedroom in search of something that would inevitably end up smelling like you and serve as another reminder of just how easily he could give himself up for this kind of closeness. If he were to let his eyelids fall like a protective blanket, he could pretend for a split second that this was how it had always been - domestic, sweet, uncomplicated. Head turned away, Mingi returned, only to see your clothes not so neatly strewn about on the heated tiles. His eyes moved on their own accord, to settle on your silhouette, moving slowly behind the shower curtain. Despising the fact that he knew your body and craved it like water or air, he left the t-shirt and sweatpants that he had picked out lying in a folded pile by the sink.

Mingi was restless, storming from bedroom to living room and back again, his instinctive decision-making finally catching up to him and crashing down on his consciousness with full force. He had acted rashly, listening only to his heart, and in every point along the turbulent path back home when he could have let go of what was inevitably going to be more pain for you and for him, he selfishly refused to. While moving a pillow and throw to the sofa, he was in awe of his own dedication, and how, for you, he could thoughtlessly abandon everything that his studies had attempted to instil in him over the years, from university to clinical practice.

With a tired hand he took off his glasses, giving the lenses a half-hearted wipe with the edge of his tee, more out of habit than out of need. According to the lazy clock on his wall, it was nearing two o’clock in the morning. He shuddered, and heat rushed to his face. What was he doing two weeks ago at this time? It was best to ignore that and start anew. You were just a friend who by some twist of fate he ended up getting to know a little too intimately. But if exes could become friends, surely you two could work out, even if in your drunk state you were exposing feelings that were potentially resonant with his - obviously far from platonic. Mingi shook his head, ultimately failing to banish his optimism. He needed coffee, anything to get his mind off things, maybe his work emails.

In the middle of his preparations, also known as remaining idle while the coffee machine worked its magic, you reappeared from the bathroom, freshened up, cheeks pink, and dressed in his clothes, which, he hated to say, looked too good on you. The t-shirt he had picked out, originally oversized even for him, perfectly draped over your curves; hinted at everything, revealed nothing. A couple of dark spots where water from your hair had dripped onto the soft cotton made the scene all the more homely, comfortable, and the only thing holding him back from sweeping you into an impossibly tight hug was the grey that befell your unlabelled relationship with him. Mingi was a man of logic, preferring to set things up onto metaphorical shelves, and in his work he was known to be a brilliant theorist, consulted on matters of analysis and diagnostics. The idea of a situationship, no strings attached and any other synonyms irked him, and the more he looked at you, and how you gazed at him so serenely, the more he wanted to put his foot down and ask you to decide. But if you had set your mind on tomorrow - or as the clocks were saying later today, he had to do what he did best - wait. It had been two weeks. What would a few more hours do except give you time to sober up and figure out what it was that you wanted from him and yourself?

“All better?” Who was he asking? Thankfully, you interpreted it as a question directed at you. 

“Much better… sorry I am so out of it. Probably saying shit.”

“Don’t worry. I am just glad you are safe.”

“Mingi,” his name on your lips, the sweetest poison for his heart, “...thank you darling, really. I… hm, just thinking about what could have happened…”

“No need to think. About that, I mean.”

“And what should I think about?” raising an eyebrow, you captured the accidental slip of his musings in your delicate hands, subjecting it to scrutiny.

“Sleep.”

“You said that before. Besides, coffee? Really?”

“For me. I sleep better with coffee.”

Sure.”

“You can uh… I moved my stuff so you can sleep in the bedroom.”

“What about-”

“I’ll be right here.”

“I mean… we… didn’t we…” you wanted to allude to the bed having been shared before.

“I am here. You are there. Cool?” With the last of the americano having dripped into his cup, Mingi raised the hot beverage to take a careful sip, wincing as the liquid nearly burned his mouth. At least it served as a good distraction, just as he wanted.

“Mm… sorry. ‘Night.”

Spinning on your heels, you made a beeline for the bedroom, not waiting for Mingi’s response. Rejection after rejection; you smiled to yourself as you regarded the white sheets, decorated with a silvery sheen from the lights outside, washed over by a warm glow of the reading lamp positioned on the bedside table farthest from you. Welcoming, kind. Like the man who was now drinking coffee at hell o’clock in the morning, all because of you. The man who gave you his own clothes without a second thought. The man who kept on giving to a person who kept on taking. As you collapsed onto the sheets, crawling underneath the covers with an unprecedented exhaustion, you fell into a dreamless slumber with the thoughts of yourself being like a certain character from a famous animated film that you had watched with your friends, only to rewatch it on your own that same night once you got home. A spirit with no face, only an insatiable appetite, a rage that could not be extinguished - always more, taking from everyone, taking everything. Cloaked in black, a creature of darkness, without a place in society and meant sink into its own misery. You were alone in this world, wishing for the skies to clear, praying you would find the strength to fight for it.

He could not sleep. With the coffee finished but not the slightest hint of drowsiness approaching, Mingi stretched to grab the laptop that had been lying on the coffee table, choosing to go over his work emails that had accumulated from the time he had logged off just a night ago. Chain mail, Friday newsletters, reminders, rescheduling, appointment bookings, cancellations, conferences, journal updates, editor reviews… so much noise that settled like ash on his eyes, amounting to what appeared to be nothing. Segments of an imaginary success that drained him of any desire to show up on Monday. After answering what he could, Mingi pinched the bridge of his nose, and lied down on the couch, balancing the laptop on his stomach. He had foregone the throw, finding it to be more of a hindrance to his constant movement. What was it that he had told quite a few of his patients? Sleep was essential for a sound mind? Comical. Perhaps it was time to consult someone for his own troubles. He was good enough at solving things for others, but unfortunately that did not seem to apply when the ‘others’ was himself. If only he could stop concentrating on your presence in the room right next to him, on whether you were sleeping soundly and if you needed anything.

It was a quiet rustling that had woken Mingi up from a quick nap that he had fallen into. After a moment of disorientation, he registered the sound as being your footsteps, inching around the sofa in the approximate direction of the kitchen.

“Escaping?” recoiling as though you had been struck, you halted. After having been buried under a cosy duvet, the apartment felt cold, and you could barely hold back the shiver that was threatening to run over you. 

“Water… sorry did I wake you up?”

“Nah, wasn’t sleeping anyways. Here let me get it for you.”

Without another word uttered, nor any glances which could plant seeds of doubt in your head about his intentions, Mingi was right there with you, leading you to your target and pouring a glass. You did not mind how he watched you handle the item, nor how he took it out of your grasp as soon as you were done. He was gentle, even though each move did appear to be pre-calculated and strictly bound by a larger, all-encompassing decision. You tried to reach out for him, and when he stepped away after noticing you in the peripherals, the point was proven. Mingi was seeking distance. Biting your lower lip, the echoes of an earlier anxiety bubbled, manifesting itself in your classic black and white thinking.

“I am a mess,” like a coin dropped in a well, the phrase bounced from every wall, right back to you.

“Break that down for me,” crossing his arms, Mingi turned around and leaned against the counter.

“Are you going therapy mode on me?” you tried to joke, but the words came across more as an accusation. You felt weak, exposed. The shiver escaped, goosebumps now decorating your flesh, causing what you interpreted as pity to flash in Mingi’s eyes.

“I’m assuming that is what you’re seeking now, no?”

“...no.”

“Okay.”

As if the conversation had never begun, Mingi returned to drying his hands, leaving you alone with an unpleasant sobriety. With the early morning returned fragments of memories - a highlight reel of things you probably should not have said, but now that you had to own up to and either confirm or keep running away from. Inhale, exhale, and the words poured by themselves.

“Can we… talk about something?”

“Something?”

“I think… I… you know how I… wait I did say I was planning to call you right?”

“Mhm,” Mingi turned back, regarding you with an unreadable expression.

“So I have said a lot of things,”

“Yeah, and, what do you want to say to me?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“You already said it.”

“I mean it.”

“I know. What else?”

“Help me.”

“With… what?”

“I am afraid.”

“Of?”

“How I feel.”

“And how is that?”

“Well…”

You paused, throat drying. Your body recoiled from what you had settled on admitting. But it had to happen, even if the result would be you never seeing Mingi again, because at least you would have done something to try and defeat yourself. After hearing the three little words, and having them repeat over and over again, the light in which you saw your own life and saw Mingi had shifted. He could not be that same happy, naive, angel-like friend from university who had somehow ended up in your company of misfits and comrades in melancholy to you anymore. For the first time, you wanted to place a significance on a relationship that was beyond one night in a stranger’s bed. 

“I am afraid… that I- I-”

“What you are about to say, did you weigh it up? Did you consider it? Evaluate it? Are you sure that what you are about to share, and will be unable to reverse, is done with a clear mind?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to say it to me.”

“Yes, Mingi.”

You reached for his hands, worry making you play with his slightly cold fingertips. Intertwined, swinging side to side the tiniest bit, like a swaying of a sleepy willow; either the beginning, or the end. Mingi took a deep breath, as though preparing himself to be brutally smited.

