#like despite telling a story that’s been told three times before

[dragonsareawesome123]

The Color Purple being the one musical movie within the past few years to actually be successful at the box office is SO well deserved. It’s such an incredible movie that I really really really want to watch again!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[twooftheluckyones]

Cult of the Lamb fancomic: Luck of the Lamb

Part 1: Give Unto Me A Name

To say the name of the gods is to knock against the doors of their divinity. Such that they held their true names closely, for the call could surpass all barriers. Exchanging true names became a sign of partnership, trust, and perhaps even in some cases, union…

~Next~ ~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

"-and boil for eternity!" Narinder boomed, laughing to himself as he imagined Heket locked in a cauldron of oil. Chains tightened against his arms from his motions, and his laughter withered like a sail with no wind. He bowed his head and was quiet for a long moment, looking the Lamb in the eyes. "Return to your cult. Shamura is the last to hold me. Drive a knife in their heart, and at last I will be free... Go now. Please." He pointed towards the stone to teleport back, mind a mixture of rage, gloom, and loneliness. She nodded, excited by his sheer energy and power. But before she left she had a question. "...I have one request," she paused, hands wriggling in a sudden flash of anxiety. Shamura's words echoed in her mind, one burning like a forbidden flame. "I was told your name while on my mission, but I wanted your blessing before I dare use it... As your vessel, may I address you by name?" "You ask for so much little lamb," he chided. "Do not press the limits of our affiliation too quickly." He paused, humming thoughtfully, an ear flicking. Perhaps there was something to be gained here. "I will not give you the privilege without something in return." His brow raised, curious. "Tell me your own and you shall have mine." She hadn’t given her name in a very long time. It was hard to even remember it at all. Memories of her 'life' were almost foggy, stretching back hundreds of years from the time she'd spent in his service. From the depths she retrieved it, but more than just her name surfaced. Her father, pinned down with arrows bristling from his chest as he pleaded for her to run. Her mother, grabbing her wrist in a vice grip as they fled. The memory was so distant, yet felt like it had just happened. "Una. My name is Una." Her voice numb, barely a whisper. She blinked, shaking away the past and returned to meet his eyes. "Una..." He tasted her name on his tongue, trying to decipher what it meant. He hadn't been on the surface in hundreds of years, culture was entirely lost. "Very well then, you may refer to me as Narinder. But know that divine names have power. To use them can be a summoning, of sorts. Were you to use my name, I would know it. Your shred of divinity may share that, so guard your name well." Shadow covered his face, nothing but the faint light of three red eyes breaking past its veil. "Not all summons are made with good intentions..." He looked at the chains on his wrists, glaring with hatred. "Narinder," His name had a distinct flavor. Faintly reminiscent of the iron tang of blood, a faint chill lingering beyond the sound. She could feel the magic in it, sparks in her body, tingling and electric. While she knew she would only use his name in conversations with him and him alone, that didn't mean she wouldn't use it in private moments of prayer. Perhaps he would be just a little present in those now. She liked that thought, smiling and blushing despite herself. "Your name will be cherished and protected." "Good. Now Una, go rid this world of my enemies, slowly and horrifically please." He grinned, sharp teeth glistening from ear to ear.

Narinder watched her go, as she turned into an ethereal energy and vanished. The gateway was silent. The realm of death was not known for its liveliness. Aym and Baal stood stoic and unflinching, as if they had not heard any of the conversation. Slowly the tension in his body faded, feeling the familiar weight of the chains on his arms. Soon. Patience. Their next meeting would likely be after Shamura's defeat, and then everything would be in place.

"I look forward to our next meeting Una."

[jensthwa]

i was made for lovin' you (PSH x reader)

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

In an attempt to grasp at his youth, Seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. When it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. Maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.  

PAIRING: new bike owner!seonghwa x afab mechanic!reader.

GENRE: strangers to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 20k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both seonghwa's and reader's), wooyoung being a little shit for the umpteenth time + jongho, yeosang AND hongjoong (omg), that feeling you get when your youth is ending, midlife crisis! (or so yunho says), a loooot of work related/motorcycle plot, flirting, seonghwa losing his rizz, reader is adopted so that may count as a trigger warning for some of you, shitty exes, crying a bit but not really, pet and nicknames (ghost, dear), they almost get caught in a thunderstorm, lots of tension, making out, oral ( f & m reciving ), descriptions of the female anatomy, floor AND protected sex ( wrap it up pls ), the ending leads straight up to the next story on this universe so be aware of that.

NOTES: hello everyone! after almost a month in the making, here you have it! THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone, although there's some characters and scenarios you can understand better if you read the last three parts (you can find them in my masterlist). this really didn't need to be so lenghty but it turned out that way for some reason (i'm the mayor of yap town). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 02 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist.

Seonghwa is proud to be the type of person who can just tell what's going on after assessing a situation for a few seconds. 

His intuition is something he can rely on and he almost never misses the mark when he makes predictions that he doesn't share with anyone else in case it brings anyone down. 

As he watches San kissing his girlfriend's cheek and then stare at her like a lovestruck idiot, his mouth quirks up a bit and he quickly hides it behind the soda can he's been nursing for the past couple of minutes. 

He's happy it finally happened. 

He's also a little butthurt that he didn't get the chance to fully get to know her first. 

They've been together for a few months now, maybe four if he recalls correctly. Back then, he danced with her at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment like he didn't know one of his closest friends had been in love with her since they both were in highschool. 

He didn't tell anyone, but a part of him did it to see if it would prompt a reaction. And, from what he was told by Wooyoung, it did. 

She is his type of person, though. And when he texted her a few days later and she sent in a non-detailed voice note briefly explaining what went down after they all left the party and she stayed behind to help her drunk best friend, he told her he understood and that he kind of already knew. 

Or at least, he expected it. 

He also explained to San that, although his intentions with his girlfriend (before she was his girlfriend) were mostly genuine, he’s obviously not in love with her. 

After all, they only met that one time and now, back in San and Woo’s shared apartment for what feels like an overdue reunion after months of busy schedules and adult life, he can assure them both with a nod and smile that he is, indeed, happy for them. 

He treasures admiration for those who are able to find love in this modern age, anyway. 

Now there's two couples in the group. Seonghwa has never been the type of guy who chases relationships and has a goal set on when and how to get married. He simply exists and welcomes the opportunities life gives him as they come. 

That's how he got his job at Room for More. His professor gave him a recommendation letter after finishing the last presentation of his career and suggested he try his luck at his colleague’s company. 

And now he's actually doing what he studied to do and he's loving it. Working in interior design and fighting minimalism while he's at it? 

Incredible. Life could not be better. 

Kind of.

As rare as those types of opportunities are, he truly believes it is way easier to find a niche profession people are actually comfortable with than it is to find love in modern society. 

Life might give you your dream job out of nowhere, but it can also take away the opportunity of finding a partner you can celebrate your success with. 

He never even told his friends when he got the job. Only Hongjoong, who then passed on the word to the rest of the group and, after they all congratulated him for it, they quickly moved on to their tesis and focused on not letting their last year of university eat them up while they were at it. 

Except for Jongho, he very much had a few months left to ignore the unavoidable adulthood period he was about to suddenly enter his senior year. The rest of them, minus Hongjoong, had the right to grasp as much as they could of the freedom of only being weighed down by exams and not by other obligations like rent and bills. 

Wooyoung and San’s lease is being paid by their parents, so they don't really count. 

And Hongjoong lives with his bandmates in a little apartment above the rehearsal space provided by a lovely grandma who treats them all like they are her sons, so he doesn't really count either. 

Seonghwa feels like, in the span of a year, he took a whole step forward while everyone else is still enjoying their youth. Now, he has presentations and meetings with clients he needs to worry about. 

Love is not his top priority, not that it ever was, but now it barely crosses his mind. 

He just wants to stay cool and young for a few more years before giving in completely into feeling like an adult. 

So, naturally, what's the first idea that popped in his mind a few weeks ago when thinking about the inescapable passage of time? 

That he should definitely be a little more irresponsible with his finances. Why not? He's in the perfect period of his life where he's allowed to make a mistake without the fear of eternal judgment by a superior being. 

The superior being happens to be his mother, of course. Who else would it be? The woman could make a God shake in their shiny boots and silence them with a single scowl. 

She's all the way back in his hometown, though and she's really rooting for him to make it big in the city. 

Surely, she wouldn't mind if he bought a motorcycle to help him commute faster to his appointments, right? 

Well, he's about to find out any day now.

Looking out of the window that looks to the street, Seonghwa can see his new acquisition parked and sparkling under the streetlamp and the smile that it brings to his lips it's big enough for Yunho to bump him with his hip and lean against the window sill as well. 

“Who's making you smile like that?” he asks, looking away from Seonghwa and following his line of sight till it reaches the beautiful Bonneville he just got on a great deal with a guy who wanted to get rid of it. 

The auction post said that it was because it looked too vintage and the owner wanted to upgrade to something more ‘modern looking’. 

A fool, he thought. 

Because to him, this bike checks all his marks: it is modern enough that in case he needed to get any parts for it, it wouldn't make him lose his mind in the process. But also, it has that vintage, nostalgic, old film feel and look to it that is just right up his alley. 

He loves it. 

Huh, maybe he did find true love after all. 

And after breaking open his savings, Seonghwa managed to get a hold of it without financially ruining himself. Only a bit. 

He didn't tell any of his friends about it, maybe that's why Yunho whistles after he checks it out. 

“Now who's riding that baby?” 

“Me,” Seonghwa smiles, turning to his friend who, as the response dawns on him, drops his jaw and lets out an amused chuckle “What? That's my bike!” 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Why would I lie to you?” He returns, softly. 

A bit passes and then Yunho turns to everyone else scattered around the living room. 

“Guys, Seonghwa is having an early mid-life crisis and bought a motorcycle!” 

Yeosang gasps “Ain't no way…” 

“Hwa? A motorcycle?” Wooyoung hollers, louder than everyone else “What's next? Tattoos?!” 

Oh, for the love of God. 

Maybe there's a reason he didn't tell anyone until now. Everyone gathers around the window to look at it like children at a zoo and he takes a step back, sitting on the arm on the couch, a subtle smile on his lips. 

The only person that turns to him is San’s girlfriend, smiling proudly like he just won the lottery or something. 

Damn, she really is his type. 

“Are you happy?” She asks and it tugs at his lonely heart strings like crazy. 

He pushes through, nodding and shrugging a bit, dismissing his feelings for the final time. It's not really her, he reminds himself. It's the thought of having someone in his life that treats him the way she treats San. 

“Sure am,” he murmurs “My bank account? Not so much.” 

She laughs and Jongho turns to him at that “Are you an old man with debts now? Noooo,” he pouts “Who am I going to ask for bail money now?” 

Gyuri, Wooyoung's ex-girlfriend who somehow manages to stay friends with him, scoffs “You've never been to jail, kid.” 

“But he's the first person on my emergency contact list for that!” 

And just like that, they all pull away from the window and back into their seats to discuss the reasons why Jongho would end up behind bars. 

Being annoying seems to be winning. 

Seonghwa is glad to take the attention off of him. This way, he can't be caught staring at the way Mingi’s girlfriend sits on his lap and nuzzles her nose against her boyfriend’s neck. This way, the sigh he lets out when he catches San whispering sweet things into his girl’s ear gets lost amidst pointless banter and giggling. 

He shouldn't feel envious. 

But somehow he ended up wearing a green short-sleeve today, so it checks out. 

“Important client. Wants to renovate their whole space, his apartment and his office.” 

His boss is excited. It makes him smile as he stares at her with his hands behind his back, like he usually does when he receives instructions. 

“He loved your work, I showed him the photo studio you helped with last month and requested you specifically. He said that he feels trapped in a box every time he gets to work and everytime he returns home, so… He wants you to lead the project,” she smiles, tapping her manicured nails against her desk and cocking her head to the side “Congratulations, kid, you got your first big commission coming.” 

“Thank you so much,” he bows, his body bending out of pure gratefulness and instinct “I'll make sure to run everything by you accordingly, boss.” 

“Well, I'm expecting a report in two days.” 

“Two days?” 

“Mhm. He wants to meet with you this afternoon… In four hours, exactly. I already sent you an email with the details,” she gets up from her desk, extending her hand towards him and he rushes to shake it “You're doing the initial assessment today, alone. Everyone else has something going on.” 

Fuck. 

“Of course,” he's worried and anxious, but he makes sure none of it shows as he gives her hand a firmer shake before letting it go “I'll do my initial research in the meantime, then.” 

She nods and dismisses him with her hand. 

He stresses the whole time he looks up the name and company of this new client. It seems like a serious business, not the kind that wants to reject minimalism especially when the nation's professional aesthetic runs on it. 

It’s a modern tech silicon valley run by, what he's able to gather, a very rich family his new client is part of. There's a picture of them, smiling at an event, looking like the nightmare of working class people. 

He tends to keep his opinions on chaebol’s at bay (Yunho is his friend and he’s rich, so he can't really voice what he thinks so freely anyway) but the fact that they contacted his company, an interior design business with barely any recognition amongst their competitors, is both surprising and concerning. 

He clicks an article where his new client is featured. He's the heir of his family's empire, a tech savvy himself and he can tell, from the way they framed his answers, that he is well media-trained. 

Seonghwa has no name for himself. Why would he request him? He's not so sure the ambiance he helped to create in a mere photo studio is what is granting him this opportunity. 

His intuition is telling him, as he clicks for his initial research to print, that there must be an ulterior motive. 

But he's going to embrace the chance of securing his rent money either way. 

He just hopes his hair is presentable enough when he gets there. The helmet he bought is really not helping, the wind that somehow gets into it as he cruises through the streets doesn't help either.

Wanna know what else adds up to his problems today? The engine sounds weird. 

It sounds fucking weird. 

At a red light, Seonghwa lifts up his visor and tries to figure out what the hell is going on as much as he can. 

He's too green for this. Too new to this world. 

Would his mother scold him if she finds out he lied about doing a thorough research about the bike world before investing in one? 

He looks at his watch. He has time to spare, an hour and a half before the meeting takes place. 

Before he can fully make a decision, his body weight is making him turn into a street he doesn't know that well. But he's sure he saw a repair shop on the way to work today. 

Or was it just a body shop? Maybe he imagined it and the sudden panic he feels rising and darkening his cheeks under the visor is convincing him he's right. 

When he sees the floatable mascot waving in the wind, he lets out a sigh of relief. 

Pulling up, he sees a few cars with their hood open and a few new, modern bikes to the side, so he parks a few meters from them and when he turns off the engine and gets down from his -apparently- damaged new acquisition, he feels like he can finally breathe. 

No, scratch that, he takes his helmet off and then he's able to breathe. 

When he scans the place, there's not a soul in sight. 

Until he hears someone humming. It's a song he heard before, he can't quite put it together by the melody but it sounds like something he used to enjoy when he entertained the idea of joining Hongjoong's band all the way back in first semester of college. 

Something with heavy guitars, which kind of fits the place’s vibe. Looking around, he swears to himself he's trying to find the source of the humming.

After all, he doesn't have much time to take in the place.

But he does anyway. 

When he steps deeper into the shop, he feels like he's been teletransported into a decade he never got to experience, into a culture that is not his to experience in the first place. 

It's like a Sons of Anarchy set, something he would see in an indie two thousands movie, maybe. There's a lot of stuff laying around, an organized chaos he guesses he can attribute to the nature of this kind of job. 

But there's also a lot on the walls, aside from the usual tools hanging from it that look worn out there's posters and the Harley Davidson logo plastered at least five times in shirts, hats and jacket applique patches. 

He thinks the walls can be painted a new, muted color instead of the sort-of bright blue and beige they have going on. 

Focus. What the hell. 

Shaking his head, he follows the sound of the voice until he reaches the back of the shop. There's what it looks like an office, maybe a reception? With a door that's wide open and seems to lead to a storage he doesn't need to get in to. 

There, on her knees, he sees the source of the sound: A girl. 

A beautiful, beautiful girl. 

With her hair out of her face and overalls that seem too loose on her frame. 

Is his heart okay? It feels like it stopped beating. 

And then the beating comes back in full blast, goosebumps on his skin reminding him to speak up. Clearing his throat softly, he does. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, shit,” she drops whatever she's working on, stops writing something down on a notebook that looks like it's about to run out of space “You fucking scared me!” 

“I can… see that. I'm sorry.” 

“Did you float all the way down here? Fucking Christ,” she mumbles something under her breath, getting up from her position and leaning into the desk in a way Seonghwa will probably remember forever. He gulps “What can I help you with, Ghost?” 

She's breathtakingly beautiful and he, who's usually smooth with words and random interactions, stammers out his response “H-hey, yes I… I'm Park Seonghwa,” he starts, smiling a bit “I was hoping there was someone here who can help me with my bike?” 

She looks around and he assumes she's looking for someone until he sees the corner of her lip curving up a bit “As I said, what can I help you with?” 

Did he already fuck this whole thing up? 

“Oh! I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't— I mean that's not what I…” her smirks widens, he suddenly remembers he's running out of time so he gets it together “I just bought a motorcycle and I'm sure the engine is not supposed to sound the way it's sounding so I thought I could use someone taking a look?” He gets out as fast as he can and the stranger claps her hands in a way that makes him take a step back. 

She intimidates him. Just a little bit. 

“First time owner?” She asks but he's sure she already knows. 

Chuckling nervously, Seonghwa nods “What gave it away?” 

“Your gear,” she simply states, getting out from behind the desk and into the garage space, moving swiftly through it like she owns the place. Damn, does she own the place? “You're barely wearing any. I get it, it's stuffy,” she turns over her shoulder to smile at him “It'll grow on you.” 

“More like I'll get used to it, I feel like.” 

“Yeah,” she rounds a car, tapping the hood of it and taking a pause as she scans the front of the place “That's what I said.” 

That's definitely not what she said. 

He's not sure if she's being rude or merely sarcastic, but he shouldn't be enjoying it the way he is. What drags him out of it is the way laughs when she sees his bike “This one?”

Concerning. Danger. Why is she laughing?! 

“Y-yeah.” 

“I don't get to see this type of bike often. Damn, she's beautiful.” 

He smiles, taking down his worries a notch “Yeah, I got a great deal for it. The guy said he wanted something like that instead,” he points at the one right next to his “Said he wanted something that looked out of Terminator. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they used a Harley Davidson for the movies.” 

“I'm guessing he meant Robocop?” 

“Maybe.”

“What an idiot,” she sighs, inspecting his bike closely “Not you, Park Seonghwa, the guy who sold you this. Key.” 

Key? Oh, right, the key. He tosses it to her and she catches it with expertise. 

“Well, thanks for clarifying that.” 

She laughs again, taking his helmet that's resting on the seat and putting it down on the floor as she straddles the bike “You're welcome,” she starts it, revs the engine a few times and then grimaces in a way that makes Seonghwa’s heart drop to his ass “Okay, Ghost, please tell me you have time to spare today.” 

“I actually don't,” he takes a few steps, worried frown on his face that prompts another sigh from her “I have a very, very important appointment in…” he checks his watch “In an hour that I really, really need to get to and— Is it that bad?” 

“No! No, not at all, I'm just better with cars than with bikes but, uhm… My brother is coming back in around fifteen minutes?” She offers and with the scowl on his face, she seems to backtrack “Listen, Park Seonghwa, why don't you leave your number with me and we can get this fixed by the end of the day. You can come by to pick it up or we can drop it to you early, tomorrow.” 

“Would you? Oh, my God,” he lets out another nervous laugh “That would be amazing, actually.” 

“Yeah, it's probably just the chain tensioner that needs an adjustment. Nothing's wrong with the engine as far as I can tell but that's why I want the guy who specializes in this type of thing to check it out.” 

“Your brother.” 

“Exactly,” she nods, turning it off and getting off as quickly and if Seonghwa was a little less concerned that he might've waisted his money on an expensive motorcycle, he would've noticed the proximity and the way she looks him over  with a curious glint on her eye “So, Park Seonghwa, what's your number?” 

She takes a step to the side and offers him her phone after unlocking it. He reacts to that. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

He doesn't notice the big smile she offers him either. He doesn't have time. He enters the digits fast and checks over them two times before saving the contact information and returning the phone. 

Checking his watch once again, he curses under his breath and looks at his baby with desperation, begging, praying that he doesn't have to spend a fortune on it. 

“I really have to go.” 

“I can see that,” she returns his words from before, smiling and leaning to rest her weight on the hood of the car she tapped earlier “Good luck with your, uh…” she looks him over one more than and this time he notices it, blushing like a teenager for some reason because of it “Business meeting?” 

The crossbody bag he's wearing probably gave him away, huh? 

“Yeah, yes. Thank you so much for all your help… Ian?” He reads the nametag on her overall and immediately thinks it is an unconventional name for a girl, but doesn't add anything about it “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“I get it, you're grateful, now leave.” He catches on that she's pretending like his presence bothers her so he can hurry, which he's actually grateful for. 

It occurs to him that he could stare at her forever like an idiot if she didn't. 

“Okay, bye. Please tell me if I have to, uh, rob a bank or something to cover the cost.” 

She laughs again and it sounds pretty this time. 

What the fuck. 

“Sure,” she nods and he takes a few steps backwards until he's about to turn and then he hears her voice again, so he doesn't but he keeps walking “It's Y/N, by the way.” 

“Huh?” 

“My name is Y/N, Ian is my brother.” 

His heart beats loudly and he can't help but smile as wide as he possibly can “Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Goodbye, Park Seonghwa!” 

He finally turns and then screams back “Goodbye, Y/N!” as he's hurrying to raise his hand and call on a taxi who just passed the entrance like divine intervention, placed perfectly just for him. 

He misses the sudden blush on your cheeks because he's already in the cab by the time you reach the garage’s door to glance at the beautiful man one last time.

Seonghwa is right on time. With a few minutes to spare, actually. 

The building looks even more modernized than in pictures. He can even see some workers remodeling an office he passes on the way to the… third? Main desk he has to go to. 

It's a very big company and he can see the silicon valley aspect of it all once he notices the few different uniforms everyone is wearing. It seems like the building is one big, creative space and he likes it, but it does feel a little cold in a sense. 

“I'm looking for Mr. Kim? I have an appointment in… five minutes with him, I was sent from—”

“Room for More. Park Seonghwa is here.” The lady at the reception doesn't spare him a glance as she talks through her headset and he has to blink a few times, bowing briefly when she points towards the elevator to his right “Floor sixteen, the only big office on the floor.” 

“Thank you—” 

“Next!” 

Turning back, he sees there's some people lined up behind him and he quickly moves out of the way and towards the elevator that drops him, two minutes later, into the sixteenth floor. 

As he walks towards the big doors at the end of the hall, he feels so out of place his armpits start sweating even though it is a cold day and the heating is barely on. 

There's a few cubicles, glass separating them from the hall and, in consequence, forcing him to glance a few times out of curiosity. The uniforms and creativity that he saw downstairs is lost and all he can see is the nightmare he had once, when he thought he would end up working in a similar space: men in suits and women in pencil skirts typing away and printing reports he is never going to understand. 

Maybe that's why he's a bit surprised when he gets to Mr. Kim’s office and he's waiting by the door with a kind of ironed three piece suit and a few hairs out of place, toothy grin and open arms. 

“Mr. Park Seonghwa, thank you so much for taking the job!” 

He moves in to give him a brief hug he doesn't really get to reciprocate before he's moving away and into his office. 

“It's, um, a pleasure,” he stammers out, following him “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Kim— Wow.” 

“I know, I know,” his client sighs as he takes a box and throws it to the side of his desk. The space is a mess and both of them grimace at the sound of something breaking inside the cardboard “This is why I recruited you. I tried to do something myself and ended up with… Whatever this is.” 

Looking around, Seonghwa is able to see what he means. The walls are mismatched and there's an unfinished design on the one to his left. Someone started painting a tree and gave up after sketching out a few branches. 

“And please call me Soohyun. Everyone here already calls me Mr. Kim and it makes me feel like my father,” he adds, sitting down on his desk chair and pointing to the one in front of it “That's my sister’s work. She tried to help me but broke one of her nails trying to get the cap off a painting tube so… She left me with this mess.” 

Seonghwa smiles, sitting down in front of him and getting his sketchbook out of his bag. Seemingly excited, his client rests his arms on the desk and grins at him, expectantly. 

He seems a little childish, not like the guy he studied earlier today. He looks younger than what he actually is like this, in a space that mimics what Seonghwa picks up like impatience and boredom, maybe the desire of breaking free of a corporate jail. 

Now, he understands why he contacted Room for More. 

“So, Soohyun… What do you want me to do for this space?” 

He spends the rest of the day in the middle of the mess, getting to know Soohyun’s vision and learning about the company as he helps to pile up the boxes laying around and drawing different ideas down. When he tries to talk about a possible budget, the man silences him and tells him not to worry about it. 

The pretty girl he met earlier crosses his mind one time, when Soohyun asks him if he can stay later than anticipated to give him an excuse to get out of what he says it's about to be a very boring and pointless meeting. 

Her image, your image makes him smile and he wonders, for a second, what the hell are you doing with his bike. 

And if he gets to see you again. 

Your brother comes back like a whole two hours later, so you're grateful you didn't push your new client to waste fifteen minutes of his, apparently, very busy day. 

“He said he got a great deal for it?” you nod “This one is not even that old, I'm sure they still make them!” 

You shrug and your brother sighs.

“Maybe he got scammed.” 

“I didn't ask but I think it started making that noise today because he seemed… alarmed,” you tell him and Christian pushes his hair back before taking the key out of your open palm “He didn't stay because he had a business appointment or something. He looked very laid-back, though, not rich at all, so don't you dare overcharge him for this.” 

“Oh, so you liked him.” 

Rolling your eyes, you turn to open the hood of the car you're supposed to be working on instead of giving away information he should've listened to if he didn't tend to walk out mid-shift “Yeah, we're actually getting married next week.” 

“Well, that means I can dispute getting the whole garage once dad goes away.” 

You let out a groan but you smile a little as you try and remember where you left off last night. 

“The only way he can go away is if he's dead, Christian,” you remind him “And he's going to outlive both of us.” 

“Of course he is.” 

You're not sure if your dad has a will at all. You're not his real children after all, so If he does you're not sure you're included either. 

It's not hard to tell you're adopted, but you've known Christian since before it was decided you two would share a family and even a last name. 

You grew up together, the adoption home treated both of you decently enough so you two never struggled as much but the children your age were a different story entirely. They used to tug at your hair and push you to the ground during group activities and the only one who was brave enough to make them stop was Christian.  

So, when your dad showed up at the adoption home and picked him out of the hundred children, he told him he didn't want to go anywhere without you. 

Sure enough, your dad took one look at your frightened little face, hiding behind Christian like a coward, and filled out the paperwork twenty minutes later. 

You remember gaping at the director, waiting for him to do something about this six feet tattooed guy in his late thirties wanting to take you both away from the only home you ever knew, but you're grateful the system didn't give two craps about children back in the day. 

Not that it gives a crap about them now, but at least they're a little more careful with just handing out kids like that. 

Because it could've gone terribly wrong. You were sure, at eight years old, your hand grasping the seatbelt on the back seat of your new dad’s car, that it was about to go terribly wrong. 

But he turned out to be nothing but a kind, hardworking (with an amazing credit score, no criminal record and steady income), widowed man who was looking to fulfill his late wife’s dreams of having a family and someone to leave their business to. 

After all, she was the one who built the shop from the ground up. You desperately needed to know more of her and your dad made sure to let you know how amazing she was in every aspect. 

She became someone you looked up to, even if you never really knew her, maybe that's why you ended up working at the shop as well. 

