#if we were just left to question what's next

[d-z20]

Extra Credit part 2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: So the sex with your student's guardian turned out to be more than a one-time-thing and after not responding to a text from Agatha, she finds you before school the next day deciding to take matters into her own hands... no matter who could find you

-OR-

She fucks you in a supply closet before school starts

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Agatha's a MILF, semi-publicish sex, almost getting caught, smidge of praise, fingering (R recv)

Words: 1.6k

A/N: Just a quick little something before the weekend starts :) There is use of Mx as an honorific which it's pronounced 'mix' or 'mux' depending on ya accent

AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

The thing about secret flings is that they demand discretion. And the thing about Agatha Harkness is that she doesn’t give a damn about discretion.

Which is exactly why you find yourself pinned against the supply closet door, barely holding in a gasp as her lips press insistently against your throat.

“Agatha,” you hiss, hands gripping her shoulders, half to push her away, half to keep yourself standing. “We are in a school.”

“And?” she murmurs against your skin, her voice dripping with amusement. “You think this is the first time an inappropriate affair has taken place in these hallowed halls?”

You groan, pressing a hand against her chest to create some distance—only for her to grab your wrist and pin it beside your head. “You’re terrible.”

“You like that about me.”

You wish she were wrong. You wish you could push her away; ignore the fire curling in your stomach. But every time she touches you or teases you, you're undone all over again—helpless against the force of her.

It started as a mistake. Well, maybe not a mistake—mistakes implied regret, and you weren’t sure you regretted anything that had happened that night in her kitchen. What had begun as a harmless parent-teacher conference had escalated into something far more salacious the moment she cornered you against your desk, her dark eyes glinting with challenge. And since then, Agatha had made it her personal mission to find new and exciting ways to make you weak in the knees—especially in situations where it was wildly inappropriate.

Like now, for instance.

Twenty minutes earlier, you had barely managed to slip into your classroom before she appeared behind you, her hands already on your waist, her lips at your ear.

“You left me waiting this morning,” she murmured, her voice low and syrupy, though laced with feigned offence. “That’s terribly rude of you, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could even begin to question what she meant, she was already moving, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your hips.

“W-waiting?” You echoed, cursing yourself for how easily she could make you stumble over something as simple as a word.

Agatha hummed, her breath warm against the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Mhm. I sent you a message last night, darling.” Her tone was light, teasing—but the pressure of her hands suggested she wasn’t above making you pay for your oversight. “Something deliciously sinful, if I do say so myself.”

Your stomach dropped. Oh god. You had seen the text.

It had popped up sometime around midnight, and you’d stupidly glanced at the preview—just enough to make out a few wickedly suggestive words that left you blushing in the dark. But instead of responding, you’d panicked, tossed your phone aside, and buried your face in your pillow, hoping sleep would erase the heat pooling in your stomach.

Apparently, Agatha had noticed your silence.

“I figured you’d wake up eager to... respond,” she went on, one hand drifting just beneath the hem of your top, her fingers skimming the bare skin of your stomach. “And yet, I had to drink my morning coffee alone.” She sighed dramatically, as if the slight were truly unforgivable. “No text. No call. Not even an apology.”

You swallowed hard. “I—I was busy!”

She chuckled, finally pulling back just enough for you to turn and face her. Her expression was unreadable at first, but her dark eyes glittered with amusement. “Were you?” she mused, tilting her head as though considering your excuse. “Or were you just being a tease?”

“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she interrupted, shaking her head with mock disappointment. “You know what happens to naughty little things who ignore me, don’t you?”

The words sent a shiver straight down your spine. You opened your mouth to protest—whether to deny, to plead, or to offer some pathetic excuse, you weren’t sure—but Agatha was already on the move.

And before you could so much as protest, she had manoeuvred you into the nearest supply closet and shut the door behind her. So here you are in this very compromising situation with her lips on your neck and her hands on your waist.

“Agatha,” you try again, your voice more breathless than stern. “I have students coming in twenty minutes.”

Her smirk deepens, fingers trailing down to the waistband of your pants, her touch featherlight. "Well, I suppose I’ll have to be quick.”

You shiver, your head falling back against the door as she leans in, her lips brushing against your jaw. “You are insatiable.”

She hums in agreement, her mouth trailing lower, and her hand dipping into your pants.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat as her fingers push past the fabric, trailing slow, agonising circles over fevered skin. Your muscles tense, a quiet tremor rolling through you, anticipation warring with restraint. She moves with infuriating ease, fingers slipping between your thighs like she already knows exactly how to unravel you. And maybe she does, considering the way your breath stutters, your knees threatening to give way beneath you.

“You’re already this wet for me?” She berates, her voice thick with amusement, her fingers making light work of you. “How very inappropriate, Mx. Y/L/N.”

You bite your lip, your hands clutching at her coat in some desperate attempt to keep yourself upright as her fingers work you open, dragging pleasure from you with infuriating precision. Your mind is struggling—grasping at some semblance of rational thought, but all you can focus on is her touch, the way her fingers curl inside you, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

Somewhere in the fog of your pleasure, a fleeting thought breaks through. “D-don’t you have to be somewhere?” You manage, your voice barely above a whimper. “Work or—oh, fuck—something?”

Agatha chuckles against your skin, her breath hot against your throat. “You’re adorable when you try to be responsible,” she murmurs.

Before you can retort—before you can even think—someone speaks from the hallway.

“Mx. Y/L/N?”

The doorknob rattles—once, then again. Every muscle in your body locks, breath frozen in your throat. Agatha, the menace, merely smirks, fingers still moving, as if daring you to crack under the pressure.

It’s one of your colleagues; their voice muffled through the door but far too close for comfort. Agatha, to her credit, barely seems perturbed. If anything, she looks entertained, her head tilting as she watches you with sharp amusement.

You slap a hand over her mouth before she can make this any worse. However, her fingers keep moving, pumping in and out of you, slow and deliberate, forcing you to bite back the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape.

“I—yes?” You call out, praying your voice sounds normal.

“Do you have any extra curriculum outlines for the staff meeting? Principal Carter needs a few more copies.”

Staff meeting. Right. The one you’re currently missing because you’re too busy being manhandled by an absurdly attractive single mom.

“Uh, yeah! Just—just give me a second, I’ll bring them right out!”

There’s a pause. You can practically hear your colleague frowning. “Are you okay in there?”

Agatha takes the opportunity to gently pry your hand from her mouth, bringing it to her lips and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. “You’re doing so well,” she praises, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “But I think you can be a little quieter, don’t you?”

You glare at her, but it’s a feeble effort considering the way your entire body is trembling, pleasure tightening in your core with every agonising stroke of her fingers.

“Yes! Just—just organising some things!” you reply, forcing out a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound as wrecked as you feel.

A beat of silence. Then, mercifully, footsteps retreat down the hall.

You exhale in relief, your body sagging against Agatha’s. She, of course, is grinning like the devil himself.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mutter, only to be cut off by a moan when she thrusts her fingers particularly deeply, the pleasure sharp and devastating.

She tilts her head, her free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “Am I?”

“You almost got me fired!”

She chuckles, her fingers still coaxing you toward the inevitable. “Sweetheart, if you think that’s enough to get you fired, you clearly underestimate how much your principal hates paperwork.”

The words barely register because, in that moment, your orgasm crests—high and all-consuming—your body shuddering against her as waves of bliss flood through you.

She holds you through it, her touch never leaving, fingers easing you down gently as you gasp into her shoulder, your legs still trembling.

You sigh, already resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to sprint to the staff meeting and pretend like you hadn’t just been ruined against a shelf full of printer paper.

Agatha leans in one last time, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before finally, mercifully, stepping back. “I suppose I’ll let you get back to work,” she says, far too smug for your liking.

You smooth your hands down your clothes, clearing your throat. “You are impossible.”

She winks. “And you love it.”

You don’t dignify that with an answer—mostly because she’s right. Again.

As she slips out of the closet and disappears down the hallway, you let out a slow breath, shaking your head.

This woman is going to be the death of you.

-----

it seems I write getting fucked in a supply closet quite frequently 😂 don't ask me how she went to the school without raising suspicions from Billy because I don't know, if I did I would've written it 😭😂

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

45 ┆Oh. (0.5k words)

Honestly, you were confused as to why Wonyoung dragged you to the club room without any explanation. She even left you there, saying that she would be back to let you out.

Did you do something bad to deserve a time out from your previous club president?

You had so many questions to ask her when she returned.

On the other hand, Jungwon was nervous. What if you didn’t see him the same way? Him and Wonyoung had spoken about confessing to you when the two hung out, but he was unsure.

He couldn’t tell the boys either. They would tease him too much before offering him any help.

The ding from his phone gained his attention, making his over consuming thoughts disappear. It was from Wonyoung. Her message read the words, ‘coast is clear’, with a thumbs up and grinning emoji. 

Reality was now sinking in. Yang Jungwon was going to confess to the girl he liked. Something he had never experienced before. 

He rummaged in his pocket for the key to the club room and inserted it into the lock. 

“Jungwon?” You called, turning around to look at him. He was barely visible in your vision. The club room was dimmed due to the inactivity of the space. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a bashful smile. You examined his figure, taking note of how blonde his hair appeared and how his hands remained behind him.

“Oh, here.” He said while handing you a bouquet of daisies.

“I didn’t know what flowers you liked… I just went off of what you posted recently.” 

“What’s going on?” You asked, confused. It was a valid reaction. One, you were randomly brought to the club room you rarely visited ever since you began helping the yearbook club, and two, the boy who you thought liked another girl was currently handing you flowers.

What the hell was happening?

You looked at him with furrowed brows as his eyes stared into yours. He seemed hesitant and nervous. 

“Jungwon,” you began, about to ask him the same question from before.

“What’s—”

“I like you.” He interrupted, leaving you stunned.

“I truly do like you and get all flustered when we’re close to each other. It’s kind of bad, but I’m not ashamed of it. You’re genuinely an amazing person and I failed to realize it for the last three years. Instead, I shielded your true self with the one I made up in my head after we got off on the wrong foot.” Jungwon explained.

You paused as Jungwon watched you for any signs of emotion. However, worry washed over him in an instant. You stayed silent longer than Jungwon expected you to. What if you didn’t see him the same way and he had poured his heart out to you for nothing?

What if you were going to humiliate him after all of this?

“Sorry I—”

“What about Wonyoung? You don’t like her?” You asked, cutting him off while feeling all flustered and confused.

“What—No, of course not. Why would I?” His brows furrowed in confusion. What were you talking about?

“You two were always together and got pretty close to each other recently…”

“Would you believe it if I said she was helping me with my feelings this whole time? She found out because of the video I sent her of the arts night event… It was kind of embarrassing, but luckily it brought me here.”

“Oh.”

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — me and those Oh. endings LMAOO

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[mattsbrowser]

| summary: you ask chris to try a tiktok trend

| warnings: smut, riding, cursing, missionary, dirty talk?

Chris and I were lying in bed, Chris watching some YouTubers I don’t know the name of, and me scrolling through TikTok with my head against his chest with his arm around my shoulder. After a while, I come across a couple's video. They have a filter called ‘Ranking types of kisses’; they take turns acting out each kiss. I pause the video and turn to look up at Chris.

“Hey—Chris?” I ask quietly. “Hmm?” He says, moving his eyes slowly from the screen to look at me with a closed-mouth smile. “Can we get this, uh— TikTok trend?” I ask, slightly embarrassed for asking him to make a TikTok. He looks down at my phone, moving his head closer to mine. “What trend?” he questions.

I shift to sit up next to him as his arm falls down to my waist. “Okay, so—basically, you have to rank the kisses 1-10 after I demonstrate them on you,” I say, scrolling through the videos under the sound. Chris nods, taking in what happens in each video. “Mk, I don’t mind,” he shrugs. I smile at my phone and press ‘use filter’ before handing it to Chris.

“Okay, record,” I say, pointing to the big pink button outlined in white at the bottom of the screen. He presses record, and the filter starts moving. The first kiss to come up was ‘air kiss,’ which Chris rates at 8 because “it’s ‘cute.’” I let out a giggle as he continues. A few more go by, leaving only 2 left; the only spaces free are #1 and #9. Chris waits for the filter to go through all the kisses before he smirks at the phone, ‘French kiss.’. He looks over at me with a smirk as I smile back and roll my eyes playfully.

I tilt my head to the left, and my tongue enters his mouth. I move my mouth in rhythm with his as our tongues fight for dominance. Chris places the phone down gently, his hand moving to my jaw to tilt my head deeper. I place my hands around his neck as his hands move to my hips, pulling me to straddle him.

I slightly move back and forth, slowly pulling a groan from his lips into mine. He holds me down to grind harder against him, causing a moan to slip from my lips. He pulls away and drops his head back onto the headboard with his eyes shut and his jaw agape. “Fuck,” he breathes out as a groan. I continue swirling my hips on top of him, causing light moans to pour from his pink, swollen lips.

I bite my lip and smile as I watch his face contorting and biting his own lip to try to muffle the noises. I lean forward with my hands placed on his abdomen, placing kisses all along his jawline before moving to his neck. I find his sweet spot erupting a moan from him. “Y/N,” he whispers. “Hmm?” I hum against him. He lets out another groan before moving his hands all over my body.

His hand reaches up behind my neck to where my pink halter neck top is tied. I place my hands on the top of his thighs and look at him as I feel his hands fidgeting. He unties the knot at the back of my neck, causing my top to fall down on both sides, revealing my tits to him. His eyes stay fixated on them as I smile and giggle before taking off my whole top, leaving me in just black, fresh love sweats.

“Fuck me,” he whispers to himself. “I was planning on it,” I whisper back with a smile. Chris lets out another groan, leaning his head against the headboard once again. I let out a chuckle before pulling his top over his head. I stroke my fingers down his chest, slowly tracing the faint outline of his oncoming abs. I bite my lip before meeting his eyes again. He gives me a cheeky smile before pulling me in for another deep, passionate kiss.

I let out a groan into the kiss as his tongue swirls around my mouth. I move my hands to his sweats, shifting them down slightly before pulling back from the kiss and moving myself off of his lap. I pull his sweats all the way down before taking them off and throwing them on the floor. I stand up and pull off my own sweats, leaving me in a black, lacy thong. I crawl back over Chris and straddle him again.

He lets out a sigh before placing his hands on my hips again. “Please, Y/N, I’m so hard,” he practically whines. “Really? And what do you want me to do, hmm?” I ask, leaning in closer to him. He lets out a light groan before speaking, “Ride me,” he whispers. I flash him a smile before straightening up. Taking his waistband of his Calvin Klein in my fingertips, I move them down before discarding them on the floor with the rest of our clothes.

I shift up to my knees, moving my thong to the side and aligning his dick to my pussy. I slowly sink down with a gasp before Chris fully bottoms out. I let out a moan and throw my head back. I lean forward and place my hands on his chest as I begin to move my hips in a circle. “Fuuuuckkk,” he moans out, his hands going to my waist to guide me. I begin to quicken up my pace, leaning back to straighten up once again.

My hands move from Chris’ chest to my own body, roaming around before landing on my tits. Chris looks up in awe as he watches me feel myself up. I place my hands on my boobs and push them up and around with a moan. Chris lets out a loud moan as he watches this scene in front of him. My hands move up to my neck and into my hair as I continue moving my hips back and forward, side to side, and in circles.

I lean forward again and flip my hair to the side as I begin to bounce up and down on Chris’ dick, my hands back on his chest again. He holds a tight grip on my hips as his own fucks up against me to match my rhythm. “Oh, Chris,” I moan. “Yeah? That feels good, hmm?” I let out a whine and nod my head as he quickens his pace. I lean down on his chest after a while, leaning my forehead against my forearms as I continue bouncing on his dick.

Chris notices my lack of energy and my slowed movements. Within seconds he flips me over and onto my back; I gasp as he pulls my legs up over his shoulders and fucks into me at a ruthless pace. My eyes roll to the back of my head as my mouth drops open. Chris can’t help but nearly cum at the sight of the fucked-out expression on your face. He leans down, causing my body to bend in half.

“So cock drunk, hmm? Such a little slut for me,” he whispers against my ear. I let out a whine as I bite my lip and shut my eyes. Chris looks down at my stomach, noticing the bulge his dick has made. He slowly presses down on it, causing me to let out a loud moan, “That’s right, baby, feel it.”

“Chris I’m— I’m gonna,” I cut myself off as my back slightly arched with a moan. “Fuck, you feel so good,”he groans as his pace stays steady. I grip the pillow behind my head as I squint my eyes shut. “Chris, fuck—I’m so—c-close,” I cry out, my legs slightly trembling around his neck. He reaches a hand down to my clit and starts to rub slow circles. I let out a guttural moan as I grip the pillows even harder.

“Chris,” I cry out again, “let go, angel,” he coos. My legs tremble around his head as my back arches. I let out a guttural moan, release pouring out of me and onto the base of Chris’ dick. He continues to fuck me through my high before pulling out and finishing himself. He crashes on top of me, both of us out of breath. Chris reaches over to the nightstand and picks up my phone.

“yeah french kiss is definitely number 1”

tags: @pvssychicken @idontcare4urmom @summerchris @kaisturni @muwapsturniolo @slutt4matt @pearlzier @sturniolosiphone @dirtylittleheart333 @chaossturns @banqnakilp @sturnsmadl @aniesvision @lianaloverr @chriss-slut @obsidianbaby @sturniologals @l34n @likeumeanit9497 @teddybearbad @iluvmattsbeard @miss-sturn @kiibichio @meerkatzthings @mattscoquette @pkfferoo @slxt4chriss @mqttittude @fratbrochrisgf @sofieeeeex-blog @watercolorskyy @ifwdominicfike @luvs4matt @esioleren @angelic-l0ver @blahbel668 @mattsturnswife @conspiracy-ash @chriseatingmeoutin4k @chrissypoosworld @izusbae @stvrnmc @sophand4n4 @matts-myloverboy @zayluvss @ivysturnss @mattsfavoritestar @emely9274 @courta13

[aninipanin1]

Hello!!! I have a little suggestion for the manager!reader series.... What if manager!reader made tiktoks/little skits around each stratum for blue lock tv promotional content? I can imagine a lot of people fighting for the spot next to the reader when they do silly tiktok trends hehe ( ＾ω＾ )

Anyways, that's all from me!!! Take care of yourself, and thank you! (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

SUSPECT!

Notes: I don't have TikTok so I don't know much about it. But this turned out to be more player focused lmao enjoy!

"We have to do a what?"

"Some tiktok challenges. Our media manager has already made you guys an account and um, they want you to film some videos so the show can get even more popular!"

You can hear most of them groaning in complaint. Its not that they do not use the app, but most of them could not care less about the cameras or how popular the show could get. As long as they got to continue playing and being in Blue Lock, then everything is all good.

"Can I not join in, Y/n-chan?" Niko asked and most of them soon followed, asking the same question.

"Eh? Oh okay...um, I'll try convincing the JFU but...they said you need to be in it." You said, a sad look in your eyes, knowing that the JFU would probably scold you again when they found out you let the boys do whatever they wanted again.

Isagi, being one of the most sensitive ones in the group, noticed the look in your face. Now, if it was just him, he would also rather say no to whatever the JFU wanted. But knowing that you will probably struggle in convincing the higher ups, and the possibility of you being scolded again, he straightened his posture before clearing his throat.

"Actually, Y/n-chan. We'll do the filming! Right guys?" He said, a fake smile on his face as the rest were just confused.

"What? You do it alone-" Otoya was about to say when Isagi elbowed his side discreetly, before giving a chilling smile.

"Right, Otoya! We'll all do it, Y/n-chan! What do we do?"

Most of them did not like the sound of that, but seeing your face light up in happiness made them get what Isagi wanted. So they just shut their mouths up and let you tell them what to do.

"It's been a while since we even used our phones for fun, didn't know so many trends already came and go." Karasu said as he listened to the trend they were supposed to be doing.

"How do you do this 'suspect' trend, Y/n-chan?" Bachira asked, peeking his head through your shoulder to look at the tablet in your hand where a video of the said trend played.

"So basically, one person will be filming another. The one shown in the camera will be running while the one holding the camera would call them 'suspect' before saying something about themselves that is embarrassing or funny. That's the gist of it, but you all can say what you want, as long as it doesn't cross too many lines."

Oh.

Oh.

A shiver ran through your spine at the smirk on everybody's face. Of course, they all knew each other's deepest habits and secrets, perks of living with each other in this large facility. And exposing and dissing each other? Oh, this was just the thing they have been waiting for.

And that was when you wondered if you picked the wrong trend for the boys to do.

"Um okay, I'll be doing something else in the meantime. I'll leave you with this phone so you guys can film. Um, you can go in whatever order you want. Please try to keep the language to a minimum as possible."

You said nervously, handing a phone provided by the facility to Rin, who just accepted it without a thought. You personally did not know how to feel about this. You trusted them, but definitely not enough to say the weirdest and most out of context things, especially when it comes to their fellow Blue Lock players.

'Oh god, I hope they dont end up fighting...'

The moment you left, they immediately went up to Rin to set up everything and started to point on who will be the scapegoat and be the first one.

"I vote for Barou to go first." Nagi said with a yawn, which only angered the said striker.

"What did you say, you lazyass? How about YOU go first?"

"Hey, hey no fighting!" Bachira cheered.

"Yeah. Hmm, how about rock paper scissors, and whoever loses gets to be the sacrifice." Hiori commented, to which most of them agreed.

It took a while to play the said games due to their number, but as the minutes passed and more and more people won and got eliminated. It was all left to Otoya and Chigiri.

"It's missy versus ninjass!" Karasu laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Karasu!" Chigiri muttered, taking the game very seriously.

But, lady luck wasn't on his side today as he pulled out paper and Otoya pulled out scissors.

"YES! GOODLUCK MISSY!" Otoya cheered. Chigiri fell to his knees at the lost before being pushed up by Isagi, who was laughing at his misery.

Being the one who currently held the phone, Reo snickered at a thought that appeared on his mind as he pressed the video button and started recording the running Chigiri.

"Suspect can't outrun us for too long in this video, or else he'll be in crutches the next day." Like bowling pins, most of the boys fell to the ground laughing at the words. Reo, was busy snickering and making sure that Chigiri's reaction was caught on camera.

"You absolute crud! COME HERE, YOU ASSHOLE!" Chigiri said, fuming, chasing after the chameleon-like striker who just ran away and continued laughing at his offended face.

"Suspect got brotherzoned by Y/n-chan because he started to say slurs on the field!"

"BITCH?! COME HERE CHIGIRI!" Isagi said, feeling offended and a bit heartbroken when he remembered that certain time.

"Suspect thinks his bad taste in fashion brings the girls closer, but actually just shoos them away from him."

"WHAT?! Excuse me, my fashion is good." Otoya tried to defend himself from Karasu's words. But the rest of the boys just shook their heads.

"Your beanies are hideous."

"Nah, its just because they're on him."

"HELLO?! WHY IS EVERYONE SO RUDE TO ME?!"

"Suspect is a closet gay for Hiori." Rin said, filming Karasu who stopped in his steps with wide eyes at what he said.

"What the hell? I'm not gay." But the rest of the boys just laughed at the straight tone Rin said what he said and the expression Karasu currently had.

"Shut the hell up, you crow. You ain't ever gonna beat the allegations!"

"You aren't any better, Shitdough! You are so gonna get it from me!"

"Hey, you're the one who keeps commenting about how erotic Hiori is." Kunigami rolled his eyes.

"I second that. I still can't forget how you called my left leg erotic." Hiori pitched.

"THAT WAS A COMPLIMENT?!"

"How gay can a compliment be, chat?" Otoya joked while slapping Karasu's back, who only yelped.

"Suspect would either get hepatitis from his dreams of Itoshi Sae or his 3 weeks unwashed pillow case!" This time, it was Oliver who filmed Shidou.

"And I don't have anything to hide about that."

"Jesus Christ, you both are disgusting." Rin commented in disgust at both Oliver for what he said, and to Shidou's whole humanity, or what was left in that guy's said humanity.

"Ya'll are getting more unhinged as this challenge pass by." Yukimiya added as he shook his head, not even knowing what you, Ego or Anri would say when they start to view the footage.

"Suspect can't run too fast or else he'll trip because he can't see what's in front of him."

"HAHAHAHA Bachira did not pull any punches." The rest laughed, meanwhile Yukimiya's glasses fogged, his smile clearly fake as he was legit pissed at what the striker said.

"We're here to offend not to ammend, baby."

"Suspect watches anime more for the agenda than the plot."

"So what?" Niko sassed towards Kiyora, who just shrugged while the rest just snickered.

"Nah bro, don't tell me you're one of those in the agenda piece community." Kurona said, only for Niko to shrug.

"Maybe or maybe not. You never know."

"Suspect is a closet mean girl."

"Pfft Isagi!"

"Nagi being a closet mean girl is so true, though."

"All the victims of Nagi Seishiro arise!" Otoya said as Isagi, Barou and even Reo raised their hands while laughing. Nagi, on the other hand just plopped on the ground, not wanting to even continue moving.

Needless to say, the video was a whopping success in social media. Everyone had a good laugh at found out the chill and funny side of the Blue Lock players. But, the JFU was less than pleased of what was in the video.

They expected the boys to behave and say respectable things about each other, not ruin their damn reputation just for jokes and laughs. But, nerdless to say, nobody cared much about their anger because the video did blow up in popularity, and numbers never lie, especially when it brings over money and revenue.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV TIKTOK COMMENT SECTION:

User1: TO SAY I SNORTED WHAT I WAS DRINKING WHILE WATCHING THIS?!

User2: I swear I always forget these guys are the same age as me, meaning we share the same humour☠️

User3: THE KARASU ONE?! THE GAYNESS IS REAL

-> User4: Idk who to ship anymore Y/n-chan w him or Hiori

User5: I did not expect Rin to actually be funny, good to know he doesn't have his brother's dry sense of humor.

User6: I LOVE THIS! Like I didnt know Nagi and Niko were filled with sass nor did I know Rin can be funny. I NEED MORE OF THESE

User7: Okay, but the brotherzone thing w Isagi proves to me that maybe the crazy harem shippers are right LMAO

-> User8: RIGHT?! Now I'm wondering like theres no way you would use the word brotherzoned if there is no feelings there.

I know this strayed away from the request but I really wanted to incorporate the Bllk boys' friendship so I hope yall enjoy this. I may make a pt 2 that fits more of the request huhu

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[madridfangirl]

Intimacy Quiz gone Awry

(Jude Bellingham blurb. Mature language.

Can be read with or without Couple Intimacy Quiz)

Next evening, they had an early dinner and decided to laze around in one of their favourite spots. Ananya had set up a tiny floor bed in Jude’s house, by the living room French windows, looking into the backyard. Jude previously had some cushions there but Ananya had turned it into a proper floor setting, with a carpet, mattress and a couple of cozy throws. They snuggled there, sharing a throw, watching the rainy Madrid evening. It was chilly and the throw was light, but his body heat kept her warm. 

Rains often filled him with a tinge of nostalgia, reminding him of Birmingham. While the scent of wet earth took her back to the countless times she had played in the rain as a kid, with her friends back home in India. 

So much was left behind when they moved here. But so much was gained as well. Subconsciously, they scooted closer, her head tucked into his neck.

‘Feels like I’ve eaten for two today.’

Ananya touched her belly, appalled at the bulge that was forming there.

‘You kinda did.’

He copied her actions and played with the folds of her skin, making an ‘oooh’ sound & giggling a little. That appalled her even more & she slapped his hand away.

‘Never say that to a girl. Definitely not to your girlfriend.’

‘So I should lie? What happened to open & honest communication?’

He continued to tease & she gave him an incredulous look. She knew he knew how her body was a touchy topic for her. She was petite but wasn’t full of toned muscles like he was. Or like the girls he had been with were. Ananya was comfortable in her own skin. Before meeting Jude, this aspect had never bothered her. But him being an elite athlete and such a gym freak didn’t help. His perfectly chiseled body (which was only getting more buff with each passing day) didn’t help either. 

Mostly, he kept her touchiness in mind. But sometimes, him being a 20 year old boy showed in his terrible judgement. Like now.

‘Open & honest communication, huh? So you’re saying I should call you out every time you are being a cocky ass too?’

‘You love it when I’m cocky.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘Yeah? Was it your ghost that texted me last game how turned on you were to see me squaring up to those pricks?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Not a good loser, yeah? Can’t concede?’

‘Pot kettle. Kettle pot.’