“Then, um, as you were saying?”

“I want to fall in love with you.”

A laugh involuntarily flew from his chest, like a slap across your face. When you tried to slide past him, however, his arm wrapped around your upper body, pulling you close.

“Want to? What does that mean?” With prior seriousness being replaced by a more playful tone, the calm evaded you, “hey, take your time, it’s fine. You are already doing really, really well.”

“May I hug you?”

“Sure, c’mere,” he was the sun in late summer, the rays lulling, soothing. A glistening gold palette illuminated by a well-paired cologne that you were already wearing after resting in his bed, a masterpiece that you wanted to sink into and never escape. The horrors of the night that never stopped repeating were crawling away into their putrid caverns, providing at least a temporary relief and returning you to the waking, beautiful world. Mingi was comfortable in the best sense of the description, a stability that you had never dared to dream of. You pressed your head against him, shutting yourself away from cacophonous intrusions that had been leading you every Friday.

“You said you loved me.”

“Don’t remember,” the vibrations across his torso as he spoke soothed some of the pain inflicted by his answer. You could not blame him. Perhaps you two were much more similar than you had initially thought.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“A lot.”

“A lot.”

“Can you help me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Some things you should face yourself, I can only point you in the right direction. I can see that this goes beyond anything that either of us could mention or explore right now, and I hate to say it but there is no magic cure or something. It takes time and effort,” Mingi wrapped his arms tighter, one hand starting to pat the back of your head absent-mindedly, focusing on the sensation of each strand against his palm, “but what I can do is be here. For you. And if you want to, for us. How does that sound?”

“Like it’s too good to be true. I don’t deserve you.”

“No one deserves anyone. We just fit together, and we will make things work. Step by step,” Mingi made it sound easy. You wanted to believe him.

“We?”

“You just said you want to fall in love with me, Y/N. We kind of… need to be together for that to happen, methinks.” 

“Good point.” you mumbled, snuggling closer, hiding your face.

“May I be honest for a second?”

“Mhm.”

“I am not saying it so that we say it together when you’re ready, cool?”

“Say what?”

“You know, the L word,” you looked up to see him wiggling his eyebrows dramatically, making you chuckle.

“Oh… thank you, Mingi. I appreciate it. Yeah. Makes sense.”

In the tranquillity of the early dawn, you were not alone. Not curled up on the floor, a stranger to yourself, but in the arms of someone who cared and his feelings remained unchanged through times you thought anyone could, and would abandon you. You could finally hear your own thoughts becoming clear and level. Nothing could be better than the hope for such a bright tomorrow.

“Hmm… I think I liked when you were calling me darling in every sentence,” with a flick of your wrist you lightly hit Mingi’s broad chest, without pulling away. 

“I did not-”

“Are you not sober, darling?” he made you pause your denials, a sunny smile on his face.

“Okay fine yes I did…”

“Care to say it again?” taken by surprise by the request, you were left open-mouthed, with a raised brow.

“Darling?”

“Music to my ears,” he answered while barely being able to stifle a yawn.

This was the closest Mingi could get to a fairy tale moment with you, and he could not be happier. A grin fought its way to the surface, until it practically hurt his cheeks, and he pressed you to his chest, just so that you would not see it. But it did not take someone to be especially hyper-observant to sense his glee, capable of melting the snow in the harshest winter. Perhaps it was foolish of him to admit this, but nothing felt more right. How your body melded into his, perfectly unified. How your heart beat at a gentle pace, in time with his, and how your steady breathing tickled his skin - a constant reminder of your electrifying proximity.

“Sleepy?”

“Mmm… a bit.”

“Maybe a change of…” you glanced at the couch, “location would do you some good?” detangling yourself, the suggestion was made with a simple turn of the head, which Mingi agreed to with a curt nod, and a removal of his glasses.

Though it was his apartment and technically you were the guest, he was the one following you, like always. Shying away from your gaze as he rapidly changed into sweatpants and a tee that were other than those he had worn during his midnight expedition to retrieve you from the club, making you giggle and cover your eyes with a dramatic swoop of the hand, he was back at your mercy in these four walls. Playing with fire, he lied down on the bed next to you, counting to steady himself. Glasses left on the bedside table, he stared at the soft blur of the ceiling, admiring how soft the light of the earliest dawn looked without the myriad of details that otherwise occupied the material it fell upon. Mingi debated with himself whether what he was allowing was appropriate, and whether it would inevitably lead to what he had been secretly hoping for. He could not lie, not to himself at least - he still wanted you, and now, with the avenue towards the prospects of a relationship having been opened, the wishes were becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore. Not when you were right there beside him, obviously studying the contours of his face, tracing the gorgeous lines that its silhouette formed and thanking the heavens for having the ability to take in and memorise Mingi. 

Oddly enough, in the semi-darkness of the bedroom - a place that was supposed to be the most intimate and exposing, you felt confidence return to you like the gust of a reviving spring wind. With every inhale and exhale, the familiar strength regained its capability, and led you to place a hand on Mingi’s chest, and while still keeping up a coy act, to run a lone finger down its middle, stopping right at the abdomen. Muscles tensing under your touch, Mingi sighed. Clearly, sleeping was not on your agenda whether you wanted it or not. Your habits, perfected over years, were advising you to act, and do so now. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately for him, he shared the same desire.

“What’s up?” he mumbled, head rolling to the side to find you already looking right at him.

“You’re far.”

“We are literally on the same bed.”

“No, but you are far. You get me?” a tentative leg over his, hooking around and serving as a lever to pull you closer to him. It was too natural, how Mingi’s arm stretched out and let you cuddle into him, acting as a pillow.

“I suppose. What do you want to do about it?”

“This,” tracing along his jawline, you prompted him to turn. You were close, way too close for him to not hold his breath as you came into focus - the one person he could always see, even when you were not physically with him. 

Mingi resisted. As much as he was seeking the same contact, the tinge of regret for giving his heart up so easily was prominent, a scalding hot iron. It was too much - lying under the blanket of agitated stillness, pressure coiling at an astonishing speed as your eyes turned into the one universe he could care to exist in. Without realising it, he had turned towards you for a better angle, placing himself on your altar. Fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin under his ear, gently running through his blonde locks. Every brush of your hand against him was an unbearable fire, melting him into submission; nothing more than a servant in the sultry fog. It was impossible to answer how you were able to do this, and why Mingi was allowing you to, but just like everything else, it felt right, regardless of how dark the future could be. In what you had proclaimed to be a ‘mess’, he felt alive, human. For some, addiction was measured in degrees and in there being less and less memories as time went by - for him, it was in the syllables of your name, in the taste of your lips when he could not hold back any longer and closed the gap between you, sighing as the he could finally relive the sensation that had been haunting him every minute, be he asleep or awake.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, a bouquet of recollection and reminiscence as if you had been two souls torn apart for centuries. Mingi’s nose lightly brushed against your skin as he tilted his head to deepen the intimacy, his hands moving to hold you closer. The last time, each sense was charged with an undercurrent of carnal desire, and lust had revealed a palette of dark hues, while now, even with the rising intensity and Mingi’s hold drifting to find purchase on your hips, the scene was light. Instead of sacrificing yourselves to the night, you were defeating it, greeting your own dawn. It was an awe-inspiring hallucination, leaving you dazed and desiring more. Hooking your leg more tightly over Mingi’s thigh, you shuddered, the breathiest moan escaping you as an unexpected friction revealed your unwinding state, consumed by the man from whom you were done running. Breaking away to press your forehead against his and indulge in the shared oxygen, a hint of dizziness made you chuckle. Peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, only to return to the same position, eyelashes almost touching, the lack of space proving to be the ultimate comfort, you whispered:

“I want this forever,” meaning every word, at least when ‘forever’ meant ‘for now’. You did not know yourself, or the new self you wanted to craft, so you could not make any promises just yet. But this was good enough. It was honest and raw.

“Take me on a date first,” Mingi teased with a wink. Caressing his cheek, you kissed the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it. 

“What a precious princess,” you chuckled, leaning over to close the space once again, ignited by the beautiful sounds that were muted by you, a most delectable fruit.

Desire on the tongue, truth on the teeth, love staining the lips a deeper pink as you fell into Mingi, giving into his tug at your waist to hover above him. This, however, did not last long as he grew more impatient, pressing you against his body, wriggling upwards until he was half-seated on the bed, and you, on his thigh. Your initial instincts were telling you to move, but as he adjusted his seating once more, muscle brushing against your growing excitement, you quickly decided against it, instead settling on his leg, grinding into it to check for Mingi’s reaction. Judging by the way his hand snaked to the nape of your neck, fingers lost in your tresses as he could not get enough of you, this was a welcome change. He was responsive, in tune with you, allowing you to take the lead. Momentarily standing up on your knees, you backed up to take off the sweatpants you had been wearing, feeling the heat in your core rising to embrace you in a seductive haze.

