#i was not in mood so i did something sketchy and dirty i actually wanted to paont it so cleanly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaeminscoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Lo contrario al amor | q. kn; s. jn

Lo contrario al amor- The opposite of love.

Pairing- Seo Johnny x reader x Qian Kun

Genre- Smut.

Word count- 4.14k

Warnings- threesome, sexual themes followed, stripper!reader au, richceo!kun and Johnny au, overstimulation, horrible depiction of how a strip club works, light spanking, dirty talking, praise kink, honestly a filth, why am i even bothering with the warnings-, pet names: princess, doll, slut, baby girl. Sir kink. Also kinda rushed because I'm an idiot (actually, it's cause i wrote this a day before my sociology exam so..-)

Synopsis- The way they looked at you seemed close enough to love. You thought it looked quite the opposite of love. And your definition of the opposite of love was lust.

Type- Requested! I'm sorry this took long! I really had to push myself to write this oskekke

Raven's up next, you've got 2 minutes!" Jacob screamed in the changing room where you all lined up according to who's going up the stage next, all dolled up, the actual costumes underneath the loose shirts handed to you for coverage until the performance.

"Raven's not performing today. She's got a few other works to do"

Stripper. Not many are usually proud of that line of profession. But you thought nothing wrong of it. You were proud to blurt out "I work at N-WV club as a part time stripper and part time server". You loved dancing and you loved the attention you got, you thought it was great. And you got paid handsomely too so that's a plus one.

What made you love your job further more than you already loved it was the regulars you had during your days of performance.

The thing you liked about your club was they never reveal personal identity. You each had a code name of your own. You were given the name Raven by the audience due to your dark tresses and the variety of black outfits you'd worn and performed and not to mention, absolutely rocked in. Another reason to love your work. Safe identity with no harms to personal life whatsoever.

Hel and Hades. You'd ridiculed the names when you first heard them from your co-worker. "Which idiots would name themselves after the vikings and the death god??" you'd mocked until you actually met the owners of the names.

Always sat the farthest away from the stage but dead in the middle which showcased the entirety of the stage in one screen was the table labelled by their names. Two young sat always adorned in a suit, the coat of the tux shrugged off their body with it loosely hanging over their shoulder, the tie tugged loose with the collar button undone and the sleeves rolled up to their elbow.

One, Hades, the male with dark brown hair that was swept neatly to the side with a few strands resting freely on the forehead. Seemingly a little more built than the other, eyes stoic with focus on each and every one of your moves with the bottom of his perfectly shaped lips between his teeth. His gaze never failed to make you shudder. The only way to explain would be deadly.

The other one, Hel. He wasn't all that bad himself. Far from bad. Faded turquoise hair tousled carelessly at the crown of his head perfectly portrayed his exhaustion at work. But that only added as a charm to him as his messed up hair gave him an ethereal look. He'd always have his arms folded over his chest. Almost the same build as the other. A smirk played on his lips each time you'd discard a material from your body and then another. The look was still the same as deadly as Hades'. A little softer and subtle ton of sin hid under his angelic features. Intoxicating would be the right word for him.

You turn towards the owner of the club just as you hook in your hanging diamond earring, fixing the rhinestone choker "What other works?" you ask confused and a little taken aback at the same time. Mr. Kim (who'd asked you on multiple occasions to just call him Doyoung) was the organized and no 'last minute' booking type of guy. If someone wanted him to do something for them they'd have to let him know that at least a week or two prior. Whether it came to booking a private performance, or booking a VIP seat. It had to be done within a week before the actual work.

"Come with me." he replied calmly with his hands dug into the pockets of his formal jeans.

"Yeah, let me just get my masquerade mask-"

"Leave it behind". You stand in place, still with the motions of rush still going on around you. Leave the mask behind? That'd reveal part of your identity and that definitely wasn't a part of the club. "Huh?"

"It's a private booking, you don't need the mask, doll" Doyoung exclaimed as though he hadn't just failed to let you know of the private booking before the day. "I don't have any private performances scheduled for today, Doyoung"

"Now you have, darling. I'm sorry but they're important to this club. And to me." with that he whipped his head towards the exit door before nodding at you to follow behind him.

You quickly discard the loose shirt, opting to wear a robe around your outfit before you follow behind him through the dimly lit, sketchy yet posh passage across the club to the section where tiny cabins were situated.

You jog slightly to catch up with his long strides while clutching onto the rope of your robe. "Who are they? The oh so important people?" you ask from behind him.

"Mr. Seo and Mr.Qian."

"Who?" you inquire, face contorted in confusion at the unfamiliar names. "Let's say, You'll see once we get there." he replied, taking a sharp turn towards the more isolated regions of the club.

You say nothing in reply, silently following him a few more steps before he comes to an abrupt halt in front of one the cabins at the end of the hallway. He knocked twice on the door, reaching out to the door knob twisting it to unlock the door.

Names of gods of hell was a smart choice.

There sat inside the room were the two regulars, looking absolutely sinister in clothing as simple as formal work wear. " Ms. Y/ln at your service just as you asked for" Doyoung spoke up first after stepping into the room. Expecting him to call you by your work name, you were once again taken aback at how he regarded you with your last name but did nothing to correct him, instead chose to stand silently beside him.

' Must be important enough to break his own club rules. '

"We'll take it from here, Thanks Doyoung" smiled the brown haired lad, Hades.

"My pleasure, Johnny" Doyoung nodded at the other in acknowledgment of his presence before turning back facing you, smiling at you with a tilt of his head and a pat at your robe clad shoulder and headed towards the door with that, exiting the room and leaving you in the closed space with the two men.

You hear the click of the lock from behind you, only now lifting your gaze from the ground as you shift your weight from one feet to another, looking at one male then the other. Your clothing does nothing to help you feel secure under their eyes, strong enough to make you feel bare with two layers of clothing on your body. Weird how you, the confident on stage with at least 50 or more pairs of eyes on you, was now feeling conscious of yourself in front of just two pairs of eyes.

"Hi, I'm Raven-" you start, finally shaking off the nervousness to get your job started and done with, something about both looking at you as though they'd devour you whole having you shaking the slightest.

"Y/n, that's your name, hm?" the one, Johnny, or so called by Doyoung, spoke up, interrupting your mid sentence as the blue haired just leaned forward in his seat, his elbows resting lazily on his knees, absolutely loving the way you were taken aback, the same everyday smirk displayed on his feature.

"Yes. But here in this club, we go by our code names. Please refer to me as Raven, Sir." you reply, stepping out of daze as you tried keeping your tone as polite as possible. "In this room we go by our real names, doll" he finally spoke up, the one beside Johnny. "I'm Kun. That's Johnny. There, we all know each other's names now" Kun, spoke in a smug tone, eyes darkening shades as they roam around your figure.

"But sir, that's against the rules of our club" you try explaining, only after scoffing in your mind as you recalled back to how the owner himself went against the rule. "Here, Inside these four walls, the rules to be followed are only to be set by us, that's what we paid for, princess" Johnny beat Kun to speaking up.

"Yes, sir" you reply after a moment of silence as the two males shifted into a more comfortable position on the leather couch. You stood awkwardly beside the pole in the middle of the room, fumbling with the knot at the center of your stomach, trying so hard not to keep a continuous eye contact with them.

Dangit. What's it with me today?

"So, will you put on a show for us now or do we have to wait a little more?" Kun asked with his eyebrows raised.

"Ah! Yes." you reply quick, making fast steps forward towards the corner of the room where the speaker with a remote on top was situated. You pick up the controller and pressed play, a sensual tune immediately vibrating through the speakers, filling the silent room with the tune. You place the controller back on top of the speaker, inhaling sharply before getting into the mood, shaking off all previous nervousness, instead replacing it with a seductional look and a smirk on your face.

You run your fingers through your hair, intentionally messing it up to make you look even appealing than you already did. You turn towards the front, walking one leg crossing the other towards the pole, circling it, with just your fingers grazing the cold metal as you stare at them one after the other enough to have them hooked at your doings.

You give them a wink before lifting a leg up with a push, the other rooted at the base of the pole as you clutch tightly onto the pole for balance while your body twirled around the metal, the robe still on.

You continue playing around the pole, ending the pole segment with a drop down to the ground in a rather seductive way. The tune passed half of the song, changing into a much faster beat to which you finally hooked your fingers onto the knot hiding your black lace dress under, slowly undoing it while their gazes got much harder. Your eyes travel lower on both of their bodies, a soft dent forming over the blue jeans making you feel proud.

The robe now off, you felt bare than ever with just a black lingerie now adorning your body, but you kept going. You stand dead in front of them as they lean back in their seat.

You move to the beats, feeling yourself finally let loose as the cockiness of all the attention on you got to your head.

Lost in beats, you let out a yelp of surprise when you feel your wrist being tugged at, making you stumble steps and land onto Johnny's lap. You stare wide eyed at him as the domineering aura he had made you feel small under his gaze. You grip onto his shoulder for support to keep your bottom half from touching his muscled up ones. "Keep going with the performance, darling" and so you did.

You'd given lap dances before. But that was at a frat party which was forced and half hearted as it was a stupid dare posed by one your friends. So you were a little nervous as the undying want of making them captivated by you strong enough to overpower the nervousness as you lower yourself and get back to moving to the beats. On Johnny's lap this time around.

Grinding your hips against the latters, you see from your peripheral Kun's head thrown back as he kneaded himself through the material of his jeans, the sight making you whimper softly as you grind harder against Johnny, earning a groan from him.

The song comes to an end slowly, the beats slowing down the same way your movements did, completely coming to a halt once the music stopped. You were panting slightly, palms resting against his built chest (you can literally feel the indents under your hands) when you feel yourself being lifted, in a swift motion over from Johnny's lap to Kun's with your back facing his front.

You look up after having your eyes closed in surprise at the sudden motion only to have Johnny close the space between the two of you, Kun's hands finding their way around your waist. Face buried in your neck. The initial shock of a really good looking guy kissing you while the other played with the skin of your neck washed over your body with a jolt.

Yes, you're loving the feeling. Having the attention of two absolute sinful men, not to mention, good looking ones was heaven. There's no denying that you felt attracted to them. But it went against your club rules, and most definitely against your morals. So you shake off Johnny, placing your hands between your bodies to create some space between the two of you, "I can't -we can't, if Doyoung finds out I'll lose my job, i can't afford that-" you explain as you cower further into Kun's lap at Johnny's strong gaze, feeling like you've just disappointed him. "Then so be it. You can work for us." he leaned in once again, only to be stopped by you for the second time. "No, we shouldn't-"

"No one gets to know what happens inside these four walls and you get to keep your job, how about that?" Kun offered, mumbling into your neck which had you screwing your eye shut at the sensation, "But this is wrong" you try rationalising.

"Oh darling this is wrong in all the right ways, don't worry" and with that you let yourself relax onto the man's body, Johnny forcing himself onto you once he heard you heave out a tiny 'okay'.

One hand holding you still against him, Kun let his other hand travel up while Johnny pressed his lips against yours in a teeth clashing kiss, not wasting a second to bite down onto your lower lip to have access into your mouth. You groan out at the feeling of hands all over your body as Kun kneaded your breast, lips traveling up your neck, to your ear lobe which be nibbled on, while giving most of his attention in playing with your breast.

Eyes screwed shut, your body fall limp on top of Kun's body the moment Johnny cupped your heat through the material of your lingerie, the only thought you had being 'fuck morals' when this is how good they're making you without even directly giving attention to the parts you need them the most. Johnny pulled away from your lips, a thin trail of saliva still keeping you connected as he applied pressure on the bundle of nerves through the material of your clothing, well, barely covering clothing.

"You have no idea how long we've waited for this, baby girl." Kun whispered against your hair while shifting his attention to the unattended boob.

You jerk forward when Johnny enters the clothing, now touching you bare. The feeling of his cold fingers against your sex had your head roll back and rest against Kun's shoulder. "That feels good, right baby?" Johnny inquires while using his thumb to apply pressure on your clit, drawing small circles on the swollen bud the same time Kun pinched the sensitive bud of your chest, making you able to only nod your head at the lads question, "Words, baby. Use your words"

The expression on Johnny's face had you thinking better than wanting to disobey him, "Yes!" you moan out at the increase of speed in stimulation as Johnny's other hand helped keep your legs apart. "Yes what, doll?"

"Yes, s-sir.. " you mewl, feeling a familiar knot form at the bottom of your stomach making your face contort into an expression of pure bliss. "There we go" he cooed, moving his attention from your clit to the entrance, plunging two fingers in straight into the wetness as your sleek wall gave enough access to do so, immediately setting a fast pace, coaxing you to your first high with a shudder in your body. Johnny kept his fingers moving to help ride out your high while you feel Kun shift behind you, "My turn"

You feel yourself being lifted off of his lap and placed on the couch. You hiss when you feel Johnny remove his fingers from within you and into his mouth, licking your juice clean off his fingers. But you don't get much time to intake the sight as you feel soft muscles working their way on your now sensitive core. You look down to see Kun buried between your legs. You were probably too dazed to notice him drag your lingerie bottom down and place himself there.

You whimper as he circled his tongue over your clit while Johnny took his place beside you, kneading himself the same way Kun was a few moments ago. You close your eyes tight at the feeling of Kun's mouth working wonders at your core, a mixture of moans and curses leaving your mouth, "You taste so fucking sweet, baby" the vibrations of his voice sent shocks of pleasure down your core, added to that a finger being inserted into the the messy hole triggered your second high,

"Kun oh!-"

The sounds of him lapping at your juices made your skin heat up, blood rushing up your cheeks while you choke out a sob at the faint pain you're now feeling at the continuous stimulation.

"You did so well, baby" Johnny hushes you while Kun still kept going. Johnny caressed your hair, trying to distract you from the aftermath of being overstimulated.

The feeling being too overwhelming, you finally close your legs over Kun's head, making him come to a halt as he leaned back from his kneeling position. The lighting in the room highlighted the wetness on his chin and lips as you finally got some time to catch your breath.

"Who's going first?" Kun inquired, looking more at Johnny than you while wiping the residue using the back of his hands. Instead of considering giving a reply, Johnny looked at you with tilt in his head and a smirk on his face while you shy away from their gaze. "she'll take both of us like the little slut she is, isn't that right baby?" he asked, a probably rhetorical question while his gaze stayed hard. At the lack of response from your side, Kun took a step forward, bending down slightly, reaching out to clutch your face a soft yet firm grip, forcing you to look at him.

"Aren't you going to answer him, doll?"

"Yes, Johnny." you answer, mind a little clouded to think straight but still managed to form coherent sentences, enough to give a proper reply. "The pleasure really got to you, huh baby?" Johnny inquired, standing up while working on undoing his belt, "It's sir for you slut. Get on your knees. Now"

You scramble quick onto your feet, mumbling a silent 'I'm sorry, sir' and dropped down on to your knees, hissing at the slight irritational burn between your legs but had no time to get distracted with it as the lad in front of you placed himself right before you, tugging harshly at your chin to make you look up to his eyes, "I don't think i need to tell you what to do from here, baby. Get to work" And so you did, you were about to reach out to grip the shaft when you felt Kun rub at the skin of your ass, while providing a soothing feeling for a second before you felt his hands come down with force, making you yelp out of shock with your mouth wide open.

Taking this chance, Johnny let go of your chin, finding comfort in the warmth of your locks instead, pushing himself forward and forcing his hardness into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your tongue being flat laid out below his member. "You look fucking stunning like this, princess"

Focused on the sounds coming out of Johnny's voice, determined to pull out more, you start bobbing your head forward and backwards, taking in as much as you could each time you pulse forward. You try relaxing your jaw and focus on your breathing as much as possible, to try and not activate your gag reflex when Johnny's hips start thrusting his hips forward, following the same rhythm as your head making the head hit the back of your throat, sending jolts all over your body.

Too focused on making Johnny feel good, you fail to notice Kun enter you from behind, slowly pulsing inch by inch into your still sore wetness, catching you by surprise as you let out a throaty moan, spending waves of pleasure up Johnny's body, pulling him closer and closer to his high.

"How fucking wet." You hear Kun groan from behind you while slowly starting to move his hips once he had completely eased into you, making you lose your rhythm you'd kept for pleasing Johnny, stilling and letting him fuck your mouth instead.

"She's so fucking wet, John. And wet. You're a little whore for all this, aren't you?" the blue haired lad questioned as though expecting an answer, "you love being used like this, don't you?"

Too occupied with being stuffed with a cock in your mouth and Kun picking up his pace from behind you, all you could do was lean forward and balance yourself on all four while letting them take care of your pleasure and theirs.

You feel Johnny's hip stutter, seemingly getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. His face contorted in pleasure, seeming desperate to chase his high. The vibrations from your moans and whimpers only dragged him closer, added to the fact how you sucked on his shaft like your life depended on it.

"I'm going to come, baby. You'll be a good girl and swallow all of me, right?" He asked, while buck forward from a rather hard thrust from behind, Kun's groans mixed with yours and Johnny's slightly high pitched ones, along with the sound of skin slapping pulled you close to your high too.

Unable to answer with being stuffed, you nod your head as much as you could while flattening your tongue out and giving one last hard suck, earning a loud groan from Johnny as he came to a halt, thrusting slowly to empty himself completely in you and partly to ride out his high, you keep your mouth wide open to allow him to do so, while screwing your eyes shut while Kun reached out from beneath you, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing quick circles on it.

Once Johnny pulled out, you immediately swallow all of his essence, not wasting a drop of it while letting out a sob when a particular thrust had Kun finding your soft spot, coaxing you closer to your high making you convulse around his shaft, "Open up, babygirl" Johnny tapped at your cheeks, while his chest heaved up and down. You open, showing him that you'd down aa he asked you to, and immediately closed it again, pulling at your bottom lips when Kun's ministration grew faster and hurried on your clit, "I'm so fucking close, baby. So, so fucking close"

And that was shown by how sloppy his thrusts had gotten. Johnny mumbled out a soft 'good girl' and flopped down onto the leather couch while watching his friend destroy your core.

You reach your high with a loud cry, closing around Kun even frequently that before as pleasure finally turned into pain, your core practically begging for a breather. Your whimpers, and the constant opening and closing around his shaft threw him off the edge as you felt his member twitch inside you before warm fluid shot up inside your sex. Kun whimpered out praises while slowly pulling out once he'd completely emptied himself inside you, running his hands up and down your back in a comforting manner while Johnny looked at your face. Tears running down your cheeks from the constant stimulation, sweat from previous doings and hair disheveled by his grip on it. Drool rolling slightly down the side of your face while yours and Kun's essence spilled out from your core down your thighs.

You were feeling ecstatic. A warmth from being so full. The feeling could be mistaken as love;

"You're incredible, doll" Kun let out with an airy chuckle while Johnny agreed along

But you knew it was the opposite of it and so did the other two in the room.

It was the feeling of your desires being fulfilled.

248 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as:

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline.

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass.

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts.

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him.

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate.

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table.

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo.

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved.

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer.

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...”

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning.

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone.

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels.

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom.

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out.

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets.

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock.

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes.

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

“Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine.

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother.

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer.

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang.

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag.

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol.

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye.

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs.

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument.

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy.

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.”

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan.

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere.

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion.

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast.

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?”

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends.

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music.

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?”

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself.

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card.

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection.

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled.

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention.

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible.

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was.

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence.

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned.

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled.

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit.

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine.

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases.

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request.

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused.

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow.

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead.

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body.

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes.

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe.

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff.

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile.

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose.

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed.

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist.

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells.

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon.

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side.

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #chan #chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #chris bang #chan smut #bang chan smut

2K notes · View notes

ambivalentmarvel · 5 years ago

Text

so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

360 notes · View notes

feifood · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: Panic

Fifth chapter going strong <33

Warning: mentions/descriptions of death/murder

Word count: 889 words

"Are you scared of me?" His question echoes in your head.