Jude chuckled loudly, the sound immediately calming her despite her prior irritation. He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, his beard scratching her in familiar fashion, his lips curving into a smile against her skin. She whined & made a half-hearted protest but simultaneously allowed him to pull her closer.

‘Oi, I was kidding. Love a little voluptuousness, more for me to dig into.’

She didn’t allow him an easy out, trying to keep a stern face while he continued his ministrations. 

‘And it’s not like you don’t call me out. Just last week you said I was an absolute clown for picking up that yellow and costing the team. YOUR team. Even Carlo didn’t say that to me y’know?’

She smiled. Because she did say that to him. Usually, she didn’t mince words when it came to football. Ananya loved him, but she loved her team as well. And she got cranky when anyone costed the team, even her boyfriend. Jude had thought it was his mum who always gave it to him straight, but he had learnt that his girlfriend could be as brutal. More so when it was about Madrid.

‘Truce?’

‘Fine.’

‘Can we continue that quiz then?’

She turned to face him, amused.

‘Now?’

He shrugged.

‘It was fun. Wanna see what else is there.’

Secretly, she was curious too. So she pulled out her phone & started looking where they had left it off. And instantly regretted it when she saw the next question, sighing loudly. 

‘How do you rate the quality of the sex?’

Jude immediately preened like a peacock, wanting to be complimented for his undisputed perfection. Now, if he hadn’t done that, she would have given him the praise he deserved. But she took another route now.

‘Well, I don’t have enough benchmarks. So this question is not applicable.’

His face fell; the animated smirk quickly turning into a frown. She almost laughed at the histrionics, but restrained herself well.

‘SERIOUSLY? That’s the line you’re taking?’

‘But it’s logical. Tell me if it’s not.’

She looked up at him innocently, batting her lashes. 

‘Boy you can be mean.’

Ananya knew what she was doing by not giving him this win. In their relationship, she was supposed to be the smart, mature one while he was the vibrant, spontaneous one who really drove their passionate activities (which he was extremely proud of). By taking this away, she was fundamentally questioning the balance of power.

But the way disappointment & betrayal took over his pretty features immediately dented her resolve. He really took it to heart, so she gave him what he wanted.

‘Baby, do I really need to say anything? You know how wonderful you make me feel.’

‘I wanna hear it.’

Ananya rolled her eyes loudly.

‘Fine. You’re the reincarnation of Cupid himself. Mightiest warriors in history are no match to your anatomy, stamina & vigour. Ballads should be written over your prowess. Harems would be set up in your honour. You rock my world in ways I didn’t know was possible. Happy?’

‘Minus the sarcasm it would have been nicer. But I know you mean at least half of it so it’s fine.’

‘More like 10%.’

‘Keep lying to yourself. Next question.’

‘What about me?’

‘What about you?’

Gosh, that boy was infuriating. Never missed a chance of making her spell these things out loud.

‘Same question. For me. About…me…in bed.’

He turned towards her, leaning closer, his breath fanning her face. Completely enjoying her discomfort & nervousness.

‘Should I be mean like you?’

‘No. Be nice. Please?’

She looked at him sincerely. There was no way he would deny that face.

‘You get me going, girl. So hard. Sometimes I don’t even need porn when I’m away, just your thoughts are enough.’

Her fingers played with the fabric of his jumper, as she processed his words.

‘Won’t any hot, naked girl you like get you going that way? Sex is sex after all, for men.’

This had always been on her mind, but it was the first time she was saying it out loud.

‘Sex is sex, yes. Mostly that’s enough for guys, yes. But how much a guy wants it & keeps wanting it with the same girl tells you what he feels about her. What she does to him. Men are different with girls they really like.’

He said plainly, and she kept playing with his jumper while he did so. 

‘Ok.’

She couldn’t deny how much he had chased her, and how he still couldn’t get enough of her. One of these days her heart might really believe it fully.

Ananya went back to her phone again, perking up at the next question.

‘Hmmm. Body count?’

She sat up & looked at him, tapping her lips, while he was still leaning back on the cushions against the wall, staring into space, clearly not prepared for this question. It was her turn to make him uncomfortable.

‘Well?’

She crossed her arms & he shifted slightly. They both knew her number - she had only been with her college boyfriend before Jude. This question was all about him. 

‘You know what they say - don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.’

Ananya chuckled at his attempt to be philosophical. The stuff desperation made people do…

‘Maybe I do want an answer.’

‘Do you? Why?’

He tried to throw it back to her but she was up to the challenge.

‘For the same reason we are doing this quiz. To get to know each other better.’

This wasn’t something he had a smart comeback to, and the faraway look was back.

‘Jude, pls tell me you know & remember the number.’

When he didn’t respond for a few seconds, she gaped at him, aghast.

‘Are you fucking kidding…’

‘I know. Of course I do. I mean…ballpark.’

‘BALLPARK?’

Jude was kicking himself hard for ever proposing this quiz and not anticipating this question. How fucking dumb. She was right. He could be so stupid at times.

‘Sometimes there were…multiple..’

‘STOP. Just stop right there.’

He gave her a few seconds to breathe.

‘See? That’s what I meant. I haven’t even gotten to the details yet and you’re already flipping out. Why go there then?’

She gave him an angry, dirty look. His hesitation was making it worse in her head. How bad could it be? How crazy was this number? What all had he done?

‘Because I have a right to know what all you’ve been up to.’

‘Absolutely. But you & I both know we won’t see eye to eye about my past. It’s a clash of beliefs. You won’t ever morally approve of some of these things yet as a single guy it’s perfectly normal in my world. Then you’ll go all passive aggressive on me. And it’ll take us days to recover. What’s the point of it, dove?’

Logically, he was bang on. Speaking absolute truth with perfect clarity. But the fact that he was fighting so hard to not go there was making her extra curious. 

‘Tell me one instance, one example.’

‘I started saying but you shot me down.’

‘Multiple…girls. That one?’

‘Yes.’

‘More than once?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you miss it?’

‘If you’re asking I’d rather have that than having you, the answer is a hard no.’

‘That wasn’t my question.’

‘It wasn’t a fair question.’

A few months ago, he would have walked right into that one. Not anymore. 

‘You say such complicated dialogues are not your forte but you seem to be playing it quite well right now.’

He smiled a proper Jude smile. Eyes crinkling, cheeks lifting, laugh lines all over that flawless face. 

‘Learning from you. TRYING not to dig a deeper hole.’

A staring contest ensued, which he broke by slowly leaning in for a soft kiss. She didn’t resist much, eventually letting him explore her mouth, sighing at the way his hand stroked her butt & thigh, grabbing & kneading in between. Her hands automatically went to his shoulders. The soft make-out continued for 2 minutes.

‘Just remember who I am with you. Coz that guy is quite amazing.’

Classic Jude confidence. Cockiness rather. But, despite herself, she smiled again. This was his superpower. He couldn’t help getting himself into these tricky situations but he also knew how to win her back right away with his charming irresistible ways.

Moments after, he took the phone from her to take charge of the rest of the quiz, to avoid any such mishaps. She saw right through it but let him continue feeling it was some slick move. 

‘Ok, this is interesting. Your favourite instance of your partner pleasuring you?’

His eyes locked with hers but she lowered them, playing with his jumper again.

‘Mine’s an easy answer. Valentine’s Day. First time’s a charm.’

It was the first time she had used her hands on him, and made him release over her chest & belly.  The most erotic sight in the world. The whole scene & feeling still fresh in his mind.

For her, the answer wasn’t easy. How he made her feel with his hands & mouth was almost as divine as when he was deeply seated inside her. He loved making her squirm & shake, readying her for himself this way, then entering her when she was dripping & over-sensitive. Way too many instances to pick from.

But one particular one still sprung to her mind, from a few weeks ago.

She had a big presentation that morning, which she had stressed over all week prior to that Monday. Had a restless sleep, woke up an hour before her alarm, went over the material again, then decided to reach the office half hour earlier to do a mock run in the conference room.

Jude was fast asleep but woke up from all the commotion in the room, trying to go back to sleep with a pillow over his head. She was getting ready in the adjoining washroom. When she stepped out, in her undergarments, hair & make-up done, looking for the dress she had ironed & readied the night before, his eyes followed her. Sleep was long forgotten.

The purple undies matched to the dress. The pair seemed new, Jude hadn’t seen it before. It wasn’t racy or anything, was a proper formal wear meant for work but still looked so fucking good on her, especially with the hair & make-up. Unaware of his gaze, she was fidgeting around with the dress, trying to decide if it needed more ironing. 

Jude decided to intervene.

He slowly walked over to her, keeping his hands on her waist, pulling her away from where the dress was hung and towards her desk, lifting her a little to make her sit on the table, while Jude separated her legs & stood in between.

Alarmed, she immediately used the safe word, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. There was no time for this, she had a thousand things to do. And she couldn't afford to get sore or messy or sweaty after spending so long to get ready.

‘Trust me. Just 5 mins, promise. Only for you. You’re too tense, just let me help.’

Before she could say anything, he pulled up her bra and latched on to a nipple, his hand tending to the other one. She threw her head back at the sensation, immediately feeling light-headed. His other hand slid down her belly, stroking her over her clothed sex, leaving her mewling. His thumb found her sensitive bundle of nerves, applying just the right pressure for her to turn incoherent. Given paucity of time, he moved both hands between her legs, rubbing & pressing & stroking & dipping inside her folds, while his mouth continued to work wonders on her tits. She moaned helplessly, while his expertly calculated moves took her closer & closer to her high. Jude wrung the pleasure out of her well within the promised time, while leaving her make-up & hair untouched.  Extracting a promise that she’d come to him later that evening after the presentation, no matter how late it was, and he’d get to take this dress off of her.

Yeah, it had to be that one. She slowly said it out loud & Jude concurred. Then went back to picking the next question carefully.

‘One fetish of your partner that you wish he/she does more of. Niiiice. You first.’

She was already a bit flushed from the memories of the last question, and this one didn’t help either.

‘Umm…eating things off of me I guess.’

Jude loved doing that. Putting stuff like chocolate syrup over her tits, bellybutton, and between her legs and just sucking it off. Making a complete mess of her & the sheets. 

‘Oh, dovey really likes that, yeah? Gotcha.’

She sunk further into his side, not wanting to face him right now.

‘Now, about you, more of you on top in my lap. You’re gorgeous like that.’

Her slowly grinding on top, straddling his legs, while he could bury his face in her neck & chest was one of his favourite positions. He allowed her to set the pace in the beginning, going slow, building both their pleasures, but later on he usually took over, grabbing her butt & bouncing her on top of him.

‘Ok last one. And probably my favourite one of the lot. Secret fantasy?’

‘You go first this time.’

‘Too many, but I’ll pick one. Doing it on a beach in broad daylight.’

‘You’re nuts.’

‘It’s doable. Trust me.’

That ‘trust me’ made her turn & look at him.

‘Wait have you done it before? With…someone else?’

‘Sadly no. But I’ve thought about the logistics, am firming up a plan.’

‘A plan?’

‘Yeah I’ll tell you when it’s ready.’

‘I repeat. You’re nuts.’

‘All geniuses were called nuts at some point.’

‘Sure.’

‘Enough evading. Your turn now.’

‘I…don’t have one.’

‘Liar. Out with it.’

‘But I…’

Jude held the back of her neck, pulling her close, foreheads & noses touching.

‘C’monn doll, we can try whatever you want. Tell me.’

‘It’s not so much a fantasy but a thought that…stuck with me after…watching some stuff..’

‘Porn?’

She nodded slowly. He was super intrigued.

‘Babe you’re killing me. Say it now.’

‘Like I’ve just wondered what It’d be like…’

‘ANANYA.’

She took a deep breath to collect herself, then fisted her hands in his jumper, and blurted it out.

‘I’ve thought about having my breasts sucked at the same time…in a threesome.’

Pindrop silence. Jude went eerily quiet. Just the sound of his heavy breathing filled her ears. Slowly, his hands dropped from around her, and he pulled away a bit.

She looked up nervously, unsure of what to do or what to make of it. His moods was something she was still getting used to. 

It wasn’t easy for her to say that but she did it coz he was asking her to. He always asked her to be more vocal & she was just following his lead. What the fuck just happened then?

Jude stood up abruptly, and went to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water. She was numb. Frozen. Didn’t move for a few seconds. But then, she followed him into the kitchen and hugged him from behind while he stood in front of the fridge.

He was still. Didn’t acknowledge the hug, or her presence.

‘Jude, what happened?’

She whispered in a small voice.

‘My girlfriend just told me she wants to let another man touch her. And make me see it. That’s what happened.’

That hit her like a bucket of cold water. 

‘I..What??? That’s not what I meant.’

He whirled around, and her arms dropped from around him.

‘How else does a threesome work, Ananya?’

‘I told you it was just a thought…..just something I had seen…..It’s not so deep.’

‘Yeah? I saw how you said it. What it did to you. It’s not just a thought.’

She made the mistake of looking at his face and the storm in his eyes made her flinch. She knew this was him trying to restrain himself for her sake. Inside, he was 10x mad.

But it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t. She just said something which she thought was normal to share with her partner, at his constant insistence.

Then why are you feeling so guilty? Like you want the earth to swallow you whole?

Jude was watching her like a hawk and interpreted her silence in a thousand different ways. Wrong ways. 

‘I knew it.’

He spoke through gritted teeth, the chilling sound bringing her out of her thoughts. Back to the agitated man in front of her. She hated how she took two steps back when he came two steps ahead, backed against the counter now. His hands gripped the marble of the counter harshly, on both sides of her, caging her in.

‘Tell me, do you have a guy in mind as well? You do, don’t you?’

‘Jude no. No. Please it’s not like that.’

‘WHAT IS IT LIKE THEN?’

He grabbed her butt and put her on the counter, spreading her legs to stand impossibly close to her. The volcano burning inside him all too evident in all his glorious features. 

She desperately reached for his face, stroking his cheeks with the pads of her fingers and his cheekbone with her thumb, making shushing sounds, while he panted in front of her, mouth half-open, nostrils flaring.

‘Baby, pls let’s just forget about it yeah?’

He eyed her incredulously.

‘Forget about it? All I can picture right now is another man fucking you RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. And you fucking him back. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FORGET ABOUT IT?’

She flinched at the truthful crudeness of his words. 

‘But…you said you….have done…have been with multiple women…together…I just thought..’

‘That was before you. Before I was in love. Chalk & cheese, Ananya.’

Just then, she realised her mistake. Having this thought was fine (she firmly believed that), but like he didn’t say stuff about his past, knowing it would trigger her, she shouldn’t have said this to him either. Shouldn’t have put this image in his head, despite knowing fully well the extent of his possessiveness. Jude wasn’t strictly rational when it came to her, something she should have factored. 

She rubbed the taut muscles of his neck & shoulders, trying to relieve the tension there. And spoke in an assuaging voice.

‘You’re right. Shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. But baby - I don’t want anyone else. It’s not like that. Pls look at me.’

She cupped his cheek and titled his face towards her, looking straight into the fire dancing in his eyes. She nudged his hands away from the counter, and put them on her waist, where they instantly dug into her skin.

Some soft & soothing caresses later, his tension eased and she could see the vulnerability behind the rage.

‘Am I not enough? Do I not satisfy you?’

He spoke in a low, very ‘unlike her Jude’ voice. Her heart broke for him instantly.

‘Oh my love. My baby. You’re everything for me. Pls, I’m so lucky that you love me so passionately. Pls baby, pls you must know that. You already know that. You’re all I want.’

She looked up desperately at his torn face, and could see her words hadn’t fully seeped in. He was trying to believe her but something was holding him back.

Ananya wrapped her arms & legs around him, pulling him in for a kiss. Which he reciprocated, turning it into a punishing kiss, tugging & nipping her bottom lip, both panting afterwards.

‘Take me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Jude, I NEED YOU.’

‘Ananya, I don’t trust myself around you right now. Don’t know if I’d be able to stop.’

‘Well I trust you.’

With that, she took off her sweater and threw it behind her, leaving her in a black lace bra. His absolute & utter weakness.

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Didn’t say I was gonna play fair.’

‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘Don’t patronise me. Just fucking take me.’

When he still didn’t move, Ananya moved her hands to her covered boobs, kneading them slowly, gasping at the touch.

That did his head in. He was mad furious yet frustratingly aroused. The need to put her in her place took over all his senses. 

Jude grabbed her legs and threw her over his shoulder, taking her to the couch. Then taking her mercilessly. Marking her, inside & outside. He extracted deep apologies from her for putting those images in his mind and a promise to never push his buttons like that again. Till she could speak coherent words. Any words rather. Post that it was just deep moans and chants of his name,  from where she was face down into a cushion, something he could never get enough of.

.........................................................................

Wanted to write a quick 1k one and ended up doing a 4k one. God help me.

[chrissssssmut]

CLASSROOM 3-B

Vampire Ahn Yujin x Male Reader

It started with Lee Jiwon.

One day, she was there, laughing with her friends, tying her hair into a neat ponytail. The next day, she was gone. No message. No explanation. Just an empty seat by the window that no one dared to look at for too long.

The teachers told us not to worry. “She must have transferred schools,” they said. “Maybe a family emergency.” But no one had seen her leave. No one had heard from her since.

Then Kim Haneul disappeared.

By the third missing student, panic set in. Police officers swarmed our classroom, questioning us one by one. Had we noticed anything strange? Had they mentioned anything before they left?

I had no answers. None of us did.

And then it kept happening.

Every week, a girl from our class vanished.

The empty desks grew, the halls of our school became quieter. The teachers stopped calling roll. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the truth—our class was shrinking, and no one knew why.

At first, I convinced myself it was just a coincidence. Maybe they all had reasons to leave, reasons we just didn’t understand. But then I started noticing things. Small, unsettling things.

The missing girls all had one thing in common: before they vanished, they had all spent time with Ahn Yujin.

I didn’t want to believe it. Yujin was… different, yes. She had a presence that was both alluring and unnerving, like a beautiful statue that felt just a little too real. She was quiet but never shy, confident but never loud. She had this way of looking at you, as if she knew something you didn’t.

I had always liked her. Maybe that was why I ignored the signs at first.

But then I started piecing things together.

There was the way the missing girls were always last seen with her. The way she never seemed concerned, even when the rest of us were terrified. And then there was the strangest part—Yujin never ate at school.

Ever.

Lunch breaks, class parties, snack time—she always smiled and said she wasn’t hungry.

That alone wasn’t damning, but then I overheard a conversation between two teachers.

“She’s never sick, have you noticed?”

“She has perfect attendance, too.”

“And she doesn’t go on school trips. Not once in three years.”

I had never thought about it before. But once I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That’s when I decided to investigate.

I started retracing the missing girls’ last known whereabouts. Checking places they used to go. Looking through old messages, old photos. And a pattern emerged.

They had all gone somewhere before they disappeared.

Somewhere after school.

Yujin’s house.

That’s how I found myself standing in front of her home late one evening, my hands clenched into fists, my heart pounding so loudly I thought she might hear it from inside.

Her house was nothing like I expected. No eerie mansion, no gothic towers—just a regular two-story house at the end of a quiet street. But something about it felt wrong.

The windows were too dark. The air too still.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The front door was unlocked.

That should have been my first warning.

The second was the silence. No hum of a fridge, no distant sound of a television. Just stillness, pressing against my skin like a heavy fog.

And then, the third warning—

I found their things.

A dimly lit room at the end of the hall. Lockers stacked against the walls, each containing something chillingly familiar.

Jiwon’s school bag.

Haneul’s sweater.

and many other more things that definitely did not belong to Yujin.

A metallic smell clung to the air. A faint, sickly-sweet scent.

I turned to leave.

SLAM.

The door shut behind me.

The lock clicked.

And then I felt it—a presence. Cold. Watching.

I turned around slowly, my pulse thudding in my ears.

Ahn Yujin stood in the shadows, red eyes glowing like embers.

“You weren’t supposed to see this,” she murmured.

Her voice was calm, almost gentle. But there was something underneath it. Something dark.

“Yujin,” I breathed, my throat dry. “What did you do to them?”

She stepped closer.

“Why are you here?” she asked instead, tilting her head.

My feet refused to move. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, but I knew—I knew—I wouldn’t get far.

“I had to know the truth,” I said.

Yujin sighed, almost disappointed. “I liked you,” she admitted. “You were different. Curious. Kind.”

She was right in front of me now. Close enough for me to see the way her pupils dilated, the way her fangs glinted in the dim light.

“You should’ve just stayed ignorant.”

And then she was on me.

I barely had time to struggle before I felt it—her fangs sinking into my neck, piercing my skin.

A sharp pain, like fire, followed by something strange, something intoxicating. My head spun. My body shivered. It was like drowning in warmth, like falling into something I wasn’t meant to feel.

She pulled away suddenly, breath shaky. Her eyes were wide, her expression dazed.

“…You taste different.”

Her grip on me tightened.

I gasped, my vision swimming. “W-What…?”

Her lips parted slightly, as if she were trying to understand something herself.

Then she whispered, “I can’t let you go.”

Something in her voice sent a shiver down my spine.

My body felt weak, but I moved. My elbow jabbed into her ribs, enough to make her stumble back.

I bolted.

I barely made it three steps before I was yanked back.

Her strength was unreal. Inhuman. She threw me against the lockers like I was nothing. Metal bent under my weight, pain shooting up my spine.

I tried to crawl away, reaching for the door, but she was already there, watching me struggle.

Her expression was unreadable.

I lunged again, a last-ditch attempt at the window—

She caught my wrist.

Effortlessly.

My heart sank.

Yujin pulled me in, crushing me against her body. I could feel her breath against my neck, her voice a whisper, almost… sad.

“Don’t fight me,” she murmured. “You’ll only make it worse.”

I thrashed, punching, kicking, anything—

But her grip never loosened.

It was over.

Her lips brushed against my skin again, fangs teasing before she bit down—this time, slower. Deeper.

And suddenly, I felt my body give in.

My limbs grew heavy. My fight… disappeared.

My eyes fluttered shut as a strange, blissful numbness took over.

And then I heard her voice, soft and possessive.

“You’re mine now.”

And I knew I had lost.

[aventurineswife]

HII AUTHOR! ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD DAY? I HAVE A QUESTION. How would the SAHSRAU react if you suddenly got bored with HSR and switched to genshin?

Oh boy... The jealousy and the angst are sure burning up...

At first, they don’t notice.

Everything is normal. The Museum of Divinity still stands. Your artworks are still there. Your music still echoes through the stars.

But then… something changes.

The paintings stop appearing. The music stops playing. The museum doors remain shut.

The characters wait for your next command. It never comes.

The Galaxy is silent.

And that’s when they realize.

“There must be an explanation.”

Welt starts running calculations, probability theories, even dimensional travel theories—anything to explain your sudden disappearance.

Himeko sips her coffee, trying to stay calm, but her hands are shaking. “They’ll be back. They always come back.”

(You in fact did not come back.)

March 7th: "Uh, guys? You might wanna look at this..."

She holds up a blurry, pixelated screenshot she managed to capture—a screenshot of Teyvat.

Himeko’s mug shatters. (Like her heart ahem)

Blade stops moving entirely. His entire reason for existing has just left him behind.

Stares blankly at the sky, gripping his sword. If you are no longer here, then what purpose does he have?

Dan Heng acts calm, but he's already in crisis mode. He's scrolling through files, trying to find any clue as to why you left.

When he sees the Teyvat screenshot, his grip tightens on his spear.

Dan Heng: “…We’ve been abandoned.” (yeah no shit, Sherlock-)

Aventurine immediately plays it cool. "Well, well, well. Looks like our dear Creator has found another plaything."

Sunday is not calm.

"BETRAYAL! TREACHERY! ABANDONMENT! I HAVE BEEN CAST ASIDE!"

He dramatically collapses on the museum floor. Aventurine just watches with amusement.

But the second he sees the Teyvat screenshot—

Aventurine: “…Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

They both hate the idea of you playing another game more than they hate each other.

Kafka smirks, but there’s a sharp edge to it. "So, you’ve moved on, huh?"

Black Swan looks at the fading murals of your art, her expression unreadable. “All things fade… but I never expected our Creator’s gaze to turn elsewhere.”

Deep down, they wonder—were they not enough?

Luocha: "I suppose even gods grow tired of their creations."

Jing Yuan: "Hah��� It seems we have been cast aside for another world."

They act philosophical about it, but they’re both lowkey miserable.

Jing Yuan tries to joke about it, but even Yanqing notices something’s off.

Luocha stares at a fading portrait of you, quietly wondering if he will ever see your light again. (Probably not but ahem)

March 7th is the first to start coping.

"It’s fine, it’s fine! Maybe they’re just… on a vacation! Yeah! They’ll be back! Right?"

Sparkle is already scheming. "If our dear Painter has found another world… then perhaps it’s time we follow them there."

(They are actively looking for ways to break into Teyvat.)

Sighs, so the list goes on...

Blade stops fighting entirely. (What's the point if you're not watching?)

Dan Heng avoids everyone. (He refuses to believe it.)

Kafka and Black Swan start theorizing. (Will you return, or is this the end?)

Sunday begins plotting. (If they cannot bring you back, they will find a way to make you remember them.)

March 7th, Sparkle, and Aventurine?

They're looking for a way to invade Genshin. (Yeah, with Silver Wolf's help)

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months.

They wait.

And wait.

And then—

One day—

A new painting appears.

It's… different.

A familiar signature, but a different style.

A mural of Teyvat.

And on that day, the last hope shatters.

You are gone.

Their Creator has truly moved on.

But that doesn’t mean they’ll stop searching for you. Not ever.

My back hurts... I'm taking away your guys' SAHSRAU privilege. I need someone to write this as a fic or expand it and I'm not gonna write it, that's for you. 🫶

[aheathen-conceivably]

Hello, my darlings! 🌻

Since it’s been a while since we've last seen our Darlingtons, I thought it would be nice to do a little recap and see where we left our pixel babes. We also have some new folks who joined us during What the Water Gave Me, so if any of you are interested in my historical story, I thought this might be helpful for yall too! I also have a new reader guide, if you're inclined. And as a reminder, I have also added Previous / Next buttons to the 1930s, so if you’d like to catch up on this decade you can begin here.

But before we jump back into the story in earnest, let's take a look at how 1935 has been going....

We opened with Antoine and Josephine on the road, where Antoine's first tour was such a success that his sister and manager Josephine negotiated a deal for two more. Just like she had previously done, she signed the deal with her former employer Hosa Grove without consulting Antoine, although he didn't hesitate nearly as much as he did the first time (or consult his own wife, Zelda).

When Antoine returns home, Zelda almost immediately senses that something has shifted in him. He returns with a stack of songs he's written, which she's too anxious to admit make her feel as though he's moving on to a new stage of his life, one in which she is notably not included in. His assurances carefully avoid answering her actual question, which both of them notice but neither really know how to address as they each try to defer to the other in some way.

Zelda' question to Antoine continues to echo in his mind after she's asked it. Are you happy when you’re out there? What unveils is something that he doesn't really know how to discuss with her, or anyone other than his own guitar: namely that he's filled with pride at his success, and feels as though he's playing not only for himself now, but also generations of Black men who were never given the opportunity he feels as though he has now. Its driving him back on the road, even if he personally may not find happiness in that life for himself.

The only person who Antoine shares this with in some capacity is his former employer, Abraham Hines. Going back on the road also means formally quitting his job on Abe's ranch, which fills Antoine with both sadness and guilt after Abe offered him the job in good faith. But what began as a professional relationship has turned into warm friendship, especially as their children William and Violette are also now close.

As Josephine and Antoine prepare to go back on the road, a sense of normality returns to the household. Antoine and Zelda choose to ignore the misunderstanding between them in favor of enjoying what little time they have together. Meanwhile, the other couple on the farm, Josephine and Giorgio, reach a point of accord after many years of distrust and dissatisfaction. The root of their tension can primarily be traced to Giorgio’s lie that tricked Josephine into moving on the farm in the first place - a life that made her miserable and feel as though she had lost all autonomy in favor of Gio’s dreams.

The scales between them began to tilt when Jo discovered that Gio had taken out a huge loan on their farm, and that he, Antoine, and Zelda had all been lying to her about it. Her initial deal with Hosa paid off a significant portion of the loan, and she now owns 25% of the farm (with Antoine owning another 25% and Gio 50%). This, and the feeling of freedom that she gets on the road, has allowed her to feel stable, and enjoy the quiet domestic life that Gio had tried to corner her into in the first place. Just before she leaves again he gives her a pair of bright red driving gloves, symbolizing his acceptance of the freedom she wants and the accord they've found in their life.