With glazed over, darkened orbs Mingi watched you, each breath an adrenaline-filled shudder. Freed from the cotton confines, with only the fine material of your panties left to contain the building arousal, you cupped Mingi’s face to give him a deep kiss until you lost all air, whispering instructions only once you had your fill. Promptly, he was in the same state of undress, more so when you cautiously hooked the base of his t-shirt, longing to see the body that was so perfect with yours. When you wanted to mirror the action, his expression changed to that of a miniscule panic, almost instantly replaced by an endearing shyness and a bitten lower lip.

“Can you… keep the shirt on?”

“You like to see me in your clothes, Mingi?” You were comfortable saying his name in other settings, sure, but in the semi-darkness of his bedroom, it occurred to you just how vulnerable the act was, capturing another’s attention with the simple collection of characters, echoing from wall to wall and resonating in the listener’s ears. But if you were to be an improved version of yourself, someone who had real control as opposed to the farce you had been parading around with, you needed to at least make a little bit of an effort to be aware of Mingi, find him in your pleasure and make him your focus. You were too used to taking centre stage and pushing others away for it. 

“More than I’d like to admit,” voice husky, he groaned as your lips found his neck, retracing, not needing pointers to find the places that drove your newly established lover wild, “Ah… if you are o-okay with it-”

His hands, now back on your hips, gave you a timid squeeze, reaffirming the rapture which your present outfit threw him into. Mingi had assumed that you were at your most beautiful when those dresses designed to seduce adorned your curves, highlighting and accentuating what he swore was divinity, but nothing could have prepared him for this sight, and the effect that it had on him. Whether it was on purpose or not, but his name being uttered so teasingly as you seeked an outlet for your sensual frustration, while you were in his shirt, in his room, having slept in his bed, it all sent him into a frenzy. He wanted to mark you, make you his, hear you say everything you never could to him while he would bring you heaven and make you see stars. 

“More than okay, darling, I love it,” nibbling at the soft skin, you smirked as Mingi emitted a groan, hands squeezing your ass. This prompted you to continue, and you sat back down, desperate for stimulation that your covered clit against his thigh could offer. 

“Is this how you want me, doll?” the pet name sent a jolt through you and you let out a shaky breath, leaving yourself to be supported by an equally taken Mingi, whose growing bulge was now poking against your knee.

“Doll?”

“Only fair I call you something pretty, hm? Unless you want to…” he trailed off, recalling the roles that you had taken previously.

“I want to take it slow with you right now,” you kissed him, lazily moving your hips, the material getting more soaked with each glide, “will you let me?” when he did not immediately give an answer, you palmed at the prominent hardness, asking again just as Mingi let out an airy moan, chasing the contact, “will you let me take care of you?”

“Fu-ck, yes…”

“So good for me- ah!” with a yelp, you shuddered when Mingi’s hand dragged your panties to the side to get a better view of the slick, not caring for the glistening fluid staining his leg. With a few tentative rolls of his thumb over your clit, he decided that he should help you reach your high first, attracted to how you lost yourself in his touch.

“Want to use my thigh to get yourself off that badly?”

“N-no I am going to take c- fuck,” head lolling back, you could only focus on the accelerating fingers over your sensitive nub, teasing its very tip and coated in your precum, stopping spontaneously. You whined, earning yourself a furrowing of the brows and a glint of surprise in Mingi’s gaze.

“Thought you said no?”

It clicked in your head, and the tinge of anger rapidly dispelled, instead being replaced by a warm endearment. You ran a hand through his beautiful hair, planting a kiss on his cheek before answering:

“I don’t want to make you work too hard today.”

“I like to see you like this though…” he mumbled, chasing after another taste of your plush lips.

“How? Unwinding because of your hand? Your thigh? Do you like to make me feel good?” with a few nods, you let him continue by tapping his upper arm. As soon as he resumed the action, in time with your rocking, you let yourself go fully, thinking only of the man who was below you. Nothing, nor anyone else came to mind.

Mingi was observing you carefully, your moans turning to sweet music, "Yes, Mingi, just like that-" 

"You look so beautiful, doll, fucking yourself on me. Could you be," he paused his ministrations - a light tremble of muscle a telltale sign of your approaching climax, "...any more perfect?"

Praise shot into your heart and your core, an overwhelming electric shock. You perceived yourself guilty and undeserving of this worship, and yet could not bear to hear anything else from Mingi's lips - you were sure that it would be your demise. Arms thrown over his shoulders, you attempted to speed up your movements, the action proving a challenge due to the accumulating tension. Your head fell forwards, forehead against Mingi’s collarbone as he took to guiding you, hand carefully positioned on the small of your back while the other rolled up and down your aching clit, each touch closer and closer to sending you over the edge.

“Dar-ling I-”

“Are you close, Y/N?” Why did your name have to sound so sweet when he said it?

“Ah- y-yeah…” Mingi was craving for relief to the point of dizziness, grasping at you for the most minimal support. Precum coated the inner side of his underwear, member at full mast as he toyed with your sopping pussy.

“Come over me, doll, please, beautiful, show me what I can do to you,” the request was a fire, deliciously weak and exposing. You looked up at Mingi, disarmed by the kindness of his expression, and peppered a couple of kisses around his lips, too disoriented to find the original target.

With one final rock of the hips, and Mingi’s fingers curling into you and gliding between your folds, you collapsed into unfathomable bliss, a lewd moan resonating from you while the orgasm left you shaking in Mingi’s strong arms. He let you ride out your high by keeping your hips from fully bucking, instead setting a steadily decreasing pace and soothing you through the overstimulation from your continued contact with his leg. He nuzzled against your cheek, following the action with a reassuring:

“I got you,” pulled you into embracing the angel of your life.

The hints of a rising sun began to trickle into the room, just barely leaving a pattern on the carpet and transforming the light in the room into a pale lavender and pink. This was the earliest, and the latest, that you had ever been with anyone after your ritualistic ‘night out’, and courteously reminded you of the occurrences that brought you back to Mingi. Upon your descent from the decadent oblivion, embarrassment struck and you pressed yourself against his body, sighing in relief when he hugged you tight. His hardness was impossible to ignore, and a part of you felt terrible for not repaying the pleasure he had given you just yet, but judging by the way in which you could feel his fingers trace abstract shapes on your back, and after one glance to one side, and then to the other, how he kept himself immersed in his senses, concentrating on you, he could hold out for a little longer. 

“Mingi?”

“Mm?”

“You did make me feel good. Really, really good,” uncharacteristically meek, the sentence sounded almost like an announcement, making him chuckle, but the smile that melted across his features was genuine and pure. Loving.

“Happy to hear it. And I am happy that you are feeling like this, Y/N.”

“May I…?” a ghostly caress of his erection, a shaky breath, a playful, lop-sided grin with glossed over eyes.

“And here I was thinking that you like bossing people around, hm?”

“Would you rather I did?” touch turned grasp, a finger playing with the waistband of his boxers while your voice dropped into a dangerous tone, serpent-like, sultry.

“I like new things, I want to get to know you better, gorgeous.”

“Let’s do just that then, though… I’ll need a little,” having regained full function of your legs, you slipped from the position over his thigh to be on your knees between his legs, centred, “assistance. Talk to me, darling, what do you like?”

“I-” with a swift motion, you snaked your hand into his boxers, taking out his erect member and giving it a tentative stroke.

There were no thoughts which he could vocalise aside from hoping that you would never stop. Your thumb circled over his reddened tip, coating itself in the fluid. You barely moved your hand, continuing to give special attention only to the head of his stiffened cock, making Mingi try to wriggle to get more friction. With a push on his pubic bone, you freeze him.

“Now, don’t get too impatient, first I need these boxers off, okay? I’ll help,” you let go of his member, tugging at the material and following Mingi’s quick lift of his lower half, pulled them down and off, leaving the stunning man bare and ready to respond to your every move and command. 

You truly wanted to fall in love with him. Those glistening eyes that rolled back slightly just before he closed them, unfathomable bliss revealed only to you, were a paradise that you would not mind floating in forever. He had full trust in you, breathy moans freely falling from his lips as you started to stroke his cock, having added some of your own spit to his pre-cum for lubrication. His every detail was a heavenly design that you could not believe nature had crafted, from body to mind, and here he was, giving it up to you. You regarded the telltale sheen of sweat that began to form on his smooth skin, giving him an angelic appearance in the haze of the early morning. His hands were gripping the bed sheets, knuckles gradually turning paler as you sped up with each pump of his leaking cock. In a moment where you noticed him looking upwards at the ceiling, not registering you, you stopped to give the base a soft squeeze, having an even better idea in mind.

“Mingi?” The call instantly made him dart back to you unfocused but endearingly determined.

“How would you feel about me sucking your dick, hm?”

“H-huh?”