And yet, you still don't think it belongs to you. Ian is the one your dad wanted to begin with, you're just an added bonus. 

You're not sure you want it, either. 

But there's not much you know outside of it. Your time in school was great, no one bullied you anymore and the tough skin you developed out of nowhere cushioned the typical jokes that kids and teenagers are apparently programmed to make. 

You never made fun of anyone with ill intentions, so you're not sure how true that statement is. 

Either way, you kind of know where they were coming from. You weren't particularly exceptional at any subject but you never got in trouble for anything either, so you just kind of floated in everyone's orbit until you graduated, never belonging to any specific group of people or participating on any extracurriculars to help you maintain your barely there friendships after graduation. 

This shop is truly all you got. And the family that comes with it, of course.

Your dad coughing in the back and the sound reaching your ears even when the sound of Park Seonghwa's damaged motorcycle is right next to you, reminds you that the spending every second of your teenage years and early adult life learning all you could about how to fix a car was worth it. 

“Fucking chain tensioners.”

Smiling, you turn your head to your brother and he's already working on it “So it was the chain tensioner?” 

“Yeah,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead “it's always the fucking chain tensioner with these things.” 

You don't tell him you already knew that. 

“So you could get it fixed today?” 

“Yeah, yeah. He said he's coming back tonight?” 

“Oh, I kind of suggested dropping it off tomorrow so I'm not sure…”

“Y/N!” he scolds immediately and all you can give him in return is an innocent smile “I'm not dropping off shit tomorrow.” 

Turning back to the car, your smile grows into a cheeky one. 

“I never said you would do it.” 

He scoffs “If this is your way of flirting with people, I can see why you never got far with anyone befo— What the fuck?” 

Jaw slack, holding the greasy towel you sent flying into his direction a second ago, he throws it back and it lands by your feet. 

“Did I lie?” 

“Stop being an ass or the next thing I'm throwing your way are my bedazzled pliers.” 

Your dad’s voice behind you puts a stop into the petty and pointless bickering “Well, don't, I worked hard on those,” you smile at him and Ian all but sulks before returning to the task at hand “I expect you both to be done on whatever you're working tomorrow, by eight. We have dinner with the Lee’s.” 

Ah, dinner with your dad’s closest friends. Usual Tuesday shenanigans, of course, but it doesn't stop the nervous bubbling inside of you. 

You pray Deokhee can't make it (he rarely shows up) but you mutter out an okay in response even if you don't feel like going anyway. 

Nodding, he quickly looks over on what you're both doing before disappearing into the back of the shop again. You look down at your toolbox and find the bedazzled pliers your dad gave you as a part of your fourteen birthday gift with a tiny, grateful smile. 

The eternal loop of working in the same usual five, fixable problems on the cars that people drop off at the shop sets in afterwards. And, for the rest of the afternoon, you keep stealing glances at the Bonneville and wondering what type of man its owner is. 

You've always been drawn to pretty faces, even if it costed you your sanity only a few years back. Not that Christian or your dad or anyone else knew about it. 

The little secrets you keep give you some sense of identity, it sets you apart from the oil changes and calluses on your hands and they remind you of the brief aspirations you once had outside of all of this. 

When you dreamed of belonging to someone else and not just this family business, someone who you thought used to get you before he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Deokhee thought cheating would not affect you.

Why? Oh, maybe because your edges were worn and rough and you've been through worse stuff before. 

What's worse that getting abandoned and picked out as an afterthought later in life?

Being abandoned and treated like an afterthought by the guy you wasted your teen years obsessing over, probably. 

Nothing breaks like a heart or whatever the song says. 

And, to his advantage, he knew you'd keep calm and collected and accepting of his ways because he never promised you the life you imagined for the both of you, even after giving yourself to him multiple times. 

Even after he told you how amazing you were. 

Even after he whispered how lucky he was to have you, hushed and hurried at the backdoor of his house that last time before he broke it off. 

Before he told you he found someone else. 

So you know wondering is a bad idea. You should not wonder about a client, at that. How unprofessional of you, how immature. 

But there was a spark this afternoon you never felt with anyone else. He was brave enough to joke around, even when you did try your best to intimidate him and lost tragically at one glimpse of his pretty smile. 

What's so wrong in indulging in a fantasy no one will ever know about? Heavens know you need one to keep you from smashing the wrench on the windshield of this old, ungrateful, misbehaving Chevrolet that's proving to be more difficult than any other car you've ever worked on before. 

It's only at ten after seven that you're allowed to think about Park Seonghwa without the guilt brought on by delusion. 

“There, fixed,” your brother says and, after starting the bike again, the noise is gone “Call your future husband and tell him to pick it up, I want to meet him.” 

Huffing, you reach for your phone and look at the recently added contact before shaking your head. 

Indulging in a fantasy it's fine, as long as you keep it to yourself. 

You get a chance to prove yourself wrong if you allow yourself to see him again. 

“Not a chance in hell.”

Couple of minutes pass and you fidget the whole time. You're hoping for a yes, so it can all die down tonight. Seonghwa’s lack of transportation and your fantasy included.

He doesn't respond the way you need him to. 

You hate that it makes you smile a bit. 

You glance at your brother and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Would it be nice to not go wherever he is and have time to actually get ready for dinner tomorrow? Yes. 

Do you want Christian to meet Seonghwa? No. That meeting would solidify everything else as a reality, it would pull you out of your little fantasy and you don't want that. 

You want to keep it (Seonghwa) to yourself for a while longer. 

You shouldn't be flirting, you really shouldn't. 

His flirting back puts you in a dangerous zone, a territory you desperately want to explore but can't. Shouldn't. 

Is it dumb of you to re-read the conversation at least eight times before going to bed? 

Probably. 

But you do anyway. 

When Seonghwa is finally walked downstairs by his new client, he's promised a meal by Hongjoong, only if he buys some beer on the way to his apartment. 

His roommates are apparently out and he didn't feel like going, although he didn't explain why. And when he gets there, Yeosang is also splayed out on the couch and with his laptop on his belly. 

“Hwa’s here!” 

“Oh, man, finally,” Hongjoong walks out of his room with wet hair and a towel around his neck “The takeout is getting cold. Come on!” 

He seems… Off. 

Seonghwa eyes Yeosang for an answer but the youngest just shrugs and sits straight on the couch as he closes his laptop. 

“Is everything alrig—” 

“I'll explain it to you when the time is right. Something's up with the band but it's nothing we can't fix.” 

“Okay…” Seonghwa sits down on the tiny table that somehow fits the three of them, the beers and the takeout with a tiny smile, knowing not to intervene until he's told to. 

Eating with his friends is like second nature to him. Everytime it happens, it's like a family dinner and everyone knows what to do and what to serve to everyone so, soon enough, they all have their chopsticks helping them get food into their mouths while they talk about their day. 

Seonghwa is nodding along, not sharing a lot because, well, work is work and he just tells them how excited he is for the new project and what he's planning on doing, he even shows them the mockups and drawings he spent the whole afternoon making, gaining supportive praise for it a second later. 

Yeosang looks up from his meal to him “So it's like a lot of little companies inside one company?” 

“Sort of,” Seonghwa smiles “I don't really get it, either, but that's okay. It doesn't seem like I have to get the concept of the company to plan this whole thing out, only what my client wants and that's… Very different from the company image.” 

He plans on saying something else but all train of thought gets interrupted when his phone dings right besides him. 

And he almost spills his beer on his pretty mockups trying to get to it fast enough. 

Only to end up disappointed, because it's not you but a discount notification from the food app he normally uses when he has the money to order in.  

It had to show up in his face, because what he hears next has the color draining from it “Oh?” 

Oh, God. 

It's like Wooyoung's spirit possessing Hongjoong, he sees it happen in real time and the wicked smile his friend sends in his direction is enough to know where it's all going. 

Yeosang sighs and eyes him with a tiny smile that says I'm on your side, but not really. 

“Hwa… The motorcycle, the looking at your phone waiting for something or someone… Are you seeing anyone?” 

“He obviously is!” 

“Yeosang! Stop feeding his delusions!” 

“So?” Hongjoong places his beer down, cocking his head to the side inquisitively and eyeing him up and down, like he can figure something out that way “Are you?” 

“No! I just… I met this girl today and—” 

“At the company?” 

“No! No, uh… My bike broke down and—” 

“Already?!” 

“Let him talk, hyung!” 

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong sets hips lips into an straight line that makes Seonghwa huff out a chuckle of disbelief “Thanks, Yeo. Anyway, my bike had a weird sound this morning and I took it to a shop, so the girl who's… In charge?” he frowns a little, because he's still not sure “Of the shop sent me a text a while ago saying that it's fixed, I was just checking if she sent anything else.” 

“And you like her.”

It's more than that, really. He can't even explain it, the smile tugging at his lips a dead giveaway of the whirlwind going inside his head at the thought of you. 

“Ye— No! No, I don't even know her.” 

He shouldn't feel so flustered, really, but the things he felt while looking at you earlier were weird and confusing and he needs to think straight before he lets it consume him. 

It felt a little too freeing for his liking. 

Free from what? He's not really able to pinpoint it. But it looks like he's going to have to. 

The way his friends are staring at him like they know something he doesn't it's annoying, but telling. 

“Okay, maybe I do like her a little.” 

Yeosang hums “Like her, like her or just… You know.” 

“I'm not sure…” 

“Well, figure it out!” Hongjoong is excited, almost jumping in his chair at the prospect of Seonghwa getting with someone “You have her number, ask her to… Meet you somewhere or whatever people do when they like someone.” 

“Ask her on a date, hyung. That's what this idiot is trying to say.” 

“Hey!” 

Seonghwa closes his eyes because he can't believe his friends are entertaining the idea, feeding the growing feeling inside his chest “I just met her today, though.” 

“And?” Hongjoong bites a piece of meat and shrugs, dismissively “Timing is never off when you like someone. Do something about it because I swear if I have to hear anyone else complaining about not getting with the girl they like because of timing I'll—” 

“Wait, who complained?” 

The table falls quiet as Seonghwa looks between his friends to find an answer but Yeosang just shakes his head and he gets it.

Not the time to talk about it. 

Hongjoong points at him with his chopsticks, threatenly “Do. Something. About. It. Anyway!” He gets up from his seat, points at Yeosang this time “Guess who almost got kicked out of college for messing around with the wrong crowd today?” 

“That's not what happened!” 

And Seonghwa swears he's focusing on the story Hongjoong is so eager to tell, on Yeosang’s ears turning pink at the mention of a girl he's never heard before, too. 

But all he can think about is you. 

The next day, after briefly stopping by his office, Seonghwa is back with a few coworkers who help with measurements and put their input in the assessment. He spends all day with it, too and, once again, serves as an excuse for Soohyun to get out of some meetings he's not interested in attending. 

As the day passes, he wonders how Soohyun maintains the important position he's in. Nepotism can't do everything for you, right? 

Right? 

But his new client seems down to earth enough to be aware of his advantages in an industry that's quick and cruel and doesn't hold too much space for laziness. 

So he lets it go because, well, he tends to judge but he can't really do much for people who actually deserve to be in charge. 

It's close to seven and Soohyun bidded him goodbye only a few minutes ago, saying sorry he can't walk him out because, at this time, he actually has an international call to make that can't be excused like the rest of his afternoon schedule. 

Seonghwa doesn't make it out of the office before getting stopped by a manicured hand to his chest. 

After the texts last night and Hongjoong's threats, he was practically ready to sprint downstairs to meet you (or whoever you sent) and get his bike back, maybe apologize for panicking and sending a whole ass sticker as a response instead of keeping the conversation going. 

And to see you again. God, he wants to break his Bonneville one more time just to get to see your pretty face again. 

He already idealized you in his head, which is bad and very amateur on his side, but no one needs to know that. 

But now he might have to keep all of that waiting for a few more minutes because there's someone staring at him like just committed a crime. A crime he's unaware of. 

“Who are you?” 

Her scowl tells him she's trying to get a read on him and he thinks he's transparent enough for it to be easy. If he really thinks about it, though, it looks like she wants to scare him a little bit. 

It doesn't work. 

“Um, Park Seonghwa,” he says and then points over his shoulder, to Soohyun’s office “I’m working on renovating Mr. Kim’s office?” 

“Oh, for fucks sake. Why can't no one in this family keep normal people around?” She peeks through his shoulder, the high heels she's wearing helping her with the task. Groaning, she turns around and starts heading for the elevator, mumbling something under her breath. 

The only thing he can make out of it it's something about supermodels and a it's not fair. 

She turns around briefly to look at him again and scoffs, clearly annoyed. 

“I feel like I know your face from somewhere else.” 

Seonghwa feels a little lost, but steps into the elevator when she does. Now he's afraid, maybe she's a crazy person but then it clicks. 

Clearly, he knows her from somewhere else too. 

“I'm sure the only place I've seen you before is on the news, Miss Kim,” he replies with a sheepish smile, shrugging a bit and hitting the main floor button on the panel “That's a nice tree, by the way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The one on Mr. Kim’s office?” he offers, turning to her “He told me his sister painted it and as far as I know, he only has one sister.” 

That brings a smile to her face and Seonghwa counts it as a small victory, for some reason. 

“Ah, so you did your research,” she nods “Please scrape it off the wall if needed. It made me bleed.” 

“He omitted that part.” 

“Of course he did, it was his fault. Anyway,” she shakes her head, stepping out of the elevator and walking ahead without waiting for him. She looks like the type of person who knows everyone else will follow and he does, but only out of curiosity “my brother has your number, yes, Mr. Park?” 

“I'm assuming he does or, at least, my company's numb—” 

“I'm not interested in your company, I'm interested in you.” 

She's also very forward. How could he not guess that from the way she carries herself around? 

“I don't usually do freelance work, Miss Kim.” 

As they both reach the main entrance, she turns around gracefully and with a, for what he can tell, very rehearsed smile tugging at her lips. 

“I'm not interested in your work either, Mr. Park.” 

That, he did guess, but it's disappointing either way. 

“Then what good am I to you?” 

Her grin widens “You'll see.” 

The sound of his Bonneville pulling up it's what gets him to turn away from the mischievous glint in the chaebol's eyes. 

And when he sees you take off a helmet that's not his and wave your hand at him, she blends into the background completely. 

You look good, hair down and probably freshly showered because there's a few droplets falling down from the ends of it to your shirt and leather jacket. Your hands are gloved up and all, like you've been riding bikes your whole life. 

He wonders if that's the case. God, he wants to get to know you so bad. 

“Oh God, not another one, I— Is she your girlfriend, Mr. Park?” 

His head snaps back, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink “N-no, I just met her yesterday, she… That's my bike, I had to get it fixed.” 

Pulling her bottom lip in with her teeth for a second, she nods and then takes two long strides into the direction of a car he didn't see until now “Perfect, then. She looks pretty cool,” she waves at you and he doesn't get to see if you wave back, too focused on getting the color out of his cheeks “Tell her I said that. Goodbye for now, Mr. Park.” 

Seonghwa wants to ask a million questions. What does she want? What does she mean goodbye for now? But he doesn't get to. She gets into the car and drives off and that leaves space for you to drive his bike again and pull up right in front of him this time. 

“Hope I didn't interrupt anything there, Ghost.”

A nervous chuckle abandons him and he manages to shake his head “No, no, she's… my client’s sister?” He offers and you smile, turning off the bike and getting off a second later “She said you're, um, cool.”

“And why would she say that?” 

“Because you look cool? I don't really know, don't question me,” he's sure the efforts he put on making the blush disappear were pointless, cheeks burning when you laugh at him “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“Don't thank me, Seonghwa, I didn't tell you how much it'll cost you yet.” 

He gulps. 

You take mercy on him and the way his eyes glisten with worry, laughing again “It's not too bad. It was the chain tensioner and my brother worked on it pretty fast, don't worry.” 

Relaxing, he takes his helmet and key off your offering hands with a tiny smile, touch lingering on your skin for a second too long “Did you enjoy seeing me suffer just now?” 

“A little bit,” you shrug and mutter your apologies although he can tell you're not sorry at all “I'll text you the invoice with the account you can send the money to?” 

No. 

He wants to say no and make you go with him to an ATM so he can pay in cash just to keep you around for a while longer, he doesn't want this interaction to be over. 

And he's usually very good at communicating things of this nature but something about you makes him giddy and nervous and his charisma is not able to keep up. 

It dawns on him that it's very weird to want to keep a stranger, someone he only met a day ago, in his life for as long as possible. 

Do you feel the same way? He wants you to feel the same way.

The unexpected desire sits on his chest heavily, making him take in a breath more shakily than he intended to. 

“Sure,” the words taste bitter on his tongue, his tone gives away that he doesn't really mean it and then said desire takes over, making him stammer the next words out “Do you want me to take you somewhere?” 

Surprised, you blink a few times and then look down at your own helmet for a second. He feels like he screwed up by asking you that. 

Of course, you don't feel the same way. Of course, you must have someone waiting for you already. 

Of course, of course, of fucking course. 

But just before he can backpedal on his offer, you're looking up, your mind made up and the same teasing smile you've been wearing ever since he saw you yesterday “It won't save you from the debt I'm about to put you through with that invoice but sure.” 

Seonghwa lets out a huff and chuckle all in the same breath, straddling his bike a second later “Ha, ha. Count it as a tip, Y/N.”

“Oh, I'm so telling my brother that,” you beam when he returns the joke and he moves a little, making space for you at the back “Somehow, I don't feel safe with you riding this bike, Ghost.” 

He ignites it and the whole thing shakes a bit before you can even put on the helmet, so he can't really refute that. 

“Do you want to ride it?” 

It's a second too late when he realizes the double meaning behind his own words, unintended, but there they are floating on the air around you both, electric and maybe one sided. 

But you don't back down, taking a step into his space and crowding him, almost towering over him even if he's on the bike and even if that makes him taller than you. It feels that way, so he welcomes the sensation and the pang of his heart against his chest when you lean in just a little. 

“Do you want me to ride it?” 

Breath caught in his throat, Seonghwa takes in your smirk as a sign that, maybe, it's not one sided at all. 

“The bike,” you clarify a second later, like it's necessary “It would be easier to get us to where I need to go, anyways.” 

Planting his feet on the ground, he keeps the Bonneville stable enough to slide back to the space he created for you a minute ago, and if you can feel his heart beating with an unfamiliar, yet exciting song when you take a seat, put your helmet on and press your back against his chest, you sure cover it up when you turn to look at him. 

“Does your fancy job provide you health insurance?” 

He lets out an amused huff “Yours doesn't?” 

“I never asked,” you shrug, taking the handles and looking forward again, leaning in slightly so now he's not that close to you but he feels you everywhere still “Just making sure in case I break you.” 

When you start driving him, handling the Bonneville in a way he never would even with the years of experience ahead of him, he wants to tell you that he wouldn't mind that. 

In fact, he finds himself wanting it. 

As he holds tight to your waist, he finds himself on the verge of telling you to break him apart piece by piece so he can do the same with you. Explore you, not physically, but in the way it truly matters. 

He wants to know your soul, he wants to understand the reason he feels attached to you after a brief meeting and little more. 

You lean back to rest your back a little at a stop sign and he suddenly doesn't care if the way he squishes your waist for a few seconds gives his intentions away. He has your number, he's going to make a move eventually. 

What he does care about is the way you don't tense up and just lean into his body a little more before resuming the task of getting both of you wherever you're going

This? The way he feels so free as you move through the highway, make your way in between the cars at stop signs and the wind hitting his arms? This is the grasp at his youth he's been waiting for. Even if it's just for the night. 

Even if it's over too soon for his liking. 

You stop in front of a house that looks empty. He wonders if it's yours for a second, but then again he's going to find out any minute soon. 

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” 

Getting down from his Bonneville, you take your helmet off and offer him your hand. He slides up his helmet so you can see his face, about to reply, but you beat him to it “Thank you so much for the ride that I technically gave myself, Park Seonghwa, it was a pleasure to meet you.” 

Why are you saying goodbye like you're not planning on seeing him ever again? 

Suddenly, he's planning on ways to mess up his bike again just to get an excuse to see you again. 

No. 

He has to be braver than that. 

Taking your hand, he pulls you in a little bit and you let out a surprised noise that looks like it embarrasses you. 

Your cheeks turn red under the streetlight and he thinks you look beautiful like that. 

“Y/N,” he starts in a whisper, gathering his courage up “Would you like to—” 

“Y/N.” A voice interrupts him and your eyes widen in panic while you look at him, slowly turning your head to the person as he does the same. 

Not before he notices how the pretty blush and all colors drain from your face. 

A guy, with blonde shaggy hair and tattoos covering his neck and hands is standing on the sidewalk with a grocery store bag and a weird look on his face. Beside him, a girl who’s smile fades away when she seems to recognize you scoffs. 

The guy smiles and Seonghwa wonders why you don't say anything back, your grasp on his hand tightening before letting go. 

“There you are, your dad said—” 

“Ghost?” 

Seonghwa doesn't like the way your voice shakes when you say the nickname he's grown used to in such a short amount of time. 

“Yes?” 

You don't bother putting the helmet back on, simply dropping it to the ground and turning back at him “I trust you to ride this bike now, yeah?” 

He doesn't have to be told twice. Making space for you again, you hop on and hug his waste. He slides his helmet back on. 

The guy takes a few steps but Seonghwa stops him with the sound of him revving his Bonneville “Come on, Y/N…” Is what he says when he starts to drive off, accelerating just a little bit before the houses start fading and the busy highway welcomes you both. 

Deokhee has some nerve. 

The fact that he does boils your bloodstream and you wish you could say that the warm sensation spreading through your body is caused by the guy who you're currently holding to. 

Seonghwa has checked in with you once and, after confirming you were okay to keep going, he has held your gloved hands at every red light and stop sign. 

You have no idea where you're going, but you're sure you can't go home and deal with this alone for now. He can't take you home, either (he doesn't know the address) but even if he could, you wouldn't let him. 

The nameless girl that was with Deokhee is the same girl he cheated with. A girl who, by judging her expression, probably knew about you. 

Mind going as fast as the Boneville, you ask yourself how many times she made fun of you for grasping a fantasy, a make-believe story with her now boyfriend. 

What did you lack that she obviously has? What prompted him to hurt you this badly? 

Is he stupid enough to not realize that the sight of them together would tear you apart all over again? 

The scene replays in your head again, after all these years of trying to get over it: Him, holding your hand and telling you how amazing you were to him but that, in all honesty, he didn't see himself going out with someone like you. 

You were too much, too proud, too loud. 

Which doesn't make any fucking sense because although you never held back a jab or a sarcastic comment if needed, you knew the time and place to speak your mind. 

It also didn't make any fucking sense because he knew you would keep his little secret from your father and your brother and, in consequence, keep the relationship you both had and the cowardly way it ended from his family as well. 

You were too much, composed of many flaws and adorned with rough and burnt edges, but you would never in a million years tarnish the happiness of the people who love you because of a rookie mistake. 

Falling in love with Deokhee was a rookie, horrible mistake. 

Falling in love in general? You doubt it. 

Because the way Seonghwa takes his time to slow down the bike on a lookout you were too distracted to notice you were climbing up to, pulls it to a full stop and then immediately reaches for your hands again, makes you believe there's good people out there after all. 

He took you away without asking any questions and you're suddenly welcomed with the same grateful feeling you have towards your family. 

Had you stayed there, you're not so sure you would've kept your words to yourself anymore. Your pain, your anger. 

Getting down from the bike, Seonghwa takes his helmet off and drops it in front of you, on the seat, before leaning in a searching for your glossy eyes. 

You can see him hesitate through the fog your tears form and you don't let them drop just yet. You're angry, but there's no way you would let Deokhee make you cry again in this lifetime. 

You should get down from the bike, but it doesn't move under your weight even if you readjust your position on the seat and you fear that, if you do, you would only plop down into the ground and let it swallow you whole. 

You should say something, too. Thank him, probably, but the tall man lets out a breath before opening his arms and pointing at the view. Gladly, you take the opportunity to take in your surroundings and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Didn't know where else to take you, so I brought you to my breaking point.” 

“Hm?” frowning a bit, you peel your eyes from the city lights to him “Your breaking point?”

“Yeah, that's what I call it,” he smiles and you do too, halfheartedly “Here's where I come to break down and let everything out. There's a playground back there too,” he points behind him and you scoff, amused “If you want to climb up somewhere and scream. The neighbors don't mind it.” 

“I take that as a I've done it before.” 

“Once or twice,” he shrugs “It's good for the soul.” 

“God,” you cover your face with your hands “I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that.” 

“Like what? You didn't do anything.” 

“Running away and acting all weak in front of…” you fake gag, but it's kind of real “Some guy.” 

A bit of silence passes in between you and your savior. 

And then Seonghwa laughs so hard you're forced to uncover your face and stare at him in disbelief “I'm serious! That's like… top one most embarrassing thing I've ever done.” 

His laugh comes to a stop and he doesn't step closer even if you want him to, just puts his hands in the pockets of his pants and looks at you for what it feels like forever. 

You don't mind it one bit. 

“I've known you for a day, Y/N, but even I can tell that's not the most embarrassing thing you've done.” 

Sulking, you turn to the beautiful view one more time and pout like a child. You want to tell him he's right, but your pride doesn't really allow it just yet. 

It's quiet for a minute or two. You move around, throw your leg over the Boneville and sit on top of it as you stare at the city. You feel Seonghwa move around, pace behind you until he finally reaches around takes a few steps before stopping on the railing separating the street from the hill. 

He's looking in your direction instead of the view. You realize he's giving you space to sulk, to take in everything without pestering you with questions about why the hell you both just bolted instead of facing the situation. 

Your gratitude towards him rises a bit more. 

So your word vomit is justified, you think, because you don't want to leave him in the dark any longer. 

The fantasy you indulged yourself in earlier might just grow into a reality you have to embrace, a reality you want to embrace. 

“He's my ex-something and the girl he was with is the one he chose over me. I was supposed to have dinner with them— Well, no, not really,” you sigh, looking at Seonghwa who, in the deem light, just nods and waits for you to continue “He's my dad’s best friend's son and we have dinner with them every Tuesday. Their family, I mean. Deokhee… He never shows up,” you shrug “And when he does, he's alone and it's towards the end of it all so I never get to see him that long. But this?” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “I never thought he would do this to me.”

Finally getting off the bike, you walk slowly towards the railing as well and feel Seonghwa's eyes follow you as you do “He cheated on me with her, for Christ sake.” You whisper once the metal of the railing stops your step. 

“How long ago?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“No,” from the corner of your eye, you see how he shakes his head and leans in slightly “I'm wondering because if I was your dad or your brother or your friend, I would've done something to, at least, ensure something like this never happens to you.” 

“Yeah, about that…” A bitter chuckle abandons you and you shrug one more time “They don't really know what happened between us— They don't know something happened in the first place,” ashamed, once again, you turn to him “He asked me to not tell anyone when we started… Ack, whatever, it doesn't really matter.” 

“It does if it's affecting you,” he insists “It does if you go pale at the sight of him, Y/N. Did he do—” 

“No,” you cut him off, the corners of your lips lifting a bit “He didn't do anything weird besides breaking my heart.” 

“Good.” 

“I would've killed him if he did, by the way.” 

“As you should,” he returns right away and finally, for the first time in the twenty minutes it took both of you to get there, you laugh sincerely. That prompts a smile on his lips “Good to know he's an idiot but not that type of idiot.” 

Huffing, you turn to the city before you again “The only idiot in this situation is me.” 

“For loving someone? Y/N,” his hand reaches your shoulder and you close your eyes in defeat, surrendering your heart to the weird emotion it brings you “He cheated on you. He's the idiot, the dumbass, the—” 

Laughing again, his rant comes to an end and you open your eyes to find him staring at you in delight “Park Seonghwa,” you start, putting a hand over his on your shoulder “You, sir, don't know me.” 