"No," you shake your head, "sorry I can't stop shaking, can you keep going?"

"It won't turn out as well if you don't stop moving."

"Oh," you say defeated. There's really no other choice, either walk out of the room with an unfinished tattoo or finish it with low quality. The next words he says make you a little flustered.

"Are you okay?" This question was genuine. You can feel it. No underlining annoyance, he is being very patient with you, as if he actually cares for you.

"Um," you don't know how to respond. Should I tell him I'm totally freaking out right now because I was forced to join the troupe? Will he think I'm weak?

You don't say anything for a while, Feitan doesn't seem to mind. What's going on inside their head? He asks himself. Why do I care if they're okay or not? I don't. I'm just extra nice today I guess, being able to put out with the cluelessness.

"I don't..." you say, causing him to focus back on you and away from his thoughts, "I don't kill. I've never killed." Although Chrollo never told you the entirety of his plan for the auction, you knew there were going to be dead bodies by the end of it.

"Do you feel bad?" He asks. He is curious about your mindset, he wants to learn more about you. The reason for this sudden urge to get to know you? He doesn't even know himself.

"Yes. I only came to York New to train at Heavens Arena, I've never actually had to kill anyone. Nor do I want to." You reveal.

"The people at the auction aren't innocent," he begins to explain, "the rich get their hands dirty too, they just have the money to hide it."

He did have a point. It's not like you guys were going to steal directly from peoples' homes. Maybe some of them even deserved death, the people involved with the mafia are all pretty sketchy.

"Don't beat yourself up, remember that they deserve this." He continues. You can't help but notice a new emotion in his eyes. Was he, reassuring you? His soft voice really did help you calm down.

Maybe he was right. Maybe we're actually doing society a favour. The people involved in these auctions have their own secrets, we're just making them pay for it.

You slowly nod your head, darting your eyes back to your arm. It has stopped shaking. Your entire mood has shifted to calm and relaxed. Taking a mental note of how you were able to find comfort in the short man in black, you look back at him with a smile, signalling that he can continue.

Feitan is quite taken back. He didn't expect you to smile. The way your lips crease up to form a bright expression across your face. For a second he's dumbfounded, thinking about nothing but the way your eyes shine in the dark lit room. Y/N looks so, intriguing. You reminded him of his past self. He still remembers his first kill to this day. His hesitant hands holding the sword pointed at his opponents neck, the slight feeling of guilt after the deed has been done. But there was something different, he didn't just see you as a reflection of his past self, you were more than that. He didn't know what he was feeling, all he knew was that he had to get to know you better. He will get to know you better.

Realizing he has stared maybe a little bit too long, he resumed tattooing your arm. Room filled with nothing but the buzzing of the needle, you two sit in comfortable silence for the rest of the session.

Before you know it, the tattoo is finished. A black spider with the number 4 in the center of it. Not too big, not too small. It's very well done, you had to give that to him.

"You're very good at this," you praise him while examining the tattoo. Looking up to smile at him again, you thank him for the art he's engrained onto your body.

There it is again, your smile. This time he's not surprised by it, instead, he begins to memorize your features. Taking in the way your cheeks rise up to form the smile that he could stare at forever. You're genuinely thankful, he can tell. He doesn't know how to react to this, no one has ever shown him this kind of kindness before. No one had made him feel this way before. He is beginning to feel safe around you, and he knows it.

Right on cue, another blond in a tracksuit shows up at the door, knocking on the doorframe before stepping inside. He seems to be cautious, maybe that Shalnark from earlier gave him a warning. "Hey uh, boss says the meeting is about the start, I'm Phinks by the way." he explains. Feitan's face tenses up at the interruption, an annoyed expression on his face. He takes a look at you and stands up to make his way out of the room following Phinks.

You take the hint and stand up too, following closely behind them to wherever the meeting was.

#fei.feitan #fei.InAnotherLife #feitan #fanfic #feitanxreader #xreader #hxh #feitanportor #hunterxhunter #phantomtroupe #romance #shalnark #phinks

21 notes · View notes

thelastarchangelaskblog · 5 years ago

Text

There have been a great many discussions had on the Discord server for this blog (I have a link in the sidebar if you’re on desktop). I can’t fully encapsulate everything but I can summarize it mostly.

A) Wizardly undergarments, and that was more than I ever wanted to know about what wizards did before they started with plumbing.

What undergarments do wizards wear exactly? It depends on whether they’re familiar with Muggle undergarments or absolute pure-bloods like the Malfoy family. If the former, they have trousers. If the latter...uh...nothing. They just wear the robes.

there was a big to-do about this on Discord, thanks @alleythegaycat.

Read more because of length

B) Also what’s up with the robes in general? Do we go movie style or something else?

Short answer is ehhh. The movies did us dirty when it came to fashion and hair. The robes our characters wear go over their heads; they can’t be worn like Muggle bathrobes. They’re actual robes that seem kind of similar to dresses (easy access), a bit like this link suggests.

C) Michael’s weird food habits, which go beyond him disliking sour foods and not realizing when he eats that and occasionally chomps down on a bone.

As in, he’ll inadvertently mash up the oddest food combos. Verdict’s out on whether or not it actually tastes okay like in the case of Coke/Milk or absolutely terrible like meat gravy on a slice of cake.

alleythegaycat did a little thing:

Michael: -grabs a slice of pie with gravy on it and puts it on his plate-

Draco: -leans over to steal some of his boyfriend's food before anyone can stop him- hashtag cute couple things

Draco, struggling past the Horror in his mouth: hey uh michael?

Michael: Yes?

Draco: What are you eating?

Michael: Um, pie?

Draco, pursing his lips and looking Done: whats... on the pie?

Everyone at the table just Waiting:

Michael: I don't know? Gravy I think?

Draco: Why is there gravy on your pie?

Michael: Because that's where it goes?

Draco, sighing bc Life: no.... no it doesn't

D) Handwriting!

Michael’s is extremely neat and elegant but not quite cursive. It’s readable to everyone.

Gabriel’s is kind of geometric and messy. The geometric aspect comes into play thanks to his background as Tony Stark. But it’s messy and the letters run together when he’s not paying attention.

Raphael has SUPER elegant handwriting. Just as readable as Michael’s.

Samael’s is kind of sketchy and messy and morphs depending on moods.

Draco’s handwriting is super neat in cursive and in print. He was taught that way to be super neat. So it’s closest to Michael’s but a little less readable.

Ernie’s handwriting is also elegant thanks to his pure-blood upbringing. Same applies to Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.

Justin has messy handwriting.

Susan’s is elegant thanks to her aunt impressing it on her.

Neville only learned cursive and his print is terrible.

Hannah has really cute handwriting. Just like...every letter carefully shaped and in that “classic” adolescent girl handwriting that I don’t have and yet see from everyone else.

Ginny has chicken scratch handwriting but can pull out something neat if necessary.

Luna’s handwriting varies depending on her mood and what she’s thinking of. If she’s paying attention, her handwriting is totally readable. If not, then it goes all over the place and her words are mashed together. She can do 20 different types of handwriting without blinking an eye.

Pansy has neat cursive and will occasionally draw a heart at the tip of her “y” when signing notes to Draco.

#behind the scenes #just general meta info #first born

17 notes · View notes

the--blackdahlia · 6 years ago

Text

Newsroom Chapter 3

Title: Newsroom Chapter 3

Summary: Sam and Dean travel to Indianapolis, Indiana to investigate a haunting at a news station. But things take a turn when the boys become part of the TV personalities.

Warnings: None really

AN: So, I’m from Indiana and I still had to research some of this stuff. I hope this is still turning out ok.

“So basically, we’re going to be their bitches.” Dean said as he drove on I-74 towards Indianapolis.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Sam confirmed, stretching as much as he could in the confines of the car. “And Garth hasn’t texted me telling me they’ve called asking questions, so they must have accepted our story.” Sam typed through things. “So I found a 3-star hotel about fifteen minutes away that has rooms starting at $48.”

“That seems a little sketchy, even for us.” Dean said. “But, cheap is cheap. And I’ve gotten a taste for the finer things in life.”

“Dean, you refused to buy Miller Lite because it went up by like ten cents.” Sam said. Dean shrugged.

“It’s the principal of the matter.” Dean told him. Sam sighed and went back to what he was reading. Dean drove them closer to the city and Sam gave him directions towards the hotel when they got closer.

“This looks...nice?” Sam said, looking around at the neighborhood as they made their way.

“Does the rest of the city look this pleasant?” Dean asked, pulling over to the side as four police cars went past. “Sam, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore...”

“We’re just used to doing hunts in small towns where the sheriff probably is probably married to the mayor,” Sam said. Dean found the place and pulled into the parking lot. It didn’t look bad, but the rest of the neighborhood left room to be desired.

“So, here we are.” Sam said as they got out. They checked in and found their room. It was actually pretty pleasant. Not what Dean would think a 3-star should look like, but not bad. They got situated and their defenses set up.

“So, what station is it again?” Dean asked. “So I can familiarise myself with their work.”

“That’s actually what I was thinking. We could watch stuff on Youtube so we’re not total idiots.” Sam looked through the file of stuff he had. “It seems it’s the NBC station.” Dean was on his own laptop, Youtube up and ready.

“I need call numbers man.” Dean said.

“Go with WTHR.” Sam told him. Dean nodded and typed it in, a little surprised when he saw a very young David Letterman popping up on the screen. “Well, that’s something that’s nice to know.”

“Dude, that’s David Letterman!” Dean said. “I remember staying up late and watching him because it was the only channel we could get in sometimes.”

“He’s not that funny.” Sam said with a shrug as they watch some clips of old news broadcasts to familiarize themselves. If they were going to be interns, they were going to be the best damn interns that WTHR had ever seen. Dean turned and gave Sam a dirty look.

“You watch your mouth. He is hilarious.” Dean said.

“Jimmy Fallon is hilarious. Letterman, not so much.” Sam said. Dean shook his head.

“It’s like I don’t even know you.” He mumbled. Sam rolled his eyes. He made notes, details, everything. He had worked for the paper at Stanford for awhile. If the law thing didn’t work out, being Clark Kent wouldn’t be bad. But neither of them worked out and now he was one half of Mulder and Scully, it was just debatable who was who.

“Okay Sammy, what do you say? Beers before bed then we hit the studio bright and early?” Dean asked.

“Nah man. I’m just going to research some more. I want to be prepared.” Sam said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“God, you are such a nerd.” He grabbed his jacket and wallet. “There is a bar downstairs and I am going to check it out. See what there is to be seen.”

“You do that.” Sam said, typing away to read and watch some more stuff.

****

The alarm on Sam’s phone went off bright and early the next morning. With it being their first day, they didn’t have to be there until about 8 or so, but after that it was up in the air. Sam got up, looking over at Dean’s bed to see him passed out and snoring. Sam smacked his arm.

“Get up.” He demanded. “Won’t look good on us if we’re late.”

“We don’t even have to be there until 8.” Dean groaned, wrapping himself up in his blankets.

“Dean. Up. Now.” Sam made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself, shave, and shower. By the time he came out, Dean was at least sitting up in bed.

“Man, it’s only 5:30.” Dean groaned. “Why are we up so early?”

“Gotta be used to it if we have to go in earlier.” Sam said. “And we need to prepare ourselves for the day.” Dean got up to use the bathroom next, copying Sam’s routine. As Dean showered, Sam dressed himself in some of his business casual clothes. He was adjusting his tie as Dean came out with his hair plastered to his head from the shower.

“I always look weird in these clothes.” Dean said, holding up his shirt for the day. “God, I hope this case doesn’t take too long.”

“It might be fun.” Sam told him, letting him get ready for the day. “We’ll snag some breakfast before we go. I bet it’s going to be a long day.”

They found themselves having breakfast at the hotel, which killed some time and they were off towards the studio not long after. It was coming up on 8 when they pulled into the parking lot. Dean was complaining the entire time.

“Traffic here sucks. If it’s not potholes, it’s construction. They’re lucky the Indianaians haven’t revolted.” Dean grumbled.

“Hoosiers.” Sam corrected. Dean looked at him. “People of Indiana are called Hoosiers.”

“Dude, you are so a damn nerd.” Dean sighed. They made their way inside to the receptionist, who look like she had just settled in for the day. Dean leaned against the counter and gave her a smile. She looked up at them.

“Can I help you?” She asked. The boys could tell that she didn’t want to be there this early either.

“Uh, we’re new interns from…” Sam started.

“Names?” She asked, bringing up something on her computer.

“Sam Murrow and Dean Jennings.” Dean said. The slid a clipboard over to them.

“Sign here.” She said as she grabbed a label maker and made up some badges for them. “These are your temp badges. You’ll get your real ones later on.” Dean and Sam took them and put them on their shirts. “You’ll go down the hall and to the left. There, you’ll be with a couple other interns and they’re going to assign you two to your departments.” She answered her phone then, cutting off any chance of Sam or Dean asking anymore questions.

“I guess this is the hallway.” Sam said. They made their way down and took a left, and sure enough, there were two other interns sitting in a longue. The other two did not seem to be in the mood to talk, so Dean and Sam sat on the opposite side of the room from them.

“What have you gotten us into?” Dean whispered.

“This was the only way we could get in and investigate.” Sam hissed. Dean shook his head. That’s when a young woman walked in, her hair up and a clipboard in hand.

“Hello. Welcome to Indianapolis.” She said with a smile. “My name is Vanessa Bertin. I have your assignments. Terri Harding, you will be working with Katrina Greystone with traffic. Luke Michaels, you will be with Dusty Lisson with sports. Sam Murrow, you’re with Ben Roshia. Good luck. And Dean Jennings, you’re with me.”

“Why did she tell me good luck?” Sam asked, a little worried. Everyone stood and followed Vanessa as she gave them a brief tour of the building and a little overview of everything. She dropped Terri and Luke off at their departments.

“Okay Sam, here’s Ben’s office.” She offered him a smile before knocking to tell him who was waiting and then taking Dean with her back to her office. Sam stood in front of the door as it opened.

“So, you’re the new intern?” Ben asked. Sam nodded. “Fantastic. Start by taking this to the dry cleaners for me.” He handed him a couple suits. “And make it snappy. I don’t have all day.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @we-ride-with-the-tide @dekahg @marvel-af @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @strab0 @sandlee44 @screechingartisancashbailiff

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @supernaturalwincestsblog @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories

Newsroom Tags: @mysteriousharmony @mereka18 @bunnybaby121115

#newsroom #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

jellyfishloveletterghosts · 4 years ago

Note

i have read a lot of your stuff, much of it memorable, but the one fic where steve needed to ask max something and he finds mid-workout billy instead - that first part where steve's brain is completely offline and all he can think about is sweaty billy. (and then when billy uses steve as his workout.. fan-fucking-tastic. okay maybe i just really like that fic and have it downloaded on my phone)

Work It Out

Ah, I think that one stands out so much because I usually write Steve as having at least a little bit of an issues with being dirty in anyway and sweat and other bodily fluids fall into that category. In this one I didn’t give him that particular HC though, he’s all here for it the more sweat the better. He doesn’t put his briefs back on when he leaves instead shoving them under the seat of his car as soon as he gets in before heading home to clean up, he definitely can’t let the kids see him like this.

He 100% pulls them out when he’s alone because he might have been the one to cum in them but they smell like Billy too, during a moment of reprieve between the bus and the tunnels while everyone else is dealing with Will he pulls them out nose pressed into them as he gets off in his car fast and dirty, cum dripping down and staining the upholstery.

I know technically his car is supposed to be at some other location but this wouldn’t go like it did in the show anyway, obviously when Billy shows up looking for Max he doesn’t beat Steve's face in. I actually started a second part for this that starts where Billy shows up at the Byers looking for Max, it was such a fun thing to write I really hope I get inspired to finish the sequel for it. Here’s a lil preview:

Billy is in a shitty fucking mood, he is supposed to be at Steve’s, supposed to have a warm pliant pretty boy to play with. Instead he is in a heavily wooded area, outside a sketchy house with a shattered window after having to play pretend with Karen Wheeler to get information. Not a hard feat but that sort of interest from women old enough to be his mother always leaves him feeling a little dirty and not in a way he likes.

Billy kills the engine and gets out, blinking as Steve comes out of the house, looking determined, as he saunters down the rickety stairs toward Billy. “Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?” He has cleaned up since earlier, looks good, in his tight jeans, soft looking striped polo, it does not really go with his olive green bomber jacket, Billy wants to strip him out of it, likes him better in all his soft looking preppy shit.

“Yeah it’s me don’t cream your pants.” Steve says eyes focused at a distance past Billy, knowing better than to look, god he does not need a repeat of this afternoon, okay he does, but not with the kids hanging around.

“Wouldn’t want to waste the good stuff on my inseam, saving that for you.” Steve breathes heavily through his nose as his hole twitches at the implication and it aches from having been fucked for the first time this morning, from having more than his own fingers up his ass, but it still has heat in his belly, still has his dick kicking and he wants.

Billy definitely continues using Steve as part of his exercise routine in the future and Steve never has any complaints, except after the fog clears and he realizes once again Billy had made him late for work.

Thank you so much 💜💖💜💖💦💦 I am flattered to know you liked it enough to download it to your phone.

#harringrove #jellyghostask #jellyghostfic #wip #a lil spicy

14 notes · View notes

here-there-be-nerds · 6 years ago

Text

Single Dad Taako 4

( 0 ) ( 1 ) ( 1.5 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 ) ( 9 ) ( 10 ) ( 11 )

________________________________________________________

Now usually Taako was down for pretty much anything when it came to his work at the B.OB. He was pretty used to traveling a lot and getting down and dirty. But this? This was bananas.

The town of Refuge was discovered some time ago by some seekers of the Bureau but there had been nothing at the time that would allow passage into this town. Now, Refuge had been a rustic western type town out in the Woven Gulch that used produce riches from their diamond mines long since dried up. Should be nothing special about that right?

That was true, honestly, save the enormous bubble surrounding the entire town. A bubble that nothing could get in or out. Trapped inside for the last seven years after being cursed by a mysterious magic user.

Now, however, they had discovered how to penetrate the bubble and get inside the bubble. The Tres Horny Boys, as they had jokingly called themselves once and it suck, were top of the list for this quest.

Taako was hesitate on most cases, before and after taking in Angus, but this sounded sketchy at best. They didn't know what to find inside or if they could get out. What if they couldn't get out?

Lup had laughed when Taako came to her with some paper work he had hastily drawn up stating she got everything and Angus if anything happened to him. Her laughter dried up in her throat when her brother's face was set in stony seriousness. She didn't want to, mainly because she didn't want Taako to think anything would happen, but she signed all the same.

Taako was a shitty dad, he decided fully, as he and the boys landed next to Avi to get launched out of yet another cannon. He decided this because...well he didn't tell Angus.

Oh sure he told the boy he had another gig, but nothing else. Not his doubts, not his fears. Not the fact he thought he might not come back and was going anyway.

Why was he going? Why was he doing this?

To keep the world safer so Angus could grow up in that safe world. Taako knew to never depend on another person, they'd let you down the second they get a chance, he had to dirty his own hands to get anything. He just hoped it was worth it...in the end.

The mission was just as shitty as Taako could have imagined and worse. It all started out so normally but it all went sideways in less than hour as they learned there was an extra side effect to this curse.

This whole town, and now them, was trapped in an endless time loop. They were forced to relive the same day over again. The same day...where they died at the end.

As the earth opened up underneath the trio, millions of things flew through Taako's mind. Once the panic and reasoning what exactly was happening passed, as the rocks came in on him, before the pain and end. What flashed before his eyes was his family.

Lup, Barry, Magnus, Davenport, Merle, Lucretia...Angus. Angus was the very last thing Taako thought before they woke up in a white space.

"I don't think so boys; let's take it from the top." A voice echoed and suddenly they were back at the beginning.

