#i’ve tried to be so practical and positive about this move and i’m trying to like

[luveline]

hotch's sister x spencer where hotch notices she's wearing spencer's clothes?

—You and Spencer get one another in trouble with your older brother. fem!reader, 1k

Your brother, though you’re adopted, has passed down onto you many things. Mostly his frown, but more embarrassingly his high-pitched giggle when something is startlingly funny. 

You laugh like a hyena at something Spencer’s said. He tries to grab you before you walk straight into his desk corner, but he’s too slow. You whack your hip and laugh again, this time in pain, bending over to grab at your wound in defeat. 

“Oh my god,” he says, trying not to laugh loudly, his efforts turning his own laugh into a giggle like yours as he bends down to see you, “are you okay?” He laughs so much he can barely ask. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeeze between a laugh, letting him pull you into a standing position. 

“What is it?” he asks, grabbing your hip, which worsens your laughter all over again. “What?” 

“You’re super handsy, Dr. Reid.” 

A sharp clearing of the throat echoes. You tense up, begging Spencer mentally not to give you away, but his hand practically flies back into his chest like you’ve burned him. 

You turn to the office. “Hi, Aaron.” 

Aaron Hotchner stands at the balcony overlooking the bullpen where you and Spencer stand. “Honey. Just give me two minutes and I’ll come down, okay?” 

You give a big smile. “Yes, sir.” 

His eyes move to Spencer. You watch Aaron decide to leave it alone and can’t help laughing for the hundredth time today as your brother turns around to head back into his office.

“He’s ridiculous.” 

“He’s gonna fire me,” Spencer says, though he doesn’t sound serious. 

“And then you can come work with me.” 

Spencer doesn’t want to work at your new job, that much is clear from his expression, but he has enough social wits to realise you’re flirting. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” he says.

Spencer leans back against his desk, hair curled just under his ears, his hand reaching for you though he doesn’t touch. You sit down in his seat, the backs of your thighs sticking to warm leather. You aren’t working today, hence your social visit, and Spencer had distracted you on the way to Aaron’s office (through no fault of his own, you’d just wanted to see him again) with a shy wave. Like you hadn’t spent yesterday night together walking through fountains. 

You didn’t mean to fall in. Spencer helped you up onto the round basin of the fountain and you’d held hands, walking in circles so he’d have an excuse to keep rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. Seconds turned to minutes, the conversation unhurried, and one wrong move had you slipping. You fell calf deep into cold water, but his laughter had been worth it. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. 

You cross one leg over the other, your jean leg riding up your shin. “I’m thinking about what Aaron’s gonna buy me for lunch.” 

“What do you want?”

“I have no idea. It’s so hot out I barely wanna eat.” 

“Well, too bad, you have to.” He picks up a file from his outgoings and fans it at you nicely. When he talks again, his voice is lowered. “I was thinking, if you’re not busy, they have a movie playing in a couple of days at the independent, I think it’s in Portuguese, and I really think you’d like it.” 

“Yeah?” you ask, lavishing in the cold kiss of his manufactured breeze and the idea of another date. 

“About a little girl that turns into a star. They have popcorn bigger than anywhere else I’ve seen, too. Enough for three people in one bucket.” 

You try not to act too shy. “Well, hopefully it’s just me and you.” 

Spencer smiles at you between waves of his fan. “Is your hip okay?” he asks. 

“Spencer.” 

“Are you ready?” Aaron asks. 

You spin in Spencer’s chair toward your brother, shocked he’s there. He’s been funny since you and Spencer met, never controlling or cruel, yet clearly having a tough time coming to grips with the connection you’ve formed with his smartest employee. 

When you told him Spencer had given you his number, his eye twitched ever so slightly, and he excused himself for a glass of water. You’re not sure what is about the situation that irks him: he loves you, he loves Spencer in his way, he’d do anything for both of you, except acknowledge your burgeoning relationship. 

You nod but don’t stand. Your hip aches weirdly and the sitting is nice. Plus, it’s a sisterly duty to wind up her brother, even if you love him more than anybody on planet earth. 

“Spencer was just telling me about your accident in Scottsdale.” 

“He was,” Hotch says. He looks at you, and his eyes follow down the line of your leg to your shoes, where they stay. 

You glance down. 

“I’m trying something new,” you say, sitting up quickly. Scottsdale doesn’t seem so funny. 

“I can see that.” 

You’re wearing Spencer’s socks, odd ones sticking up past his borrowed converse. “It’s summer,” you say, standing up. 

“Mm.” He gestures for you to stand in front of him, his hand on your shoulder kind but firm as he steers you away. “And the odd socks, that’s a conscious choice?” 

“Don’t be mean.” 

“I’m not.” 

You glance back at Spencer and grin at him as you’re shepherded away. Hopefully he’ll call you later, but for now he looks like he’d like to dig himself a shallow grave.

“We went for a walk last night and I ruined my shoes,” you explain, turning your gaze to Aaron and his reluctant smile. “They were still wet this morning.” 

“What about those loafers I got you for your birthday?” he asks. 

“Well, I didn’t have them with me.” 

Aaron nods. There’s a certain impassiveness to his expression that you’re familiar with, even if it signifies disappointment. That you’re not so used to. 

“I thought you liked Spencer?” you ask. 

“I do. But I love you, and he’s…” 

“He’s what?” 

“At risk.” 

“You’ll just have to keep him safe for me,” you say, smiling at him breezily. 

Aaron seems to agree silently. You’re almost to the elevators when he says, “Please, wear your own socks. I know you know how to do your laundry, I’m the one who taught you how to do it.” 

[cowboysmp3]

everything is going good and great <- boy who is lying

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 3

in which sexy construction worker!rafe is very grateful when shy!reader offers to help with his tense shoulders...

18+ mdni!

c/w: construction worker!rafe in a desperate need of a massage, fluff, some heavy making out, slight dry-humping, suggestive

wc: 1.4k

meant to write something cutesy but knowing them it turned into something filthy (who's surprised) hope you enjoy xx

part 2 & part 4 part 5

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

Rafe has had a tedious workday on the construction site. The ardent sun making him melt like ice under the searing yellow rays and the clock ticking as if it was an ancient turtle not helping one bit.

Even after he’s washed the sweat and the dirt off and changed into a clean pair of clothes, his shoulders are strained; muscles aching and legs hurting.   

Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch his face scrunches up into a pained expression. It makes her furrow her brows, asking what’s wrong with worry painting over her features.  

“Nothing, just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back, trying to alleviate the soreness that’s tormenting him; disturbing him from the movie they’re trying to watch as they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” She suggests, wanting to make him feel better.  

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the television.  

“No, but Rafe you’re hurting…I wanna help,” there’s a slight pout forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film.  

He turns the sapphires of his eyes to face her. The look she’s giving him tugs at his heartstrings and for a moment he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him.  

“Yeah? Wanna help me?”  

She nods. 

Then he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa; presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her.  

“Also, I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says as she scoots closer, raising on her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame. 

“You give massages to a lot of people?” He asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her. 

“No, I just meant when I was little me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns. But now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains.  

“Good,” is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter.  

She then settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t shirt, digging into his skin; feeling the sturdy muscle under her fingertips.  

“You want me to take my shirt off? So it’s easier?” He casually suggests and her cheeks heat up. 

“Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl up as he plucks at the collar of his shirt, exposing solid back muscles and soft skin to stare back at her.  

She blinks.  

Hesitantly, she rests her hands on top of his shoulders once again and begins kneading her fingers into his brawny structure.  

A heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, making her swallow at the lewd sound as she continues to press into the parts that feel the most strained.  

“Just tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him beginning to unspool under her ministrations.  

He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone.  

However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a low-pitched noise from the back of his throat, sounding almost obscene to her ears; reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago.  

It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter.  

“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts out, closing his eyes in ecstasy. He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow.  

He’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. He feels so relaxed he could almost fall asleep. 

She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh for some time until her fingers begin to feel so sore, she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop.  

“Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes and he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his grateful countenance.  

“It’s all good, feels so much better now. Thanks, Sweetheart,” he says while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis; no hint of any sort of agony in sight.  

“Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?”  

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue is peering down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.  

“That was nothing. I mean, it was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.” 

“I’m serious, you just spent almost an hour turning my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs.  

“What— what do you mean?” Her breath hitches.  

“What I’m saying is, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you grinding yourself on top of me, you know?” He says as he lifts his left arm in order to tuck a loose strand of her behind her ear; fingers lingering on her jawline. 

She freezes, not sure how to respond as his thumb strokes along her cheekbone and he tips her face up with an index finger tucked under her chin.  

“Was so caught up in it all, forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?” 

“You mean…right now?” Her eyes round out, barely managing to shove the words out from the gaps of her teeth.  

“Unless, you have somewhere else to be?” The edges of his mouth tilt and when she shakes her head, he leans closer, pressing his lips on hers in a tender kiss.  

However, when a faint noise of surprise escapes her, he deepens it; warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open.  

When she eventually does, he slips his tongue in, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing.  

Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as she holds his face in her palms. He paws at her waist, bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap with a steady grip on her hips.  

She’s straddling his thighs as his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth as he continues to swallow her up.  

“There we go, Sweetheart. That’s a lot better, yeah?” He murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.  

Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her thighs becoming sticky and mind wandering in a hazy vapor.  

“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin.  

The slight pain makes her whine and then he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer, pillowy lips smearing on hers all wet and messy; turning her into a moaning jumble, trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth.  

All of a sudden, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins ringing. It makes her jump in surprise; nearly falling off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright, not missing a beat.  

He lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips and presses a few sweetened pecks on them, reluctantly pulling away. His heavy panting fills her ears for a few seconds as she tries to even out her own rickety respiration.  

Then he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing up on his feet; a disconcerted pout following his movements.  

“Shit, better go check on the food so it doesn’t burn, yeah?” He’s sporting a lazy, taunting smile as he offers his right palm to her; lifting her up on unsteady legs that try their best to follow him like a needy kitten as he disappears into the kitchen that bathes under the burnt orange of the setting sun.  

[lesservillain]

dream a little dream of me.

sleep demon!eddie munson x afab!reader

cw: SMUT. breeding kink, monster!eddie, readers body is “changed”(I think thats it?)

You’re tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep thanks to the ache between your legs. You already tried getting yourself off to no avail, so sleeping it off was your plan b.

You didn’t know why you’d been so horny lately. All day you’d be thinking about being taken over your work desk or in the coffee shop bathroom. Wet dreams plagued your mind every night of a beautiful man making love to you had left you with wet sheets from how hot and bothered you were getting even in your sleep.

But no matter how much you tried to satisfy yourself, it just wasn’t enough.

Just as you were about to drift off, the mattress dipping caught your attention. You lived alone, besides your cat, so you just assumed it was them joining you in the bed. That was until it continued to dip, pushing down deep indicating that whatever was on your bed was much heavier than your cat.

You froze in fear, trying to regulate your breathing to make it seem like you were still asleep. Your mind raced as you tried to think of what to do.

“I know you’re awake.”

You stopped breathing. You felt your heart pounding on your chest as you panic.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not here to hurt you,” the voice said, sounding less distorted and more like the voice of…

Slowly you turned to look behind you. Sitting on the edge of your bed was the man of your dreams. His soft eyes met yours, his smile turning toothy when you realized it was him.

Were you dreaming right now? It didn’t feel like it. Maybe you were lucid dreaming?

You didn’t have much more time to think about it as he placed a hand on your cheek. It felt as if he really were touching you, and you felt conflicted with that fact.

“I missed you, sweet girl,” he coos at you. “I hate it when you leave me.”

He leans down, stopping just short of kissing you. His eyes flash for a moment, looking almost red compared to his normal color.

When you don’t protest, he closes the gap between you, letting your lips slot together perfectly in a deep kiss. His mouth moves against yours and you reciprocate, feeling as if its the natural thing to do.

As the kiss deepens you feel his hands slowly start to roam your body. He feels you up, his hands landing on your breasts, squeezing and fondling until you hum against his lips. The man smiles against you.

He pulls away, lidded eyes stating down at you as his lips start to kiss down your jaw, your neck, between your breasts, down, down, down, until he’s positioning himself between your legs.