The reminder does nothing to stop him from looking at you with stars in his eyes “I'm a great judge of character, Y/N.” 

“And if you're wrong?” 

“Then let me be wrong,” he shortens the distance a bit, the warmth on your shoulder leaving as he lowers both of your hands, not letting go “But let me get to know you first.” 

The emotion grows bigger, it swirls around your heart and spreads around your body in a way you never felt. It feels good and you hate to compare it to what you felt for Deokhee but where it once was filled with regrets and doubts and a need to hold on tight to whatever that guy made you feel now sits something that you can only describe as excitement and thrill. 

Peaceful, too. 

It steals your breath in a beautiful way. 

Squeezing his hand a little, you inhale slowly and let go of the air when you speak “I don't really do dates, Ghost.” 

“I didn't ask you on a date,” he counters immediately and your cheeks darken “I asked if I could get to know you. We don't have to go on dates, talking to you is enough.” 

“O-oh, I… I thought—” 

He seems to get it right away because he takes another step, your arm pressed to his by now, your hands still tangled in the middle “I one hundred percent meant it that way,” he assures you, chuckling a bit “But I don't really do dates either. Asking you out to a restaurant or a movie or whatever it is people do on dates doesn't really suit me.” 

“How so?” 

“There's this… Weird intention laced into it, into the prospect of a date that I don't particularly enjoy. I want to get to know people and see where it takes us without pressuring ourselves into anything romantic or sexual.” Your heart picks up at that. Not at the image it paints, but at his explanation as a whole. 

It shows he might be interested in you beyond something physical and it's a beautiful thing to note when, all your life, you have felt like people only wanted you for one thing and one thing only. 

You intend to tell him just that but the way he's looking at you makes you forget everything else. Brown eyes scan every inch of your face and stop at your lips for a second. 

Now your heart beats for a different reason. 

“No matter… How bad I want to kiss you, though.” 

Words fall short. They do when for the first time in a long time you entertain the possibility of letting yourself want to kiss someone else, too. 

Leaning in and straightening your back fully to give you the possibility of almost standing face to face with him, you silently communicate your desire. 

It's not enough. He's too respectful. 

Fuck, you like him a lot already. 

“If you want to kiss me then just kiss me…” you whisper, teasing smile in full display “Dummy.” 

He fakes a gasp at your jab as he leans in, his pretty nose bumping into yours for a second and making you giggle, part your lips and close your eyes while buzzing with expectation. 

The sky has other plans, though. It roars above you and you both look up. 

It's been cloudy, a couple of days of unusual humidity throwing off everyone but you guess the steam gathered up in the clouds just in time to knock some sense of reality into you. 

Or pushing you further into the craziness of this one day alone. 

Seonghwa groans a little and then a phone starts ringing in someone's pocket. 

Not yours, you made sure to hit the not disturb button as soon as you got ahold of it. 

You should probably tell your brother you're okay. 

But Seonghwa is still close to you, his lips a breath away from yours, so you put it aside when he shows no intention of picking up his call either. 

The tension builds up again, both of you ignoring the thunderstorm approaching and everything else. 

There's many things from today you're not going to be able to explain any time soon, the magnetic pull Seonghwa had on you the first time you laid eyes on him is one of them, the freedom you touch with your fingertips when your mind is finally off your duty, off your family… 

It's so dangerous you quickly become addicted to the recklessness of it all. 

And then his phone starts ringing again, so you welcome the reality that washes over you with a sour face and pout on your lips. 

“The universe must be against us being a thing, huh?” You whisper and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, resting his forehead on yours for a second before pulling away completely, pulling out his phone from his pocket. 

“I don't think the universe has much to do with this one, dear,” he frowns and misses the way you flush at the sudden nickname. You swear on your life, normally you would be pretty disgusted at the endearment. Now? You want him to call you that again “I should take this and we should probably go somewhere else. There's not much to cover us up if it starts raining.” 

“Sure, uh…” You fish your phone from your pocket as well, grimacing when you look at the missed calls and texts “I have to make a call, too.” 

He seems to understand immediately “Go right ahead.” 

Putting even more distance in between both of you, you faintly hear a what's going on from Seonghwa and then tap your screen to return your brother's call. 

He picks up right away. 

“Are you okay?!” 

His tone forces your eyes closed. Rushed, you picture him in the backyard with a cigarette in between his fingers, trying to get ahold of himself without worrying everyone else too much “Yeah, I'm okay. I'm with a friend and—” 

“Then why don't you pick up the fucking phone?!” 

“Calm down,” taking in a breath and letting it out, you hear him do the same before continuing “Is there a way I can explain all of this to you tomorrow? I'm fine, Deokhee is a dick and I don't ever want to see him so I ran away like a—” 

“What did he do?” 

“No, nothing now, it's just… Listen, I'll explain tomorrow, alright? I'm staying with my friend tonight and everything will make sense tomorrow. It's really dumb, like… Teenage drama dumb,” you sigh, hoping that the minimal information you're giving him can help him figure it out “Just tell dad that I'm fine and if he asks I'm with a friend who is a girl and she's staying over at my place because there was a… Boy emergency or whatever.” 

“Are you with—” what seems to click is something else and your brother gasps “Y/N!” 

“Can you help out this time?”

The silence on the line seems to extend forever and guilt licks your throat, giving you the feeling that it's about to close up. 

You want to grasp what you felt a minute ago again, the freedom of this, of doing too much, of unnecessarily putting Christian through it because he already did so much for you growing up. 

Just tonight, at least, you owe yourself the feeling of not proving your place in your own family. 

But the silence hurts and you wonder if you could ever, truly, be free from it. 

“You owe me an explanation. Take care and text me goodnight at least, yeah?” 

“Okay,” you whisper back “Thank you, Ian.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, kid.” 

His words fill your eyes with tears again and you don't get to reciprocate them before he hangs up. You know he knows, but it still hurts when you remember how unlovable you felt before you met him as a child.

It hurts when you remember that you allowed Deokhee to make that feeling return. 

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. 

And the more it hurts, the more the sky rumbles and you fear that, if you break down here and now, it would not only embarrass you in front of Seonghwa but also strand him on this hill with you. 

It doesn't matter that he calls this his breaking point, it's not yours to use. 

So again, your tears stay at bay and when you turn around you catch Seonghwa looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

He wants to hug you, his body language gives him away as soon as he steps closer to you but a storm is about to soak through your clothes any second, so you pass him and grab his hand to pull him to his bike in the process. 

When his fingers intertwine with yours, you know he understands. He doesn't make any questions, he doesn't press any information out of you and just allows you to climb his motorcycle. 

“We need to leave.” 

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, getting on the bike as well and goes in for his helmet but your words stop him. 

“Do you want to stay the night with me?” 

Turning his head, he blinks at you a few times and you smile a little before the curve fades away. 

“I have my own place, we can order something in and just talk. Seonghwa, you…” biting the inside of your cheek, you try to approach this the right way “I don't expect this to go anywhere but can't you… Do you feel it too?” 

He stays silent and you fear you might've taken it too far. But it doesn't really matter. Willing to take the risk, you take his hand on yours again and hold it close to your heart. 

The sky roars again in response. 

And you catch when his breath hitches because of it, too. 

“Do you feel it, Seonghwa?” 

A bit passes and then some, his eyes searching for something in yours and then dropping to where your heart beats again.

“What's your address?”

It's already raining by the time you both get into your building’s garage and park his Bonneville. 

The entire ride was a bit long. It had you resting your head on his back while his fingers tapped against yours with impatience. 

But when you make it to the safe space that is the elevator, clothes showing the evidence of the droplets falling from the sky and all, you finally get to breathe. 

Until Seonghwa steals that breath away again. 

He stares at you through the mirror, steps closer until he can take your face with his hands and swipes under your eyes where the makeup has run a little. 

“Ghost…” 

‘I didn't answer before,” he murmurs and wet his lips with his tongue. You can't help but stare at them, the moment somehow more intimate now, under the fluorescent glow of the elevator, than with the city lights and lighting above you “But I do feel it. I stand on what I said before, though.” 

“No dating?” 

He chuckles “No, not that,” shaking his head, he steps away when the elevator gets to your floor “I want to get to know you either way.” 

“Ah. That,” you feel silly for assuming he didn't want to date you, but given your history you're not sure you can blame yourself too much “Well, you're about to see my cave, so we're both halfway there.” 

As soon as you open the door and turn on the light, you can see in his face that he sees what you mean. 

It's a one bedroom apartment that doesn't leave too much to the imagination. Your bedroom’s door is opened, the bathroom door is closed and the kitchen is an American style one that's separated from the living space by a small counter you can barely fit your mail on. 

There's a lot of old furniture that you remodeled, painted over the cracks and stuffed where you needed the most. Your fridge is also old, the couch is somehow the only modern looking item in the living room and it stands out a bit because its material is not as worn out as everything else. 

There's posters on the walls, unframed and placed randomly because, here, you don't have to be put together. The only people who come over are your brother and your dad, so it's okay. 

It's not even an old building, but your apartment makes it look like one. 

“Hope you don't mind the mess, Grandpa.” 

“Oh, I'm not Ghost anymore?” He asks with a breathy laugh, taking his shoes off as you place yours by the entrance and shrugging his jacket off too “It's not messy, it's… Kind of like the shop, really.” 

Mirroring his actions, you take off the leather jacket and welcome the warmth of your apartment “Greasy?” 

“Cool,” he corrects and you walk through your space picking up a few things from the floor and putting them by the living room table “Is it yours, by the way?” 

“The shop?” he nods and you walk to your fridge to fetch you both some water bottles “It's my dads. Why do you ask?” 

“You seemed to own the place, with the way you walked around it,” shrugging, he takes a seat on your couch as he takes in the space “I just wondered…” 

Walking in front of him on purpose, because you could've easily rounded the table and sat at the opposite edge of the couch, you sit right beside him and offer him a water bottle that he takes with a whispered thanks “You wondered…” 

“A lot of stuff, actually,” he admits and you smile “Like your age, for example. Your last name, how did you end up working as a mechanic, if you were studying something, if you…” he pauses and turns to the side, resting his shoulder on the couch “If you liked me the way I liked you.” 

Choking on the water you're gulping down, it's very evident you didn't think he was about to go down that lane again. 

So directly, too. 

He laughs, leaning in and wiping your chin with a familiarity that has you even more breathless than his confession. No, scratch that, it's all of it. All of him. 

“Don't make me get on that bike again tonight, dear.” 

That goddamn endearment again. You might risk it all and kiss him, chin wet and all. 

“Whatever for?”

“You clearly almost choked to death,” he exaggerates, probably an excuse to stay that close to you longer than he needs to “And it was my fault, too.” 

Smiling and shaking your head, you push him a bit until he falls back into his previous position, smugness tugging at his lips in a way that has your insides jolting up with excitement “I do like you, Ghost.” 

“I know that now, but earlier I did wonder.” 

“Wondering is such a dangerous thing, isn't it?” 

His smile settles with a softness that melts you, your hand back in his with ease “Not necessarily.”

Squeezing his hand in unspoken agreement, you nod and then try to remember the topic of conversation before… Well, before he distracted you. 

“Well, you were kind of right with your assumptions then. It's not my shop, but I grew up in it,” you shrug, letting go of his hand to grab your phone “We should probably wait to order something.” 

“Yeah, until the monsoon dies down,” he says, looking outside your window that does little to conceal the thunderstorm outside “You grew up fixing bikes?” 

“Cars,” you correct with a nod, connecting your phone to the speaker that lies under your tv “Is my day to day playlist alright?” 

“Yup,” he crosses his legs on the couch and you see from the corner of your eye how his follow your actions, heat rushing to your cheeks at how attentive he is “Did you always want to be a mechanic?” 

The question takes you by surprise, but you cover it up as you set the volume to the perfect percentage to let you two have a proper conversation without raising your voices “Kind of. It's all I'm good at, really,” you shrug “Also, my dad’s wife looked very cool in pictures growing up and I wanted to be just like her, so.”

“Your mom?” you shake your head and he frowns “Your stepmom?” 

“No, uh…” clearing your throat, you get ready to reveal a piece of you that you rarely share with other people, even if it's obvious to everyone else “I'm adopted. Me and my brother we, mmm, we used to live in this sort of… Group house, I guess, and dad just picked us one day,” word vomiting again, once that you open the dam you don't know how to stop “I mean, he's not… We're not blood related, either, he just brought me along like when you adopt a dog at a shelter and they give you their favorite blanket, you know?” 

Seonghwa is full on frowning at that and you think that, for the sake of just agreeing with you, he's going to nod and let it go, but he doesn't “I don't think you're just something your brother brought along with him. Adopting two kids is a big decision, isn't it?” 

Reluctantly, you nod. 

“Well, there you go.” 

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, though,” you shrug and sip on your water bottle again, gulping the liquid to send that lump on your throat down “But it doesn't really matter because it was a long time ago and now they're both stuck with me.” 

He shakes his head but laughs a little at your sudden shift and, this time, he does let it go. 

But you don't. 

“Thank you, by the way.” 

He smiles, a little confused “For what?” 

“Helping me when I needed you to. We don't really know each other and yet…” 

“It feels like I know you, though.” 

Sharing the sentiment, you nod “I know, it's weird but, uhm… You didn't need to do what you did for me tonight. You even took me to your breaking point!” you let out a puff of air, making it a bigger deal than what it sounds. It's a bigger deal for you, anyway “And then drove me all the way here. That's a lot.” 

“It's not much. It was my fault, really,” he shrugs and shakes his head at the confused look you give him “I kind of… Asked the universe for an excuse to stay with you, so…” 

“Ah, so it was your fault Deokhee showed up,” the lighthearted joke lands the way you intended because he laughs with a sound so beautiful it makes your heart pick up “Got it.” 

“Do you feel better? I mean, after seeing him, are you feeling better?” 

“Not really, it sucks,” you say with a bitter laugh “But I hold grudges like that. It's not…” you raise your hands in self defense suddenly “I don't want him like that anymore, it's just that I can't help but…”  

“I understand,” he whispers and you let out a sigh again, grateful that he interrupted your rambling “People believe that forgive and forget is the way to go when you're resenting someone but human beings don't really work like that, hm?” 

“Yeah…” 

Staring at him, that weird emotion that you felt at the top of the hill comes back. That dangerous warmth that makes you want to take his hand in yours and place your lips at the back of it with a familiarity you haven't really earned yet. 

So when you catch him staring at you the same way, you change the subject. 

“What do you do?” eyebrow raising, you eye him suspiciously and that makes him giggle “Meetings all day, past normal shift hours…”

“I renovate spaces, Y/N,” he laughs again “You made it sound like I work with the mafia.” 

“Do you?” 

“No. I have a buddy that does, though.” 

“Oh, so I was kind of right then?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” you both laugh again and then he looks around your living space like he did when you two first got in “You were right about the whole getting to know you just by looking at your apartment.” 

“I know, it says a lot about a person.” 

“It does!” He's excited now, sitting straighter and turning ever so slightly, your knees bumping now “There's only a few people that I trust who have those… Beige, white and black houses or apartments and that's only because I got to know them before I saw where they live.” 

“So, you have rich friends?” 

He stops and thinks for a second “Yeah, they all have a lot of money. I mean, the people I'm talking about, not my friends,” you raise your eyebrow again and he chuckles “Alright, I only have one rich friend. The rest of them are broke musicians and college students. He was actually the one who called earlier and, uhm…” 

“Interrupted us?” You offer, smiling. 

His cheeks gain a little color, maybe from the memory “Y-yeah.” 

“Everything's okay?” 

“Yes! Yeah, he wanted me to go pick him up from something but I told him I couldn't because, well—” 

“You were with me.” 

“Mhm,” you see him gulp and the mood shifts a little bit again. His face falls down as he eyes your parted lips, leaning in again ever so slightly, like he's not really thinking it through “Couldn't leave you stranded and he has a chauffeur.” 

Unconsciously, you start leaning in a bit too.

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes… D-do I like what?”

You chuckle and he breathes out a laugh, too “Renovating spaces…” 

Pressing his hands into the fabric on the couch, at your sides, he invades your space a little more now “I do… Do you like fixing cars?” 

Nodding, your nose is a whisper away from his now “I do…” 

He breathes and it lands right on your mouth, making you pant as well. 

“That's good.” 

“Mhm.” 

Eyes closing, your lips tremble a little as you wait for him to close the distance. 

“You're so fucking pretty—” 

You close the distance instead, pressing your mouth into his and letting the tension deflate your posture because you're finally tasting him. 

Your little fantasy is not a fantasy anymore. 

And it feels so fucking good. It feels good to have someone you desire, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, reciprocate your emotions and pull you closer to make acquaintance with your taste as well. 

Seonghwa makes a noise you want to engrave into your brain the second you grab his shirt and pull him to you as well. And then you move. 

The couch is stuffy, your bed is a mess and the cold from the thunderstorm makes its way to your living room even if you feel your entire body lit up from the swipe of his tongue against yours. 

So you stand up. 

You give him a teasing smile when his mouth chases after yours once you pull away “Where are you going?” 

“Another thing you should know about me,” you start, breathy, your thumb swiping your bottom lip on instinct and his eyes follow the motions “Is that I have very noisy neighbors. The woman in that apartment over there,” you point at the window right in front of yours, the building separated by the street but still close enough to tell everything that goes inside your neighbors apartment if you wanted to “Once made a complaint against me because I walked out in my underwear one time.” 

“Is she blind or bitter or something?” he asks, amused by your sudden storytelling, chest heaving as you pull your curtains closed “Or both?” 

“She's old,” you tell him, turning around “And you haven't seen me in my underwear to make that a point, Ghost.” 

“Yet,” he smirks slyly and you blush at the implication. Seonghwa reaches for you as you pass in front of him again and slip right through his fingers a second time “Now where are you going?” 

He sounds whiny. 

You like that. 

“Another thing you should know about me,” walking to the door and turning off the big light, the living room goes dark except for the lighting that illuminates it as you're making your way back to him, getting on your knees on the couch and reaching behind him to turn on a lamp that doesn't do much but, this way, at least you can see each other “Is that I don't invest in new shit. Can't afford it, so those curtains are useless during the day… And when the lights are turned on.” 

“You don't want people to gossip about you kissing a hot guy?” 

“Wow,” his cockiness is clearly a joke but you won't let the opportunity of making fun of him go “Is the hot guy in the room with us?”  

He beams at you. 

“Oh, shut up, Y/N.” 

Humming and feeling a lot more comfortable now that you know that, in fact, the spotlight won't be on you when you keep kissing his lips raw as you intend to, you loop your index finger in the collar of his shirt and tug with minimal force at it. 

He acts like you put a lot of strength while doing it, his lips a breath from yours again as a consequence.  

You're about to let out a witty remark, something to keep the teasing and flirting going but then his eyes actually light up like the sky when the song playing on the speaker changes. 

“That's what you were humming yesterday!” His hands fall to your waist and you all but get whiplashed at the quick change in attitude. 

He looked like he was about to risk it all a second ago and now he's letting his back fall into the couch and taking you with him. 

“Huh?”

“I didn't saw anyone when I came into the shop yesterday and then I heard you humming this song.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, braising yourself on your forearms as he moves his hands up your back “Is one of my favorite songs by them.” 

“By who?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you gape at him in disbelief “Kiss?” 

“I don't know them like that!” 

“You don't know this?” he giggles under your scrutinizing gaze and you follow, still in disbelief. You don't really know what possesses you, but you start singing along to the lyrics “I was made for lovin’ you, baby. You were made for lovin’ me.” 

Seonghwa's laughter dies down at that and you notice it too: How the words somehow seem fitting even though you is day two of knowing him. 

The way his heart beats under the palm you place right above it, on his chest, feels intoxicating. 

So you descend again, your front colliding with his and your mouth grazing his beautiful one as you sing the song to him. 

“And I can't get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?” 

“Fuck…” 

You laugh “That's not really how it goe—” 

His tongue probing your lips open shuts you up for good. 

Seonghwa's hands hold you close, tracing the curve on your back slowly with his thumbs until he finds that spot where your shirt rode up a little, goosebumps on your skin letting him know what he provokes on you. 

There's never been a point in time where you let yourself wonder if you're moving too fast. 

For you, someone who had to take every chance they got in life to get something, out of fear the opportunity wouldn't show up again, this thing you got with Seonghwa feels like it's going at the right pace. 

You both like each other, that much is clear. 

Nothing dramatic has really happened to bond you two together, but it feels like it has. 

Like you're bonded. 

Like it was fated, somehow. 

Like his motorcycle had to break down and he had to walk into the shop when you were the only one there to assist him. 

Like he had to see you breakdown, take you away from the despair Deokhee brings to your soul, in order for you to finally let go and move on to greater things. 

And there's nothing greater than feeling his hand travel down and absentmindedly grab your ass, a noise of satisfaction slipping through your lips and landing on his at the feeling. 

“I'm so—” 

“I liked it,” your smile blends with his as you peck his lips and he does it again, gaining a pleased hum from you “Come here, Ghost.” 

“Where?” 

Disentangling your limbs from his, you follow your original plan and slip from the couch to the floor, your knees hitting the soft carpet you have under the coffee table you're grateful is not that in the way.

Seonghwa sits on the couch again, opening his legs to accommodate the new position you're in and you see the image get to him before the suggestion hits your head. 

You see him gulp when you lick your lips and then it's your turn to gulp, trying to understand if this is something he wants as much as you want it.

Because suddenly you want it. You want it so much. 

It doesn't take much to gather up the courage to touch him, his thighs inviting you to caress them with your nails, teasing, testing him “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, hooded eyes and a soft, whiny, trembling tone making fidget on your knees “More than okay.” 

It makes you smile. But there's things to clear up before you go any further. 

“I don't want you to think I brought you to my house just to get on my knees in front of you, Seonghwa.” 

“I don't… I w-would never think that,” you nod and he releases a shuddering breath “I don't want you to think that this is all I want from you either, Y/N.” 

“I don't think that,” you whisper “but thank you for making it clear.” 

“Mhm, I… Oh.” He stops when your touch trails higher and you take your hands away. 

“You wanted to say something else?” 

“N-no.” 

Squinting your eyes at him, you press “You sure?” 

“I was going to say that I want you… S-so please touch me, please.” 

Who would've thought that a man begging would turn you on so, so much? 

You catch on to it immediately. Lowering your hands again, this time around his calves, you pull him a little so he can sit on the edge of the worned out couch. 

He follows suit. 

“You want me to touch you?” you murmur and he nods “Where?”

He closes his eyes, blush beautifully creeping up his neck “Y/N…” 

“You asked me to touch you, but I already was…” you say, like it's the most obvious thing ever “So where do you want to be touched, hm?” 

Straightening your spine and angling yourself upwards, your nose hovers just below his chin. Hands starting to go up again, you hear his breath hitched when your palm grabs into the fabric of his pants before letting it go, the sound of it hitting the skin under making you and him release a noise. 

“How do you want to be touched?” 

Looking down, Seonghwa's mouth barely brushes your nose when he says “So it's going to be like this?” 

“It's working for you,” you whisper back, the pad of your fingers pressing on his inner thighs and, when you look down, the tent in his pants curves your lips with pride that shows when you turn to him again “Isn't it?” 

Pupils blown, he bites down on his lip and you see, for a slight second, a switch in his demeanor that makes you want to drop the teasing just to ask him to take you right there, on the floor, on the couch, wherever he wants to. 

But, as soon as your fingernails trace the outline of his cock, he switches back “P-please...” 

He doesn't have to beg you anymore. 

Desperate to have him squirming under your touch, you push a little with your thumbs and he whines, a sweet sound you can't treasure as long as you want to because hand grabs your neck and his mouth crushes yours in want. 

In a few seconds, the button of his pants is off and the fabric is pooling at his ankles. You help him out of them, his mouth never leaving yours except when you two break apart to pass sweet moans in between kisses and barely there bites. 

Boxers succumbing to the same fate as his pants, you get him needy and panting into your open mouth as you finally take him fully into your hand. 

Pumping one and then twice, you finally pull away to look at him and the sight that welcomes you is beautiful, big and oozing at the tip. 

Eyes connecting with Seonghwa’s again, you make sure he's looking at you before gathering spit and letting it fall into your hand. 

He moans. 

And then he moans a little more when you start working his length, butt connecting to the carpet once again to give him attention fully. 

It feels invigorating, the control he gives you makes you float into an intimate space you never had the opportunity to explore before and that just adds up to the list of things you're grateful for. 

You take in his reactions, the way he's having a hard time keeping his mouth shut when you get close to the tip and tease it before going back down, the way his breath catches in his throat when you lean in and blow some air on it before letting yourself have a taste of him. 

Licking around the tip and eyeing him as you do so, you get to catch him throw his head back in bliss. Then, you indulge both of you a little bit more: hollowing your cheeks, you move forward to take him in your mouth. 

And then you moan around him at the feeling and he shivers under the palm you placed on his knee to keep steady as you suck him off. 

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dear,” he encourages and you bat your eyelashes at him teasingly, making him chuckle before whining again. Tangling his fingers on your head to guide you to the right speed, he closes his eyes and curses under his breath “So fucking good.” 

It only makes you want to hear him again. So you do your best to stay on him, breathing through your nose and continuing your ministrations as you moans above you, filling your living room with sounds you want to plaster across the walls, encapsulate in a bottle to hear them again when he's not with you. 

You take him deeper and his grasp on your head tenses before you release him with a lewd sound you didn't really intend to make. 

Breathing hard, you let out a whine when he tilts your head back. He looks at you with indescribable desire, want and a little smile that prones yours. 

“You have no idea,” he starts, leaning in to take you mouth with his again, tongue swiping at the saliva that gathered under your bottom lip “How bad I want to ruin you now.” 

Oh, so maybe he's not as submissive as you thought. You should've guessed it, the slight switch and the little glint earlier would've hinted you his true intimate nature if you weren't so busy trying to get the act up. 

“Only if you want to, of course.” 

And yet, he's such a fucking gentleman. You can practically feel yourself getting wetter at his words. 

Your whisper is sweet, a confirmation on what you want and what he obviously wants to hear “Come here, Ghost.” 

You make space for him on the floor and he doesn't question why the both of you are not on the way to your bed right now. 

He seems to like it, even, so you giggle into his mouth at his eagerness to lay you down on the soft carpet and hum appreciatively when his hands bypass your shirt and grab your bare waist to accommodate you both into a comfortable position. 

With his leg in between yours and his chest pressed against you, he kisses you until you're pliant, needy and janking him down to earn some sort of friction. 

Mouth descending down your cheek, into your jaw and then your neck, Seonghwa scatters kisses in the soft spots like he already mapped you out with his mouth. 

His hands touch you where you like, his knee bumps into your core to keep you there as he works his way through you like he had you like this before and it's addicting. 

It feels right. 

He mouths at the valley of your breasts and softly sinks his teeth into the flesh through your shirt and it makes you dizzy, letting out a moan that makes him smile. 

Touching him too, you give his back some attention before sinking your fingers on his silky hair and tugging at the strands. 

He kisses down, down, down until he reaches your belly and then bites you the same way he did seconds ago “Ghost…” 

“Say my name, Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“I love when you call me Ghost,” he starts, breathing hard and you watch his nose disappear under the fabric of your shirt, raising it a bit more when he moves to be eye to eye with you “but I want you to call my name if I'm making you feel good,” kissing the sense out of you for a few seconds, he talks against your mouth “Can you do that for me, dear?” 

“Yes,” you barely nod, opening your eyes to find his “Seonghwa.” 

The way you whisper his name, needy and teasingly at the same time, seems to wake something else in him. 