“Only if you want to, darling,” resuming the strokes, albeit at a lazier, dangerously slow speed and making sure to give attention to every vein, you had to practically had to hold yourself back from grinning due to the perplexion decorating Mingi’s face, blended seamlessly with a blazing lust. 

“Are you sure?”

“I can show you, and you decide, deal?”

“Fu-uck yes, deal ye-” answer forgotten in the garbled, divine mess of carnal satisfaction, Mingi watched as you lowered yourself to hover above his member, and gave it a few kitten licks before taking in his tip.

You rolled your tongue over the heat, relishing in Mingi’s taste, and pushed down further until you were midway, and hollowed out your cheeks in time to sense how he twitched at the dizzying warmth. While you were more familiar with a dominant role, particularly one where you prioritised your own pleasure and used others as a form of self-relief - not exactly the most responsible approach but no one had complained yet, but even then you were no stranger to this sensual act. You dragged your tongue against his large erection, spurred on by his groan when you bobbed your head a couple of times before slipping off to give Mingi an inquisitive glance.

“So, what do you say?”

“You are… amazing,”

“I take that as a, ‘yes please, Y/N, continue’?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then say it, darling, so I know,” you grazed a lone finger up his length, admiring just how sensitive it was, “and you can touch me, by the way, you were doing so well before what’s got you so shy now?” you chuckled when a hand that had previously been hovering in your vicinity finally found its place on the side of your face, timidly moving a few strands of hair that you had not noticed threatening to cover your vision. 

“Yes… please, Y/N, continue.”

“So precious.”

It did not take long for you to build him back up and higher again. You were addicted to how he writhed under you but was still careful to not grab onto your locks, instead choosing to repeatedly run his digits through and rest them while you masterfully took him in your mouth. A wanton symphony filled the room, blending every sigh and the sloppy collision of his tip against the back of your throat into a direct stimulation. Your core was growing needy, so much so that with one finger you began to roll over your sensitive clit, echoes of the explosive orgasm still shooting through your nerves but not nearly enough to satiate your evolved hunger.

“I’m going to-”

He pawed at you, while an oncoming wave was about to capture him whole. Mingi’s breathing was ragged and irregular and his head fell back while he struggled to distinguish reality from dreaming in the wake of his crumbling state. Just like he had done in your last encounter, the second before he came stirred in him a final aggression, a desire to prove to himself that he retained some form of power, even though all the signs pointed to the opposite. At least now, you were fully prepared. Throat relaxed and eyes fluttering shut, you let yourself be pushed down onto the throbbing cock with a rough hand, and welcomed the ropes of hot, white cum when they spurted out to coat your mouth, rivulets dripping down your throat and prompting you to swallow. The light tang was suddenly your favourite flavour, and you resumed your pumping, milking Mingi of all his nectar with a greedy forcefulness. He tasted like he was completely yours.

He hit the headboard as he collapsed from the exertion, astonished at how you licked your lips, showing off the emptiness of your mouth as you had swallowed his load. Your cunt ached for more, and you drifted towards Mingi until your chest was pressed against his, ensuring he recalled the fact that you were still wearing his shirt. Not caring for the remnants of his cum on the corners of your mouth, he searched for your lips, sealing them with a long kiss. You used this as an opportunity to lower yourself just enough to have your folds glide over his only just softening member, and deepened the kiss to drown out his gasp. You needed him, and needed him now. Not caring for recovery times, you began to fist his dick roughly, making him tremble underneath you and bite down on his lip.

“Come on, precious, won’t you give me another?”

“A-ah I- please I-”

“What was that?” you separated yourself from him, a smirk dancing on your lips when you sensed a familiar rush racing under skin from the stimulation, and leaned to the side to open the bedside drawer, successfully fishing out a condom. 

“I-”

“Speak up, sweetheart, I am not sure what you’re saying,” it was so easy to tease him, play with his mind, and you liked it too much. Reduced to babble, he shut himself off from further attempts to communicate, submitting to your determination to work him until he was hard again.

When you ceased to pump him and let go, his cock slapped against his skin, leaving behind traces of prior climax and clear promise of another. You removed the condom from the packaging and carefully unrolled it, suddenly struck by how practised this felt with Mingi, as if you knew each other’s bodies better than your own. You would be lying if you were to say you did not have him memorised.

Positioning his tip at your entrance, you sighed and slid him between your folds. One rock of the hips, another, and the condom was coated in your slick, and you began to take the member in, inch by inch into your fluttering heat, mouth ajar as you felt him grazing against your begging walls, the ribbed detail of the protection only adding to the sensation. Soon enough, he was fully sheathed inside your fluttering hole, and was struggling to hold himself back from bucking his hips upwards. One leg on either side of him, you were straddling his lap, the position reminiscent of a longing embrace, intimate, personal. The centre of your attention were the contortions of his face and the arms that loosely wrapped around your torso.

If it was possible to be any closer, then most certainly Mingi achieved it when he pulled you into him, holding you tight. The movement dragged your pussy over his cock, almost making it slip out until he settled you back down again, hissing when skin slapped against skin. Not surprised by, but still not expecting the enticing demonstration of strength, you nudged Mingi’s cheek with your own, whispering words of praise in his ear:

“Do you want to guide me?”

“Sorry Y/N, I couldn’t help it… your pussy feels so good…”

“I said I want to take care of you, Mingi, tell me what you want.”

“I… I do want to guide you, if you let me.”

“Show me what you can do, darling.”

You did not need to say it twice as he grabbed your hips to adjust your seating, and took to finding a steady and breath-taking rhythm, with the two of you moving as one. Mingi left one peck, another on your shoulder when you yelped from a particularly deep pound of his cock into you, grazing your g-spot and knocking you off kilter. 

“Yes, yes, Mingi-”

“So pretty, for me?” he cut you off while he quickened his pace, starting to move up with more vigour when you found balance by gripping onto the headboard.

“For-” you stopped, reassessing the sentence. Even in the comfort of his show of power, you were hesitant to give up. Nothing forced you to continue however, as Mingi angled his thrusts to hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making your legs tremble and pussy clench around him. The heat was becoming unbearable, and the knot in your stomach was driving you mad, “Fuck, Mingi, faster!”

Your words were followed by a few violent thrusts, before Mingi tapped your thigh and growled for you to shift your leg so that you could turn and lie down on your side. You read his wishes, cautiously shifting until your back was flush against his chest. Remaining close so that his length remained in your sopping cunt, you shifted to sink into the crumpled sheets, fixated on Mingi, who was entirely in his own world, concentrated on performance and pleasure. He lifted your other leg by hooking it with his arm and, once settled, began to thrust with a totally new vigour. 

His grunts mixed with your high-pitched whines, and his pistoning caused your fluids to spill relentlessly around his cock, soaking the sheets. Mingi was in overdrive; he wanted more, needed more and despite already having already come one for you, he was ready to do it again. The pain of having his cock abused and overstimulated had subsided, instead transforming into a delightful sensitivity to the warmth of your walls, and how they started to pulsate. You unleashed a broken moan as your high accumulated and destroyed you, giving you up to Mingi entirely. Sensing the shift, he persisted, letting out his own guttural groan when the pounding into your hole had turned into pure ecstasy and brought him to his own orgasm. Cock twitching as it spilled out more of his release into the condom, the heat leaving you dizzy, you followed his change of position back into sitting, jaw slackened, vision unfocused.

Mingi kept you against him, encouraged you to say his name again while you warmed him, to which you instantly obliged - it felt too natural, meant to be. He scissored your folds with his fingers, after which he moved up to tease your pulsing and erect clit, middle finger moving over it at an astonishingly fast pace. You practically clawed at Mingi, sure that you were about to break, gasps stuck in your throat but he would not budge, holding you down until a tidal wave crashed into you, and you mewled through another climax, this time a clear liquid spilling from you and further ruining the cotton below. A wreck, you leaned back on him, unable to keep yourself up any longer from the shaking of your legs to the blankness of your mind. 

He kissed you back to full consciousness, having tilted your head so he could capture your lips again and again, each contact more gentle than the one prior. After pulling out his cock and discarding the condom, his full attention was on you. Mingi caressed your face, snaked his hands under the t-shirt to feel your skin, lowered you onto the bed and slid another pillow so that you remained in a more or less upright position.

“You okay?” he tried, worry showing itself on his features when you did not respond instantly.

“I love,” he stilled, eyes widening, “...this. I love this, Mingi,” nevertheless, he beamed, lips interlocking for what had to be the thousandth time. Not sure how to respond, he simply lied down next to you, watching as your inhales and exhales grew more level, deeper, and awareness of surroundings returned.

“We… we really should clean up, yeah?”

“Definitely changing the bedsheets later,” Mingi pointed at what was running the risk of being a stain of your release. Blush rose on your cheeks as you turned away, mumbling:

“Good point.”

“Hey, hey, it was worth it. You looked beautiful,” he tried to move you back, but you only crossed your arms, joking.