“Mmm such a pretty sight,” the man says, looking at your pussy with lovesick eyes. “Prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

He runs a finger through your folds, making you gasp at the sudden contact. He takes his finger to his mouth, his tongue wrapping around it to lick off your juices.

“Mmmm, like the divine nectar,” the man hums. You watch in anticipation as he brings his face closer to your pussy. His long tongue darts out again, your hands flying to his hair as he gets to work opening you up.

All of the times he’s spent with you in your dreams gave him plenty of practice to know exactly how you like it. He lets his tongue flick and rub against your clit as his fingers work diligently inside you. You feel your legs start shake as he brings you closer and closer to your peak.

Just as you feel yourself tipping over the edge, his tongue and fingers switch places. The pads of his fingers rub against your clit roughly as he sticks his long, thick tongue inside you. The muscle penetrates you deep, until you feel him hitting against your cervix.

Your vision goes white, little stars dancing behind your eyes as you cum hard on his tongue. In your blissed out state, you almost dont feel the way something is pushed deeper inside of you. It feels like a slight pinch, but almost immediately after your body feels like it’s on fire.

Whatever the man put inside you with his tongue begins to spread over the walls of your womb, coating it in a thick lining. Any arousal you had in your body was turned up to a hundred as you turn into a bitch in heat. Slick begins to pool on your bedsheets as it leaks from your pussy.

The man watches your body’s changes with delight. He licks his lips at the sight of you, his sharp teeth suddenly very noticeable to you.

“How do you feel?” He asks you, eyes still settled on your soaked cunt.

“H-hot?” You stutter, looking up at him with pinched brows. Was he always naked? Or had you not noticed his huge, hard cock until just now?

“That’s normal,” he says softly. He gently places a hand over your womb, his pointes nails grazing your skin. “How do you feel here?”

You look at his hand on your lower stomach. It’s huge when compared to the size of your body.

“Feels fine, maybe a little crampy?”

He coos down at you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“That will get better once I’m inside,” he assures you. His hand leaves your stomach to cradle your face lovingly. You lean into his touch, nuzzling against his large palm.

“What-what did you do to me?” The last word came out as a squeak as you feel the tip of his cock slid through your folds.

He leans into you, his hot breath on the bare skin of your neck as he rolls his hips. Once he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve gotten his cock, he finds your entrance and slowly begins to push it inside of you. He feels even bigger than he looks, and you start to panic as he continues to stretch you out. You grab at his broad shoulders and he shushes you.

“It’s okay,” he says, “your body will sense my size and adjust accordingly. Give it just a moment.”

There’s a slight strain in his voice that wasn’t there before. You can see his brows pinching together as the head of his cock nestles against your cervix. He pauses, looking down for a moment to observe how little of him your body had yet to take.

Suddenly, you feel a tingle between your legs, and a wave of slick pushes out of you. Your body felt like a raw nerve, becoming sensitive to even the smallest shift that the man makes. You begin to squirm beneath him out of desperation, seeking any bit of friction to give you some relief.

“Oh, fuck me,” the creature moans above you, watching the way you try and fuck yourself on his cock.

“Can I move?” He whines. “I need to fuck you.”

You realize you’d been staring down at where the two of you connected. When you look up to the creature’s face, he looks just about as fucked out as you feel.

His disheveled hair falls around his horns and into his face. His mouth is slack, his long tongue hanging out between his parted lips. He’s staring right at you, waiting.

“Please.”

You realize he must not be able to move unless you give him verbal permission. So when you manage to squeak out a “yes,” the creature lets out a sigh of relief. A devilish grin spreads across his face as he gets himself situated.

He pulls out of you agonizingly slowly, before thrusting sharply back inside of you. Your legs straighten at the sensation, his cock hitting your sensitive spot with ease and sending a shock wave through your body.

Suddenly you were cumming on his cock, never feeling a sensation like that before. He continued to move, fucking you through your orgasm without slowing down.

Dark tendrils of hair clouded your vision as he brought his lips to yours again. His long tongue began to lick into your mouth, filling it until you felt it trying to breach your throat. The size and thickness of it had you sucking on it out of instinct. The creature seemed to enjoy this, moaning into your mouth in response.

It was almost too much to be so full of this monster. The haze of lust made it hard to tell where your body began and his ended. Every thrust felt like a spark of lightning through your body that traveled to your finger tips.

When the creature pulled away from you, you audibly whined at the loss, even while gasping for air. He leaned back, angling his hips in a new way that had you seeing stars. Your back arched off the bed as you began to cum again.

“Dammnit,” the gruff voice of the monster breathes out. “You’re like a vice around me.”

“Feel so good,” you say breathlessly.

“Mmm, told you I would make the pain go away.”

You couldn’t think straight, let alone understand what he was talking about. All you could think of is your monster lover and the way he was moving inside of you.

And cum.

The thought of him cumming inside you became all consuming. The need for him to breed you was overwhelming to the point where you began bucking your hips into him again in a feeble attempt at expediting the process.

“Mmm you’re getting so needy aren’t you?” The monster cooes above you. You nod loosely, head bobbing but your eyes lazily fixed on the creatures deep brown ones, pupils big and wide enough you can see your own reflection in them.

“I never did tell you what I did to you, did I?” He says, still moving at a brutal pace.

“Nuh-uh,” is all you manage to say, gasping again at a particularly sharp thrust.

You look down at where the monster and you meet. For a brief, lucid moment your eyes go wide as you see the monsters cock fully disappearing inside of you, a small bulge pressing against your abdomen with every thrust the monster makes.

“I think you can tell by now that I am not like you,” he says. “But, the only way my kind can reproduce is with humans.” His hands roam your body, almost in awe of your form as he continues to speak.

“The only problem is that your kind,” he places a hand above your womb, “are only compatible if we…make it that way.”

Your cloudy thoughts make small connections between his words and his actions. If you were in a right state of mind, you’d probably have loads of questions you wanted answered. But right now, you only had one goal.

Grabbing the monsters arms, you use all of your strength that you can muster and manage to flip him completely only his back. The confident, sure creature becomes wide eyed and blushing as he stares up at you in a state of shock.

“Wh-what are you—“

“Shhh,” you shush him. “Want you to cum. Please?”

You waste no time as you begin to bounce up and down on his hard cock. He was deeper than you could ever imagine possible, but there was no pain. If anything, you couldn’t hold yourself back from cumming again and again.

“Holy shit,” the creature says, mesmerized at the way you use him for your own pleasure.

“Name.” It doesn’t come out as a question, rather a command.

“Wh-wha-You want to know my name?” The creature stutters.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Eddie! It’s Eddie!”

“Oh, fuck, Eddiieeeeeeeee!”

That pushed the creature over the edge. His large hands grab at your hips to hold you in place. Hot ropes of thick cum begin to fill you up until you start to feel it leaking out of you.

When you can finally open your eyes, you find the creature—Eddie—tongue out and panting as he catches his breath. Before your eyes you watch as he shifts from his monstrous form back into the man you’ve been seeing in your dreams.

If everything wasn’t so real, you’d almost think you were dreaming after all. But the slow circles that Eddie was rubbing into your hips was confirmation enough that all of this was very real.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin when you land next to him in the bed.

“Hi,” you say, looking at the handsome man next to you.

“You okay?” He asks, caressing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you sigh, turning to fully face him. “I just have a lot of questions.”

thanks for reading!

[caws5749]

Useless in A Good Way

A/N: oh, another fic where she writes a pregnant reader… YES IM SORRY but I’ve dreamt of being pregnant since I was little and it’s my biggest dream so here we go again 😭I’m working on requests as well but this just popped into my head. I felt very... out of practice with the last few pieces but writing this... I feel good again.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at some inappropriate joke Tony made after Clint won the round of whatever card game they were playing. Natasha’s hand rested on your thigh, squeezing accidentally while she laughed. The music played in the background, barely heard over the nearly hundred voices that filled the main room of the compound for the latest party Tony had deemed necessary.

You turned your head towards your wife to admire her for a moment. Nat caught your eye, sending you an admiring smile that she reserved only for you.

“You look radiant,” she murmured, leaning in closer to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You blushed, loving the red that still tainted your cheeks after four years of marriage.

"You look like home," you replied quietly, just barely loud enough for her- and Steve (curse that super soldier's hearing)- to hear.

She really did look like home. Her dress was long sleeve and snug, ending just below her knees and made of the softest cashmere. It was cozy and warm and loving, just like her, just like home.

The smile she let show threatened to overtake her lips, so she ducked her head as she always did. Perhaps even more so, considering the amount of alcohol she'd ingested.

You were the only one not drinking, which probably had something to do with the fact that you were seven months pregnant... with twins. You felt like you could hardly move and you the thought of two more months made you simultaneously groan and smile. Not to mention, you hadn't used your powers in a few months; the pregnancy hormones had affected your abilities in a questionable way, and the last time you had tried to let the familiar cool water flow from your hands, nothing had happened. It simply seemed that they had.. petered out. And you were warned by Dr. Cho to avoid trying to use them too much anyway.

"I should probably go check on the intelligence report," you said, sighing. Given that you were the only completely sober being present, it was your task to check on the latest intelligence report currently running after some curious and daunting messages of late.

Natasha nearly pouted, before standing and gripping your forearms with the gentle strength that only your wife could perfect. You groaned, all of your muscles giving maximum effort to stand from a seated position, your large abdomen giving you little room to move.

"God, I have two more months of that," you muttered.

"And it's only going to get harder," Clint chimed in, chuckling sympathetically. You sent him a mock glare.

"I'll go with you," Nat stated, a hand falling to your back. She hardly let you go anywhere alone, not that you minded. Living in the Avengers compound was one of the safest places there was, but it also was a target.

"Sit, I'll go," Steve said, "I've got to check on Bucky anyway."

"Finally, Natasha, it is your turn to lose so one money," Tony grinned, shuffling the deck of cards. Your wife retook her seat, rolling her eyes.

Steve met you next to the couch, offering an arm, which you took gladly. The team had been nothing but supportive after finding out about the pregnancy. They were all in agreement regarding your safety and protection. It was automatic at this point for them to watch over you, something that warmed your heart daily.

"How is Bucky?" you questioned.

"He misses being able to walk," Steve chuckled. "That's what he gets for fighting on a torn knee."

"It's been a week since surgery, right?"

He nodded. "And another week before he'll be able to get up and walk on it."

You hummed sympathetically. It was what all of you hated the most- feeling useless, being unable to be an Avenger. You had grown quite accustomed to the feeling.

Your friend, reached out with his other hand to open the door for you, following you inside the intelligence room, curious what the report would say too.

You studied the screen and briefly leafed through some papers, stopping at another odd message printed. Your brow furrowed.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"It's a date. Today," you answered, looking up to read his expression.

You'd seen the confusion and slight nervousness in his face before glass shattered in the not-so-far distance. Steve looked at you, panicked.

"We need to get you to the bunker."

"We don't even know what's-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted. Shouting then could be heard, growing closer in a split second. "Now."

You moved as quickly as you could, exiting only after Steve cleared the hallway. The two of you moved with expertise, albeit a bit slower than normal, towards the stairs. He helped you down the stairs, hurrying you along without rushing you. When you turned down the hallway that held the bunker, several beings masked in dark leather suits and glowing face shields awaited you.

"Stay back," Steve commanded, not even waiting for a response before running toward them at full speed. He pulled a knife from his pocket and set to work. You felt utterly useless, powerless, as you watched them swarm him. A few tried to sneak past to you, but he wouldn't let them come even close. You stood, anxious, barely breathing. Two swift hits to the stomach and knees had Steve knocked on the ground, stumbling for his footing. On instinct, you stepped forward, hands out in front of you.

You had no thoughts as you summoned the familiar tingle of your powers, forgetting completely that they may not even work for you. When coolness flowed through your fingertips, you only then realized you hadn't been able to do that for a while, and you probably shouldn't be doing it now.

But it didn't matter, there were enemies at hand, and you were an Avenger.

So you let a wave hit the men with everything you had. It was nowhere what you had attempted to do, but it worked nonetheless. It gave Steve the opportunity he needed to jump up and take them out quickly.

He took the remaining problems out with ease and then ran back to you.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, you?"

"You shouldn't have used your powers," he said aloud, more a fact and realization at what you had done rather than a scolding.

"I know."

"Bunker," he stated, gently pushing you towards the door. "Stay inside until you get the 'all clear."