Because in a second, he's asking you to raise your body a little so he can take your shirt off. You help him with his and he moves to undo the clasp on your bra after asking for permission one more time and you shouldn't really find his insistent questioning of consent so hot but you do. 

He takes his time with you, exploring you with his mouth as you do your best to keep still under him. He kisses your chest, rounding your nipples with his tongue and taking them into his mouth after.

Lightning illuminates the room and electricity runs through you and settles into your core. 

“Seonghwa…” 

The sky roars when he gives your legs attention over the fabric of your pants, moans blending into the thunder and the sound of the raindrops against the window when he pulls back and raises your left leg to kiss a path from your ankle to your thigh. 

You buck your hips at the feeling, asking for more without really saying anything and he smiles before moving to your right leg and giving it the same amount of attention. 

“You want me to touch you?” He asks and you're about to call him out for being mean and clueless, but his smirk proves he's only teasing “Where do you want me to touch you, Y/N?” voice low and dripping in honey, he unbuttons your pants and you're not too fucked out yet to know he's returning the way you tortured him earlier “How do you want me to touch you?” 

Your pants end up meeting with his somewhere under the coffee table and you smile when he zeroes on the wet patch your arousal has formed on your underwear. 

And, unlike him, you're not actually humble in asking what you want “Don't you want to taste the mess you've made, Seonghwa?” 

When he eats you out, he makes sure to taste it real good. Open you up with his fingers, learn the right pace and pressure until heat pools on your lower abdomen and you're incoherently babbling praises under your breath. 

When you come undone on his tongue, you make sure to repeat his name like a mantra. Over and over again until he's sated with his meal and leaves the remnants of it in wet marks as he makes his way up to your mouth. 

Tasting yourself on his tongue is heaven. 

“Sound so pretty for me, you're so… Fuck, Y/N.” 

Taking him into your hand again, his dick twitches at the sudden attention it's getting and you explore the skin on his neck, lap at his collarbone and nuzzle against it because you just can't get enough. 

“I want you inside me, Seonghwa,” you whisper against his skin and you see him close his eyes when your other hand joins you on his chest, thumb against his nipple “Ruin me like you promised, hm?” 

He grabs your chin, eyes dark with passion and affection in a way you never want to forget “Your filthy mouth might be the death of me.” He whispers and you giggle, bratty.

“Good, I never want you to forget it,” you whisper back “I never want you to forget me.” 

“Never in a million years, dear.” 

Happy at his response, you kiss him and feel the warmth of his hand leaving you to try and grab his pants again. You giggle when he curses lowly, letting go of him so he can take a condom out of his wallet with a smile on his face. 

He looks back at you in the process, shaking his head in amusement at the way you're taking the tender pause and he's smiling when he rolls on the condom as well as when he lowers himself so he can kiss you senseless again. 

When Seonghwa enters you, the whiny mess he was when you first touched him makes its comeback and you welcomed it as you sink your nails into the skin of his waist, accompanying his slow movements as he eases you open. 

Soon, you're a whiny mess too. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear and kisses your shoulder while you hug him tight to you and let yourself get lost in the buck of his hips and the way he slows downs to make the moment last, like you're not planning on keeping him in your life and making him see stars whenever he wants. 

When he picks up the pace, the living room is warmer than it was when you first came in and the cold from the storm outside it's forgotten as his sweaty forehead rests on yours and his hips snap into yours with vigor.

“That’s it, dear. God, you feel so good…” 

Ruin you he does. Because this time, as he flicks your clit with his thumb and you come, it solidifies the fact that there's no one else you want. 

Is it crazy and a little rushed because you just met him? Yes. 

Do you give a damn? No. No you fucking dont. 

He ruins you for good and for everyone else, as well. 

“Seonghwa! Fuck, fuck, don't stop.” You beg, overstimulated and hips aching, but wanting him to reach his high so badly none of that matters. 

When his hips stutter, you take his ass with your hands and keep him in place, buried deep inside of you and walls pulsing around him as he comes with a beautiful cry and a rasp of your name in his throat. 

Panting, you take the opportunity to kiss his face as he comes down, nose slowly caressing his with affection and gratefulness and emotion you can't express because it's not the time yet. 

“God, Y/N.” He breathes out with a chuckle and you reciprocate it, kissing his mouth once more before deflating against the soft carpet under you. 

“I know,” you look at him, at his fucked out expression and the cute way he kisses the hand you use to wipe the sweat out of his face makes you feel giddy and in love, even if you know you're aren't in love with him yet “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

Laughing, he nods in agreement “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

He kisses you again and then pulls out, making a quick work on the condom and asking for the bathroom so he can dispose of it before making his way back to you. 

When he does, you're already sitting down, still naked, but sipping at your forgotten water bottle. Sitting down next to you, he places a kiss on top of your head.

The carpet is definitely going to use some cleaning after tonight, but that's okay. 

There's a bit of comfortable silence as you both recover from the amazing sex you just had. He takes a sip of your water bottle as well and then there's another thunder that shakes your window and all, making you both jump a little. 

Seonghwa “Do you… Mind if I stay over?” 

You snort “I wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere, Ghost.” 

He smiles, getting close to your face again “Even if it stops raining?” 

You nod, pecking his lips “Even if I have to go and clean up my room just for you.” 

“Oh, wow,” he whistles loud and you push him in feign annoyance, looking around for your underwear “You like me, like me.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

He attempts to hug you but you push him away again and stand up, making a quick job of putting your panties back on “Say that you like me and I'll let you kidnap me if you want.” 

“That's not how kidnapping works, idiot.” 

He gets up as well, taking his underwear and putting it on as he follows you around your apartment. 

You quicken your step, but he catches you right as you enter the mess in your bedroom. He hugs you tight, you back against his bare chest and his chin on your shoulder a second later “I'll honestly let you keep me even if you say you hate me, Y/N.”

Is sweet and it should make you cringe but you all but melt against his touch. There's no really a need to tell him you like him when you place his hand on top of your chest so he can take in the way your heart beats for him for the second time tonight. 

“Good,” you turn a little, smiling at him and then turning to your room again “Do you want to help me clean this up just to make it messy again?” 

“Y/N!” 

Seonghwa doesn't help you clean your room. He, in fact, makes it a lot messier as soon as you two get into bed and when he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he can be by your side every night. 

The only thing that disturbs his sweet dreams is the way you squirm in his hold and he can't quite place the reason for it until he hears the loud, banging alarm ringtone he has set at six thirty so he can get ready for work. 

Murmuring and still half asleep, you slap his chest so he can tend to it “Turn it off, Ghost.” 

He does and he checks the time and the screen of his phone to find a message from his boss. It reads something about taking the opportunity to take the rainy day and work from home or something like that and Seonghwa can confirm, looking through your bedroom window, that the rain falls softly against it still. 

He smiles, grateful to have his laptop with him so he can work on his report if you decide not to kick him out first thing in the morning, and then rolls back to you so he can cuddle you and sleep in for the first time in months of commuting to the office. 

Then his phone rings again. 

Both of you groan at the sound and you sit up, the big t-shirt you put on after taking a shower gathering messily around your waist and he almost forgets about the call at the sight of you. 

You're so beautiful. 

“Pick it up and tell them to go fuck themselves for calling you so early. What the fuck.” 

He smiles “Bossy.” 

“You like it.” You say, smiling back and falling on top of him as he answers the call from an unknown number, your cheek resting on his chest. 

He makes sure his voice sounds extra sleepy when he does “Hello?” 

“Good morning, mister Park!” It's a woman on the line, a voice he recognizes but can't quite place yet “I'm sorry to wake you up, but yesterday you asked me what good you're to me… Guess what? You can find out today!” 

She sounds sarcastic and tired and like she drank seventy energy drinks to stay awake. Seonghwa scavenges his brain until the memory hits him “Miss Kim?” 

You look up at that, curious. 

“The one and only. Now, tonight you will accompany me to a party and—” 

“Miss Kim—” 

“I'm not finished,” you cuts him off, annoyed “At the party, I need you to pretend to be my boyfri—” 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Now, you sit up on the bed again and frown at him. He shrugs and sits up as well.

“This could be a really great opportunity for you to gain connections and—” 

“Miss Kim,” he starts and, after taking in the sudden desperation on her voice, he sighs “I'm flattered you have taken me into consideration for this… Particular, uhm, job?” He offers, feeling awkward as hell “But my day is taken and I'm not single anymore, so I can't do it.” 

He watches you as you break into a little knowing smile and he smiles back, not even the disappointed sigh Miss Kim lets out on the other side of the line can break him away from the spell you so easily put him under. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” She sounds like she doesn't really mean the last part but it's trying hard to make it seem like she does “God… Ugh. Don't mention this to my brother and please cover that stupid tree up, okay? Goodbye.” 

She hangs up before he even gets the chance of saying goodbye or asking if she'll be okay. He has friends who wouldn't pass the opportunity to fake a relationship and go to a party, anyway. 

“So,” you start, getting on your knees and making your way back to him “What the fuck was that?” 

He reaches for your waist without really thinking about it, like he's been doing it his whole life and you sit on his lap like this is a morning routine you two crafted with years of experience. 

“I don't really know. Remember my client's sister?” you nod “She wanted me to be her fake boyfriend at a party tonight, I think.” 

“And you told her you're not single anymore to save face because you didn't want to go?” 

“I told her I wasn't single because I'm not,” he says, honestly “Even if you're not my girlfriend right now… I don't really want to see anyone else but you, so…” 

You fake a gasp and he rolls his eyes, smiling like an idiot when you lean in to leave a peck on his lips “And I was about to kick you out ten minutes ago!” 

Pouting, he holds you tighter “Why?” 

“That stupid alarm almost made me.” 

“I turned it off!” 

You laugh at the way he pretends to be offended and you're about to say something else before his phone starts ringing like crazy. 

It's not a call, it's a message notification. 

He turns to it and sees that Yunho is spamming the group chat with emojis. 

“Oh, God,” he sighs “What now?” 

“Is that your friend from yesterday?” 

“Mhm.” 

When Seonghwa scrolls to the messages to find something that can indicate what the hell is going on, he reads something a little alarming. 

Does anyone want to skip town tonight? 

He blocks the phone and tosses it into the bed, turning to your worried form with a smile “Do you want to meet my friends tonight?” 

You seem to get it immediately. 

“I would love to, Ghost,” you lean in to kiss him again, softly “Only if you introduce me as your girlfriend and not your mechanic, though.” 

Heart beating with a wonderful song, he agrees with soft yes and kisses you dumb for the first time today. 

He almost misses the deadline for his report, too. 

It's not really his fault that he can't get enough of you. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[yeoobiii]

hello, can I ask you to write a mini story about Heeseung, where he teaches Y/n how to kiss 🙏🏻

⋆｡°✩ 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙

꩜ bestfriend!heeseung x gn!reader

꩜ best friends to lovers (?), first kisses

꩜ during a game of truth or dare you admit to all your friends for the first time that you've never been kissed and that you're frankly scared you'll mess up once the situation presents itself. Heeseung sees a perfect opportinity to help you out with that.

or: Heeseung teaches his best friend how to kiss and both of you get a bit lost in it

wc: 5.1k (this has gotten a bit longer than I intended to but honestly I just went with the flow and here we are.)

warnings: consumption of alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request, anon! btw requests are open if you'd like me to write something specific, I can't promise you anything on how quickly I'll get it done or if it's something I'm up to writing but like the link is in my bio :)

I hope you like this, anon!

There’s a few things none of your college friends knew about you. Despite knowing most of them for over three years now, some things just never came up naturally in conversation. Like the fact that you’ve not had your first kiss yet.

Why make a big deal out of it? You’ve also never been in love before. You didn’t feel the urge to inform everyone about these things, especially since most of your friends have a rather active dating life. You wanted to do these things at your own pace and didn’t want anyone involved in how you could “solve that problem”. You simply never intended on telling them. That is until last weekend happened and somehow your roommates were able to convince you to participate in a game of truth or dare.

It was a Thursday night and your roommate told you that they were having a few friends over for a cozy hang out and you were definitely down to chill with them because the both of you were friends with similar people and got along great in general, so having a few drinks with your friends in your dorm room seemed like a nice way to spend the evening.

And everything went smoothly enough, people were trickling in and out, the overall vibe very casual and comfortable. That is however until your friend Sofia suggested a game of truth or dare. To be fair, the overall intake of alcohol increased as the evening was progressing. It was almost inevitable that a suggestion like that would arouse sooner or later.

Before you even properly thought about it, you agreed to play and sat down in a circle with around five other tipsy college students.

Only later on did your brain register that Heeseung was one of the few chosen ones. For a split second you even wondered when he had arrived, but then you remembered that he greeted you with a friendly embrace when he first arrived about half an hour ago.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him participating in the same game, the both of you were friends after all.

You met Heeseung pretty much the first day college started, you were both in stats together and happened to be sitting next to each other on the first day and it’s been like that ever since. However, you guys didn’t hit it off right away, you were friendly with each other, sure, but that mostly also out of convenience and occasionally you shared your notes with each other or he was making sure you didn’t fall asleep in class. It was all really casual and you would have considered him more like a colleague than a friend.

That was the case until one particular night that was destined to shape the kind of friendship the two of you would have with each other forever.

It was one of your first frat parties, the first semester was about to end and freshmen with various kinds of majors gathered to celebrate this collective milestone. Safe to say the liquor was being poured without much hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve run into Heeseung at a frat party either. Usually you’d shoot each other the occasional nod, acknowledging the other’s presence and moving on with your night and that’s all there was to it.

However, fate had other plans for this particular night.

At one point you excused yourself from the dance floor and went out the back door into the small garden to catch some fresh air, to your surprise not many people were out there, just you and a small group of three people maybe, who seemed to be passing around a blunt.

It took you a second glance to not only see your roommate but also Heeseung being part of that group, your roommate immediately greeting you enthusiastically upon locking eyes with you and beckoning for you to sit with them.

Shortly after you were sitting on your ass, your roommate's arm interlocked with yours, being pulled into the conversation easily.

Heeseung sent a brief smile of acknowledgement your way, before taking a hit from the joint. You returned his smile and also greeted the fourth person sitting with you who was eventually introduced as Heeseung’s friend Jake.

The joint was being passed around and eventually landed in your hand as well and afterwards the conversation seemed to flow effortlessly. You joked and laughed along to whatever your company was saying but were also emerged in the more heated discussions.

At one point you were so deep into the conversation with Jake that you didn’t even realize your roommate getting up and going back inside and like ten minutes later, Jakes excused himself to the bathroom and didn’t seem to return anymore.

Which only left Heeseung and you.

Now, you’d be lying if you’d say being in such close proximity with a cute guy like Heeseung, all by yourselves in this somewhat intimate setting left you completely unaffected. You could feel yourself growing slightly flustered at nothing in particular, but you eventually catched yourself when Heeseung asked.

“So, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

You fell into comfortable conversation after that and the longer the night went on, the more intense the topics got.

Whenever you think back to that one particular part of the evening it kinda feels like Heeseung and you were the only two things existing at the moment. Your brain didn’t register the people stepping in and out of the garden as the hours passed by. 

It was well past 3am when you checked your phone for the time since sitting down. You told Heeseung and he was just as shocked as you were at how quickly the time had passed, almost apologizing for taking up so much of your time, but you assured him you were enjoying yourself.

“It has been a while since I sat down like that and was able to talk to someone for hours about whatever popped into my head.” You admitted to him and he seemed satisfied with that judging by the smile that graced his lips.

“Me too.”

And you could swear by the way his eyes shimmered in that moment that there was something – whatever that may have been – between the both of you. Or maybe it was just the weed.

Regardless of what you guys shared was something different than what you thought it might have been, you grew close very quickly after that evening. Heeseung started to joke around with you in class, you eventually asked him for his number and social media, he started sending you memes occasionally, you started to hang out outside of class in your little friend group.

At one point you were convinced he was actively seeking you out at parties, because ever since that evening, you always bumped into each other sooner or later during the night.

And whatever there might have been that one evening, nothing came of it. However, it almost seemed like you grew closer to Heeseung than all your other friends. People in your friend group would casually call you best friends and the more time passed the more that statement became true.

All occurrences in the past have led you to playing truth or dare on a Thursday night on the floor of your dorm room with each other. And usually that wouldn’t be an issue. Heeseung and you have progressed to a stage in your friendship where you knew almost everything about each other; almost.

You could feel the alcohol running in your system and were sincerely hoping you wouldn’t say something that you’d eventually regret. You just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best.

For the most part the game did run smoothly, it was fun and you had a good time, the only dare you had to do was show them your most embarrassing dance move.

That is until your roommate asked you truth or dare.

“Truth” you chose this time

“What was your first kiss like and who was it with?”

The question in and of itself was harmless, it matched the vibe of the very easy going game they had going on, Nonetheless, you felt put on the spot and before you could stop yourself – because you can’t pull off a lie for the life of you – you blurt out that you’ve never been kissed.

None of your friends seemed super unfazed by this seeing how you’ve not dated one person since you started college but Sofia’s eyes grew double in size.

“Not even a peck on the lips or something?” she questioned a bit bewildered.

You just shook your head, seeing from the corner of your eye how your roommate gave Sofia a light nudge at even asking such a question.

You couldn’t help but risk a short glance at Heeseung and were almost a bit startled when his eyes met yours instantly. He sent you a soft smile upon locking eyes with you. Was that pity you saw in his eyes? Your stomach turned itself upside down.

You really wish you could say it didn’t bother you at all, that at the age of 21 you’ve never kissed someone before. You didn’t want it to be a big deal, it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

But you couldn’t help but think that you lacked something or were one step behind everyone. It felt like missing out on an experience that usually people have in their late teens and early twenties.

You don’t know why it hasn’t happened for you yet. It’s not even that you want it to be with someone really special, the moment has simply never presented itself before and you usually take this for what it is, but right now – Heeseung’s expression burned into your skull – you suddenly feel a bit small.

“It’s not just that” you eventually start to break the silence, not yet realizing that you were about to make this so much worse, “it’s also the fact that even if I’d want to kiss someone, I wouldn’t know how.”

It took your drunken mind a hot minute to catch up with what you just said. Something within you simply wanted to fill the silence but the fact that your filter was basically non-existent due to your tipsy state was not taken into consideration the moment you opened your mouth.

You mentally slapped yourself across the face, this time not having the courage to even glance into Heeseung’s direction.

“It’s not that hard, I can show you!” Your roommate offered enthusiastically, intentions pure.

Your face flushed at the suggestion and you cringed a bit, more out of embarrassment that you ended up in this situation in the first place than by the proposal itself.

“I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that suggestion.” You reply as nonchalantly as you can muster.

It’s not like the thought of asking a friend how to properly kiss has occurred to you before, but you could never quite bring yourself to get the request past your lips.

Your friends laugh at your response and easily move on with the conversation, taking the attention off of you. And that was that. Or at least that’s what you thought…

Two weeks later you enter the lecture hall and already spot Heeseung sitting in his usual spot and just like on autopilot you placed yourself next to him and the both of you exchanged greetings, just like you usually would. You’d also catch up about your weekends and shortly after the lecture started, taking up both of your attention.

It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Heeseung poked your shoulder, extending his notebook to you, clearly wanting to show you something.

With blue ink he has written on the page:

“You want me to teach you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at what he meant.

You write down below him:

“Teach me what?” Confusion clear on your face as you watch him write something else.

“How to kiss”

You choked on your own spit.

Heeseung chuckled next to you. You could smack him across the head right now and you made a mental note to do just that once class is over.

Once you collected yourself, you took the pen from Heeseung and wrote three question marks under his proposal.

Why would he offer to teach you in the first place and out of all the places to suggest this to you he chose the middle of your lecture? Why?

He grinned at your question marks and if you didn’t know him any better you thought he was making fun of you. Had any other person done this to you, you’d probably actually have been hurt but first of all you still didn’t know if he was serious and second of all it was Heeseung. You knew him well enough to know he’d never use such a situation to make fun of you.

At that moment the professor seemed to notice your lack of attention and decided to ask you a question directly, returning your attention to the lecture where it stayed until you were dismissed.

The topic didn’t arise again between Heeseung and you even though the whole scenario didn’t seem to be able to leave your mind. At lunch you stared at Heesung making conversation with Jake over something you did not pay attention to, trying to figure him out.

In your head the puzzle pieces were just not fitting. Why would he suggest that all of a sudden? And why was it so hard for you to find an answer to his question…

After the whole frat party thing where you originally became friends, you had developed a small crush on Heeseung that gradually developed as time went by. It’s just after some time had passed and neither of you made any advances towards the other you eventually abandoned the idea of getting with Heeseung and were left with two options, getting over your crush or having to live with your unrequited feelings.

You chose the first option. It took you quite some time but you managed to accept the fact that Heeseung was simply a really good friend and your feelings faded as seasons changed.

You’d be lying saying they ever went away completely. There’s no reason denying that Heeseung was painfully your type and that no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like him like that anymore, you were attracted to him.

So, saying his suggestion to teach you how to kiss took you by surprise was the understatement of the century.

He probably just tried to be a good friend, right? Your roommate had suggested to teach you as well back then and there were no other intentions behind that, you were certain of that. So, why are you questioning Heeseung so much?

The topic didn’t come up again until one day you were hanging out in your dorm room. Just your roommate, Heeseung and yourself. It was often like that, sometimes Jake was also around but today it was just the three of you, that is at least until your roommate told you that they were heading out for dinner at around six and didn’t know when they’d be back.

Once they left, it was just Heeseung and you left.

Ever since he made his suggestion in class, you dreaded being alone with him, because you didn’t know if the topic would come up again or if you even wanted it to.

Heeseung was lying on your bed, his feet resting on your lap, while you were sitting at the end of the bed, back resting against the wall. Heeseung was scrolling through his phone when you decided to address the elephant in the room, because you figured if he wasn’t the one to bring it up, why shouldn’t you?

“Were you serious?” you simply said, not in any particular tone, just wanting to clear the haze in your head.

“Do you mean about the kissing thing?” He said without looking away from his face. The fact that he instantly knew what you were talking about indicated enough that he was aware it’s been eating at you.

You nod.

He locked his phone and threw it to the side, moving to sit up and also lean his back against the wall so that he can face you.

“I was and I still am.” He said, no trace of irony to be found.

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It seemed like it bothered you that day. You know, when you told everyone how you’re scared you’d mess up if it comes down to the real thing?”

He teased at you being so open due to liquid courage, a small smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I was put on the spot and that was the only thing my brain provided at the moment to fill the silence.” You whine more frustrated with yourself than anyone else.

“So, you’re not worried about that?” He asked in return.

It was silent for a moment as you contemplated his question. You could easily dig yourself a way out of this by denying it, convincing him it was mainly the liquor talking. But you and Heeseung were never really the type to lie to each other.

“I am” you eventually admit, not meeting his eyes “I don’t know… It’s a bit silly but like I don’t know anyone my age who hasn’t been kissed before and I feel like it’s gonna be really awkward if the situation arises and I chicken out because I have no idea how to actually kiss someone.”

Heeseung listened to you and took your words in before answering.

“But you know, most first kisses are kinda awkward, I think.”

“Was your first kiss weird at all?” You asked him.

“Yeah, very.” He chuckled, sitting up more on the bed, “it was kinda too much of everything, too much teeth, too much spit, just entirely too much.”

He shuddered a bit, recollecting his first kiss.

“See? And I’d have no idea about any of that.” You said almost a bit frustrated.

“Then let me show you.” He insisted, your eyes meeting.

The way he says it so casually makes you want to rip your hair out.

“It’s just a kiss, right? And it’s me! You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.” He said, eyebrows slightly raised, trying to ease your mind.

You look at him. He looks cozy in his oversized sweatshirt, his body language his usual relaxed self. It was still a bit fascinating how he could take this all so lightly but then again, it really was just a kiss for him.

And you know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t kiss Heeseung. In fact, your head is screaming at you not to kiss him, because the risk of buried feelings resurfacing is simply too big. But you’d also be lying to yourself if you’d say you weren’t curious what his lips would feel like against yours and it were thoughts like this that’d mean certain doom for you sooner or later.

At your silence Heeseung added “Look, there’s really no pressure at all. I just thought maybe you’d like to know a few things that will help ease your mind, but of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

And of course he would say that. Of course he’d go out of his way to reassure you that you’re safe with him and that he respected your choice no matter what. Maybe sharing your first kiss with Heeseung wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. At least like that you could make sure it’s someone who respects you and your boundaries, someone who makes sure you feel safe and comfortable no matter what.

Maybe you could allow yourself this. Maybe having this as the memory of your first kiss wasn’t too bad.

“Like, right now?” You asked, which seemed to surprise Heeseung a little. He must have been convinced you’d turn him down.

“I mean, whenever is fine.” He responded suddenly you could see his cool demeanor crack, spotting a few hints of nervousness behind the cracks.

“I think, I’d be down.” You eventually say after contemplating for another minute.

“Really?” Heeseung’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

“Lee Heeseung, if you tell me right now that all of this has been a sick joke of yours after all, I’m ending this friendship right now.”

Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! No, of course not. I was being serious. I just didn’t think…. I didn’t think you’d agree.” he admitted.

“So, how does this work?” you ask, not knowing where to even start.

“Oh, so you really want to do it right now, I see.” Heeseung mumbled more to himself than anyone in particular.

He scooted slightly closer to you.

“Well, first we gotta get closer.” He moves to sit next to you on the bed, shoulders touching.

You watch him, fascinated at how quickly his shyness has been replaced by his cool, nonchalant demeanours once again.

Heeseung and you have cuddled on more than one occasion before, but this feels different, you’re hyper aware of the place where his shoulder is bumping into yours and your tights are touching. This close, you could smell his cologne and shampoo.

“It’s not that complicated really” he starts explaining.

“If you want to just have a small, simple kiss. We’d both tilt our heads slightly as we get closer. Let me show you.”

He turns towards you, his eyes meeting yours. And you could swear there it was again. That shimmer from the first night the both of you actually talked to each other. You push that thought to the back of your head, the indications behind that too overwhelming for what’s about to happen right now.

His hand hovers above your cheek and you nod, allowing him to gently grab you by the jaw and tilt your head into one direction. The distance between his and your face shrinks as he does so, the pace of your heartbeat picking up in the process.

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke again.

“This is usually the point most people close their eyes and then you just… kiss.”

You close your eyes and a moment later you felt the sensation of Heeseung’s lips softly pressing against yours. All thoughts seem to leave your head the instant your lips touched, your heart basically beating out of your chest. It took you a moment to actually process the sensation and just as you were about to lose yourself in the feeling, Heeseung pulled back slightly.

“You know, this is the part where you kiss me back.” He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and maybe it was all in your head but you could swear his voice sounded different then just a second ago; a bit deeper, maybe even a bit flustered.

“My bad” you said, making Heeseung throw his head back with laughter, making you giggle as well.

It eases your anxiety a bit that even in stations like this, you were able to just laugh with him and easing the tension so easily.

“No worries” he laughed “Wanna try again?”

Again?

What did he mean again? Wasn’t that it?

Despite yourself, you nod.

“Okay, this time make sure to reciprocate the pressure I put against your lips, got it?”

“Got it” you kept your replies fairly short, afraid your voice would fail you otherwise.

Before you knew it, Heeseung was leaning in again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You close your eyes and soon after you feel the now familiar pressure of his lips again, this time making sure to kiss him back. Without thinking about it, your hand found its way onto Heeseung’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly played with hair as you were kissing him.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, you could feel Heeseung moving against you and followed his lead. It was easier to flow into the rhythm than you’d have thought, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

You were starting to feel lightheaded as he pulled away again and you had to resist the urge to chase after his lips.