It went on like that for they didn't know how long before they solved this puzzle. Their deaths were countless and their souls worn down from experiencing so many. They defeated the sorcerer that actually had stayed to watch and revel in the misery of the town.

A man name Isaac, driven mad by his own powers in the end.

Along the way during this hellish venture they meet the goddess of Fate and became her emissaries under the idea it might help during this puzzle. It had and now it's done they didn't mind the extra titles. It wasn't something they were worried about.

When Taako finally returned home after /everything/ and after debriefing with Lucretia about the mission, he felt the weight of every single bit of it hit him when he laid eyes on Angus. It hit him like the world that swallowed him up, like the mining shaft that collapsed on top of him. What the fuck had he done?

"S-Sir?" Angus said nervously as Taako just stood in the entry way making no move to move but staring at him with this...terribly haunted look.

"Can I ask you for a huge favor?" Taako said in a raspy strained voice.

"A f-favor?" Angus repeated. "Sure! Of course!" Angus knew it had to be important if the mood was like this.

"I'm gonna act a bit weird in a minute, it's gonna, uh, be real off brand Taako kind of stuff. I'm gonna need you to not to ask me why." Taako said and his voice started to waver. "Not tonight, not ever. This is gonna be a forever thing, little man."

Angus didn't know how to respond to that, it was a bizarre request. Taako had always been an odd fellow and asking to be stranger felt like a stretch but...Taako's face was betraying emotions Angus had only seen rarely.

"Yes. I won't ask." Angus agreed. "I promise."

Taako staggered over to the boy and fell to his knees, as soon as his knees hid the ground the flood gates opened. Tears fell like over flowing streams, Angus didn't see it long before Taako gathered the boy in his arms and buried his face in Angus' shoulder sobbing. Angus stiffened up and quickly returned the embrace as tight as he could as if he could hold the elf together with his hands alone.

"I...I'm so s-sorry." Taako sobbed in heart wrenching pain, torture in every breath. "I'm s-so sorry."

Taako repeated this again and again, wailing as if in incredible pain.

"Why are you-"

"You /promised/." Taako gasped as he tried to catch his breath.

Angus fell silently and couldn't help but join in crying with his new father, confused and upset.

Taako was like this for nearly twenty minutes and Angus regretted the promise he made. Taako did calm down eventually but only out of exhaustion and possibly just running out of tears.

Angus forced Taako up to his feet so he wouldn't just collapse on the entry way and helped the elf to his bed. He only left Taako to fetch him a glass of iced water and change into his pajamas. If any night needed a sleep over it was this one.

Angus was a Taako's teddy bear all night long; the elf didn't get any rest. Just starling suddenly and making sure Angus was still there and they were both alive and breathing.

Angus kept his word and never asked. He never brought it up and neither did Taako. Magnus and Merle had apparently been sworn to secrecy as well because they wouldn't talk. They didn't seemed as bothered by it, whatever it was, none of which sat well with Angus. Taako didn't exactly 'get over' the whole Refuge thing but he did learn to deal and learn from his mistakes. He looked harder into missions, asked more questions, and stocked more items to help with anything he imagine might remotely happen. Taako knew better to do things halfcocked; he learned bigger badder spells that would have the world thinking twice about crossing him.

The biggest thing Taako did was have more real talks with Angus about how dangerous his work was, how sometimes he wasn't too hot for the danger levels. He was frank about why he was doing it though, because his family asked for his help, because they started this thing and because he wanted the best version of the world for Angus to grow up in.

Taako promised the kid he'd be around, unlike how anyone had been for the boy. Like no one but Lup had been for Taako. He wouldn't be going out with the biggest fight.

That was a year ago now.

Now Taako found himself inside Lucas Miller's lab he was bringing out the big guns. Spells left and right and clocking every crystals golem and robot in sight. At one point Magnus had stopped him from outright punching an enemy in the face lest it do something to his null suit.

Taako might not be thinking too clearly with the possibility of the world turning to pink crystal on his first Candle Nights with Angus.

Shit started going sideways when Merle lost an arm after grabbing a crystal Pan lied about and Lucas turning out to be a bigger lying prick than first thought. Then of course there were the ghost robots of Candle Nights past.

That's when they came into a bigger problem, Kravitz. It turned out this was the cat that had been embodying the crystal golems they've been encountering along the way throughout the lab. Years later Taako will perhaps laugh that this first exchange with Kravitz was along the lines of:

"Hey thug, what's your name? I'm about to tentacle your dick!"

Today though, it was more or less satisfying to watching his new spell working so well.

After they forced Kravitz to the rift to the Astral Plane, they got to see what he actually looked like. And Taako liked~

Kravitz told them he was a Bounty Hunter in the service of the Raven Queen goddess of Death. The Grim Reaper himself had come to collect. Collect them specifically.

Kravitz explained that they were wanted for all the death tolls they racked up during Refuge and never having once checked into the Astral Plane. The Raven Queen could not abide by this and they had to come with him.

Taako was vaguely interested in coming in just to get to know that handsome man a little better, but a visit only not a stay was his offer. When he said that Kravitz became easily flustered to the point his face went skeletal.

Taako was digging the whole thing Kravitz was putting down but there was no time die when suddenly they had to deal with a giant ghost Fantasy Transformer called Legion that was hell bent on invading the Material Plane. So there was that whole thing to deal with and getting straightened out with Lucas' dumb ass meddling shit with magic he shouldn't have been touching.

After kicking ass and taking names, and Magnus trying to eat a rock; they squared away the thing with Kravitz and Taako left with a cute boy's Stone of Far Speech's frequency.

It helped to be heavily charismatic and leveraging the fact they helped shove Legion from whence it came after it got past Kravitz in the first place.

Taako dropped his umbrastaff and bag at the door as he kicked the door closed as finally came home. He was drop dead tired. Well...that was probably a poor choice of words at the moment, but felt fitting all the same. Taako noticed Angus trying to peek around the corner from the hall and duck back around the way. For a detective the boy really needed to beef up his stealth stats some more.

"Hey blubbleh, miss me?" Taako called out and grinned when Angus shyly emerged from his hiding spot.

Angus looked anxious as he looked over Taako; given the last time the elf came home this beat he couldn't be blamed.

"I'm okay, pumpkin, I promise." Taako assured him and opened his arms which Angus gladly ran into.

"I missed you lots and lots." Angus mumbled into Taako's shirt.

"I missed you too." Taako said softly as he leaned down and kissed the top of Angus' head. "See? This why I told you to hang with Lup and your nerd uncle."

"I'm almost ten now, I don't need to be baby sat." Angus looked up at Taako pouting, you know like a mature young adult.

"Sure, but it'd be more fun right?" Taako ruffled the boy's curls playfully.

"Ngh!" Angus pushed away from Taako and stuck out his tongue, another trait of a mature person. "Yea I guess but I had a case I needed to finish documenting anyway."

"Work, work, work." Taako tutted. "Gotta have more fun, kid." Taako laughed at Angus' pout as he walked past him toward the kitchen.

"Cases are fun." Angus insisted.

"I bet they are, no doubt, but like...kid fun?" Taako said as he poured himself a glass of water.

"Like what?" Angus scoffed, taking a seat at the island bar.

"I dun know, shit, you're the kid, you should know that crap." Taako said taking a sip. "You hungry?"

"Let's order out, you just got home." Angus said, clearly seeing how tired Taako was.

"Yea...probably should." Taako agreed stifling a yawn. Who was taking care of whom here? "Fantasy Olive Garden? Still got that pasta pass going to waste."

"Sounds great!" Angus said.

Adventures were great but there was something about the domestic life that Taako had really found pleasure in. Goes to show how much he had been craving it growing he supposed, it was nice he could at least do it now.

"Hey Angus." Taako said as they got ready to head out a pick up dinner.

"Yes?" Angus said slipped on his little fancy boy coat.

"I love ya." Taako ruffled his hair as he left the house with the boy close behind him.

"I love you too dad!" Angus said, taking off ahead of Taako.

"What the fuck, I am so tired, stop runnin." Taako called after him.

________________________________________________

( 0 ) ( 1 ) ( 1.5 ) ( 2 ) ( 3 ) ( 4 ) ( 5 ) ( 6 ) ( 7 ) ( 8 ) ( 9 ) ( 10 ) ( 11 )

51 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 7 years ago

Text

She’s Testosterone 3 [Finale] 2/2

Read the Original: She’s Testosterone Read the Sequel: She’s Testosterone 2 Read the Final Installment: She’s Testosterone 3 Part 1|Part 2

Words: 15.7k Genre: 49% Crack, 40% Fluff, 10% Smut, 1% Angst. Gender Bender!Au Summary: Drop dead gorgeous, cute and sassy - you adore your best friend. But is there more beneath the surface? Who exactly is Min Yoonji? Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking and all other kinds of sin...

Disclaimer: Includes cross-dressing as the opposite gender. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with the subject matter. Viewer discretion is advised.

“You must know him well if you’re willing to grab him like that.” Yoonhee hums, tilting her head to the sky. Your arm is looped around hers, the way she decided to walk with you. “He doesn’t let anyone touch him anymore, not even me, the relative that cares for him the most.” She says dramatically before laughing, “so, are you the two of you close?”

Her eyes pin onto yours, making you absolutely terrified. You feel transparent, like she can see every single sweat bead roll down your face, every breath you take. You’re prey while she’s the predator, an adorable cub compared to the lioness. It feels like you’ve propelled back into the days where you first met your roommate. “S-somewhat.”

The Min family certainly has skills in intimidation.

“You’re cute, you know?” Yoonhee giggles menacingly. “I would’ve never guessed that you were his type.”

“Oh..me and Yoongi…” Your entire face goes red. “We’re not like that! Not at all actually.”

“Yeah?”

She looks amused. You scramble, accidentally stuttering out of nervousness. “I-It’s just that we’re really good friends. Nothing more really. I...uh...I-I’m not sure.”

“Yoongi’s a nice boy.” She sighs out, avoiding the crowd and scowling when there’s too much noise. It seems like she hates Seokjin’s singing and when she passes by Hoseok reading his poem, she almost gags. The similarities between her and Yoongi are incredible. “He was like a puppy when he was younger, the darn cutest thing ever.”

Your eyes gleam, soaking in all the information and you hum in agreement. “Yoongi appears cranky but he’s actually really...soft.”

“Exactly.” She snaps her fingers in her other hand, pointing at you with a smirk. “Looks like you really do know him. He acts like a grumpy grandpa shouting at kids to get off his lawn but he’s still a kid inside. Childish indeed. Back in the day, he would pout and cry when he didn’t get what he wanted. And when he did, he had the biggest smile. What a twerp. We’re not that far away from age, only five years, so I grew up with him.”

It hits you that you actually don’t know about his family or what he was like when he was a child. Hearing all these things piques your curiosity and is absolutely fascinating. You hang onto every single one of his aunt’s words and syllables. She notices that you’re listening intently and her smirk grows, continuing to ramble.

“Girls and boys used to chase him in the neighborhood. He was that cute. Still is but he has this whole man facade and tries to act mad all the time. It doesn’t really work though. Oh! We used to call him Yoongi bear since he was so cuddly.”

Yoongi. Cuddly. “He was?!” Your eyes nearly fall out of its sockets.

The older woman cackles, tipping back her head. “One time after the lights had gone out, he hung onto me without letting go. And as a toddler, he was practically attached to his mom’s hip. The kid has an iron grip, I swear. He loves hugs and affection.”

It sounds like you’re hearing about a completely different person.

But you can understand, you’re able to draw connections. It’s no wonder Yoongi really doesn’t mind when you curl in bed with him, when you latch onto his arm, when he initiates holding hands with you.

As you’re about to pry for more, your name is called aloud.

“Y/N?!” Yoongi’s jaw has dropped and his parents look quite surprised too. “Yoonhee?!”

His aunt cackles again, letting go of you and meeting him halfway. She puts a hand on his shoulder and he stares at her with a distasteful expression. “What are you doing here?”

She embraces him for a tiny second. “Thought I’d come to visit.” Then her voice drops down, whispering something in his ear that you can’t hear. Yoongi’s face goes scarlet and he pushes her off. She walks away from him, joining with the rest of the family.

(“Don’t corrupt her too much. She’s a sweet little thing.”)

Yoongi sighs and then looks up at you. “What-”

“And who may you be?!” His mother has ran up to the both of you, taking your hands, clutching them in hers and making you jump. She grins, a gummy smile that is reminiscent to your best friend but rather having a scary demeanor, she is bright and chirpy, contrasting to her husband.

Yoonhee grins and she crosses her arms, whipping her hair back. “It’s his girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s father’s brows raises. “Really?!”

“No! No!” You hastily wave your hands. “I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you and I’m just a good friend of Yoongi’s.”

His father virtually sighs in disappointment; for a sheer second he was excited and proud of his son. “Oh.” Yoonhee pouts, tilting her head to the side as she studies you again but Yoongi’s mother has yet to accept defeat.

“You are just too cute, Y/N!” She takes you along, looping her arm through yours. Her eyes are full of fondness, taking in your features and staring into your irises. “You know...I've always wanted a daughter…”

”Actually, tomorrow, I was planning to go shopping since I’m here. Would you like to come along with? I’m sure you have a great sense of style!”

Yoonhee raises her nose, accompanying you. “Sounds fun.”

Yoongi’s left behind, his family trailing after you. “Hey!”

The family dotes on you as if you’re a precious daughter of their own. In a million years, you would have never expected the Min family to be like this, look at you with such kind eyes and speak gently and warmly. Then again, they have Min Yoongi’s softness without the facade of intimidation or the ominous, threatening aura.

Yoonhee is the one that keeps you on the edge of your seat the most, a sharp tongue and beauty that is unrivaled with. She reminds you of Yoonji but a real life version, an exact embodiment and the resemblance is uncanny. There are several occasions where you almost call her Yoonji rather than her own name.

Yoongi’s mother is talkative and clingy. It’s reminiscent of how Yoongi ever so often demands affection from you and the way he mumbles on a tangent incoherently when he’s stressed. But she’s considerate and loving, making your heart feel full with her maternal tenderness. On the other hand, Yoongi’s father is quieter and comes off as serious, solemn and dignified. But you notice the way he cares for his wife, cautioning her to watch her step, walking on edge of the sidewalk closest to the passing cars, opening water bottle caps and securing her jacket around her shoulders when it becomes chilly.

His benevolence and thoughtfulness is quiet but distinctively present.

From Yoongi’s mother’s gummy smile to the way his father acts in a nonchalant manner and Yoonhee's unrelenting sarcasm - the similarities are striking.

It feels like you’re seeing parts of Yoongi, pieces of him, walking around on their own. And you’ve never been more in love with a family before.

Park Jimin walks as a ghost.

It feels like a part of his being has been ripped away. His soul is missing. His purpose has vanished. The love of his life, apple of his eye, the light of his world, the Romeo to his Juliet, has rejected him. Thus, he wanders around with a broken heart, begging someone to mend it for him. He cannot work the needle and thread past his tear soaked eyes.

That is….until he lays those same eyes on a certain someone.

Pouty lips. Rounded cheeks. Soft orbs. The breeze carrying strands of blackened hair in front of their face but they remain unfazed. Milky, polished skin and perfect legs, a height that matches his. And the aura is strong, could be felt from a mile away, uncaring and frightening.

Jimin’s heart has been snatched.

“I run a beauty salon, cute little shop on a corner street.” She smirks and scans you from head to toe for the fifth time. “You should come by some time. You’re a diamond in the rough, sweetheart. I don’t just make this offer to anyone.”

“T-thank you.” As you dip your head slightly in appreciation, your pupils flicker over. “Jimin?!”

His mouth is agape, staring at your companion who doesn’t even notice him. “Yoonji?”

When he races up to her and she immediately frowns, taking a step back from the grinning boy. His smile is dazzling despite being out of breath. You almost let out a sob. Jimin truly looks like an angel who has descended down from Heaven. “Who’s this Yoonji? I’m Min Yoonhee. Yoon - hee. Got that?”

But Yoongi’s youngest aunt doesn’t seem at all shaken by him. If anything, she rolls her eyes and points to him with her manicured nail. “You know this guy?”

“I-”

“I’m Park Jimin. Nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and she shakes it with two of her fingers before letting go, wiping her skin on her jacket. “You must be new here? I can show you around if you’d like!”

“Nice try.” She scoffs. “I’ve been here done that. Not a student anymore.”

Jimin sways from side to side in a cheery mood, rolling on his toes. “Wow! Really? You look young! And you’re really pretty. I mean beautiful, not just pretty.”

She’s completely disinterested. “Uh-huh.”

“This is Yoongi’s aunt, Yoonhee.” You try to ease the tension, making a timid introduction. “She’s coming to visit. I think Yoongi might return soon-”

Jimin interrupts, like a puppy dog who just can’t wait to have a treat. “Can I have your number?” The way he asks isn’t in a tone that most would use to pick up girls, the greasy sleazeballs that catcall near dumpsters and sketchy convenience stores. It’s rather innocent and naive, like a cute middle schooler acting brazen towards a high schooler. He blinks with his big eyes, kind smile and a hopeful expression. Your own heart lurches out and if it were you, you’d write your number a million times and throw it in the air like confetti, screaming ‘yes!’.

“Fuck off.”

Yoonhee makes a ‘hmph’ sound and like a cold boss ass bitch, she spins on her heels and enters the gift shop of the university, disappearing from sight. At the same time, Yoongi’s exiting and he smiles at you. “Hey! My parents were asking-” His lips fall at the sight of Jimin.

When you whip your head over, you expect Jimin to be crying into his hands, his smashed heart disintegrating completely into ash. You envision him breaking down in public, the sweet smile of his broken forever. But instead….he’s grinning even wider...eyes following the backside of Yoonhee. He’s in love.

You wonder if he’s a masochist.

“Yoongi!” He reaches over and hugs the other man. “It’s been awhile. Where’s Yoonji? But actually..I was wondering...” Jimin nervously twiddles with his fingers. “Can I have your aunt’s number?”

“No.”

Yoongi takes your hand within his, bringing you away. You’re in a state of shock, merely moving after him. Jimin jumps, smiling brightly and he waves. “Okay, bye!”

How is it possible? What have you been doing wrong? Were you that inadequate that Jimin wouldn’t even look at you twice?

“Are you seriously still hung up on him?” Yoongi sighs, taking his foot and nudging the lump on your mattress. He kicks your butt gently and then plops down on his own bed. “He’s an idiot, alright? It’s not your fault. Nothing is. His loss.”

“No.” You softly whine despite it being a lie. You twist and turn, revealing just your face in the bundle of your covers. “Your parents are really nice.”

“They aren’t.” He takes a long drink from his water bottle. “I don’t know how you did it but they absolutely love you. Even Yoonhee.” He sulks and wipes his mouth. “How did you do it?”

“I don’t know.” You answer in honesty. “I really didn’t do anything.”

“You just acted like yourself…”

“Yeah.”

Now Yoongi can understand why. Even if you’re an idiot as well, you’re a lovable one.

Hating you would be no less than hating puppies or kittens. They’re helpless and so are you. Somehow you have the power of pulling people’s most protective and tender instincts out. It also relatively makes it more difficult for Yoongi to stay mad at you.

In the morning, you still refuse to budge out of your cocoon.

“Get up!” He attempts to tug the blanket away. “Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can stay here all day.” You don’t even answer him with words, just a strangled whine. “This is all because of Jimin, isn’t it?!”

You whimper. Yoongi gives up.

He swears under his breath, getting ready for the day and taking his belongings. You’re too much to deal with. And he has priorities. Studying in the library will give him a better outcome than worrying for your stupid and blind ass. But before the door is able to slam closed, your phone rings violently. Yoongi sighs and decides to pick up since you wouldn’t even flinch if the building was set on fire.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, sweetie? Is that you? Good news! We managed to switch our flight!”

A deeper man’s voice comes onto the other line. “We’re here! Surprise!”