You nodded, finding the hidden keypad and locking yourself inside.

++++++

When Steve returned back up to the party, he found several similar bodies strewn about and a few slightly out of breath Avengers.

"Y/N?" Natasha demanded.

"In the bunker, safe and unharmed."

She nodded, a thanks to her good friend.

"Anybody know what the hell is going on?" Clint asked, setting his bow and arrow down.

"Just today's date written down in a message, we just saw it in the report but couldn't piece anything together," Steve answered.

Natasha heard that and knew there was nothing to answer for now, so she started towards the hallway.

"Nat, she used her powers."

Your wife turned on her heel at that, whipping in the soldier's direction faster than lightning.

"Call Cho," was all she said.

++++++

"Natasha is entering," JARVIS announced, causing you to sit upright, eyes glued to the door.

"Oh, thank god," your wife muttered, seeing you sitting unscathed. "Are you alright?" She rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, eyes scanning your form, hand coming to rest against your cheek after she found nothing.

"I'm fine. Are you?" You turned to plant a kiss to her palm.

"Fine. You used your powers."

"Well, somewhat. They didn't work exactly right," you responded, frowning.

"What happened?"

You told her how you had saved Steve, well only by giving him a slight edge.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asked gently, picking up on your rather displeased tone.

"I feel useless," you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes as you shifted your gaze downward. Gentle fingers tugged your chin upwards until you were forced to meet those familiar emerald eyes.

"You are growing two human beings. That is not useless. I know you aren't avenging right now, but you did just save Steve, even if your powers were limited. Just because you can't do what you normally used to doesn't mean you aren't doing other things that aren't just as amazing, baby."

The corners of your lips twitched upwards, your mood already lifting.

"That's my girl. Now let's go upstairs, Cho is going to check you out."

"Natasha, I'm-"

"I don't care if you're fine," she tutted. "I'm not taking any chances."

With that, she kissed you softly and helped you upright.

++++++

BONUS

"And you know what she said?" Steve asked, a hand placed over his heart as he sat next to Bucky in bed. "You look like home." He sighed softly, as he thought of his two friends who were so beyond perfect for one another.

"How is that supposed to make my knee better?"

[logansargeantsbabymom]

I Said Back Off

Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader, Franco Colapinto x Lando Norris

Angst

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The world only saw Lando Norris, the quick-witted Formula 1 driver. They didn’t know about the side of him I knew—warm, caring, fiercely protective. Our relationship had been a secret for almost a year, something we wanted to keep safe from the prying eyes of the public and the pressures of the racing world. But I never expected someone to test the strength of our hidden romance as Franco Colapinto did.

The paddock was buzzing after Williams announced that Franco would be replacing Logan Sargeant. Franco had a boyish charm, that easygoing confidence that made him instantly likable. I was happy to see him get his shot in Formula 1, and I had no reason to think he’d be anything other than friendly. But from day one, he turned his attention to me in a way that was impossible to ignore. At first, I brushed it off as him trying to make an impression, especially as he didn’t know about Lando and me. But as his flirtation intensified, it became harder to ignore—and harder for Lando to tolerate.

One afternoon, I was in the paddock waiting for Lando to finish a debrief when Franco walked over, wearing his Williams team shirt and a lazy, almost arrogant grin.

“Y/N,” he greeted, giving me a once-over that felt more invasive than flattering. “You look stunning today. I bet you bring good luck to whoever you’re with.”

I laughed politely, shifting uncomfortably. “Thank you, Franco.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I mean it. I’ve noticed you around, and let’s just say… I’m determined to make sure I see a lot more of you. Maybe a date after the race?”

I tried to play it off with a polite smile, but it felt slimy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He laughed, not at all deterred. “Why not? I’ve got plenty to offer, Y/N.”

The unsettling feeling in my stomach grew as Franco took a step closer, his eyes raking over me. I had a sinking feeling he wasn’t used to hearing the word “no.”

I was relieved when Lando finally emerged from his meeting. He took one look at Franco standing so close to me, and his whole expression changed. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening, and he strode over, positioning himself protectively between Franco and me.

“Is there a problem here?” Lando asked, voice tense.

Franco’s smile only widened as he shrugged. “No problem at all, mate. Just getting to know Y/N a bit better. Can’t blame a guy for being interested in a beautiful girl.”

Lando’s hand tightened around my waist, his jaw ticking with restrained anger. “Maybe you should focus on your driving, Franco. Y/N’s not interested.”

Franco gave him a dismissive look, his smirk unwavering. “That’s funny, Norris. Just because you say she’s not interested doesn’t mean it’s true. I think she deserves to make her own choice.”

I could practically feel the fury radiating off Lando as he squared up to Franco, not bothering to hide his protectiveness anymore. “Back off, Colapinto. I’m only going to say this once.”

Franco laughed, clearly amused. “Touchy, aren’t we? I didn’t know she was already spoken for. But tell me, Norris… are you sure you’re giving her everything she needs? Because I’m willing to bet I could do better.”

Lando’s fists balled at his sides, and it took every ounce of restraint I had to pull him away before things got physical. “Lando, it’s not worth it. Let’s go,” I said softly, trying to defuse the tension.

Reluctantly, he let me guide him away, though I could feel his entire body still wound tight with anger. Once we were alone in his driver’s room, he paced back and forth, struggling to calm down.

“Who does he think he is, talking to you like that?” Lando muttered, his voice sharp with frustration. “He’s just a rookie. No one even knows his name, and he thinks he can just… just take you from me?”

I moved closer, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Lando, he doesn’t know about us. That’s why he’s acting this way. Just ignore him. He’ll get over it.”

But Lando shook his head, his expression hard. “I don’t care. I don’t care if he knows or not. I don’t want him near you.”

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

Race day arrived, and Lando seemed more tense than usual. Even as he prepared to get into the car, his eyes kept flicking over to me, as if making sure I was out of Franco’s reach. I tried to stay out of sight to avoid more confrontation, but Franco didn’t make it easy. Just before the race started, he found me in the garage, that same smirk on his face as he strode over.

“You know, I’m still serious about that date, Y/N,” he said smoothly, grabbing my hand before I could pull it away. He brought it to his lips, holding my gaze in a way that felt more like a challenge than a gesture of admiration. “Imagine the life we could have together. You don’t have to settle for second place.”

“Franco,” I said firmly, pulling my hand back. “I’m not interested.”

But he only chuckled. “That’s not the vibe I’m getting.”

Before I could respond, Lando caught sight of the scene from across the garage. His eyes blazed with fury as he marched over, grabbing Franco by the shoulder and yanking him back.

“I warned you, Franco,” Lando growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Franco just laughed, clearly reveling in Lando’s anger. “Calm down, Norris. You’re making a scene. What, scared of a little competition?”

“Competition?” Lando’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. “I’ll show you competition.”

With that, he turned on his heel, stalking off toward his car without another word. I knew he was furious, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end of it.

The race was brutal. Lando drove with a relentless aggression I hadn’t seen before, overtaking at every opportunity, refusing to yield an inch of space. When he finally closed in to lap Franco, I held my breath, watching as he drew dangerously close, almost forcing Franco off the track. Then, in a split second, Franco’s car veered off-course, spinning out and crashing into the barriers. The gasps around me were drowned out by the sound of metal grinding against concrete.

The cameras caught every second of it, but I knew immediately: it hadn’t been an accident. Lando had pushed him, and Franco’s car was totaled. Word quickly spread that Franco had injured his wrist, an injury that would keep him off the track for weeks.

When I finally found Lando after the race, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Lando, tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”

He looked at me, eyes still blazing with the same anger I’d seen earlier. “He was asking for it, Y/N. I warned him. He wouldn’t leave you alone, and then he had the nerve to say he could treat you better? I wasn’t going to stand for that.”

I stared at him, torn between anger and an unsettling sense of pride. “But Lando… you could’ve seriously hurt him.”

He pulled me close, his expression softening just slightly. “I’d do anything to protect you, Y/N. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else thinking they have a claim on you. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

My heart softened, even though I knew he’d crossed a line. “Lando, you can’t just—”

But before I could finish, he kissed me, right there in the open, in front of cameras and crew. Our secret was no longer hidden; he was making it known to everyone, Franco included, that I was his.

As the days passed, Lando’s apology came in small gestures—a handwritten note slipped into my bag, flowers on my doorstep, a quiet apology over dinner. He promised me he’d try to control his temper, and slowly, I forgave him. Because, in the end, there was no denying that he’d done it out of love, fierce and unyielding, a love I couldn’t resist.

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[knavesflames]

Yes. Write it :)

As promised😌

Fem Balletdancer! Reader x Arlecchino ;)

Contents: fingering, in a public space but they don’t get caught, slight choking (a tiny bit), tears, praise, but very slight degradation (in a loving way) arlecchino is possessive (and lowkey jealous)

Word count: 1263

Nsfw under the cut!<3

Breathing heavily after yet another performance, you stare out into the crowd. You keep your face still, but your eyes can’t help but light up when you see the familiar figure front and center in the crowd, clapping loud and slow. She stays seated while everyone files out of the opera epiclese, her stoic face disrupted by the hint of a smirk.

“Very fun, love.”

You finally move from your ending position, letting your fingers gently bounce on your costume— a beautiful white lace bodice with rhinestones that shine oh so perfectly in the light, complete with a white tutu, because what ballerina can dance without a tutu? You grin a thank you, stretching your feet that are still clad with your pointe shoes.

Finally catching your breath, you hear the familiar clack of her heels walking across the floor and up the stairs to the stage as you take a seat on one of the props. Your ballet partner nods and hastily runs off, not wanting the potential wrath of Arlecchino, because what if his hands were too close to your waist for her liking? What if he held you for a second too long? Her smirk disappears when she sees him run off, a quiet mutter of “coward” under her breath as she walks towards you. Her own hands dance up your waist, her breath coming close to your ear.

“I don’t like him.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her jealous streak, one she’d never admit she has.

“You say that with every partner I’ve had.”

Her voice takes on a sharper tone, not by much, but you can tell she’s serious, and you can’t help but try to contain a shudder.

“They’re not me.”

You plant a soft kiss on her jaw as you reassure her that you do not, in fact, feel anything towards them. Her lips twitch into a frown, and her hand grabs your wrist, a tight grip that can only be possessiveness, her voice practically a snarl.

“It’s not you I’m worried about. I know you’re mine. It’s them. You’re gorgeous, and they get to be close to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried anything.”

“They don’t.”

Her other hand moves to gently grip your chin, keeping you looking at her. She enjoys watching your face flush when she does it, and if anyone were to walk in, well, isn’t that a bonus? She gets to showcase that you’re hers and nobody else’s.

“They better not. I’ll kill them the second they’re too touchy.”

“Stop it—“

Before you can protest anymore, she’s only gone and bent you over the damn prop, a small wooden table. Your tutu flares upward, which earns a low, throaty chuckle from Arlecchino.

“You’re cute with this tutu. You’re lucky it’s expensive or I’d rip it off you. You’re not only cute, you’re mine.”

She feels your breath hitch as her hand travels up your thigh before she removes it, only to have it landing down roughly on your ass. Her fingers caress smoothly where the slap landed, soothing the sting, and my god is she glad you can’t see her and her wicked grin when you yelp. Her nails, long and sharp (you’re lucky she files two of them down), slice through your tights and leotard with one simple movement, causing you to whine.

“Arlie, these were expensive.”

“Shut up, I’ll buy you new ones.”

“But—“

“Would you like to cum? Then be quiet.”

With a whimper, you comply. With her one hand on your back, holding you down against the table, her other hand traces around your slit, so carefully avoiding touching you where you want to. Your hips buck back in an attempt to force her hand where you want them, which earns another slap on your ass and a yelp from you.

Your voice echoes around the now empty opera epiclese, which makes you so painfully aware of the fact anyone could walk in.

“What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll kill them if they do.”

“Arlecchino.”

“Fine. They won’t.”

With her fingers finally dipping into you, a soft moan leaves your lips.

“Good girl. So wet for me, it’s almost like you want to get caught. Lift your leg.”

Seeing your confused look, she taps your thigh, almost commanding you to lift it.

“You’re flexible enough. You can arabesque and développé everywhere. Lift your leg.”

You bite your lip, but lift your leg anyway, wrapping it around her waist for support. She knows you’re able to stay like that, and she relishes in how easy it is to touch you with your legs the way they are, so she uses it to her advantage.