“That was pretty good” he said, slightly out of breath, his pupils slightly dilated, his gaze fixed on your lips before he looked up at you.

“Also the thing you did with your hand, it seems like you’re a natural.” He chucked.

That’s when you saw your hand still resting against his neck, you instantly pulled it away once your brain caught up to what he was saying.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize…”

For a second there was a silence between the both of you; a silence that wasn’t quiet at all. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and neither could he. You could probably cut the tension with a knife.

“And what if… what if I’d want it to get more intense, you know?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shot up.

“More intense?” He said, knowing very well what you were implying.

“I get how just kissing someone on the lips like that might not be that hard but what if– what if it goes further?”

Heeseung cleared his throat at your words and sat up straighter.

“You mean, if you would want to deepen the kiss?” He inquired.

You just nod, looking up at him, not failing to notice the light blush that’s starting to form on his cheeks, matching your own flusteredness.

“You want me to show you as well?”

You nod. Something about how his lips feel against yours was addictive, making you throw all your previous reservations out of the window.

“It’s kinda hard to explain though. I’d just have to show you?” He said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay.”

“Okay so, basically you start with a kiss just like we shared before. You’ll just have to let me lead, okay?”

Something about the way he said that sent a shiver down your spine, words refusing to leave your mouth so you just nod.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours again and even though you were only separated for a few minutes, you already started to miss the sensation and the tingle it made you feel in your stomach and chest. Naturally, your hand found its way back into his hair.

Suddenly, you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip and your heart took a leap. Instinctively, you opened your mouth for him. A few moments pass and he starts licking gently into your mouth.

You actively have to suppress sounds that were starting to build in the back of your throat at the sensation.

You could also feel one of his hands pressing against your waist while the other one was busy cupping your cheek.

Without much thinking you pressed forward, wanting to match his eagerness, which led to your teeth clinking against each other to which Heeseung pulled back slightly, chuckling.

“Take it slow, yeah?” He said, his face still incredibly close to yours.

As you nod at his remark he dives back in, taking you by surprise a bit. You were welcoming the touch of lips nonetheless.

This time you tried to dial down your eagerness and gently let his tongue guide yours, your insides turning into mush in the process.

Without thinking you slightly pulled at his hair, making him hum against your lips. 

He must like that? you think to yourself. 

Your stomach did a 360 at the thought of stirring him on further.

At this point your tongues were dancing with each other gently, no trance of any kind of hesitation left, the feeling leaving your head dizzy and your heart fluttering.

The way Heeseung kept pulling you in by your jaw and how his grip on your hip was getting tighter.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.” He suddenly blurts out in between kisses and if you wouldn’t be so lost in the feeling of his lips on yours you’d stop to question his statement, but right now your heart simply leaped in your chest.

Overcome by a sudden wave of braveness, you swung one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. Heeseung looked at you starstruck, his hands instantly finding their way to your hips caressing them.

You took the time to look at him for a moment, his pupils were practically blown out and he looked so pretty with kiss swollen lips, glistering with both of your spit.

This was the first time you initiated the kiss, he easily reciprocated.

The kisses were sometimes still a bit sloppy but neither you nor Heeseung seemed to care, too lost in the feeling of each other’s bodies pressed against each other.

His hands were traveling up your sides and down your tights again and you were drowning in this feeling, of his hands touching you; exploring you. Soon enough, him trying to teach you how to kiss turned into a full on make out session.

That was until your roommate burst into the room without any announcement, making you jump off of Heeseung in an instant, cursing your body for immediately missing his closeness.

You both looked guilty and flustered as your roommate looked the both of you up and down.

“My bad, I’m just here to grab my charger. Continue with what you’ve been doing. It was only a matter of time until this happened anyway.”

They said and were gone as quickly as they had arrived.

You and Heeseung looked at each other for a second. Both of you burst into laughter shortly after.

“I think at some point we should really have a conversation about what exactly this is between us.” He gestured between the both of you after recovering from the sudden interruption.

And you were glad he brought it up because you think your heart would have been shattered into a hundred pieces if this didn’t have the same effect on him as it had on you; making your stomach flutter, turning your insides into mush, craving more.

“Better sooner than later, right?” you smile at him, hope filling your heart.

feel free to let me know your thoughts <3

[simpee9000]

Super random but I’m a writer and I’ve been stuck on an idea I can’t get going😅 if you’re willing to/interested I’d love to see what you can do with the idea. I’m a domestic kinda girly so don’t judge 🫣🤣

Idea:

Bakugo coming home to retired ex-hero wife who’s excited to tell him about the new recipe she learned or something like that and it makes him feel frisky because she’s still so devoted in everything she does it just all goes to him now

I can try! I'm really rusty at smut so bear with me here! (Don't ask me how I'm writing a smut story despite only writing it maybe three times before)

Despite the smut not being the best I hope I did well enough. I've never done a request before so this is a first! Thank you <3

Word Count 2k~ Smut, and slightest gore at the beginning

Katsuki Bakugo x retired pro hero reader

Your leg was blasted off from under you. Making you collapse as you buckled under your weight. A silent scream of pain coming from you. Landing onto your stomach before falling onto your side, confused from the amount of pain. Your hero suit was torn in every spot possible, ends being burnt off mid-thigh.

From the knee down your left leg was gone, the pure gore of it made you fall back, head on the ground as you stared up at the dusty sky. It is covered with debris and ashes from the collapsed buildings nearby.

It was a simple fire earlier, quickly turning south when a villain was found on the lower levels. Flattening all buildings nearby. Back-up was called of course, but they were far too late. You were basically gone the second you made contact with the villain. Getting thrown through several walls by an air quirk. Mind going fuzzy just from that, but to make matters worse, a grenade was thrown with you.

You heard the sounds of other heroes and took it as a sign to back down. Resting into the concert underneath you as you tried to stabilize yourself. Ultimately passing out from the pain.

-

Waking up in the hospital sent you on another trip, you thought you were gone. Dead. The haze that surrounded the hospital consumed you as you looked around. The sterile air, empty with chemicals that dried it up. Beeping coming from your heart monitor, a steady pulse made everything feel even more surreal.

Your arm was in a sling and your left leg was gone. Same as before you passed out. Your ribs hurt as you tried to breathe. Panicking from the pain, a doctor rushed in.

Telling you all the things wrong with you, all the options you had.

Nothing felt good enough. Your body was broken, caved in. You lost not only your leg but most of your mobility, everything hurt. You were told everything would continue to hurt. Physical therapy and healing quirks could only do so much.

You tried to listen as the doctor droned on and on about how they had the best doctors. How they could get you a prosthetic that could help you walk again.

The fact that you wouldn't be able to walk without it stunned you.

How could you ever continue to be a hero in this state? You knew Mirko had done it, even your teacher Aizawa did it. But this felt life-changing. It was life-changing.

You thought you died. You didn't want to die.

"Fucking hell," you turned your attention to Katsuki, who just barged in. Pausing in the doorway as he looked you over.

You could say something sappy and it'd be true. As you looked at him you thought over everything. Barely hearing the concerned questions he asked you before turning to the doctor.

Raising a kid as two pro heroes would be impossible. Katsuki and you wanted kids, you couldn't let them see you like this, or worse. They couldn't live without a mother or father.

You couldn't be a hero.

"I'll take a prosthetic," you spoke out finally.

They both looked at you, the doctor labeling your options, "There are a lot of good options for hero work-"

"I'll just have a normal one," you avoided looking at Katsuki, almost ashamed. You loved hero work. You loved saving people. Working harder each day alongside him as you aimed to be your best.

"Okay, I'll file the paperwork," the doctor excused himself, leaving the room to you and Katsuki.

He stared at you for a while, waiting for you to speak. "I think I'm done," you said softly, "All this hero work, consumes my life."

He grasped your hands in his, "Okay."

"I'm sorry, I know that's not what you wanted-"

"But it's what you want," he shot down your apology, "It's okay."

"I don't know what I'll do-"

"We'll figure it okay together," he got rid of your doubts, "I don't think I could stomach seeing you like this again anyway," he confessed.

-

Quitting was difficult, it changed your life drastically. You stayed home more often, picking up smaller hobbies that you never had time for before.

Reading more often, baking, cooking, you were even starting to learn how to crochet. You had so much time and it was freeing. Leaving you with a flexible schedule. Helping Katsuki out on cases he needed a second opinion on, or what event he should go for to help his publicity.

Devoting your time to things you loved freely, rather than just hero work. You missed it sometimes, after all, you have been doing it since you were 15 and only stopped a year ago when you were 26.

It made things easier, schedule easily aligning with Katsuki and giving you more time with the spikey blonde. More time together allowed you to get closer, him engaging on your three-year anniversary.

You thought about your wedding, planned for next year, as you flipped through your new recipe book. Stumbling on a delicious-looking meal that you thankfully had all the ingredients for. Grabbing the ingredients absent-mindedly as you thought about the type of wedding you'd have.

Katsuki didn't care much, telling you to go nuts with it. His mom wanted to help though, and you warmly welcomed it. Excited to be close to his family at any opportunity.

Cutting each ingredient carefully as you mix it into the full meal. Humming in thought when you heard Katsuki's keys on the other side of the front door.

He walked into the kitchen after smelling your cooking, every day you offered him a new meal. He loved that you shared this hobby with him.

"What y'making?" he walked behind where you stood at the stove. Wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his chin into your shoulder, looking at what you were doing.

"I just found a new recipe! The cookbook I bought has so many good things," you shared excitedly, "Lots of protein and vegetables, just the way you like it."

"I fuckin' love you," he kissed your neck and hugged you tighter.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a hand towel and wiping your hands off before you turned in his grip, wrapping your arms around his neck. He had his hero mask pushed up over his eyes, holding his hair back. "How was work?" you asked, swaying lightly with him.

"Work," he replied back, leaning down to kiss you.

Your lips connected for a moment before you pulled back, "You need a shower," you tried to smack away the taste of charcoal that was left on your lips. Concerned about how he even had that happen.

He rolled his eyes, squeezing at the fat of your hips, "As long as you join me?"

You looked over your shoulder and at the food, "I don't know, food just got done."

Without another word he pulled away from you and grabbed a pan lid, placing it over the pan filled with food and taking it off the heat. "We'll reheat it later, let's go," he grabbed your hand and put you in front of him as he walked behind you to the shower.

You giggled as you matched the forced pace he was making you walk, "Impatient much?" you teased.

He didn't answer, just pulled his shirt right off your body. He stared at it enough already and wanted more. He groaned when he noticed you were only wearing panties, the cheeky ones that he loved. "Fuckin' knew today was gonna be a good day," he mumbled before kissing you roughly, scaling kisses down your neck and onto your chest. He didn't seem like he could be happier at the fact you weren't wearing a bra, pressing kisses at every bare inch of you.

Nipping at your bud before sucking your tit into his mouth. His hand taking care of the other. "Kats," you whined, pulling him away by his hair when he mumbled a 'what' into your chest, "Shower."

Reluctantly he pulled away, flipping the shower on before ripping his shirt off, pushing his pants and boxers off as well. His hairband had fallen off when he was kissing you earlier. Despite being with him for three years, you still flushed at him bare.

He was built amazingly, sheer hard work sculpted him into a Greek god. You watched his arm ripple in muscle as he checked the temperature of the water before moving to grab you and push you into the water with him. Connecting your lips once in.

"I mean it Kats," you pushed his chest away, making his hair start soaking with water, "Shower."

Making a show of following your orders, he quickly washed his hair. Probably taking the fastest shower of his life before taking his time to run the soap over your body. Not nearly as rough as he washed his own. Kissing your shoulder blade before washing your back, "Beautiful," he murmured into your skin.

You twisted in his hold, deciding you were clean enough before you leaned into him locking his lips in a passionate kiss. You were only human after all, it's impossible to refuse him for long

Bringing your hands up to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer to your height. Easing the strain on the prosthetic, thankful that it was waterproof.

He took anything you gave him, following your lead as you backed yourself into the shower wall. His hands grabbed at your thighs and lifted you, pressing you into the cold tile as he held you up. Kissing his marks over your chest. Layering over where he had already kissed.

"I love you so fucking much," he murmured into your skin, taking a moment to back away and look over you. Soaking in the look you were giving him, full of devotion.

"I love you more," you whispered in reply, pulling him into another kiss. Leaving him to squeeze your thigh, frustrated that you shut him up with a kiss.

He pushed you more into the wall with one hand while he moved his other between you. Trailing it between your folds "It's been too fucking long," he groaned when he felt you, wet and wanting him.

"Can I just have you?" you whined, moving your hand into his hair and pulling desperately. He'd tease you for hours if he could. And with the colding temperature of the water, you couldn't handle that.

"Need me that bad?" he smirked down at you, circling his fingers over your clit meanly.

"Please?"

He wasn't lying when he said it had been too long. The second he gave in and lined himself up, the strain of just his tip was enough to force your head back. The push of him into you felt relieving, it was something you had missed without even knowing.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, head falling into your shoulder as he stilled. Letting you adjust for just a moment before he pulled his hips back. Slowly building pace as he works you both up to the climax.

Breaths tangled together as the steam from the shower clouded your vision.

Your hands were moving over his back and up his shoulders, trying to steady yourself despite his constant thrusts. Knocking the breath out of you each time.

His hand stayed on your clit, moving in sharp circles over you as he knew he wouldn't last. He hasn't had you in so long and wouldn't be held back. Yet he wouldn't be the only one to cum.

He was already close, he was worked up the second he saw you in the kitchen. Seeing you in your home together, cooking for him while wearing his clothes. It made him feel like everything would be okay, he had you. Everything was an effort together rather than alone, and he welcomed it.

The small grunts and moans he was making right next to your ear was sending you up the wall.

"Gonna cum baby? Feel y'fuckin' squeezing me," he panted, working his hips harder into his. You whined in reply, nodding your head frantically. He knew all your spots, bullying his cock straight into your spot.

He felt like he was falling in love all over again any time he looked at you, even now. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and your head lolled back, your body relying on him to stay upright as you blabbed for more. Knowing he'd give anything to you if you just asked. Your legs locked around him when you came, completely losing yourself in his hold as he worked his dick into you. Groaning at you tightening around him before he gave in and met you where you were.

Filling you up, not caring if it got you pregnant or not at this point, he knew everything would be fine.

You looked fucked out, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him, he was melting inside. Reluctantly letting you gain your footing back and letting you clean yourself fully.

It was a blur of a shower afterward. He could only focus on you, mind filled only with love as he crowded you after you dried off.

"You okay, kats?" You spoke softly as you hugged him back.

"Just fuckin love you, got an issue?" he snapped back as he hugged you tighter. He was just as devoted to you as you were to him, even if he didn't always get the time to prove it.

(I'm very meh about this work but I decided to post it anyway, I need to write more and challenge myself. If you have any ideas or requests you should send them in, I'll try to write them!)

You should read my Bakugo x reader if you liked this work!

[topgun-imagines]

Permanent State of Oblivion

Requested: yes

Summary: Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the Hard Deck.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: drinking, arguments, angsty feelings.

Pairings: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader

“I just- I don’t know what to do about him, Nat.” You were seated across from Natasha on her bed, hand in hers as she worked on your nails. One well-kept secret about Phoenix was that she was incredibly talented in nail art; a secret that you regularly capitalized on as her best friend. She often used you for practice, like she was doing right now. Silently, the pilot nodded, used to your ranting about Bradley by now. “He’s just so- so oblivious.”

Unbeknownst to Bradley, you’d had a massive crush on him for months. You had been friends with the mustached pilot for nearly three years. He was an amazing friend, and in that department, you couldn’t ask for more. The only issue that you had was that apparently, Bradley was blinder than a bat. No matter how hard you tried or how obvious you made it, Bradley never picked up on your crush on him.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind that your feelings remained a secret, however; your feelings had reached the point where you knew they weren’t going away anytime soon. The only option left was to try and tell Bradley how you felt.

Painting one of the roses on your nails, Nat weighed in on the situation. “He’s an idiot.” Her choice of words had you stifling a giggle, receiving a playful glare when your hand twitched. You murmured an apology as she continued. “The only way he’s gonna realize how you feel is if you’re straightforward about it.”

A groan bubbled out of your chest. You hated confrontation. Surely if Bradley was smart enough to be in the top one percent of all naval aviators, he was smart enough to realize your feelings for him. Right?

“I know, I know,” You started, “I just wish he could open his eyes for once.”

“Maybe if he shut his mouth for once his eyes would have some room to work,” Phoenix muttered, knowing exactly how stubborn the pilot was. The two of you descended into giggles as Natasha finished off your nails.

Before you knew it, the two of you were in your car, blasting music as you drove to the hard deck. Jake had organized a night out for the group, and the two of you certainly weren’t ones to pass on a fun night out with friends. As Natasha hadn’t hesitated to point out, maybe you would finally get the chance to tell Bradley how you felt.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked beside Jake’s truck. The two of you hopped out and headed into the bar, already plotting what interesting drink orders you could try and get Penny to make this time. The second you stepped into the bar, you were greeted loudly by the group of aviators. With large smiles, you and Phoenix joined the group and were quickly pulled into whatever idiotic story Jake was telling. Unsurprisingly, your eyes quickly found Bradley.

Phoenix pretended that she couldn’t see how your stare lingered on your coworker. While you knew that Phoenix knew, you were oblivious to the fact that Jake and Bob had also figured out your little secret. Natasha forbade them from saying anything or trying to persuade Bradley into doing anything stupid. God only knows that if they told that fool to make a move on you he’d find some way to mess it up.

As Jake rambled on about some hilarious incident from his recent vacation back in Texas, you couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if you told Bradley the truth. Honestly, you were tired of wasting time. You didn’t want to miss out on anything anymore. Even if Bradley didn’t feel the same, you needed to know. At least then you would be able to move on knowing that nothing could ever happen between the two of you.

Natasha’s elbow in your side pulled you out of your depressing thoughts. She fixed you with a knowing look, leaning over to whisper in your ear as the rest of the group dispersed at the end of Jake's story. “Tell him,” she urged you quietly. “We both know that he’ll never figure it out on his own.” And with that, you mustered up all the courage that you could before disappearing into the crowd to find Bradley.

Suddenly, Bob and Jake popped up over Natasha’s shoulder. “Twenty bucks says the dumbass still finds a way to screw it up.” Bob and Natasha hummed in agreement.

By the bar top, you were just about to call out to Penny to ask where Bradley was when you spotted it; a brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt and a pornstache that could put all the rest to shame. It took a couple of minutes of maneuvering through the intoxicated crowd, but eventually, you were standing right behind him. At the soft tap on his shoulder, Bradley spun quickly, surprised to find you standing there.

“Hey Bradshaw,” you started, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He nodded for you to continue. “I just wanted to tell you that-” Before you could finish your sentence, you were interrupted by some blonde winding her arms around his shoulders and peppering kisses up the side of his neck. Your words died in your throat as you started at the scene in front of you. Bradley didn’t even try to push her off. You felt sick to your stomach.

Noticing the tears welling in your eyes, the blonde smirked. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” She sounded innocent, as if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing by trailing her finger across his chest and sucking a mark into the skin of his neck. You could only shake your head, feeling bile rise in your throat. The room suddenly seemed hot; you were desperate to find a way out of there. Before you knew it, you were shoving your way through the crowd and out the door of the bar.

With the blonde still clinging to his side, Bradley looked around the room in confusion. He met Natasha’s stern gaze and instantly knew that he had screwed it up somehow. Bradley huffed and pushed the blonde off of him, rolling his eyes at the scoff she let out. Then he was following after you, leaving the chaos of the bar behind him as he chased you into the parking lot. “Hey!” He called out, hand grasping your wrist. “What the hell is your problem?”

You jerked your wrist out of his hand and spun to face him angrily. Your face was hot with anger and Bradley could have sworn he saw steam coming from your ears. Despite all this, he could see tears welling in your eyes. “My problem?” You seethed, stepping dangerously close to him and jabbing a finger into his chest. “My problem, Bradshaw, is that you’re ignorant enough to let that- that slut hang off your arm without a care in the world!”

It killed you to see him standing there with her, but what was worse than all of that, was the fact that he didn’t care in the slightest. It’s not like she was someone he was seeing; she was just a random face in the bar. Somehow, that made things worse to bear.

Bradley scoffed and dismissively shoved your finger away from his chest. “Why the fuck do you care?” You could only stare at him, searching for the words he wanted to hear. “That chick had nothing to do with you, and you know that so what the fuck is your problem?” He paused, his words cutting deep as you searched for a response.

Behind him, the bar door opened revealing Jake, Bob, and Natasha. They watched silently as you continued to rip into each other.

“You know what, you fucking dick?” You were close to him once more; so close that you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You are the most ignorant, self-absorbed person I have ever met.” With each accusation, you drove your finger into his chest harder, despite his attempts at brushing it off. “You are so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you don’t even notice who you’re hurting!”

You had never spoken to him like this before. Sure, there had been little arguments here and there, but the rage that he saw in your eyes now was something new entirely. A single, angry tear dripped down your face. “You don’t think about anyone besides yourself! You certainly don’t care about them. And believe me, Bradshaw, you have made that more than obvious.”

The pilot in front of you scoffed once more, having no retort for your deep jab at his character. Of course, he cared for the people around him, and for you to suggest otherwise was, in his mind, unfathomable.

However, you didn’t stop there. “You are absolutely unbelievable! You are so oblivious it’s painful, Bradshaw. You must have your head stuck up your ass to miss every single hint I’ve been giving you for months!” You paused for a moment, waiting for Bradley to interject.

He didn’t, refusing to believe anything you said to be true. There was no way that you could have feelings for him. Was there?

He shook his head in annoyance. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he pointed out, hating how easily you were able to sidestep it. “Why the fuck do you care who I flirt with?” His voice was loud, even scaring those watching from the front steps of the bar. Bradley figured that you were probably having a bad day and had taken your anger out on him. Even though he hoped that this wasn’t the case and that you actually did care about who was flirting with him. It was wishful thinking; to imagine that you would ever see him as anything more than an annoying friend. He was sure of it.

You could only groan angrily with tears still tracking down your skin. “Jesus, Bradshaw, because I love you, you fucking idiot!” It was as if time stood still. That was what it felt like as you watched Bradley process the reality of the words that you had just shouted at him. No movement came from the pilot in front of you; the only sign of life being the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. There was no way it could be true. There was no way that a kind-hearted, sweet girl like yourself could ever fall for anyone as messed up as him. To Bradley, the mere idea of you having feelings for him was unfathomable.

For months, he had watched you from afar, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He slowly began to learn what you loved, from your favourite song to sing along to when you were drunk at 2 am to your favourite flavour of ice cream. Bradley learned what made you laugh until your stomach hurt and what made you cry until your cheeks were stained. He knew every little thing about you but he never acted on it, in fear that you would never feel the same. To know that all this time, you had feelings for him as well, was surreal.

The deafening silence grew between the two of you, moving until it encompassed the bystanders waiting in front of the bar with bated breath. Continuing to stare at the pilot, your mind was running a million miles a minute. What had you just done? Sure, the two of you were arguing, but that was no reason to bear your true feelings to the man. What if he didn’t feel the same? You were convinced that this had to be the case when he refused to move a muscle.

“Bradley,” you whispered, nerves showing through the shake in your voice. “Please, say something.” Your mind plagued you with thoughts of the worst-case scenario. You were fully expecting him to turn around and storm off, refusing to ever speak to you again. With tears filling your eyes once more, you pleaded one last time. “Bradl-”

Your eyes widened as Bradley cut you off in a way you would have never expected. In one fluid, sudden motion, Bradley had lunged toward you, his lips moulding softly with yours. His hands cradled your waist, holding you as if you were a delicate flower. You could have sworn you heard yourself squeak but honestly, you were too overwhelmed to tell.

As Bradley continued to kiss you gently, your eyes fluttered shut. You became lost in the feeling of his hand caressing your side. His pinky finger slipped under the hem of your top, drawing a light gasp from your lips. The kiss deepened as Bradley pulled you towards him by your waist and as your hand worked into his soft curls at the base of his neck.

A soft giggle slipped past your lips as that familiar pornstache that you were used to making fun of was now tickling your upper lip. The pilot smiled into the kiss at the feeling, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours lovingly mere seconds later. “Does that answer your question?” He whispered, causing more giggles to flow from your mouth. You could only nod, still starstruck by the actions of the man holding you.

For the second time this evening, you were close enough to the pilot that you were able to smell his breath. While the faint scent of alcohol was still present, you were now able to pick up the familiar scent of your strawberry lip gloss. One glance at his parted lips was enough for you to see the slight pink hue that your lip gloss caused him.

There was a lovestruck smile on his face; a stark contrast to the anger shining in his eyes merely twenty minutes ago. Admiration shone in his eyes as he looked down at you. While he knew that he never stated it clearly, he was in awe of the wonderful woman that you were. As he thought about how perfect you were, guilt for the way he spoke to you before began to eat at him.

He cleared his throat, needing to make amends for his actions. “Seriously, though,” He started, eyes softening as he recalled the events from earlier. “I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier. What I said was completely uncalled for and out of line.” The corners of your mouth twitched up in a forgiving smile as you reached up to stroke the corner of his mustache with your thumb. Bradley wrapped you up in his arms, rocking the two of you softly. “I love you so, so much, baby girl.”

Your hand trailed from his soft cheek to the back of his neck as he shifted the two of you, fingers once again threading through the short curls. Warm, ocean air breezed past the two of you as Bradley held you close. Behind you, the sun was setting beautifully over the ocean. It painted the parking lot with a soft, pink glow. No matter how many sunsets you had seen before, for some reason, this one was the most beautiful. It was almost as if the beauty of the sunset reflected your feelings for each other. Despite the rocky road that it took you to get here, no moment had ever seemed as perfect as this one.

Unsurprisingly, your moment of bliss was quickly interrupted by the other aviators waiting at the steps of the bar. Your friends gradually made their way closer, unable to contain their questions and comments any longer. You felt Bradley sigh into the skin of your neck before he kissed it softly, causing butterflies to swarm in your chest. With your head still tucked into his chest, you felt a blush begin to creep up your neck at the realization that your friends had likely watched the whole event unfold. Despite the flush in your cheeks, you still made eye contact with each of them, dreading the inevitable bombardment of questions that were bound to come.

Even as you stood in front of your friends, ready to explain the rollercoaster of a scene they just witnessed, Bradley’s arms remained wound around your waist. His thumb moved over the bare skin of your side softly, leaving goosebumps in his wake. “No need to explain.” Nat offered with a reassuring smile. She could sense that you were hesitant to have to explain it all so quickly. Plus, she knew that she would get the details soon enough.

Together, Bob, Jake, and Nat offered you their congratulations before turning to head back to the bar. With his arm still around your waist, you and Bradley follow your friends in sync with each other. Your still-rosy cheek rested against his broad shoulder.

Jake wasted no time in collecting his winnings from the previous bet, pumping his fist in the air as Bob and Nat each handed Jake a 20. In the back of your mind, you briefly wonder why they handed him the cash in the first place. Once the five of you re-entered the air-conditioned comfort of the bar, Jake turned to you and Bradley, announcing that drinks were on him with that familiar, shit-eating grin on his face. That alone should have been enough to tell you that there was more to the story than you suspected.

Despite the weariness in both yours and Bradley’s minds, if Jake was offering to buy your drinks, who were you to turn it down? Just as you were about to take a sip of your beer, Bob piped up. “He bet you’d screw it up,” He quipped, grinning at the mixture of betrayal and shock written on Jake’s face that instantly took over his previous cocky expression. Within seconds Bradley had smacked his arm. While he was slightly annoyed that Jake had bet against him, he was more upset about the fact that he allowed Jake to win.