Only before she returns to the road, Jo’s newfound stability is undermined by her relationship with her former employer, Valcita Grove. After learning of Gio’s loan, Jo had taken a job at Val’s bar, and fostered a close relationship between them in part due to their mutual attraction, but also to get back at Gio for lying to her. Now that the she and Gio are in a happier place, Jo returns to Val’s house to borrow her car, only to still be tormented by the same restless thoughts that she had when she was unhappy. Horrified with herself, Jo leaves for their second tour trying to convince herself that whatever she feels for Val (alongside the nagging sensation that she wants something more) can be blown away by the freedom she feels on the road and the love she has for Gio.

Once Antoine and Josephine leave for their second tour, we are left at the farmhouse with Gio and Zelda, who still has the feeling that her husband is moving on without her. She isn't necessarily unhappy, just stuck with the nagging sensation that something is missing from her life, and she’s ended up in a position she didn’t quite sign up for. Meanwhile, she and Giorgio work the failing fields together as they have for years. With their partners gone, they rely on each other in small ways - Gio's good nature curbing Zelda's anxieties, and Zelda's quiet knowledge keeping Gio from fixating on the fact that his dream is on the cusp of failing.

On a hot Summer day a book truck interrupts the menial life that the two of them are living alongside Zelda and Antoine's daughter Violette. As Violette runs around the book truck excitedly, Zelda immediately gets distracted by it, instantly forgetting her anxieties surrounding parenting her child or the melancholia that her life is missing something. Violette finds a copy of her favorite book, The Wizard of Oz, while Zelda talks to the driver, Alexander Barnes, who gives her his card and invites her to come to his office at the town courthouse.

Rather than take him up on this offer, Zelda agonizes over her desire to do so. When she goes to pick up Violette from school, she muses on how young and full of potential the children are - mirroring her own feeling that her life path is set and any sort of potential change she may long for is childish and imagined. After enthusiastically agreeing with Violette's teacher that her daughter begin ballet lessons, she turns around to look at the courthouse, imagining that she simply crosses the street to ask Alexander Barnes more about the book truck. But just before her daughter emerges, Zelda decides that it was nothing but a foolish daydream.

Meanwhile, Antoine and Josephine's days on the road stretch out, effecting Violette, who is now almost eleven years old. Always closer to her father and aunt, their absence has made her distrustful, angry, and heightened her sense of abandonment. We see her coping through ballet, as she focuses all her energy into perfecting her steps rather than counting down the days until her father returns.

—

And so we last saw our Darlingtons…

- Antoine following the pull of music, approaching a crossroads where he may have to chose it or his family, but unsure if it even makes him happy at all.

- Zelda feeling restless and left behind, within sight of something she wants for her life but too anxious to follow it in earnest.

- Giorgio willing to give up control and share in Jo’s vision of their future, but perhaps at the end of the line of how much he’s willing to give up quietly.

- Josephine finally finding some sense of peace and happiness, only to still unwittingly feeling a restless pull from deep inside of her that she rather ignore than battle.

- And our heiress, Violette, on the cusp of her preteen years developing her independence and emotional maturity in a warped way. She’s channeling her loneliness into perfecting an art that she was already talented at, and developing an understanding that dreams may always lie just outside of Strangerville city limits.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Your dark Quinn is DELICIOUS! May we have more!?

I can't get the gif of Quinn out of my mind from the awards last season. The one where hesfixining his tie? Can we get some outfit picking? Quinn approving and disapproving of the reader's dresses for the upcoming awards show?

Please,make my dreams come true? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Nonnie...I went down a very slutty rabbithole with this one. If you (or anyone else) don't want 1,500 words of smut right out the gate. Ignore this one. If you'd like a redo, let me know, please!

It goes without saying: dark sexual themes throughout, just....dark everything. There's too much to list. 18+ Rated A for Adult, lol. Y'all know the drill!

"Darling, I need you to show me what you're planning on wearing next weekend," Quinn spoke, giving you a sideways glance as you passed by him in the living room. You stopped when he spoke to you, giving him your full and undivided attention anytime he spoke to you. He'd beckon you to come closer to the sofa where he sat, instructing you to sit and straddle his hips before he'd continue. His hands found the curve of your hips like a magnet, fingers clawing at them gently, while your hands rested on the top of his shoulders.

"Do you have an idea of what you want to show me?" He pressed, bouncing you with his leg a couple times so you slid closer to his chest.

"I have several I think you'd like," you smiled, keeping your hands where they were, but wanting to play with his hair. Your eyes remained on his, knowing he didn't like when they wandered.

Quinn breathed deep the smell of your shampoo as he leaned up into you to place a kiss to your exposed collarbone. His hands trailed from your shorts, up under the hem of your tank-top, to tease your taut nipples with the soft pads of his thumbs. Your sharps gasps brought a smirk to his lips while he continued to dot your skin with his affections, careful not to leave a mark anywhere it might be seen by a prying camera.

"Someone's a little needy this morning," he teased, working fast circles on your left bud while your hips grinded against him. You could feel your heartbeat pounding between your legs, just wanting to beg him to touch you but you knew he wouldn't. It was a treat that he was even letting you tease yourself through the friction of your cloth shorts. You could already feel the fabric grow cool from your arousal.

"What are you doing, princess?" He hummed, feeling you try to push deeper into his hips; struggling to press your clit on something that would give you the stimulation you craved.

Your answer to his question was simply a moan, as his tongue took over for his finger. His hot breath and spit against your sensitive button sent a fresh wave of tingles coursing through your body, Your pussy ached for the feeling of a touch that wasn't your own, of something you couldn't anticipate the sensation of.

"Answer me, sweetheart, or you'll be grounded."

/Grounded./ Quinn's definition of the word meant no orgasms, either by your own doing or his, no matter how much you begged, promised, or cried. He'd get you just to the point of release, time-after-time, just to leave you in tears while he walked away, making you think he was going to lift your punishment when in reality it only made it worse. You had only been "grounded" once, and it had been the worst week you could remember. You had never felt more desperate, more needy, or touch starved than the week he kept you waiting. But god, when he finally let you come, you felt weightless for an hour afterwards.

"I want you to touch me, please," you replied, breathlessly following his one and only warning, stopping your movements while he spoke.

Quinn's tone deepened, "Do you want me to touch you, or do you want to get off?"

"Both," you answered immediately, your chest heaving.

He just grinned at your answer, that devious smirk that drove you equally as crazy as it frightened you.

"Get up, princess," he ordered, withdrawing his hands from your body, leaving you stunned and fearful you had answered incorrectly. "Now."

Without needing another push, you pulled yourself off of him and stood beside him, trying so hard to be patient.

"In my lap, sweetheart."

Swallowing hard, you did as you were told, and soon found yourself between his thighs, your hands resting on either side of him.

"You're such a good girl, doing as you're told so quickly," he growled deeply into your ear. "I don't like having to tell you twice. Thank you for not making me do that."

"You're-- welcome," you choked out, finding yourself nervous for whatever was about to happen. You mind was fuzzy with wants and unspoken desires, making it harder to focus on the present.

Quinn's breathy laugher sent goosebumps across your skin as his right hand roamed. "I like to reward good girls."

His fingers slipped under the band of your shorts and painfully slow, inched across your bare skin until he discovered just how wet you were for him. You never disappointed him on that front, and he loved being surprised with just how intense it was. There were few things that topped how his fingers felt when you craved him so badly, they were a second to his tongue, of course. Your back arched against him as he traced the outline of your lips so lightly you had to focus to feel it. He was playing with you, but it didn't matter: you were getting what you had asked for, and if you played your cards right, he'd complete both of your wants at once.

"You get so wet so fast, princess. I hardly even touched you. Tsk, tsk, tsk," his tongue ticked against the back of his teeth. "Such a desperate little thing you are, aren't you?"

"Yes!" You moaned as he slipped his index into you, the sound of your wet sex popping in the quietness of his apartment while he buried his finger into you as deep as the angle would allow him. You were tightening against him, pushing into each thrust with quickening desperation.

Having given you a taste of what you could expect later, Quinn withdrew his finger, slick with your fluids, and took to rapidly stroking your plump clit. Your moans grew deeper, and more consistent with each wave of pleasure that washed over you.

"You sound so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, nuzzling into your neck as you continued to grind against his hand. You tried to grasp at the cushions for something to hold on to, but you just couldn't get your fingers around enough of it to do any good. Instead, your right hand would find the top of his, as he continued to play with you; your fingers sliding down his.

"Maybe I should make you get yourself off?" Quinn teased, feeling your hand press against his.

"Please, no," you begged, eyes closed in complete bliss.

"But you seem so eager to help. Do you want to feel how wet you are?"

Quinn slipped his hand from beneath yours and forced you to touch yourself, his fingers instructing where and how fast. You already knew you were past the point of being a dripping mess, and you couldn't deny how good it felt to have him show you how to pleasure yourself. Your moans continued, short and high-pitched as his pressure grew against your clit with that of your own fingers.

"That's enough," he hushed, making you take your hand away reluctantly. "That's for me to do."

The next time his fingers would separate your aching slit, your legs would involuntarily spread wider, as you pushed back against the pleasure. Every sensation felt so heightened, so intense, while you teetered on the edge of numbness. Quinn was grinning as he nipped at your shoulder, wanting to leave the darkest hickey on your shoulder yet he had to restrain himself. His fingers switched between rolling your clit under his fingertips to seeing how far he could bury his fingers inside of you.

"How good do you taste?" He asked, ordering you to clean off your fingers of your own arousal. "Good?"

"Yes," you replied, after sucking your fingers clean on demand.

"I can't wait to taste you," he murmured, his hum of his voice shooting like a vibration between your legs, a fresh supply of that slick nectar coating his fingers. "Ah, fuck.'

Quinn hissed against his tightening cock pressing against the zipper of his pants. Each time you thrusted against his touch, it teased him and you could feel him press up into you. He was hard, making you want to ask him if he'd fuck you right there.

"Do you feel what you do to me?"

"Yes."

"Good girl." Upon the praise, Quinn buried two fingers deep into you, for the final push to get you to come when he said so. You were close; you had been since touching yourself. Your mouth was growing dry, having to constantly gasp for air against the throaty moans he was causing you to expel. You wanted to come, yet you didn't want to have his fingers be gone from your body.

"Are you going to come hard for me, sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh," you nodded, mouth open and eyes rolled back as you met his thrusts. His beautiful fingers lost inside your wetness just made you quicken your pace. He knew you were desperate to come, and he was nearing letting you finally let go. Just a few more minutes under his control was all he selfishly wanted and he'd get it, too.

"You've made such a mess."

"I know, I'm sorry," you whined, absolutely pathetic and lost in his touches.

"What do you want?"

"I want to come," you cried out.

"What else?" He dared you to say what you wanted later.

"I want-- I want to--," you were struggling to speak in complete sentences, and for good reason. Quinn had two fingers, knuckle-deep inside of you, pressing you to do what you were told. "I want to feel myself tighten around your cock, daddy!"

You were drooling as Quinn smirked behind you. Your hips were pushing against his erection harder now, causing Quinn to have to issue you a warning.

"Careful, princess. Not so hard; I'm not inside of you yet." His voice was low as he bit your ear. "Eager little daddy's girl, hm?"

"Yes!" You gasped, feeling Quinn's fingers slip back to your sensitive clit. You didn't know how much longer you could hold on.

Feeling you had deserved to finally have your release, Quinn brought his left hand to your throat and squeezed just enough to heighten the last few moments of pleasure. "You've done so well for me, baby. You've made daddy so proud. Would you like to come now?"

"Yes-- Yes, daddy, please! Please!"

With his lips right next to your ear, he breathed that phrase you had been craving, "Come for me, princess."

Your ears were ringing, legs were Jell-o, and your whole body was tingling as you were finally granted the extended orgasm you had begged for. Your moans were loud, but sounded so sweet to Quinn. He loved how your voice sounded at this stage, your fingers clawing at his skin, and you going limp against him as wave after wave of bliss flooded every one of your senses.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered again, holding you tightly against his chest, your back still to him. Your head had fallen back against the sofa, as you struggled to catch your breath. The room was spinning but you felt so good that it didn't matter.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Quinn asked softly, giving you as much time as you needed to find yourself again. He had all day, and he was kind enough to let you use as much as was necessary.

"Mhm," you mumbled, your voice sleepy. "Thank-- thank you."

"But of course," he said, a smile in his tone. "Take your time. There's no rush, but I'm going to take my fingers away, alright?"

You bit your lip and nodded; your hips jerked feeling his fingers withdraw from your over-stimulated petals. However, you quickly melted back into a feeling of weightlessness as Quinn's arms snaked around your waist, holding you tightly and keeping you right against him.

"Still okay?"

"Mhm."

Smiling, Quinn tightened his hold on your, nuzzling against your bare shoulder. "How about I get you cleaned up and you play dress-up for me, hm?"

You would nod again, and he'd let you get away with not using your words when he asked you a question. Quinn believed in a free pass every once in a while.

"Alright, swing your legs over, princess, and I'll carry you."

"I can--," you mumbled, still sleepy but you'd be interrupted.

"You can't walk, don't lie to me. I can see you're still shaking. You'd fall down if you tried to stand, and I won't have that. Legs. Don't make me ask again, sweetheart."

Swinging them to the left, this would be the first time seeing his face since he told you to get up and turn around. Your hair had fallen down from the messy bun it had been in, sweat had your skin glowing, and your bottom lip was red from how many times you had rolled it between your teeth. Quinn pulled your shirt back down before placing one last kiss to your exposed neck. He always led with his tongue. Your eyes would roll closed, feeling your core tense up in eager anticipation all over again.

"Just one last little tease, baby," he whispered. "There will be time for more later."

Hiding your face in the curve of his neck as he stood to his feet, you'd find yourself smiling at the thought.

- - -

The bath had been so relaxing.

Quinn had washed your face while the water filled, and made sure you didn't have to lift a finger for anything. All he had asked, was that you sipped at the glass of water he had given you. Everything he did was calculated, unhurried, and almost painfully soft. Even has he washed your hair, his fingers were careful never to pull through a snag. You were his little doll, and the most delicate of treatment would be afforded to you every time.

"Do you need anything else?" He asked, kneeling down to be level with you. You hadn't bounced back as quickly as he thought you would have, so he was keeping a close eye on you just to be sure. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I think so," you replied, eyes searching his face for a hint of what could be the reason for him still asking the same question so many times. He always checked in, but this seemed different. "Is something wrong?"

He smiled, "That's for me to worry about."

You remained quiet. You felt okay other than you were just physically drained.

"Have you had anything to eat today?" Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly, knowing you had a bad habit of forgetting meals.

Your guilty eyes fell from his face in an instant and you knew you'd have to answer for it. "Toast."

"Sweetheart, you can't live solely on toast."

"I know, but--" You went to bite down on your lip again, but you stopped yourself, just like you stopped yourself from saying something that would get you in trouble. "I'm sorry. I'll be better."

Quinn's hand found the side of your jaw, holding it to keep your gaze where he wanted it. "Thank you." His smile was minimal but spoke volumes, mostly that of how pleased he was at how well you knew your place and what he expected of you. When he called you a good girl, it was because you really were one.

"You stay here and relax a little more, and I'm going to make you something for lunch. Ah--," he stopped, putting his thumb to your lips to keep your mouth closed. "I'll come get you when I'm done. Do you understand?"

With his thumb tracing your lips, you'd give a nod to his question.

His smile deepened as he pulled your face to his for a kiss, making you work for it as the water sloshed about with you having to struggle to meet him. "That was mean of me," he lamented, finally letting you slide back into the warm comfort of the water. "You should be resting."

Quinn would kiss the top of your head before getting to his feet and leaving the room. However, before completely exiting, he'd turn to look at you, his eyes dark, "I expect you to be where I left you when I come back, princess. Towels and floors best still be dry."

"I promise."

"Thank you," he said, finally disappearing from your line of sight.

The water was still steaming hot, but you knew he wouldn't forget you, and leave you to sit in cold water. Having a moment in your own thoughts, you remember what he had asked of you. The NHL Awards were next weekend and you needed some black-tie-level dress to wear. You knew you had several such gowns hanging in Quinn's closet, you just weren't sure which one would be the one he'd pick. Mentally, you'd flip through each of them, deciding which ones you'd reach for, and which you'd pass on when asked to finally try them on. At the moment, you knew of five you knew he'd show interest in. One he hadn't seen yet.

Twenty minutes later, Quinn would return to the bathroom, and was pleased to find you sipping from your glass and just as promised.

"Ready to get out?"

"Yes, please."

- - -

Quinn laughed, setting down the bowl of lemon and herb pasta in front of you. "Do you want me to feed you?" You couldn't tell if he was being serious or actually joking with you. His laugh should have given it away, but the sheer nature of it all seemed very honest.

"I can manage," you replied softly, hopeful he wouldn't take offense. "Thank you."

"I know you can, just having a bit of fun," he winked, though a part of him did wonder how that would go if he told you that you just had to sit there while he brought food to your mouth. A thought for another day, perhaps. "I want you to let me know how you feel in a little bit."

"I will," you reassured. "I'm okay, Quinny."

Quinn turned his head, his brows raised. "That's for me to decide."

You adverted your eyes from his face, focused now on the marble veins of the island. You knew you had just spoken out of place and now you feared the consequences. You could hear his footsteps move back towards you, and through your peripheral you could see him headed to come up behind you.

"Do you think I don't know when there's something wrong with you, hm?"

Quinn's finger traced the curve of your spine through the black silk, slip dress he had chosen for you following your bath. You shuddered against his touch, eyes closing unsure of what he was going to do next.

"You do, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it that way."

His fingers continued to inch upwards, following your neck until the digits were buried deep in your freshly dried hair, coiling around it tightly. He had a fistful when he pulled you backwards, your eyes snapping open when you felt like you were going to fall off of the kitchen stool. You would be looking at the ceiling when Quinn stepped into your view, still gripping your hair by the roots.

"Have I ever been wrong?"

"No," you yelped, the nape of your neck more sensitive than you could remember. "You know better than I do! I'm stupid, I'm sorry."

Quinn's fingers let go in an instant, allowing you to pull yourself back up and catching your breath. He stepped around to your right, taking the empty seat beside you.

"Look at me," he ordered, causing you to turn your whole body to face him. "Never say anything like that about yourself, princess. You're not stupid. I don't like hearing you put yourself down, especially when it's incorrect. Understood?

"Yes," you replied quickly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was turning into a struggle.

Quinn's hand would touch your thigh and move upwards, stopping when his wrist reached the hem. "You're never stupid," he reiterated.

You sniffled, as you nodded at his statement. He knew you were sorry so you refrained from uttering the constant apology.

"What am I going to do with you?" He mumbled, looking you over as you continued to face him. Quinn reached forward for your silverware then the white ceramic bowl, his left hand still gripping your upper thigh.

With a perfect piece of bowtie pasta perched on the tines of the fork, Quinn instructed you to open your mouth. He'd feed you the whole bowl, one piece at a time.

- - -

Quinn sat on the edge of the bed, watching you as you thumbed through the hangers, looking for the dresses you had in mind for the following weekend. He finally felt confident that you were well enough to entertain his private little show. You were barefoot, wearing only the silk slip dress, and your hair was pulled back in a large, black hairbow. While on your tiptoes, he gazed at the curve of your calves, upwards to your full thighs and bum. So many places for his hands to hold, but he'd restrain himself from telling you to come over. He'd get the opportunity soon enough.

You decided to pull first the dress that he hadn't yet seen -- start strong right out the gate. It was black, floor-length and off the shoulder with long sleeves, with a single, thigh-high slit on the left side. No sparkles, no lace, just the dull satin to hug your body. Minimal but stunning.

Quinn would watch you let the slip dress fall from your body to a minimal pile on the floor as you stepped into the gown, pulling it up over your hips before it pulled your cleavage into place. You'd get the zipper up as far as your could on your own before he finally spoke to you.

"Come here."

As instructed, you'd saunter over, the slight train dragging behind you as you made your way across the room. And when told to turn around, you'd do so. Quinn's warm fingertips touched your back gently as he pulled the zipper up the remainder of the way.

"I like this one. Face me again." As you turned, his hands felt your curves until you were once against standing in front of him. "Set this one aside. I want to see something else before I decide."

He'd give you a nod to return to the closet and pick another for his viewing pleasure. The next one was similar, only it fully covered your chest while the entire back was out. Quinn wasn't as pleased with this one as he had the first.

"It's alright, but the first one suited you more. Put it back on for me."

Again, you'd find yourself walking back across the room, your heart beat quickening as you remembered just how much trying on anything for him made you wet. Any time you had taken photos for him while he was away turned you on so much that it made it easy to record a little something extra for him with nearly no effort. This was proving to be no different.

With the dress back on, you'd return to his side but this time he wouldn't complete the zipper. Instead Quinn would rise to his feet, a look in his eyes like he was plotting something.

"Over the bed, princess."

There it was. This was the "later" he had mentioned before carrying you off to the bath.

Doing as you were told, you bent over the bed, your arms outstretched in front of you, face down into the duvet, as you knew what that meant. You tried to contain your breathing, hiding that you were anxiously awaiting his next move. Quinn's hands gripped the curves of your hips as he pressed himself into you, forcing your legs wider apart with his foot. Your stomach tightened as you found yourself aching for his touch again. Slowly, the fabric of the dress was inched up until you were exposed in front of him.

"You deserve this," he said, the sound of a smirk in his tone. The smack he'd give to your ass stung like a hot iron but you couldn't lie -- it had felt good. "Did you like that?"

"Yes," you giggled, getting a rise out of Quinn.

"Oh, did you now?" While he was talking to you, you hadn't heard the sounds of him removing his pants, but what you felt next had you clawing at the sheets.

"Can you take all of me, princess?" He asked, teasing the head of his cock against your throbbing sex.

"Yes!" You cried out, your eagerness getting the better of you again, making Quinn laugh softly. "Please!"

He'd enter your awaiting folds in one, full thrust, pushing you deeper into the mattress. You'd moan into the blankets but the sound was hardly muted. With one hand, Quinn braced himself, while the fingers of his other slipped beneath the folds of the dress to flick your sensitive clit. Like before, you'd push back into him, feeling the pleasure strike you all at once. Each stroke he blessed you with was met with a deep thrust in tandem. All you could do was grab at the blanket beneath you and gasp for air between moans.

Adrenaline was making your hearing fade, but you could hear him enter you again, and again -- the bed thumping against the wall slightly. Everything felt so good: his cock plunging deep into you, his soft fingers teasing you devilishly, keeping you so close to the edge of ruin.

"You're so pretty, darling -- say it back. Tell me you're pretty."

You were so lost in the multitude of sensations rattling your cage that you almost didn't hear Quinn talking to you. You swallowed hard, gasping for air to help you form the words he wanted you to say.

"I'm pretty!"

"Mhmmmm, and you're prettiest when you're get so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Yes, daddy!"

"That's right. You're doing so well for me, but I think you can do better."

Upon issuing you the challenge, Quinn's pace quickened, and you were all but biting at the sheets. Slick fingers caressed your clit with such pressure you nearly forgot to breathe. Just when you thought you'd hit your limit, Quinn demanded more from you, more patience, more self-control.

"There you go," he purred. "Hold on until I tell you not to."

You wanted to scream. Your brain was pudding, but that release was so close, one thought and you'd explode. He was railing you so hard into the mattress you had to constantly keep grabbing new fistfuls of the duvet to hold your place. You were on your tiptoes, cramps threatening to buckle your legs. It was so much to handle.

"Just a little more, princess. You can do it. Wait for me."

Had you been biting your lip, you would have tasted blood. Every muscle keeping you upright was at its limit, but you had to do what you were told. The last few minutes felt like an eternity. You were nearing the point of overstimulation.

"Now, princess, tell me what you want." His voice was strained, trying to hold himself together.

"Come in me, daddy! Please!"

His release shot into you before you were finished uttering the words.

Eyes rolled in your head when he finally granted you your reward for being so good, "Let go, darling. Come for me."

Your back arched, pushing yourself down on him one more time before he pulled out, leaving himself dripping down your leg. "That's a good girl," he finished, leaving a kiss between your shoulder blades after you had collapsed into the bed. You would have slumped to the floor in a heap had Quinn not pulled you into his embrace on the bed. You couldn't find your breath at first.

"You're alright, breathe. Breathe with me, sweetheart."

You were crashing, reduced to a girl puddle in a black gown.

"I definitely want you to wear that dress. I'll be sure to fuck you in it afterwards, so you can just be a desperate mess for me the whole night, remembering what I've already done to you in it. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, daddy," you whispered, throat sore from gasping for air so many times.

"Thank you, princess." Quinn said, his arm tightening around you, as you went limp. You were exhausted and in need of another bath. For now, he'd just hold you while you had a little nap. You had earned that and much more.

[lvrgurlblobbu]

maybe next time?

college!zayne x fem!reader

⤿ CW: pure fluff!

⤿ word count: 2.3k

⤿ second part of code love series | previous part

ao3.

It’s been a week since you last saw Zayne, you’ve been going to the cafe where you saw him for the first time hoping that you’ll come across him again. But in the span of one week, you never saw him again.

What makes it worse is that you didn’t even know his major. You have no way of knowing where to look. The university’s campus is large, and without a clue as to where he spends his time, you feel like you’re grasping at straws. If only you had asked him just one more question, something, anything that could’ve given you a direction.

Today, though, was different. Your professor dismissed the class early due to an urgent meeting, leaving you with an unexpected chunk of free time. The lecture hall empties quickly, with students chatting amongst themselves and heading off to their next commitments. You sit there for a moment, gathering your things, the familiar hum of idle conversation swirling around you, but your thoughts remain focused elsewhere. You sling your bag over your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. Another day of fruitless searching. It’s starting to feel hopeless, like you’re just waiting for a chance that might never come.

Just as you’re about to leave, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Still thinking about that guy?”

You turn to see your friend Tara and Simone leaning against one of the desks, smirking knowingly. They were the only one you had confided in about Zayne—the stranger who had somehow left an imprint on your mind.

You hesitate before answering, but Simone doesn’t need a response. She roll her eyes playfully. “You’re down bad.”

You huff, shaking your head. “I just… I want to see him again.”

Tara crosses her arms. “Then maybe it’s time to change your strategy. You’ve been going to the same café all week. What if he only went there one time?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to you before. Had you been limiting yourself? You rack your brain for any other places Zayne could frequent. But with so little information about him, it feels like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?” you ask, raising a brow.

Your friends grin. “We ask around.”

Your heart skips a beat at the idea. It’s bold—maybe even a little embarrassing—but if it means finding Zayne, it just might be worth a shot.

“Oh Zayne! Yes, he's currently a sophomore majoring in Medical Biology.” A student said, which name is Greyson. As you looked at Greyson’s features, you remembered that he’s the colleague that Zayne was talking to in the cafeteria. He also happens to be Zayne’s close friend and a classmate of his.

“Is he around? Can we talk to him?” Tara asked, looking very much hopeful. But when Greyson scratched the back of his head as he looked at the three of you, you instantly knew his answer.

“About that, he’s currently busy with his lab work and volunteer hours at the hospital,” Greyson said apologetically. “He’s been swamped lately, so he doesn’t have much free time.”

Your heart sinks a little at the news. So that’s why you haven’t seen him. Still, at least now you know his major and have a better idea of where he spends his time.

Tara, ever the determined one, steps forward. “Do you know when he might be free?”

Greyson hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Honestly, he barely has time to breathe these days. But…” He glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “If you’re really looking for him, he usually hangs around the Medical Biology study lounge when he has a break.”

Your heart leaps at that. A lead.

“Where is it?” you ask immediately.

Greyson chuckles. “It’s in the West Science Building, second floor. But like I said, he’s really busy, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

You nod, gripping the strap of your bag. Even if there’s only a small chance, you’re not giving up now.

Tara nudges you with a smirk. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

With renewed determination, you and your friends head toward the West Science Building, hoping that this time, luck is on your side.

“Luck is not on our side.” Simone mumbled as you sat at the couch, you looked everywhere in the lounge hoping for Zayne but it seems like he’s not here.

You sigh, slumping slightly into the couch. So close, yet still no sign of him.

Tara crosses her arms. “Maybe he’s just not here right now,” she suggests. “We could wait a little longer.”

Simone groans, stretching her legs out. “We’ve been here for almost an hour. What if we just missed him?”

The thought makes your stomach sink. You glance around the study lounge again—students are scattered at different tables, some buried in textbooks, others quietly discussing notes. But none of them are him.

Then, your phone suddenly received a notification from your sister telling you to come home immediately.

“Sorry girls, I gotta go.” You said as you stood up, Tara and Simone looking at you confused.