Her fingers dip into you once again, teasing you mercilessly. Pretending like she’s sliding her sharp nails into you, making you whimper in nervousness, but she’s not that cruel. She slips two fingers inside of you (the ones with the filed nails, thank god), groaning softly when she feels you suck her fingers in. You let out a quiet moan that echoes once more as her fingers card through your hair, untangling it from the elegant hairdo you had while dancing. With a gentle flick of her wrist, your hair is wrapped around her fist, giving it gentle tugs.

Her fingers pump into you, slowly, then faster when your cute sounds only confirm you want to keep going. The hand in your hair tugs harder, lifting you from the table and pressing your back against her. Once she’s satisfied with your position, her hand moves. The hand once weaves into your hair moves to your exposed throat, squeezing gently and chuckling at your choked moans and the tears forming in your eyes.

“Not so scared someone will walk in now, hm? You’re so confident on stage, I thought you’d like someone walking in to see you turn into a fucked out whore. My fucked out whore. Do you hear me? Not his. He’s lucky I don’t rip his head off for looking at you the way he does.”

Her grip loosens enough to let you speak, grinning when she hears your cute little mumbles of agreement, feeling the way your pussy clenches around your fingers as she curls them, hitting the spongy spot inside you just perfectly.

Your tutu and your pointe shoes, which are still on your body (for a reason, because she’ll never admit how much it turns her on seeing you like that), are long forgotten by you. Your brain is focused on one thing, and she knows exactly what— chasing the orgasm she knows she’s giving you. Your voice rings out, stuttering and punctuated by moans.

“Cu-cumming, I’m-“

Her velvety voice whispers in your ear, her lips travelling down your shoulder before giving a quick bite that sends you over the edge.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you need as you clench around her fingers and tremble, your position finally failing you. Her arm is quick to catch you before you fall against the table, her body leaning over yours as she soothes you, guiding you through each wave of pleasure. Her fingers pump inside just a little more, slowing to a stop before pulling out. Her fingers glisten with your slick in the stage lighting, and she moves her fingers ever so slightly, if only to showcase how messy you made her fingers. She smirks, her stoic demeanour almost back into place as she stares at you, her tongue flicking out to clean her own digits.

“You always taste so good, little dove. Want to go home and clean up, hm?”

[aebinspa]

dopamine

PAIRING: giselle x y/n reader

GENRES: suggestive, angst, reader hates giselle and they end up doing a project for school together lmao, meangirl!giselle, reader and giselle are a menace to society, jimin (aespa) and juyeon (tbz) are in a study group together and they are incredibly optimistic, mentions of sex, kiss, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my first language! so i’m practicing my writing hoping it can get better and better. AND stream giselle's dopamine it's so good <3

Nothing could have prepared you for the worst news of your life: you, aware that you love loneliness and hate forced contact with others, were assigned to group work with Aeri Uchinaga, famous for not contributing to any group work and for being always in the middle of too many, too many men.

After leaving a resigned sigh you approach your best friend Jimin to tell her about the unfortunate fate that struck you. "Among all and I say among all those that could happen to me, HER" "You’re tragic even if she has a bad reputation. Perhaps a woman like you who does nothing but read, read, and read will surrender and become incredibly willing!" "Funny Jimin. Who did you get?" "Juyeon and they also say that besides being incredibly beautiful he is also incredibly gifted" whispers Jimin, thinking that this could save her from the embarrassment of such a statement. "Enough, I’ve heard enough. I’m going home."

On the way back, angry and sad, you noticed a really nice coffee in which you would have wanted to stop but the change that you had in your wallet would not be enough even for half a sandwich. The puff you pulled out scared a stray cat that was stealing a piece of bread from the ground. Why does everything feel so strange to me?

The next day, as you arrived in class, you noticed Juyeon’s huge body very close to your best friend’s; you came up to check if Jimin was all right only to see that her face had a loving expression. "Good morning guys" you are starting, trying to forget what you just saw. "Hi, Jimin told me a few things about you. How nice to meet you" The two-door wardrobe that took the name of Juyeon squeezed you in a strong embrace that leaves you breathless. Men are really scary. "Hey Y/N, Giselle was looking for you earlier." "Who?" "That’s how us boys call her!" "You… guys?" "Giselle is part of my group, at least once we all go out together!" Juyeon’s enthusiasm was overwhelming but not enough to influence you. "Ah, she's going out with you."

"Y/N" What a hateful voice, not changed by a comma. You didn’t sunbathe at first; you wanted to see how much the little princess could have withstood without a bit of attention. Juyeon - this time with the help of Jimin - thought about involving her. "You might as well look me in the eye when I talk to you." "Go fuck yourself, Giselle. You sound like the 'ass-kicking' girl”. It didn’t take even half a second for you both to turn in the opposite direction. Jimin and Juyeon, moved by the situation, tried to calm things down. “How about you girls come to my house? Jimin and I have to do our project but there’s no problem if you come too. The table is big, the fridge is full and the more the merrier!” Juyeon shouted enthusiastically.

The idea of ​​being alone in an empty room with Giselle terrified you so it didn’t seem like a bad idea to accept without too many problems; the other seemed to agree too.

“Perfect! Then let’s all go to Juyeon’s this Friday afternoon!” Oh Jimin, you could have avoided this.

Unfortunately for you and Giselle, Friday arrives in the blink of an eye. Juyeon’s imposing house stood in front of you and Jimin. “Not only is he handsome and gifted, but he also has a huge house. What more can I ask for?” “You could say a little prayer for me, for example” “Giselle won’t be able to tear your hair out if Juyeon and I are there with you” Jimin smiled at you as if to reassure you. “Good thing you always see the positive side…” you replied, already tired at the idea of having to enter that house.

When you entered, Giselle was already sitting on the wicker chair in the lush garden that was attached to the house. “Girls, here you are. Jimin can you help me bring some snacks out?” Jimin didn't have to be told a second time and rushed to help the boy after sending you a flying wink. You approached Giselle and sat in the chair opposite her, to maintain some distance. It was the first time you had seen her like this. The dark hair that she always combined with clothes of the same shade was this time combined with a long white dress that made her almost ethereal; the glasses made her face prettier than the one she had always adorned only with heavy black makeup which yes suited her well but a lighter shade made it stand out even more. Maybe you found yourself staring at her too much because when your eyes met you saw a smirk of victory on the girl’s face.

“Are you admiring what you’ll never have?” “And what is this thing I’ll never have? Dignity?” “The chance to brag about how beautiful you are” “Oh, the princess of everyone’s bed spoke” “I don’t have sex with men” Giselle replied somewhat upset. “Oh, so all the things they say about you are false?” “My group of friends is made up of all gay men and one straight man” Concern for Jimin filled you for a moment and you stopped the conversation in progress. “Juyeon's not gay, right?” “As if your eyes can't see how he's hitting on your best friend, you dumbass.” "Here's all the snacks!" Your darkened and frowning faces turned abruptly towards the two newlyweds and then shouted "Shut up!" Jimin resignedly rolled her eyes.

The first half hour you and Giselle spent arguing over the theme of the PowerPoint presentation. “This is an old lady color” “This is a funeral color though Y/N!” "You love funeral colors!"

The next two hours were spent looking for information on the same topics which later turned out to be identical; cause for further argument. When Juyeon and Jimin finished their work, you were still in the first part of the project. Your best friend and the guy disappeared somewhere after two minutes; when you received a message from Jimin you found out that the two had gone to stock up on chips.

“So you hate me?” You never expected to see such a piercing look on Giselle’s face. “No, I find you annoying and everything they say around you about you seems to confirm it” “I already told you this is all fucking fake” The black-haired girl ran a hand through her hair and turned her gaze elsewhere. “People love to say everything that comes to their mind. I'm a lesbian, men don't interest me. After I refused to have sex with a guy I was paired up with for a group project, he went around telling people that I'm a terrible partner and that well… slutshaming and other not-so-nice things about me."

The silence that followed immediately afterward was extremely embarrassing for both of them. “I said a bunch of bullshit, I'm sorry. I always imagined you through gossip, even though I know that Jimin doesn’t think of you as a slacker and that Juyeon is your best friend” “Y/N” Giselle tried to butt in. “Listen Aeri, I’ll make it up to you. I don’t like you but I have to admit that despite the various arguments you’re a real looker and what you say sometimes makes me laugh so all in all, you’re not bad” Giselle laughed. “Oh my god, are these supposed to be an apology?” "My apologies" “You should make them better. No nice man would pursue such a lunatic." “I'm not interested in men. They're just accessories to me.”

Giselle only stopped laughing when you said that. “But the two boyfriends you had last year?” Without asking how she knew, you continued with your speech. “A Cover to keep my parents from realizing I’m a lesbian. Same old story. They were nice accessories at least”

The tension between the two of you was growing more and more. Giselle slowly approached you, first placing a hand on the floor where you were lying and then bringing a leg forward. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Y/N?” You gulped down. “How long has it been since you kissed a woman, Aeri?” Giselle was a millimeter from your lips, hand on your thigh, and hand next to yours. If only it hadn't been for the scream that Juyeon pulled open the door, something would have happened, Giselle quickly moved away and muttered “What an idiot he is” as if the house didn't belong to him to begin with.

“We’re back! Is everything okay or did you get into a fight?” A restrained, fake laugh came out of your mouth and so did the words that came out of it. “We were one step away from having ourselves by the hair” You couldn't describe the look Giselle gave you.

The next day at school, you noticed that Giselle’s desk was empty. Worried, even though you didn’t want to admit it, you asked Juyeon for the girl’s number. Juyeon couldn’t help but smile as you saved the number on your phone. You immediately texted Giselle, asking why she hadn’t come to school and threatening to break into her house through the window if she didn’t answer. To your surprise, Giselle responded a few minutes later with a raised middle finger emoji; to which you of course responded with another middle finger. The next message made you lose your mind. “Bitch, I'm waiting for you at my house. Don't break my door, please”.

As you walked towards Giselle's house, you wondered where this interest in such an annoying person had come from. Interest was a big word, but yesterday you were the one who almost threw yourself into the arms of a girl you felt like you had hated for a lifetime.

When you arrived in front of Giselle's house, you knocked so loudly that the one who looked out the window was the neighbor and not the interested girl. "Holy God, what a mess you make!" Giselle in pajamas and slippers opened the door and made you smile. “Cute pajamas” “Go shit”

You went up the stairs and arrived in the girl's room. The room, to your surprise, was pink wherever you turned to look at it. “Hello Kitty puked on it?” “Perhaps you mean My Melody” “Even the canopy bed, princess” Giselle lay down on the bed and waited for you to do the same. “Shall we finish the work?” “I’m in”

Compared to the day before, things seemed to be going better. It wasn’t just the arguments that kept the exchange of information going but also the moments where you both dedicated time to listening to each other’s opinions.

“Done! And fuck it all!” “Hopefully we get a good grade” "God Y/N who cares! It's already a miracle to have managed to finish something like this." You nodded to let the other person understand that for once you agreed on everything. You printed out the sheets with the part that each of you had to do for the presentation and then threw yourselves on the bed again, tired of everything.

“Do you find school that fun?” Giselle was the first to speak. “No, simply when I don't know what to do I start reading, reading, reading. At least that’s what Jimin says” “I can’t stand it.” “Maybe you can't stand the people who are there” “Yes, but I hate everything about that place. The desks, the air that makes me uglier, the men, the homework, and group studies" You thought a few more seconds before answering her and, taking a deep breath, you turned towards her. "I can make you change your mind" “You can try but I don't know how well it works” “There's me and Jimin in the class. Then we can study together and everything will seem fun!” “See… You like school” Giselle's face darkened. “I enjoy being with Jimin. There's also Juyeon! And well… I'm here." Giselle turned away and didn't speak to you anymore.

A day went by and Giselle never replied to your messages. That morning you were supposed to present the group project. Not only had she stopped responding to the messages you were sending her under the desk, but she was also late for the presentation. A terrible thought passes through your mind. Did she stay home? She knows that the teacher gives a failing grade when something like that happens.

Jimin and Juyeon brilliantly finished their presentation and the applause, luckily for you since you were supposed to present later, lasted for two minutes. “Y/N and Giselle are next. However, I see that one of the two is missing. I will have to give you a good-” The classroom door suddenly burst open and all the eyes of your classmates and yours moved from the teacher to the figure of Giselle, who noisily began with a “Teacher, Y/N and I are ready to present!” A small smile appeared on your face.