Bob and Phoenix continued to laugh at Jake’s dejected expression as you and Bradley watched fondly. The aviator pulled you into his side with gentle movements and your head fell onto his shoulder the second you were snuggled up against him.

In a state of bliss, you allowed your eyes to slip shut. You could only savour the feeling of being held in the arms of the man you loved. Tucked into Bradley’s side, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Turning his head, Bradley pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, which caused a glowing smile to blossom on your face. A giggle escaped you at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, leading to a smile mirroring your own taking over his sculpted features.

Sure, it had been a rocky road to get here, but you would do it all over again if it meant feeling like this for a moment longer. You loved Bradley, and it brought you more relief than one could ever imagine to know that he felt the same for you.

Simply put, you were ecstatic. Ecstatic that you no longer had to keep your feelings a secret. Ecstatic that you could see a future blossoming between you and Bradley. Despite not knowing what that future held, you were positive that you and Bradley would be together for a long, long time to come.

However, one thing was for certain; Bradley Bradshaw was the most oblivious man you knew.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. I’m excited to be back <3

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: boyfriend!mingyu & bf'sbestfriend!wonwoo, smut, afab reader, cucking (idk if this is the right term honestly), penetrative sex, mentions of oral, pov switches to wonwoo's pov like three paragraphs in, this is mostly wonwoo x reader ngl, etc.

part 2

wc: 3343

a/n: this is a continuation to mingyu's part of this reaction !!

masterlist

you'd known wonwoo for a good while now. being mingyu's girlfriend for over a year, you'd grown used to the company of his roommate, who was usually around whenever you'd go visit mingyu at their shared apartment.

it was easy to get along with wonwoo. he was an easy-going guy and also easy on the eyes, and just overall likable. you liked to think that the feeling was mutual, wanting to get along well with mingyu's best friend. you'd occasionally hang out one on one whenever you'd incidentally arrive to mingyu's apartment early, only to be let in by wonwoo. he was a gentleman, so he'd entertain you during mingyu's absence, telling you stories about the boy and at some points discussing shared interests with you.

what you didnt know was that wonwoo did like you. more than you wouldve hoped, actually.

wonwoo had known you for as long as mingyu, having been there when the two of you first met. the three of you had started off as simple acquaintances, up until mingyu decided he just had to have you, thus making you his. wonwoo had been happy for his friend, knowing mingyu to be a hopeless romantic at heart. yes, he admits, he mightve been attracted to you when you first met, but he quickly got over it upon finding out his best friend had a crush on you, even encouraging him to ask you out. having you in his immediate life proved to be interesting. it turned out that you two had a lot in common, with your personalities even aligning perfectly. that mightve explained why he was mingyu's best friend and you his best friend's girlfriend. mingyu clearly had a type.

over time, as wonwoo got to know you better, his long-gone crush seemed to want to make a comeback. what had previously been just physical attraction had turned into something more upon getting to know you. nothing ever happened to trigger his feelings, but there was only so much of your constant proximity that he could handle before his feelings resurfaced. which is where he now found himself. crushing on his best friend's pretty girlfriend, forced to occasionally join in on your dates as the perpetual third wheel.

despite any of his unreasonable emotions, he knew the feeling was not mutual, and more than that, he would never do that to his best friend. so, he did what any reasonable person would do and shoved his feelings deep within him, internally slapping himself any time his head went places it shouldn't. but that could only last so long.

it was a regular day. wonwoo had gone to the company, done his usual idol business and come back, now awaiting mingyu's arrival. except wonwoo was met with your presence instead. wonwoo had been expecting mingyu, remembering that he had told the boy about a movie they should watch together as soon as they had some extra down time. that day being today, now that they were finally back from promotions in japan and could go back to their regular schedules. he opened the door after hearing a few knocks, assuming mingyu mightve misplaced his keys again. except he was not met with his six foot tall friend upon opening the door, but instead you. it had been a while since he'd seen you. hell, it had probably been a while since mingyu had seen you. theyd just been so busy lately. he let you in, muttering a quick 'hello', avoiding eye contact a bit and stepping aside to allow you in. before he could close the door back up, you stopped him.

"oh, wait. gyu's coming up. he got us food for the movie!"

oh. had mingyu asked you to join?

his face mustve told on him, since you spoke up again almost immediately.

"is it okay im here? i can go, i know you guys are tired, i-"

the last thing he wanted you to feel was unwelcome. his stupid crush shouldnt get in the way of what was now a friendship between the two of you.

"no! stay, please. do you guys want privacy? we just came back, you must wa-"

this time you interrupted him. "no, not at all! stay, please. i love hanging out with you, nonu, you know that."

calling him by a cute nickname was not helping this for wonwoo, nor was the pretty smile you were throwing him. but he'd have to sit through an entire movie night like this, he realized.

the following thirty or so minutes went the way you'd imagine. mingyu had arrived soon after, with way too much food for three people and prepared the perfect setting for an enjoyable night between the three. wonwoo could tell his friend was beaming at the thought of finally spending a relaxing night with his two favorite people. this made him feel guilty, but he had to admit, he felt the same giddyness at the concept. in logical fashion, you and mingyu sat next to each other, slightly cuddled up while wonwoo sat on the smaller couch right next to the two of you. the three of you watched the movie for a little while, only ever speaking up every once in a while to comment on the movie. things went like this until mingyu suddenly spoke up, clapping his hands as if he suddenly remembered something.

"won! i almost forgot!", he paused the movie, sitting up from leaning against you, "i told y/n id show her the pictures we took in japan, come here!", his friend seemed so overly excited at the idea, almost vibrating as be waited for wonwoo to come sit next to him.

wonwoo made the mistake of moving his eyes a little to the left while looking at his friend, only to catch your expectant gaze as you also waited for him to close the distance. but it was enough to get him to get up and take a close seat next to mingyu, making the tall man the only separation between you and him.

mingyu had already pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery and stopping every few seconds to explain where the picture was, who took it and why they had edited it the way they did. he explained every minor detail while you looked at him, full attention on him. wonwoo liked that about you. it was something you did when speaking to him too. you'd always show full interest, even sharing a passion for photography and editing as he did. there had been occasions in which wonwoo himself had shown you his photography, only to be always met with praise and genuine curiosity at his skill.

they both explained the pictures, with mingyu holding the phone at an angle where both you and wonwoo could see the screen perfectly. mingyu had full control of the phone, not thinking much as he stopped by every single picture and made a few comments, allowing space each time for wonwoo's own commentary and your praise of their skills. it was a heartwarming moment for wonwoo, really. until it turned into a moment that warmed something else in him.

mingyu, in his overexcited state, was clearly not thinking much of it as he swiped picture after picture, not realizing that if he scrolled too far, he'd end up where he was now.

it was a picture of you. a very pretty picture, if wonwoo had anything to say about it. you were laying in what he could only assume to be mingyu's bed, shirt off and very very cute sheer panties covering your lower half. your face wasnt in it, only your lips. but your body was practically on full display. wonwoo had to commend you for your artistic eye. that picture could cause any man to swim across the pacific ocean just to see the contents of it in the flesh. or at least thats how wonwoo felt in that moment. time felt frozen as he stared at the image. silence had filled the room as none of you reacted. until mingyu finally unfroze, locking his phone and throwing it on the table, cursing loudly at his mistake. but the damage had been done.

wonwoo felt ashamed at his current state. he couldnt look up, only staring down at his lap as he thought of the image that was now imprinted in mind. why did he have to see that? his crush on you was already getting out of hand. there was no way be could ever look you in the eye again. but his brain, once more, betrayed him. he looked up slowly, instantly meeting your gaze. you looked as flustered as he felt, eyes widened and cheeks flushed. fuck. your face reminded him of one he had seem before. a few months back when he'd accidentally bumped into you after what he couldve only assumed to be a night well-spent with his best friend, same flushed cheeks and widened eyes, except this time you were missing the disheveled look you had carried that time.

you and wonwoo seemed unable to break eye contact, with both your gazes becoming heavier by the second. what had felt to wonwoo like minutes of agony staring into your eyes were only a few seconds to mingyu, who immediately spoke up after having thrown his phone on the table.

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry, i-" he had turned his body towards you, emphasizing how badly he felt at the position he put you under, but your eyes hadnt left wonwoo's, nor had his left yours.

you interrupted him, only breaking eye contact with wonwoo for a few seconds. "it's okay, gyu," your eyes now facing wonwoo again, "right, nonu?", your voice was sultry, only tightening up his pants even more than the initial shock of the image had.

"y-yeah."

mingyu seemed to catch on quickly after that, almost as if he'd been expecting this. he turned to his friend, still not 100% certain, "wonwoo. are you sure?"

there had been nothing wonwoo had ever been more sure about it. he broke eye contact with you for the first time in the past minute and responded, "yes."

~

"there's gonna be rules, okay?"

the three of you were now in mingyu's (and practically your) room, still fully clothed but all on the bed, already completely out of breath from the mere thought of what was about to happen. wonwoo felt like an animal. he felt himself have to put physical effort into holding back from jumping you. the way you'd been looking at him for the past while had him going insane, knowing now that the feeling was mutual.

"what are the rules?", wonwoo's eyes were still on you.

"any-" mingyu was about to speak when you interrupted him, still holding onto wonwoo's full attention.

"anything goes, except no marks and you have to be willing to share me. gyu's a bit possessive, right baby?", you stated matter-of-factly, almost in a rehearsed manner.

"wait. you've discussed this before?"

mingyu neared you, beginning to undress you from behind, giving wonwoo the perfect view of your clothing disappearing. 'we have. you're not exactly subtle, hyung.'

what? had you two known about his crush on you this whole time? he was so sure he'd kept it at bay almost expertly. had he just been embarrassing himself this whole time?

"its okay, nonu. we've discussed this. we're okay with it if you are. right, gyu?", you looked over your shoulder at the man who had now removed your shirt and shorts, leaving you in panties and a bra, much to wonwoo's dismay.

"i- are you sure? what does this mean? you-"

"hyung, dont over think it. you want her, dont you? you're my best friend, im willing to share."

well, what kind of fool would argue with that logic?

wonwoo decided to take advantage of the opportunity while it was there, approaching you as mingyu stepped aside, undressing his own self as he watched you and wonwoo.

wonwoo was entirely unsure of himself, not knowing how or where to begin. luckily for him, you seemed to take pity on him, grabbing his arms and placing them on your waist, pulling him closer to you.

"you dont have to be nervous. i want you too," you smiled sweetly at him, lifting his chin so he would look at you.

the proximity made him heat up, almost forgetting his friend, who had now sat down on the bed, perfect angle to watch him and you.

you leaned up slowly, lightly placing your lips on wonwoo's in a sweet peck. wonwoo sighed against your lips at this, letting his shoulders fall from their rigid posture and leaning against you, opening his lips a bit. you took advantage of this, meekly slipping your tongue inside his mouth as he tightened his hands around your waist, allowing his own tongue to play with yours.

kissing you was something he had imagined before; never too vividly out of respect for his best friend, but it was something he had wanted to do, never thinking he'd actually get to.

you and him kissed softly for a while, until you seemed to grow frustrated at the light kisses and began to incite him for more. your kissing became rougher, nibbling at his lower lip and sucking at his tongue, rendering him lightheaded. he moaned against your mouth, beginning to match your pase. he moaned even louder the moment he felt your hands guide his own to your breasts, which were now bare. when had you taken your bra off ..? it didn't matter, really. now he could feel the pebbles on your chest against his palms, pinching at them as you mewled softly into bis mouth. all that could be heard was the smacking of your mouths, along with the soft breaths you kept taking against each other, utterly pleased at the feeling of the softness of the other's lips.

until mingyu interrupted.

suddenly soft moaning could be heard from beside them. wonwoo reluctantly pulled away from you, looking to the side, only to find his best friend with his eyes closed, head thrown back as he had his hand under his boxers, clearly getting off at the sounds of the two of you. you didnt stop kissing wonwoo in the meantime, insistent on licking and biting softly against his neck. the softness of your touches was making wonwoo go insane. he was no longer himself, but more of a shell of what used to be, wanting to give you all control of his pleasure. which he did.

he allowed you to undress him slowly, running your hands slowly up and down his chest, kissing at him every time you uncovered a new bit of skin. you bit and licked at his nipples, making wonwoo discover a sensitive spot he didnt even know about.

he enjoyed your attentiveness, but felt a small tug in the back of his mind at the thought of your boyfriend sitting nearby, simply watching.

"gyu, baby," you finally said after having laid wonwoo down on the bed, sitting on top of him while looking to the side at your boyfriend, "how do you wanna do this?"

wonwoo simply sat there, afraid that if he said anything he'd break the spell. he was willing to take whatever you gave him. he was already addicted to the sight of your bare body on top of him, somehow beating the picture he had seen just twenty minutes ago.

"do whatever you want, baby. have your fun n then ill eat his cum out of you n fill you with mine, sound good?", he slurred, seemingly rubbing at himself at a snail pace in order to savor the sight in front of him.

in any other instance, wonwoo wouldnt have understood why mingyu was getting off at the sight of his best friend and his girlfriend fucking, but it was you. wonwoo would also give anything to see you in the throes of passion from a third person perspective, so he felt no judgement for his friend as he practically tuned him out.

"you heard him, nonu. how do you want me?", you asked sweetly, caressing his skin softly while stopping to rub at his nipples every once in a while.

wonwoo was fucked. he felt the ability to speak leave him completely. he was rendered completely useless, a doll for you to play with however you wanted. but his sight right now was one he wanted to commit to memory, so mustering all his willpower, he lifted his hands and placed them on your hips, pressing you closer against him.

"like this, baby. please," that earned a whine from gyu, who was still self-inflicting the most painful pleasure imaginable by edging himself at the sight of you.

he humphed at wonwoo, "no! get a different pet name. shes my baby."

wonwoo chuckled at this, but nodded over at his friend. "fine. like this, princess. yeah?"

you nodded at wonwoo, quickly adjusting yourself so you could easily slip him inside you, but only after being interrupted by mingyu again, reminding you to slip on a condom, "because you were only his to fuck raw."

"gyu, baby. like this? have a good angle? need me to move?"

"no, baby. you're perfect. now bounce on him for me, yeah? wanna see my pretty girl feel good," all his words were slurred, going on almost ten minutes of watching yours and wonwoo's foreplay.

"'kay baby. are you ready, nonu? wanna feel me?", you leaned down to kiss at him again, seemingly loving the feeling of your lips connecting as much as wonwoo did.

he nodded, felling you up as be awaited the upcoming feeling of your warmth wrapping around him.

your descent drove wonwoo insane. he doesnt think he's ever moaned that loudly before, nor does he think he's ever seen a prettier sight than your blissed out face as you felt him fill you up. the contrast of your movements right now compared to your soft touches earlier was laughable. it seemed like something had possessed you, making you bounce and grind on wonwoo at an animalistic pace, moaning incessantly at the feeling of his cock filling you up.

wonwoo was different from you, as his reaction was just pure bliss from the feeling of you, humping upwards with a lack of rhythm; just animalistic instinct to get himself as deep inside you as possible.

mingyu could be heard moaning from the background. you'd occasionally disconnect your eyes from wonwoo's form to make eyes at your boyfriend, giving him even more material for jacking off.

it went on like this until you began to near your end, which is when wonwoo believes he went truly insane. you began to grind at an angle that would bring gratification to your clit, practically crying on his cock. your hands went up to play with your nipples, stimulating yourself as much as possible. wonwoo wanted nothing more than to make you meet your end, grabbing harsher onto your hips and guiding your movements. he leaned up to kiss and suck at your tits, making you throw your head back and quicken your movements even more. you were in heaven and so was he. mingyu seemed to be too, as when wonwoo peeked a look at him he was practically crosseyed at the sight of you, arched back whining on his friend's cock.

your ends found you almost simultaneously. mingyu had been first, finally allowing himself to reach his high after edging himself for so long. soon followed wonwoo, spilling into the condom, causing you to cum at the sight of his pleasure. it took a bit for all of you to catch your breaths, staying silent for a bit until wonwoo broke the silence.

"shit. please tell me this isnt a one time thing."

you and gyu giggled at each other. wonwoo hoped that was a good sign.

a/n: lol lmk if u want a cont. with gyu's part

[vin-taege]

Hiii, if you're willing to, could I request a chishiya x reader where reader gets seriously injured and knocked unconscious during a game and chishiya carries you out of there and treat your wounds, and they only find out about it when they wake up and kuina tells them (+bonus points if they just assume someone else like ann or anyone else really was the responsible for letting you live🙏🏽) just had this thought and was like aaaaa👉🏽👈🏽🤔

Flesh Wound

Summary: Your body is aching all over when you wake up, but you have no idea who put the bandages on you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 2k

Note: I got carried away aGAIN ; O; This is set during the five of spades game :>>

The wind blew against a lock of your hair softly. Chishiya leaned over the railing beside you, looking expressionless as always. Three stories below, you could see the Horse Mask empty another round of bullets into two poor souls—the girls who might have been friends. They stilled for a second, probably gauging their surroundings. Suddenly, they looked up, the front of their mask pointed directly towards you.

Chishiya swiftly grabbed your arm, pulling you down as he ducked. You shared a held breath, though you stubbornly peeked from behind the concrete. Horse Mask was unmoving, until they finally tore their gaze away and went back to loading their gun. After cocking it, they trudged slowly down the hallway. 

“It has a blind spot,” you told him. In response, he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the right a little. “It didn’t see us, I think. Kept on going the same direction.”

“That’ll come in handy later. I’m still figuring out where exactly the safe zone could be.” He leaned back against the concrete barrier, eyes scanning the night sky above you before landing on your own. You tensed up, but for a different reason this time.

Don’t let him intimidate you, Kuina had told you before you entered the game. This was the first time you and Chishiya went to a game together. Kuina usually went with you, and your trio was granted the same group each time. But ever since the tension with the militants grew, Hatter had to reshuffle the groupings in an attempt to quell Aguni’s temper. 

You opened your mouth in response, words caught in your throat as you heard another bout of gunfire. Carefully, the two of you peeked over the rails again, eyes drawn to a scraggly mop of hair poking from behind one of the lower floors. You craned your neck, trying to get a glimpse of were Horse Mask might be.

Chishiya tapped your shoulder to gain your attention. “It’s below us. The noise came from our area.”

“We need to move out then,” you muttered, getting ready to stand up. Chishiya stopped you with another tug on your arm. His eyebrows were furrowed a little, gaze transfixed on the spot Horse Mask shot at.

“It’s that room,” he nodded towards the bullethole-riddled door. The kid with messy hair dragged a man wearing a cap away from it, no doubt to seek a safe spot. “The tagger wouldn’t have shot at them from far away if it wasn’t.”

Without a second thought, you leaned over the railings and shouted as loud as you can, “Fourth floor, sixth door!”

Almost immediately, heavy boots smacked against the staircase on your far right. Shifting his hand to wrap around your wrist, Chishiya steered you toward the left-wing staircase. Your feet padded against the steps, heart beating rapidly. You let Chishiya lead you through turns and stairwells until you found yourselves back on the fourth floor.

You stopped momentarily, planting your hands on your knees to catch your breath. Chishiya panted next to you, though he tried to control his breathing more. In any situation, he’d never fail to keep up the mask of calmness.

“Let’s end this. I’m so hungry,” you attempted to banter. Despite having played several games together, you still didn’t know where you stood with him. At times he would act uncharacteristically… nice. Getting you meals unprompted, bringing you back trinkets he’d find lying around—like the hair tie that held your hair right now. And other times he’d be so withdrawn, going for days without a single conversation with you, as if he’s deliberately trying to ignore you.

Like now. He glanced at you blankly, eyes flicking for the briefest second towards your lips. Or maybe you imagined it?

“Let’s go.” Without another word, he peered around the corner before walking in like he owned the place. You were left to trail after him, anxiously glancing at the upper floors surrounding you. Sensing your nerves, Chishiya turned his head towards you. “We’ll hear the tagger coming because of his shoes. Don’t worry your pretty head too much about it.”

Oh! Pretty? Did he just call you pretty? 

Thankfully, you were behind him, meaning you’d be able to hide your cheeks heating up. To distract yourself, you looked up only to find the same mop of messy hair and a cap trailing behind him. Chishiya spoke first before you could. 

“You figured it out too, huh?” He said, almost as a challenge. 

The boy nodded at him, saying how he also noticed the tagger’s protectiveness over that one specific door. He watched the taller man grip the door knob. Chishiya leaned against the wall, voice cool as ever. “What puzzles me is why the tagger isn’t here yet.”

You perked up, and you could tell that the other two players were intrigued by this statement as well. For a moment, everyone was silent. You turned your head towards Chishiya. “That means…”

“We don’t have time,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours. He flashed his phone, showing the timer counting down from three minutes. His gaze never left yours, a silent plead for you to keep quiet in the meantime. You glared back at him, having a bad feeling that this was one of his tricks again.

“Arisu, he’s right. We need to finish this now.” The man in the cap whispered to who you now know as Arisu. 

Arisu nodded back at him. He took a deep breath, then swung the door open. The four of you peered from the doorframe, scanning the inside of the apartment. Suddenly, gunfire started once again. This time, you felt a bullet graze your calf. All at once, everyone yelled, ducking into the safety of the apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself fall forward into the darkness. 

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Chishiya’s chest. His arms were wrapped tightly around your back, and you could hear him try to stifle his heavy breathing. Slowly, you tilted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes widened a little, realizing the position you were in. He quickly retracted his hold over you, as if you were hot metal.

With the moment broken, you rolled off him with a grimace. You muttered, “Thanks for—Arisu!”

Behind the apartment door, a second tagger emerged from the shadows, shotgun trained on the back of Arisu. He whipped his head back upon hearing you, dodging just in time as you pushed the gun out of line. 

The tagger thrashed against you, bringing in a leg to kick at your stomach. With a step back, you managed to dodge them, taking the opening to knee them in the torso. Your fingers still wrapped around the barrel of the gun, struggling to point it towards the ground.

From behind you, Chishiya lunged at the tagger. The charge of his tazer broke through the air, the man driving its points deep into the tagger’s leg. The tagger let out a pained yell, their leg giving out. They managed to catch themselves on their other foot. With the sudden shift in position, the gun slipped from your grasp. The tagger brought their arm back, bringing the butt of the gun on the side of your forehead.

The room spun around you. It felt like your head was dunked inside a fish tank, with all the noise sounding so muffled. Through the bleariness of your vision, you saw another spark in the dark—probably from Chishiya’s tazer again. Before you fully blacked out, you could recall Chishiya calling after you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You woke up with a groan, not even bothering to sit up because of all the pain. There was a light throbbing in your head, and your legs felt incredibly sore. You squinted your eyes, letting them adjust to the light. When your vision cleared up, you recognized the room you were in to be yours.

There was a blanket covering you from the hips down.  A wide bandage was wrapped over your head. Gauze was wrapped around your forearm, held in place by medical tape, a faint red mark seeping through the light fabric. You hadn’t even felt that injury from the game.

The game!

Does this mean you won? Is Chishiya okay? What happened to that Arisu kid and the man in the cap? Before you could stand up and get answers for yourself, a soft knock on your door echoed in your room.

“Come in,” you called out softly. Your voice was hoarse, and if you had spoken any louder, it would start up the headache again. 

Kuina walked into the room, a bread basket slung on her arm. Chishiya shuffled in behind her, his gaze trained on the floor. They brought out some of the hotel chairs in your suite, sitting on either side of you. With a smile, Kuina proudly plopped the bread basket on the empty space of your bed.

“Where’d you even get that?” you chuckled lightly.

“Chishiya nabbed it on the way home,” she wiggled her eyebrows, a teasing smirk on her face. Across her, Chishiya scoffed, eyes not leaving the carpet. “He was very worried you know. It was the first time I saw him shaking in his flip-flops.”

“She’s pulling your leg. Not that it’s been injured already,” he replied curtly. 

Through the pain, a smile made its way to your lips. With your uninjured arm, you gingerly ran your fingers across the basketweave. Your eyes found their way to Chishiya, his face framed by loose strands of hair. 

“Thank you, for getting me out and for the bread.”

“I didn’t say I got you out,” he narrowed your eyes at you, though a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“I know, but you’ll never admit it anyway,” you grinned. Bringing your attention back to Kuina, you nudged the basket closer to her. “Here. I want you guys to have some too. Oh, and please bring some for Ann down in her dungeon as well.”

Kuina raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What for?”

“For patching me up,” you shrugged, gesturing to your bandage-riddled body. Kuina still looked partly surprised, before a wave of realization washed over her. 

“Ah… I see.” She shot a knowing look toward Chishiya. It almost looked like he had a small pout. You could sense him starting to deflate a little in his seat, one of his knees starting to bounce repeatedly. “You know what, Ann isn’t the only person in the medical field here.”

With a wink, she grabbed two muffins and waltzed towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll drop this off at Ann’s too. To thank her for her ‘help’.” She emphasized with air quotes.

With a soft click, the door shut, leaving the two of you in silence once more.

You broke the silence first this time. 

“Chishiya?”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Who treated my wounds?”

He stayed silent for a moment, too stubborn to meet your gaze. Finally, he let out a long sigh and still his knee. “I used to be a doctor in the other life.”

It was a non-admission, but an admission nonetheless. He had this way of things where he’d never say anything directly. He loved puzzles so much, that he became one. But you were getting used to his hints. And over time, you were learning how to piece together his thoughts. 

“‘Shiya.” He finally looked at you. No one’s called him that since his mom. 

You shuffled to the side, patting the space you made. Hesitantly, he crawled beneath the covers with you. You laid down in now comfortable silence. Slowly, you placed your hand above his. 

He tensed for a moment before turning his palm up and enveloping yours. Your thumb traced his knuckle.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You turned your head to face him. “Way better.”

He thickly swallowed, turning his head to face you. In the softest voice, he said, “I’m happy you are.”

The throbbing in your head faded. With that one small sentence, you understood most of the things he wanted to say, bubbling just beneath the surface. Over time, he’d be able to fully let his walls down. You just needed to trust that he will.

[rinkkuma]

୨୧ BF SATORU

ft. satoru gojo

tags. gn!reader, a bit of cussing, all fluff ! / author's note. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i've actually been going insane because of how much he's taking up my mind) first post of 2024 had to be my one and only of course :3

uses you as an arm rest even if you're a tiny bit shorter than him. (satoru is 6'3 / 190cm for reference) if you're really short though, he has to lean down more and he's standing like the leaning tower of pisa, so he looks silly.