“Go where?” Tara asked.

“My sister just texted me. She says I need to come home right away,” you explain, shoving your phone into your pocket and grabbing your bag.

“But what about Zayne? We haven’t found him, and maybe he’ll come around here in the lounge after a minute or two.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the entrance of the lounge. Tara has a point—Zayne could show up any minute, and if you leave now, you might miss your chance to talk to him.

“I know,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “But my sister’s message sounded urgent. I can’t just ignore it.”

Simone shifts in her seat, thoughtful. “Do you want us to stay here and wait for Zayne? We can let you know if he shows up.”

“It’s totally up to you two, but I suggest for the both of you to head home.” You chuckled, “Bye girls, see you tomorrow!”

You stepped out of the lounge and made your way to the elevator, only to find a long line of students waiting. With a heavy sigh, you decided to take the stairs instead, knowing it would be faster. As you arrived at the building’s lobby, you roamed your eyes around for the last time hoping to see Zayne but then again, you failed.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you left the University, you’re sitting at the window seat of the bus as you rode your way home, earphones attached to your ears, but your mind is miles away. The hum of the bus and the steady rhythm of the wheels on the pavement should be comforting, but instead, it feels like the world outside is just another blur—like you're disconnected from everything around you.

Then, you suddenly received a notification from your friends.

Tara: (Name)! Guess who we saw! **see attached photo**

Your heart leaps into your throat as soon as the image loads. There, in the photo, is Zayne—just as you remember him, but somehow, this feels different. He’s walking into the lounge, a stack of books in his arms, looking completely absorbed in whatever conversation he's having with his colleagues. The familiar serious look is on his face, not the relaxed version from the café, but something more focused, more… composed. It’s strange to see him like this, like he’s someone else entirely, yet still undeniably him.

Simone: Omg, he’s at the lounge right now!!! Are you seeing this??? Tara: You better come quickly!

You chuckled at their message, as much as you wanted to get off the next stop to sprint to your University, your sister needs you at home.

You: Sorry girls, need to go home TT Tara: That’s alright! We got you ;)

You smile a little, the lighthearted tone of her message easing some of the tension. They know how much this means to you, and even though you can’t act on it right now, at least they’ve got your back. You’re grateful for their encouragement.

Simone: Okay, I just did the job.

You frown slightly, your fingers still hovering over your phone as you try to figure out how to respond to Simone’s message. There’s something in her tone that makes you pause, like she knows something you don’t. Maybe it’s just her way of teasing you, or maybe she’s genuinely onto something. Either way, the thought lingers in your mind as you stare at the screen for just a moment longer, but then you hear the bus driver announce your stop.

With a soft sigh, you slide your phone into your pocket, knowing you’ll have to pick this up later. You grab your things and step off the bus, the cool air immediately hitting your face as you make your way down the familiar streets toward home. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of Zayne, and despite the fact that you’re heading in the opposite direction now, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to change. The moment might not be today, but the universe has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

The walk home is quiet, your footsteps the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. You pull your jacket a little tighter around you, your pace slow but steady, as you process everything that happened today.

You’ve finally arrived home, the familiar scent wraps around you, but before you can even settle into the moment, you hear the familiar voice of your sister coming from her room.

“Ugh, I just don’t know what to wear!” she calls out, frustration lacing her tone.

You smile to yourself. It’s always something with her, but at least it’s a distraction from your earlier thoughts. You drop your bag by the door and head toward her room. As you approach, you see her standing in front of her full-length mirror, holding up two completely different outfits—one casual, one more dressed-up—looking at herself with a furrowed brow.

After a few changes, your sister finally settled with the outfit she’s going to wear and immediately apologized for rushing you to come home. You just smiled at her and with a few finishing touches, she kissed your cheek for goodbye and she left.

You sit back on the couch, letting out a soft sigh. There’s a part of you that still feels a little restless, like you’re waiting for something to happen, something to change. It’s hard to shake off the idea of Zayne from earlier, the thought of seeing him again so close yet so far. But for now, there’s nothing to do but let things unfold.

You pull out your phone, checking the group chat once more. Simone’s last message is still there, waiting for you to dive into whatever she might have been teasing about. You smile to yourself, letting the tiny spark of curiosity push you to reply.

You were about to reply when a sudden text message from an unknown number caught your attention. Your heart skips a beat when you see the message from an unknown number. For a moment, you're frozen, unsure of what to expect. The familiar rush of excitement bubbles up, but you're also trying to stay grounded, telling yourself it could be anything.

You tap the message open, and the first thing you see is a simple text:

“Hey, it's Zayne. I know this might be a bit random, but Simone gave me your number. I hope that’s alright.”

Zayne. Zayne.

And then, Simone sent another message on your groupchat.

Simone: You’re welcome ;))

You giggled at her answer, you sent a reply to their message before opening your conversation with Zayne.

You: Hey, Zayne! Of course, that’s totally fine. It’s nice to hear from you!

You bite your nail absentmindedly, the seconds feeling like they stretch longer than usual as you wait for Zayne's response. Your thumb hovers over your phone, checking the time, then glancing back at the screen, expecting the little bubbles to pop up any second. The anticipation feels almost unbearable—like this could be the moment where something shifts, or maybe it’ll fizzle out. You have no idea, but you really hope it’s the former.

You’re starting to second-guess everything, wondering if your reply sounded too casual, too eager, or even too boring. Then your phone buzzes, breaking the silence, and you almost jump in surprise.

Zayne’s reply lights up the screen:

Zayne: Glad to hear that! I’ve been a bit busy with school stuff, but I was hoping we could meet up soon. Maybe we can actually schedule our next meet up or date?

Date. Date.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of date. You stare at the message, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves wash over you. It’s like he’s finally saying what you’ve both been dancing around, but now that it's out in the open, the weight of it is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

Date. The word keeps echoing in your head as you read the message over again, your thumb hovering over the reply button. He wants to meet up soon. He wants to actually schedule something. This isn’t just a passing interest anymore. He’s serious about wanting to see you.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus and not overthink. You quickly type your reply, making sure to keep it light but still show that you’re just as excited as he seems.

You: That sounds awesome! I’d love to. Just let me know when you're free, and we’ll make it happen!

You smile as you send it, feeling a little giddy but also relieved. There’s no turning back now—you’re both on the same page, and it feels like the start of something exciting. You can’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought of seeing him again, but for now, all you can do is wait for his reply and hope that this “date” really does come together.

dividers by: @dollywons

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 11 - More Then Friends

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: mentions of blood, its all fluff.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Price, Ghost and Gaz left first. Leaving before the sun was up in a somewhat hectic rush. Their plan was to get over the border then commandeer a car or something. Price said it could be a few days before you hear from them but they will send word. 

Soap sulked down the stairs an hour or so later, when the sun was just peaking through the clouds. You can’t wait to leave here and never come back. The whole blood soaked place can burn to the ground for all you care.

“They left already.” You say as he comes to sit on the sofa next to you.

“I know. Si- Ghost came to say bye.” He shuffles on the couch rubbing his burnt arm. You’ll need to change the dressing before you leave. “We should get going soon. We need to get a car. It’s easier to do while it’s still dark out.” 

You follow Soap’s orders in silence, the lack of sleep is finally catching up with you. You change the dressing as Soap grits his teeth complaining about itching. You have no idea if it’s healing or if its still supposed to look the way it does. It’s only been a day or so anyway. 

When you’re done Soap steals some supplies- mostly food -from the safehouse and you set out to look for a vehicle. It doesn’t take you long to find a rather old looking car, you keep an eye out while Soap hotwires it like he’s done this a thousand times. Before you know it you’re on the road driving back to Sakhra.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks after at least an hour of silence, you were starting to doze off. His question jolts you awake and you look over at him. 

“Why did you kiss me?” You ask. He smiles.

“I just had to, you’re stunning lass.” He says, it makes you blush. You turn to look out the window of the car. 

“Don’t falter me, a few days ago you would have put a bullet in my head.” 

“Yeah, we’re not merciless killers though.” You scoff, they’re soldiers, they're trained killers. You sit there in silence. 

“You’re a good kisser.” He says suddenly. 

“What- I mean. It was just a kiss.” You say feeling embarrassed, he just laughs. That annoys you, he’s being so chill about it, what if Price found out? What if he finds out then decides you’re a liability?

“You all seem close.” You say trying to move the subject on from you and Johnny. 

“Closer than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re a close unit. Worked together for years. When you spend so much time together, you develop a strong relationship.” He says switching between watching the road and your expression. You have an eyebrow raised, you expected him to continue. 

“Brothers in arms right?” You say, you’ve heard that before from soldiers.

“More than that.” You shake your head scoffing. He’s playing with you, trying to wind you up. What's closer than brothers? 

“You fucking each other or somthing.” You joke back. He doesn’t say anything, you turn back to look at him frowning. He’s just smiling, the cheekiest grin you think you’ve ever seen. “Really? You’re messing with me.” He just laughs, it doesn’t help you decide if he’s joking or not.

You let out a sigh looking out at the winding road. You’re not far now.

____

When you make it back to the ULF base the place is almost empty. You both head straight to the doctor who fixes your stitches and tends to Soap’s arm as well as giving him a pot of burn cream and instructions. 

When you’re done you both go to see Farah. Alex is with her, they both look tired. The table is filled with maps dotted with big red X’s. You look round as Soap catches them up on what happened. You wonder if Price has sent word yet, you hope they’re okay.

“-We take out Konni, before they make it any further south.” Farah says, you look over at them, catching the end of the conversation. 

“We don’t know if Konni are moving or not. Price will be able to give us some idea.” Soap says.

“We could be waiting days for that.” Alex says crossing his arms, he doesn’t have a sling anymore, maybe his arm was just sprained.

“They attacked their own bases?” You ask pointing at the map. 

“They want to shift the blame to us.” Farah says.

“The fact they used American weapons on civilians has got the US all wound up.” Alex says.

“They’re spreading us thin, I’ve already lost 20 men. We can’t fight them on the front without leaving ourselves open to attacks.” Farah sighs.

“You have weapons from the US, why not fight back?” You ask. There’s silence, people look around at you like you’ve just asked them to do something impossible. 

“If we fire on them we lose our advantage.” She says.

“Which is?” Soap asks.

“If the Americans come, they won’t be after us.” She says. You look down at the map, the new line Al Qatala have formed. There’s no news if Konni or Al Qatala forces have made a move from the border, it seems like they’re waiting for the ULF to make a move first. 

It’s too many targets for Farah to handle alone. 

“What about hitting them at the source? Take out the rest of their weapons.” You say pointing at the farm you know they’ve been storing munitions and rockets.

“They were fired from Russia.” Alex said.

“No, they were fired from inside the country. I bet if it's going to be anywhere it’s there.” You tap the map. Farah and Alex look at eachother. 

“A full scale raid is not possible.” She says, stepping back from the table.

“We could go in quiet.” Soap says. “Just the 4 of us.” 

“The place will be heavily guarded. They could have also moved them elsewhere.” Farah says.

“Even if we don’t find the missiles we will deal a pretty big blow to their resources.” Soap says. “You need all the help you can get.” 

“Okay. Tonight, you should get some rest.” Farah says. Soap smiles at her and Alex. He grabs your arm gently pulling you out of the room. You’re heading down to the sleeping quarters before Soap grabs your arm pulling you into a store room. 

“Hey!” You call, you almost trip over something as his hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up against the wall. Before you have a chance to say anything his lips lock onto yours. His kiss is needy, his tongue pressing into your mouth. You hum, closing your eyes and letting your hands drop to his waist. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as he pulls his lips off you, his mouth moving to your neck. His hands 

“What?” He asks, he’s not stopping though, running his tongue up your neck.

“What if Price found out?” 

“What do you mean?” He says. “Want him to join, I reckon he’ll be down for that.” He chuckles, now you’re convinced he's winding you up. You push your hands up his shirt and he grip your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, you’re sure he’ll be leaving marks. You run your fingers up his chest, feeling each muscle and scar. He’s hairy, you don’t care, now you’re getting needy, his lips running over you sucking on the sensitive spots on your neck. 

He looks up down at you, his hands come to hold your face. “I’m so glad I got you first. I thought I was going to have to fight off Gaz, or Price.” You frown at him but before you can press him further he kisses you. You drop your hands from his chest, gripping his waist and pulling him closer to you. 

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, you didn’t think anyone knew you were in here.

“Soap? There’s word from Price.” it’s Alex’s voice. Johnny smiles down at you.

“We’ll finish this later.” He says quietly before reaching over to open the door. You feel yourself blushing as Alex raises an eye at you both. Johnny slaps him on the shoulder and they walk away.

Banners by plum98

[wyattjohnston]

just between you and me - cole caufield

summary: you return to montreal after some time abroad and it unleashes a whole new slew of questions.

word count: 3,325

note: this is for @lam-ila for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k25! i hope you like it maleeha <3 thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and for all your help!!

main character: feminine reader insert

The windowpane offers a nice reprieve from the chaotic warmth being produced by seemingly everybody you’ve ever known being invited to your welcome back party. It’s well below freezing which isn’t at all unusual for Montreal, and—you’ll never admit this out loud—sitting next to the window is the closest you’re going to get to outside. Belgium had been utterly tropical in comparison and you’re ashamed by how quickly the Montreal weather became too much. The crowd of people sitting on the balcony are, quite frankly, out of their minds.

“Don’t think you should be sitting over here by yourself.”

You move your attention from the group outside to the person who just joined you, smiling gently when you realise who it is followed by a just as gentle, “Hi, Cole.”

The confusion across his face is clear and it lasts longer than just a passing second, before he’s saying your name back to you in such a questioning manner that you start to wonder if you’ve somehow been wrong all these years.

He shuffles further into the booth opposite you, leaning all his body weight onto his forearms and the table between them, and says emphatically, “No fucking way.”

You understand his reaction somewhat, knowing that the semester spent in Belgium had been eye opening and experimental, but you can only shrug at him because visibly all that’s changed about you that night is that you’ve put on some makeup and worn something a little tighter than you used to.

“You look—” he pauses, and you sigh to yourself because you know what’s coming next. “You look great. Belgium really did a number on you, eh?”

“Sure, you could put it that way.”

The compliment is nice, regardless, so you take it at face value and put your own arms on the table, leaning in towards him. He grins, toothy and all encompassing, and you’re shunted back to the small crush you’ve always had on him. It’s not anything that takes over your life; sometimes you’re not even sure it’s anything more than the thought that he’s available, but it’s enough to send butterflies into your stomach.

He tells you to stay put, and you do as you’re told even if you’re contorting yourself in your seat to see exactly where he’s gone and what he’s up to. The drink he brings back to you is what he knows as your favourite; you thank him for the soft drink, even if that’s also something that changed while you were away.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, a couple days later, you get a text from Cole asking when you’re next free which is quickly followed by another text with the days he’s free that week.

Hanging out with Cole wasn’t uncommon, though it was typically part of a larger group. It’s not explicit that this is one-on-one in any way other than Cole being the one to initiate and organise; he always left that to someone else and just showed up wherever the people were.

You leave them on your Lock Screen for most of the day and wait until the Habs game is over that night to text him back—whilst you wouldn’t give him the quick response he was undoubtedly after, there’s no way you’re going to put yourself in the position to wait by texting him mid-game.

The text you send reads “that depends what we’re doing” and it’s not until the read receipt pops up and you read it back that you realise it probably sounds quite flirty. It’s not not the message you were trying to convey but your palms get a little sweaty when it really kicks in that the flood gates have just been opened.

Cole’s unbridled joy is conveyed through his texts—the win probably doing some heavy lifting there—and the abundance of exclamation marks. Though, truthfully, they might not be that uncommon for Cole.

“We can go bowling!! Or ice skating!! Or you can come over??!!”

It’s endearing if not a little overwhelming.

Ice skating is the pick, and you can’t help but laugh at the idea of him using his day off to do more skating. It was his suggestion, and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so you don’t bring it up at all.

He helps with your skates even though you’re more than capable; he just kneels down in front of you and starts lacing them up before you can even begin to tighten them yourself. He does look cute when he smiles up at you proudly, so you don’t have it in you to fight it.

Cole is holding your hand the moment you’re stepping onto the ice. You know how to skate and he knows you know how, so it’s not a tight, steadying grip. In fact, it’s having the opposite effect as your knees get weak because even through two pairs of thick, winter gloves you can feel every part of his hand against yours.

On the ice you can hear a guy yapping at his poor date about how good he was at hockey, how he could have gone pro, but he decided it was better for him to go to university and get a real job because of some made up reason that trailed off before he really finished his sentence. You couldn’t hide your laugh at it all, a full-bodied snort that drew the attention of the couple, so you curled into Cole to try and pretend it was something he’d said.

It did end up being Cole who was making you laugh, when he leant in closer whilst he kept you moving across the ice to repeat the guy’s ridiculous claims. The hockey bro voice he was putting on—or maybe just playing up—really sent you over the edge, and you had to hold onto him to keep upright as your laughter got to a point where breathing was problematic.

Being pulled effortlessly around the rink by Cole was something. It certainly wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, and even less so when you were able to gather some bearings and make eye contact with him. You weren’t sure anyone had ever looked at you with such softness and sincerity; you had to look away.

It’s so cliché when you step off the ice to get hot chocolate that you have no choice but to sit opposite him and ask him a question that’s been on your mind all day.

“Is this your go-to first date?”

“It’s…” he pauses briefly, sheepish. “It’s in the rotation, yeah. Seasonal. You’re my favourite.”

You avert eye contact, staring at your hands where they’re wrapped around the source of warmth that is your cup. Cole’s foot nudging against yours doesn’t do a lot to help keep your voice steady because your mind has conjured up an image of Cole and the poor date from earlier. She’s stunning, exactly the type of woman who would make a perfect WAG—no amount of makeup or otherwise traditionally feminine behaviour would ever make you feel like you could match her.

It’s with a weak voice you say, “You probably say that to all the girls.”

“No.” Cole doesn’t miss a beat. “Just you.”

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you’re filled with so much emotion that you screw your eyes shut because you don’t want to see the face he makes at your delirious smile.

Before you leave, the wannabe hockey player catches up with you and asks Cole for an autograph and a photo which are happily provided. He tells his date, before you and Cole can even get out of earshot, that he was a better player than Cole has ever been and would have gone higher in the draft had he kept up with hockey.

“Can’t believe the world doesn’t get to see the next Gretzky play just because he wants to…” he trails off into unintelligible mumbling.

The number of dates you’ve been on—and they are dates, Cole has made that exceedingly clear—is quite frankly outstanding for it having been two weeks. It feels like every day he’s free, and you don’t have classes, you’re together. It’s a lot, to be honest, but it’s not bad.

It’s not like you’ve never gone to a nice restaurant before—your parents were fans of the finer things in life, and you and your friends liked to treat yourselves on your birthdays—it’s just not something you ever pictured yourself doing with Cole. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t thought about doing much with Cole until he’d suddenly started showing interest.

The maître d’ knows Cole and you’re not so sure whether it’s because Cole is a regular or because he plays for the Habs. It’s likely both.

You don’t feel like you fit, despite any sudden interest in fashion and skincare you’ve developed—when you went out with your friends in Belgium, it was always met with judgemental, and disbelieving looks that you belonged.

You push down your discomfort and let Cole order your dinner because the menu is intimidating. He asks the waiter to bring the wine that pairs best with each course, and then turns to you and says, “Pop?”

“Just seltzer, please,” you say to Cole before turning to the waiter with a timid smile. “Thank you.”

When you turn your attention back to Cole, he’s visibly confused—his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth pulled tight. You tilt your head, confused by his confusion but he doesn’t say anything to you.

“I don’t drink soft drinks anymore,” you explain. It doesn’t clear his confusion. “Just trying to take better care of my teeth. That seems to be the change that’s got you the most.”

“Just surprised. It’s not a bad thing.”

You tilt your head at him again, waiting for him to elaborate, but the waiter returns with your drinks and Cole easily shifts the conversation to his brother, Brock.

At the next table there’s a couple, probably in their early 50s, who are absolutely besotted with each other. You catch yourself staring at them a lot throughout the evening, hoping to learn what really makes a relationship perfect. Cole notices, too, though he stares far less at them than he does at you. When you catch him staring, the heart eyes he’s developed are enough to make your heart swell.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says after one of the times he gets caught, as if it’s not what he said the second he laid eyes on you at your front door.

The compliments have come through thick and fast since Cole came back into your life. You’re not mad about them, really, and you’re proud of what you’re now able to do with your makeup and the outfits you’re able to put together so that they are outfits and not just pants and a top, but every time he says something nice you’re reminded of the years where he said nothing of the sort—when you were just another person in the same room.

It comes out of nowhere, is much of the problem. It’s been a month, maybe two, of thoughts running through your head, of what you and Cole are and what he really thinks about you—about anything—and you’ve not asked. You probably should have because it’s not an inconsistent thought in your head about what any of this even means.

You and Cole are sitting on his couch, watching a 90s teen romcom, not having said a word for half an hour, when you sit up straight and stare at him.

He looks put out by having lost your body heat, instantly reaching out to pull you back, but you can’t get over Laney Boggs’ sudden transformation into a Prom Queen and so you start spilling a months’ worth of thoughts to him.

“I can’t keep this up, Cole,” you say with all the dramatics of the main character of a romcom.

It sort of feels like he’s in a constant state of confusion when you’re around and it adds to all the thoughts running through your head because what could he possibly see in you when he doesn’t ever seem to know what to expect next.

He asks, “Keep what up?”

“Pretending that it doesn’t kill me that you’re only interested in me now that I’m more of a girly girl.”

There’s a beat, where he stares at you, and you stare back, and his face screws up and your heart does the same, but you bite your lip because really, you need to hear something from him, anything.

“What?” he says—it’s less of a question than a silence filler. “No. No that’s—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it?” You cut him off before he can stumble over any more words. “Because you weren’t taking me on dates or showing any interest when I was drinking nothing but pop and wearing nothing but sports merch but put me in a dress with a boring water in my hand and all of a sudden you can’t get enough of me.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… I don’t care about water,” he says, staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. Maybe you have. You’re not sure exactly what you look like at that moment. Promptly more unkempt than when you showed up, maybe a little crazier in the eyes—maybe doing a reverse She’s All That while the end of the movie plays behind you.

“You can’t even deny it,” you argue back, sitting further back against the arm of the couch and putting more space between you and Cole. He’s listening to every word you say, rolling them all through his mind one by one. “I thought I was alright with it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you have ever looked at me that way if everything about me hadn’t changed?”

Cole’s face changes even more at that point, the confusion morphing into something a little pained and that makes sense to you if he feels like he’s been called out. He leans forward, trying to close some of the space you’ve created, but pulls back a little when you show any sign of helping the space disappear.

His shoulders fall and he says confidently, “I’m into you, babe. Just you.”

There’s part of you that wonders why he hasn’t made a move. There have been makeouts and cuddling but nothing more and you’re not mad about that at all, you’re quite happy that the pace has been slow in that respect, but the fact that it hasn’t come up at all has been playing on your mind because is he into you? Any version of you?

It’s not the most burning question in your mind right then, though, and you manage to get out, “But would you have ever asked me out the way I was before Belgium?”

“I didn’t…” All his confidence is gone. “I didn’t think of you that way before.”

You nod and stand, knowing that staying in that room is going to hurt even more than the conversation you’ve just had. So you say, “Okay,” as you’re walking to the door and following it up with, “That’s all I needed to know,” when you’re turning the doorknob.

Cole is standing, too, though he’s not moving towards you. He’s standing by the couch, looking small and curled in on himself. Your heart breaks just a little bit more when he asks, “Are we—Are we breaking up?”

Despite all the dates and the time you’ve been spending together, you’re not even sure that you’re at a point where you can ‘break up’. There’s been no conversation about what you are outside of calling the time you’re spending together dates.

“I don’t know what we are, Cole,” you say, tired and desperate to get out of his house and be alone. “I just need some time to think.”

You can hear your roommate open the front door, immediately telling whoever is there that you don’t want to see them. It’s not hard to connect the dots. Especially not when they line up perfectly with the Habs returning from a road trip.

Cole is talking before your roommate has even finished speaking, hurriedly trying to say he just wants to talk to you, and nothing else, and he has to explain things and the more the talks the faster he gets, and your roommate is trying to get a word in but Cole isn’t letting her.

It’s not anybody else’s job to be your bodyguard, so you prepare yourself mentally to rescue her from his rapid-fire speech. There’s no physical effort to put in, especially not when you putting in effort is what caused all your problems to begin with, so you step into the hall wearing a two-sizes-too-large Habs shirt with a hole in each armpit and the shorts made of sweatpants material that haven’t been seen outside your house since prior to you leaving for Belgium. Your skincare routine may or may not have been neglected in the last 48 hours, you don’t actually remember. The spots brewing suggest it’s more like in the may not column.

Yet, despite that, Cole’s eyes are on you the second you’re in his line of sight, and the relief rolling off him is palpable. He stops talking, finally taking a breath, and you just nod at your roommate when she silently asks if you actually want to do this. She takes a deep breath, waits half a second for you to change your mind, and then leaves you and Cole standing in your small entry hall.

“Sorry about the road trip,” you say, suddenly struck by his silence after how fast his mouth had been moving before you were standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds desperate, even more so than when he was begging to see you. “I—I’m into you. I don’t want whatever you think I think to get in the way of that.”

“But you weren’t into before I looked different.”

“You don’t look that different,” he counters. “I don’t think you’re wearing any make up right now and I am still really into you.”

Your cheeks warm, and you struggle to get out anything because you truthfully don’t have a lot of will to argue with him if he’s into you. You do manage, “You never showed any interest before,” which is just a repeat of everything you’ve already said.

“Then you disappeared for months, and I realised I missed you. The timing isn’t great for whatever you think is going on, but I promise I like you. A lot. And I want to keep going on dates and hanging out and all of that stuff. You can wear whatever you want or don’t want, it makes no difference to me.”

“Why didn’t you say any of that last week?”

He laughs, a snort which is largely self-deprecating, “I couldn’t wrap my head around what you were saying because it didn’t make sense to me. Kind of put me on the spot there, babe. Also felt like a bit of a trap with the movie if we’re being honest with each other.”

You sigh, “The movie was an accident. It did, uh, cause everything to kind of burst, though.”

“Can we go back to hanging out? To dating? The last week’s sucked sorta hard.”

You can’t disagree that it’s sucked sorta hard. Despite needing the time to think about it, the absence of Cole’s silly texts throughout the day or his random minute-long phone calls because his thought was too much for a text had left a huge gap in your day that you hadn’t even realised he’d been filling.

It’s easy, then, to move towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

[ceslatoil]

Ghost Filbrick AU

So a few weeks ago I was in the group chat and I pitched an idea for a fic (not writing it anytime soon, I have enough projects on my plate for now!) and it’s about the Pines family visiting Ma Pines before she moves to an assisted care facility. Main idea is that Dipper and Mabel meet Filbrick’s ghost who is trying to hinder the move, and the family trying to get him to move on. Lots of family drama ensues.

I wrote like, a scrap of a script draft for it if y’all wanna read it below:

(Scene: The grown ups, including CARYN, STAN, FORD and COOPER, MABEL & DIPPER’s dad, are all up playing cards. CARYN pulls out the Tarot Deck)

Caryn: I call this one “Last Man Standing!” You put down a card and the other player has to put down either the same suit or card number. If someone plays a major arcana card like wheel of fortune or the star, they can switch up the minor arcana suit. If you play death or the tower, the other players draw four. Whoever has zero cards wins!

Dad Pines: Grandma I think you just reverse engineered Uno

Stan: Dad wouldn’t buy us more than one card deck, so we made due with Ma’s tarot.

Ford: I thought it was to keep you from cheating the deck

Caryn: Both things could be true! Now hush.

Stan: … Coop is everything all right with Dipper? It’s not my business but… he seemed pretty cagey with ya earlier.

Caryn: Cagey? The kid stormed out of the room in the middle of dinner! Granted it was *my* cooking, so I can’t really hold a grudge on that front. (*plays a card*) That’s The Fool, so we’re reversing direction.

Ford: … It just doesn’t seem like him.

Coop: … that’s been the norm lately, I’m afraid. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce well, with me moving out and I just haven’t been around as much since then.

Ford: Mabel told us in one of her letters you were in family therapy together?

Coop: We’ve had a few sessions, yes. She loved it, got along great with our counselor. I think she asked a few times about becoming a therapist someday! But Dipper doesn’t really participate much during the sessions. He just sulks in the corner, like he doesn’t want to be there at all.