Fortunately, the presentation given by you and Giselle surprised the class and the teacher who seemed to have very low expectations. During the break, you grabbed Giselle by the arm and led her to a secluded space. It was she who spoke first. "Excuse" “Don't be sorry, strangely everything went well” A silly bit of tongue from Giselle made you grin. “It went better than expected, yes.” You nodded. That silence that now characterized your relationship was starting to be too heavy to bear. Giselle came close to your face. “Teach me what having fun at school means, you little bitch,” she began while doing nothing but staring at your lips. "I know a better way to have fun." It was your hand that brought your bodies together and united them. Within seconds, Giselle approached your lips and began to kiss you without fear of being seen. Your tongues and legs intertwined as the kiss became more wet and passionate. You were the first to break away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. “We're going a little too fast” “We're just reversing the lessons a little bit. I kissed you first so you can teach me all that bullshit about how great school is." “And what happens after I teach you everything you need to know about school?” The bell announced the end of the break. “Well, after that I can see if I trust you and if we can go further.” "So kiss, school, sex, and only if these three work can we be together?" A loud laugh escaped your lips and Giselle without answering began to head towards your classroom.

“You know Y/N, maybe my plan could work” “There’s never been a plan that I couldn’t make work” The look you exchanged sealed a long and lasting agreement between the two of you.

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat. 

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.” 

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable. 

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day. 

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch.  When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless. 

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry  Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

[mattsmommy69]

My sweet girl

Summary: Y/n was a virgin and had not been in a rush to lose her virginity that is until she met Matt sturniolo. They have been dating for about 2 months and y/n is getting very sexually frustrated and Matt has to figure out why she’s been acting so weird.

Warnings: fluff, smut, riding, make out, fingering, p in v, virgin!reader, dom!matt, praise kink

It was a boring Saturday to say the least. Nick and Chris were out doing god knows what while you and Matt sat at home rotting away. You hate to say it but you had grown frustrated with Matt throughout the day. You and Matt have been dating for about two months now and still hadn’t had sex, you were a virgin and Matt knew that but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to never lose your virginity, you just hadn’t trusted anyone enough yet. But you trusted Matt and he trusted you, so why had it not happened yet? You kept trying to drop hints by wearing more revealing clothes and having spicier make out sessions but they all seemed to fly over Matt’s head. You had began to believe that he didn’t want you for some reason and it was really starting to get to you.

“Hey babe what you up to?” Matt says looking at his phone walking into his room getting closer to the bed you lay on. Matt looks up from his phone when he finally makes it to the bed to see your face in the pillow and he can hear faint sniffing. “Baby are you crying? What’s going on my love?” Matt says as he puts a gentle hand on your back and rubs it soothingly. “Baby talk to me.” He says as your face is still buried in the pillow ignoring him. You finally turn to face him, face flushed and tears rolling down your cheeks. “Do you not want me?” As I ask the question my voice cracks and more tears fall down my face. “What do you mean do I not want you?” He says still rubbing your back looking at you with concern and confusion. “We’ve been together two months and you still haven’t tried to have sex with me Matt. Is there something wrong with me, is that why you don’t want to have sex with me?” I say while pushing my face back into the pillow due to being embarrassed and a mess. I try and catch my breath for a second and calm my self down, once I do this Matt finally speaks. “My sweet girl, I have never wanted anyone more in my life. I’m sorry I made you feel this way my love, I truly had no idea you were this upset and I thought I was respecting your boundaries by not pushing you to do anything.” As he talks I sit up and look at him with tears still rolling down my face. “You mean it? It was just a miscommunication?” I ask with an almost pleading look on my face. “Yes baby I mean it, I’m so sorry I got you so upset.” He says this as he wipes my tears and now a smile is plastered across my face instead of a frown.

“Glad I got you smiling again sweet girl, I never meant to hurt you.” As he’s saying this I move from my position sitting beside him to now sitting on top of his lap and grabbing his face and pushing his cheeks together “it’s okay baby.” After I say that I lean in and kiss Matt, first sweetly put as it continues it grows more passionate and hungry. I begin to rock my hips on Matt’s thigh and he notices my hint. “Are you sure baby?” He asks looking at me to see if I’m showing any hesitation. “Yes Matt I’m sure, I’ve wanted this for so long, please Matt.” I say practically begging after being so sexually frustrated. “I know angel I’ve wanted this too, just want to make sure you have a good first time okay love?” He asks me as he starts to kiss down my neck. I turn my head to give him better access. “Yes Matt please.” I’m still rocking my hips back and forth on his thigh trying to relieve some pressure from between my legs. As Matt kisses down my neck his hands that were on my waist helping me rock on his thigh move down towards the bottom of my shirt.

“Can I take this off sweet girl?” He asks as he’s pulling at the bottom of my shirt. “Yes Matt, please hurry up.” I say without a second thought. Matt pulls my shirt over my head only to realize I’m not wearing a bra. “Your so beautiful angel.” He says as he starts to plant wet kisses all over my breast making my breath hitch as I continue rocking back and forth in his thigh. “Stand up and take your bottoms off for me okay pretty girl?” He kisses my nose as I nod my head at his request and climb off of him. I slide my shorts and underwear off in one swipe, making myself be completely bare in front of Matt. “Your so beautiful angel.” Matt’s eyes roam my body as I stand there awkwardly. “Lay down for my baby, let me take care of you.” Matt says patting the bed. I climb back on the bed laying down on my back, Matt quickly gets on top of me and starts to kiss me again. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen y/n.” He says as he kisses down my neck again but this time not stopping and kissing down my whole body until he reaches my heat. I was throbbing at this point needing to be touched so badly. Matt takes two fingers and slides them up my heat, “So wet for me, huh sweet girl?” Matt asks as he plunges the same two fingers inside my hole, my breathe hitches at the unfamiliar yet amazing feeling. “Talk to me baby, you feeling good?” Matt asks with a smile of his face as he plunges his fingers in and out of me at an antagonizing pace, knowing the pleasure I’m feeling is making it hard for me to speak. “Yes Matt fuck just like that!” I say a little to loudly. “Good girl, you close angel?” My moans grow loader and loader as his fingers never stop the cruel pace inside my cunt. “Yes Matt so close, please don’t stop!” At this his fingers speed up and at this point I’m in the stars. “Matt! Im cumming, matt!” I yell as I feel my orgasm crash over me like a tidal wave. Once I come down from my high matt pulls his fingers out slowly and I wince from the pain. “You did so good for me sweet girl.” He says as he brings his face directly in front of mine, kisses me softly and smiles.

“Matt, I need you.” I say out of breath and desperate to feel Matt inside of me. At this Matt kisses me passionately, our tongues fighting for dominance and his easily winning. He slips his shirt off and begins to take his pants off. “Your sure you want this baby?” He asks pausing from taking his pants off and looking at you. “Yes! Please matt!” I grow frustrated again almost begging. “Didn’t know you wanted my cock so bad angel.” He says as he strokes his member a few times before starting to push the tip in. “Fuck baby you’re so tight.” He says in a deep voice as he slowly pushes deeper into you. “You okay baby?” He pauses as he asks. “A little uncomfortable but keep going.” I say as he stretches my walls and I feel a slight burning sensation. “Tell me if I need to stop and I will.” He says as he pushes deeper into me. “Fuck Matt you’re so big.” I say as he keeps pushing deeper into me. “I know baby you almost took all of it your doing so good for me.” Matt finally bottoms out and you both let out moans at the feeling. “Can I move sweet girl?” Matt asks wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust. “Yes, please.” At that Matt pulls almost all the way out of you and slams back into you over and over again at a slow, deep pace. “Fuck you feel so good baby.” Matt moans in your ear as he picks up the pace a little. “Faster Matt, please.” You beg feeling your second orgasm approaching. Matt goes faster as you requested and starts to rub your clit. “Matt, I’m close!” I warn, my moans becoming louder. “Shh, I know baby cum all over my cock princess.” At his words he picks up the pace and continues rubbing your clit. “Matt!” Is all you get out before your second orgasm washes over you, you squeezing Matt makes him cum right after you and he fills you up making you feel warm. “This might hurt baby.” He warns before pulling out of you slowly, you whine at the pain and he squeezes your hand for support. He finally pulls out and lays down beside you.

Matt’s a sweaty out of breath mess but somehow he’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him. “Thank you Matt.” Is all you say as you both lay there cuddled up into each other. “Of course my sweet girl.”

[abbyromanoff]

something with g!p!beefy!kate and reader? 🙈

SEX, MONEY, FEELINGS, DIE

PAIRINGS: Kate bishop x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,284

WARNINGS: angst with happy ending, smut, Kate has a dick, riding, fingering, daddy (K), breeding kink, pregnant!R, size kink, belly bulges, rivals to lovers, think that’s all :)

PART 1

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“You’re- you’re pregnant?” Kate questioned, a nervous gulp traveling through her throat. She looked down at the stick, furrowing her brows as she admired the two lines.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.” She shook her head, almost as if she didn’t believe you.

“No, no, that’s not possible.” She sat on the end of the motel bed, her head in her hands. You two had paid for the room to occupy for the night, Kate thought that meant you would share your more intimate moments like usual, although she didn’t expect what happened when she arrived.

“But it is! Why can’t you just understand? You didn’t use a condom, that’s your fault, this is a shared consequence.” You were growing frustrated with her denial as well as upset, you were already terrified she wouldn’t agree to see you anymore but tried to think positively, but now that was canceled out as you faced reality.

“Please, you can’t keep denying it. I didn’t sleep with anyone but you, I haven’t since the day I met you.” The moment you saw her you were practically in love but pushed it aside due to your jobs along with the worry she didn’t harbor the same feelings. She did, but she didn’t exactly understand them.

“I’m not asking you to stay in the baby's life, all I’m asking is that you say something; anything!” You begged again, part of you already giving up and getting ready to leave. You just hoped your boss would never find out who the other mother was or else you’d end up alone and jobless.

“I- I need to think about this.” She whispered, biting her lip as her face showed certain emotions that you couldn’t quite make out. You noticed her leg bouncing slightly, a sign of anxiety that she often showed without realizing.

“There’s nothing to think about, Kate, just accept the fact that you’ll be having a child soon whether you’re in their life or not.” She heard your sniffles and quickly shot her gaze to you, standing up as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She tried reaching out for your hands and felt relieved when you weakly accepted.

“I’m not going to be an absent parent, I’ve always wanted a child I just never expected it to be like this.” She blew out a deep breath, a small chuckle leaving her as she finished her sentence.

“Neither did I, but life is full of curveballs, you just need to figure out how to get through them.” She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut to try and stop the tears from arriving. You noticed this, just like you noticed every move she made. Your hand came to cradle her cheek as you took a step closer, all proximity between you two being damaged as you gave her a questioning yet loving look.

“When I was little, maybe six or seven, I lost my dad. It hurt, it hurt so bad and every single moment without him felt like- like hell. I don’t want this kid to feel that way, I want to be there for not only you but my baby,” The words ‘my’ felt comforting yet terrifying to her. “I just- I don’t know if I’m ready.” She wiped her cheek hurriedly, scared by the thought of letting you see her like this; emotional and vulnerable. She didn’t even let her mother see this side of her after the tragic passing of her father, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready for anyone else to see it.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Kate, no person, especially not a child, should ever have to learn to accept how life is without their parent. But that doesn’t mean the same will happen to them, you don’t have to be ready, you just need to be there for them, for us.” She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek as a stress reliever. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around your shoulders as she pulled you in, stuffing her head against the side of your neck. You could feel your sleeve wettening with her tears as she apologized but didn’t attempt to move.

“Shh, we’re gonna be alright, it’s okay.” That night was spent with many words of reassurance from both of you and an excited yet scared Kate adoring your stomach. It felt crazy to her that her child, her biological child, was in there.

And while the nine-and-a-half months weren’t easy at all, neither of you wanted anything but. Often nights you craved her muscular biceps to wrap around you in order to feel her, and often times you begged her to shed her clothing along with yours.