The phone call ends abruptly after some fumbling, an accidental click of the button. Yoongi nudges you again and you don’t make a sound. Though as he drops the word ‘parents’ like a bomb, you jolt up, throwing off the blankets.

“What?”

They're standing at the entrance with the statues and the official sign, taking turns snapping pictures on their ancient camera, putting up their first two fingers and palm facing outwards in a v sign. They’re like tourists on a safari. But the minute your mom sees you, she stops posing and grins. “Mom! Dad-”

“Have you lost weight?!” Your dad wheezes dramatically. “Have they not been feeding you well here?!”

Your mom lifts up two totes full of tupperware. “Good thing we brought food with us! Home cooked meals from yours truly. There’s meat and rice and noodles.”

“That's a lot-”

“Some of it’s for Yoonji too!” Her eyes sparkle with interest. “Now where is that girl that you've been talking about?!”

Your dad laughs. “Your new best friend! Bestest roommate in the whole world. And here I thought I would forever stay as your best friend.”

“I can't leave without meeting her.” Your mother pushes your dad’s disappointed face out of the way, gaining your attention again. “We heard so much about her. I am so excited to see what kind of person took our sweetpea’s heart.”

They've always been like this. No matter what you do in life, even if you become a rich and successful CEO, the new Steve Jobs or a world renowned stripper, they’ll always make you feel like a little girl from the countryside. “When are you guys going?”

Your mother puts her hands on her hips. “Telling us to leave already? The audacity!”

“We’re only dropping by briefly.” Your dad laughs. “That cousin of yours is being chased by some of those ol’ loan sharks. We gotta travel half across town to beat some sense into him.”

Your eyes double, taken back by the news. It sounds serious but he said it so casually. “W-...will you be okay?! You want me to call the police?”

“Nonsense.” Your mother spits out. “Those loan sharks are your dad’s old friends from way back in...what was it?”

“High school.”

“Right. And that cousin of yours is puny. What’s he going to do? Step on our toes? But stop avoiding the subject! Where is this best friend of yours? I want to meet her before I go.”

“She’s busy.”

“What?” Your mother’s mouth opens large enough to a fly to die in. “Certainly not busy enough to not meet us, right? It’s not like we’re here everyday to visit you.”

Why must they be so relentless? “Yoon-”

“Y/N!” The familiar timbre voice ricocheting around the vacant grounds sends a chill up your spine. Your neck cranks around, already sensing the impending doom.

“Oh.” Your mother gasps again. “Is that your best friend?”

“It’s a man?!” Your father immediately and instinctively puffs out his chest as if he’s preparing to put on a facade of protection. “You never said it was a boy-”

“He’s handsome and cute.” A whisper leaves your mother’s lips, eyes following after the person whose coming closer and closer. “How did you do it, Y/N? He’s a bit on the short side but capable looking.” As Yoongi comes near, her irises light up like the galaxy's starlight has pooled in them. “You struck it big, Y/N! You’ve won the lottery!”

She turns to her husband, arms in the air. “She’s won the lottery!”

You thank the heavens and every deity that exists that no one’s around to be witness to your embarrassing parents. “We haven’t even met him yet!” Your father says spitefully. “Don’t be excited!”

“Don’t scare him away.” She commands, poking his shoulder with a pout. “Our daughter already does a good enough job scaring people away. Remember when she threw dirt at that neighborhood boy, Ricky? He cried and never came over to play again. I don’t need you to do that either.”

The bickering between them doesn’t quiet down and so you shush them harshly.

Yoongi is in a white, ironed button up. His top is tucked into his black dress pants and his hair is neat, face freshly washed. “Nice to meet you.” As he approaches, while still catching his breath, he bows his head. “Good afternoon, Mr. L/N and Mrs. L/N.”

“And you are?”

“Min Yoongi.” He lifts up his head, giving a gentle smile as his pupils flicker to you. “I’m Y/N’s good friend.”

“You’re Y/N’s friend?” Your mother fakes a shocked inhale. “The one we’ve heard about so much? Why it’s such an honour to meet you! We must’ve misheard on the phone then. It wasn’t Yoonji. It was Yoongi. I am so sorry for the mistake. You know how phone static can be, especially in the area I live in.”

“It’s no problem at all.”

Who is this person. You don’t know him at all. Where’s the grumpy Yoongi that ripped away your blankets and kicked your ass this morning?

Your father clears his throat. “You look like a strong, dapper, young fellow. Healthy?”

“Very.”

“Good.” Your mother interjects. “Please take care of our daughter. She can be so clumsy.”

You open your mouth to retort but Yoongi’s beaten you to it. “I will.” His arms are behind his back, shoulders broad and he wears the perfect smile, corners upturned pleasantly.

“Hold on a second…” You drag him away, clutching his wrist and walking ten steps from your parents. Your mother looks satisfied and your father is curious. Yoongi looks just as amused. You want to tear your hair out by the fistful. “What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi gives you a pout and he blinks, tilting his head. His expression reads ‘what do you mean?’ as if you’re attacking him for no reason whatsoever. You know he’s bluffing innocence. Min Yoongi is as far from being a little lamb as you are from being an evil dragon. “I told you I wanted to meet your parents.”

“As Yoonji! Not like this!”

“No. Exactly like this. I want to meet them as Yoongi.”

“But...why?”

“Because.” His face is unreadable, an intricate set of codes that your mind can’t analyze. He simply walks back to your parents, joining into their conversation and you drag yourself to him.

“What’s your major? What do your parents do? What do your job prospects look like?” She leans in, “are you thinking of marrying my daughter?”

“Mom! He’s just a friend!”

Yoongi tells your parents his major, what his own parents do, his family background and a vague outline of his future plans. “And I’m not sure if your daughter has any feelings for me.”

“But you might?”

“Mom!” You scream out in exasperation, cheeks puffing out and in a shade of fuschia. She responds ‘alright, alright’ and eases back. His eyes have pinned on you and he laughs at your reaction. You stare back at him incredulously. Yoongi’s so kind to them, understanding and patient that it boggles your brain.

Your mother soon asks to be escorted to the bathroom. When you notice that your father’s standing with his arms crossed next to Yoongi, you open your mouth. But upon having no solutions, you give up. As you walk away from the scene, you can only hope that your roommate won’t say something wrong and they won’t break out into a fight and kill each other.

“Oh ho ho…” Your father catches Yoongi’s eyes watching you. “You like that silly daughter of mine?”

“I uh-”

“You can’t fool me! I know those eyes anywhere! I was once a young boy too, you know! I’m aware of your intentions.”

It’s the first time that Yoongi’s ever been flustered and he shakes his head. “I...I don’t want her just for her bod-”

“You love her.” Your father doesn’t apprehend what the other man was trying to say. And Yoongi’s so thankful that he never said it out fully.

He replies without hesitation.

“I do.”

“Well I ain’t gonna give my blessings so easily. Hmph!” The middle aged person looks away childishly, reminiscent of how you can act sometimes. Yoongi looks up at him, blinking with his rounded orbs. His cheeks puff out and his lips naturally pout, a look that you’re weak for. “Don't look at me like that!”

It seems to work on your father as well.

“Like what, sir?”

“I can’t do it.” Your dad sighs tiredly, dropping his arms. Then, he smiles. “Did I play the role of a scary father well enough?” He pauses and then breathes out heavily. “Y/N’s our only child. We care about her. I hope you do too.”

“I do.”

“She’s probably giving you a hard time. Isn’t she?”

He answers in all honesty, “a little.”

“Then I don’t need to give you a hard time. You’re not a bad kid, kid. I can feel it.” He slaps his stomach. “Straight in my gut.”

Yoongi nods carefully. “Thanks?”

Then the two men find you running towards them at full speed, not wanting to miss out on what they’re discussing. You almost trip on your shoes and a rock but you catch yourself. Your dad chuckles and the younger man smiles at you. “I hope to see you sometime in the future.”

Yoongi looks at him and he continues, staring straight ahead. “The holidays or maybe Thanksgiving? Come visit.”

It feels strange.

Many things have been odd lately but walking alongside your best friend around campus as Yoongi and not Yoonji tops the list. It’s the way it makes you feel nervous, not from potentially getting caught, but from the way he looks at you every so often. And he doesn’t just look. His eyes linger. Yoongi gazes at you.

It’s the way you’ve fully become aware of the height difference, the low timbre of his voice when he murmurs to you, his calloused fingertips when it grazes against your skin. It’s the way butterflies have swooned in your stomach, your heart has picked up its pace and you’re hyper aware of each movement, hitching your breath. It’s the way his hands are larger than yours, secure when he catches your palm, holding it. Yet, like the way you know him, Yoongi’s acted like nothing’s happened, looking away and clearing his throat. At the same time, his fingers intertwine through yours and your grip tightens.

It feels like you're dancing on a line.

Not sure what to exactly call your relationship. Not sure how you feel about him. How he feels about you.

“Thank you.” You bite down the feeling of disappointment when he lets go and shuts the door to your dorm room. “I really appreciate you being nice to my parents. You didn’t really need to do all that.”

“Of course I would do it for you.” He scoffs, tugging off his shoes.

“You’re not really obligated to do that much for me.” You swallow hard, back facing him as you stand between both beds. “We’re only best friends.”

There’s a long silence.

When you turn around, the dim yellow light at the entryway and the glow of the street lamps outside seeping in, provide you with enough luminescence to see the frown and hurt written across his features. “Yoongi?”

The tension is thick. It feels like you’re suffocating, wrapped around in close intimacy, not knowing what to call the person who stands before you. Despite being a meter away, he’s gotten too close. Since when did this happen?

His voice croaks out in a pained murmur - “Why are you so stupidly dense?”

“What?”

“I’m insanely-” He takes one step closer. “ -attracted to you.” Another step closer. “So much so that it drives me crazy.” One more step. “And I don’t want to just kiss you.” He takes the last step, standing right in front of you. Yoongi’s a mere hair away. His soft whispers are deafening, echoing in the hollows of your mind. “I want so much more.”

For the first time in your life, you’re a witness to Yoongi being on the verge of tears.

You can finally see him. “I do want you."

“Do you want me because I’m Yoonji, your best friend?”

“No-”

“Because I’m your roommate who happens to be a male?” He chokes up and blinks past his foggy eyes, looking up at the ceiling before at you again. “Just because you’re attracted to me? Would any other man aside from me do? Or do you want me as Min Yoongi?”

“I-”

“And what about Jimin?” He chuckles breathlessly. “It’s so annoying. You’re annoying.”

“What?”

“Every time that guy is brought up, you forget about everything.” For a split second, you would think Yoongi’s acting irrationally jealous but you know him too well to think that. He’s genuinely hurt. “About us.”

“You wouldn’t be longing for another person if you wanted me for me.” Yoongi stares at you, his warm brown irises pleading for an honest answer, for you to open your heart up. “Do you want me, Y/N?”

“And not just me but as a boyfriend, someone that I can hold and love openly. Because if it’s you….I don’t think I can handle anything less than that.”

The explosion has detonated. The final words have been spoken. White noise plays in your ear. Yoongi steps back, leaving the room. You’re left with the pieces of your own emotions. His heart sewn, truest and most sincere declaration permeating into your skin.

Time has stopped.

Yoongi doesn’t return. You’re not sure where he stays or where he goes, especially when he’s not in the form of Yoonji and could become easily caught. You don’t get a wink of sleep that night either, but when morning comes, you decide to leave. If Yoongi wasn’t coming back because you were around, then you’ll make sure to disappear.

“God, it’s so difficult being me.” Seokjin opens the door, shutting it behind him. He puckers his lips in his handheld mirror, smiling his dazzling grin before the reflection finds a small curled up person in the corner, hair over their face. He screeches, jumping like a flailing fish while he spins around. “Mother fucke- I mean….Y/N?”

Your eyes peek from the curtain of your locks. “Hey….Seokjin.”

“Are you crying?” The narcissistic, school idol puts down his mirror, collapsing onto the floor in front of you. “Do you need me to sing to make you feel better?”

“No!” You jolt your hands out instantly. “I...I’m fine.”

“Where’s Yoonji?” He looks around, scanning the premise but the somber classroom is completely empty.

A whimper leaves your voice, “why?”

“You’re always with her.” He retorts with a huff before running a hand through his hair. “And aside from me, the best looking one in this school, the second in line for looks has to be her. I can’t deny Yoonji’s attractiveness.” He leans in closer with a sly smirk. “Don’t you think we’d make such a perfect couple?”

You giggle at his blind confidence and he seems to have an ego boost from your laughter.

Jin leans in even closer to you. “You want to hear my vocal training? I can go up to really high pitches.”

“I’m okay.”

He nods and inclines back. “Do you think I’m attractive, Y/N? Attractive enough for Yoonji?”

“Well.” For now your mind has been taken off the situation at hand and you decide to entertain Seokjin for a while. “She’s hard to impress.”

“Look at these rings.” He lifts both his hands and flutters his fingers. “Do you know how wealthy I am? How expensive these pieces are? One thousand dollars.” He slips one off his thumb, placing it in front of you. “Two thousand.” He places a silver band down. “Three thousand.” He places yet another and another, naming the prices off the top of his head.

You wonder if he’s insane. If he’s just saying random numbers out loud or if he’s truly that careless to be taking them off. A thought flashes through your mind that if it were Yoonji, she’d grab the jewelry and book it to a store, cashing them in without batting an eyelash.

“You know…” Jin finally looks up, meeting your eyes. “You’re really pretty up close.” You visibly gulp, questioning where this was coming from. The college boy even leans in, flickering his pupils to your lips and for a moment, you’re afraid he’s going to kiss you. But then he smiles.

“I’m prettier though.”

You scoff lightly and he grins, squeaky laughter leaving his mouth like a child’s toy. Seokjin slips back on his rings and he looks up at you again. “I know why you were crying.”

“You do?”

He pauses for the dramatic effect and then breathes in sharply, whipping his head back. “You were crying because you realized you could never be as beautiful as I, Kim Seokjin, the very best.”

“That’s-”

You never got to spoke much to Jin but he was not unlike the others. Very bold and shameless but also very bizarre, dare you even say….weirdo.

“It’s okay. I understand what it’s like. I’ve cried in front of the mirror before too. I asked how could someone be so gorgeous. Let me show you what I mean.” He suddenly bolts up and in the dark empty classroom with only sunlight coming in through the windows, he slowly walks backwards. “The moonwalk.” Then he twirls. “The spin.” His hips have a seizure. “Hip thrust.”

The odd man reminds you of the type of person your mom constantly told you to stay away from as a child. “Bam.” He does finger guns and you fake an expression of distaste. “Don’t lie to yourself. I can see you smiling, girl.” Jin flips his hair back. “I know I’m good, you don’t have to deny it.”

He takes your hand and hauls you up, making you stand on your feet. And you’re about to thank him but he suddenly pulls out your palm, ripping a pen out from his pocket. “If you wanted my attention, you should’ve just asked for it instead of stalking me and waiting for a chance like this.”

“I wasn’t-” You’re interjected by the ticklish feeling, pen tip gliding on your skin.

“Here’s my number.” He gives you back your limb and you stare down at the scribbles. “Call me anytime.” Jin winks and he opens the door again after his spectacular performance, feeling good about himself. “Oh, make sure Yoonji gets it too.”

You nod stiffly. “Okay.”

As you make your way to the bathroom, ready to scrub off the inscription, you ponder if Jin was truly that strange or if he was trying to make you feel better. If it’s the latter then he succeeded.

“Hoseok?” He’s leaning against the wall, staring out the window with tear droplets cascading down his face. He doesn’t notice you until you shake him. “Are you alright-”

“Oh. It’s just you.” The poignant man wipes away his tears. “I was reading this poem and it churned the deepest emotions within my soul. It touched me to the very core. Open your ears, let me read it for you.”

You can’t walk away. Not when he’s opening his mouth and beginning. “The Dumb Girl.”

And immediately you feel insulted by the title. Was this a personal attack?!

“Hey-”

“Mute. Tongue twisted, tongue tied.” He sighs helplessly, shaking his head. “She could not give an answer. Like the spins of a ballet dancer. Yes. No. Yes. No. Time was let flow. Until he cannot wait. Left it to fate. And thus her lover, fell for a dancer.”

“Heartbroken for she had not spoken. Regret like the cold sweat of a burnt out cigarette.” Hoseok’s voice increases in volume and passion, not caring about the broken cracks in his voice. “Forget; she tried! Forget; she screamed! Forget; she desired! But she could not. For the arms that once wrapped around her, the sweet whispers of the monsieur, were all far from being a blur.”

“Mute she was. Regrets became her laws. For time never takes on pause.”

Hoseok finishes and you’re on the verge of tears. Right when you were about to forget about the whole incident with Yoongi and your friendship now standing on a thin line, the turmoil inside, the answers you hadn’t given...they all come tumbling back.

“Beautiful poem, isn’t it?” Hoseok muses with a look of melancholy. Then, he decides to rip out the entire page of his literature book. You wonder if he was trying to look artistic. If so, he was failing.

“Take it.” Hoseok clutches your hand, putting the paper between your fingers. “It looks like you need beauty in your life at this moment.” He taps the back of your back, urging you forward while he disappears.

You take a hard left, exiting out of the hallway before someone can see you break down.

Unfortunately, you aren’t so lucky today. It seems like you’ve been having terrible luck; horoscope gone bad, tarot reader pulling out the death card and black cats hissing at you.

When you’re making your escape, none other than Jeon Jungkook catches you and follows. “It’s not like I care but it would be annoying if I went about my day and thought about it later.” He mutters under his breath, opening the door to find you sitting on the edge of the emergency staircase. “Hey you!”

You turn around, sniffling and he softens his tone. Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, letting the door close behind him. He takes two steps and slumps down, sitting beside you. The man rubs his palms together and takes one peek; confused at the way you rub your eyes, sniffle and your shoulders that tremble.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“N-nothing.”

“Liar.” He calls out instantly, voice ricocheting through the empty staircase. “Tell me the truth, alright? I don’t want to waste any of my time. I got things to do….just say it.”

“I-...” You downcast your head to your hands in your lap. “I’m an idiot. I hurt my best friend all this time and didn’t know. I was blind! And I drove them away and now they’re gone!”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re not an idiot. But maybe you are for calling yourself one.” You whimper, holding back from crying and Jungkook rests his chin in his hand. “They’ll come back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Cause you’re you.” He scoffs again, redirecting his brown irises to look at your face. He seems to study it for awhile until he breaks the silence. “You look ugly when you’re upset.”

He peels off his jacket and drapes it over your head, covering you from potential eyes that could bore into you if they were to open the door. And with the fabric, you’re no longer shaking or shivering. “Stop crying. It makes you look even uglier.”

“Thank you…”

“Don’t thank me.” He coughs awkwardly. “It’s just burdensome to see someone cry. But if you want to show me your gratitude, hook me up with Yoonji. Of course, it’s not like I care about her either but you know, I would be bothered if I knew I didn’t give her a chance.”

You giggle behind the jacket, soaking in the warm moment of sitting next to Jungkook on a stairway, listening to his peculiar comforting words.

“Y/N!” Someone calls your name and you smile, swiveling around. The jacket’s still draped on your head but more so as a hat or hood at this point, revealing your face. Jimin’s angelic smile materializes in front of you and you dwell in his radiance.

“Hey, Jimin. How are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?” He asks with the same politeness, crinkled crescent eyes and a faint dimple marking one side of his cheek. He’s a celestial being, sweet and kind, adorable and beautiful. The gentle smile and tender aura in his brown-honey hued irises could cure diseases.

He’s the love of your life, every trait you could ever wish for in a lifelong companion. The wishes you had made upon stars as a child, the rubbing of lamps and imaginations of genies, the other side of the wedding aisle - he’s what you dreamed of. “I’m good too.”

“Have you seen Yoonji?”

But never once has he spared you an ounce of attention.

“I don’t know.”

Never once has Jimin looked at you twice, considered you different from the strangers in his life.

“Oh. Okay!” He begins walking away, waving to you. “I’ll see you later then.”