Stan: He’ll get over it. He’s stubborn, but not the type to hold a grudge.

Ford: I can’t imagine any of this is easy for any of you.

Coop: Weirdly enough, me and Annie— uh, Annie and *I*— have gotten on better than ever. Divorce was the best thing to happen to our relationship, it’s like we’re finally friends again?

Stan: Divorce ain’t so bad, I’ve done it at least six times now!

Caryn: I thought about divorcing your father, but he died before I got around to it. Suit change.

Ford: when did Dad pass?

Stan: … ‘97.

Ford: … I see. (*silence*)

Caryn: … Let’s not talk about funerals right now. God knows I’ve been to enough of ‘em. I’m just glad one of ‘em didn’t count. (*pinches Stan’s cheek.*)

Stan: … me too, Ma.

Ford: … Last Man Standing

Stan: Like hell you are, you shit, draw four!

Ford: … that’s not the tower, that’s a Stan Buck!

Caryn: Don’t tell me you’re still making Stan Bucks! You know damn well that’s not how money works!

(This next part is self indulgent and idk if I’ll include it in the fic proper)

Caryn: Now Stanford… let me ask you a question. Why the hell have you been hiding your left hand in your pocket all night?

Ford:…. I don’t know what you mean— HEY!

(Caryn pulls his hand out of his pocket, examines his second ring finger)

Caryn: Stanford Filbrick why does it look like you have a wedding band on your finger?

Ford: …. (*sighs*) because I have a wedding band on my finger.

Caryn: AHA! Here we are moping about death and divorce and you sit on good news like that! Who is she? Who’s your wife? Where’d you meet her, what’s her family like, what does she do?

Ford:… I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.

Stan: The guy used to live in the dump and now he’s a millionaire inventor running for president.

Caryn: You married McGucket?! Me and the girls canvassed for him this year! Wait till I tell that Janine, that’ll get her to pipe down about her Chiropractor Son-In-Law for once!

Coop: I really like his policies on infrastructure, very forward thinking!

Stan: Eh, I’m voting third party. Nothing personal, I just don’t want a brother in law who’s commander in chief. It would make thanksgiving a nightmare.

Ford: You’re a felon, you can’t vote at all.

Stan: That hasn’t stopped me in thirty years!

Ford: So Ma, you’re… fine with—

Caryn: Sweetie, until this morning I thought two of my sons were dead and one cut all ties. I figured I deserved it. Sitting back while your Father gave you all grief for nothin. I told myself if I ever saw you again I’d take you as is, and I meant it.

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

006 》 PARK SEONGHWA

maybe starting back at square one is what you needed. during a night out with two of your girlfriends you haven’t seen since your nights out at the frats, a particular bartender has perked your interest. before the question of will he accompany you at thanksgiving, will he let you have him so easily?

wc 21.7k i told y’all its getting juicy | smut minors dni, drinking, mentions of death, hwa’s situation is a lil fucked up

your bed was warm— warmer than usual, warmer than it should be. it felt comforting, relieving almost, you didn’t want to open your eyes and face the day, instead relish in the unending solace your bed was feeding you. you groaned, stretching your body out, half awake and eyes still shut, not expecting your arm to be stopped halfway in its reach. 

your eyes fly open, adrenaline shooting through you. you don’t remember leaving with jisung, and who the hell else could be in your bed? 

dark brown hair laid over his sleeping face, knotted and frizzed to oblivion, his face buried in one of your pillows. on his stomach, his arms were tucked underneath the pillow, face hidden behind his bicep, only a fraction of his face was visible to you. the last person you’d ever expected was asleep next to you, radiating over six feet of body heat. you can feel your heart pounding against your chest, racking your brain for any memory of the night before. you remembered being in the car, san carrying you inside, but after that was darkness— nothing. 

you’d definitely gotten more drunk than intended, but this drunk? to wake up next to yunho? your hand comes up to clutch your chest, checking for clothes on your body— a big tee hung loose on your shoulders, but as you rubbed your legs together, they were bare, which means the possibility is there. 

you erupted in flames, there’s no way. 

“yunho.” you whisper yelled, but he didn’t so much as stir, muffled snores coming from his nose. you shook his shoulder once, twice, voice getting louder, “yunho!” 

one of his eyes peeled open, looking at you for just a moment before his eyebrow curled up in question. his eyes slowly moved as he took in his surroundings, as realization set in– he didn’t seem as taken aback as you were.

“morning,” he grumbled as he untangled his arms from beneath your pillow, flopping onto his back. he stretched his arms behind his head and you watched as his chest puffed outward, the muscles in his biceps flexed, how his fingers scrunched to fists. 

you swallowed, still whispering, “why are you in here? yunho, there’s no way we—”

he looked at you as if you had three heads, answering your question before you asked it, his neck snapping to the side and eyebrows hung so low above his eyes you felt stupid for even considering the fact you might’ve done something. a sound of amusement left his nose and his face softened, his voice deep and mangled with sleep as he said, “you were drunk and asked me to stay with you, i didn’t really have the option to say no. plus, i was kinda scared you’d choke if you got sick again or something.” 

your cheeks flush again, the embarrassment growing worse. you bring your palm to your forehead, trying to rack your brain of events from the previous day, groaning. “i’m sorry, thank you for staying with me.” 

he laughs, a deep chuckle, one you’d never heard before, “do you know how fucking insane you sleep? hitting me, throwing your entire body on top of me, i woke up at least four times.” 

a smile grows on your face, some of the embarrassment washing away— he was being normal about it, you had no reason to not be. “good, you deserve it.” 

“hey,” he warns, then yawns, speaking through it, “you said you were tired of being mad at me. no take backs.” 

“i don’t remember saying it, so it doesn’t count,” you sit up in your bed, and your head pounds. you groan, palm returning to your forehead, a slew of curses flying from your mouth. 

yunho audibly stretches again then sits up next to you, “let’s get you meds and food.” 

you frown, “what if i just go back to sleep?” 

“at least brush your teeth,” his nose scrunches up, “you got sick last night, like, all over the parking lot.” 

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you gasp in shock, the remnants of your embarrassment showing in your flushed cheeks. “you didn’t at least flush my mouth out with mouth wash?”

he gives you a look that says are you kidding me?

“you’re right, you did more than enough. thank you for taking care of me,” you nod in defeat, tone genuine despite the humor laced behind your entire exchange so far. you take a second getting out of your bed, bones cracking as your legs bend over your mattress, you slept like shit. 

while brushing your teeth, memories of yesterday flood your mind like flashbacks, going through the hours of the day from start to finish. you groan with a mouth full of toothpaste, hand coming to hit your forehead again, embarrassment washing over you again. from almost falling off of jisung’s shoulders to kissing him in front of everyone, you think maybe you should just pretend yesterday never happened. 

when you come out of the bathroom, yunho is still in your bed, laying on his back, typing away on his phone. you pull on some sweatpants and turn to him, “are you cooking breakfast?” 

his phone hits the bed, eyes pointed, “you should at least help.” 

your lips pulled into a line, but you couldn’t argue. “fine.” 

you followed behind yunho all the way down to your kitchen where vivi was sitting at the kitchen island, passing your mom and matt in the living room on the way there. they all mumbled different versions of good morning, your house smelling of freshly brewed coffee and whatever candle your mom had burning. 

“morning vee,” yunho greets as he comes around the corner of the island, picking up her coffee mug from the granite. he takes a sip and grimaces, “needs more cream.” 

“we don’t have any,” she complains, not batting an eye at yunho for stealing her drink, “only tiny’s oat milk.” 

“hey,” you frown, “i need that, don’t waste it.” 

“i’m not wasting it if i’m drinking it,” she bites back, then plants her palms on the counter to stand, slipping off of her chair. 

“we’re about to make breakfast,” yunho says, and she stops in her movements, “you should stay and help, or laugh at tiny when she tries to cook.” 

a smile spreads across vivi’s face, blue hair laying over her cheeks. she climbs back into the chair, setting her sweatshirt covered elbows down on the counter with her chin in her palms, “good thing you’re here yuyu, she’ll burn the whole fucking house down if she tries to cook on her own.” 

“hey!” you plant your hands on your hips on the opposite side of the counter, “i am more than capable of making eggs and bacon.” 

vivi raises her eyebrows in amusement, “yeah, okay.”

you let out a huff and make your way to the coffee machine, grabbing your mug from the cabinet above the machine, pouring yourself a full cup. after adding oat milk and taking three ibuprofen, you were ready to cook— behind your back, yunho had already begun laying out all the ingredients. 

footsteps came slowly down the stairs, getting louder as they hit the platform and you know the others are awake. you turn to vivi, “when’s ace coming home?” 

vivi doesn’t look up when she answers, “some time this morning, pretty sure.” 

your lip lifts in dissatisfaction. you raise your voice, head turning in the direction of the living room, “mom, when’s ace coming home?” 

“his location says he’s twenty minutes away, i don’t know if he’s dropping reia off,” your mom yells back from the living room, and san winces at the volume as he enters the kitchen. 

yeosang follows behind through the threshold, san has a hand raised up to the side of his head. with a bare torso and sweatpants, he frowns, “it’s too damn early for you to be yelling.” 

“i dare you to go say that to her,” you jutt your chin out in the direction of the living room, smirking at san. he rolls his eyes, but takes your challenge to your surprise. 

“mom, it’s too damn early to be yelling,” san says just loud enough for her to hear. 

“tiny yelled first!” your mom argues, completely dismissing san calling her mom— she’s used to it. you hear her footsteps before you see her as she makes her way into the kitchen, hair and makeup done already. “take some ibuprofen, i know you all got trashed yesterday.”

“tiny got the most trashed out of all of us,” yeosang defends himself, taking a seat next to vivi at the counter. in a white tee and basketball shorts, definitely clothes he keeps in the guest room dresser, he looked exhausted. 

your mom stands at the entrance to the kitchen, taking in the sight of all of you. she looks you up and down, popping an eyebrow as she said, “i can tell.” she walks further into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table off to the side, “who drove?”

“yunho,” you answer, pointing in his direction with your thumb, then slid the bottle of ibuprofen across the island to the two boys. you didn’t even look at yourself when you brushed your teeth, too consumed with embarrassment from the day before— you couldn’t imagine what you looked like. 

“good boy,” your mom smiles with affection in her lens-covered eyes, she loves yunho— every parent does. “how was it? did you see who you wanted to see?” 

yunho turns on the stove, grabbing a pan from one of the cabinets beneath the kitchen island. he places dairy free butter on the pan as it heats up, and you grab for the eggs beside the stove. 

“it was so good,” yeosang answers for you, turning around in his chair to face your mom, “we saw everyone we wanted to. tiny’s friends were really cool too— oh, guess what?” 

your mom leans forward, “what?” 

“i met a guy.”

you tune them out as you crack an egg over the heated pan, grateful yeosang took over the conversation. vivi watches you and yunho, her chin still in her palms, you had mere centimeters between yourself and the boy you slept next to. the thought brings heat to your cheeks and you crack the egg a little too hard, some of the shell falling into the pan. 

“teens,” vivi whines, “it’s the first egg and you already fucked it up.” 

“she’s gotta warm up,” yunho waves a hand in your sister’s direction, “let her cook.” 

you fight a smile, tightening your lips as your eyes lead to vivi’s. she rolls hers in annoyance, “if i taste one shell in my eggs i’m suing you.” 

“suing me?” you say a little louder, the nerve. “you’re so dramatic, make your own damn eggs.” 

“yun, where did you sleep last night?” san asks from across the island, sat next to yeosang at the island. he’s leaned over the granite, cheek in his palm, looking half asleep. “your bed was basically untouched when we woke up.”

your eyes widen and your head snaps up to look at yunho, who’s quick to answer. “on the couch.” 

your mom directs her attention to yunho, her head turning to squint in his direction. before san could get a word out, she interrupts, “i was down here at five and you weren’t on the couch.” 

yunho’s eyes look at you for a split second before he sighs in defeat, he was too tired to lie his way out of this. you held your breath as he said, “i slept in tiny’s bed.” 

the entire kitchen snapped to look at you and yunho with something between shock and confusion. too similar to a sitcom, all four of them in the same tone asked, “what?” 

yunho shrugs, and as if he’s done it a million times before and it was no big deal, he says, “i was scared she’d get sick again.” 

yeosang lifts a single eyebrow, “i think we should put a pin in this conversation until ace gets home.” 

simultaneously, vivi lets out a loud chuckle as she says, “you got sick?! at a music festival?”

you scoff, “yes, i got sick— and what’s ace gonna do?” 

vivi has a wicked smile on her face as she mumbles under her breath, “that’s so embarrassing…”

“i just feel like he should be here for the discussion of tiny and yunho sleeping together,” yeosang says and then turns to san, “don’t you think?” 

san is staring at the two of you, still in complete surprise. you feel like maybe everyone is overreacting just a bit. yunho had taken over cooking the eggs long ago, you planted your hands on the counter beneath you and stared down your two friends. “first of all, don’t say it like that, you guys act like we’ve all never slept beside each other before. do you not remember all of our slumber parties in the basement? you only took over the guest room like, a year or two ago.” 

“that’s different,” san counters, “that's all of us together.” he turns to yeosang, a grin growing on his cheeks, “i wonder what ace will say.” 

you shake your head with a look of disgust on your face, then you turn to look up to yunho, “why are you so quiet? defend my honor here.” 

yunho shrugs like he doesn't care at all, “they’ll stop once there’s food in front of them.” his nonchalance was going to be the death of you. 

“yuyu, when will the food be ready?” vivi’s cheek is in her elbow now, laying on the countertop as if she’d fall asleep within minutes. “i’m so hungry i'm going to die.” 

“i told you already,” you snap, “make your own damn eggs.” 

vivi picks her head up, pointing her gaze at you, “you aren’t even doing anything! yunho’s cooking the eggs and the bacon!” 

“vivi,” your mom warns from the kitchen table, she stands up and makes her way towards the island. “be nice to tiny or else yunho won’t give you any of the food he made.” 

you look up to your mom who was wearing the craziest smirk. vivi snaps her neck, “what does that have to do with anything?” 

your mom doesn’t answer, she simply shoots yunho a wink before walking back to the living room. she yells over her shoulder, “make sure you clean up!” 

you slowly turn to look up at yunho, giving him a questioning look and mumble under your breath, “that was weird.” 

“whatever, let’s eat,” he brushes you off, putting eggs and bacon onto plates. “damn, we should’ve made toast.”

“wait, i can do that!” you exclaim, whipping around your kitchen to grab the toaster from another cabinet and a loaf of bread from the pantry. this was easy— you couldn’t mess up toast. you steal a piece of bacon from the serving plate, keeping it hanging out of your mouth as you put bread in the toaster, turning it on. 

you hear the front door open and everyone’s head turns. ace’s groggy voice calls from the foyer, “i’m home!” 

“we’re in here,” you call back, eyes back on the toaster, awaiting your toast to pop from the silver appliance. 

ace and reia make their way into the kitchen and yunho is back behind the stove, heating the pan once again, “you guys hungry?” 

“yes, please,” reia smiles, standing around the island. ace kisses her cheek before moving around the countertop, stealing a piece of bacon from san’s plate and eating half the strip in a singular bite. 

the toaster pops and you pull out two slices of bread, throwing them down at the two boys at the end of the island. you pop in two new pieces of bread and push down on the lever, then ask your twin and his girlfriend, “how was your weekend?” 

“so good,” reia gushes, leaning onto the counter now, her elbows on the granite. “we had a gorgeous cabin, a hot tub on the balcony, it even snowed.”

“damn, how far away were you?” san asked, biting into a piece of bacon, his mouth already full. “it wasn’t even close to cold enough for snow here.”

“like three hours away,” ace answers, “long ass drive, it only flurried, didn’t stick or anything. how was the music festival?”

“don’t even ask,” you put a hand up, “save me the embarrassment, i beg you.”

ace smiles, “did you at least get to see jungle?” 

“yes!” you exclaim, the thought bringing a smile to your face that matched his exactly. “it was incredible.” 

“wanna know something?” yeosang turned to ace, a cocky smile on his face, only turning to you for a split second to smirk before he brought his attention back to ace. your twin nodded, mindlessly chewing on a piece of vivi’s bacon that he’d stolen while she was checking her phone. “tiny and yunho slept together last night.” 

“gross,” ace grimaced, then looked up to yunho, eyebrows raised in a way you couldn’t place, unusual for the person you shared DNA with. 

“finally,” reia answered simultaneously, a smile spreading across her face. the kitchen went silent, six heads staring up at reia, all wearing different expressions. you didn’t have time to read every one before you were doing damage control.

“finally?” you ask, eyebrows twisted in confusion, face wearing something between shock and disgust. you whined, “why’d you say it like that, yeo? we slept next to each other.” 

reia’s posture shrank, her lips pursing, she quickly looked away from you and to ace instead, probably for him to do his own damage control for what she just said. you put your hands on your hips, “you’ve never been silent once in your lives, speak. what do you mean by "finally?” 

reia stumbles over her words and ace cuts her off with a nonchalance he’s been practicing for twenty years, “finally as in you’ve been looking for a boyfriend for almost six weeks now, and we all know yunho’s a keeper.” 

yeosang and san nod in agreement, san even using his thumb to point in ace’s direction with a mouth full of eggs. you scoff, “if i was that desperate, i’d just bring yeosang.” 

yeosang fist pumps the air, “i’m special.”

“definitely special,” you mumble under your breath as more toast pops from the toaster, and you keep a piece for yourself before handing out the other. 

“are you gonna call mingyu today?” san asks from the end of the island and your head snaps up, staring at him in surprise. you must’ve said something about it last night. 

“why the hell would she do that?” ace asks, upper lip lifted in disapproval. “don’t do that.” 

“she talked about it last night,” san shrugs, “she was crying in the car like, ‘i miss him, jisung was nothing like him.’ i was just wondering.”

ace sucks a breath in and your face flushes, out of embarrassment and guilt towards jisung. you hoped he didn’t know how you felt, you had a great time with him, he didn’t deserve to feel a fraction of sadness because of you. 

“moment of weakness,” was your answer, reality seeming to wash over you again. that’s right, that was your whole intention behind yesterday– getting drunk, forgetting about mingyu, getting better. except what happened was the exact opposite. “no, i won’t call him.” 

“good,” yunho answered with a heavy hand on your shoulder, “no more getting drunk to forget about him, either.” 

you looked up to him with a weak smile, “will do.” 

──────  ꨄ︎

you hadn’t seen any of your girl friends in ages. the last time you went out together was months ago, a weekend at the frats that you barely remembered, time that you barely spent together. you’d brought the boys along that night, you spent half the time getting a handle on them and the other half up in heeseung’s bedroom– you were overdue for a night out, and actually spending it with the girls this time around. 

giselle and julie, two girls you’d met your freshman year of college, you were in the same pre-rec classes. you got together well, but you were never super close– you had your hands full with your boys, maybe that was your fault. to make matters worse, maybe vivi had a point when she said the only girls you hangout with are your cousins, you had to prove her wrong, the sixteen year old can not and will never be correct. 

sat around a table at a bar near campus, the two girls were talking your ear off, asking you for a list of life updates. julie’s smile reached ear to ear as she sipped her fruity drink, “there has to be a guy, it’s been months!”

“there’s been,” you lifted your hand, counting on your fingers– hyunjin, chan, mingyu, jisung… “four guys, actually.” 

“what?” they exclaim simultaneously. giselle continues, “four? and we heard about none of them?” 

she’s right– and to think a few weeks ago you ached to talk to a girl who didn’t know anything about mingyu, an unbiased opinion, to hear you out. you had two girls sitting right in front of you that you could have talked to the entire time, could have spilled every detail and every emotion to. you physically relaxed, shoulders dropping, your jaw unclenched. you missed them. 

“the first one was hyunjin,” you began, and the entire story unraveled. you told them everything– you didn’t need to hold anything back. from the lie you told to your cousins to the age gap between you and mingyu to almost falling off of jisung’s shoulders– they heard every detail. 

“so, hyunjin was an asshole, chan is still your friend, mingyu is the love of your life, jisung was a rebound situation,” giselle pondered after you finished, twirling her straw in her drink. “who the hell even are you?”

“what happened to our baby who barely looks at anyone other than heeseung?” julie teases, and giselle giggles at her question. 

“heeseung was never anything serious and you two know that better than anyone,” you shake your head, “he just wanted to fuck, and i just wanted to fuck him.” 

“i always thought there was more there,” giselle counters with a shrug, “i can’t believe yunho slept with you.” 

“and the way–” julie forces a repulsed shake throughout her entire body, “–ace’s girlfriend said finally? what the hell does that mean?” 

“you need to get over that, jules,” giselle comments, “he’s literally her brother.” 

“every time i look at her i’m reminded of him, it’s not my fault!” julie puts her hands up in defense then brings her eyes to you, “back to the real problem here, please, yunho and the word ‘finally’?” 

“i agree, the finally thing was weird, but ace said it was just because yunho’s a keeper and if it came down to him being my boyfriend– oh.” 

“oh?” the two girls ask. 

“that motherfucker was lying,” you gasp, looking at them with wide eyes. “that finally totally meant something else.” 

“in what way?” julie asks. 

“in a they’re rooting for you and yunho kind of way?” giselle leans closer, holding her glass between both hands. “he is hot, and he’s tall as fuck. what school does he go to again?” 

you cringe, “ew, ew ew ew, i can’t think about him that way. before all of this, ace even suggested that i choose yunho, san or yeosang, but i think he was just saying it so i’d get our cousins off my back– i don’t think he realized that i actually wanted a boyfriend out of this. maybe i didn’t either when i first did all of this.” 

“so ace is rooting for you and yunho and reia’s heard all about it,” julie says in a matter-of-fact kind of way, like she’s putting together puzzle pieces. 

“plus, vivi was being a bitch to me the other morning when we were making breakfast and my mom said that yunho wouldn’t give her any food if she was mean to me,” you raise your eyebrows, as if you were putting together puzzle pieces now, too. 

“so ace and your mom are rooting for yunho,” giselle gasps, then her and julie share a look. 

you bring your surfside up to your lips as giselle asks, “well, how has yunho been during this whole dating situation? has he been supportive?” 

you tilt your head, “at first, i mean, he drove me to my date with hyunjin, but once mingyu came around it was like a total 180– he was not happy about mingyu. then he was supportive again with jisung.”

“mingyu seems to be the only one that would’ve really worked,” giselle lifts her brows, sitting back in her chair. “i’m realizing things that i’m not sure should be realized.” 

you bring a palm to your forehead, sighing. “we should get drunk.” 

“hammered,” julie agrees, setting her now empty glass down in front of you, giselle following suit. 

“i’ll get us another round,” you say and hop up from your chair, taking a deep breath. 

this is all too much– you have never looked at yunho like that in your life, not even when you were in high school and in your horny phase, with a crush on anything that walked and had a heartbeat. you’d be damned if you talked yourself into it now, not even knowing if yunho felt the same way. it made sense, but it made so much sense that you felt that it had to be planned, set up– made to convince you. you weren’t sure if you were even making sense at this point– all you knew was that you and yunho would never happen. 

you were going to drive yourself insane. 

as you made your way up to the bar, it was busier than when you got here. familiar faces surrounded you, being so close to campus, but none that you’d actually say hello to. you found one spot open as if it was meant for you to take, and you stood with your upper half slightly leaned over the luster deep oak, hopefully so the bartender would notice you. 

the bartender… you knew him from somewhere. dark as onyx, straight hair that touched his strong looking shoulders, a slender figure, sharp jaw and curved nose that was nothing short of stunning– is he really just a bartender with a face like that? you really hoped he’d notice you, and not just for drinks. you wish you styled your hair neater this morning, applied your makeup with more care, you didn’t think you’d be scouting tonight on top of getting drinks with friends. 

“what can i get for you?” he asked, flashing you a blinding white smile, a set of perfect teeth on his perfect face. his eyes were as dark as his hair, skin a deep golden, almost reflective with the heat he was no doubt feeling behind the busy bar. 

you stuttered as you told him your drink orders for the table, internally smacking yourself for the mishap. as he cracked your can, you watched his fingers grip the bar key with practiced movements– it triggered your memory. you lifted a brow, “by chance, were you working the music festival across the city this past weekend?” 

“i was, yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, handing three drinks to you. “here you go.” 

“thank you, i knew i recognized you from somewhere,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a smile, “funny you work so close to my campus.” 

“campus? should i be ID’ing you again?” he wore a lazy smirk, standing with his weight shifted onto his right leg. 

“no, i’m a senior,” you waved your hand, “no need.” 

“tab?” he asks, already making his way back to the computer. 

“han,” you call after him, “han julie, i think it’s under.” 

internally you slam your fist against the bar… han julie is so close to han jisung. you set it up with chan earlier today in class to meet with jisung tomorrow, you needed to get your jacket back, but you also needed to tell jisung it wasn’t going to work out– if he even thought it would after you left in such a mortifying way. impending doom loomed over you.

seonghwa shoots you a thumbs up without looking back at you and you scurry back to the table with heat on your cheeks. as you sit down, you immediately spill, “that bartender worked the music festival last weekend, isn’t he hot?” 

“seonghwa?” julie pops a brow, “he’s been working here since before we started coming here.” 

“i’ve never been here, i had no idea,” you answer, immediately taking a sip from your can. 

“as regulars of this establishment, we still know absolutely nothing about him,” giselle says with her lips pursed, making you giggle. she continues, “the other bartender though, belle? we know all the drama,” she smirks.

“there’s bartender drama?” you question, getting more comfortable in your seat. the music is louder now as people start to file in, for a wednesday you didn’t think it’d get busy– you supposed in a college town any night was like a friday. 

“of course there’s bartender drama– you see that guy over there? shaggy brown hair, red shirt, big lips, super cute,” julie points to the end of the bar, “that’s jake, they’re hooking up, have been for a few months now. see the guy next to him?” you nod and julie giggles, “sunghoon, also hooking up with belle. they’re friends, have no idea they’re both sleeping with her.”

you gasp, “how do you pull off something like that?” 

“belle is a bitch,” giselle shrugs, “neither of them get special treatment. easy.” 

a hand comes over your mouth as you laugh harder, “how do you know that?” 

“see that other guy sitting at the table over there? yellow beanie, hoodie, jeans. that’s jungwon, he knows everything, is friends with both of them, but doesn’t tell them. he told us, though,” julie laughs and giselle high fives her, both of them erupting into a fit of giggles. 

“you were not kidding about being regulars here,” you say through a breath, “aren’t they in the same frat as heeseung?” 

“yes,” julie nods, “but hee never comes here, don’t worry.”

“i’m not worried,” you shake your head, “i am curious about seonghwa, though. you guys really know nothing about him?” 

julie leans into the table, leaning her chin on her palm, “he’s more closed off, doesn’t fraternize with the girls who throw themselves at him. keeps to himself, doesn’t get into the usual local bar drama.” 

you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating. he’s gorgeous, not one for drama, keeps to himself… you could get behind that, put all your worries behind you– how is the question. 

“don’t tell me you’re thinking of making him,” giselle pauses, counting on her fingers like you had earlier, “man number five.” 

“why not?” you say with a smile, “he might fix me.”

“girl, you don’t need to be fixed,” julie counters, “investigate the yunho situation.” 

“i will be forgetting the yunho situation from here on out, actually,” you say, then take a sip of your surfside. an idea comes to mind, and with a wicked smile on your face, you ask the two girls, “does anyone want a shot?” 

“jesus, who even are you anymore?” giselle asks jokingly, a smile growing on her face. she points her index finger in the air, “yes to the shot, though.”

her question sits with you as you walk back to the bar– you supposed you were different now, after all of this, experience changes a person. you should’ve kept in closer contact with them, kept them up to date on your life– you wondered if they’d like chan’s friends, too… 

“you’re back,” seonghwa says as soon as your ribs hit the bar, perfect teeth hidden by a tight smile of plump pink lips, “something wrong?” 

“not at all,” your cheeks flush, for some reason you can’t scrounge up a hint of confidence with him. he’s intimidating, not at all soft, or open– even if you wanted to crack that wall he put up, you couldn’t find it in you to try. “can i get three shots of tito’s?” 

seonghwa nods and grabs a bottle of ketel one from beneath him, then lays out three shot glasses. your brows furrow– did he hear you correctly?

“um, i’m sorry, i meant tito’s–”

“i heard you,” he doesn’t look up as he pours the clear liquid into three glasses, then slides them your way. “on me.” 

you cock your head to the side, it’s like he was feeding you an opportunity. “then can i have another round on me? and an extra for you.” 

his smile grows, “you want to buy me a shot?” 