“You were literally behind me, Mingi.”

“Beautiful from all angles, doll,” you sharply turned, giving him a glare before suppressing the widest grin.

“So cheesy,”

“Do you like it?”

“Unfortunately, a little too much.” you flicked his nose with your own, the safety and adoration oozing from Mingi lulling you. The room glowed a stunning shade of pink, with hints of orange as you swam in his stunning dark irises.

“Well I have a lot more where that came from.”

“Can’t wait to hear it. Now, uh… shower?”

It was Saturday. And most definitely, it was not the dead of night. Late morning light washed over your skin as you sat upright on Mingi’s bed, the same one you had run from not too long ago. Only this time, the arm lazily thrown over your stomach was impossible to move, and the gaze of the man with his head perched on his other hand was impossible to ignore. It was evident that he was waiting for your next move, purposefully silent. Aware. Even though you had made your own version of a confession, you knew that you had a long way to go if you wanted Mingi to wholeheartedly trust you, and thus you would be able to hold and protect his love in your own slowly healing heart. 

For the first time, you were looking beyond the character you had created for yourself, feeling for the essence of who you had once been far too long ago, thawing the self-protective frost you had accumulated as your last resort.  Attempting to stay still, you focused on how your breathing repeatedly lifted and lowered his arm that was still on your body. Too heavy, too intimate, too real for you to handle. According to the logic that you were trying to shed for a full reawakening, you had gotten what you wanted, right? Then why was it that you could not stand up and leave, having used him again, mercilessly and coldly? Why were you stuck? Resistance was futile. Questions turning into a barrage of artillery against your clouded mind were agonising, and amidst the colossal pause a shudder passed over your body. Mingi’s t-shirt that he had let you borrow, hanging loosely over you was suddenly not enough. Feeling bare, you grasped at the bedsheets, anything, the cold settling on your skin like fresh snow, coating you and leaving you gasping. A trembling of the lips, a breath suspended in the lungs, blooming into an ache until tears welled up in your eyes, glistening raindrops. Patterns felt like strangers as you thought of the many days that you had tried to not live through, instead succumbing to impulse and carnality, and the foreign bliss of being in the now was so acute it sent shocks through your system. A white light, a white lily, a white dove cradled in your hands. You felt Mingi’s hand pressing into your side as he moved a little closer. You could hear him, his breath, his heartbeat, feel the heat emanating from his body, and every touch imprinted on your skin once again. Celestial blessings that soothed you like no one ever could. Biting on your lower lip, you lowered your head to fight the last of yourself. Shedding your beliefs and desires, you were left bare, and you were terrified. A white chasm into which you kept on falling, and the only thing you could hear was Mingi’s voice as he sat up to pull you into an embrace, his strong arms lifting you from your position and into his lap. Heart to heart, you melted into the feeling, inhaling him, his affection that was seeking you out in the panic. A hand lulling you, slowly patting your back as your body shook with every suppressed sob. As he mumbled your name against your ear, calling out for you, the previously contained tears sprung out, travelling down your cheeks, but Mingi could not care less, only hugging you tighter until even in your loss, you could feel that he was there, and he was not planning to leave.

Once you calmed down, he continued to hold you, mumbling abstract thoughts that occurred to him, unrelated to anything that had you rolling up the walls like a penny. You knew it was on purpose - a delightful distraction crafted by psychological mastery, getting you to nod along to his plans for ‘the latest breakfast of all time’, listening to his mention of some park or square nearby, switching you off from the ghosts of a turbulent circuit that you were too used to existing in. You did not mind the chatter, the vibrations emanating across and from his chest as he spoke having turned into the most soothing sensation. 

“...a date.”

“Huh?” only having registered the last part of the sentence, you jolted out of your empty musings.

“Since we are now dating, we will go on a date.”

“Makes sense.. But… how?” he chuckled breathlessly, detangling himself a little, just to look at you.

“How? Are you asking how people go on dates?”

“I guess…”

“Well then I’ll have to show you.”

As you lost yourself in another kiss, a thought, or more accurately, a small yet persistent wish buried itself in your mind. With all your being, you hoped that on this date, in every step towards new tomorrows, it would be only you and Mingi, and the metaphorical doors would remain shut, isolating and erasing your past. After all, you did not want to use him. 

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[jungle-angel]

A King's Home Is His Castle (Admiral!Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob have worked so hard to build lives for yourselves and for your family and despite what others say, home will always be a special place for you, Bob and your little ones.

Warnings: Misogynistic remarks from a Naval officer, language, Admiral Bob popping off and pulling rank etc.

Tagging: @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia @floralfloyd and any other mutuals who have kept me going since day one. Guys, this is for you

Bob couldn't really stand having to go to half of these Navy functions, especially now since the weather was shitty and everyone was coming down with seasonal illnesses. Already he could feel the onset of it, the scratchiness in his throat, the body aches and pains, the swollen nodes in his neck and the achy wetness that had settled in his chest.

The last place Bob had wanted to be was at the Seaport Hotel, his clammy skin pricking with goosebumps under his Navy dress blacks as the snow had begun to fall. In he went, heading to the ballroom where all the other Navymen and women had gathered to celebrate Cyclone's birthday. Good God he felt terrible, just plain sick and terrible.

"Admiral Floyd!" boomed a gravely, deep voice. "Good to see you."

"Admiral Hauser," Bob greeted, shaking his hand. "Likewise."

"How's the family?"

"Never better," Bob said with a smile. "(Y/N) and I are excited, we've got a new little one due in a month."

"Good on ya kid," Admiral Hauser replied. "I'll see if I can bring back a case of cigars from Southeast Asia when my carrier crew ships out for duty."

"Oh that's right," Bob said, suddenly remembering. "You're training with the Royal Thai Navy SEALS aren't you?"

"None other," Admiral Hauser chuckled. "Admiral Nataya said he wants his units in shape for duty and that's what we're gonna do."

Bob and Admiral Hauser shared a few good laughs, but it couldn't do much to suppress the annoying tickle in his throat.

"Jeez Bob, you look like hell," Jake remarked.

"I feel like it," Bob answered, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I think Auggie caught something at school and brought it home."

"Uh oh, speaking of diseases," Jake muttered under his breath. "Here comes one right now."

"Oh God no," Bob whispered.

Sure enough it was, Admiral Terrance Hamilton, the bane of the unit's existence. Bob couldn't stand the prick for the life of him let alone work with him. The shithead had already gone completely grey, the results of self-induced stress and problems that had been of his own creation. A bore to the enth degree, Admiral Hamilton talked excessively of finance, a hobby of his that seemed to overtake his mind, a man unable to understand the outside interests of others. He had profusely made fun of Bob for enjoying books that weren't about hard, cut and dry facts and couldn't stand the fact that Bob and the other Daggers had chosen to send their children to a school where creativity and imagination were the prime focus of the curriculum. Hell, Hamilton had even gone so far as to make lewd and rather unseemly jokes about (Y/N) Floyd, Bob's beloved wife and the mother of his children. Bob could practically smell the arrogance radiating off the man as he approached, the self-righteous gleam in his eyes and the stiffness of his perfectly pressed Navy dress blacks.

"Admiral Floyd," Hamilton greeted, shaking Bob's hand.

"Admiral Hamilton," Bob said with a rather curt politeness. "How are you?"

Hamilton replied with only a scoffing chuckle. "How do you think I'm doing?" he questioned. "I've been dealing with a passive aggressive woman who can't seem to wrap her head around what's going on lately."

Bob only nodded and gave him a polite smile. He could feel the cold negativity creeping in under his skin. "Sorry to hear that," was all Bob said.

"Ah, there's nothing that can be done," Hamilton answered with a wave of his hand. "How about the wife?"

"We're uh.....we're getting ready for a new baby in the family," Bob told him. "This is our fourth."

"Hah!" Hamilton laughed. "Must be doing something right if you can keep her full of you."

Bob and Jake cast a glance at each other, scrunching their eyebrows together. "I beg your pardon sir?" Bob asked.

"Can't keep her off you huh?" Hamilton said with a chuckle. "Sweet and demure on the outside but a fiend in the bedroom?"

"Sir I'm sorry but I don't....."

"It's a joke," Hamilton cut in.

"Doesn't seem like a joke to me," Jake said rather coldly.

"Oh c'mon Seresin," Hamilton chuckled. "Laugh a little bit. That's not the worst you've heard I'm sure."

Bob could feel the heat filling his face and something coiling in his chest. The audacity of this man.....the pure, sheer audacity to make those remarks and in public of all places!

"So I hear the boy's in school huh?" Hamilton enquired.

"Yes," Bob answered, swirling the amber whiskey and half melted ice cubes in his glass. "Just started the kindergarten program at the Waldorf school near where we live. The rest of the squad's kids are in his class as well."

"One of those hippie schools I presume," Hamilton said, scoffing a little. "If I had kids I wouldn't pay to have them waste their education on art and music."