How could you have been so blind?

Even if Jimin is the manifestation of all your teenage daydreams and the epiphany of the boy you drew in the corner of your crumpled homework pages, he isn’t the one. He has always been and always will be the person you were merely infatuated with, the crush and nothing more.

You don’t love Jimin.

“Hey! You!” A shout makes him turn. He smiles at the person running towards him.

“I was looking for you, Yoonji!” Jimin perks up and lolling his head. “Actually, I was going to ask you, and I hope you don’t mind….where your youngest aunt’s beauty salon is.” The cute boy pouts and he stands on his toes, swaying back and forth nervously. He pinches a few strands of his blonde hair and looks upwards with his rounded orbs. “I’m in need of a haircut.”

“Do you know where Y/N is?!” Yoongi hyperventilates, having run all the way from the dormitory to campus when he didn’t find you in the room. “Jimin!”

“Oh! I just saw her.” He hums out with a smile. “But your aunt...Yoonhee….”

“Fine! Fine!” Yoongi gives it up, furiously taking off his backpack to rip a page animalistically out of his notebook. It’s completely jagged but he doesn’t care as he uncaps the pen with his mouth, scribbling out an address onto the sheet, using his propped up knee as a table.

It’s a very unladylike posture and you would certainly scold him if you were here since he’s in a skirt and all.

“Thank you so much!” Jimin launches himself over to the other, wrapping his arms around as his hands holds onto the paper tightly. “You’re the best Yoonji!”

Yoongi cringes and peels him away. “Tell me where Y/N is.”

It’s embarrassing. You feel humiliated.

There’s a number graffitied on your hand, the ink completely smudged. In your other hand is a ripped page of a badly written poem. There’s a random jacket over your head, draping you like it’s a makeshift umbrella, except it’s a sunny day outside. And your cheeks are tear stained.

Yoongi holds back a laugh. Your face reads: ‘Why did you leave me?! Look what happened!!’

“Y/N-”

“You had your turn!” You pick up the volume in your voice, pointing at him. “Now it’s mine.”

The seams of his lips meet, silenced at your abrupt loudness. It’s very rare to see you act aggressively. Though, it’s not menacing in the least bit. There’s still a pout at your lips.

“You will always be my best friend. No matter what. It’ll never change. One day, you might not be my roommate anymore but friendship lasts forever!” When you realize people are staring at your shouting confessions, you quiet down. Yoongi chuckles and you skedaddle closer to him.

“Bros before hoes, sisters before misters, friends for life.”

“Isn’t this embarrassing?” He leans down to whisper in your ear, matching your height. Your entire face answers his sentiment but you grumble and he chuckles. “Continue…”

“I love Yoonji. My female friend, the one I met on the very first day.” You look right at him, letting a single smile slip across your features. “But I love Yoongi as well.”

“I’ll accept you for whoever you are. My best friend…...and my boyfriend.”

The words sink in. There’s a long three second, three heartbeats that passes by. Yoongi blinks at you, once and then twice. You wonder if you’ll have to repeat yourself. But then he suddenly wraps his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease and he spins around. “Finally!”

You laugh with him. To outsiders, it may look like two close friends sharing a happy celebration or rejoicing together in a joyful achievement. But to you and to Yoongi, your dearest friend, this marks the beginning of something special, a change that will no longer make you the dumb girl who was blinded and could never give an answer, who let regret become her laws.

Time begins to move again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

Yoongi whines and in a disgruntled motion, reaches out his arm to shut the alarm clock off. As he’s about to drift off again, you shuffle the covers around, unattaching yourself from his grasps. His lids slowly peek open and you’re staring at him with a dazzling smile, one that’s too excited for the early morning and so silly that it makes his heart stutter. You press a light kiss to his cheek and leap up into the air.

“Time to get up!”

He would complain. He would yell at how that damn alarm clock always scares the shit out of him every morning and sounds like a war siren, making him want to smash it on the ground or throw it out the window. He would curse on how you moved too much, woke him up when he didn’t want to wake up, how the sudden absence of your warm body now makes him feel cold. He would grumble of how you’re way too happy in the mornings and how he had to face your morning breath. But still…

You kissed him. So, he’s not really going to complain at all.

“Fine.” Every muscle in his body aches but he still gets up anyway. “Good morning.”

Your silly smile still shines brightly. “Morning!”

The daily routine doesn’t differ that much from when you were solely two friends and you called him by the name of ‘Yoonji’. Though a few things have changed. Very much so.

“Can you stop looking?” You huff out, feeling your bare backside being penetrated with his eyes. A long time ago, he would’ve ran away when you chased him in your naked glory, when you even exposed an inch of skin. He might’ve let his eyes wander once, only to catch a glimpse. But now, he was full on staring. And you could feel his pupils and the heavy weight of his breaths. “Are you actually getting aroused-”

“I’m disappointed.”

His sharp syllables slap you across the face. Your fingers that were buttoning up the ruffled blouse halt. Your neck swings around so fast, it might’ve snapped. “What?”

Yoongi smirks. The boy with the sleepy eyes and disheveled hair, has the audacity to laugh at your shocked state when he, himself, looks like a mess...an adorable mess, if you were being honest.

“I’m disappointed in myself.” He continues to smirk, standing up and taking two long strides to you. “I can’t believe I keep forgetting how pretty you are.”

If you were in your sane mind, maybe you’d gag at the greasy line. But when it’s Yoongi...when it’s him looking at you like that with such soft eyes and a fond smile, your heart can only pathetically run faster as if into the arms of the man you see before your eyes.

You’re whipped. And so is Yoongi.

He kisses you briefly on the lips, a simple peck and then he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Too bad I’m prettier.”

There’s the Yoongi you know.

Even to this day, as you’re pulling up a pencil skirt, adjusting your cute outfit in the mirror, you can’t help but let your eyes flicker over. He’s always had better legs than you and his skin has been clearer, his pretty lashes-

“Can you stop staring?” He lifts up his brow, chuckling at the way you’re licking your lips while staring at his crotch covered by a thin fabric of his boxers. When you realize where your irises have instinctively traveled, you let out a ‘hmph’, twisting on your toes to go into the bathroom.

He joins you a few second after, taking the toothbrush with the set toothpaste that you prepared at the same time as your own. You both brush your teeth in synchronized motions without speaking, blinking the sleep away from your eyes. Then like children, you fight for the use of the sink, spitting it out and rinsing your mouth while trying to wash your face properly.

“You don’t need to impress anyone anymore.” Yoongi blatantly ogles at your ass as you’re leaning against the counter, getting closer to the mirror. He’s pissing in the background and you wrinkle your nose.

“I still have to look presentable.” You cover your dark circles with concealer, skipping out on a whole bunch of products, the bottles with thick pigments abandoned. You used to cake up your face, covering each flaw and blemish in case you’d run into Jimin but now things are different.

Your skin can finally breathe - you don’t have five coats of mascara on, a centimeter-thick layer of foundation on your face and a procedure that lasted up to an hour. You finally look like yourself.

“Are you using hair rollers?” You look at him through the mirror in disbelief.

Yoongi has them in his hair, the bangs of his wing curling with the blue roller. “So what? I need to look presentable as well.” Without a care, he takes the blow dryer and whisks it around the strands.

You scoff, hating how he looks so beautiful without even needing to try.

“Done! How do I look?” You're standing at the entryway, slipping on your shoes and ready to leave. You pucker your lips again, checking that you applied the rose shade evenly.

Yoongi blinks at you, once, twice with his rounded and innocent eyes. He tilts his head to the side and when you’re about to open your mouth to tell him ‘nevermind’, he suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks, pulling you in and kissing you. You gasp before reacting back to him, letting your shoulders lose the tension, melting into his grasps. After a few seconds, he lets go of you and the freshly applied lipstick now stains his own lips.

“That was expensive, you know.” You whimper with a pout, the hue now smeared and missing from certain corners, lips swollen from how it was before.

“Kill two birds with one stone.” Yoongi hums in satisfaction, taking his pinky finger to spread the colour, pursing his mouth. A heat flushes up your face when you realize that he’ll be walking around nonchalantly as gorgeous Yoonji, the pink of his lips directly transferred from your own.

The evidence of your smooch session will be presented to the world and no one will know but the two of you. At best if someone does notice, they’ll think you shared the product like any other friends would. Though, it’s not in the innocent way that friends typically share. “Let’s go.”

You’ve never been happier.

Perhaps it’s the way that your love is returned, that someone cherishes you the way you cherish them. You’re not chasing after someone, helplessly hoping, pinning for their affections. Maybe you’re just in a new stage of a fluttering romance, allowing your heart to swoon over simple words. Your world is covered in rose tinted glasses.

But every time Yoongi holds your hand underneath the desk in class, how he twines his fingers through yours boldly when you walk through halls, steals glimpses of you across from the table at the library - it makes you feel warm...blissful...happy.

And it’s not just because it’s a new romance, not due to your feelings being returned, not that anything will make you this way from your rose coloured universe.

It’s because it’s Yoongi.

“I think I’d still love you if you were Yoonji.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at his papers, one hand using to rest his head in while the other holds the pencil.

“As long as you’re you…” It’s a bit embarrassing to say it aloud. Hence, you keep your own eyes on the lines between your textbook. “...and I realized that we weren’t just best friends, the outcome would’ve been the same.”

“Hey. You have something on your chin.” He interrupts and you urgently look up at him then down, trying to reach your hand to the skin.

“I do?”

Yoongi nods and then he reaches over the table, grabbing your chin into his hand to plant a kiss right at your lips. You’re just as stunned when he pulls away. “It’s gone.”

A few people who had caught the action giggles and whistles at the sight. The librarian sharply tells them to hush. Yoongi pretends nothing’s happened, focusing back on his studies.

You blush from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, wondering how you’ll ever be able to study with him in a mile radius from you.

Your best friend-slash-boyfriend has never been known for being sweet. In fact, your roommate has been known for being bitter. Of course, you’ve always been aware of the underlying moments, the softness underneath the prickly skin. And he’s become even more gentle to you ever since the relationship has been officially established.

His name could become sugar for all you cared.

But Yoongi was still merciless, unyielding and harsh when he needed to be.

“Sto-...p hold...ing back your-…. noises.” He scolds through breathless pants. The both of you had been making out for the past twenty minutes, a string of saliva broken as he parts away from you, swollen lips to show the intensity.

You’re not sure how you got into this position, with Yoongi leaning against the headboard and you, perched on his muscular thigh, straddling him. Before this, there’s only been petting, with his hands travelling up the expanse of your skin, groping at your breasts past your bra and your fingers twisted through the strands of his hair. But today, after stumbling into the dorm room from classes and from hour long lingering stares, the pair of you have difficulty holding back.

“But the others…” You inhale to fill your lungs. “They’ll hear us.”

He smirks. “Let them hear.”

The feeling of his calloused fingertips dancing across your smooth skin sends shivers to your spine. He kisses you again before moving down to your neck, marking it in black and blue hues with hard sucks. You let a strangled moan out, trying to keep quiet for the thin walls. Yoongi gropes and touches you, examining each inch, searching and feeling. You move your hands down to his thighs, thankfully exposed with his skirt that’s now hiked up as well as yours.

Without realizing and with his hand squeezing your ass, hot mouth moving down to your collarbone, you begin rocking yourself against Yoongi’s thigh.

It promptly jolts pleasure into your skin, fulfilling your throbbing core. The thin fabric of your panties is the only thing that covers the direct skin-to-skin contact and it’s already completely drenched, molding to the shape of the lips and folds. “Fuck.”

He squeezes harder and rests his forehead on your shoulder, relishing in the feeling of your wetness sliding on his skin, how you’re getting yourself off using him but without him needing to move a single centimeter. Yoongi clenches his muscle and shifts it slightly, making you whine louder.

Your boyfriend braces himself for another second, ignoring the tent in his underwear before his hand finds the dips in your waist, halting you. “We should stop.”

“Why?” You immediately cry out, embracing him and pulling him flush against your warmed body. “Do...do you really want to stop?”

“Because…” Yoongi exhales staggeringly. “I-...I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I’m ready. I’m ready, Yoongi. Please.”

When he asks you again if you’re sure, confirming if what he’s hearing is right and he tucks a strand of hair away from your face, you nod and reply with a firm ‘yes’. He smiles and kisses you again. “I want you to be loud. Don’t be afraid to hold back your sounds. I want to hear you.”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He praises, smoothing out your hair in gentle motions. Then, something flickers in his eyes and he rips off your blouse. You laugh at how eager he is and you take the opportunity to strip him of his shirt, disposing it to the ground where the wig lays.

Your lips meet his and he lays a hand on your lower back, making you lay down as he removes your skirt and underwear along with his own. “This is so embarrassing.” You cover your face up before moving it down to your crotch and arm covering your exposed chest.

“You know I’ve seen you get changed? Like probably a hundred times already.”

“Well...It’s different!”

“Is it?” He smiles, positioning himself over you.

“Yes!” You stammer out, looking into his eyes and pouting. “You’re...touching me.”

Yoongi moves another piece of hair away from your face, gazing at you lovingly. “Which is okay, right?”

“It’s okay.” You echo back. “But…” Yoongi pauses at that word and becomes serious. “I’d like to touch you for a change.”

He takes a sigh of relief before sitting back on the mattress, hands balancing his leaning body. Your boyfriend smirks at you. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”

You swallow hard, sitting up and feeling his stare bore holes through your skin. Your hand shakes as you drag down the remaining article of clothing on him, throwing the boxers to the ground. Then, you’re met with a red leaking cock - the one from your dreams, quiet literally. But he’s much bigger than you anticipated.

You slowly wrap your hands around him, a feather light touch and Yoongi seems to become eager, twitching every time your skin makes contact with his. “It’s alright. Like this.” He wraps your hand around yours, setting a pace up and down his length, pumping him before he lets go.

You marvel at his member, how it’s been hidden all the time and you’ve never seen it before until this very moment. The precum is already spread across, making your movements more fluid. His girth feels thick in your hand and you mindlessly mumble out your thoughts. “I don’t think it’s going to fit, Yoongi.”

“Fuck.” He throws his head back, brows furrowed and eyes shut tight. You peel your eyes away from his cock to admire his expression, how he’s completely withering in your hands. It feels powerful, amazing and you speed up, having a sudden desire to lick it.

“Are you going to cum?”

“No!” Yoongi suddenly flashes his eyes open, frowning at you. “Why would I be finished so quickly? It’s just the way you said that-”

“Can I put you in my mouth?” The minute the request leaves your throat, he shuts up real quick. Yoongi stares at you, his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps. You decide to tease him further. “But I wouldn’t want you to finish right away….so….”

“I’ll spank you.” His orbs darken, threatening you.

You scoff at him. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. There are sparks, each of you challenging each other. Without answering or retorting, he suddenly lurches out, flipping you onto your stomach.

“You know, I want to take care of you but you make it so damn difficult, Y/N. Why do you have to be such a little brat sometimes and test me?” He makes a firm command, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling in your ears. “Raise your hips.”

You comply and he spanks you once, his palm kissing the skin of your ass in one motion. It’s not too hard but not too light either as if he’s testing the waters out and your reaction to it. “Do you know how long I had to go with you walking around naked?”

Yoongi spanks you for a second time, a bit harder and leaving you tingling. You whimper with pleasure into the pillow, muffling the sound. “How many times I had to jerk it off in the shower because of your teasing?”

At this point, you’ve become hot and bothered. The slickness of your core is beginning to make its way down your thigh. “I was in there every single day for way too long because of you.” He spanks you for a third time, harder and making you moan.

“Yoongi.”

His palm massages the area, soothing the redness and easing the sting. He doesn’t want to push you too far when it’s the first time. And so, he flips you over again, appearing over you and caging you in with his arms. “You’re lucky I like you so much.”

He descends, becoming closer to your throbbing clit. “Can I?” His brown eyes meet yours.

You hum. “You can.” Your boyfriend laps around your folds, sucking on the part you need him most, soft lips on your clit. You moan louder, shutting your eyes tight with your back arching off the mattress, head pushing against the pillow. Yoongi hums in contentment from your response and the vibrations hitches your breath. “It feels so good, Yoongi.”

He licks and sucks, using the warmth and wet muscle of his tongue to spread you apart, going deeper. Your voice increases without even realizing, hands buried in his hair, forcing him closer.

“I’m going to use my fingers.” Yoongi pants, mouth drenched from your juices and making you go bright pink.

“Wait.” You hold his locks before he can dive in again. “Is it going to hurt?”

His blown out pupils soften for a second, half-lidded eyes staring back into yours. “I promise I’ll go slow.” The pad of his finger run up and down your folds, collecting your fluid and with caution, he gently pushes in. Yoongi checks for your reaction and when you nod, he begins to pump in and out with his one finger.

It’s a stretch, a pleasant one that is different from your own hand. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” You manage breathlessly and Yoongi connects his mouth back, sucking again. The tension builds and builds in your lower stomach, the invisible knot tightening. He increases with another finger and you almost burst. You’re nearly there. “Yoongi. Yoongi.” He knows by the trembling of your thighs cinched around his head that you’re close. As much as he loves hearing his name being sobbed out of your mouth, he detaches himself from you.

You cry out from the loss but he comforts you, running a hand through your hair. “Are you okay so far?”

“Yes! Yes. I’m good.” The tears prick at your eyes and though it’s kind of him to keep asking, you’re becoming impatient. “Just please. Hurry?”

“Condoms, condoms!” Yoongi hops to his feet and nearly trips. You giggle at how oddly clumsy he is, frantic like you’ve never seen before from the usual calm demeanor. His hair is ruffled, panic set in his expression, completely bare and naked and vulnerable in front of you.

After a good second of staring at him in a disarray, you finally tell him. “It’s under the bed.”

Yoongi falls down onto his knees, searching for the box with his outstretched arm. When he finds it, he grins and takes one of the hundred packages out. He suddenly is reminded of the first time you met him, how you entered the dorm in confusion and nervousness, spilling a hundred condoms onto the floor. The endearing memory makes him smile.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

He leaps up again after securing the rubber, pouncing at you. You laugh, rolling around until he has you pinned underneath him. Yoongi coos at you, making sure everything’s alright and you reassure him before the head of his cock is brushing against your folds, making you two let out a sigh. He pushes in gently, groaning at your heat and the tightness but still holding back, making sure that you’re taking it well. You pause for a bit until you’re ready to urge him on and he bottoms out.

“You’re so good.” He kisses your forehead. “Y/N.”

Your arms wrap around his back and he gently pushes your knees against your abdomen, causing you to feel him at a deeper angle. You let out a whimper, telling him to move and he complies.

“I wish I could push my cum back into you. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He plunges in deep before withdrawing, setting a slow pace.

You nod against his shoulder. “I-I would.”

“You’d be filled all the way up, spilling but I’d make sure that it would stay in. As much as it could and I’d send you off, make you walk around campus with your cunt filled with my cum.” His dirty words whisper sweetly into your ear and it sends scorching heat to where you’re connected. The pain has outweighed the pleasure, causing you to become less stiff, enjoying the feeling and the moment, Yoongi’s touch that you crave for.

His sweaty hair sticks to his skin, an expression of deep concentration and a grunt that comes from his throat when he picks up the pace. “I’d like to see the look on Park Jimin’s face then. Or Kim Taehyung’s.”

Yoongi becomes rougher, faster and you gasp, clawing at him. “You...you should..do it.”

“Maybe next..time.” He smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to get pregnant. But I’m sure you’d carry my babies, real well, huh?”

“They’d…” You have no idea what you’re talking about, how you managed to move on to such a serious conversation about children but the thought of carrying Yoongi’s, makes you twist underneath him. “...be cute kids.”

“Damn straight, they would be.” His words are both filthy and soothing, dripping with honey and sharp like a cutting edge. One second he’s talking about bending you over the desk, making you cry and orgasm so hard you won’t even know your own name. The next, he’s murmuring about having children with you, how he hopes they’ll be like you and how he could do this again and again for the rest of his life if you want to be with him.