“if you’ll let me,” you nod, trying hard not to bat your eyelashes at him. you didn’t want to be like the others, one flip of your hair and expecting to get your way– even if that’s what you were used to. if you were going to get him, it needed to be in a way that was appealing to him. a challenge. 

you call the other two girls over, taking your first round of shots with sour faces and deep exhales to get the taste out of your mouths so you can stomach another. seonghwa clinks his shot glass with the three of you, saying cheers as the glasses hit the bar again before you shoot them back. verbal exhales and sour faces again, seonghwa was the only one unaffected– you pulled your card out of your mini purse that was slung over your shoulder, “put the shots on this one, please.” 

“yes ma’am, thank you very much,” he nods, walking over to the computer again. “don’t go anywhere,” he calls after you, and you pause your turn back to the table, staying at the bar instead. the girls shoot you surprised looks over their shoulders as they scurry back off to the table, and you give them the same look back– it couldn’t have been that easy, right?

he returns with your card and two receipts, “you didn’t say leave it open.”

ah– no, not that easy, you’d have to work harder than that. an airy giggle leaves your throat as you pull out your phone’s calculator, and he picks your brain. “what’s so funny?” 

you look up after leaving a hefty tip and signing your name, “nothing, just thought you were keeping me here for another reason.”

he lifts a brow, “another reason, like what?” 

you suck on your bottom lip– it was now or never. “maybe to ask for my number or something, i don’t know.”

a sound of amusement leaves his lips and he looks down for a moment, it hits you right in the gut. you lift a brow as you slip your card back into your purse, “what’s so funny?” 

“i know those two girls, they must’ve told you i don’t fuck around with people who come to the bar, right?” he lifts his eyebrows, using his chin to point in the direction of your two friends who sat back down at your table. 

“they did,” you nod, the alcohol buzzing through you must have made every ounce of confidence return to you as you asked, “did you notice it was my first time here?” 

seonghwa nods. you keep your gaze on him, so straight faced as you answered you couldn’t believe it came from your lips, “then i’ll gladly never return if it means you’ll fuck around with me.” 

his lips curve upward, “that’s a new one. i’ll think about it.” 

you let the smile through as you turn on your heel, you’ll take that– it feels like progress, even if it was his way of getting you away from the bar. when you sat back at the table you kept your body language nonchalant just in case he watched you from behind the bar, he didn’t need to see you squealing to your two friends like a teenager, even if you were fighting for your life to keep your voice down. 

as you put your phone down on the table, you noticed notifications filling your screen– you were quick to unlock it and read. 

👨‍👨‍👦‍👦 (and tiny)

9:34 pm

yeo: helloooo what are we doing yeo: are we doing anything tn??

twin: im w reia

sannie: my boyyyy sannie: back in shawty’s good graces

yunho: thanks to me

twin: i’d like to think i had a hand in it as well idk

yeo: mainly thanks to yunho tho yeo: he’ll prolly plan ur engagement

you giggle to yourself, and type back. 

you: nah that's prob where i come in you: im at the bar by campus w giselle and julie you: im free after if someone wanna shcoop me

yeo: oh bruh ur drinking again  yeo: on a WEDNESDAY

sannie: no crying or getting sick this time pls

you: no im being casual and normal tn you: bouta get my claws on someone new you: imagine me laughing all evil rn

yeo: oop

sannie: oh

you: wish me luck ladies !!!

yunho: good luck be safe yunho: let us know when to pick you up

you loved the message and put your phone down, then shake it off as ease rushes over you. if yunho was seriously into you, he wouldn’t have interacted with that message at all. 

“who was that?” julie asks, sipping from her straw. 

“the boys,” you say with a wave of your hand, “they asked what we’re doing tonight.” 

“did you tell them to come here?” julie’s face lights up, eyes bright and eyebrows high, hope clear in her expression. 

“ace is with reia, sorry jules,” you frown, shaking the liquid around in your can. she immediately pouts. “they’ll pick me up later.” 

you look out onto the small dance floor where people have already begun occupying the space, dancing along to whatever pop song played through the speakers. with warmth flooding through you from the shots, the idea seemed almost appealing. you popped a brow as you looked at your two friends, who were already following your idea. 

you follow behind a head of pink hair as the head of black hair leads the way, the three of you falling into a triangle in the middle of the tiny dance floor. the group of you are all giggles and shitty dance moves, more swaying your hips than anything, heads thrown back in laughter and more than a drop of liquor fallen to the ground. it reminded you of the frats, being covered in a sheen of sweat in a dark living room, red solo cups in everyone's hands, the room so loud and hot it didn't take long before it started spinning. for a moment, you forgot why you stopped going– you almost missed it. 

“this makes me miss ENA,” you pout as you look at the other two girls, “are they still throwing?” 

“i don’t think they’ll ever stop throwing,” julie laughs, sipping her drink, swaying her hips. she stops dead in her tracks to give you a look, “does this mean you want to go?” 

“you haven’t stepped foot into ENA since you and heeseung…” giselle turns her head slightly as she stares you down, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“i know, i know,” you shake your head, “i don’t know, all that talk about the members tonight just has me thinking about it, i guess, and i haven’t seen you guys since our last night there.” you look over their heads, jake and sunghoon still sat at the bar then to jungwon in the corner, you let out a sarcastic laugh. “unity my ass.”

“i’m not against it,” julie shakes her head, “i’ve had my eye on sunghoon for a minute, i’ll make him forget all about belle.” 

you throw your head back in laughter, “we’ll go soon, then.” 

when you make it back to your table, your surfside wasn’t quenching your thirst in the way you needed it to. your legs were tired, you had loads of homework to do tomorrow, plus you missed your bed. before you sat down, you said, “i’m gonna go get water, then i think i’m gonna have the boys come get me.” 

“boo,” julie frowns, throwing a thumbs down in your direction. you smile, you did that same exact thing to yunho at the music festival. 

“i’m sorry,” you say in the same tone, “i’m tired.” 

you scurry off to the bar and seonghwa was even quicker to approach you this time. “more shots?”

“water, actually,” you nod, putting your elbow onto the bar, propping your chin on your palm. 

“dancing got you all tired out, huh?” he smirks as he scoops glass into a cup, pouring water from the soda gun. 

“you were watching?” you quirked a brow, taking the cup from his hand, muttering a thank you after you took a sip. 

“it might’ve caught my eye,” he shrugs, “you leaving?” 

“hope you enjoyed the show, then,” you smile, and a singular bat of your eyelashes cuts through your defenses. can’t win them all. “yeah, about to get picked up.”

“boyfriend coming to get you?” he asks, and he looks entirely serious when the words leave his lips. your top lip lifts in disgust as your eyebrows furrow. 

“have any of our interactions tonight made it seem like i have a boyfriend?” you bite, words unintentionally sharp. that was a stupid question on his part, even more so when you think of who’s picking you up. 

he simply shrugs and leans his arms against the bar, the muscles in his bare biceps tensing all the way up to his shoulders, pecs pushing against the cotton of his black tank top. you fight to not salivate. “who knows.” 

“i have half a mind to be offended right now,” you stand straight, propping a foot up on the step of the bar. “do you accuse every girl who flirts with you of cheating?” 

“not typically,” his entire demeanor bleeds not giving a fuck, “just can’t imagine a pretty girl like you is single.” 

“oh,” the word is weak as it slips from your lips, cheeks flushing again. “well, i am, and if you have any ideas on changing that i'll be here for another…” you look down to the nonexistent watch on your wrist, “...twenty minutes.” 

he chuckles, a genuine one, and you feel like you’ve won. “i don’t have time to date, if i did, i’d be like belle here.” 

belle passes behind him as he says the words and a brow quirks on her face, but she doesn’t say anything. that wouldn’t have made any sense to you if giselle and julie hadn’t given you the run down. you smile and counter, “i’m flexible.” 

“i’m not,” he says, and then he turns on his heel, giving you one more sentence over his shoulder before helping another patron. “hope to see you again, though.”

you stood dumbfounded for a moment before you were back off to your table, texting the boys to come pick you up immediately. rejection hurts no matter who it is, but to work up to something all night and have it pulled from beneath you is criminal. frustration sits on your face until your boys are outside to pick you up. 

after bidding the two girls goodbye with kisses on their cheeks and leaving a wad of cash on the table to pay for your part of the bill– and then some, probably, you didn’t count– you were in yunho’s car, ranting up a storm as soon as the backseat door snapped shut. 

“i’m not?!” you exclaim, you were sure you looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “that’s ridiculous.”

all three boys are wearing small smiles, amused by your rage. your eye twitches. “what is so fucking funny?”

“it’s wildly entertaining when you don’t get what you want,” san says, trying not to break out in a full laughter. “when it’s anger and not crying, specifically. a crying tiny makes me want to commit the rumbling.”

you pause, looking at san for a moment before your lip lifts upward, you couldn’t hold in the full laughter that erupts from you. after that the entire car is consumed in laughter at san’s statement, and just like that, all your anger is forgotten. what else are these three losers for?

──────  ꨄ︎

thursday had you weak. after getting drunk the previous night plus classes all morning, you were running around campus, under the dark looming cloud of jisung and what you had to do in a few minutes. you guessed you just had to feel him out, maybe he’d take it really casually, hopefully he didn’t even want anything further with you. hopefully he really meant lets just have fun.

on the way to the coffee shop on campus, the one you hung out at with chan not that long ago, you ran every single scenario through your head. what you’d say, what he’d say, if he’d take it well, if he didn’t, you quickly realized you didn’t know jisung very well. getting hammered with someone, sitting on their shoulders and mindlessly making out with them numerous times does not make for getting to know someone well. it was fun, though– until it wasn’t. 

if under different circumstances, that could’ve been one of the best nights of your life, and it very well still might be if this conversation goes well and you can let go of your embarrassment. 

with all intentions of ripping off the bandaid, no time to waste, you rip open the door to the coffee shop and rush inside, your adrenaline quickly fading at the sheer volume inside the coffee shop. or, you should say, lack of volume. 

you weren’t sure if all eyes were on you or if you made that up as you look around, avoidant of all eyes until you see the ones you came here for, chocolate and covered in big, thin frames. a smile spreads across your face as you walk toward the mop of curly hair just sticking out of a booth, slipping in the leather seat across from him. 

“hey,” his smile is shy, nervous. your jacket is folded neatly beside him, two cups of coffee in front of him. “i wasn’t sure what you like, so i got you an iced americano.”

“oh my god, jisung, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say, shaking your head, but the smile hasn’t left your face. “thank you so much.” 

“no problem, i have your jacket, too,” his own smile grows as you take a sip of the coffee, no trace of discontent on your face. “are you feeling better?” 

“so, so much better,” embarrassment creeps up on you, “i’m so sorry for leaving how i did.” 

“it’s totally okay, i hope it wasn’t anything i did?” one side of his face scrunches, and you want to pinch his full cheeks. 

“no!” you exclaim, probably a little too loud. you quiet your voice, “it had nothing to do with you, it was self sabotage, really. i had such a good time with you, i wish it was under different circumstances. i know that doesn’t make sense.” 

“i feel like i kinda put the pieces together,” he purses his lips, fingers wrapping around his coffee cup, and you know that means please explain. 

you sigh, “i’m gonna preface by apologizing, i’m sorry if this is shitty, but it’s true. i was seeing this guy and i ended things with him, but it wasn’t on good terms. i figured getting drunk at a music festival would be my best bet to forget all about it, to make myself feel better, but clearly that wasn’t very smart.” 

jisung lifts a brow, “so the older guy that chan told me you were seeing…”

you cringe, “yeah, that would be him. that wasn’t smart of me, either.” 

jisung nods, “i understand. you knew i was interested in you though, right?” 

“yeah,” you breathe, “chan told me.” 

jisung sits back into the booth, his lips pursed again in thought. you bite your lip in the silence, waiting for him to say something. “hold on, i just want to make sure i’m understanding. you knew i was interested in you, and you came onto me, knowing that your heart was broken already and it wasn’t going anywhere.” 

you deflate, guilt rising in your throat like bile. your head drops forward, “again, jisung i am so sorry, i know it’s so unfair to you. if there’s anything i can do-” 

“i still like you,” he says simply, “which is stupid, but i do. i had a really good time with you on saturday and i thought we clicked really well, was that the alcohol? were you faking? just doing what you had to do to get over some other guy?” 

you stare at him, eyes widening, stumbling over your words. “what- no, jisung, i wasn’t faking it, i did have a really good time with you.” 

“you didn’t even ask chan for my number,” he argues, folding his arms over his chest. “i know i sound like a brat right now, but i genuinely feel kind of played. used, even.” 

“jisung, i thought you at least had a semblance of what was going on… you said let’s just have fun,” your voice was weak, nearly trembling as guilt and embarrassment made a carbonated cocktail in your gut.

“you think i agreed to be a rebound?” he raises his eyebrows and they sit higher than the frames of his glasses. “who in their right mind would agree to that?” 

you let out a breath of defeat. “jisung, i am so sorry, genuinely. you’re right, it was a shitty thing for me to do. if there’s anything i can do to fix it, please tell me.” 

“there’s nothing to do, i’m just sad, yanno?” his mouth stretches to one side, “all of our friends got along, it sounds stupid but i felt like i was looking into the future with just that one night.” 

that had tears welling in your eyes, but you kept them there. for the sake of your pride and not wanting to come off as manipulative– what the hell else could go wrong for you? 

“it doesn’t sound stupid,” you sigh, “and thank you for being so honest with me. i am so, so genuinely sorry for making you feel used and played, that was not my intention. can i tell you something?” 

he nods, then picks up his coffee to take a sip. you clasp your hands together atop the table and take a breath, “the tall one, yunho, told me that i should be twenty two and just live, to do whatever i want because i almost started dating a thirty year old. i was being selfish, the only thing i was thinking about was me and what i wanted, i wasn’t thinking about anyone else.” 

“this isn’t me making excuses, or defending myself in any way, but i haven't been dating for long, like barely six weeks, and i’m trying to navigate the whole idea of it. who i want, what i want, how i should act, what i should do– saturday isn’t how i’d normally act, i’ve never made out with someone i just met that day, i’ve never acted like that in front of so many people. i am so, so sorry you got that side of me, jisung. i am still learning, and i know at my big age that’s something i should know already, but unfortunately it’s not and you got hurt because of it.” 

you take a deep breath, “i know it’s not fair to you, and it’s wrong that i hurt you, i am not making excuses for myself. again i am so sorry, but thank you for telling me, for your honesty. you’re teaching me with this conversation.” 

jisung stares at you for a moment, before his lips twitch upward ever so slightly. “my first impression of you was that you were hot and untouchable, for some reason i feel a lot better after hearing all of that.” 

you stare back in shock, completely taken aback for a moment until a sound of amusement rips from your chest. “what the hell does that mean?” 

jisung giggles, “you’re just like me, you loser.”

“loser?” you gasp, “i am not a loser. go back to being mad at me immediately.” 

he takes another sip from his coffee, “thank you for apologizing, and owning up to all of that. this dating shit is not for the weak, i can understand where you’re coming from. does this mean i get a second shot?” you open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts, laying a hand on your jacket. “before you answer, i can hold this jacket hostage easily.” 

“i’ll make a deal with you,” you smile, “if i get my shit together and learn how to act right, then it’s me who will get a second shot with you. no need to hold my baby hostage.” 

he nods, “i’m not mad at that deal, but only come crawling back if you learned a lesson or two.” 

“maybe even three,” you nod, “are we okay?” 

“more than okay, tiny. next music festival we go to, you’re back on my shoulders again.”

your cheeks flush at the nickname, “no place i’d rather be.” 

after a few more minutes of conversation and an awkward goodbye, you left the coffee shop with an iced americano and your jacket in tow. you pull your phone from your pocket, a few unread messages on the screen, the first one catching your eye. 

4:06 pm unknown: is this who i think it is lol

you raise an eyebrow at the screen as you sip your drink, immediately responding. 

you: um idk you texted me dawg you: who is this

your walk back to the parking lot was slower than usual, your adrenaline was long gone, you were sure the conversation you just had only aided in making you slower. when you sat in the driver's seat of your car, the number still hadn’t responded, so you checked your other messages. 

3:12 pm yeo: want ramen yeo: craving ramen bad rn

you audibly say fuck to an empty car, if you’d gotten to answer just an hour earlier... 

you: YES you: am i too late you: pls tell me u didnt get already

you stare at your phone, waiting on an answer, tapping your foot along the floor of your car. 

yeo: got u spicy miso yeo: and extra egg yeo: u should be home by now

you: i love u soooooo hard you: ill kiss u  you: omw you: han jisung just read me for FILTH

you turned your car on and booked it out of the parking lot, forgetting all about the unknown number that texted you. the drive was quick, jungle playing through your speakers from start to end, your driveway filled with cars belonging to your friends. you saw ace’s closest to the garage, and reia’s parked right beside him– do any of these people ever have class?

“i’m home, give me my ramen immediately,” you say as you walk through the door, kicking your shoes off in the foyer. 

“hi to you too, teens,” matt answers from the living room, and you look up, everyone was sitting on the couches— matt, your mom, yeosang, ace, reia, yunho, san and vivi. 

“jesus christ,” you say, horrified at the literal army staring at you, “didn’t realize i had such an audience, were all of you waiting for little ol’ me?” 

ace snorts, digging his hand into the bag of chips between him and his girlfriend, “we’re watching episodes of america's funniest home videos on youtube.”  

“oh my god, pause it?” you yell, sprinting through the hallway to get your hopefully hot ramen from the kitchen. in all its glory, your ramen was still hot, in the middle of the island in a red to-go container, chopsticks still untouched laid on top of the lid. 

“how was class honey?” your mom asks from the living room as you damn near ripped the chopsticks apart and flung the lid off the top of the bowl.

“class was class,” you answer as you sip your broth, making sure the temperature was just right. you smiled in delight, it's perfect. “got my jacket back, han jisung ripped me a new asshole, though.” 

“what the hell does that mean? who’s han jisung?” your mom asks as you made it to the living room, her expression was nothing short of horrified.

you chuckled at her expression as you neared the couch, “chan’s friend, he basically said i was fucked up and the worst person to ever exist for playing him and using him at the music fest.” 

“what?” san asked, a bewildered expression on his face. “all you did was kiss the guy, that’s an insane accusation.” 

you shrug, facing the couch. “i kinda get it, i didn’t ask for his number or anything, i just kissed him a bunch and let him buy me drinks, then i didn’t speak to him again until i needed my jacket back.” 

you look at the seating arrangements on the couch and blink twice, silently telling the eight of them to make room on the massive sectional. matt interrupts and your shoulders tense, “that doesn’t sound like you, tiny.” 

vivi moved to the end of the chaise and san pivoted to the corner, leaving space between himself and yunho. you ignored the feeling in your stomach as you sat between the two, “how would you know, matt?” 

he sighs as you pull your legs under you, mixing your noodles around in the bowl. “i know you, whether you want to admit it or not, and playing around with some random guy’s feelings doesn’t sound like you at all. what happened to that nice guy? mingi?” 

“mingyu,” you correct him, “he just didn’t work out, and it wasn’t my intention to play with his feelings, i was just taking yunho’s advice.” 

“let’s not throw me under the bus, all i said was that you shouldn’t date a thirty year old because you’re still young and inexperienced,” yunho defends himself from beside you, and you smirk in response because you totally did just throw him under the bus. 

“yunho,” your mom whines, “we liked him, he was great!” 

“yeah, but what if tiny was engaged in six months? at twenty two years old? would we all be team mingyu then?” ace counters, “yunho did teens a favor if you ask me.” 

“no one is asking you,” you grumble, then take a massive bite of your ramen, shoveling it in your mouth. that iced americano did nothing to curb your hunger. 

“tiny, i don’t think you should be dating anymore,” matt shakes his head, speaking in his best parent voice, and you point your gaze at him from across the couch, shooting daggers with a mouth full of ramen. “it’s clearly bringing nothing good to your life, you can tell your cousins that you and your ‘boyfriend’ broke up.” 

“that’s like, the worst thing she could do,” vivi speaks up from the end of the couch, “karina and sakura will have a field day with that information, she’d never hear the end of it.” 

you give vivi an appreciative look the best you could with a mouth full of noodles, you think that’s the first time that’s ever happened. 

“you’re going to end up with irreparable damage done to you, like an STD, or something worse,” matt says, flailing his hands around as he speaks. your irritation grows as if it was being shot directly into your bloodstream.

you finally swallow your noodles, “do you think i’m going around fucking anybody and everybody?” 

“language,” he replies, “no, i don’t. but i think you should be careful—”

“i think you should keep your opinions to yourself,” you bring your bowl down to your lap, licking the broth off your bottom lip. “i’m an adult and i will do what i want with who i want, if i end up with an STD i’ll take my adult self to the doctors with my adult license and my adult car.” 

“with your adult insurance that isn’t mine?” matt counters, his voice raising. “because as much as you think you’re an adult, you’re still a child living under my roof.” 

“oh no,” ace mumbles under his breath, his forehead going into the space between his thumb and index finger. he’s heard this argument before. 

you let out a dry laugh as the heat grows exponentially, “your roof?” your laugh gets louder and your vision turns red, “you still really think it’s your roof? it’s my dad’s roof, my dad’s money that pays for all of this. i’ve seen the checks.” 

your mom scolds you from across the couch with your name, your actual name, and her voice is loud, laced with a tone you only hear when you argue with her husband. “you do not speak to him that way.” 

“why not? it’s not like he’s my fucking father,” you bite back, venom on your tongue. 

“you still speak to him with some fucking respect,” she was always best at giving back what you gave in the first place tenfold, “we were all just fine down here until you got home.” 

you lurch forward, “until i got home? how about until he opened his big mouth? you know what,” you stood up from your spot, bowl of ramen still in hand, “i’ll eat in my room since i’m the problem here. enjoy your show.” 

you stomp up the stairs, steam shooting from your ears. it felt immature, the pang of feeling fucking stupid was the only thing that followed you up the hardwood staircase, not a pair of footsteps came with it. good, you hoped they were all enjoying themselves down there, without you. 

no matter how idiotic it felt to fight with your mother’s husband in a room full of people, you couldn’t help it. something about matt, his incessant need to parent you, to get under your skin, to act like your father when he wasn’t him– it drove you up a wall. nothing else in your life triggered your short fuse, nothing else set you off the way he did. it happened all the time, you couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t fix it, you didn’t want to. 

it didn’t take long eating alone at your desk until your eyes caught the framed picture of your dad, and the cogs in your brain came to a full stop and your anger completely dissipated, replaced with a sadness and an ache only he could fill. 

──────  ꨄ︎

12:07 am unknown: that girl from the bar weds night? unknown: ur friends left ur number on the receipt when they closed out, i assumed u told them to lol

you curse yourself friday morning for not staying up later. 

8:21 am you: ohhh this is seonghwa? you: i did not ask them to do that lmaooo but they're real ones you: hey <3

to your surprise, he’s quick to answer. you blink back exhaustion and yawn, sitting up in your bed– you need full brain power to play the game. 

seonghwa: damn and i actually texted when u didn’t even want it seonghwa: im sick

you: LMFAOOOO you're up early you: didn't stay out late?

seonghwa: nah, working first shift at my other job seonghwa: could say the same about u seonghwa: except u didn’t text me back so im guessing ur well rested

you: omg two jobs a hardworking man! you: i have class so im up early either way 

you didn’t get a text back within a few minutes, so you got up a little earlier and went downstairs to make coffee. it was already brewing on the pot as you reached the kitchen, so you got your mug and oat milk out, ready to pour when the pot allowed you to. 

“you good?” ace asked as he walked into the kitchen, shirtless and in flannel pajama pants, scratching his clearly slept on head. 

you nodded, back pressed against your island, staring at the pot as if it’d make the coffee brew any faster. ace walked to your side, “you don’t have to get so defensive with him, you know.” 

you looked up at him through flattened brows, “fuck off.” 

“i’m serious,” he argues, “he means well, only has your best interest in mind. let him in sometimes.” 

a sarcastic smile plays on your lips, “like i said, fuck off.” 

“alright,” your twin shrugs, “i tried. don’t come crying to me when you’re over this immature bullshit and vivi and i have a relationship with him and you don’t.” 

“it’s too fucking early for this,” you groan, your head falling back. “i don’t need to hear this from you, anyone else is fine, but from you? keep your nose out of it.” 

“okay, tiny,” he shakes his head as the coffee pot dings, letting you know it’s ready. you make your regular cup and head back up to your room, sitting at your vanity with your phone face up. as if on cue, it lights up. 

seonghwa: i keep forgetting ur a student thats crazy seonghwa: with the tip u left me i feel like i owe u something. meanwhile ur a baby

you smile at your screen. 

you: im 22, not a baby you: you don’t owe me anything but if this is your way of saying you wanna see me then i’ll take it

seonghwa: im 26, thought i was gonna have to soft block u

you: that’s a hard block, how do u even know what that is? you're basically prehistoric

seonghwa: prehistoric is craaaaazy

you giggle, at least yeosang’s insult was good for something. you gather all of your products to do your hair and makeup, setting them up in the order of use in front of you.  

you: anyways, about seeing me?

seonghwa: still on the fence seonghwa: still not flexible 

you: only one of us has to be

seonghwa: im free after my shift tonight, but i work early in the morning so i'll be kicking ur ass out early if need be

you: i wont lie, that was easier than i thought it'd be you: give me a time and a place and im there

as you got ready for the day, your body was on fire with excitement, a wide grin on your face. he put up such a front on wednesday— who would’ve guessed how easily you’d tear his walls down?

classes went by with a breeze, you were inching closer to the short but much needed thanksgiving break, then the lengthy winter break when the real fun began. the only looming thought was the closer you get to thanksgiving break, the closer you get to thanksgiving. you, still boyfriendless– you let the thought pass by without rattling your nerves. you’d be getting one step closer tonight. 

seonghwa still hadn’t answered with a time or place after classes ended, even if it was only around three pm, you tried to not let it bother you. were you going to his place? then technically it’s not a date. 

it could be a date– it depends what you’d be doing at his place. you wondered what it looked like. you know he has two jobs, he clearly takes care of himself well, you imagined it looked similar to hyunjin’s apartment. dim, cozy, spacious, decorated well, maybe a bit on the more editorial side of furnishing a place, taking in seonghwa’s overall vibe. 

you began floating again, once more in dreamland, excited to get to know seonghwa. someone new, not in the bubble of people you’ve somehow created, someone on the outside. you didn’t meet him on a date with someone else, he isn’t a friend of a friend, he’s someone fresh, that no one knows. well, except julie and giselle, but for the sake of the moment, they don’t count. you convinced yourself into having high hopes– now he just needed to text you back. 

after class, you busied yourself with homework, even going into next week’s workload– still no text back. you were stumped, and no one else was even home to cure your boredom. you cleaned your room, changed your sheets, did laundry– took an everything shower, ate dinner, you were trying not to lose your mind by the time it hit seven, and still no one was home. 

why is no one in your house when you’re going crazy, but it’s a full house every other damn time?

he said he was working a shift tonight, was that at the bar? was he closing? that meant he might not be off until midnight. you sat on your bed, fully lotioned in your robe, with your index finger pressed to your lips. this was starting to look more and more like a booty call situation, and that was not what you were interested in. you had half a mind to text him first. 

you: i guess not then… 

no, that seemed too desperate. 

you: hello??

what if he thinks you’re clingy already and calls off the whole ordeal? 

you: if you want me to come over just to fuck i can tell u rn im not interested

now you just look flat out insane. you sigh, falling back against your bed, towel flying off of your head with the force you pinned yourself down with. you pulled your phone back up to your face. 