Every request you made was met with a smile and a kiss, she was grateful to even be near you let alone tend to you. Surprisingly, both of your bosses understood your circumstances and gave you an entire years-long leave, yet you decided to keep your relationship secret. If they found out your child was going to be related to someone from your opposing sides you’d both be terminated instantly, and you knew that was anything but good for your daughter.

Kate cried her eyes out when she found out she was going to have a girl, it had always been a dream of hers to have a daughter while her mother always wanted a granddaughter.

She helped you through the entire birthing stage even when you got mad at her. In the end, it was all worth it because she got to meet Kathryn, her beautiful little girl. She looked exactly like her, there was no denying who the mother was. She had exactly four strands of hair on the top of her head, they were painted black. Her eyes matched hers and so did her nose, yet you believed her smile was the most like your girlfriend.

You had never seen her grin so hard, her cheeks must’ve been sore. Her mother soon entered the room to meet her grand-baby, she shared a knowing look with you before leaving the room, letting the two of you have your privacy.

“I love you so much, you know that?” She brushed the strand of hair out of your face and leaned down to press her lips against yours, small sniffles coming from each of you.

“Uhm, I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a little while now, but I thought now might be the best time.” She reached into her pocket where her mother’s ring rested, Elanor had gifted it to her when hearing about her plans. Your mouth parted, your eyes widening as she dropped to her knee.

“Y/N-”

“Yes!”

“I- I didn’t even say my speech yet..”

“I don’t care, it’s a yes!” She huffed out a smile and brought herself to stand, leaning into your grabby hands as you hugged her tightly. She rested her cheek on the top of your head and sighed happily in the silent room, not caring to acknowledge the nurse’s recording from outside the door.

“I love you both so fucking much.”

Four months later and your baby girl had taken her first-ever step, even if she nearly fell over afterward. Her Momma caught her before she could hit her head and, soon after cheered and applauded Kathryn who had no idea what was happening but babbled along.

That night when she put her to bed she came back to the couch where you sat, a binder in hand as you chose what flowers would be best for your wedding.

“Kathryn’s officially wiped out.” You huffed a chuckle and patted the spot next to you, motioning for her to sit which she did.

“You know this is going to be a small wedding, right?” She made notice of when seeing the sticky note that held the growing prices.

“Yes, but I want this to be perfect!” You sighed while running your hand through your hair, a small pout adorning your face as the stress of the event started catching up to you once again.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. As long as I get to see my beautiful partner walking down that aisle then it’ll be perfect.” She kissed your cheek, grasping your chin in her hand as she eased you to look at her. She gave a warm smile that you failed to return, only to feel the pads of her thumbs lifting your lips.

“Turn that frown upside down, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world to plan, but for now, let’s just take it one thing at a time, alright?” You nodded along with her and received a kiss on your forehead that soon landed on your lips. She repeated her second action multiple times until you forced her to stay close, basking in the taste of her cracked lips.

“You know, it’s been a while since we’ve gotten alone time, I feel like we should do something with it.” You snorted at her remark, yet your hands placed on her abs felt differently. She was built like a goddess, and you wanted to appreciate every inch of her.

“C’mon, I’ve missed you, baby.” She whined, trying to lead you onto her lap until you eventually gave in. She let her hands rest on your ass, her features showing pure excitement as if she was a child in a candy store. You chuckled dryly as your hips slowly started a grinding rhythm, making the older woman groan.

“Fuck, don’t tease me.” You pulled her in for a kiss, feeling her tongue run across your lip before you let her access. Hunger was written all over her features along with the growing erection beneath you.

“So beautiful, how did I get so lucky?” She asked after parting, bringing her hand down to tease your clit through the soft material of your panties. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, worried you’d somehow wake your sleeping daughter if you were too loud.

“I need you, Daddy.” You whimpered, the usage of her nickname causing a grin to spread on Kate’s face. Your swollen bud was pulsating the further she teased, rubbing small circles before pulling back entirely.

“Please don't do this to me.” You begged, and you could see in her eyes that she was enjoying every second of this.

“Tell me what you want,” She started. “Go on, tell Daddy what you want her to do to you.” Your mouth parted in a silent scream when her finger covered in your juices teased your hole as if she were using it to mimic a lubrication.

“I-I want your fingers…Please, I need you- ah!” You choked out a moan when you felt two digits entering you, slowly stretching you out for her.

“I love taking care of you, baby, such a good girl.” She dragged out the praise, enjoying the reaction she was given. Your hips involuntarily started moving against her, desperate for the pleasure she was ensuing.

“Right there! Yes, yes, Daddy!” You could feel her poking at your g-spot, but it wasn’t quite enough. No matter how fast or deep you forced her to go it wouldn’t be enough, you needed her.

Your fingers quickly started undoing the belt on her pants, she smiled, knowing exactly what you were asking of her.

“Oh, I see, you want me to fill you up, huh? Maybe I’ll fuck you ‘till you’re pregnant, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You nodded rapidly, unable to speak as her fingers curled deliciously. You both knew it was just dirty talk as neither of you were ready for another child, especially after the scare you two got when you were expecting.

“Oh, god- yes! Please fill me up, want you to make me a Mommy again.” You whined pitifully. She released a broken moan from deep within her chest, feeling your hands stroking her length as pre-cum drooled from the tip. Her fingers slowly eased out of you and were quickly replaced with her cock, both of you gasping at the intrusion.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” She mumbled, admiring the small bulge appearing on your stomach the further you sunk. It always got her going when seeing how she overpowered you and you gladly took it.

She didn’t give you time to adjust to the stretch as you instantly felt her driving in and out of you, your breasts bouncing with every thrust and causing the woman to grapple onto them. Her mouth wrapped around your nipple, her cheeks hollowing as she felt milk pouring into her tastebuds.

“I wanna milk you fucking dry, princess.” You ran your fingertips through her hair as she sucked, not letting a single droplet escape from the barrier of her lips. She could feel your slick coating her thighs as you bounced, your head being thrown back as the thrill took over.

“I’m gonna cum..” It came out as a hushed whisper, but you knew if you spoke up it would’ve resulted in multiple noise complaints along with a crying baby.

“Come on, cum for me. Cum for Daddy, sweetheart.” You shook in her hold as you bit down on your lip, nearly bringing blood to the surface.

“That’s it, just like that. Oh, you’re doing so good, making me so fucking proud.” The coil in her stomach snapped when watching you, filling your cunt with her cum as she weakly tried to pull out, praying you carried a plan B in the cabinets.

Your heavy breaths covered the living room, Kate’s black hair sticking to her face where sweat lied.

“So, I think we got time for one more round.”

“Fuck yes.”

[hana-no-seiiki]

I’ve been stuck on this idea. Jinx reader with the batfam…I know you had it in your master list and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe when the reader was little, they doodled and made little trinkets like powder. So I’m thinking that the reader doodled on batmans tools. Kinda like how powder/jinx made their weapons with faces on them.

So maybe Batman and the rest of the boys were gone and reader snuck into the bar cave and started doodling on their masks and weapons.

And just another thought 😅

When reader is older, they become a vigilante, causing chaos for the fun of it but also doing it for good. They also move out when they were a kid, because maybe Batman called then a jinx (I’m really going for the arcane storyline 😭😭😭)

Maybe the batfam tries to bring her back, but she just kinda runs away laughing while throwing glitter bombs 😭😭😭

Just something I thought of

I don’t usually write reader as childhood friends with the guys here unless it’s cat villain (which is more like childhood rivals) so this is quite the change.

In my og storyline which i have semi spoiled and will spoil some more here : Jason and Jinx! Reader were part of a found family and Jason having a massive crush on reader gave them tools to make explosives they really shouldnt have. Which is kind of poetic knowing how he ‘dies’.

I’m not sure if this ask is platonic or romantic so I’ll just go with my preference, the latter.

this is just a little snippet since i started working on jinx reader again huhu wanna save the juicy stuff for that one

Jinx! Reader was known as the runt of the litter among Bruce’s adopted children. Physically weak, above average in smarts but nothing compared to the rest. The only thing they had going for them was their skill with firearms which Bruce heavily discouraged and admonished the practice of.

Jason and you bonded with rebelling against him. He’d often bring you out to abandoned arcades that you two would repair from scraps you found in the Batcave. Dude was down atrocious. He kept bringing you to missions purely because he couldn’t resist your face. Sure he was snarky at times, but your common upbringing made him more soft around you. (Sometimes he purposely puts you in situations where you’d get caught just so he can ‘save’ you. The way you hold unto him for dear life is…simply exhilarating)

But try as he might, he could never fill the hole you had in your heart. Your desire for a complete family. For validation. For Bruce to finally acknowledge your worth. For Damian to stop calling you a fucking waste of space.

You ended up screwing a mission so badly that you indirectly killed dozens of Gotham citizens.

Usually you would just compromise their positions during patrols but this was… this was something irreversible. Something that affected friends, families, actual living breathing people.

Bruce had a tight cap on his emotions, but he just couldn’t stop himself from taking out his anger, grief and frustration out on you.

Dick and Jason managed to pull him back before he could hurt you beyond a punch to the face, but the psychological damage had already been cemented.

You run away, running into Harley Quinn.

But instead of following the path my og jinx reader did, Joker wasn’t there to fuck with your head even further. So you sought to repay for your sins.

Still, the screams. The way Bruce called you useless, a jinx. The memories of being neglected and inferior.

Sometimes chaos was the only way to make it shut up.

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.7. THERE'S LIFE IN THESE WALLS

“and when you talked to me, all i heard was words i couldn’t say a thing, i only made it worse and i know it’s hard when you feel this way in love with my best friend but i can’t say a thing”

from dræm girl by no vacation, left in the nishinari art district, osaka

the first time he’d come into the darkroom with her, she had been nervous. it was still the beginning of their first year in college and the first time they had talked since high school graduation. yet despite how long it had been since she’d last seen him, everything she’d felt for him in high school came rushing back the moment she recognized him wandering around the photography department.

she’d accidentally frozen the moment she saw him. no matter how hard she willed her feet to move, she couldn't seem to move and her panic only increased when he saw her. his face lit up slightly and he approached her and she only stood there like an idiot, clutching onto her bag strap for some kind of emotional support.

“hey, i was looking for you,” he’d said. his voice was enough to make her mind go blank, and his actual words only made her feel like she had short-circuited.

“oh– really? why?” internally, she pointed out every single flaw of her response; how quickly she’d answered, how stupid her words were, and how her voice was so high he probably found it annoying.

“yeah,” he nodded with a small smile, “i heard from akaashi you were going to the darkroom today? i’ve been trying to get him to take me with him because i wanna learn about the process but he’s been busy and he suggested asking you if you’d let me watch.” it’d been a semi-truth, although she didn’t know that. akaashi would have taken him if he'd asked him, but he hadn't. he was interested in how photo processing worked, but only because of her. he wanted to learn about the process from her and he wanted to learn about what her interests were. in short, he was finally doing what he’d avoided doing throughout all of high school; get to know her.

“oh. yes. sure, that’d be fine,” she tried to formulate a lax response but on the inside, she was the complete opposite. the idea of him watching her made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear, but she tried to reason with herself that she knew what she was doing. she’d been doing this for years; she had plenty of practice and knowledge. if there was one thing she excelled at, it was anything about cameras and photos.

‘but that’ll just make it even more embarrassing if i mess up in front of him,’ she’d immediately countered herself and wanted to hit herself. but instead she tried to push down her anxieties and act calm. there was no reason for her to be anxious, and if she didn’t think about messing up, she’d reduce her chances of anything going wrong.

despite her best efforts to make small talk on their way to the dark room, she'd given up when she realized he was better at coming up with questions to fill the awkward silence. “what do you take photos of?” he’d asked after her last failed attempt to start a conversation.

she'd taken a moment to think before answering, “honestly? everything. i take pictures of whatever interests me. i do a lot of portraits for other people and i’ve been trying to get into engagement photography because it makes good money, but it’s definitely not my favorite. street photography is really cool because you can capture so many raw emotions. you never actually know what your picture will look like until you go back to examine it, because no one else knows you're even preserving the moment, you know?” he only nodded silently which made her face warm. “sorry, i rambled without thinking.”

“no, it’s okay. i asked you because i wanted to know,” he responded with a smile. “i was just curious. i heard you were offered a position as a sports photographer and it’s what you seemed to be doing all throughout high school so i was surprised you didn’t take it. but i’m guessing it wasn’t your thing? street photography sounds really cool, too. i actually do street art with atsumu sometimes, you know.”