“After this, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you.” Yoongi’s hot breath fans across the bruises on your neck. “I won’t be able to touch anyone else but you. We’d be like rabbits or dogs in heat. You’d carry a litter of my pups, how does that sound?”

“Cute.” You mewl out with a cry of his name when he hits a particular spot that makes your vision go blurry. “I..I like it.”

“I bet you do.” Yoongi forces himself up to kiss your lips. “Maybe some time in the future.”

Wait. Does that mean he actually wants to have kids with you?

The thought that has you smiling doesn’t last long when his hips begin to sputter against yours, going out of control, purely to reach both of your highs. Yoongi’s fingers move down, circling around your clit. You cry out for him and he goes even faster. “I’m going to cum.”

“Go ahead. You can do it.” With a soft encouragement, the tension and knot in your lower stomach snaps, your vision having spots as euphoria washes over. You’re in a daze for a good five seconds, almost losing consciousness from the overwhelming feeling. From your walls caving in, Yoongi also loses it, trying his best to draw out both your orgasms.

He collapses on top of you and when you tell him he’s too heavy, he rolls off.

“Are you okay? Was that okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” He eyes your bruises, patting your hair. You hum and he lays there with you, cuddling your body against his for a full minute, feeling like a pleasant eternity. As you’re about to drift off to sleep, let the exhaustion seep into your bones, Yoongi gets up and disposes the condom. Then, he collects you in his arms, carrying you bridal style.

“What? Where are we going?” You complain, eyes fluttering. Yoongi kicks down the bathroom door, lifting up the toilet seat and setting you down.

“Pee.” He instructs. “It’s good for you. You have to do it after sex or else you might get a UTI.”

You pout, listening to him and cringing when he stares at you as you release your bladder. “I can do it on my own….” You wipe yourself and flush. He says an ‘uh-huh’ but when you get up to the sink, the aches in your muscles and in your core scream out. You stagger and Yoongi chuckles, though he shuts up when you shoot him a glare.

After washing your hands with soap and drying them off, he lifts you up and sets you on the counter. Yoongi wipes you down and then wipes himself down, doing it with the utmost care, apologizing when you flinch from the feeling of overstimulation. Afterwards, he carries you back to bed.

You’re sure Yoongi’s just as tired as you are since he appears sleepy, rubbing his eyes and blinking hard. Nonetheless, he thoroughly completes the aftercare process when he grabs a shirt from his wardrobe, helping you put your sore arms through the holes of his shirt. You lay down as he tucks you in with him, pulling the covers up to your chins.

You mold yourself against him, nuzzling your kind boyfriend. “Thank you.”

Yoongi hums, letting you kiss him before the two of you sleep the night away.

Kim Taehyung skips with his feet, arms behind his back. After being trapped in his laboratory, staring at screens and monitors, now he had some free time. He had slept for a good amount of that time but there were still hours left where he could do anything of his choosing. Sadly, he had gone around looking for you but you were gone, not in your dormitory, not in the classrooms he peeked his head into….

It was peculiar. You and him had gone out a few times together to investigate Yoonji and Jimin. But bizarrely Jimin wasn’t going out with Yoonji anymore. Taehyung tried to wrap his head around it and when he asked his roommate, Jimin simply said that he found someone even more beautiful.

Anyways, now that Jimin was out of the way, Taehyung totally had a chance with Yoonji!

He’d definitely swoop that girl off her feet, make his move but when he looked for you to devise the next course of plans, get advice on what to do - he couldn’t find you nor your best friend.

Thus, he’s heading to the humongous library towards the abandoned romance section to see if there’s a book he can pick up; a guide on how to woo the ladies.

But what he hears at the back of the bookcases is...whimpering?

Like a detective, Taehyung pushes his lensless glasses closer up the bridge of his nose and stalks the sound. He gasps. This eyelashes bat back and forth when catches Yoonji’s backside and you - on your knees, face buried in your best friend’s crotch?!

The sound of his inhale draws attention and the both of you turn around. After a second, you peek your head out, eyes widening. “Taehyung?!” You look completely surprised and your cheeks are flushing. Yoonji, on the other hand, is completely unfazed.

“What were you-”

“My shirt was stuck in my skirt zipper.” Yoonji points to the silver zipper, lifting up the fabric sightly and flashing a bright smile. “Y/N was just helping me out.”

“Oh…” That makes sense. He nods and grins a boxy smile as he looks at you. “I was actually looking for you, Y/N! I need your help-”

Your best friend rests weight on one foot, leaning back and crossing his arms. “She’s busy.” He takes your hand and begins walking away. Taehyung nods and waves.

“I-I guess I’ll catch you later then…”

When Taehyung’s out of sight, Yoongi lightly spanks you. You gulp, scanning the premise and luckily no one’s around. He smirks and mutters in your ear, “we’re finishing this later…”

Meanwhile, Taehyung sits himself down on the floor, a stack of books next to him on how to capture women’s hearts. He reads intently for hours, soaking in the information on how to be a bad boy to a gentleman. His head throbs at the contrasting details, not sure which is credible and which isn’t. The genius hasn’t had a moment like this in his life where things didn’t make sense.

He wishes you were here right now.

“Hmm….that’s weird.” His mind trails off to the position he found the pair of you in. It’s strange, though he doesn’t know how to exactly describe why it is so.

Taehyung can’t return to work.

Not when it’s pressing on his mind. It’s odd. There’s something strange about Yoonji.

Something that Taehyung has never realized before. But he still can’t put his finger on it.

“Do you think there’s something going on with her? I mean...I just never noticed before but there’s something definitely weird.”

Namjoon chomps on his banana, putting it deep into his mouth. He chews, leaving remnants all over his skin and smearing his dirty fingers into his chaotic hair. The boy is monkey-like, giggling like an idiot. “Like what?”

“I don’t know- wait. Shut up for a second.”

“Okay.” Namjoon stops with Taehyung, continuing to eat his banana as he watches the latter man lean against the janitor’s closet with a frown.

“Is that...? I think I hear crying!” Taehyung pushes up his glasses and scratches his head. “Should we get someone?”

“Nah.” Namjoon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand in a barbaric movement. “It’s nothing. I cry in the janitor’s closet a lot too. It’s nice and cool and dark in there. Once I got stuck. I couldn’t open it for hours but I realized….I didn’t twist the door knob.”

Taehyung ignores him and knocks on the surface. He tries the knob but it’s locked. He leans in close and then it becomes silent, as if there was nothing in there at all. Did he mishear? Was his ears playing tricks on him? Maybe he was reading too much and working too much lately. That had to be it.

There’s no other logical explanation! Unless the custodian kept animals in his closet...

He brushes it off and Namjoon continues to accompany him down the hall.

“I can’t believe it…” Two girls come walking in the opposite direction, giggling to each other. “Who turns on porn that loudly? Everyone could hear it and it was like going on all night. God, there’s some real thirsty people around. Didn’t they get tired of watching?”

“I’m surprised they don’t know headphones exist. The RA almost knocked on the door but she was too embarrassed and tired to say something.” The other girl laughs, covering her mouth as she shoves her friend lightly. “But you know...it almost sounded real.”

“Pft.” Her friend rolls her eyes. “How could it be real? That’s impossible! Your imagination’s going too far.”

Taehyung’s head follows them as they disappear, bickering and gossiping with each other. He frowns, letting the words sink in, still confused. At the same time, Namjoon picks his nose, flicking it out the open window, probably onto some poor passersby outside.

“I’m going to go have lunch now!”

“Didn’t you just eat a banana?” Taehyung becomes distracted and disgusted while looking at the tall statured individual. “Do you even go to class? Do you have classes?”

Namjoon shrugs, scratching his head of hair as he makes the wrong turn to the cafeteria.

Taehyung internally and externally sighs.

The self proclaimed genius finally finds you when you’re exiting a lecture. He grins and dashes up to you. “Hey, Y/N!”

“Taehyung. It’s good to see you.” You might be dating Yoongi but you still liked to keep Taehyung around as a good friend. You’ve even spoken to Yoongi about it and he didn’t mind nor care. Your friends are your friends, it’s your decision after all. But your boyfriend did express that the idiot genius seemed to have other intentions with you which you adamantly refused.

Taehyung was your friend and that’s all there is to it.

“You know, I need your help with Yoonji! Jimin’s not going on anymore dates with her. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for!”

You smile sheepishly. “That might be a little bit difficult.”

“How so?” He lolls his head to the side in curiosity at the same time the same person you’re both discussing appears at the scene. Yoonji nonchalantly walks up to the both of you, one eyebrow cocked, hands buried within pockets.

Taehyung smiles, about to plunge at the opportunity, ask the love of his life out to dinner but as he looks at you for courage, his irises land on a blue mark plastered on your neck. “Y/N! What are those?!”

You look down before realizing the hickies and marks, covering them up hastily with your hands. “T-...They’re-!”

“She has a boyfriend now.” Your best friend interjects, smiling at you and Taehyung looks between the two of you, trying to decipher the emotions flashing on your faces. “Right, Y/N?”

“I do.”

“Oh…” Taehyung lets out a noise and then he clears his throat. “I mean...that’s great! I just didn’t know. When did it happen?”

“Recently.”

Taehyung nods. “I understand.”

You blush, a bit puzzled as to why the genius appears hurt. He looks up at your roommate, opening his mouth as if to ask something, perhaps for her to go out to dinner with him. But as Taehyung looks back at you, he grows disheartened and nods again.

“I guess I’ll see you later…”

Yoonji waves him off. “Bye!”

You pout at the retreating figure. “Bye, Taehyung!” Then you look to your boyfriend. “That was weird.”

He scoffs and kisses you on your cheek. “You’re super dense.”

You still don’t really understand.

You’re munching on a sandwich, sipping a juice box, a carton of soup by your side and a stack of toast to your left. Namjoon sits beside you, swaying back and forth as he plays some game on his phone. He gnaws on a chicken drumstick in his other hand and his phone accidentally slips from his grasps, tumbling to the tiled floor, further cracking whatever’s left of his glass screen.

You wince as he drops his arm down, searching for the device that’s near your foot, his face practically hovering over your skirt. “Hey, Y/N.”

“W-what?” You tug the fabric down and take of a sigh of relief when he finally grabs it, his nose meters away from your thighs like it should be.

“You smell a whole lot like Yoonji.” He comments without thinking much, taking another bite and playing the next round of Candy Crush.

Your entire face from your chin to your hair line turns into a shade of scarlet. “H..how do you know what Yoonji smells like?”

“I like her.” He says shortly as if it serves as the perfect explanation. “She smells like laundry….and coffee…”

“Mint and orange citrus…” You finish off without needing to debate for a single second. It’s a scent that you’ve memorized, that you find comfort in, that you’ve drowned yourself in on cold nights where the chills seeped into the window cracks.

Namjoon doesn’t question why you smell like Yoonji. He becomes distracted, a mind of a goldfish and attention span of a dog in a park with a thousand squirrels running around.

Yoongi finds you after his classes are done, grabbing lunch and seating himself across the table. You don’t say much, mind still preoccupied with your previous conversation with Namjoon. And you eat like a starved man who’s lived on a desert for centuries, focusing on gulping down all your food before your lecture begins.

“Well, aren’t you hungry?” Yoongi smiles as he stares at you, watching as you fit the rest of the sandwich in your mouth.

“I’ve been…” You clear your throat. “...working out lately.”

He smirks. “I bet you have been.”

“Wow!” Namjoon notices and he gawks at you. “You can sure fit a lot in your mouth, Y/N!”

Your boyfriend’s smirk grows even more, “she can. Can’t you, Y/N?”

You flush, rubbing and shifting your thighs together while his gaze becomes darker. Namjoon doesn’t notice. Instead, he challenges you. “I bet I can fit even more!” He peels another banana, shoving it down his throat. The two of you ignore him, having an unspoken conversation through stares.

Namjoon chokes, pounding his chest. Luckily (or not), he doesn’t die.

The professor at the front podium reads off of the textbook in a monotone voice. On any other day, you would’ve been bored to death, falling asleep with your head bobbing up and down but you’re wide awake. “Hey...Hoseok.”

The English Literature major looks up at you, having been absorbed in the poetry. “Yes?”

It’s a problem that’s been pressing on your mind for the past few days. You didn’t really have anyone to consult, anyone who would truly understand your issues. The best you had was Hoseok who seemed rather insightful and intelligent, who didn’t ask for details or pry deeper. He could give you an unbiased opinion. “It’s something about….sex drive.”

His eyes glisten and his entire body turns to you. “Ah. The lust that drives our decisions. What about it?”

“I have a friend…” You clear your throat. “Who has a friend who has a boyfriend...and this boyfriend is really sweet and kind and she loves him a lot. But the two of them are always engaged in….”

“Sex.” He says it plainly when you become embarrassed. “Go on.”

“Yes. And now my friend’s friend is worried that her boyfriend really only wants her for her body. I mean...they have a lot of sex. I’m not sure if it’s even normal. Like three or four times a day? O-...Of course, I wouldn’t know out of first hand experience but that’s what I heard.”

Your body is so sore that it isn’t even funny anymore. Everything aches. The skin around your breast, collarbones and neck is bruised in colours of blue and purple, shapes made from his lips. Your breasts, themselves, are tender and your ass is raw, hurting every time you sit down. Your thighs are inflamed, sensitive and your core still throbs. As much as Yoongi takes care of you each and every time, asking you if you’re okay...you haven’t been quite honest. You didn’t want to disappoint him after all.

“Let me read you something. I think it’ll help.” He flips through his notebook. “Lost in lust. Between bedsheets and car seats, a gust from her lips onto his member, it is a night to remember.”

You wonder where he’s going with this but Hoseok continues. “How he thrusts in deep, making her adjust to the leap. It’s enough to combust - after each and every thrust.” He exhales and shakes his head, holding in his tears. “ But alas, their lust was their destruct. For they never discussed and thus did not trust. Never spoken a single word, a proclamation of true love, and from the ocean of sex, there was nothing above.”

There’s a long second of silence. “What?”

“Communication is key.” Hoseok says plainly. “Communication.”

He should’ve just said that in the first place instead of reading out a full poem. But you guess it’s Hoseok’s passion nevertheless. As long as he doesn’t burst out crying like he usually does, you’re relieved.

The afternoon sun slowly begins to tuck itself over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and pinks, beams pressing through the glass to your shadow on the floor. You’re studying for some upcoming tests and papers or at least trying to….every other minute, you’re glancing up at the door, waiting for your roommate to return. It’s unlike Yoongi not to be here when you are and he didn’t respond to your text messages either. You can only be curious and worried to where he is.

Alas, at seven o’clock, the door creaks and you perk right up from your drowsy state. “Yoongi?”

“Hey.” He smiles, slipping off his shoes and carrying in a plastic bag. “Nice to see you too.”

“Where did you go?” You shove your books aside, letting him sit on your mattress.

“Nowhere..” Yoongi swallows and then he looks at you for a long time. Before you can inquire if there’s something on your face, he reaches over to begin unbuttoning your shirt.

“H-hey…” You lift your hands to his, nervousness eating at your skin. It hasn’t even been five minutes since his return and he wants to go at it already?! You haven’t even recovered from the morning’s roughhousing. “Yoongi..I-...”

“I went to the pharmacy.” He interrupts without realizing, unbuttoning your shirt only halfway to reveal your bruised collarbones and the marks left on your chest. “It’s soothing cream for your skin. I know I’ve been too rough with you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

His fingers lightly tap on them and he makes sure to be as gentle as possible. Your face grows warm but not in the same way as when he usually touches you. This time, your heart swells inside your chest and you feel an urge to keep Yoongi close to you, in a way that is beyond lust.

“So…” He re-buttons your shirt again, setting the container aside in case you want to apply it on your thighs or elsewhere. “I was thinking...if you wanted to go out on a date…”

“A date?”

“A proper one.” He hums. “A movie, dinner...maybe a walk in the park?”

You can’t stop your grin from taking over your face. “I never took you much for a person who likes walks in the parks, Min Yoongi.”

He scoffs and smiles, looking down at his lap and crumpling the bag together. “I’m not.”

“But maybe for you….I don’t mind.”

It’s pitch dark outside. The moon hangs in the air, allowing silver light to melt with the golden glow of lamp posts. Taehyung stretches, eyes exhausted from staring into microscopes, poking organisms in petri-dishes. He hangs the white lab coat on the hook, grabs his bag and switches off the white fluorescent lighting. He stifles a yawn, beginning to twist around the halls to make the treacherous march back to the dormitory.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you care?” The sports major huffs out, having been standing partly out of the hallway. He looks right back at him. “I was doing some last minute working out. Are you heading back?”

Taehyung nods and the other nods too. “I guess we could walk back together then. Not that I care about you or anything but it’s more convenient this way. Wait for me….or not. It doesn’t really matter to me..”

“Sure.” Taehyung’s left baffled, waiting out at the hallway and looking through the glass doors of the gym. Jungkook puts back his weights, swiping the towel off of a machine to wipe his forehead. He drapes it on his shoulder and takes his duffle back, swinging it behind him.

“Let’s go.”

The two of them walk alongside each other in awkward silence, having not much to say. Taehyung takes peeks of the other boy but doesn’t say much else until they pass by a coffee shop that’s still open. “Did you eat yet?”

Jungkook shrugs. “I guess we could grab something. Only because it’s on the way obviously.”

Taehyung smiles and opens the door. “After you…”

“Thanks.” They study the menu in some more quietness, letting the background simmer of conversations fill the in between. As they purchase their own pastries, they wait for their drinks at the counter.

“I like your glasses…” Jungkook admits and Taehyung immediately lights up. It’s like the sun has entered the orbit of his dark world, as if his soulmate has been found and his heart has begun to beat for the first time.

“Thanks!” He enthusiastically grins. “I like your face. It’s very biologically symmetrical. Did you know symmetrical faces are considered to be more attractive? It’s scientifically theorized that it may be a link to superior genes. So, I guess in a way....you have superior genetics.”

Jungkook blushes at the compliment. “You’re an idiot.” But after a full second and a skip heartbeat, he mutters back, “I like your face too. It’s also very symmetrical.”

Taehyung’s orbs double and his brown irises shine like sunshine beams. “Thanks!”

It’s an unlikely combination. Though, it’s one that oddly works well together. Jungkook ends up stripping off his jacket to throw to Taehyung when they walk back and the latter offers to help the former study if he ever needs it. Jungkook agrees but plainly because he needs the help.

There’s no other reason. Definitely.

Why do you love Yoonji?

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself time and time again. She wasn’t the kindest to you when you met nor the nicest roommate you could ever have. The girl had a sharp tongue, sassy at every single remark, biting in her words and bad-tempered. Yet, you saw underneath the facade to a more vulnerable person who cared a lot despite the venomous exterior.

She became your best friend, someone that had you hanging onto every syllable, cherishing and adoring her like an absolute queen or a sister. In turn, she doted on you, letting you get away with things that others wouldn’t even be able to suggest.

“You never called me back.” Seokjin walks with you, raising an eyebrow. “Too intimidated too? Don’t worry. For you...I’ll make an exception.” He winks and you twist your face in distaste.

Your best friend scoffs. “She’s not interested.”

His jaw drops. “What?”

Out of nowhere, Hoseok turns from the other hallway and joins, flipping through his literature book. “Y/N. Yoonji. I have this poem you should hear. Listen. The two lovers-”

“Don’t want to hear it.” Your roommate pushes the book away and Hoseok looks up suddenly, appalled that he could become silenced.

Namjoon comes barrelling down the corridor, phone in his hand, almost tripping. “Yoonji!”

“Shut it.”

Jimin pops his head out of the classroom he was studying from to see the commotion. He catches you and Yoonji together and he angelically smiles. His warm brown irises crinkle into half moons, a sweet expression that matches his cute and generous aura. He waves and you smile, waving back to him. Your heart doesn’t flutter anymore at the simple gesture.