Oh now he was getting mad. Bob knew that there was nothing worse in the world than feeling sick and angry all at once. He couldn't tell if it was heat from his sore throat or from the anger that boiled in his blood, but something was about to boil over.

"You said your on what? Your fourth kid too?"

"Yes."

"Jeez," Hamilton sniffed. "I'd have no patience for that, a bunch of kids running around the house screaming, talking back and being undisciplined. And let me guess, your little wifey wants a whole baseball team?"

That was it......that was officially the straw that had broken the camel's back. Jake saw a flash in Bob's eyes as Bob calmly took a sip of his whiskey, never once breaking eye contact with the slimy little twerp.

"Let me tell you something Admiral Hamilton.....Sir," Bob said, sharply emphasizing the last word. "Do you have any idea what family actually means or are you just that blind and ignorant?"

"Sorry?"

"You have no idea what (y/n) and I have been through in our eight years of marriage so far," Bob said icily. "You don't have a clue what we've both given up to be together and to build the lives we have now. In fact I think you might be a little bit jealous."

"Jealous?" Hamilton questioned.

"Yes, jealous," Bob answered sharply. "Because you walked all over the people who have tried to help you, the very same people you deemed to be out to get you because you always thought you were in the right about everything."

"Admiral Floyd, I....I never...." Hamilton chuckled nervously.

"And another thing too," Bob interrupted. "You've always been jealous of what everybody else has. I've heard you, day after day complain about people that are married, have kids or have this or that. Don't think I haven't heard you complain about Lieutenant Avery and her wife celebrating fifteen years together or Lieutenant Parker and his husband finally adopting a kid they've been fighting for, for the last year and a half or even Admiral Seresin and his wife, Rachel, celebrating their own wedding anniversary."

Admiral Hamilton simply froze, a dead look in his eyes and unable to speak.

"One more thing," Bob said, the heated hardness in his tone becoming obvious. "If I ever and I mean ever.......catch you making unseemly remarks about my wife or any of the other Navy wives every again, I'll make sure that your Navy career is ruined and that your reputation has a huge yellow stain. Hell, that might even be a good nickname for you, now that I think about it. How do you like that Admiral Seresin?

"I'm starting to think that's not such a bad idea," Jake said with a huge, shit-eating grin crawling across his face. "Old Yellow-Stain....it's got a nice ring to it."

He could see that Hamilton was fuming, Bob having hit him right where it hurt the most.

"You think you're better than everybody else don't you?" Hamilton fumed. "If it's one think I can't stand it's privleged little pricks who think they're better than everybody else."

"So you?" Bob questioned, raising his eyebrows.

Hamilton's face began to turn bright red.

"Sorry Admiral," Bob said, his cheeky, lopsided grin forming on his face. "But the only person you're hurting is yourself."

Oh could he feel the anger beginning to radiate from the insulted Admiral, his eyes were like ice, his eyebrows turned down in a scowl that would have a brand new seaman running scared.

"So might I propose a toast," Bob said. "To Admiral Hamilton, the greatest insult to the Navy since Admiral Richmond K. Turner."

It was a split second before Bob flung the remaining whiskey in his glass into Hamilton's face, the slimy gimp's jaw hanging open in shock as the amber liquid ran down his face and dripped onto his dress uniform. Admiral Hamilton huffed and stormed off, leaving the ballroom and the two other higher ranking Admirals in his wake.

"Well that went over like a fart during Christmas Mass," Jake laughed.

Bob laughed but it was interrupted by a bone cracking wet cough.

"Alright," Jake said. "What do you say we stay for the cutting of the cake and then go home?"

Bob grimaced and nodded, trying to take in a breath. They stayed just a little while longer before at last, they were able to jump in Jake's truck and head for home.

The snow was coming down a little bit harder, the plows just having gone by and the heat blasting as music played from Jake's phone in the cupholder.

"Nice pop-off by the way," Jake chuckled.

"That actually felt really good," Bob laughed.

"You got nasty though! I'm proud!" Jake exclaimed.

They laughed the whole way home until Jake pulled in the driveway, the two huge Victorian homes side by side in what was known as "Admiral's Village". Bob gathered his cap and walked along the sidewalk, up the path and onto the front porch where he lived with you and your children. Much to his surprise, the lights were still on inside which meant that the babies would still be awake, more so if school was called off the next day.

He opened the door and headed inside, the house warm and cozy and the smell of a fresh dinner wafting from the kitchen. The scritching of nails on the hardwood floor signaled the arrival of the family dogs, Tank, Bandit and the two newest additions to your family, a little black Scottish terrier that Auggie had named Jock, and a little Pekingese puppy you and Bob had named Dolly after she had been found outside the Dolly Madison house in DC. She was still so tiny, only half the size of Jock and dwarfed in comparison to the others.

Bob gave them all the scritches they could possibly ask for, scooping Dolly up off her stubby little legs and into the curve of his elbow before he made his way into the kitchen.

There you were, just having seated Auggie, Patrick and Diedre at the table, the smell of a warm, freshly roasted chicken out of the oven and resting in the pan on the stove while the smell of your homemade cinnamon spice cake cooling on the counter.

"DADDY!!!!!!" The babies chirped as they practically jumped off their seats at the table.

"Come give me hugs babies!" Bob laughed as Dolly sprang to the floor, leaving him to throw his arms around your children and litter their cheeks with kisses.

"Baba! Baba I want kissy!" Diedre demanded as she tried to push past her brothers.

"C'mere princess," Bob chuckled, scooping her up off her feet and pressing a big, wet kiss to her cheek which made her giggle.

Bob looked over at you in your burgundy colored shawl sweater, He could almost feel the hot flush himself, though it might have been due to the burning clump of mucous in his throat more than anything else.

"There's my handsome king of the castle," you teased as you took each other in your arms.

Bob pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before nuzzling your cheeks. "Sorry sweet cheeks," he said. "I think I'm getting sick."

"I'll say," you remarked, holding the back of your hand to his forehead. "You're warmer than usual. Auggie must've brought something home from school."

"Sorry if I get you sick sweetheart," he apologized.

"Oh Bob c'mon," you assured him. "I teach at that same school and my first graders this year still don't know how to cover their mouths."

Bob laughed a little before the coughing caught him again. You called the babies back into the kitchen to come and get their plates, plating everyone's dinners before you, Bob and the little ones were all seated in the dining room. Once grace was said, the five of you dug right in and went back and forth about how the day and evening's events had gone.

"How was the birthday celebration for Cyclone?" you asked him.

"Well," Bob said before finishing the last bite of asparagus. "Funny you should ask that."

He explained every little bit about what had happened, even the parts that he knew might upset you. Yet despite the awful remarks made by one of the naval commanders, you remained level headed and calm.

"You watch," you chuckled. "He'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time and Hamilton's Navy career will be over."

Once dinner was eaten, you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, cleaning up and putting away the leftovers for the next day while Bob lit a fire in the living room fireplace. He went away upstairs to switch into something more comfortable, the flannel pjs you had gotten him for Christmas the year before.

You made him a hot green tea, slipping in one of your herb packets for seasonal illnesses and let it steep before handing it off to him. "Mommy! Mommy!" Auggie chirped, bouncing with excitement as he tried to hand you one of the books off the shelf. "Can we read a story?"

"Go right by the fireplace and we'll read a story before bed ok?" you told him. "I've gotta get Daddy settled first."

Auggie giggled and ran off to get nice and warm by the fireplace, all three of the kids having just slipped into their pjs and dragging a blanket and their favorite stuffie down from their bedrooms.

“Chivalry!---why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection---the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant ---Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.” You read.

You, Bob and the babies were completely engrossed in Ivanhoe, the strange and wonderful tale of a Saxon knight and his adventures during the reign of Richard The Lionheart. He loved the way you read, your voice comforting and soft, like the cozy wool throw blanket he had wrapped himself in. Bob didn't care what anyone said. He loved nights like this, when you and him would gather around the fire with the babies to read to them before bed, losing yourselves in the adventures, fantasy and fun of it all.

It wasn't long before the babies had all fallen asleep with Bob carrying them upstairs, one at a time and not wanting you to hurt yourself since his sister had insisted on no heavy lifting at all. Once they were all asleep, it was just you and him, the two of you on the comfy old sofa in the living room, warming yourselves by the fire and his big, gentle hand rubbing soft circles on your obvious bump.

"Jeez (y/n) he's going nuts," Bob chuckled, feeling the tiny little feet kicking against his palm.

"He knows it's you," you hummed happily, a lazy smile worn on your face as you leaned against Bob and relaxed into his touch.

Bob bent a little lower and pressed a loving kiss to your bump. "I love you my precious boy," he whispered. "You, your momma and your brothers and sister mean everything to me."