“really? i didn’t know that!” the enthusiasm in her voice made his smile grow. he found it cute, he thought, how her nervousness had gradually given away into excitement as she talked about her passions. it was a far cry from how stiff they’d been during their first three years of knowing each other, and he hoped that she continued to grow more comfortable with him. “that’s actually what i’ll be processing in the darkroom today. i think it’s really cool how people can leave their marks on a city. to be honest, i haven't found a lot of graffiti in osaka yet but i like the idea of how even if we move away from here, or especially when we’re long gone, there will still be parts of us left behind through what’s written on these walls. there’s the couples who write about their love, or leave their lockets on bridges to immortalize their love even past the amount of time they'll be together and in the same way caveman left drawings on the wall, or egyptians wrote in hieroglyphics, graffiti is like a modern version of that. there’s so many emotions behind it,” she explained as they neared a door. on the front of it was a sign that read DARKROOM printed in large, capital letters.

“that’s a cool way of looking at it. i don’t think i ever made that connection but i’m gonna be thinking about that the next time we throw something up,” he replied as she unlocked the door, letting him walk in first. “and atsumu and i have seen a lot of art while we’ve been out. you just have to look in the right places. i can take you to some of my favorite spots sometime, if you want.”

“that would be nice,” she says, thankful that it goes dark as she shuts the door behind them, hiding the tint in her cheeks. “i’d really like that– actually. and uh, this is just a sort of buffer room because we want as little light as possible getting into the darkroom. i know it’s small,” she immediately clarifies, seeing how he turns, looking at the cramped space they’re standing in, the only light being a dim red emitting from a corner.

“oh, i get it. when you open the outside door, all the light comes in here but when you go into the actual darkroom, there’s no light entering,” he notes, seeming to find her in the dark. there’s no way he can really see her, and yet she can feel the weight of his gaze.

“exactly. and i usually leave anything i don’t need on this counter. we’re technically not allowed to have phones in the darkroom, but most people keep it on them anyway. and it's kind of becoming an outdated rule because now you can print using your phone but i still leave mine here. just out of habit,” she explains, slinging off her bag and placing everything on the counter. “i promise it’s brighter in the actual darkroom. it’s all red lighting so it feels a little satanic but you get used to it,” she smiles when she hears his huff of laughter as she grabs her roll of film from her bag. “there’s overhead lights, too, but we never know who else might be working in there or if anyone left anything out, so we leave them off unless there’s an emergency. are you ready?”

she sees him shift in the dark. “actually, before we go in, honestly i don’t know anything about the process. do you think it’d be easier to explain it to me beforehand so that i don’t slow you down while you work?”

“oh, sure,” she says, looking at the roll of film in her hand, “i don’t think you’d slow me down, but that’s probably a good idea. just so you have a brief introduction to everything.”

she keeps talking, and he thinks that he can get used to this. it had taken him a talk from osamu at graduation after three years of walking on eggshells around each other to finally open his eyes to the realization that nothing would happen between them if they never talked. he'd worried the entire summer about getting the opportunity to talk to her and how it would actually play out but today had gone better than he could have ever imagined. he’s heard her talk more than he ever has before, and best of all, she’s talking directly to him. it’s just them; no one distracting his attention away from her and no one to tease him for the way he’s looking at her right now, admiring the way her eyes shine even in the dark with life and passion about what she’s talking about, watching the fingers that are pulling at the edges of the roll she’s holding with skilled, steady hands he’s seen so often holding a camera, hiding her face behind it.

“are you even listening?” she’s looking up at him, a forgiving, teasing smile on her red lips. it pulls him out of this thoughts and he finds himself distracted by them instead.

“yeah, totally,” he says, trying to focus on her eyes instead. “something about chemicals?”

she thinks of the moment fondly as she’s approaching the dark room by herself. she’s just split up from akaashi, who walked with her to return some equipment he borrowed. she approaches the door, taking in a deep breath. she loves working by herself in silence, but unsurprisingly, he’s always in her head and she sees him in everything. when she opens the door, she always remembers watching him walk in first, and the way he looked at her while she tried to explain the process of developing photos to him.

and she thinks about him everytime she puts down her bag, she thinks about the roll she took out and developed with him, both the negatives and processed versions of them still hanging on her wall. and when she puts down her phone, thinking about what he texted her this morning, she notices the white plastic bag on the opposite side of the counter.

her curiosity gets the better of her, seeing a small slip of paper in front of the neatly tied bag, and she steps over to read the note in the dim red light above it.

“you’re always holding that camera up to your pretty face. always looking at the world through the lens of a camera. why don’t you stop and appreciate the beauty of it for a second?” ♡ rin

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bokuto came by y/n's apartment to force akaashi to take a break but while they were out for coffee konoha sent akaashi the "i'll vibe with you" meme and just completely broke him

akaashi is really going through it. double majors suck

suna has never used so many smiley faces in his life bc he didn’t know how else to express how texting y/n was making him feel <3

he was also late to practice because when y/n told him she'd be in the darkroom all day he went to buy food for y/n and then had to walk across campus to the arts building to leave it there for her (that's why he said "good to know" and then had to come up with an excuse for what he said <3)

and heads up y/n’s gonna really fight with calling him rin because she’s so worried he’s just trying to appease her so she has this whole kind of what if situation planned out of “if i call him ‘suna’ and he forgets ONE TIME to remind me to call him rin HE DOESN’T ACTUALLY WANT ME TO CALL HIM RIN AND HE HATES ME”

that will come up in like 9 chapters from now

guys i promise if ur not feeling these chapters THE PACE AND EVERYTHING IS ABOUT TO KICK IN BEAR W ME

also i thought i was doing well balancing written parts and full smau chapters but i realized all the written parts just came later in the story so forgive me pls

the way i see it, you can basically read this chapter’s song recc as the first one suna left on a wall for y/n <3 since this chapter has to do with a little bit about their first real interactions

this bullet point is specifically for @eggyrocks who has an amazing love notes playlist you should listen to!!! their amazing music taste is responsible for last chapter and today’s song reccs and ALSO the upcoming importance of title fight because they shared with me an amazing album (hyperview) AND I JUST NEED TO SAY EGGY it’s so amazing how your brain works bc the only title fight song you added to your playlist was trace me onto you AND THAT’S THE SPECIFIC TITLE FIGHT SONG THAT WILL COME UP LATER IN LOVE NOTES (i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense i’m going to try and explain it again, but basically out of the entire album, trace me onto you is the only one i’m actually using in this smau and i just think it’s so cool that it’s the only one you added to your love notes playlist!!! and thank you for your playlist because although i already had a song planned out to go with each chapter, since you made your love notes playlist i’ve changed some of them out for your songs <333 and this song was especially important with it being the "first lyrics" suna left behind or whatever and i think dræm girl fits SO WELL)

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @cr4yolaas @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[pigcowboys]

hiii!!! may i request headcannons or smth for doing arts n crafts or pottery with percy pleaseee!!! :3 thank youuu have a nice dayyy

pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

warning(s): mutual pining, kissing, fluff, incorrect pottery knowledge, physical touch.

summary: percy helps you with your pottery assignment

a/n: HI!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING :D, this request is adorable too I’ve always loved this pottery trope it’s so cliche 😭😭 im currently working on the missing FIC but! I wanted to post SOMETHING cause it’s been so long.

happy halloween to anyone who celebrates it!

percy peered into the arts and craft room curiously, looking around at the abandoned looking room. a smile made its way onto his face as he took notice of you, practically skipping over to you.

you huffed as you picked at the dried up clay on your hands, flinching slightly when percy slung a hand over you, pulling you towards him with a smile.

“what’re you doing?” he asked, peering over your shoulder curiously. you barely moved, adjusting your shoulder so he’d rest comfortably.

“making — or well, trying to make a vase.” you turned to look at him through your peripheral. percy stared at the discombobulated mess of clay that he assumed was your attempt at that.

“i’m guessing this is a more..artistic take on that.” he joked, nuzzling his face further into your shoulder. “did you come here to laugh at me or something?”

“truth? maybe.” he grinned. “that and, i just missed you.” you rested your head against his own which laid in the crook of your shoulder, cradling it with your clay stained hands.

“flattery will get you nowhere, percy.” you smiled at him. “but, i missed you too.” you leaned forward, moving Percy’s head out of your shoulder in the process. he moved to sit beside you, looking at the mess in front of you with a confused look. you met his gaze, offering him a dazed grin.

“do you want some help?”

“yes, please.”

percy laughed slightly, standing up and plopping down behind you. you adjusted to the feeling of him behind you, giggling slightly when his hands brushed your rib cage as it came to hold onto your waist.

you eyed him curiously before clearing the kiln of any excess clay. Percy watched closely as you placed a fresh lump of clay onto the wheel, watching closely as you began to toy with the shape of the clay. his head found it’s way over your shoulder as he braved against your back, removing his hands for your waist.

your breath caught in your throat at the proximity but paid it no mind, pushing down your anxiety in favor of focusing.

“here,” you said, motioning for Percy to bring his hands forward to which he did, hovering on the wheel with uncertainty as he waited for your next command. “shape the lower half, i’ll work on the top half, okay?”

percy hummed in agreement, leaning to the right of you as he used his lithe fingers to curve the lower half of the vase. you two worked in tandem despite the close proximity and the straying thoughts that would flash in your mind every few minutes about how you could feel percy’a breath against your neck.

you felt like you were going crazy, especially when your hands absentmindedly wander further down towards the lower half of the vase, grazing Percy’s own hands which were moving up at the same time. in real time the contact only lasted about a minute or two but you felt like the lasted well over ten.

it seriously didn’t help when Percy inched forward as you were turning to observer the wall mounted clock in the arts in crafts room, locking eyes with him for moment before whipping your head back to focus on what you were actually supposed to be doing.

the situation was so awkward and it was only punctuated by percy talking enthusiastically about something that crossed his mind as you tried your best to listen to what he had to say. though, at this point you were down for the count and there wasn’t anyway to just slip out from the position you’d put yourself in.

your mind wandered and you turned to look at percy as he spoke, mind getting caught on the pinkish hue of his lips. they looked, regular — you guessed. just..really nice. and inviting. and cute kind of? can lips be cute? maybe not, but, his were.

Percy trailed off as he caught wind of the fact you were zoned out, fixating his eyes towards wherever it was you were looking at and flushing when he did. a nervous laugh slipped through him that caused you to snap out your daze as he murmured out your name.

“you’re not listening are you?”

“i am.”

“y’know I hate that I doubt that.”

you frowned, a bad attempt at looking offended by the complete and total truth that Percy was accusing you of doing.

“what makes you think I’m not?” you asked, turning back to focus on shaping the clay. percy stilled for a moment before leaning forward, breath fanning against the shell of your ear.

“ the fact you keep staring longingly at my lips.”

you flinched at the sound of his voice, whipping your head back to look at him and simultaneously digging into the clay that was still rotating. you cursed, removing your hands from the wheel as you shifted out from your spot in-front of Percy.

he looked at you with slight amusement as he stopped the spinning, getting up to follow after you, who had walked over to the sink — washing your hands furiously while also trying to calm your racing heart.

percy walked over slowly, observing you silently before taking a spot next to you to wash his hands. you didn’t spare him a glance when he did, only shifting slightly so he’d get access to the sink as well.

“ are you embarrassed or something?” he spoke up suddenly

“wh—” You snapped your head towards Percy with a genuine look of bewilderment in your face. “no!” you frowned at him, heart beating in your ears and he stared you down. well, you had to give it to him, the guy had amazing eye contact.

“you just caught me off guard.”

“caught off guard or caught red handed?”

“caught off guard.”

percy looked at you like he trying to analyze you, hands flapping in the wind as he shook off the water that was on his hands. you turned your back towards him, reaching for the towel that was a near the sink, drying your hands. now, how were you supposed to come up with an excuse that could get you out of this?

“hey,” Percy spoke once more, a slight seriousness in the tone of his voice. you turned your head towards him curiously. “we could try it.”

“try..?”

“kissing.”

“each other?” you asked, complete shock on your face.

“no, the clay.” he quipped, expression faltering when his response was met with silence from your end. “it’s..okay if you don’t want to — i just thought it would be.. uhm, good for practice?”