Jungkook who was listening to music, looking out the windows, pulls out his earbuds. “Oh. Y/N and Yoonji. It’s not like I was waiting for you two or anything but have you guys seen Taehyung? Again, it’s not like I care but-”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

At that exact same time, Taehyung walks in from the outside, wearing his white lab coat and goggles on his head. He scratches his ruffled hair before his eyes move towards Yoonji. Instantly, he looks over to you and smiles. “Yoonji! Y/N!”

Jungkook steps out from the shadows. “Taehyung….” His expression is unreadable.

Taehyung blinks back at him, a turmoil of emotions that he cannot decipher clouds his once clear logic. “Jungkook. I-”

“So we’re just saying each other’s names now?” Your best friend rolls their eyes, pulling you along. “Let’s go.”

All of them come barreling towards the pair of you. Seokjin demands an explanation as to why you won’t call him, Hoseok desperately wants to read out his new poem and he’s already shedding tears, Namjoon wants to ask directions to the cafeteria and if Yoonji wants to join. Taehyung and Jungkook are just staring at each other in complete silence while Jimin watches with his elbow propped on the window ledge, chin rested in his hand, amused at the chaos.

Your roommate screams, tugging you along as you laugh. You turn the corner, disappearing in front of their eyes.

“Where did they go?!”

“Yoonji?! Yoonji!”

“Over there!”

The realization punches Taehyung’s body and soul like a freight train. It comes from nowhere. The enlightenment descends down from the Heavens, blessing his mind. He whips his neck over and gasps.

Jungkook immediately is on guard. “What’s wrong?”

“I know.” The genius mumbles, piecing together all the evidence one by one. Everything he’s heard to everything he’s seen. From the flawlessness of your best friend to how oddly silky the black strands are….as if it were fake.

The one secret of Yoonji. What you’ve been keeping hidden. It all adds up-

Yoonji’s losing her hair.

……..

Why do you love Yoongi?

No one word could ever describe or even begin to delve into it. You can’t write a list either or tens of novels because you would certainly miss something. You don’t want to reduce him to a few traits, to strung syllables spoken on tongue to try to get others to understand. It’s much more complicated than that and a lot simpler as well.

It’s in the way he gazes at you with softened irises, the shade of melted honey. How his calloused fingertips and rough hands lightly skim over your skin, cherishing you. It’s how he can still be mean but never rude, how he scoffs and flicks you, but kisses you gently. There’s something about how he holds your hand, pouts and whines, jabs at the places that tickle - how you would want to spend every second pissing him off or making him piggyback you.

You never knew your best friend could become even more important in your life.

“Why do they never leave us alone?”

“You have no one else to blame but yourself.” You scold him, looking through the crack of the janitor’s closet. He’s hovering above you, two eyes staring out. The both of you quiet down when the calls of your boyfriend’s name come closer until it fades away. “You’re too popular.”

“Trust me. I’m not the one.” He laughs and faces you, cradling your cheeks in his palms.

You beat him to the punch, leaning in to kiss him. Yoongi grins at you, a gummy smile that makes you kiss him again. “Try to be quiet this time.”

Why do you love Yoongi? You just do.

{Epilogue}

The bell chimes as the door is swung open.

“Good morning-” The girl holding the silver scissors stops in her tracks. The black strands of her hair skim over her shoulder, pink apron tied around the curves of her body. “What are you doing here?”

The boy sheepishly smiles and shrugs. “Haircut?”

She points with her comb. “What are those?”

“Just some flowers and chocolates.” Jimin looks down at his hands and he giggles. “Surprise?”

The girl with the pouty lips scoffs, rolling her eyes and acting unfazed. “Set it aside, lover boy.”

Jimin gets into the chair, wearing the black cape. His nose scrunches when the water is sprayed and he feels ticklish when the strands of his locks fall loose in front of his face after being snipped. He doesn’t notice how it’s going however, focused on gazing at the girl in the mirror’s reflection. It takes twenty minutes before it’s over and she rips the cape away, blow drying his hair quickly.

“Done.”

Jimin looks into the mirror and he’s taken back. His trim has turned into an unrecognizable style. His fringe is straightly cut and it goes all the way until the back. It’s at the same length, chopped shortly above his ears - a bowl hair cut.

“I-” Jimin stares and the girl waits for his reaction. “I love it!”

And he really does. Mainly because it’s her who did it for him.

Yoonhee sighs but a tiny smile sneaks up her lips.

#bts fanfic #THE FINAL PART!#Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays!!

762 notes · View notes

notaperfectprefect · 7 years ago

Text

Keeping up Appearances Pt. 2

Part 1 Go check out @snakekingtm and their awesome mood board

“You like it filthy, princess? I’ll show you filthy.” Billy said as he kissed down Steve’s body, finally reaching the part of Steve that currently needed the most attention. Billy licked his cherry red lips and-

“STEVEN!!!”

“AHH!” Steve yelped and shot up out of bed so fast that he fell off, bringing his silk sheets with him. He laid there, cheek resting against cold hardwood floor, blushing and catching his breath.

“Ughhh, fuck.” That was the fourth time this week that he dreamt about last Friday night. The dreams always starring himself and a certain sexy leather clad biker.

“Steven! The phone is for you!” Steve’s ears perked at the call from Greta, his maid and former nanny. He couldn’t move and instead groaned in response. Finally, because of Greta’s continuous heckling, Steve pushed himself off the floor and untangled himself from his sheets. He walked out of his room, before adjusting himself embarrassingly, and trudged down the stairs half asleep.

Greta stood holding out the phone with a frown on her face.

“Yeah yeah, it’s too late to still be in bed. I get it.” She just hmph-ed in response and walked towards the kitchen. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Hello?” he said through a yawn.

“Aye, Steve! It’s Tommy!” Steve groaned and rubbed his hand down his face. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to Tommy right now.

“Yeah, hi. What do you want?”

“Geez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the yacht.”

“Shut up. Tommy…”

“Ok, Ok I’m sorry really. Anyways I was wondering if you wanted to come with Carol and I. We’re driving down to Venice beach and can pick you up. You just gotta provide the beverages.” Steve swore he heard Carol giggling in the background and Tommy shushing her.

“Uhh…ya know Tommy today is just not a good day. I feel like I’m still hungover from Friday.” He brought his hand up to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Damn. Wait, is this about that girl from last Friday?” Steve froze. He totally forgot that he said something to Tommy Saturday morning. Although, Steve doesn’t know how Tommy interpreted girl, unless….

“Tommy, it isn’t funny!”

“OH MY GOD! YES IT IS! You had sex in your parents bedroom!” Tommy fell off the couch, cackling. Steve groaned, thinking about paying someone to get Tommy out of his life for good.

“It wasn’t sex, alright? It-we-I just got off with a super hot stranger in my parents bedroom….Ok, Yeah it does sound kinda funny.”

“SEE?!” Steve put his head in his hands thinking about Billy.

“But oh my god, you should’ve seen. The longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen, and oh god the things that tongue could do…” Tommy’s face scrunched up as he punched Steve on the shoulder.

“Sounds like you’re really hung up, huh? Come on! I got a new batch of weed from my dealer. This shit is tight!”

“Oh,” Steve said in realization.

“Well, have fun with your hard on, buddy boy! You’re going to totally miss out on some sweet edibles Carol made. She even-”

“Hey, Tommy!” Steve interrupted, an idea coming to his mind. “Where do you meet your dealer?”

“Uh, why? Ya know I can’t say that stuff Steve.”

“I know, yeah. It’s-but do you-does he….does he know any places in sketchy areas of LA where maybe bikers hang out?” Steve tried to be inconspicuous, but it didn’t work.

“What?! Steve, why do you want to go to a biker bar?”

“Nevermind, forget it. I-I’ll call you later, ‘kay?” Before he hung up the phone, he heard Carol say something in the background and Tommy respond with an ‘oh yeah.’

“Wait, okay. So, there is this one place that I know of. The address is…”

Driving down the more run down and sketchy parts of LA, Steve felt relieved that he didn’t decide to drive himself and leave his precious mercedes-benz alone for anyone to damage, or steal.

“Steven, sir. Are you sure this is the right address?” Steve’s driver, Thomas, asked warily.

“um, yeah. Just don’t worry.” Steve said to Thomas and himself, as he put a hand through his hair nervously. The car parked across the street from an old, rundown bar. The parking lot of the bar was filled with about 10 motorcycles and a few cars.

“I think this is the place. Okay, Thomas just drive around in circles and meet be back at this spot in 20 minutes.” Steve put his hand on the driver’s headrest and looked into the rearview mirror.

“Okay. Just be careful alright?” Steve quickly fixed any stray hairs and nodded back at Thomas. He open the door and ran his hands down his sweater to smooth out any wrinkles. His outfit consisted of a white button down underneath his pastel blue sweater, white collar and cuffs tucked over. His bottoms were white slacks, held up by a dark brown leather belt.

Steve jogged across the street and heard Thomas drive off. He looked down at his white silver Rolex, his mother got him for Christmas last year. Or rather his mother’s assistant. At least, the present was within a week of his actual birthday this time.

“Okay twenty minutes, Steve. You can do this.” He huffed to himself and walked towards the front door of the establishment. The music was loud and he could see the glass window of the door shake under the vibrations. Almost mirroring the last time he saw Billy. Heh. Steve opened the door and walked in.

All chatter and conversations ceased immediately with the entrance of this newcomer. Steve swallowed hard staring at big, tough guys clad in leather. Some had tattoos on their face?! Oh my god Steve, what did you get yourself into?

He awkwardly smiled before walking further into the bar. Around 16 people were currently in there. Ten or so were definitely bikers, and, from what Steve could tell from their jackets, they were Chains. Hopefully, one of them was Billy.

Since he was distracted looking around in the dark for Billy, Steve didn’t notice the bulky biker in front of him until he ran into his leather clad back.

“Oof! Oh-I’m so so-”

“What where you’re going boy!” The big biker somehow got even bigger when he stood up straight, towering over Steve. Steve gulped and closed his eyes, preparing for the worse.

“Hey! Leave him alone, Jerry!” An arm came across his chest as a body pushed in front of Steve to put distance between the intimidating biker and the lanky rich boy. Steve opened his eyes slowly to see Billy staring menacingly back at “Jerry.” Just the man he was looking for. He looked at Billy in awe, but didn’t catch Billy’s eyes glancing back over at him fleetingly.

Jerry growled at Billy and checked him with his shoulder as he walked past the two boys. Steve watched him leave and of course he had to say something stupid. I mean, it isn’t like he is surrounded by felons or anything.

“Yeah, Jerry!” Before Steve could see any reaction from Jerry, a hand grabbed the back of his sweater collar and roughly dragged him towards the empty back alley of the bar. The hand pushed Steve outside and he stumbled, before catching himself and fixing his collar.

“Geez, you didn’t have to be so rough.”

“Shut up.” Billy snarled. Steve looked back at him to find him glaring daggers at Steve, with his arms crossed.

“What’s wrong?” Steve cleared his throat, preparing for Billy to kick him to the curb. (which he kinda already did)

“You.” Billy bit out.

“M-me?!” Steve scoffed and waved his arms around incredulously. However, before Billy could open his mouth and say ‘yeah,’ Steve continued.

“No, you know what?! Something is wrong with me because I have been waking up with raging erections almost every morning this week. I mean, God! I can’t stop dreaming or thinking about you! I’m broken, you’ve broken me! I hope you’re fucking happy, biker boy!”

Steve spat out the pet name at Billy, almost mirroring the scene on Friday with Billy and Steve so close that their noses touched. Steve was breathing heavily after not breathing throughout his long tirade, watching in disbelief at how his anger seemed to make Billy’s smile grow.

“What?”

“You missed me, princess?” Billy looked down Steve’s body slowly, then brought his eyes up to look at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve blushed. Damnit! Stupid body betrayed him again. Steve brought a hand up to push back his hair, trying to disguise his obvious embarrassment bordering lust.

Suddenly Billy uncrossed his arms and grabbed Steve by his wrists. Steve once again found himself pushed against a surface. This time, the bricks were a lot less comfortable than mahogany. Billy slipped a leg in between Steve’s legs, to keep them separated. His rough hands linked their fingers together, holding Steve’s arms back against the brick wall.

Steve let out a gasp that quickly turned into a small moan, watching Billy’s tongue come out to lick his bottom lip.

“Aren’t you going to ask how i found you?”

“I’d rather use my mouth for more pressing matters.” Then Billy lips clashed with Steve’s in a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. It was rough, but god Steve missed this. Steve tried to pull his hands out of Billy’s, needing to touch him, but Billy only held on tighter and shoved his thigh into Steve’s crotch. Steve broke the kiss, finally feeling relief after all these frustratingly unsatisfying nights.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Billy chuckled against Steve’s throat and started grinding his thigh against Steve’s white slacks. Probably getting them dirty. But oh, did Steve like things filthy. Steve ground down against Billy’s thigh just as enthusiastic, almost letting out a loud, strangled moan before Billy silenced him with his mouth. Then-

BEEP BEEP BEEP

They both froze suddenly. Shit! Steve forgot he set the timer on his watch. Thomas would be waiting.

“Shit, Billy I have to go…” Steve slunk back against the bricks. Billy only responded with another mind numbing kiss, pulling Steve’s bottom lip before stepping back from the wriggling boy on the wall. Steve groaned as Billy did so, sending another rush of blood down to his already present erection. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked as he looked at the state Steve was in-messy hair, slightly tented white slacks, and red kiss swollen lips.

Steve straightened up and started to walk away before remembering something. He turned around and almost tripped, causing Billy to laugh at his clumsiness.

“Wait! I-uh…here let me give you my number.” Steve pulled a pen out of his white crew sock. Billy raised an eyebrow at the strange place to have a pen.

“AH…paper I don’t have paper.” Billy held out a hand. Steve looked down at it, then swallowed and roughly pulled the cap off the pen with his teeth. He scrabbled a list of numbers down onto Billy’s hand and capped the pen before sliding it back into his sock. Billy chuckled at something and cupped Steve’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over the right corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re funny…” Billy smiled brightly.

“Okay? So, I guess. uh, see you later.” Steve started walking away slowly. He stopped abruptly and turned back around.

“My address! do you need-wait! No you already know where I live. Right? Cuz you-we met at the-” Billy interrupted Steve’s ramblings.

“Bye, Steve.” Billy waved and headed back into the bar. Steve brought his hand up, but Billy didn’t see it.

“Bye…Billy.” Steve whispered Billy’s name to himself, before punching the air. He jogged across the street to the mercedes-benz, which he so easily found.

“Hey, Thomas!” Thomas stared at Steve as if he grew two heads.

“What? You thought I’d be dead?”

“Well, yes, and uh…” Thomas gestured to Steve’s mouth. Steve furrowed his brow and pulled the rear view mirror down.

When he bit open the pen, the pen must’ve leaked black ink onto the corner of his mouth. So, that’s what Billy had been laughing at.

“Shit.”

#harringrove #keeping up appearances au #yeah i changed steve's car fight me #but also don't because i am weak #my fic

107 notes · View notes

steamishot · 3 years ago

Text

post-trip

officially back from a vacation with my parents! it was quite a hectic schedule, so i was almost depleted of energy by yesterday. they flew in thursday - i coordinated with the tour to pick them up at the airport, and i met them there. they dropped us off at our hotel in elizabeth, NJ (arrived around 6pm) without any stop for dinner. i lyfted us to hoboken, NJ to have a pizza dinner and walk along the pier. it was my first time exploring hoboken, where my new friend S lives. we then took the PATH (my first time as well) to manhattan and walked around washington square park. it was dark by then, and there were a bunch of skaters and people partying/smoking weed lol. we just took a few photos and then went back to NJ.

friday: visited philly and washington DC. this day was packed but it was probably the most fun. the ratio of landmarks/sights to see to driving time was the best on this day. unfortunately, the congress was closed so we couldn’t do a tour like i did last time. however, we got to see it from the outside and other beautiful landmarks that i didn’t get to see previously. we also caught the sunset at the thomas jefferson memorial. our tour for this was about 15 people - mostly southeast asian (vietnamese, burmese, thai) and indian families. we were the only ones who spoke chinese. our tour guide was chinese burmese.

saturday: did the most driving this day. drove from DC area to niagara falls with stops in corning and seneca lake. picked up more people for this and had 36 on the bus. we had mcdonalds for lunch and even worse food for dinner. they brought us to the welcome center food court for dinner. by the time we arrived, there was only a couple restaurants open, and they’re all janky fast food places. we got something similar to panda express for like double the price. they sold bad boba for $8! and a combo plate for like $16! i thought it was a tourist trap made for tour buses like ours, but the building was located right across from the niagara falls state park. i found it odd that there was such a trashy food court for niagara falls. since the day was mostly on the road, my dad said it wasn’t fun. luckily, we got to go on a niagara falls night tour which was quite beautiful. it was a great way to end the long day.

sunday: visited the niagara gorge and whirlpool. we did a jet ski boat ride in the whirlpool, which felt like a roller coaster ride. my dad had a ton of fun on this haha but i didn’t particularly like it. it was too much rocking around and it made me have to go #2 afterwards. after this, we visited old fort niagara and lake ontario. then we did the maid of the mist boat ride to see the falls up close. this was the highlight of the niagara falls stop for me. it was such an incredible sight and fun to wear ponchos alongside everyone. the rest of the day was spent driving back to NYC area - we were dropped off at NJ.

monday: NYC tour - 6 people. the day started off well with a tour around wall street and one world trade center. everyone was in a good mood. afterwards, the tour guide informed us that the boat for statue of liberty was being repaired and we won’t be able to go. everyone was deeply disappointed as it was the main thing that they wanted to see in NYC. the mood turned sour and one of the vietnamese ladies complained to the company. we went to visit time square, united nations, 5th ave, ate ichiran, empire state building, and the MET. when my friend gabe came to visit earlier in the month, he mentioned that he couldn’t find statue of liberty tickets either so i thought the tour was telling the truth. however, i checked online and found that i was able to book tickets immediately. fortunately, i was able to book tickets for tues morning. there was so much drama revolving the statue of liberty - my guess is that since the tour for that is so long (~2-3 hours), it wouldn’t be profitable for the tour guides to take us, assuming they would have to find and pay for parking and there were just 6 of us. anyhow, we ate thai food for dinner and visited central park. i had planned on taking my parents on a gondola ride but things happened with the reservation (and also my parents were not interested at all - apparently the lake looks ugly to them) so we ended up not going. instead, we took the subway to my apartment! they were able to say hi to matt for a bit and see the rooftop. they looked like they felt sorry that i lived in such a small apartment lol. afterwards, we went to our hotel in chinatown to check in. it was dark by then ~8:30pm and chinatown seemed a bit more sketchy. we stopped by a convenience store in the area to buy some water. the guy at the register (very young - late teens/early 20s) was doing a line of coke when we walked in lol.

tuesday: this was our free day without the tour. i was the tour guide basically. we finally got to go to the statue of liberty and were actually the first to board the first boat at 9:30am! long story, but the vietnamese sisters we were with (ages 68 & 70 who were very quick and active for their age) were on the last day of their tour. their tour guide was trying to again dissuade them from going on the statue of liberty tour. my dad was kind enough to send them the info when we got to the site, and we let them know that they have ferries every 30 min and the line was not long at all. by fate, they ended up being the last ones to board our ferry and we reunited. afterwards, we hopped on their tour bus (since they “owed” us for the mishap yesterday) and asked them to drop us off in chinatown for lunch. we all ate pho at a vietnamese shop together. then, we parted ways. my parents and i walked a bit more around chinatown and then returned to our hotel. we then lyfted to my apartment and i sent them off to the airport afterwards via subway.

i felt relief after they left haha, since my host duties were done, and i look back on our pictures fondly. i’m so happy that my parents were able to come see the east coast. they kept saying that they’ve been wanting to go to niagara falls for 40 years (and NYC/statue of liberty) but just never made it happen. as we all grow older, i feel like i’m taking more responsibilities as their caretaker. i worry about them more often, like when i sent them on the subway to the airport scared that they were gonna encounter something bad on the subway or get lost. i had to rewear some of the same clothes this trip and felt so dirty. it was also difficult bc we switched hotels every single night. too much packing and unpacking. it felt like a lot of mental work for me taking care of my parents, figuring out the food, transportation, logistics, etc. i was hungry quite a few times during our tour (could be also due to my pickiness - i prefer to eat well during vacation instead of fast or processed food). during covid, the hotel’s breakfast was very limited. overall, i think going on the tour was a good choice for my parents instead of going on a trip ourselves. they enjoy meeting new people - it would’ve been too boring if it was just us three. however, if i were to do this trip again, i most likely would want to find a car to drive myself lol. would like to go back to DC and explore more! we took a toooon of pictures.