7:48 pm seonghwa: hey sorry i ran late for my other job i didn’t have time to answer seonghwa: im not closing tho so i should be okay for like 9:30?

a shriek leaves your lips and you sit straight up again, thank god you didn’t send any of those messages. you take a deep breath, beckoning your heart rate to slow down before typing out a response. you’d think after going on so many dates you’d be a little more casual… 

you: ur totally fine, are u sure ur not too tired? we can do another night

seonghwa: i don’t have another night unfortunately lol unless you wanna wait another week seonghwa: i get it if that’s too late or whatever

you pop a brow, he doesn’t have another night? what the hell does he do with all of his time, or lack of? 

you: no that’s fine, just lmk when ur off

seonghwa: [location:attached]

you hear the front door open downstairs and roll your eyes, fantastic timing for people to get home. your issue has already been solved. you supposed if he didn’t have any free time, it wasn’t a booty call situation, but really the only time he had to spend with someone else– your curiosity was more than sparked. at least you’d have things to talk about. 

you weren’t on edge getting ready, maybe you were getting more seasoned at this dating thing than you thought. you were grateful for it, though, especially since you assumed you were going to his place, most businesses were closed after nine except bars, you figured it was safe to assume he didn’t want to go to one after just leaving one. 

in the same lounge set you wore to see hyunjin, when seonghwa texted you that he was off his shift you were already ready to go. you assumed your parents were in bed already when you went downstairs, and you could hear the boys yelling from the basement, that meant they were on the game. a part of you ached that you hadn’t seen them since last night, but you brushed it off, you were leaving the house in stealth mode. if they didn’t know, they couldn’t meddle. 

seonghwa didn’t live far from the bar he worked at– which wasn’t far from campus at all. it was a quick drive, and parking was easy in his development. that was a weight lifted off your shoulders. 

the complex was mid-sized, three massive apartment buildings in a straight line. each building had the same makeup from the outside: gray siding, a black patio, two black front doors on either side of a staircase. the cement staircase led up to the next floor, which had two more doors on either side of the platform, and then one or two more floors that repeated. you’d never been here before– you wondered if you knew anyone else that lived in the complex, maybe someone that went to your school. 

seonghwa opened his front door before you made it up the cement walkway, a small smile on his face, “you were quick, i literally just walked in the door.”

your cheeks flush as you walk through the threshold into his apartment, “i’m a fast driver.”

“you look put together,” he says as you make your way in, and you whip your head around to look at him, not exactly sure how to take the comment, but his back was to you. 

“is that a compliment, or?” you trail off, slipping your boots off your feet. he let out a noise of amusement through his nose as he closed the door behind you, but he didn’t answer your question. 

“sorry, i had my siblings this week, they just went back to my mom this morning,” he ran a hand through his hair as he walked past you, “excuse the mess.” 

“not at all,” you looked around– the mattress from his bed was on his living room floor, if you could call it a living room, blankets and pillows thrown everywhere. “your place is adorable, it’s homey.”

it was also the last thing you expected from his place– far from hyunjin’s, far from anything you imagined. 

“i brought home food from the bar before the kitchen closed, if you’re hungry at all,” you followed him to his table that was just outside of the kitchen, the only place that was enclosed by a wall beside his bathroom, “it’s just chicken tenders and fries, there’s drinks in the fridge.  i’m gonna go take a shower.” 

he didn’t even look back at you before he slipped into the bathroom that was off the side of the kitchen, the only actual room in the whole place. you took a breath and pulled out a chair, cringing as it scratched against the light hardwood floor, cringing even more as it creaked when you sat down. before you pulled apart the to-go boxes, you took a moment to really look at seonghwa’s place.

it was clearly a studio apartment– almost a fully open floor plan, which you didn’t think was common for a complex like his. behind you was the kitchen, small but functional, it had a white stove with criminally old burners– you wondered if stoves that old still passed inspection these days– and beyond was a light wood countertop, save for a silver sink stuck directly in the center of the slab of wood. next to the stove was a washing machine which popped an eyebrow from you, you’d never seen one in a kitchen before. above was matching cabinets, one was missing a handle, the other two were a faded brass color. his fridge was small and white, a freezer beneath it, covered in little pieces of paper with drawings in crayon, streaks of red and blue across the pages, held up by alphabet magnets.  

how old were his siblings? 

you almost got out of your seat to look at the radiator, you’d only seen them in movies, it was like you had stepped back in time. the massive windows above the radiators that opened in the middle were breathtaking, you could only imagine cleaning on summer mornings, opening the windows to let fresh air in, music playing throughout the space.

the small table and chairs you were sitting at were placed more towards the common area, or living room you supposed, to tie the areas together. a wall separated the kitchen from the living room, which was openly connected to his bedroom, only a desk between his couch and bed– that didn’t have a mattress on it. 

his mattress was laid out in front of the couch, a mess of pillows and blankets thrown on top, his coffee table moved to the end of his bed. his wardrobe hung on clothing racks against the wall at the end of his bed, with a tv to the right, facing the couch. 

everything was so condensed into such a small space, you wondered how the hell he lived like this. you were positive you couldn’t even fit all the contents of your bedroom into a space this small. there was closet space directly next to the front door, and you wondered what he kept in there if all of his own clothes were out on display– a pit in your stomach grew, you felt bad for him. 

you unpackaged the to-go containers from the plastic bag, laying them out side by side, one box for chicken tenders and the other for fries. would it be rude if you checked his fridge for ketchup? 

you bit into a fry, feeling a little awkward with the only sound in the whole place coming from the bathroom. the muffled noise of running water should be more comforting than it is, but you couldn’t find any comfort in the situation you were in. you tucked your feet up onto the chair, wrapping one arm around your knees, the other grabbing another fry from the container. 

after what feels like hours, you hear the squeak of the knob until the water finally shuts off, and seonghwa walks back out into the open space in nothing but a towel tied around his waist. you tried your best not to gawk, but his body made it impossible– lean and muscular with droplets of water cascading down his skin, you almost felt wrong for looking. 

what made you actually turn your head was when he walked over to his clothing rack and dropped the towel. you gasped, wide eyes focusing on the to-go containers instead, blinking rapidly. he just got fully naked in front of you without saying more than three sentences to you, you think you either got yourself into a weird situation or he was just really comfortable with himself. 

maybe you should’ve told the others where you were going. 

barely a minute went by before he was next to you at the table, black sweatpants hung low on his hips as he sat backwards on the chair beside yours. he bit into a chicken tender, running a hand through his wet hair, shaking it out ever so slightly. 

you blinked at him, wondering if you were invisible. you cleared your throat, “i saw the pictures on your fridge, did your siblings draw them?” 

he shakes his head, face completely serious as he says, “i drew them, what do you mean?” you blink at him twice, honestly believing him before he smiles. “yeah, they drew them for me in school. cute, right?” 

you return the smile, a semblance of warmth returning to your body. “so cute, how old are they?” 

“four and six,” he says, and as if he was beating you to asking the question yourself, he adds, “my mom had me stupid young, had them stupid late.” 

“those are fun ages, though,” you grab another fry, “do they stay with you often?” 

“they are not fun ages, and they’re with me during the week, they see my mom on the weekends,” he shrugs as if that’s normal. your chest aches, you wonder about their situation. 

“oh,” you want to smack yourself across the face– you have so many questions, and all you can muster is oh? at the same time, you’re a little scared to pry, you don’t usually have trouble navigating conversations with anyone, but seonghwa was more than intimidating. you try a different route, “i have two siblings, too, a twin and a younger sister.” 

“you have a twin?” he raises his eyebrows, “is she hot, too?” 

“she is a he,” you correct him, “but if that doesn’t matter, we do look freakishly similar for being fraternal twins, yes.”

“how old is your younger sister?” he asks, grabbing a few fries from the container closer to you. you try not to get distracted by his fingers as they pass you. 

“sixteen, that’s the age that’s not fun. after thirteen, girls are insane until they’re in their twenties,” you joke, stretching one leg back to the floor. 

“girls are still insane in their twenties,” he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, his voice completely flat. “the six year old is a girl, nari, she’s an angel, it’s jun that’s a fucking menace.” 

“a menace?” you giggle, “how so?” 

“look at my living room,” he looks over to the mattress, blankets and pillows strewn about the floor. you cringe. “they usually sleep in my bed and i sleep on the couch, but he insisted we have a sleepover, and didn’t stop scream-crying until i moved the mattress to the living room. that was three nights ago and i still haven’t been able to move it back without him flipping out.” 

“aw,” your heart warms at the thought, you wish vivi wanted to spend time with you, too. your relationship could be so different. “he just wanted to be close to you.” 

“he wants to live inside my skin,” he doesn’t sound happy to say it, but you could see the faint smile on his face. “i’d let him, if i could. they’re growing up too fast.” 

“pretty soon nari will be the one whipping you into shape,” you lean onto the table, resting an elbow on the surface. “my sister does not let me breathe– everything i do is a problem. she makes fun of me for being single, for being lactose intolerant, for being mad at her when she steals my clothes. when i tell her to get off my back, she tells me i need to see a therapist.”

“sounds like typical sibling shit,” he pops a fry in his mouth, “it’s cool that you guys are close in age, though, at least she doesn’t slip up and call you mom.”

the ache in your chest gets worse– you can’t help but pry a little. “they call you dad?” 

“they’re four and six and see their mom eight days out of the month,” he lets out a dry laugh, “we don’t even share a dad and somehow i am their dad. we don’t have to get into it.” 

with that sentence, a part of you wants to get into it. he didn’t mention his dad once, and it could be the one thing you have in common– you keep it in your back pocket, not wanting to push him further. you sit in a beat of silence before you ask, “what’s your other job? you said you work two?” 

“three,” he corrects you, bringing a hand to rub his eyes. he did look tired. “i’m a bartender, an electrician and i pick up shifts at another restaurant downtown on the weekends sometimes.” 

you wonder where his siblings were on wednesday night. “damn,” you say under your breath, “i almost feel bad for being here.”

“don’t be, i invited you,” he shook his head once, “wouldn’t have done that if i didn’t want company. what do you do?” 

god, it felt so wrong to say you didn’t work one job compared to his three. “uh, i’m a student. full time.” 

“ah,” he nods without a single reaction to you being unemployed, “what are you in school for? wait, let me guess.” 

“psych major.”

“no.” 

“communications?”

“no.”

“damn. nursing?” 

“no.”

“damn!” he laughs, and the sound is music to your ears. finally, some emotion. “i’m stumped.”

“education,” you laugh with him, “i want to be an elementary school teacher.” 

“is there a story involved as to why you want to teach? or you just like kids?” he finishes off the plate of fries, looking at you like he was fully interested in what you had to say. it helps ease more of the tension you weren’t sure was one sided.

“no story, i just like kids,” you nod, and cross one leg over the other. “i’ll start student-teaching soon, so maybe i’ll see jun or nari in my classes.” 

“i’ll tell them to bully the fuck outta you,” he gets up from his chair, closing the to-go containers and stacking them on the table, a smile on his face. “tell junie to do all of this to your classroom.”

“none of my business as long as i’m student teaching,” you counter, “i’ll encourage him behind the real teacher’s back. maybe even give him new ways to make forts in your living room.” 

“speaking of my living room,” he says as he walks toward the mattress, stopping just before it with his hands on his hips, looking over his shoulder at you. “should i move it back? or should we ignore it and sit on the couch like it’s not even there?” 

“we could always lay on it,” you offer, “i’m not too old for a sleepover if you’re not.” 

he smiles, then without answering, bends down to sort out the blankets. you get up from your spot at the table and pad over the hardwood floor to where he stood, helping him lay out the blankets a little nicer– even if you’d ruin them by getting onto the bed, anyways. it scratched an itch you didn’t realize needed scratching. 

as you get comfortable on the bed, sitting at the top so your backs are leaned up against his couch, you ask, “why did you invite me over, anyways?” 

he looks at you inquisitively, an eyebrow raised as if he didn’t understand your question. you rephrase, “you said you don’t hook up with people from the bar, i’m wondering why you said yes to me.” 

he faces forward, thinking about it for a moment before he answers. “if i’m being honest, it was circumstantial. you texted me this morning, and i was in the mood to say yes.” 

your jaw drops, “i feel like i should take offense to that.”

he shrugs, “if you want to, go ahead. i don’t hook up with people from the bar because all it does is create drama, and my hands are full enough as it is. i haven’t seen you there before, and i have a feeling i won’t see you there again, and somehow your number ended up in my possession, so… here you are.”

you blink up at him, you don’t think you’ve ever spoken to anyone so blunt, so careless as him– no, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that his priorities are elsewhere. women and relationships are not at the forefront of his mind, it’s his siblings– his family. the ache in your chest gets heavier. 

“your silence is freaking me out,” he interrupts your thoughts, “don’t think i just invited you over here to fuck you, i don’t care about that. it was really your persistence, and not the dimwitted kind of persistence that fawns over me and how i present myself– sorry if that sounds cocky.”

your smile grows as he speaks, but he shows no signs of stopping, “this sounds corny, but i have a lot of shit in my life, and for some reason i feel like you might… understand some of it, i guess. there’s a look on your face that tells me you aren’t just how you present yourself.”

you tilt your head, curious about his analysis of you, “what does how i present myself tell you about me?” 

“rich girl,” he says, adjusting himself so he’s facing you, his arm laid over the couch behind you both, “pretty, pretentious rich girl like every other girl at that bar who’s never had to work a day in her life. daddy’s money is my guess.” 

you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “you’re not entirely wrong.” 

you can’t read his expression, his eyes are pointed in a way that makes you think he can see through you. “but that can’t be all there is, you might walk around with your tiny purse and matching outfit and perfect hair, there has to be something else. something wrong.”

you cock your head to the side, “you think there’s something wrong with me?”

he smacks his lips, “poor verbiage. not something wrong, but you aren’t like the others who fling themselves over the bar in hopes that i’ll look in their direction, then curse me out when i don’t– i could definitely see you throwing a fit if something doesn’t go your way, which is half the reason i initially shut you down, by the way– but i have a hard time believing that your life has been all flowers and rainbows.” 

“ah,” you nod in understanding, “i get what you mean. so you invited me over to unpack all of my trauma and confirm that your theory is true?” 

seonghwa smiles from ear to ear, head rocking forward with a hearty laugh, you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. you continue, “i mean, no one’s life is all flowers and rainbows, everyone has their own shit they’ve had to work through. how can you tell all of that about me from meeting me one time?” 

“i work with the public,” he says as if it's self explanatory, “i meet a lot of people, especially being a bartender, i hear a lot of shit, and i’ve learned what shit looks like on different people. i remember you from the music festival, too– you were with that brown haired boy and you looked fucking miserable despite smiling and giggling with him like a teenager.” 

that takes you by surprise, your smile fades quick and your eyes widen under his gaze, but he holds it. “you were pretending to be happy, for your sake or his, i’m not sure.”

you gulp. “a little bit of both, probably,” you shift uncomfortably despite being on a literal mattress, feeling more seen than you were comfortable with. it seemed like he had a superpower, or maybe a curse, being able to read people so well– to see deeper than what others want you to see. 

“so, to answer your question,” he rests his head against his hand that was propped up by the couch, “the idea of you understanding me and my life is what intrigued me, and a fateful series of events caused me to say yes to seeing you again.” 

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, seonghwa may be twenty six but you think this has to be his eighth or ninth life on this earth just from his wisdom. you’ve never had anyone read you so fast, so clearly– be so blunt and honest without being hurtful. 

“you could’ve just said you thought i was really pretty, you know,” you joke, and he laughs again, then pats around the bed in search of something.

“there’s that pretentious rich girl coming through,” he jokes back, his voice light and airy, but that edge returns as he pats the mattress down a little harder, “fuck, i can’t find the remote.” 

“i don’t mind just talking,” you reach out to put a hand over his, and he physically relaxes, shoulders drooping, looking at you through black strands of hair that have fallen over his face. it made the shadows of his face deepen, the color of his eyes look somehow darker, he looked younger– different. 

“i’m used to background noise,” he shakes his head, then slips his hand out from under you to run it through his hair. “the quiet is so… quiet.” 

“is quiet okay?” you tilt your head, bringing your hand back into your lap. always having to entertain, feed and bathe two little kids on top of working three jobs was sure to be exhausting, you wondered how much quiet he actually got to experience. 

he nods, “yeah, quiet’s more than okay.” you couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face, how soft he looked in that moment with his hair half dried, eyes a little more hooded than they were before. you wonder how often he has people over his apartment, if he ever gets the chance to just talk, or let his frustrations out.

in that moment, you felt like you could understand him, at least a little more than before— he wore a hard exterior, made himself out to be a tough shell to crack, but it was in protection, preservation for what matters to him most. it made you look inward. you wished you looked at your family differently, you wished you thought of your siblings with more care, you wished at least a part of you sought to protect them at all times, like seonghwa did his own. 

they’re the only other two people in the world that have gone through everything you have, the only two people that could understand that part of you. they didn’t need to understand you fully, not when it came to your relationship problems, or why your room needed to be clean at all times, but what’s at your core? all your pain, all your grief, your loss, the very things that make you who you are? they understood that easily, when no one else could. 

instead of being jealous of vivi, for how young she was when your father passed, you wish you protected her childhood a little more. preserved her innocence, her naïvety, you wished you ushered her toward welcoming another father figure in her life instead of keeping her away. it’s a privilege, a strength, not everyone gets a second one, not everyone gets a first. ace had always been better at seeing the bigger picture than you.

you lay down on the mattress, sinking under the blankets, letting your head rest on the yellow pillowcase. “tell me more about your siblings.” 

seonghwa looks down at you, eyes full, heavy, shaped like the moon— he didn’t hesitate in telling you everything about them. their favorite colors, their favorite subjects in school, little stories about them growing up. his entire face lit up when he said their names, he told you funny stories about hectic mornings getting ready for school, a scary one about the one time his grandma forgot to pick them up from the bus stop. it was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, especially when you realized how little he spoke of his mother. eventually he moved down on the mattress, laying beside you on his back, only his head turned toward you in conversation, so comfortable on the topic he got physically comfortable, too.

“can i ask you a personal question?” you asked, both hands under your cheek, body turned on its side. it was cozy between you two, laying here, talking like this. sharing personal stories with someone you’d just met was never your cup of tea, but with seonghwa, you haven’t talked about anything other than personal topics.

“only if i get to ask you one in return,” he replies, and you shoot him a lazy smile— you could’ve bet money on that answer. 

“deal, but you don’t have to answer. why do you have them during the week, and your mom on the weekends?” 

he sighs, turning his head straight, looking up at his ceiling. the lights in his apartment were dim, cascading a faint yellow over his skin, over his living room. he didn’t seem hesitant to answer, instead choosing his words carefully. “it’s not court ordered, it’s our own kind of system, i guess.” 

“i was twenty when she had nari, she was thirty six. i was twenty two when she had jun, and she was thirty eight. after she had jun, their dad fled, just like mine did right after she had me.” 

you took a breath, heat rushing to your face. you knew it’d be personal, maybe hard to talk about, you didn’t expect him to share it so openly, without hesitation. 

“she was sixteen when she had me, so my entire upbringing was a little fucked up— i was like her friend growing up more than i was her son, my grandma raised me for the better half of my life. she was a wreck after he fled, we couldn’t reach him, couldn’t find him, she couldn’t believe it had happened again. she fell into a pretty deep depression, especially postpartum, and i didn’t trust her with the kids, nor did my grandma,” he used his hands as he spoke, but he didn’t look at you. he kept his face upward, staring at the ceiling, but he kept going. 

“my grandma and i took shifts, she watched them while i was at school, at work, then i came home and took over— that’s kinda the system we still have to this day. when i moved out and brought them here, my mom actually started to get better. she’s medicated now, more stable, but she’s not really the same, and i’m not sure she ever will be… so they ended up being my responsibility. i think they might always be,” he finally looked over to you, he didn’t look uncomfortable. he didn’t look sad or angry, but instead content, like everything that happened in his life was for a purpose. “i trust her enough now to have them on the weekends, and she’s never fought me on the ordeal. i couldn’t imagine my life any differently, it’s hard, but i wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

you didn’t realize there were tears in your eyes, let alone falling down your face until seonghwa hopped up on one elbow, his other arm swinging over to wipe a tear off of your cheek. “don’t cry for me.” 

“i’m sorry, i can’t help it,” you sniff, hands coming up to rub beneath your eyes. “just not what i expected.” 

“yeah?” he teased, “did you think i was just some hot bartender who invited you over to fuck your brains out? instead i’m sitting here talking about my sob story of a life?” 

you laughed through the tears, “kinda.” you both fell into laughter, but he stayed propped up on one elbow. “i’m happy that i asked, and thank you for sharing that with me. you’re incredible, i wouldn’t be able to handle half of what you do.” 

“i’m sure you do a fine job for your hot brother and annoying sister,” his voice was still light and teasing, his hand coming back to brush a hair out of your face. 

“ace has all of the strength, he’s the one who’s always looked out for me and vivi. i’m the coward,” you admit, shaking your head. 

“it’s my turn,” he says, and you don’t give him an answer. instead, you hold your breath, a small part of you was nervous for what he’d ask. “if you could go back in time and change anything, what would you change?” 

without missing a beat, you said, “i’d stop my dad from leaving the house the morning he passed.” 

“i knew it,” seonghwa said excitedly from beside you as if he had cracked the code, “i wasn’t expecting you to also be fatherless, but i knew there was something.” 

you couldn’t stop the snort before it happened, a fit of giggles taking over you so hard you fully turned over on the mattress. “fatherless—” you said through a laugh, “—is terrible!”

“well, am i wrong?” he was laughing too, small chuckles that he couldn’t contain, either. 

“no,” you turn back over, shaking your head, breaths of giggles still pushing through your words. “i do have a step dad, but i don’t like him.” 

“why not?” seonghwa asks, and instead of being propped up on one elbow, he shifts so he’s lying on his arm, his palm holding his head up, still on his side. 

you sigh, “he wants to be my dad. he’s been with my mom since i was thirteen-ish, my dad died when i was twelve. i guess i got it in my head when i was little that he was trying to replace him, and i haven’t gotten myself out of it.” 

seonghwa makes a face, one that doesn’t look pleased with your answer. “you realize how fucking stupid that sounds, right?” 

“you don’t know him,” you bark in defense, “he drives me insane. he always has something to say— about what i do, who i date, where i go, what i wear, what i’m eating? it’s ridiculous.” 

“sounds like he’s trying to be a father,” he deadpans, but his tone wasn’t malicious. “isn’t that what he signed up for? when he married a widow of three kids?” 

“i never wanted another father,” your voice was quieter now. you’ve heard all these words before, but they sounded different coming from him, from someone who doesn’t have half of what you do. 

“but you’re lucky to have another father figure, and it sounds like he’s still trying to be one after almost ten years of you pushing him away. take it from someone who’s dad never gave a fuck about him, if he wants to be in your life, you should let him,” he says, his voice harsh, but you can hear the truth in his tone. 

it's different from when your mom says it, different from when vivi or ace says it, too. taking seonghwa’s situation into account, he’s had it harder than you have— his father left, abandoned him and now he’s trying to be a father figure to kids that aren’t his own, without having had that parental figure in his life. with no one to learn from, and with much less resources than you have at hand. his advice holds heavier weight. 

“be grateful for what you do have,” he adds, his voice softer now, likely from reading your expression which you don’t doubt has gone completely sour. “your mom, your siblings, your stepdad, the privilege you have to live your rich pretentious girl life. don’t take anything for granted, trust me.” 

“i don’t know how to stop,” your voice was near a whisper now, “hating him— being this way, pushing him out, it’s all i’ve ever done, all i've ever known.” 

“what do you mean, you don’t know how to stop?” he lifts an eyebrow, “that’s an excuse. what do you do when you argue with your friends, and then you make up? you go back to normal, like nothing happened.” 

the thought of going back to normal with matt— normal is this, the fighting, the yelling, the insults, the wedge you stuck into your relationship almost ten years ago. you think about the night you asked him about whiskey, when you were excited to show off your skills to mingyu. how excited he was to show you his collection, to teach you all of his knowledge on whiskey, he probably thought that was a bonding moment for the two of you. did you even thank him for it? have you ever thanked him for anything, once in your life?

“if ace is the strong one and you’re the coward, then lean on him, let him be your strength.” he moves another piece of hair out of your face, trailing the back of his knuckles against your cheek. “sorry if i’m overstepping, i wasn’t planning on giving you a therapy session tonight. i couldn’t help it.” 

“no,” you shake your head, then bring your hand up to grab onto his, the one that was just against your face, holding it there. “you didn’t overstep, your advice— your perspective on it, all of it, i appreciate it a lot. thank you.” 

he smiles, it was tight lipped, but it was genuine. “i charge one hundred an hour for my sessions, by the way.” 

you let go of his hand, throwing it towards his chest with a laugh. “way to ruin the fucking moment, hwa.” 

“hey, i wouldn’t get anywhere in life if i handed out freebies to the rich, would i?” 

“and when you say i have daddy’s money, did it occur to you that it was dead daddy’s money all along?” 

“don’t matter to me as long as the bills are blue, baby.” 

the two of you exploded into laughter again, it was comforting sharing your dark humor with him, even more comforting that he shot it right back at you. you’d made plenty of dark jokes in your life which usually met with weird stares or awkward chuckles— but with him, the flow was different, it was raw and real. if you let yourself think about it for too long, it might even scare you how easy it felt with him. 

to know barely anything about one another and immediately jump into heavy conversation, to talk about such deep, dark things… that isn’t a connection you make easily. maybe seonghwa really did see something in you on wednesday, and if it was a fateful series of events that brought you to his bed today, maybe you should start praying more often so the gods would share more of their luck with you. 

you lay there for a minute longer after your laughing had subsided, remembering that the two of you were in an empty apartment, on a bed, and this is what the two of you had decided to do with your friday night. trauma and therapy. you supposed there wasn’t a proper time to get horny from the moment you walked in the door. 

you let out a huff of amusement through your nose at the thought and seonghwa turns his head to you, you missed when he moved to lay on his back again. “what’s funny?” he asks, a smile still playing on his lips— there was humor in the air, if you weren’t careful you’d both catch the giggles again. 

“you know the deepest shit about me and you haven’t even kissed me yet,” you turned your head to face him, your grin still stretched from ear to ear. 

“wanna know what else is funny?” he asks, and you nod. “you know the deepest shit about me, and you don’t even know my last name.” 

you think about it for a second, you don’t know his last name— but you can’t claim defeat so easily. “do you even know my first name?” 

he smacks his lips, looking at you as if you were insane. “do you think i’m a fucking monster?” you raised your eyebrows, unimpressed, because you never told him. “it was on the receipt from the bar, you paid with your card.” 

“you paid attention?” you ask, surprised. 

he smirks, then says your full name, and then starts reciting your entire credit card number from memory. 

you gasp, shooting up from your spot on the bed, sitting straight up. “seonghwa! that has to be illegal or something, how do you remember that?” 

he sits up too, shrugging, his demeanor turning cocky, “i have a good memory. what’s my last name, baby?” 

with that one question, with that name, the energy of the room shifted. you stay silent, keeping your lips pursed— you didn’t want him to know he was right. his smirk grows, head tilting to the side, his arms stretching behind him. you watch the muscles in his abdomen flex and curve, how the muscles in his shoulders became more defined with the movement. 

“come on, you wanna kiss me, don’t you?” his tone was taunting, inflection dipping and rising just to egg you on further, “work for it.” 

your eyes flickered to his mouth as he spoke, those devastatingly pink lips— “is this going to be another tease about making me work for something, for once in my life?” 

his smile grows, “you know me so well.” he uses his arms stretched behind him to haul himself to the top of the bed again, his back hitting the end of the couch as a makeshift headboard, then looks over to you, head tilted in thought. “i’m surprised you’re not running for the hills.” 

“why would i be?” your eyebrows furrow, expression clearly confused. “thought you scared me off?” 

he shrugs, as if to say maybe a little. you shake your head with a reassuring smile, “it takes more than a sad story to freak me out, seonghwa.” 

his head dips back, body shimmying down so he could rest it on the cushions of the couch, jughular on full display to you. you nearly lick your lips. he thinks out loud, “i can’t tell you the last time i had someone here.” 

your eyes widen— surprised at the realization he isn’t hooking up with people weekly, even more surprised at the sheer honesty. you crawl up next to him, wanting to touch him in some way, scared to make the first move. 

“is it still okay that i am?” you wonder, reality looming above you again, it wasn’t just you that had the option to run for the hills. as much as he shared with you, you shared with him, as shallow as your issues seemed compared to his own. you shared a similar darkness, but his reality was still much different than yours. 

he lifts his head back up, face inches from yours and you hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten. his features are so sharp, it makes the simplest gaze in your direction feel intense. you don’t shrink under his eyes, instead you stare back with a question in your own, awaiting his answer— patiently. 

“if you left right now, i’d be more disappointed than i’m willing to admit.” 

you smile, eyes drifting down to his lips again, then back up to his eyes. you wanted to feel his lips on yours, you wanted him, whatever he’d give you, you’d take greedily. your voice was quieter now, huskier, a blanket of lust making it sound velvety when you replied, “i’m not going anywhere.” 

he leans in, a faint ghost of a smirk on his lips, his entire attitude changing. “figured out my last name yet?” 

“if i say no?” you reply, playing into the game he had started with you, holding his gaze with his mouth centimeters from yours. you could feel his breath hot on your lips, god you wanted to close the distance, you needed it after all you’d just shared with each other. 