“yeah, cause i kiss people every other month or so.”

he shrugged. “you could be living a double life.” you shot him a look, a sigh escaping you. he wasn’t joking right? like, this wasn’t a prank..right? you racked your brain from specifics, trying your hardest to walk through the idea before reluctantly opting to give into it.

it was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

“c’mere,” you murmured, and Percy obeyed your order almost immediately. your breath caught in your throat as he approached you carefully, placing his hand on your shoulder. you looked up at him like a deer in headlights, causing a laugh — or more like a cackle to escape his lips.

you gave him an unamused look. percy smiled warmly, clearing his throat before moving his hands towards the underside of your chin, angling it up. you closed your eyes expectantly, gulping as Percy’s breath fanned over your lips.

he hesitated for a moment before leaning in and locking lips with you after a pause. you pursued your lips against his own, hands coming to rest on his chest as you fiddled with the strings of his hoodie.

you were stiff in his hold, something that he could feel as he pressed into your body. his other hand reached up to rest on your hands which was rested against his chest in attempt to soothe your nerves. you relaxed in his hold, titling your head slightly as you pull back for air before going back in.

Percy pulled away from the kiss finally, a small sigh escaping his lips as he gazed at you longingly. he opened his mouth to say something, lips pressing shut as he stood in silence. you felt as if it was now your turn to ease the tension, a smile breaking out on your face in an attempt to soothe his fears.

“that was..a solid 8/10..”

percy grinned, removing his hand from under your chin as he cradled your torso. “2 points off?” he smiled. “How come?”

You shrugged. “you were pretty stiff.”

“you’re talking?”

you punched him playfully, sliding out of his grip carefully as you inches back towards the wheel.

“come on, let’s finish this, okay?” you turned towards him. “i’lil let you do a redo afterwards.”

percy stared at you with starstruck eyes, briskly walking back over to the pottery station.

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: namjoon wants a raise & y/n is kind of scary

i watched the proposal again recently + i’ve been on depop trying not to spend a million dollars on all the y2k corporate-core clothes = inspired me to write this snippet of ceo!y/n (you all know i have a soft spot for anything ceo i’m sorry) 

“ever since you hired me, i’ve managed to boost sales up by approximately 28%-“ namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to continue standing tall as he points to the screen with his little laser pen, “i’ve been working here for nearly a year and a half which you can argue hasn’t been very long, but at the same time i feel as though my efforts and the results that i’ve produced is well deserving of a raise, miss y/l/n. i wasn’t going to say anything but i’ve actually been offered a position elsewhere with a higher salary, and, well- i do enjoy working here, and i would like to stay here, but-“ 

you lean back against your office chair, propping both elbows up on the arm chairs before pressing your fingertips together, staring intently at the presentation in front of you 

your eyes follow the little red dot darting across the screen and you lick over your teeth as your head tilts to the side slightly 

“-so, what do you think?” namjoon reaches the end of his presentation and tucks his pen into his shirt pocket, very much aware of how much heat is radiating off his body from the nerves 

he’s heard some things about people who’ve tried to ask for raises, and making the bold move of coming directly to you has historically never ended very well for those guys 

jungkook presses the button for the lights to turn on and the blinds to roll back up from where he’s standing by the front door, offering namjoon a smile and a supportive nod 

at least five seconds of silence linger in the air and namjoon wonders if you’re able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest 

you’ve also been maintaining eye contact with him the entire time he’s presented which makes him ten times as nervous because he’ll be the first to admit you have very nice eyes 

“…i think all of this could’ve been an email, kim.” you lean forward, office chair squeaking slightly as you swipe your phone off the table and unlock it, “the next time you want something, i don’t need a thirty-eight minute presentation on why you think you deserve it.” 

“ma’am?” namjoon’s face reddens and suddenly it feels like the collar of his button-up is suffocating him 

“who’s trying to poach you from me?” 

“i-if you don’t mind, i’d like to keep that detail priv-“ namjoon immediately stops talking when your eyes flicker up from your phone to look at him through your eyebrows, “ah- min corporations, miss y/l/n. i was contacted by their secretary last week.” 

“mm, i’ve spoken to that secretary. preppy little thing.” you snort, eyebrow raising slightly at the memory of the one time you got a call on your personal cell phone from min corporations (you’re not even sure how that secretary got your damn number in the first place) inviting you to a lunch with mr. min yoongi himself 

you went, of course, more than surprised to discover that the secretary wasn’t just his secretary but also his wife and the mother of his (adorable) daughter 

you don’t know how she managed to go from secretary all the way to wife/mother but hat’s off to her for pulling that off

with that being said you’re sure that if she spoke three decibels higher all the dogs in the city would start barking and all the windows in your office would’ve cracked 

“you’re a hard worker. i like having you on my team.” you set your phone face down on your desk, “get back to work. we can discuss numbers another day because if you make me look at another excel spreadsheet i might change my mind.” 

“oh, i- thank you so much, miss y/l/n, i really appreciate it! thank you so much-“ namjoon fumbles with the projector and switches it off, a weight instantly lifted off his shoulders at the implication that he will, in fact, be getting a raise 

“mm.” you gesture with a flick of your wrist for him to leave your office as you raise your phone to your ear, “min yoongi! trying to steal my star salesman, are you?” 

jungkook opens the door for namjoon, stepping aside to let him out before shutting the door behind him quietly 

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jungkook beams, giving namjoon a hearty pat on the arm, “congratulations on the raise!” 

“i think i need to take a shot or something, that was- so stressful.” namjoon lets out a breath, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, “god, she really- her eye contact is crazy intense sometimes-“ 

“it’s probably the eyeliner in her waterline making her look ten times scarier, you’ll survive-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for eyeliner recommendations (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to your other faves!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

The Get Back

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Qimir x F!Reader

Summary: Your husband is the leader of one of the biggest crime syndicates in the city. A smaller organization has the audacity to try to hurt you. Well, they come to learn very quickly that no one messes with you or your husband.

Qimir Masterlist

You’re wandering the night market, appearing to be blissfully aware of the two men that have been following you for the past few hours.

You’re accompanied by your friend, Mae, who is secretly your protector during this little mission.

You hook your arm around hers, pulling her in to give the idea of two friends giggling and gossiping, “I’m surprised they haven’t tried anything yet.”

Mae gives her best laugh, subtly looking around. When her “laughter” fades, she pretends to giggle and whisper something amusing, but she replies, “They’re closing in. We should head to the rendezvous point.”

You nod and you both walk arm and arm towards the more secluded and empty area of the night market. While the general public crowd near the food stalls, you and Mae head towards the darker area of the night market.

As soon as people are out of sight, several men appear, surrounding you and Mae.

A significantly large, hairy man steps forward, gun in hand, “Now ladies, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if you make things difficult.”

You look to Mae and nod, both of you hold your hands up and you say, “Fine. Take us. Just don’t hurt anyone.”

You two are immediately grabbed, wrists zip tied together and blindfolds going over your eyes.

You and Mae don’t fight as you’re practically thrown into the back of a car. Once the car starts moving, you press the tracking button on the bracelet your husband had given you as a wedding gift.

_____________________

“It’s activated,” Osha says, watching the little dot appear on the laptop. She looks over her shoulder to her leader sitting in the back seat. He gives her a nod and Osha immediately demands the driver to follow the dot on the screen.

She then looks back to her boss, “They’ll be okay.”

The corner of her boss’ mouth twitches and he says, “Are you telling me or yourself that?”

“Both? They know what to do if things go south.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his black hair, “I shouldn’t have let her do this.”

“She knew the risks and knows what she’s doing. Have more trust in her.”

His jaw clenches, “I do trust her. It’s them I don’t trust.”

___________________

You didn’t appreciate being manhandled. They grabbed and held you with bruising grips. You bit your tongue to not lash out insults. You had to follow the plan.

You and Mae are lead to some warehouse near the docks. You know from the sound of the water nearby. How original.

You’re forced into a chair, hands still zip tied behind your back. Your blindfold gets pulled and it takes you a few blinks for your vision to correct.

You see an older man, ginger beard and a scar going across his eye. You immediately recognize him and scoff, “Torbin? You’re the mole? Color me surprised.”

The man clenches his jaw, “Didn’t think I’d be able to pull this off, huh? Proved you wrong, didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes, “Please. Kidnapping me to get to my husband? Work of an amateur. And picking a warehouse on the docks? So unoriginal!”

The large man from before slapped you across the face. The sound echoing throughout the warehouse. You do your best to ignore the stinging and glare up at him, “You’re going to regret that.” He scoffs at you, raising his hand to strike you again.

“Don’t, Kelnacca. What did I tell you about damaged goods?”

The man, Kelnacca, lowers his hand and steps away from you.

Mae takes the opportunity to speak up, “So what’s this about? You’re upset that the boss wouldn’t give you more power?”

“I deserved to be his right hand. Not your or your sister! I’ve been in this job much longer and he gives the position to you two!”

You roll your eyes and groan, “So what’s the point you’re trying to make here, Torbin? Kidnap me and demand the position of right hand?”

The man snorts, “No, fuck that. I have bigger plans. You don’t know how many people were ready to betray your husband. Everyone is tired of his control and they wanted a new person, someone that won’t rule for their own selfish reasons.”

Mae rolls her eyes, “And this isn’t selfish?”

“I’ll make sure my people are well equipped and provided. Not the scraps that He’s given us.”

“He provides for those who deserves it. You’ve never deserved, Torbin.”

Torbin immediately pulls out a gun and points it at you. You narrow your eyes at him, “You won’t do it. You need me for negotiations.”

“True, but I don’t need her,” he points the gun at Mae. You look at her and she has no ounce of fear on her face.

“Do it. I dare you, but just know, my sister won’t have mercy on you if you do.” Mae says with confidence. You know she’s right and as does Torbin.

He grits his teeth and lowers his gun. He grips his hair and yells, “FUUUUCK!” The cries echoing throughout the building.

Then a man comes running in, yelling, “They’re here!”

“Finally. Let the show begin,” Torbin rushes to you, pulling you to your feet. He stands behind you, gun pointed to your head.

Your husband’s familiar SUV rolls up and it’s barely parked when he steps out, Osha following behind him.

His presence oozes confidence and intimidation, something that Torbin lacks.

“Evening, Torbin,” he says calmly as one of Torbin’s men pats him down and then to Osha.

“They’re clear.”

Torbin can’t help but laugh, “Got ya now, didn’t I? After all those years, didn’t expect I’d turn on you like this, eh?”

Your husband sighs and shakes his head, “I must say that I’m extremely disappointed in you, Torbin.”

“Disappointed that an old friend got the better of you?”

Your husband shakes his head and then smirks, “Disappointed that you didn’t catch on sooner.”

Torbin looks at your husband confused and you take the opportunity to stomp on his foot and throw your head back with as much force as you can.

The action disorients him and then all hell breaks loose. Mae breaks free and starts throwing around her hidden daggers that she kept in her boots. She takes down the men surrounding her and then rushes to you, cutting the zip ties from your wrists.

Knives and bullets fly as you rush to your husband, “Qi-“

“You’re hurt,” he lightly grazes your swollen cheek. His eyes darken in anger, “I’ll-“

“Don’t,” you look over your shoulder to see Osha, Mae, and several of your husband’s men that posed as double agents, fighting and killing Torbin’s men, “They’ve got it handled.”

“NO!” You hear a yell and both of you look back to see Torbin limping towards you two, nose bloody and gun in hand.

“You can’t have it all!” He yells. He slowly raises the gun and a shot rings out.

Qimir looks at you, his gun in your hand. The barrel smoking from the shot you took.

Torbin collapses onto the ground, a clean shot to the head.

You scowl, “Always thought he was annoying.”

Qimir smirks, kissing your temple and taking the gun from his hand, “Well done, Trouble.” He tucks the gun back in his pants and slips his hand into yours, “Let’s get you cleaned up. The twins can take it from here.”

You follow him back into his SUV, curling into his side after he tells his driver to head back home.

He wraps a protective arm around you, kissing your head again. Against your temple, he murmurs, “Don’t get involved again. I can’t take the anxiety it gives me.”

You give him a playful pout, “Where’s the fun in that?”

He smirks and leaning in, pecking your lips, “Troublemaker.” He then pulls you closer and you two sit in silence for the remainder of the ride.

All in a night’s work.