FACE CARD. he's actually the most majestic, gorgeous, beautiful man alive. up close, far away, from the left, from the right, above, below, he looks so fucking good. don't even get me started on when he has his glasses on.

satoru has a million gazillion of those skincare headbands with ears. he has a few cat ones, a hello kitty one, a kuromi one, and many many more. he even has a whole drawer dedicated to the headbands. (that is very close to overloading) he looks super duper cute with them though, so you never have the heart to tell him to stop buying every headband in existence.

whenever he feeds you something, he puts his hand under your chin to catch any crumbs. a tiny gesture to him, a big one for you. he smiles when your eyes widen and you mumble a “it's good”, and proceeds to poke your cheek.

satoru puts his hand above your head to make sure you don't bump your head whenever you go under a table to pick something up.

he is ever so slightly awkward in the beginning of your relationship, but it's cute! the first time you fell asleep on him, he was terrified to move because he was afraid to accidentally wake you up. 2 hours later satoru really really needed to pee, but decided not to get up because of how much it felt like a crime to wake you up. (you ended waking up anyways because of how much he was fidgeting.)

tucks your hair behind your ears before you can even realize it's bothering you. he looks at you with the most lovesick expression as he does this. he also does this while you're falling asleep, or already fast asleep.

before bed or as you guys wind down for the night, he more than often bursts out laughing at a random thought or a funny memory. scares the shit out of you because one; he's right by your ear, and two; his laugh is loud as fuck. he can't even explain what he was laughing about until a solid three minutes because of how much he was laughing. (and it ends up not being that funny.)

adding onto the above, he's the type to think everything is funny as shit at night. every reel, tiktok, you name it. (even if it's the unfunniest video known to mankind) sometimes if you're already asleep, he has to step out into the bathroom or living room to let out these laughs.

wipes the sweat off his face by pulling his shirt up. he looks at you with a smug fucking smile after.

his contact name for you on his phone is definitely some cheesy pet name (sweet cheeks, baby cakes) with a bunch of heart emojis. his contact photo for you is another story though. constantly changing from a close up picture to a picture of you sleeping.

satoru gets cuteness aggression a lot because of you. clenching his fist and sighing before squeezing you into a tight hug. he'll occasionally bite your shoulder too.

a human radiator. the first time you touched him you thought he had a severe fever, but he calmly told you he was warm all the time. it absolutely sucks during summer because he insists to cuddle with you, and most than often you wake up sweaty. (even with the ac blasting) of course, you try to move out of his grasp when he's asleep, but he only pulls you closer subconsciously when you do. during the winter though, you are so thankful. despite the various blankets you have on, it was hard to get warm and comfortable, but with the warmth of satoru you're nice and warm.

bickers with you if you're on his side of the couch. yes, satoru does unassigned assigned seats at home too. you two playfully argue for a few minutes until he eventually huffs and just sits down on. these arguments are useless though because he ends up pulling you next to him to cuddle.

he's actually really good at taking people when they're sick. making sure you're staying warm under the covers, feeding you proper nutrition and making sure you're drinking enough water. he occasionally leaves the room for you to rest since he doesn't want his naturally warm body making you even warmer, but if he ever sees you up (you're going to the bathroom) he jumps off the couch and pushes you back into bed.

satoru suggests movie nights at home on quiet weekends. turning on an animated movie or romantic movie most of the time. he tucks you into his side with a blanket draped over the two of you. he ends up just staring at you the majority of the movie though.

does that thing where he tells you your shoelace is untied, (which prompts you to look down) and grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. he smirks triumphantly. he does this multiple times a week, and you fall for it every time.

he spoils the fuck out of you on your birthday. gives you the amount of kisses the same age you're turning, listing number of reasons why they love you based on your age, and don't even get me started with how many gifts he gives you. dances while he sings you happy birthday.

once you start dating, you never are tying your own shoe ever again. before going out, he demands you to sit on the couch while he ties your shoes for you. when they get untied, he normally notices it before you. but if you do notice before him and you begin to crouch down, he rushes to crouch down before you and pushes your hand away.

likes comparing hand sizes with you. he has big ass hands, so he likes seeing how small yours are compared to his. totally not an excuse to hold your hand though, not that he would ever admit it.

[fushitoru]

gojo getting jealous about reader having a crush on spiderman is so funny to me. he's like a dog barking at its own reflection

cw: spiderman gojo content below cut, blurb is suggestive, for context reader and him are at a frat party on halloweekend and reader was jumped in an ally where spiderman saved her before this, might not make sense bc there's like 7k words before this but my yapper self couldn't keep this to myself, might be changed or not make the final cut, NOT EDITED

“Something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. Twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“So,” he says, tilting his head, “I heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that Spider-Man guy this week.”

That makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead of coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in Kirkland Signature Natural Spring Water. You’ve only told, like three people outside of Kento and Iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. The memory of Spider-Man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “It was amazing. He’s—he’s incredible, honestly. The way he just swooped in and handled everything? So fast, so precise. He’s like a real-life superhero.”

You’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

“Maybe I am,” you admit, laughing. “I mean, who wouldn’t be? He’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. It’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” You also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare Gojo the details. 

“Untouchable, huh?” Gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “Sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think Gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. Superheroes are overrated.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what, you’re not?”

He grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “I’m better. I’m real.” He then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “I can prove that to you.”

And you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. Despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“Really?” he teases. His hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. The motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. And your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"Yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.

It seems to have an effect on Gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "Wastin' your time on that Spiderman guy."

Maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and Gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "Who should I spend my time on instead?"

then they get cockblocked but

[sinsandsweetness]

“consequences” - part 4 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

part 1, 2, and 3

pairing- (Rick x fem!reader)

warnings- 18+ content, age gap, smut, needy + desperate reader, sneaky sex, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, light choking, mutual pining, cream pie, poorly proofread. wc 3.9k

notes- i know this took forever, so thank you all for the patience. i rewrote this like three or four times because i just wasn’t as happy with it as i am with the first three parts. i’m pretty happy with it now but I feel it isn’t as playful as the first three. regardless, please tell me what you think:) comments and reblogs are always incredibly appreciated and your feedback means a lot to me <3 enjoy!

3 weeks.

That’s how long it took you to break him. Since that day up in your room, during the barbecue. When he was insistent on showing you how much better he could take care of you than anyone else could. 3 weeks from then is when you finally broke him. And who’d have thought it’d be in your own home, with your dad passed out on the main floor. Unaware of the downright filth happening upstairs in your bedroom. Filth that if he ever found out, would send him into cardiac arrest. Though you’re always careful, and to you, the risk is definitely worth the reward.

But it’s not like you haven’t had a couple close calls. Stolen kisses and flirty glances can’t go unnoticed forever. Your father hasn’t ever said anything. Even when he can see Rick’s hands on your waist, lingering a minute too long. Or the way you always sit right next to him. Pressed up as close as humanly possible. Practically in his lap. Well... sometimes actually in his lap. Your father’s not stupid. But, he’s also not exactly the most confrontational man. And he’s never actually caught you. There’s been no real confirmation of his suspicions. Until today that is.

After a long day of work at your dads construction site, Rick arrives at your house before any of the others. Freshly showered with a case of beer. It’s just you and him in the kitchen. Making small talk as he tries to pretend there isn’t a band of tension pulling the two of you closer and closer with every meaningless question.

“Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, chopping up some vegetables on a cutting board. Glancing up at Rick who can’t seem to look you in the eyes. Distracted by the tiny little outfit you have on. A skirt, despite the brisk weather. A tight, fitted long sleeve that’s pushing your breasts together in the most enticing way possible. No bra. Clearly. And then there’s the best part. The part he keeps glancing down at while licking his lips and taking in a deep breath. Your thigh highs. White knit thigh high socks that make him want to pin you up against the counter and fuck you then and there.

“I uh- your dad told us to come for some drinks,” he looks up at you again, this time you’re leaning against the island, brushing your hands together to dry them off.

“So… where’s my dad then?” You ask, stepping even closer to the man. Too close, you realize at the hitch of his breath.

It’s been a really long 3 weeks.

“Uh- I imagine he got sidetracked. I know Maggie was looking for him. Probably caught up in conversation.”

“And Shane? Daryl?”

“On their way.”

“Hmm.” You hum. You’re right in front of him now. You can smell his cologne and the shampoo he uses. Damp curls forming at the base of his neck. Casual black jeans on, and a simple grey tee shirt. He places the case of beer right next to you on the counter, stepping in close so he’s pressed up against you. Trapped between his warm body and the cool marble.

You stay like that for a moment. Both of your minds going back to the night last week that you snuck out. To what happened in that truck. But more importantly what didn’t happen. What you’ve been praying would happen for weeks.

Finally he leans in, pressing a sweet little kiss to the corner of your lips before dipping lower. Breathing in your perfume.

“Missed you,” he admits into your neck. The warmth of his breath sends little pinpricks down your arms.

You breath in a quiet gasp when he kisses your neck. Warm, soft lips making their way down to your collarbone. His hands on either side of your waist, planting you against the counter.

God, you want him so bad it hurts.

Your hand goes to the back of his neck, pulling him up so his lips are forced against yours. Kissing him with the same fervor and necessity that had been building all month. Since that very first kiss in your dads garage. Since that day at the barbecue when Rick took you upstairs and showed you how much better he is at making your legs shake than Shane. Since the pool party, the day you were a complete tease and they all knew it. When Rick decided to take you down to the pool shed and teach you a lesson. You had no idea fingers could even feel that good. But Rick’s do. Everything Rick does, feels good to you.

And then, there was the night last week. The one that both of you have been thinking about every hour since.

You’d snuck out your bedroom window just to see him. To go for a drive and park on the side of the road. You kissed him til your lips were swollen and your panties were soaking through.

You know he’s wanted you from the very start. When he first met your dad and started coming over. Well before you’d ever kissed him. Showed interest in him. But that night, it hit him. How much he wants you to himself. How much he loves being alone with you. Just you. But no matter how tempted he may have seemed, he still refused to break the agreement. He still wouldn’t fuck you.

Yet.

“Rick-“ you gasp against his lips as he pulls you up onto the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Skirt riding up to expose your lacy panties. You can feel him against you. How badly he wants you. How hard he is for you. How hard he’s been every night since the night you snuck out to see him. Touching himself to the thought of you, wishing he’d just fucked you then, on the side of the highway in the dead of night. Just you and him and the stars acting as the only witnesses to your risky little love affair.

“Want you,” you say against his lips, his hand starting to gently wrap around the front of your throat. His other arm pulls you in by the waist so you’re completely flush with his chest.

“Want you so bad,”

But before he can mumble a response into your mouth, both of you hear the garage door open. You both freeze. Eyes going wide, you slide off the counter, immediately pulling your skirt back to an appropriate length. Rick rubs a hand over his face, turning the other direction. Giving you a moment of privacy to get yourself situated and to deal with the tent in the front of his jeans.

Your father walks in first.

You can't even look at him. Blush so very apparent on your pretty face as you look down at the cutting board, pretending to be occupied with the assortment of vegetables. Daryl and Shane head straight for the fridge. Only giving you a smirk of acknowledgment as their gaze is darting in between you and Rick.

Your father notices. The way you won’t look him in the eye. The way Rick is nervously running a hand through his hair and how his eyes keep darting over to you. He sees it. He’s not stupid. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t say anything. He just stalks over and slaps Rick on the back with a, “thanks man, really needed this after the week we’ve had.”

Rick nods in agreement, taking a sip of the bottle your father just handed him. Rick looks over at you. Something unspoken behind his eyes that you can’t quite make out. Yeah, it’s been a long week indeed.

You don’t stay downstairs long. When Shane and your father start getting all loud and rowdy in the living room, the empty bottles of their fifth beers being knocked over onto the hardwood as their play fight begins, that’s when you decide to head upstairs with a quick wave, “g’night.” Rick is the only one who catches it. Nodding back at you as you climbed the stairs. Watching you sway your hips with every step. Skirt so short that the bottom of your ass cheeks are on full display.

You try sleeping. But every time you close your eyes you see Rick. That night in his truck. Straddling his waist and unbuckling his belt. The way he kissed you so deep. Filled with so much lust. So much need. You’d never felt that before. And even though he told you exactly how bad he wanted you, he didn’t have to. You could feel it. With every touch. Every kiss. That’s why it surprised you when you tried to go all the way and he still wanted to stop you.

“Not like this. I can’t- I'm… we’re not doin’ it like this.”

“Why?” You were out of breath, still trying at his belt but his hand came down to stop you, firmly calling your name. Grabbing your full attention to his stormy blues.

“We’re on the side of the road for christs sake. It should be- fuck. We should be at home in a real bed. Not sneaking around in some beater pickup in the middle of nowhere-”

“Rick-”

“No.”

“This is perfect.” You tried to assure him.

He sighed and pulled your forehead against his, catching your lips before mumbling, “You’re perfect.”

“I want this. I want you.”

“I know. And you have no idea how badly I want this too. But I can’t. I just- we can’t.”

He still made you come. Regardless of the fact that he wouldn’t fuck you. He wasn’t going to let you go home without a proper orgasm.

But you needed more. Needed him.

And now, laying in bed, reliving the scene in your head with your hands trailing down to your panties, you’re soaking right through. Your stomach doing backflips at the memory of his hands roaming your body in the dark.

With a frustrated groan, you sit up. Fuck. A cold shower is what you really need.

You get up and open your bedroom door, immediately met with the sight of Rick on the top step of the stairs. He’s got his index pressed to his lips when he sees you. Telling you to be quiet. Hush.

He’s smiling behind his hand. Dropping it as he reaches your bedroom door. He brings his arm up to the doorway, leaning on it. Other hand sporting a half empty bottle of beer. You wonder how many he’s had.

“They’re all passed out on the couch aren’t they?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. Arms only inches from his chest.

“How’d you guess?”

“Well… it’s quiet, for one,” you turn around and head to your bed, sitting down and waiting for him to follow.

He does.

“And two… you’re here.” You say.

“I am.”

He sits down. A quiet moment passes and he takes another swig of beer before placing the bottle on your nightstand.

“Y’know, if you really don’t wanna sleep with me, you should probably stop inviting yourself into my bedroom. It’s sending some pretty mixed signals.”

He chuckles at your comment. “Mixed signals huh?” His hand goes to your leg, tracing the band of your thigh highs. You’re no longer wearing your skirt. Just panties, socks and an ex-boyfriend's baggy tee shirt.

“Yeah,”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing about you, sweetheart,” his hand makes its way up your thigh. His palm is rough against your smooth skin, the attention sending a jolt straight between your legs.

“How so?”

“Shane? Daryl?” He says it like it’s obvious. You fooling around with the other best friends.

“That’s different.” You look up at him now, the tiniest scowl on your face.

“How so?” His tone is soft but it’s clear he’s mocking you.

You open your mouth to respond but something stops you. Deep breath. You’re looking at his lips now. And he knows it.

“I wanted you, y’know. They’re fun and all but…“ you swallow. You need Rick. From the very start it’s been pretty obvious that you like him best. Always sitting next to him, as close as you can get. There’s just something different about Rick. The way he makes you feel. The way he was so quick to claim you. How he’s possessive and attentive and so insanely infatuated by you. It’s just… different. You can’t explain it.

“But what?” His nose is nearly touching yours at this point. One hand on your thigh and the other one reaching for your face. Thumb running across your jaw as you lean in.

You’re voice is quiet when you finally speak.

“I want you.”

He lips graze yours and you have a feeling that he heard you this time. Like, really fucking heard you. Not just the words leaving your mouth, but everything else that you’re trying to say. The way your heart is beating fast and you’re breathing is all shallowed. How he can see every nervous little tic that goes through you as he leans in to kiss you.

So he gives in. Reluctantly of course. If asking, “you sure about this?,” while peeling your panties down your legs is considered reluctant. Or worriedly whispering that “we could get caught,” while tossing your shirt across the room and leaning down to suckle at your breasts, nipping and sucking a few little love bites where no one else will see but him. Because that’s so very reluctant of him.

His hands are wrapped around your waist as he kisses down your stomach. Soft lips making their way down between your legs, propping one of your legs up and kissing your inner thigh. He takes his time, biting your leg and dragging his teeth down your sensitive skin. The action makes you whine, hands going straight to his curls.

“Rick just- c’mon,”

“Why don’t you just lay back and look pretty, huh?”

“Rick-” you’re on fire. Need pulsing through your bloodstream with every touch. His hands are holding your hips to the mattress, preventing them from squirming around. The featherlight kisses he’s peppering over your clit are bordering on the side of torture. You know he’s just trying to take his time. To savour the feeling and drag it on. Make it last and make it special. But he doesn’t realize how badly you need him to push your knees to your chest and fuck you til you’re a moaning mess.

“Rick.” You tug on his hair, trying to get him to just fuck you already. You’ve been waiting over a month for this. And judging by the arousal dripping onto your pink, cotton sheets, you definitely don’t need the foreplay.

“Maybe you’d get what you want if you used your manners a little more. Ever thought of that?” He looks up at you. And despite his words, he follows the hand urging him to come up and kiss your lips. To replace his shoulders with his hips in between your legs.

“Please,” you breath out. If manners is all he wants, then you’re a lucky girl. You’d tell him whatever he wants to hear if it mean he’ll fuck you. “Please, please, just fuck me, just-”

“God, you’re such a brat,” he cuts you off with a kiss, you’re legs instinctively wrapping around his clothed torso. And the feeling of his denim against your bare clit isn’t helping your incredibly desperate situation.

You reach for his belt mid kiss and you can tell that his instincts are telling him to stop you. To tell you that you’re dad’s downstairs and that it’s wrong. But with his forehead pressed against yours, warm breath fanning over your lips he dips down to kiss your neck. He doesn’t stop you. He lets you unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down, enough to reach his cock, standing tall and eager. You tug on his tee shirt and he helps you take it off, throwing it onto the pile of both your clothes building on your floor. You pull him in close with your legs, knitted socks all soft against his bare back, almost locking him into place. Your hands are on his jaw, pulling him in as you bite his bottom lip, gently dragging it out and earning a groan. At the same time, he lines himself up with your aching cunt. He enters you slowly with a muffled moan. A gasp leaves your lips at the stretch. He’s much bigger than anyone you’ve been with. In length and in girth.

Once every thick inch is completely inside of you, he can tell that you need a minute. Your breath is caught in your throat as you adjust to his size.

Well, no going back now.

“You okay?” He asks in between kisses. Keeping his hips still as you get used to the feeling.

You nod, “Just- go slow, ok?”

You can’t help the moan that’s crawling up your throat when he does as you say. Slow, intentional movements in and out. Fuck he’s big. But fuck, does it ever feel good.

“You feel so good,” you tell him. You need to tell him. To let him know how much you love it. How much you needed it. Needed him. “Please don’t ever stop.”

His breathing is heavy. Pushing down the groans and sounds you so desperately wish he would let you hear. He’s trying so hard not to come. You’re so wet. So warm. So tight around his cock and so fucking pretty laying there underneath him. Moaning all sorts of praise.

“You’re so big,”

“Rick, yes.”

“Right there, please.”

“Feels so good,”

And your words add fuel to the fire burning inside of him. The way you’re holding onto his neck, legs locked behind his back. Lips parted in the long awaited bliss of being filled right up. Taking him so well. And he makes sure to tell you it, too.

“That’s it, baby. Doin’ so good,” he kisses you again, “taking me so well.”

There’s a lot of hands. Grabbing at arms, necks, hair, faces. Whatever either of you can reach as he snaps his hips against yours. He’s done going slow. His pace is making your back arch off the bed and guttural, almost pornographic noises start to pour from your lips. Swollen and rosy and constantly catching his with every opportunity.

“Shhhh-“ Rick brings a hand up to your face. Forehead still pressed agains yours as he covers your mouth. “Gonna wake em’ up if you keep making so much noise.”

That’s not the only reason he needs you to shut up. It’s true, but it’s not the only reason.

He can’t take it. Well, at least he doesn’t think he can.

When he pulls out, your eyes go wide. No. Don’t stop. Why the hell is he stopping?

“What- oh.” your head falls back to the pillow at the feeling of his tongue on your clit. His fingers already knuckle deep and curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. Those fucking sounds you’re making are driving him crazy. But at least he knows he can last a little longer this way. Maybe make you come before he fucks you again. A little less pressure to perform when you’re already dumb from his fingers. From his tongue. From the way he’s sucking on your clit and pushing up on your thigh, fingers driving into you so hard you could scream.

You have to cover your own mouth. You know you’re being too noisy. And you also know the last thing either of you want is for your father to wake up to the sound of his daughter getting finger fucked by his best friend. By his friend who’s at least 15 years older than you. The one he’s been suspicious of for a few weeks now, over analyzing the way he looks at you. The way he listens to you. The way he brings you up and asks what you’re up to. All of it. And then earlier. The flushed faces of guilt and embarrassment when he got home in the middle of your moment.

You don’t need any kind of interruption. Anything that might put off the thing you’ve been pining for so badly for so long. But you definitely don’t need the interruption to come hurling up the stairs, drunk and careless and ready to fight.

So you bite your lip til it bleeds. A hot wave of pleasure erupts from your core, and spreads through you like a wildfire. Fuck. Those damn fingers.

Before you can even catch your breath, while your muscles are still twitching from your orgasm, his forearms find their way to either side of your face and he pushes inside of you once again.

“Ohmygod,”

You’re soaking. Both of you can hear it. The sounds of your slick, wet cunt perfectly taking every single thrust. So wet. And all for him.

“Ohmygod,” you repeat, nails raking down his back as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle to something otherworldly. Heaven or paradise or whatever utopia you can think up, couldn’t even compare. Not to this. Not to him. The way his cock kisses your cervix with every snap of his hips. The way his hands are roaming over your body. Trying to touch every square inch he can. The way he’s whispering all that dirty praise, telling you how good you feel. How wet you are for him. How fucking perfect you are. For him. The way he kisses the leg propped up on his shoulder, leaning back to admire what a mess he’s made out of his best friends daughter. So pretty and perfect. All flushed and glowing with a thin sheen of sweat coating your chest. Eyes glossed over in complete and utter ecstasy.

Nothing can compare.

“Rick, I- I-” your voice keeps catching in your throat.

“What? What is it?”

“Rick I- uh,” Ricks thumb runs over your bottom lip, dragging it out.

“I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hushed but your words don’t go unnoticed. Your grip tightens on his shoulders as his long fingers make their way down your body, pushing down on your lower stomach. It’s an intense pressure, sweet and comforting and so fucking enraptured that it brings tears to your eyes.

“God, you’re so pretty. Come for me, baby. Come all over my cock. ” He coaxes it out of you. Sultry moans leave your lips as you both reach your climax. Locking your leg around his waist as he fills you with his seed. Dipping down to press a passionate kiss to your mouth. Tongue tracing your own as his hips stutter to a stop. Heavy breathing with your chests pressed together. Thigh muscles straining from the angle but you can’t find it in you to care. Too overwhelmed by such an incredible high.

He whispers your name against your lips.

“Yeah?” You’re out of breath, doe eyes glancing up at him like he’s some kind of god.

“You are so fucking perfect.”

You know that while he means it, it’s not what he really wants to say. As if it might scare you off if he speaks the truth. If he tells you what he’s really thinking. It won’t. But he doesn’t know that.

Slowly, he pulls out of you. You can’t help but wince at the loss of contact. Leaned back on his knees, Rick tucks himself back into his jeans, forgetting all about his belt at the hypnotic sight of his cum dripping out of you. Both of you too caught up in the moment to think about a condom. And too blissed out now to find it in yourselves to care. His fingers trace through the warm liquid. You find yourself flinching at the sensitivity when he brushes over your clit.

“I’ll uh- I’ll grab a washcloth. Just- stay here, ok?”

You smile up at him. So predictably sweet and caring and clearly starting to overthink as he comes down from his high. Mind racing with “what if’s” and the overwhelming fear that you might regret it. Regret him.

But you don’t.

“Wait,” you grab his arm as he starts to stand up, heading for the bathroom to clean you up. To take care of you.

“Can we go again?”

A flash of surprise and then a wave of relief washes over his face as he sits back down.

“Jesus, kid.” He smiles and settles back in between your legs.

Right where he belongs.

-

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @miinbun @murder-jacket @ankhmutes @grimesthinker @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @whatthefuuuck @olive3oil @taylormarieee @imyourbratzdoll @fanngirl19 @spidermonkey2423 @belaballs @virtualreader @darylsdix0nn @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @cavillsgirl105 @movidita @flomrpus @summergirl37

(crossed out means I couldn’t tag)

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part One)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

It was a Friday evening when you came home after a long day at school. At 19 years of age, you were in your final year with only six weeks to go until graduation and whilst you were one of the oldest students in your class after having spent a year in America with your father, you sure were not confident.

You struggled to settle in, especially after your mother Sarah remarried rather quickly, and whilst you liked your stepfather Frank a lot, you felt somewhat out of place at his house.

Frank had a big family, including three brothers and one sister. His oldest brother happened to be no other than Cillian Murphy, an actor you had admired since you turned sixteen. 

Your mother told you about him before he showed up for dinner one night, cautioning you to be friendly, and ever since that evening, getting Cillian out of your head was impossible. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him walk through the door. He looked even more attractive than he did onscreen. His slightly grey hair, piercing blue eyes, and strong jawline sent shivers down your spine. 

Cillian was in his forties, just like your stepfather Frank, but this did not really bother you, and as the evening wore on, you could not help but feel increasingly drawn to him. Thus, when you heard that he would come over again tonight, you were ecstatic. 

As soon as he walked through the door, your heart raced faster than usual, making it hard to catch your breath. 

"Hi," you managed to say, forcing yourself to stay calm despite how much you wanted to reach out and touch him. 

"Hi Y/N, how have you been?" he replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it up and following you into the living room after your mother yelled out from the kitchen, telling him to take a seat as Frank would be home soon.

"I've been well. And you?" you asked, and he confirmed that he too kept well following which there was an awkward silence between you two for a few moments, both of you clearly feeling the magnetic pull toward each other. The chemistry was undeniable, making it difficult to focus on anything else but your growing desire for one another. 

Finally, breaking the silence, Cillian spoke softly, saying, "So, what do you usually do on Fridays?" 

You hesitated for a moment, trying to think of something interesting to tell him.

"Fridays, I am at school," you chuckled, and Cillian felt silly for asking.

"Right, of course. Frank told me you spent a year in America hence, you have not finished year twelve yet. How was that like?" Cillian asked as he moved closer, his gaze burning into yours.

"It was good. I learned a lot about different cultures," you told Cillian, feeling your heart racing. 

"That must have been quite an experience! So, what made you come back? Your dad lives over there, doesn't he?" Cillian asked, leaning back against the couch with a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice.

"Yes, he does. I missed Ireland, though, and I needed to finish school to start university," you explained. "My friends here in Dublin are great, though; they made the transition easier," you then informed Cillian, who nodded in understanding, continuing to study your face with those captivating eyes before, finally, his brother Frank arrived home.

Your heart sank, feeling the sudden interruption, although you could sense the anticipation and excitement between Cillian and you. However, you both knew that now was not the right time because Frank was present.

Frank and Cillian engaged in some small talk while you sat in and listened, which is when Cillian brought up his recent fight with Danielle.

Danielle was Cillian's wife, a beautiful actress, but you did not care for her. It seemed she always got under your skin. Even Frank admitted that Danielle could be somewhat high maintenance and, clearly, Cillian was over her constant antics.

It seemed to you like they fought a lot , and even though it wasn't your business, you found yourself wondering if, perhaps, Danielle might be part of the reason why Cillian felt so drawn to you. There was a certain magnetism between you two, even if you had not explicitly acknowledged it yet. Cillian's wife had always irritated you somehow, and the thought of him potentially wanting to escape from her was tempting.

"Do you mind if I crash here tonight? I am not keen to go home," Cillian eventually asked his brother Frank as it was getting late, and, of course, he did not mind.

"Sure, you can have the guestroom upstairs, man," Frank suggested, knowing full well that his wife would not appreciate him sleeping elsewhere on such short notice. But he was his brother, after all, and thus, he did not care about the consequences. 

With that, your mother handed Cillian a pillow and blanket, and your father poured him another glass of wine before they continued their conversations.

Just as they talked, you could not leave your eyes off him, imagining what it would be like to kiss him and what it would feel like to hold him close. You blushed just thinking about it and tried concentrating on the adult talk around you.

This continued for quite a while, but since both your parents had to work the following day, at around ten o'clock that night, they decided to retire to bed, leaving you and Cillian alone on the couch.  

As they left, Frank gave Cillian a pat on the shoulder, wishing him a good night and then, after a little small talk between you and him, Cillian too made his way upstairs, leaving you all alone on the couch. 

Your eyes locked onto Cillian as he walked away, and you could not help but stare at his rear end as he ascended the stairs. Your heart started racing again, your body craving to get closer to him. 