You both snuggled close together, letting the troubles of the day run off like rain on a roof. The snow kept falling hard outside, but the warmth and coziness of your home enveloping the two of you fully as you and your husband fell asleep with the fire crackling away through the night. When you woke up the next morning, greeted by the look of pure love on Bob's face, you were both grateful beyond words for each other and the life you had built.

[uravitypng]

𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞

pairing: atsumu miya x chubby reader

word count: 1.2k

contents: somno, dubcon (reader is asleep), unprotected sex, praise, needy atsumu, he's just absolutely smitten with you - minors do not interact !! this is under a cut because it's longer than 1k asdfghj (that was not intended originally)

atsumu wakes up in the morning before you wake up and he's hard. it's a natural body function plus with your soft body wrapped around him who can blame him. atsumu blinks out the sleep in his eyes as he squeezes your body and brings you closer. these mornings are the perfect mornings for him, where he gets to watch you sleep and be close to you without you trying to hide away and get shy. he loves your cute face when you tell him off for looking at you to long but right now he gets to feast his eyes onto every single part of you.

atsumu brushes his thumb across your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as his thumb lingers on your lips. he can't help but smile as your body sinks more into his, seeking his body out and finding comfort in him even when you're asleep. this is meant to be just an innocent act but he can't help himself as he slowly pushes his thumb into your mouth, a groan filling the air as you enclose your mouth around him. his dick twitches as he feels your wet and warm mouth and he groans again as he decides he wants to have some fun.

he pulls his thumb out of your lips entranced by the string of saliva between your two bodies connecting. his other hand pushes up your tshirt, his tshirt, as he takes one of your breasts and plays with you. his thumb gently strokes your breasts, barely putting enough pressure and not touching you where you needed to be touched. he takes some amount of pity on you and pinches your nipple softly, making them pebble and shine with your own saliva. atsumu smirks as he grazes both your nipples making your breathing heavy.

he gets more greedy as he runs his hands as over your body, holding your plush stomach and kneading your thick hips. "fuck, yer so pretty sweetheart," atsumu whispers in your ear. he grinds his hips slowly, causing you to push back to him trying to get him to move more. atsumu grips hold of your hips making sure you don’t move in your sleep again and carries on gyrating, breathing heavily behind you. he can’t hold back anymore, he’s addicted to your body, your smell, the way you feel, you. he just needs to be in you. he can't hold himself back as he pulls off his minimal clothes he slept in slowly as not to wake you up.

he knows for a fact that you only wear one of his shirts to bed, you say they feel comfortable.

however, the first time atsumu asked you to wear some of his clothes you felt nervous and insecure, you knew that he loved you but you're bigger than him and you thought his clothes wouldn't fit the way he expected it to, it wouldn't drown you and make you look small, atsumu kept giving you those pleading eyes and you decided you would try it, just for him. you tried on one of his tshirts and refused to look in the mirror knowing you'd change your mind and take it off, you wanted to make atsumu happy. you both knew that even if you decided you didn't want to try it on he'd understand and still be happy because he's with you but you've never been one to go back on what you said so you refused to look at your reflection and find atsumu and stand in front of him. looking down, staring at the floor and twiddling your fingers you waited until you heard your boyfriends reaction.

"holy fuck," you turned you head up to see him as he tripped over the couch in his way to get closer to you, he caught himself but you couldn't help but smile, you were glad you tried on tshirt. "shit, holy fuckin' shit, only wear my clothes from now on, 'kay? ya look so fuckin' good sweetheart." you giggled as you felt his hands grab hold of your hips.

"don't i look a bit-" atsumu cut you off with a kiss grinning at you wildly, his pupils dilated and eyelids heavy.

"''m not gonna let anyone be mean to my girlfriend, not even herself." you giggled as atsumu unapologetically kept his eyes on your body. "god, ya look so hot, yer so beautiful. it clings to ya in all the right places sweetheart. fuck. i wanna fuck ya right now, can i? can i sweetheart? need ya s' bad."

after that day you were more comfortable wearing his clothes knowing how much he liked them on you and you only ever wear his clothes around the house now. they really were comfortable and they grew on you as atsumu always did assure you how hot you looked in them. so it really was beneficial right now as atsumu knew that there was now no barrier separating you both after he took off his clothes as he gently starts lifting and bending your knee. gingerly he pushes himself into you, making sure he doesn't hurt you. groaning for the third time tonight he presses even closer to you, trying to soak up more of your body heat and your soft body.

you start waking up and mumbling at the movement. "sshhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep f'r me, i've got ya, get some rest," he says while stroking your hair. you drift back off to sleep, comfortable in atsumu's arms as he gently thrusts in and out of you. you start making little pretty noises in your sleep and atsumu just needs to hear more. he kisses down your neck and soft jaw, anywhere that isn't covered by clothes he's got his mouth on, placing hot kisses all over you. he holds onto your sides and massages your breasts, teasing your nipples making you moan in your sleep causing him to smirk, he can't help himself to do it more.

he places one hand on your pudgy stomach as he watches your body softly jiggle in time with his movements as your body rolls are squished closer together as he bends your knee higher up to see your pretty pussy shallow his cock. he can't help but salivate at the sight. his thrusts get more deliberate as he gets closer to his climax, he grips your love handles and moves quicker, still trying to be considerate at not waking you up. he hears you mumble tsumu in your sleep and that pushes him over the edge, burying his cock into you as far as he can, spilling into you. he desperately needs to always feel your pretty plush body and right now is no different as he smiles at you as he closes his eyes, bringing you even closer to him and snuggling up together as he goes back to sleep for another couple of hours still inside of you.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

cute

pair: tom!Peter Parker x reader

summery: Peter tries to ask y/n(she/her) out but he gets all flustered and shy and stumbles in words a lot but she thinks it's cute

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Peter Parker was not nervous. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he wiped his clammy hands on his jeans for the hundredth time. It was just Y/N. Y/N, who he’d known for years. Y/N, who had the best laugh and always knew when he needed a little extra help in math. Y/N, who was sitting right in front of him, completely unaware that Peter’s heart was doing somersaults.

He could totally do this. He had to do this. After all, it wasn’t like he could keep accidentally spilling his feelings during every awkward conversation they had. She glanced up from her notebook, her lips curling into a soft smile as she caught him staring. “Hey, you good, Peter?”

“Y-yeah!” he stammered, his voice coming out a little too high. “Totally! Why wouldn’t I be good? I’m great, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly, amusement flickering across her face. She had that effect on him — making him feel both comfortable and utterly flustered at the same time.

Peter bit his lip, silently urging his brain to function. It wasn’t like he was trying to ask her to solve a quantum physics equation. All he needed to do was ask her out. Simple. Easy. Just six words: “Do you want to go out?”

But of course, nothing with Peter Parker was ever that simple.

“So, um, Y/N,” he began, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I was thinking... or, well, not thinking — I mean, I do think. A lot, actually. But, uh, I’ve been, you know, noticing things. Like, um, we’ve been friends for a long time, right? And, uh, I was wondering if— if maybe, like, sometime if you’re not too busy, or, um, even if you are busy, I mean, I’d understand if you are — I mean, you’re always busy, not that it’s a bad thing! You’re just really... uh... organized? No, that’s not the word…”

Y/N blinked, watching him with that same gentle smile, patiently waiting for him to continue. Peter felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

“But what I’m trying to say is,” he inhaled sharply, his heart hammering in his chest, “would you— do you want— would you maybe want to, like, do something? With me? Together? As in... not as friends... I mean, we can still be friends, obviously! I just... like, more than friends?”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at his own stumbling. This was going horribly. Why couldn’t he just speak like a normal human being?

When he finally dared to open his eyes, Y/N’s expression hadn’t changed. She was still smiling, her gaze warm and kind, but there was something else there too. Something soft and almost... endeared?

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Was she laughing at him?

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “That was a mess. I’ll just—”

“Peter,” Y/N interrupted gently.

He froze, his hands still half-covering his face as he peeked at her through his fingers. “Y-yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice, though her eyes were filled with nothing but kindness.

Peter felt his entire face flush. “Y-yes?”

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly, biting back a laugh. “And you want me to say yes, right?”

He nodded furiously, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious.

“Well...” Y/N paused, dragging out the silence just enough to make his heart race even more. “In that case, yes. I’d love to.”

Peter blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with her words. “Wait... really?”

She laughed softly, reaching out to gently nudge his shoulder. “Yes, really. I think it’d be fun. You know, us... together. Not as just friends.”

For a moment, Peter could only stare at her, his mind trying to process the fact that she had just said yes. She said yes. She wanted to go out with him. His heart was doing backflips again, but this time, it felt more like excitement than nervousness.

“I— Wow, okay!” he blurted out, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face. “I mean, that’s awesome. Really awesome. I didn’t mess it up?”

Y/N shook her head, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. “You didn’t mess anything up, Peter. You’re kinda cute when you get all flustered.”

His heart just about exploded at that, and he quickly glanced away, trying — and failing — to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. “R-really?”