0 notes

captainsimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Kill ‘Em With Kindness - FINALE

Bucky Barnes x Reader

You had been detected. You were now on their radar. You are recruited for one mission only. You are trained and put to the test. With your background, everyone realizes it was a mistake recruiting a college student who would soon be faced with the one thing that drove her to kill in the first place.

Warnings: swearing; violence; angst; FLUFF

Word Count: 3.5k+

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen... I want to ruin you.”

“You’re too late.”

A/N: Oh my god! Thank you so much for reading my story (literally my first fanfic EVER) and thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback! I’m sorry that this is long overdue but it was worth it. Your love for “Kill ‘Em With Kindness” makes me so grateful and blush-y. I hope you enjoy the finale and read my future fanfics! I love youuuu! xxx

FINALE

“You’ve got to take it,” Bucky stated, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned off the edge of the bed. You whipped your head at him and stopped pacing, staring at him in pure astonishment. You had been thinking about this decision for two days. The decision was ultimately yours in the end but Bucky’s opinion was very important to you.

“I know,” you sighed, sitting beside him and grabbing his hand. “But they’re only offering me a place because I have connections.”

“Then don’t take it.” You rolled your eyes and Bucky chuckled.

“Y/N, the choice is yours. This is a great opportunity and I know it seems sketchy that they want you after your ‘connections’ were revealed but you have to take it.”

“It just sounds dirty,” you whined, falling into his lap. “Like I’m being handed these things.”

Bucky ran his metal fingers through your hair, careful of the tangled strands. He watched your eyebrows scrunch and relax and your chest rise and fall, thousands of emotions embracing him. The second you got off the phone, Bucky had made up his mind. He didn’t want you to go, hell, he didn’t want you to go anywhere ever if he wasn’t guaranteed to see you and touch you at the end of every day.

“Steve sometimes gets free bagels at the café down the street,” Bucky said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. You giggled and climbed over him, straddling his hips.

“I don’t fight with you guys anymore, though.” Bucky nodded and stared at the ceiling. You stayed in this position for a few minutes, staring at each other and playing with the loose strands of thread from your shirts. Finally, Bucky spoke and his words stole the air from your lungs.

“You have to accept.“

You gave a small gasp and climbed off, lying beside him and turning his face toward you. “What did you say?”

“You have to accept, Y/N. It’s your passion. Always has been, even before I came into your life.”

You traced his cheeks with abnormal shapes, your brain still trying to comprehend his explanation. In all honesty, you had no idea what to say to this. Were you going to leave again? Or give up on your previous goals in life for the love of your life?

“I don’t want to undermine your reasoning, Bucky,” you whispered, studying his blue eyes closely. “But what do you think Lucy would say?”

Bucky smiled slightly and tugged you into his chest, kissing the top of your head and rubbing small circles into your back. You relaxed instantly, inhaling his addictive scent and shutting your eyes.

“She would want you to choose your own path in life. Stay here with us, me, and protect the world? Or further your education and become an expert in various human cultures to make the world a better place?”

You grinned at his words, snuggling deeper into his chest. “I’m not even formally a part of the Avengers, yet. There’s paperwork and shit.”

Bucky laughed loudly and looked down at you with pure adoration in his sad eyes. He had made up his mind. Now, it was time for you to do the same.

_____

“No, no. There are two dots there,” you instructed, taking the pencil from Peter’s hand and fixing his mistake. Peter groaned loudly and threw his head back.

“You sound like Aunt May.”

You sat dumbfounded with your mouth hanging open. Without thinking, you pushed his notebook off the kitchen counter and just stared at him like he was going to be the one to pick it up.

Peter smirked at you, “I get this shit at school so no, I’m not picking that up.”

You frowned in defeat and hopped off the stool to retrieve his notebook. “Question.”

Peter hummed and grabbed the notebook from your hands.

“Why don’t you just web the bullies to the wall?” you asked, placing an extra pencil in between your front teeth. Peter’s sudden guffaw had you laughing like an idiot as well and soon the two of you were hunched over and out of breath.

“They don’t touch me. It’s verbal abuse, mostly.” You frowned at this and were suddenly overcome with anger. As innocent as his exterior depicts, how could someone verbally abuse Peter? you thought.

”Let me guess,” you sighed, taking the pencil from his hands once again and correcting his mistake. You grinned at his tiny whine. “You kill them with kindness?”

Peter smiled brightly and stole the pencil back. “Best advice you ever gave me!”

Your private Morse code lesson with Peter seemed to fly by in an instant. Throughout the lesson, however, your mind was a little occupied. While Peter was packing up his things and getting ready to head back home, you contemplated whether to ask him the question you had been struggling with for the past two days. When he zipped up his backpack, you spit it out.

“I got accepted into Boston University. I leave in a week.”

Peter let his backpack fall off his arm and hit the floor. You shut your eyes and bit your lip, the silence now uncomfortable. You opened one eye to see his reaction.

“That’s great.”

You opened both eyes and furrowed your eyebrows. “You want me to go?”

Peter quickly shook his head, “No, I mean- that’s great! I want you to stay but this is a great opportunity!”

You frowned a little, the response one that you weren’t expecting. Peter had said the same thing that Bucky did- It’s a great opportunity!

“But, I just came back.”

“Are you trying to find an excuse to stay?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t know.” You bent over the counter and lay your chin in your palms.

“Y/N,” Peter said, walking back over to the counter and leaning on it. “Boston University is big step-up for what you’re studying. Being an Avenger is cool and all, it’s fucking fantastic!”

You giggled and felt your eyes swell up.

Peter continued, “But you have to think this through. You never planned on this. On fighting, on the Avengers, not even Bucky.”

His words were stabbing you in the right places and even though it hurt like hell, they needed to be said and you had to listen.

“Lucy didn’t believe in falling in love at the wrong time. She thought it was fate,” you mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Don’t throw away your dreams after you worked so hard to grab them.”

“What if I have more than one dream?” you whispered, handing the sixteen-year old boy your last bit of sanity.

Peter gave you a small smile, “No one said you can’t have them all.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and were about to ask how that was possible to achieve, but he quickly pulled you in for the longest hug you had ever had the blessing of receiving.

_____

“It’s not rocket science,” you chuckled, standing in front a glass container that held the few remains of Australopithecus Afarensis. Bucky wiped his face and turned to you, giggling when he saw your amused expression.

“She’s called ‘Lucy’,”you smiled at the glass case. Bucky smirked against your temple, closing his eyes and nodding.

“Seems right,” he mumbled. You nodded and grinned wider.

“You study this stuff for fun?” he teased, grabbing you by the hips and placing small kisses over your right cheek.

You hugged him tighter, “The origin of man and our human ancestors are very interesting things to learn about. I like bones in general. The older, the better.”

Bucky couldn’t contain the next string of smiles that painted across his face. Seeing you walk around and point to all the exhibits you could explain without looking at the small cards at the side had Bucky feeling the plethora of butterflies he only felt when around you.

You led him through the rest of the museum for the next hour, the gleam of fascination in Bucky’s eyes never once deteriorating.

Moments like these were precious. The world recognized that because the moment you two left your temporary haven, Tony’s all too-familiar suit almost swept you off your feet. You stepped back quickly and pushed Bucky out the way when Tony was thrown back to the sidewalk.

“Tony!” you screamed, running up to him and pulling him up from the shoulders. Bucky sprinted down the street and joined the action. It is his job after all.

“Bruce, green- all that good stuff,” Tony grunted, standing on his feet and taking off once again. You simply stood there and gripped onto your knives that remained strapped to your hips. You couldn’t help in this situation unless you wanted to end up a part of the sidewalk.

All around you, however, stood the citizens of New York- half of them with their phones out and the rest running from the terror.

The breath almost got knocked out of you when you were lifted from the ground and swung left and right. Peter gently placed you on a rooftop, pulling his mask off and looking at you with an apologetic look.

“Who pissed him off?” you yelled, confusion written all over your face.

“This just happens sometimes,” Peter shrugged, looking over the edge to see if the coast was clear to swing you to the next building. He did so, checking repeatedly for danger.

“No? Someone did or said something! Bruce is actually the chilliest out of everyone on the team!”

Peter’s eyes widened, signaling it was time to swing you again. You landed safely and groaned once more.

“These things just happen, Y/N. They just do,” Peter sighed, repeating his heroic actions.

You pushed him away from you slightly when you landed once again, looking over the edge as well. “So, now what? He destroys half the city and we sleep peacefully tonight?”

“Y/N-”

“I’m just tired. I was having a good day and then I was reminded what world we live in,” you sighed.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, “It’s not his fault this happened.”

“I wasn’t blaming Bruce,” you rolled your eyes. “I was blaming the universe, in general.”

Peter nodded, “I’m tired of the bad things, too.”

His word choice surprised you. ‘Bad things’ was interesting considering that was what happened every single day. However, the word ‘tired’ was one to be dissected. You leaned back and stood there with an expression of realization and Peter saw this. Almost instantly, he nodded to agree with your internal thoughts.

“You need to go.”

You hesitantly looked over the rooftop and flinched slightly when you saw Bruce had shrunk back down. His face gave you your answer. With a grim expression tainting his innocent face, Bruce emerged from the rubble he created and ducked from the incoming bullets. Tony flew down and grabbed him from his armpits, shielding him and flying him over the city to the compound. You breathed in slowly and followed the rest of your teammates as they also emerged from shops and rubble.

Your eyes scanned rapidly for one person in particular.

“He’s right there, Y/N,” Peter whispered, holding your hand tightly. A silent whimper scratched your throat, clawing through your vocal cords and caused Peter to tighten his grip. You fell to your knees and breathed in slowly, finding solace in Peter’s arms.

You looked up and locked eyes with a distressed Bucky. A few beats pass and the words you were always unknowingly practicing since you were given the choice slip from your trembling lips.

“I need to leave.”

_____

“Do you promise to FaceTime me every day?” Peter asked, his words slightly muffled by your hair. You let him go and wiped your eyes.

“I promise,” you chuckled. You moved onto Natasha, gripping her shoulders tightly and studying her face. “You are so beautiful.”

Natasha cracked a small smile before she tugged you into her chest. “Stay safe out there, Y/N. You deserve to be happy.”

You sniffed and let her go, kissing her on the cheek before moving on to Wanda, Thor, and Vision. “Thanks for saving my life a couple of times.”

They all chuckled and pulled you in for a group hug.

“You saved us plenty as well,” Thor said, handing you a bouquet of flowers he presented from behind his back. A choked sob left your lips and you blushed dramatically, thanking him repeatedly.

Tony shook his hips, “You aren’t going to forget your favorite superhero, are you?”

You rolled your eyes and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek as you detached. “You aren’t going to forget your third favorite assassin, are you?”

Tony clicked his tongue, “So, you’re admitting you’re an assassin?”

Rolling your eyes once more, you moved onto Sam and Clint. “I’m coming back, oh my god!“

Sam sniffed a couple more times and looked away. “I’m not expressing shit.”

Clint held his arms open for a group hug so you embraced the two men. Your constant giggling and sniffles made their hearts swell and the realization that they wouldn’t be teasing you during breakfast or in the middle of night fell upon them.

“Hey, big guy,” you whispered to Bruce, giving him a small smile. He reciprocated and pulled you in. The moments were getting shorter and the last two people you had to say goodbye to were rocking on their heels.

Steve wiped the sides of his eyes briefly and hugged you tightly, lifting you off the floor and twirling you around like the airport scenes in any movie. He set you down and released you after what felt like minutes in mid-air. His eyes tore through you and violently jabbed at your crumbling heart.

“You can always visit,” he muttered, swiping his thumb underneath your eye. You nodded and raised yourself up on tippy-toes, kissed his cheek, and whispered a gentle ‘thank you for everything.’

The moment you were dreading finally came. Bucky chuckled when he saw your shoulders hunch ever so slightly. “You know, I’m the one driving you, doll.”

You laughed and leaned your head on Bucky’s chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “Oh, I can’t say goodbye at all.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you in closer, resting his chin on top of your head. “Was that everyone?”

“Minus Rhodes, but he’s on a mission.” Bucky nodded and let you go.

“Well, you should get going,” Tony clapped his hands, turning away from everyone before they saw his eyes watering. You smirked at this but kept it a secret. The thought was all that counted.

“Thanks for everything, guys. Even if things didn’t turn out perfectly, the experience was somewhat different.”

Everyone said their goodbyes once again and before you knew it, you were alone in the car with the love of your life, who was driving you farther and farther from your happy yet catastrophic ending.

_____

“It’s small,” you giggled, setting your suitcases down in the empty living room. Bucky agreed and pulled in the rest of your stuff. You breathed in the clean air and smiled a little, looking out your window at the college campus you would soon wander.

Bucky kept his metal fingers hooked through the latch of his keys, an internal debate of whether he should leave now or in a couple hours rattling his brain.

“It’s pretty late,” you mumbled, turning to him with sad eyes. With a simple lock of the eyes, the two of you knew the hard part was approaching.

Bucky rested his metal hand on your cheek while his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck. You leaned into the motion, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “I love you so much.”

Your face contorted slightly and you gripped his wrist, bringing each individual finger to your mouth for a gentle peck. “I love you, too.”

Bucky tried so hard to keep his sobs at bay and for the first time in a long time, he succeeded.

“I’ll call,” Bucky uttered, letting you go and searching your eyes for any signs of denial. Of course, your eyes were swimming with it. However, you said nothing and kissed his lips for reassurance.

“I’ll be expecting it.” He leaned in for another kiss. You felt the fireworks that exploded from your first kiss on the compound balcony. You could feel your red dress hugging your waist and the suit clutching Bucky’s shoulders. You could feel the taps in your knuckles from all the words you had formed. You could feel the cold tile of Bucky’s dark room and the feeling of his clean, white sheets. You could feel the void you had spent a whole three weeks filling and the sorrow you ignored for the entire year you were away. You felt everything at once and the feeling was chaotic.

“Come back to me,” Bucky said against your lips, drinking in the last taste of them as you separated. Neither of you said anything else and instead, the last moments of the night included tight hugs and kisses and the silent clink of your new front door closing in Bucky’s tearful face.

_____

Bucky clutched the steering wheel as lightly as he could, afraid that if his true emotions seeped through he would accidentally yank it off. All that was heard were his tiny whimpers and the sound of the car on the freeway.

To say his heart was broken would be the understatement of the century. The pain he felt was nowhere near any other he had experienced- not when he fell from the train, not when he lost his life, not even when you left the first time. It was a pain that no one could fully understand unless they had felt it, too. It was a pain that was singular and unique, one that was also grand and careless. The world was a nasty place and everyone knew this. It was how you managed to survive in it that determined your next path in life.

The lines of the three lanes in front of his car merged into one whole road as Bucky’s eyes swelled and watered. Although this was the right choice and the most reasonable, he would never forgive himself for letting you go this last time.

The sound of a horn snapped Bucky out of his trance and he swerved his car slightly to the right. He gasped and caught his breath. With the furrowed eyebrows and a face of conclusion, he brushed off the hazy view of a middle finger pointed at him and reached for his phone. Quick looks to the road and constant stumbling over the buttons, he dialed Tony’s number with a slight smirk painted across his face.

“You’ve got Tony,” Bucky heard Tony’s answer.

Bucky grinned and spoke without missing a beat, “I quit.”

”Um, pardon?”

Bucky began laughing, “I quit! I retire!”

Tony coughed awkwardly, “You don’t really take that up with me but rather the United States government-”

“Tony!“

Bucky laughed, tears happily streaming down his blushing face. His decision was final and he wouldn’t have made it without Steve’s approval. But Bucky knew, he knew for certain, that Steve wanted the best things in life for his Bucky.

He heard Tony chuckle slightly, “So, you quit?”

Bucky exited the freeway and quickly swerved through traffic to turn around. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.“

His smile couldn’t shine brighter. Tony laughed along with him and finally uttered, “Go get her.”

Bucky could faintly hear cheers in the background, presumably from Peter and Ned.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” he heard Ned exclaim before he ended the call and dropped his phone on the passenger seat.

______

Unaware of all of this, you sat on your new couch quietly. Bored out of your mind, you peeled the skin around your fingers, doodled on paper, and even scrolled through Twitter for a bit. There wasn’t much happening and in all honesty, you wanted to crawl into bed and die.

It was eating you alive as well. Falling from grace and unable to catch anything on the way down. The feeling of loneliness consumed you inch by inch until you were choking back sobs and cleaning your puffy cheeks. During one particular hard sob, however, the ‘ding’ from your phone startled you.

’BITCH, OH MY GOD!’

You began typing a couple question marks to Natasha. Your confusion was interrupted when the sound of heavy knocks shook your front door.

“.. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. . ...- . .-. / .-.. . - / -.-- --- ..- / --. --- / .- --. .- .. -. .-.-.-” I will never let you go again.

“Oh my god,” you silently cried, unraveling yourself from your blanket and rushing to the door.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, hands shaking when you rushed into Bucky’s arms.

He lifted you up and twirled you around. The overwhelming amount of happiness you were immediately drowned with emitted from you to the equally ecstatic person wrapped around you.

“You don’t have to take me but you’re damn certain I’m staying because you.“

You pulled away and cupped Bucky’s face. “You’re staying? What ab-“

“I quit. I retired. Honorably discharged, whatever,” Bucky chuckled, drinking in your surprised expression. “I’m staying here with you.“

“Bucky...” you whispered but he cut you off.

“I’m staying with you. If you’ll have me.“

You smiled a glorious smile, one with teeth and gums and giggles spilling through. “I was about to succumb to the darkness.”

“I’ll join you.”

Almost as if it was sign or a lucky coincidence, falling in love at the wrong time didn’t seem so unexpected and hurtful as you once presumed it to be. Over the course of one year you lost everything and gained much more.

You leaned forward on your tippy-toes and pressed your lips to his. He delivered the passion he had been bottling up for the past hour.

He picked you up and shut the front door with his heel, ready to prove just how much he had missed you on that short yet informative drive.

Bucky set you down briefly and stared at your face, his emotions scattered but readable. He sighed, “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen... you’ve ruined me.“

You rolled your eyes slowly, pulling him for another overdue kiss. “It’s your turn.“

And with that, Bucky accepted the challenge of not ruining your soul, but replenishing it with the love temporarily trapped inside of him for seventy years. “Go ahead, now.”

The stripping of layers, the decomposition of oneself, the realization of good versus evil, and the final solutions to dreams and aspirations seemed to evolve into something larger. Each were no longer temporary.

They were permanent.

This was permanent.

THE END.

TAG LIST:

@4theluvofall @chipilerendi @purplekitten30 @buckyappreciationsociety @owhatshername1 @g0back2bed @katykyll @shaexoox @polkadottedpillowcase @jonnavgl @thefridgeismybestie @sumafamouxx @bunnymother93 @huntermichelle @s8sense @lovable-harmonica @almondbuttercup @wowiebro @secondsandstars @potterssuperhero @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @ihavemymomentsstill

141 notes · View notes