“i’ll have you spelling it out for me before i’m done with you,” you might’ve moaned at his words if he didn’t take your lips with his own after he said it. 

sweet yet heavy, seonghwa kissed you like he’d been waiting hours to do it. he had you on flat on your back with no time to waste, your head hitting the yellow pillowcase once more, the pink blanket you had covered yourself with still between your bodies. you arched up into him, hands immediately roaming his skin, feeling every dip and curve of muscle on his abdomen, his chest, his shoulders. you were panting into the kiss before you knew it, legs trapped beneath the blanket, beneath the weight of his body, you were more than eager. 

his mouth moved to your jaw, placing hot, wet kisses along the skin before his tongue trailed along the bone from your chin to your ear. you let out a noise you knew you’d be embarrassed about later, abdomen clenching as your hands fled for his hair– it all happened so fast, your brain was fogged over before you knew it, a cloud of sheer lust and an adoration for him sweeping you under. 

he ripped the blanket from between you with a grunt of frustration, throwing it to the side, likely onto the hardwood floor beside the mattress. his hands finally touched you and you all but melted into him, whimpers and mewls leaving your throat as his fingers danced over the space between your top and pants, body reacting far too much when you weren’t doing anything yet. 

“here i thought i was touch starved,” he teased, lips right under your ear, he had just finished harshly sucking a spot into your skin. “listen to you, making all those pretty noises for me.” 

“shut up,” you say through a breath, your eyes closed, head digging into the pillow beneath you. your legs hooked over his back, desperate for friction, for anything. “just touch me.”

“is that any way to ask for what you want?” he pulls back, arms holding him up, he looked so good above you. with that question, you knew all too well what game seonghwa liked to play, what made him tick. luckily for the both of you, you were into it too. he smirks, “as much as i love how desperate you are for me, you didn’t even say please.” 

you whine, but quickly reel it in– you know this game, you’ve played this game before. “i’m sorry,” you quickly gushed out, “please touch me, seonghwa.” 

“seonghwa, what?” his tongue peeks out of his lips, his smirk turning devilish. you could feel your panties dampen at the action. “what’s my last name, baby?” 

you take a deep breath, words coming out like a moan, “i don’t know.” 

he chuckles, it sounded saccharine. his head dipped down again, taking your lips between his, letting the weight of his hips crash into you. you moaned at the contact, hips immediately hooking around his, your core grinding up into him. 

you weren’t expecting him to moan too. a fire set ablaze from your head all the way down to your toes, every inch of your skin burning. so mindless, guttural, like he needed release just as much as you did– it pulled you under even deeper. 

“let me taste you,” you mumbled into his lips, and his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, messy and hot and nasty. “please, let me? wanna suck your cock.”

his head fell into the crook of your neck with a groan, stilling himself for a moment before he flipped you both over. sitting with his back against the couch again, he looked down at you through flattened brows, his expression not here nor there. he was just as gone as you were. 

he lifted his hips for you to pull his sweatpants down, just far enough for his cock to spring up, slapping its heavy weight against his stomach. your mouth filled with saliva, you could feel your eyes glaze over– long, veiny, not too thick– an angry red tip with precum smeared around the top half of him… if you opened your mouth, you’d drool. 

“so hot, fuck,” you mumble under your breath, sitting between his legs, then dip your head down to spit the contents of your mouth over his length. you spread it over the length of him, slow strokes with a heavy hand, seonghwa keeled. 

abdomen clenching already, his head dipped forward with a long groan, right from his chest. a smile spreads across your face at how sensitive he was– “you want me to take care of you, baby?” 

he looks up to you with wide eyes before his eyebrows furrow, your words sending him into a whole different headspace. “come on, don’t be shy, tell me what you want.” 

you didn’t know where your words were coming from, you weren’t usually the person doing the dirty talking. as his eyebrows knitted further together and his jaw went slack, you felt an edge, almost a high from how your words made him react– this was new, but you loved the power it gave you. it was too easy to switch roles with him.

you squeezed the base of him, “words, hwa. speak.” 

“fuck,” he moaned under his breath, “want your mouth on me, please, make me cum.”

“there you go baby,” you smiled, and your hand began stroking him again. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he only moans in response as your head dips down, licking his tip once, twice, three times before taking him into your mouth fully. 

his hand flies to your hair, gripping it right at the root, and you couldn’t stop the moan from leaving your lips. he kept you there, at the base of him, with your nose touching the patch of hair on his skin, his limbs locking up– you wondered if he was trying not to cum. 

he definitely needed this more than you did. 

when he let your hair go, you popped off of him with a quick intake of air, catching your breath for just a second before taking him in your mouth again. you kept your hand at the base of him while you worked his tip, tongue swirling along the underside, lips sucking harshly around the width of him. he was mewling, small tuts of air leaving his lips accompanied by other noises of pleasure, all which made you want to please him further. 

you finally worked into a rhythm, hands moving at the same pace as your mouth, twisting and sucking, the only noises audible were the wet squelches of your mouth and the moans he couldn’t stop feeding you. 

“fuck– ngh, gonna cum, wait,” but you didn’t listen, no, he needed this. if he was going to fuck you the way you wanted him to, he needed this first. your hand gripped him harder, mouth working him faster until he was spilling down your throat, releasing a long, languid groan that you were sure had you soaked through your pants.

his head fell back again as you popped off of his length, after swallowing every drop of him and licking him clean. he let out a long exhale, “that was borderline demonic.” 

you let a noise of amusement slip past your lips, “seemed like you needed it.” 

“more than you know,” he replied, then picked his head back up, looking you up and down. “you’re still wearing clothes?”

“someone forgot to take them off,” you tease, crawling onto his lap.

you attach your lips to his again and he takes them greedily, quick to slip his tongue between your lips, probably tasting himself on your own. he breaks the kiss, but your eyes stay shut, his voice is deep and husky again as he says, “i’m supposed to putting you in your place, ruin that pretty little display you put on for me.”

you remember what he said earlier– you look put together. you smirk, “we still have all night,” back arching into him, your arms going around his neck. he tucks his legs beneath him and flips you over, putting your heads at the foot of the bed, your legs hung over his thighs as he bends down to keep his lips attached to yours. 

his hands travel up your waist, slipping beneath your top, hands coming up to cup your chest over your bra. you release a sigh of contentment into his mouth as his lips move to your jaw again, breaking away as his fingers come down to the hem of your top to pull it over your head. your top meets the pink blanket on the floor somewhere as seonghwa’s eyes widen at the black lace adorning your chest, his hands coming up to grab, pinch, squeeze. 

you whimper, hips bucking up into his own, silently begging him for more. “i love this,” he comments, tugging on one of your straps, and you gasp as it snaps back against your shoulder. “almost wanna leave it on.” 

“get the full picture first,” you whisper, and he’s quick to understand– leaning back so he can tug your pants down your legs, groaning when he’s met with a matching thong. his jaw goes slack again as his hands run up your thighs and you push them apart, back arching up involuntarily. 

“please,” you beg, barely above a whisper, laid out almost completely bare for him. he looks up to you and his eyes look impossibly darker, onyx eyes reflecting nothing, you were both far past gone. 

he slips his middle finger beneath the lace and pulls the fabric to the side, then lets out a whistle when he sees just how wet you were for him. “you’re soaked, baby, want me that bad?” 

“you shouldn’t be talking, based on how fast you just came down my throat,” you bit back, hips twitching as you felt the cool air of his apartment breeze over your center. 

“watch it,” he warns, “don’t forget i choose whether or not you cum.” 

you smirk because the threat feels empty with the way his eyes haven’t left your core, how his face is growing closer, you were sure he didn’t even realize he was moving. enjoying the fight for power, you push him a little, “if you can make me cum.”

his eyes flash up to you, that darkness laid within them showed a whole different purpose. he raised his eyebrows, “if i can make you?” 

you nod, smirk still wide across your cheeks, and the smile that grew on his face was wicked. he laid flat on his stomach immediately, not bothering to take your panties off before his tongue was diving straight into your center. you choked out a moan, hips grinding into his mouth, grateful  yet still begging for more. 

“yes, yes,” the word was a chant on your tongue as he licked up and down your folds, lips sucking around your clit, tongue massaging circles into the nerves. his mouth followed your hips as your hands dug into his roots, hips twitching and bucking into his face, back arching off of the mattress. 

oh, there was no discussion about whether or not seonghwa could make you cum, it was about when. with how fast you made him cum, he wasn’t too far behind you in time, tongue making easy work of your core. you felt the heat build, the muscles in your abdomen tighten, clenching as you could feel your orgasm growing. 

seonghwa ate you as if he hadn’t tasted pussy in years. it was messy yet precise, his tongue made a rhythm that was perfect for you– your moans grew higher in pitch as you let the feeling in your core build, build, build– 

at the peak of your orgasm, when you just began to feel euphoria wash over you he pulls away, ripping the high away from you, leaving you empty, untouched. you shrieked, gasps leaving your lips as your hand flies to your center, “no! please, no, no no.” 

he caught your wrist, letting it ride through you, the utter incomplete feeling of your orgasm being ruined. he still wore that same wicked smile, “if i can make you cum, right?”

you stumbled over your words, stuttering as he smiled down at you, “that– i- why did you– no one’s ever–”

“pretty rich girl, always gets what she wants,” he teases in a sing-song tone, and the words begin to feel cold. it makes your head even fuzzier, the clarity and shift in power you felt when you made seonghwa cum in your mouth was gone. his index finger trails up and down your folds and you twitch, gasps leaving your lips as remnants of an orgasm you didn’t get to fully feel rack through your body. 

back into submission, where you were comfortable being, where you enjoyed being– that’s where seonghwa brought you to. you wondered if he liked you or hated you until his index finger slipped inside you, curling upward, sliding across that spot that had you keeling again. 

“fuck,” you cried as he began to pump his fingers, your hands coming up to squeeze your chest, pinching your nipples over your bra. you missed the way he took a quick intake of air at the sight, you were a vision to him, so beautiful and so eager for him, he could bring you to orgasm over and over all night. 

he added another finger, continuously curling them against that one spot, hooking them there and pumping them into you. your neck craned forward to look at him and he could see it all over your face, that you were close, that you were hiding it from him– or trying to, so he wouldn’t take this one away. 

as you were about to reach your peak, he slipped them out of you, and you let out a prolonged whine of frustration. seonghwa couldn’t help his smile, even after all this time he still had it. 

“seonghwa please let me cum,” you begged as he slipped your panties down your legs, but he ignored you. he reached behind you, unclasping your bra with one hand, throwing the matching set wherever the rest of your clothes were. you were incessant, your voice strained, weak as you begged further, “please, i need it, i’ll be good. please.”

“i told you i’d ruin you, baby,” he barely looked at you as he slipped off his sweatpants, grabbing the condom he stored in the pocket earlier. he ripped it open with his perfect teeth, slipping it over his hard length with ease, “you ready for the other thing i told you?” 

your face was red, splotchy, your eyes glassy and not all the way there, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his heart warmed at the sight.

“park,” was all he said, and you swore you were trying to make sense of his words, too overstimulated without any stimulation. he slipped inside you, met with no resistance as you both moaned while he pushed himself all the way to the hilt, the stretch was tantalizing– the size of him was perfect. 

he stayed there for a moment, for you or for himself you didn’t know, but it took him a minute to look back at you again. when he did, he almost came from the sight of you, but he needed to find his resolve– he took your chin in his hand, “my last name. spell it.” 

“what?” you questioned, you were too cloudy for this– he was balls deep inside you, and he wanted you to spell? 

“my last name is park, spell it.” he used the same tone on you as you used when you told him to speak– it made you dizzy. he pulled out all the way, only the very tip of him poking at your entrance, and naturally you obeyed. 

“P.”

your voice was weak as he pushed all the way in, softly this time, his cock curving perfectly upward. 

“A.” 

you basically whined the letter as he thrusted into you a little harder, thank god it was only four letters. 

“R.” 

your head flew back into the mattress, eyes screwed tight as reality set in that his cock might be anatomically perfect. 

“K!” 

you screamed it, you couldn’t help it, the strength behind his thrust had you seeing stars. 

“goob job, smart girl,” he gushed as he worked himself into a rhythm, letting his hands come forward to cradle your cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your skin. you released babbles of utter nonsense as he picked up his pace, pistoling his hips into you. 

“‘m not gonna last,” he huffed, eyes falling shut above you, and tears filled your waterline. you needed to cum. 

you reached a hand down to your center carefully, and to your surprise, he let you– you worked quick circles over your clit, your breath getting caught in your throat, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over. 

“yes, gonna cum,” you moaned out, thighs spreading impossibly wider, fingers moving quicker on your clit. it didn’t take long before you felt on the brink of your orgasm, the tears at your waterline spilling over your cheeks. 

“cum with me,” he breathed, dipping down to attach your lips again, all teeth and spit. the reprieve you felt as your orgasm crash over you was blinding, and seonghwa wasn’t far behind, hips stilling inside you just as you started to ride it out. he pumped you both through it slowly, with nothing but heavy breaths in the air and your skin pressed against his. 

you laid in silence for a few minutes, breathing into each other’s skin, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests as seonghwa laid on top of you. you finally broke the silence, “do not ever do that to me again.” 

he let out a deep chuckle, exhaustion clear in his voice, “don’t taunt me and i won’t have to.” 

he finally rolled off of you, keeping you close to his side, you cuddled up against his hot skin as the cool air of his apartment danced over the both of you. “i haven’t had sex in a long time, i know i didn’t last long. i owe you.”

“you don’t owe me shit,” you said groggily, your eyes closed with your cheek pressed to his chest. “if you wanna fuck again i’m game, but never apologize for that. i enjoyed myself thoroughly.”

he got up much to your dismay, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash in his kitchen, returning with a water bottle that he opened before handing it to you. “at least let me make you cum properly.”

“how can i say no to that?” you give him a toothy grin, then take a sip from the water bottle. “i know you’re tired, though, we can literally just go to sleep, hwa.” “we’ll go to sleep after,” he bends down on the mattress, planting a kiss on your knee, all exhaustion that was in his voice moments ago was gone. “i want to make the most out of tonight. don’t think we aren’t talking again before bed, either. ooh, maybe we can order takeout from that twenty four hour spot by the campus, too?”

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric @unicornwhisperer666

[noir-lullaby]

The Spotlight is Ours Pt. 1

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Summary: Two rising Black British stars in Hollywood. One fateful night at the NAACP Image Awards. When actress Sienna Sinclair presents the award for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Series, the winner is none other than Aaron Pierre. The chemistry is instant, the banter is effortless, and the connection? Dangerous. But in an industry where everyone is watching, some things are better left unsaid… or are they?

🔸 Warnings: Heavy flirtation, mutual pining, and the start of something messy. 🔸 Author’s Note: Welcome to the beginning of a very questionable love story.

The NAACP Image Awards were in full swing, a night dedicated to celebrating Black excellence in entertainment. The grandeur of the Pasadena Civic Auditorium was amplified by the shimmering gold and deep purple stage design, and the room was alive with applause, camera flashes, and the palpable energy of some of the biggest names in Hollywood.

Seated among the nominees, Aaron Pierre adjusted the cuffs of his custom black tuxedo, keeping his expression cool despite the slight thrum of anticipation in his chest. He had been nominated for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Television Series, Special, or Movie for his role in Rebel Ridge, a project that had tested his limits as an actor and elevated his career. Winning would be monumental, but he wasn’t the type to get ahead of himself.

As he sat waiting, his attention flickered to the stage where the next presenter was being introduced.

“Please welcome, the incredibly talented, Sienna Sinclair!”

Aaron’s brows lifted slightly as he watched Sienna Sinclair glide onto the stage, radiating effortless grace and confidence. He had heard of her, of course—the Oscar-winning British actress whose career had skyrocketed after her powerful performance in a historical drama. He had seen her on magazine covers, watched her interviews in passing, but seeing her in real life was… different.

Dressed in a form-fitting, midnight-blue gown, she exuded a kind of cool, magnetic energy. And then she spoke—her London accent cutting through the air, smooth yet commanding.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get to it,” she said, flashing a teasing smile as she opened the envelope. “The nominees for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Television Series, Special, or Movie are…”

Aaron barely heard the rest of the list. His focus was on her, the way she carried herself, how her presence seemed to pull attention like gravity.

Then—

“…and the NAACP Image Award goes to—” She paused, drawing out the suspense, her dark eyes flickering toward the camera with playful mischief.

“Aaron Pierre, for Rebel Ridge!”

The crowd erupted into applause.

Aaron blinked once before allowing a slow, satisfied smile to spread across his face. He stood, adjusting his suit with ease before making his way toward the stage, dap-ups and handshakes following him on the way.

When he reached the podium, he took the award from Sienna's hands, and for a brief moment, their fingers brushed. It was subtle, fleeting, but enough to make Aaron glance up and fully take her in.

Up close, she was even more stunning.

“Congratulations,” Sienna murmured, her voice just low enough for him to hear.

“Appreciate it,” Aaron replied smoothly, his deep voice wrapping around the word in a way that made Sienna’s lips twitch slightly.

Aaron turned toward the microphone, delivering a speech that was humble, thoughtful, and reflective of his journey. He spoke about the importance of storytelling, about the shared experiences of Black British and African-American actors carving out spaces in Hollywood, about how recognition like this was both an honor and a responsibility.

“I didn’t get here alone,” he finished, his rich voice sending a hush over the room. “To every young Black actor watching, to every kid dreaming beyond what they’ve been told is possible—we are the blueprint. And the best is still yet to come.”

Thunderous applause.

Sienna clapped alongside the audience before leaning into the mic. “And on top of all that… he’s also Mufasa.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Aaron exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

Sienna smirked at him. “Had to.”

Aaron gave her a look—amused, but also intrigued. “We’ll talk about this backstage.”

Sienna tilted her head, watching him as he walked off. “Looking forward to it.”

--

The post-win chaos was already unfolding backstage—cameras flashing, journalists waiting for quotes, production assistants ushering talent from one place to another. Aaron had barely had time to process the moment when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Well, well, look at you, Mr. Award Winner.”

Aaron turned.

Sienna Sinclair stood there, arms crossed, watching him with a smirk.

Aaron couldn’t help but let his gaze linger for half a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

Sienna shrugged. “Had to personally congratulate you. You know, since I had the honor of saying your name on stage.”

Aaron nodded, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “You did say it well. Very elegant.”

Sienna raised an eyebrow. “I do everything elegantly.”

Aaron exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Not doubting it.”

She tilted her head slightly. “So… how does it feel? Winning?”

Aaron glanced down at the trophy in his hand before looking back at her. “Feels good. But I won’t lie—hearing my name come out of your mouth might’ve been the highlight of the night.”

Sienna sucked her teeth, shaking her head, though there was something in her expression—something that said she wasn’t entirely unaffected by him.

“You’re full of it,” she teased.

Aaron leaned in slightly. “Am I?”

Sienna, ever the quick-witted one, smirked. “Yeah. And I can’t believe you let me call you out in front of everyone like that.”

Aaron shook his head. “The Mufasa jingle?”

Miracle nodded. “You knew I had to bring it up.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes playfully. “You enjoyed that way too much.”

“I did,” she admitted, her smirk widening. “And let’s be real, you love it. Don’t lie, you’ve sung it to yourself at least once.”

Aaron rubbed his jaw, his expression unreadable. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

Sienna laughed, tilting her head. “It’s alright, Aaron. Aaron Pierre, that’s Mufasa—it’s got a nice ring to it.”

Aaron exhaled a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, it’s unfair how much pleasure you’re getting out of this.”

“Oh, trust me, I could get pleasure out of a lot more than that.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly, the air between them shifting from playful to something heavier.

Sienna’s eyes held his, dark and teasing. “But I’ll let you enjoy your win first.”

Aaron huffed a laugh, nodding. “So generous of you.”

She smirked. “You’re welcome.”

The moment stretched just a second longer than necessary—his gaze still locked with hers, her breath just a little deeper.

From across the backstage area, a production assistant called out to Sienna, signaling that she was needed elsewhere.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she took a step back. “Well, Mufasa, I’ll see you around.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, watching as she turned and walked away, her presence lingering even after she disappeared from sight.

“Yeah,” he murmured to himself, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You will.”

[saebyeokbliss]

ONCE MORE TO SEE YOU— PART X.

synopsis: on a cold january day, you were worrying about the reason your girlfriend wasn’t texting back. when she finally does and asks to meet at your apartment, you’re met with heartbreak as she ends your relationship. no explanation. two years later, you run into her at a cafe with someone new. what are you to do?

warnings: grief, mentions of death, financial struggles, emotional distress, mild language

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

The money felt heavier than it should have.

Even though it was safely tucked away in your bag, every time you moved, every time you thought about it, you could feel its presence like a weight pressing down on you. The envelope sat on your kitchen counter for hours after you returned from the diner that night, taunting you, daring you to do something with it.

And eventually, you did.

The next morning, you paid off the rent. Walking into the landlord’s office with a wad of cash felt surreal, almost like you were living someone else’s life. His eyes widened when you handed him the overdue balance along with the next two months in advance, his usual gruff demeanor replaced by something resembling warmth. “Guess you caught a lucky break,” he muttered, scribbling a receipt before waving you off. Lucky wasn’t the word you’d use, but you didn’t bother correcting him.

After that, you tackled your tuition. The woman at the bursar’s office gave you a long, skeptical look when you handed her the money in person, but she processed it without asking questions. Finally, the stack of unpaid hospital bills followed, the last and most painful reminder of your sister’s fight.

By the time it was all done, you were left with only a small amount of the original sum. Enough to get by for the next couple of weeks, but nothing more. Even so, the crushing weight that had been suffocating you for months had finally loosened its grip. For the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe.

But the relief was short-lived.

The grief hadn’t gone anywhere. It lingered in the corners of your mind, heavy and unrelenting, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Losing Veda had left a hole in you that nothing could fill, and though the money had solved your financial problems—for now—it couldn’t fix the emptiness in your chest or the ache in your heart.

You stayed home for a week, a whirlwind of grief and exhaustion keeping you from stepping outside. You hadn’t even called Mrs. Hanuel to explain; you just… disappeared. But when you finally worked up the courage to return to the diner, you learned that Sae-byeok had already covered for you.

“She told me everything,” Mrs. Hanuel said when you arrived that morning, her kind eyes soft with sympathy. “You take all the time you need. We’ll manage.”

You blinked, stunned. Sae-byeok had explained? When had she done that? And why? You shook off the questions for now, thanking Mrs. Hanuel quietly before heading to the break room to change into your uniform.

The moment you stepped onto the diner floor, all eyes turned to you. Minji, Hyejin, and Yuna were huddled near the counter, their whispering stopping abruptly when they saw you. You gave them a weak smile, hoping to avoid any awkward questions, but Minji was already rushing over to you.

“You’re back!” she said, her voice bright but tinged with concern. “Are you okay? We were worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction. “Just… needed some time.”

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on you like she was trying to read between the lines. Before she could press further, Hyejin and Yuna joined her, the three of them forming a small wall of concern around you.

“We missed you,” Yuna said softly. “It’s been different without you here.”

“Different how?” you asked, forcing a small smile. “The place hasn’t burned down, has it?”

“No,” Hyejin said, smirking slightly. “But it’s been… quieter.”

“Quieter?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Because of Sae-byeok,” Minji blurted out, earning a sharp elbow jab from Yuna. “What? It’s true!”

“What about her?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat.

“She’s been acting weird,” Hyejin said, lowering her voice as she glanced toward the break room. “Like… more serious than usual. And that’s saying something.”

“She barely says a word to anyone,” Yuna added, her tone cautious. “Not that she’s ever super chatty, but it’s like… she’s distracted or something.”

“And crankier,” Minji said, her voice dropping to an exaggerated whisper. “Which is terrifying, by the way.”

You frowned, your mind racing. Sae-byeok wasn’t exactly the warmest person to begin with, so hearing that she’d been more withdrawn than usual wasn’t entirely surprising. But the idea that your absence had anything to do with it felt… strange. Why would it?

Before you could ask more, the break room door creaked open, and Sae-byeok stepped out. Her sharp gaze swept over the diner, landing briefly on your small group. Minji, Hyejin, and Yuna immediately scattered, pretending to busy themselves with various tasks, leaving you standing awkwardly by the counter.

Sae-byeok’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she jerked her head toward the break room. “Come with me.”

Your stomach twisted as you followed her, the atmosphere between you thick and uncomfortable. You hadn’t spoken to her since the night she gave you the money, and you had no idea what to expect. Was she angry? Annoyed? You couldn’t tell.

The moment the door closed behind you, Sae-byeok turned to face you, her arms crossed over her chest. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, her dark eyes searching your face like she was trying to piece something together.

“How are you?” she asked finally, her voice quieter than you expected.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “I… I’m fine,” you said weakly, though you knew it wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie,” she said bluntly, her gaze unwavering. “How are you really?”

The weight of her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt your composure start to crack. You looked away, your hands trembling slightly as you clenched them into fists. “I don’t know,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Veda’s gone, and it’s like… everything else just stopped mattering.”

Sae-byeok didn’t respond right away, but when she finally spoke, her tone was softer than you’d ever heard it. “It doesn’t stop mattering,” she said quietly. “It just… hurts less. Eventually.”

You looked up at her, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in her voice. For once, her expression wasn’t cold or distant—it was… understanding. Like she knew exactly what you were going through.

And maybe she did.

For a moment, the break room felt like it wasn’t part of the diner. The usual clatter of dishes and muffled conversations outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint hum of the fluorescent light above. Sae-byeok stood in front of you, her arms still crossed, her dark eyes watching you carefully as if she was trying to figure out the right thing to say.

You hated that she could see right through you. The vulnerability bubbling to the surface felt foreign, uncomfortable, like you were standing in front of her without armor.

“I don’t know how to move on,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling. “Everything feels… empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore. And I know I should be grateful for the money, for the chance to catch up on everything, but it just—it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. Veda’s gone, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

Your voice cracked on her name, and you bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. You’d cried enough in the past week. You didn’t want to cry now, not here, not in front of Sae-byeok.

But then she did something unexpected. She stepped closer, her hands dropping to her sides as she stood just a few inches away from you. Her presence was steady, grounding, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like you were falling apart.

“You did everything you could,” she said softly, her voice low but firm. “Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control. That’ll kill you faster than anything else.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected, and you blinked up at her, surprised by how much weight they carried. There was something in her tone—an edge of bitterness, like she was speaking from experience.

“I just…” You shook your head, your voice breaking. “I feel so alone.”

“You’re not,” she said, her voice steady. “Not anymore.”

You looked up at her again, and for a moment, you saw something in her eyes that you hadn’t seen before—a flicker of softness, of vulnerability, hidden beneath her usual cold exterior. It wasn’t pity or sympathy; it was something else.

“I’ll be here,” she said, her tone quieter now. “For as long as you need me.”

It wasn’t a grand declaration, and her words weren’t laced with warmth or sentimentality. But they were honest. And coming from her, that meant more than anything else.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak, and she gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod in return. Then, without another word, she turned and left the break room, slipping back into her usual role as if nothing had happened.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe. Sae-byeok’s words stayed with you, grounding you as you moved from table to table, cleaning up after customers and taking orders.

Your coworkers didn’t push you with questions or comments, which you appreciated. It was like they understood that you needed space, though you caught Minji throwing you a few curious glances throughout the day. Sae-byeok, on the other hand, was her usual self—quiet, focused, and distant. If anyone else noticed the subtle shift in her demeanor, they didn’t say anything.

By the time your shift ended, you felt a strange sense of normalcy returning. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep you moving forward.

The diner emptied out slowly, the last of the customers leaving just before midnight. You stayed behind to clean, scrubbing down the counters and wiping the tables until the place was spotless. Everyone else had already left, and the silence of the diner felt comforting rather than suffocating.

You grabbed your bag and headed out through the back door, the cold night air hitting you as you stepped into the alley. The streetlights cast long, uneven shadows across the pavement, and for a moment, the stillness of the night felt peaceful.

But then you heard it—a low, familiar voice that sent a chill down your spine.

“Well, well. Look who we have here.”

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest as you turned toward the source of the voice. Deok-su stepped out of the shadows, his hulking frame blocking the only exit to the alley. His expression was twisted into a sneer, his eyes narrowing as they flicked over you.

“Where’s Kang?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ve got some unfinished business with her.”

Your blood ran cold, your mind racing as you tried to figure out what to do. He took a step closer, his presence suffocating, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you were trapped.

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