She nodded, biting her lip as if she was holding back more teasing remarks. “Yep. But next time, you can just ask, you know? No need for the whole word jumble.”

“I’ll remember that,” Peter mumbled, still grinning like an idiot.

As they sat there, with the comfortable silence settling between them, Peter couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He didn’t know how he’d managed to pull this off, but somehow, he had. And when he finally worked up the courage to glance back at her, Y/N was still smiling at him like she knew something he didn’t — like maybe, just maybe, she’d felt the same way all along.

This was going to be the start of something amazing. He just knew it.

[ihatedtoadmit]

When life keeps kicking you down

pairing: OT8 x gn! reader (platonic or romantic, could be either)

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: you get bad news, use of petnames (baby, yeobo, etc.), i am biased and it shows

word count: ~1.8k

summary: Somehow life thinks giving you and your family two horrendous news on the same day is fun and fine, something you wholeheartedly disagree with.

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All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

The room was silent, something you had grown used to, having visited the extremely busy idols’ dorms frequently enough to not be surprised by now. Nothing really interested you on the TV; the dramas you usually binge-watched were replays of old episodes you’d already seen several times, and the documentaries that usually interested you just weren’t hitting the spot for some reason.

So you sat on their spacious sofa, well, more like laid on it, your back much more happy that way, and simply scrolled on your phone. A few short videos here -after having watched all recent videos of the content creators you subscribed to-, a few minutes of scrolling on your news feeds on several apps there.

The flow of time kept slipping from your grasp without your notice, as if you were trying to capture sand within your bare fingers.

A ringing sound broke you out of your mindless scrolling, bored eyes looking at the top of your phone to see someone calling: it was your mom. Not wanting to lose your head for not answering, but also wondering why she had called so suddenly, you immediately picked up, device closely pressed to your ear in search of an answer.

Oh, how you wished your hearing was wrong, that this call was just a hallucination your bored mind made up to morbidly entertain itself.

Not a single muscle in your body moved, the device still clutched in your grasp, knuckles no doubt turning white from the force, even after the call had ended long ago. The words you had heard echoed in your mind cruelly, not showing any signs of leaving.

And yet, you felt weirdly calm. No, empty would be a more fitting word.

Whereas you should have been crying, sobbing, screaming in despair or anger, you did nothing. Not even a gasp of surprise left through your open lips, only the guilt of not feeling any of those settled over you, like a chain of sin grasping onto your skin.

You felt broken, as if you weren’t functioning properly, something that only added to the weight, keeping you down.

Steps could be heard from nearby, their goal obviously you, based on their only strengthening volume. Were the boys back? But when? You didn’t hear them outside the door, something that should have been nearly impossible, with how loud they usually got, playing around with each other with no restraint.

Your name was called quietly from above, making you turn your head and look at Chan, his gaze immediately turning soft, as if he had sensed what had happened.

Not even a second later he was by your side, gently asking you to sit up, only to take you into his warm embrace and lock you in place, arms not intending to move anytime soon.  You instinctually melted into his hold, his chest holding you up safely, something you trusted him to do after knowing him for so long.

“What happened?” - he asked, voice so sweet you nearly shattered from it.

You knew he only meant good, of course he did, he was Chan after all. Even so, no words left your lips, your eyes remaining dry, chest feeling empty and void of anything, only the guilt having long nestled itself in there. So, you could only shake your head and shrug your shoulders, turning around in his arms and burying your head into his neck.

Hiding away seemed to be your best choice at that moment, something you were correct about as another person joined you two, his warm hand gliding across the expanse of your back reassuringly.

You could feel Chan shaking his head above you, a few strands of your hair gently moving around from the movement.

“Maybe our yeobo here had gotten tired from waiting for us all day long, hm?” - it was Hyunjin, voice impossibly close to you.

Not wanting to cause them needless worry, you nodded into the older’s skin, a little chuckle leaving them at that, calling you cute. Still, Chan’s hold on you tightened, as if he somehow knew you were lying.

A question popped into your head, one that would hopefully distract them from trying to interrogate you and dig down to the core of the problem.

“Where are the others?” - you asked, proud of how you sounded like your usual self. “Mh, well, Changbin and Sungie are working on their duo song, but they should be wrapping up pretty soon, since they had been really excited about our planned movie night.” - Chan answered, his chest rumbling soothingly. “Minho hyung is helping Lixie with a tricky move, although they should arrive any minute now, since they sent me back saying they were about to be done and I wasn’t needed there anymore. Minnie and Innie had actually come up with us, they just went to their dorm to get ready for staying the night here. They didn’t want to hear you whining about sweaty hugs again.” - Hyunjin chuckled, making me shoot out of my hiding place with a force. “That’s gross, of course I wouldn’t want that! You guys keep whining about it at practice too, you hypocrite!”

Chan only laughed at the dramatically gross expressions Hyunjin kept making from the mere thought of hugging while being at practice, making you laugh along with him. You had temporarily forgotten about that phone call, your worries erased along with most of your guilt, only laughter and joy remaining in its place, something that had always been the case whenever you hung out with these men.

One by one the others arrived as well, the place turning lively and loud, but loud in the good way, the way that made everything feel cosy and like home. You relished in it, soaking in it like a cat laying in a sunny spot, your dark fur turning warm to the touch.

Not a single thought about that phone call crossed your mind, or about how you were supposed to feel, the scene of Felix being smothered by Changbin’s much more muscular form way funnier in your eyes. Minho magically whipped out a tissue from somewhere, turning to a scared Hyunjin with a threatening smirk. Jisung laughed at him, only to be the next to be threatened, forcing the quokka and the weasel to run away together. Those who remained seated calmly with you loudly enjoyed it, Seungmin’s laughter being the loudest in your ears since he had decided to steal you away for a cuddle session, and who were you to say no to that.

Then, your phone rang once again, stealing everyone’s attention, yours included.

It was your sibling, making dread run down your spine, knowing fully well they would never call unless it was something serious, the two of you usually only chatting, much more comfortable with that.

No one uttered a word around you as you sat there, your form unbeknownst to you turning more and more rigid with every word uttered through the device in your hands. Unseeing eyes stared ahead, air stuck in the organ they should have left long ago, refusing to budge even an inch.

After some time, a few minutes or half an hour, you had no idea, the call ended, much like the previous one. Curious pairs of eyes were set on you, although most of them were paired with creased foreheads and furrowed eyebrows, worry clearly written on their faces.

The silent question was eventually asked by Felix, the bravest one to break the heavy atmosphere.

Words spilled out of your mouth eventually, uncertain and shaky, much too quiet for the boys’ comfort. They formed dreadful sentences, ones that talked about how not only your sibling’s pet you adored so much needed a surgery, or in the worst case scenario, that little fluff ball wasn’t even saveable and needed to be put down. By the time you had reached the part about your beloved parent, who was diagnosed with cancer and similarly to the little pet was in need of a surgery, your lips were wobbly, fat tears rolling down your eyes and carving their way down your cheeks, falling into your clothing and making it uncomfortably cling to your skin.

Everything broke inside you, all those feelings you felt like you needed to feel hours ago now rampaging inside your poor body, destroying it from the inside.

Nothing felt fair, as if the universe specifically had chosen you and your family to suffer with the way things had been going lately, these two horrible news only adding to it considerably.

“Hey, baby, can you listen to my voice? Let it all out, just breathe with me, mkay?” - Chan’s deep whisper reached your ears, his strong arms wrapped around you once again, replacing his younger member’s gentle hold.

His presence merely caused the dams to break more, something you thought was impossible, yet it happened all the same. Through extremely blurry vision you spotted the one you sought after, arms raised and hands making grabby motions towards his direction. That was all he needed to understand your silent request, the quokka settling into your hold and hugging you from the front, not caring how you buried your head into the crook of his neck and dirtied his clothes with snot and tears, or even the dangerously tight hold you had on his clothes, the fabric on the verge of tearing apart. 

He merely held you as you sobbed there, joining Chan’s little hums, the two knowing how much it usually calmed you down.

And as you were sandwiched between the two, letting your sorrows out, the others gathered around and held onto any body part they could, even if it was only your pinky. They all held onto you tightly with no exception, Hyunjin and Changbin wiping your tears away gently once you had lifted your head up, even though their faces were just as wet, empathy running through them with a vicious force.

The others weren’t better off, the aussies and Jisung openly crying along with you, while Innie sat besides you with teary eyes. And while Minho and Seungmin weren’t on the verge of tears, you knew that didn’t mean they didn’t care. No, of course not, otherwise the glass of water and your favourite snack that were pressed into your hands gently, yet firmly, would mean nothing.

Even after hours of just staying there, of just listening to them gently talk to you, you remained silently in your place, the warmth that enveloped you from all directions much too precious and comfortable to pass up.

Maybe you would be fine, you kept telling yourself, the little voice of hope agreeing inside your muddled mind.