As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back down and caught you looking at him.

As his eyes met yours, a shared understanding was passing between you. It was a silent agreement that neither of you could ignore. The electricity between you was palpable, and it was clear that something had to give.

Your eyes alone motivated Cillian to come back down, and as he slowly descended the stairs, he never once broke eye contact with you.

Silently, he then approached you on the couch, sitting beside you and placing his hand gently on your thigh. 

"This has been a good evening," he whispered, causing your heart to race wildly.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance, but both of you knew exactly what was meant. 

"Oh, nothing specific," he responded, his eyes searching yours, the desire between you two evident.

You could not control the heat radiating from your cheeks nor the swelling in your chest.

With his hand still on your thigh, you nervously cleared your throat.

"Why don't we watch a movie? You do not seem tired yet," you nervously suggested, desperately trying to change the mood.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by your suggestion.

"Are you sure that watching a movie is what you want to do?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

His fingers moved gently along your thigh, drawing circles, and sending shivers down your spine.

"No..., or maybe yes. I do not know," you stammered in response before inhaling sharply.

"Fuck, I am sorry, Cillian, I just find myself struggling to keep my eyes off you," you then blurted out, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, feeling like a fool.

He chuckled lightly, his warm breath caressing your cheek. "I have noticed, and, to tell you the truth, I can’t keep my eyes off you either," Cillian told you before he paused for a moment, his fingertips grazing the sensitive area behind your knee.

"So, instead of watching a movie, do you want to show me where you sleep?" Cillian asked teasingly and with quite some confidence, causing you to gasp.

A mix of excitement and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to breathe properly. "You want me to take you to my room?" you murmured, allowing his hand to move higher up your thigh.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

“But, you are married,” you ought to point out, causing Cillian to chuckle again.

“Yes, I am, but I am sure you can keep a secret,” he told you, and you nodded shyly, cheeks blushing.

"You know, I haven't had sex in weeks," he confessed, his voice more profound than ever, causing you to swallow harshly. He certainly knew what he wanted, and he was rather direct and forward about it.

"Is that true?" you asked, your heart racing.

"Yes," he replied, running his finger along your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "But I won't pressure you into anything," he reassured you.

You were taken aback by his candour but also found it oddly arousing. "I... I have not either, I mean never...I never had sex before," you admitted, biting your lip nervously.

Cillian smiled, reaching over to place his hand gently on your cheek. "Don't worry. If you're ready, I'll take it slow and ensure you feel comfortable." His tone was reassuring, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

Feeling emboldened, you stood up from the couch, brushing off any lingering embarrassment. "Alright," you whispered, moving closer to him, and as you reached out to touch his face, he took your hand, leading you towards your room.

The room was quiet, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. As you led Cillian to your bed, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

The silence between you was suddenly deafening, heightening the tension. Each step seemed to echo in your ears as if amplifying the magnitude of the moment. As you reached your bed, you turned to face him, your hearts pounding together.

His eyes bore into yours, conveying a mix of desire and tenderness. He slowly reached for your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"It will feel good Y/N, I promise," Cillian told you in a low, reassuring voice.

Your heart raced, and you felt a flush of nerves sweep through your body.

"Okay," you whispered, your lips trembling slightly, and as you let go of each other's hands, you couldn't help but glance down at his crotch, wondering what lay beneath those dark jeans.

You could see the longing in his eyes, mirroring your feelings. Without further ado, he took off his shirt, revealing his toned physique.

"May I kiss you?" Cillian then asked, seeing that you had not crossed this line just yet.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you inched closer to him, you could feel your heart racing in your chest. The room was now bathed in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow upon the scene. You gazed into his eyes, lost in the depths of their intensity before, finally, his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss.

Cillian's hands roamed your clothed body as your tongue danced around his. His touch was tender as if he were taking great care not to scare you off. Slowly, he removed your shirt, exposing your delicate skin to the cool night air.

Your breasts quivered in the moonlight. Cillian's eyes widened, clearly appreciative of your natural beauty. He gently cupped one breast, causing you to shiver slightly.

"No bra, huh?" he teased, his voice rough with emotion. You blushed, feeling exposed but also exhilarated by his words.

"Uh-uh, I don’t like wearing a bra," you simply stammered in response as, quickly, he unbuttoned your jeans as well, and you nervously wiggled out of them.

"You are beautiful," Cillian told you, gazing over your naked figure, and you blushed in response.

"I-I didn't think you would find me attractive," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

Cillian smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Y/N. Now, lie down and let me show you how good I can make you feel," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

Obediently, you lowered yourself onto the bed, your heart racing in anticipation.

Cillian soon he followed suit, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gently exploring your curves.

He trailed his fingers down your stomach, tickling your soft skin and making you giggle. His fingers traced the outline of your breasts, eliciting a shiver from you. Finally, his hand reached your hip, encouraging you to open your legs wider.

Slowly, he slid his fingers down the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your clothed crotch. He gazed at you with hooded eyes, his expression intense. You found yourself holding your breath, anticipating his next move.

Cillian, sensing your growing impatience, decided to remove his pants, revealing his thick, hard cock straining against his briefs. Your eyes widened, unable to look away from the powerful erection before you.

As he leaned forward, he whispered in your ear, "Do you trust me, Y/N?" His voice was low and husky, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You nodded without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes, I trust you," you answered, your voice wavering slightly.

"Good, then take off your panties for me," Cillian said, his voice low and seductive.

Your eyes widened, and you hesitated briefly before nodding. With trembling hands, you removed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Cillian leaned forward, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, sending a surge of excitement through your body. His hands travelled down your smooth back, stopping just above your ass, before slowly sliding back up, teasingly tracing the curve of your lower back.

"Open your legs for me. Let me touch you," Cillian commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. You hesitantly complied, moving your legs apart so he could touch you.

"You look so fucking sexy like this," Cillian then whispered before proceeding to gently slide his index finger across your entrance, circling it teasingly.

Moaning involuntarily, you arched your back, seeking more contact. Cillian obliged and tentatively slid his finger into you, causing you to gasp. His eyes were locked onto yours, watching your reaction closely.

"So tight," he whispered, gently kissing your neck, and you took a deep breath, trying to relax and calm your nerves. It was strange being in this new territory, experiencing something so intimate with someone you barely knew.

"Have you ever touched a man before?" Cillian then asked before wiggling, with his free hand, pulling down his briefs.

"No," you stammered as you looked at him. He was even bigger than you thought and more imposing than you imagined.

"Give me your hand, Y/N," Cillian said gently before reaching for it and guiding it towards his cock.

"Touch me," he whispered, his voice a deep rumble. Nervously, you obeyed, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft. Your heart raced, and you could feel the warmth of his flesh against your palm. Cillian closed his eyes, savouring the sensation as you began to stroke him gently.

At the same time, he circled his fingers over your clit, applying light pressure as he experimented with different rhythms. You groaned, feeling your body start to heat up.

As you continued to play with his shaft, Cillian increased the intensity of his movements, causing you to whimper in delight. The combination of your touches and his expertise sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Cillian pulled you close, kissing you deeply, his hand now circling your clit firmly, drawing moans from your throat.

His mouth left yours to trail kisses down your jawline to your neck, causing your body to shudder with desire. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, as your body quaked, losing control of the waves of pleasure washing over you.

"Oh god!" you cried out, gripping his shoulders tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as you drowned in the sensations cascading through your body. Your mind went blank; the only thing you were aware of was the overwhelming sensuality filling your world.

"Sssh, your parents are right next door," Cillian warned you. "You need to be quiet," he told you, but it was not just fear of discovery that made you quiet; it was the intensity of the moment.

Every muscle in your body tensed, waiting for the next wave of pleasure to crash over you. Cillian, with his experienced touch, knew precisely what you needed. Gently, he shifted your body, guiding you into a new position.

As he settled on top of you, right between your spread-out legs, you felt his hardness against your softness, the contrast making you feel even more desirable.

"Do you want me to wear a condom?" Cillian asked, hoping that the answer would be no.

"I am on the pill. What would you prefer?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Cillian smiled devilishly, knowing you were curious about what was to come.

"I would rather fuck you bare and cum inside you," Cillian said confidently, his tone filled with raw masculinity. His confidence seemed to be having a powerful effect on you, making you wetter than you realized.

"But I'll use a condom if you insist," he added, his voice softening.

"No, I trust you," you replied, finally embracing the adventurous side you had been hiding from everyone else.

Without further ado, Cillian kissed you deeply while supporting your weight with his strong arms. He teased your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, causing a pleasant tingle to shoot through your body. The sensation was both foreign and familiar, amplifying the connection between you two.

As his hands roamed your body, his fingers explored your secret places, triggering even more feelings you had never experienced before. Your arousal grew rapidly, and you found yourself yearning for more of his touch.

Cillian, sensing your growing eagerness, shifted your position again, spreading your legs wider apart and then positioning himself against your entrance again.

His length was already leaking precum into your slid and the feeling of it mixed with your own arousal created a sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Is it going to hurt?" you asked nervously, breaking the intense connection you shared. Cillian smiled reassuringly, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Only at first," he assured you, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "I'll go slow, alright?" Cillian asked, his voice deep and commanding, causing you to nod.

“Okay,” you whispered as he began to press his tip against your entrance, slowly, gauging your readiness. Your body tensed and quivered in anticipation, each movement from Cillian causing you to writhe in excitement.

The head of his cock finally entered you, causing a sharp exhale from you as your body accommodated his size. Despite the painful sensation, there was also an indescribable pleasure in taking him deeper. Your breath caught in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was it, this was your first time, and you could not help but feel overwhelmed. You grasped Cillian's shoulders tightly, finding solace in his strength and experience.

"You're doing great," Cillian reassured you, his voice soft and tender. "Take deep breaths and the pain will fade," Cillian encouraged you as he pushed into you further.

"You are taking my cock so well. Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice laced with desire as you nodded, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

Cillian gently started moving his hips, slowly pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, giving you a chance to adjust to his size. You winced in pain but also felt a strange sense of empowerment that this man's presence was enough to make you feel desirable despite the pain. Each thrust brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort, but as you got used to his size, you learned to focus on the sensations and not the initial pain.

The feeling of him filling you, his cock gliding effortlessly in and out, was beyond words. The erotic friction between your bodies heightened your arousal exponentially. You became addicted to the rhythm of his hips, the sound of his grunts, and the way his sweaty skin slapped against yours.

Cillian, reading your body language perfectly, sped up his pace, picking up the tempo and pushing deeper inside you. The pleasure became more intense, overpowering, and overwhelming.

The rhythm between you both picked up, a perfect symphony of moans and grunts echoing throughout the room. Your body bucked beneath him, craving the fullness of his cock, the sheer force of his passionate embrace, and the unyielding intensity of their connection. With each thrust, the walls seemed to disappear, leaving you suspended in a sensory-rich universe where nothing existed except for the primal, primordial need to mate.

You moaned louder, and Cillian placed a hand on your mouth.

"Shh, remember to be quiet," Cillian told you with urgency, and you nodded again, understanding the gravity of the situation and how it would affect your relationship with your family if discovered.

This newfound sexual awakening had brought forth a wildfire that burned brightly yet dangerously close to the flammable tinder that was your family's innocence.

His hands were rough from years of playing his craft, yet gentle when they caressed your body. Every touch left a burning trail across your skin, igniting passion within you.

You grabbed onto Cillian's shoulders with all your might, his muscles rippling under your palms. Your cries mingled with his growls, creating a symphony of animalistic fervour. Your entire being seemed to be alive with electricity as you moved together in perfect harmony.

Cillian's hand found its way to your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive nipple. You let out a soft moan, arching your back to push your chest closer to his hand.

Cillian responded by placing a warm, rough kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, fuelled by the intensity of the moment. His fingers trailed down to your lower stomach, brushing against your clit, making you squirm with desire. His touches were both rough and tender, combining elements of dominance and affection that sent your body spiralling into ecstasy.

His tongue danced along your earlobe, making you pant with anticipation.

"Let's change positions. I am not ready for you to cum just yet," he eventually told you as he could tell that you were close to orgasming again, following which you would probably be too sore to continue.

"I want to enjoy this for a little longer," Cillian teased, and your lips parted slightly, surprise written all over your face. It seemed impossible to deny yourself such a release after coming so far. But something about Cillian's words, his voice full of control and authority, made you trust him completely.

You reluctantly agreed, though deep down, you ached for the satisfaction of reaching climax. Instead, you focused on the sensations coursing through your body, each stroke of his hand drawing you closer to the edge without allowing you to fall over.

"How do you want me?" you asked, feeling daring in the darkness of the room. Cillian's eyes gleamed with desire as he contemplated your question.

"Turn around and present your ass to me," he ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. Your heart quickened with excitement at his dominance, obeying him instinctively. You turned around, presenting your bottom to him, feeling vulnerable yet excited by the thought of being taken from behind.

Cillian grabbed your hips firmly, pressing his hard cock against your wet entrance, eliciting a soft moan from you.

As he prepared to enter you from behind, he whispered in your ear, "Remember, it might hurt a bit more in this position, but I promise it won't last long."

You nodded, trying to brace yourself for the unexpected sensation. Feeling a surge of power and control, Cillian positioned himself firmly behind you, holding you tightly. As he took hold of your hips, you felt a sudden burst of pain, but your determination to please him kept you steadfast.

"Breathe, darling," Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice echoing through your body, bringing both comfort and arousal. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations as Cillian pushed forward, gradually filling you up. The stretching sensation combined with the lingering pain caused you to whimper softly, but Cillian continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, promising relief soon.

With every thrust, you grew accustomed to the pain as he hit your cervix, focusing instead on the pleasurable pressure building up inside you.

Cillian began to speak dirty, his words fuelling your arousal even more.

"That's it. Good girl. Take it all, feel how good it is," he commanded, guiding your body to accept his larger size. His tone, a mix of dominance and love, left you yearning for more.

The rhythm of your bodies became a symphony of groans and gasps, the energy between you two undeniably potent. Your moans echoed through the dark bedroom, a testament to the raw desire you both harboured.

Cillian gazed to where you were connected, and the evidence of your innocent lost spurred him on even more. There was a smudge of fresh blood on his cock, a mark of his conquest over your virginity. It filled him with pride, and he wanted to claim you entirely. He increased the pace of his thrusts, pounding into you with a savage intensity. He pulled your hair back, exposing your neck, then kissed it softly, his lips trailing down to your collarbone.

Your moans turned into a low wail, halfway between pain and pleasure. Cillian's touch became rougher, his movements more urgent, mirroring your own growing hunger as he covered your mouth with one of his hands.

"Don't scream, okay? We don't want anyone hearing us," he whispered; his breath hot against your ear. His other hand gripped your hip, steadying you as he thrust into you harder, faster. You cried out, the pain shooting through your body like an electrical current. Despite the pain, your body responded instinctively, meeting his thrusts with a rhythm of its own.

Cillian's lips moved closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur.

"I can feel you wanting to cum, aren't you, sweetheart?" He knew exactly what buttons to press to get you going. The simple mention of your desire was enough to make your knees go weak, and you could no longer bear the exquisite torture of his cock lodged deeply inside you.

Feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets, seeking purchase amidst the swirling chaos of desire and confusion.

"Good girl. Keep taking me a little longer,” Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice causing your body to tremble. Your mind was reeling with the sensations coursing through your body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. The only thing you could focus on was Cillian's cock, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust elicited a sharp cry from you, but the pain only served to heighten your arousal.

He gripped your hair, pulling you backwards slightly and angling your head towards his shoulder.

"Keep breathing, baby," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. Your heart raced with anticipation, your whole body pulsing with desire.

Despite the pain and the discomfort, you craved more. You knew there was something special about this man, something irresistible that drew you in. Your body ached for him, and your soul yearned for the connection he provided.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed into your ear, his rough voice making your stomach flutter.

"Almost there. Good girl. I am going to fill you with my cum soon," Cillian promised, his voice heavy with lust. Your breath caught in your throat at the mere idea of his cum filling you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his cock, begging for it to penetrate deeper.

With each thrust, Cillian's voice dropped lower, becoming rougher with desire.

"That's it, baby. Let go and take me all the way," Cillian urged, his voice hoarse with desire. Your muscles contracted rhythmically around his cock, milking him until he couldn't hold back any longer and you climaxed together, his hand covering your mouth as you did.

His voice rose with excitement, "Fuck, baby!" he growled into your ear, the sound resonating deep within you. With a final powerful thrust, Cillian erupted inside you, his entire body shaking violently. His arms held you tightly, burying his face in your neck as he came. Your body shook beneath him, wracked with aftershocks of pleasure, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

"Hmm," Cillian groaned, still inside of you, releasing the last of his cum.

His chest heaved heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Your body was limp and heavy beneath him, spent from the intense sexual encounter until, eventually, he pulled out of you.

Cillian looked down at where you were joined, his eyes fierce with passion.

"Don't move," he said, keeping you on all fours as his hand reached underneath you, finding the wetness between your legs as you leaked his cum from your gaping hole, tinged with a tinge of blood.

Cillian's thumb rubbed the outside of your hole tenderly, spreading your combined juices over the entrance before slipping a finger into you slowly. You gasped, your body reacting to his touch despite your exhaustion.

"So full with my cum," he marvelled, admiring your resilience as his fingers circled and probed inside you.

"Is that blood?" you asked, looking back over your shoulder.

"Don't worry. That's normal," Cillian assured you gently, his thumb continuing to rub the entrance of your body, coaxing it to accept his finger again.

"This was our first time together, and it may take some getting used to," Cillian pointed out as if he wanted to do this again sometime.

"You will probably be sore for a few days," Cillian warned, pulling his finger out of you, and as he did, you felt the residual warmth of Cillian's seed inside you.

"Please...please let me clean myself." You whimpered, ashamed of the mess you had become.

"Not yet. Not until I take a picture of your pussy, leaking my cum," Cillian said before he reached for his phone, switching it on.

"Let me take a photo of you right now". With his index finger, he spread open your labia, showing off your hole, filled with his cum and blood. "There. This proves you are mine", he added, his voice low and dangerous.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed and exposed. "Can we please just clean up now?" you implored, wishing you could somehow disappear from the situation, which was both, arousing and embarrassing.

But Cillian was relentless, snapping photos of you and your exposed body. The sight of your defiled body filled him with a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness.

As he took photos, Cillian's dominant side intensified, his eyes darkening with lust. He spoke to you in a tone that brooked no argument, telling you to remain silent and still. The combination of his authoritative manner and your fear of his reaction, if you refused, made it impossible for you to object.

After taking multiple pictures, Cillian finally decided that you were sufficiently documented.

With a sense of triumph, he switched off his phone and returned it to his pocket.

He stood up, allowing you to pull yourself into a sitting position. You felt incredibly vulnerable, with your legs spread wide apart, leaving you exposed. You were completely at his mercy, and you knew it.

Cillian approached you, his steps deliberate and confident. As he knelt beside you, he ran his fingers gently along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake.

Your skin prickled with awareness at his touch, and your breath caught in your throat. He traced circles around your entrance, teasing it with his touch. Your body responded involuntarily, pushing forward into his caresses.

"We should get a hotel room next time," Cillian suggested, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance, knowing fully how much he had affected you.

You nodded, trying to regain control of your racing thoughts. "Yes, that would probably be better," you agreed, not daring to look directly at him as, finally, he reached for the tissues on your bedside table.

Gently, he began to clean you up, carefully removing his seed from your body. You could not bring yourself to watch, instead looking away and focusing on his movements, which were slow and gentle, never rushing. When he finished, he offered you the tissues to clean yourself further. Grateful, you accepted them and proceeded to do so, feeling a mix of shame and relief wash over you.

"I should probably leave you now," Cillian said, standing up and putting on his clothes.

"No, wait." You insisted, suddenly needing to express your gratitude. "This was fun. Thank you," you said, and Cillian smirked.

"I will show you more fun after school next Tuesday if you are game," Cillian said, giving you a suggestive grin.

"Tuesday sounds good," you replied, trying to match his boldness, even though you were unsure if you were ready for more.

Cillian leaned in, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Be good," he commanded, flashing you a devilish smile. Then, he left your room, leaving you alone to process everything that had just happened.

Your body trembled, still humming with the aftermath of their intimate encounter.

You couldn't believe what had just transpired between you two, but at the same time, you found yourself wanting more.

Your cheeks flushed as you recalled Cillian's commanding presence and the raw intensity of their connection.

[stervrucht]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠 🪱

Thank you for the tag @just-my-latest-hyperfixation 🧡

Today I’m thinking about this ridiculous story of a friend of mine, who, after she thought she’d been ghosted, proceeded to hold a cremation by burning the guy’s picture, only to receive a text right after.

“Where are we going, Eddie?”

Dustin’s tone is starting to grate on his nerves and Eddie needs to take a deep breath to calm his voice before responding. 

“I told you, a small detour.”

“Through the woods? What about the guitar lessons?”

“Yes, through the woods," Eddie snaps. 

He doesn’t even have to look to his side to know Dustin is pouting. Despite that, the little guy still follows him, ducking underneath the brush as they make their way to Skull Rock. 

He didn’t tell Dustin—doesn’t think there’s an adequate way to explain that this was what he did whenever he was dealing with a serious bout of heartbreak. That—because Steve Harrington hadn’t been answering his phone and clearly dumped Eddie without the courage to say so to his face—Eddie now needed to initiate the Cremation Stage. 

Yeah, you heard that right.

It first happened three years ago, after Stacy Morgan landed on him during a game of spin-the-bottle and cried after kissing him. That one kinda stung. 

After a bit of dumb back and forth, he and Gareth decided to cut her picture from the yearbook and held a stupid little funeral—speeches and all. After they were done and said their goodbyes, they burned the picture. It made him feel better. So much so, that it became a dumb little habit.

One he hadn’t executed that often, really.

Which is why it sucks so much he is off to Skull Rock, the place he first kissed Steve Harrington against the expectations of everyone ever, to burn his stupid picture.

When they finally reach Skull Rock, Eddie digs through his pockets and pulls out his Zippo and Steve’s picture. Dustin leans over his shoulder, knees digging into the back of Eddie’s arm as he leans over to watch.

“Why do you have a picture of Steve?”

“Because.” Eddie strikes the Zippo, trying to make it catch flame, but the old thing is protesting.

“Because why?”

The stupid thing still won’t catch. Eddie strikes his thumb over the wheel with a little more aggression—pulls his lips into a thin line, frustration pulling at his gut. “Because I need to burn it.”

“Why?”

Eddie throws his hands. “Because I have to okay! Because—”

Because Steve’s finally realized Eddie was a mistake. And Eddie knew the day would come. He was just pushing his head in the sand like a fucking ostrich, hoping he could enjoy what little time Steve was willing to give him. He just hoped Steve would have had the guts to actually say so to his face.

He can’t tell Dustin any of that though. 

Finally, the Zippo produces flame and Eddie holds the corner of Steve’s yearbook picture near it. It takes a few seconds, but soon enough the picture engulfs into flames and Eddie has to drop it between the twigs and dried leaves. He allows it to burn for a few seconds until the leaves around it start to smolder. He quickly kills the flame with his shoes and once he removes his feet, only ash is left of what was once an image of Senior Steve.

Eddie pulls himself into a standing position and slips the Zippo back into his pocket.

“All done.”

“Dude, that was so weird.”

“No, it wasn’t. And don’t tell Steve about this.” 

Dustin raises an eyebrow at him but probably senses it’s best to not push it.

“Can we go play guitar now?”

“Yeah, man, whatever. Let’s go.”

A little while later, Eddie sits in Dustin’s bedroom, his guitar in his lap as he shows Dustin some chords to Metallica. The little dude learns fast, last week's chords already dexterously mastered. A little more and he’ll be playing his first full song. Now, just to get a feeling for it, he makes Dustin play the same five chords as base while Eddie plays the more complex parts of the song. 

He’s actually starting to get into it when the doorbell to the Henderson residence rings.

“Really, now?” Dustin lets out a frustrated sigh and puts his guitar down on his bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie hums and continues picking at the snares. Mumbles along to the song until he hears Dustin return to the room.

“Oh, hey Eddie.”

Eddie looks up. That didn’t sound like Dustin. That sounded like—

“Steve.” Eddie is staring at Steve standing in Dustin’s doorframe. Can’t do anything else than stare because an hour ago, he cremated Steve. 

And now he’s here.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Steve lets out a little laugh. And it’s not the ‘oh shit I ran into my ex’ kind. It’s the genuine kind. The fond kind.

Dustin pushes himself past Steve into his bedroom. “I told you, I’d give it back to you on Monday,” he complains.

Steve rolls his eyes, watching with amusement as Dustin digs through his closet.

“W—where have you been?” Eddie hardly dares to ask. He tries to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“Ugh, my parents man. They took me on some campus visits to fancy universities. Didn’t give me any warning either. It sucked balls.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not great. How have you been holding up with this asshat the past few days.” Steve looks back to where Dustin is now clearing the lower levels of his closet. 

“I heard that!” he calls back. 

“I…I’ve been doing just dandy.” Eddie shoots Steve a little smile, and yes, that’s definitely fondness in Steve’s face. God, he’s such an idiot.

A total overreaction. 

When Dustin rears his head from the closet, proudly holding a cassette tape, Eddie thinks he needs to make sure Dustin takes this little Skull Rock detour to the grave. 

---

No pressure tags for @sleepy-steve @spectrum-spectre @runninriot @wheneverfeasible @eddiethebrave

[alessiasfreckles]

amnesia - part 4 (ona batlle x reader, alexia putellas x reader)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

warnings: none!

---------

“Well, what’s the story of our friendship? Is there anything I should know about there? Any drama that happened, any secrets? Please, no more secrets,” you said with a wry smile. 

Alexia took a deep breath.

“We became friends pretty quickly, when you moved to Barcelona. You’re a very easy person to be friends with, an easy person to like,” Alexia said. “You spent a lot of time with me, and a lot of time with Ona. At the start, I… I was jealous, actually.”

“Of me?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Maybe? Of Ona, of both of you, I think.”

“Why?”

She took a breath, picking at her nails. “Like I said, you’re a very easy person to like. You’re very pretty, you’re amazing on the pitch, you’re kind and funny.”

Her words hung in the air for a minute. 

“You liked me? As in, romantically?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Si,” she said, looking down at her hands. Her cheeks were pink.

“Your hair- it used to be pink, right?” you said suddenly, images of a pink ponytail flashing to mind.

“I- si, did you remember?” she asked, looking up at you. 

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Um, do you still like me? Like that?”

Alexia shrugged noncommittally, not meeting your eye, then sighed. “Si - but nothing has to change. I do not want anything to change between us. We are very good friends, I would never want to lose that.”

“Okay, then. Nothing will change,” you agreed. “Although, I don’t really remember much about what it was like before, so for all I know this could be entirely different to how things used to be. It’s kind of weird, not really knowing what I’m like or what my life was like. Really weird, actually.”

Alexia, who had been quiet since her admission, brightened up. “I have an idea!” she said, sitting up straight. “What if I show you what your life was like before? I can take you to your favourite places, show you what you usually would do!”

“That sounds great!” 

“It will have to be after training,” she said, frowning. “Will you be okay during the day on your own?”

You waved her off. “I’ll manage. It’ll give me time to go through everything here, try to remember more.”

By the time Alexia left for the night (after repeatedly asking if you were sure that you’d be okay on your own, and if you needed anything to call her, or anyone else from the team), you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Despite how tired you were, getting into what was supposedly your own bed felt wrong, and you spent the night twisting and turning, unable to get comfortable.

Still, waking up and seeing something other than the hospital walls felt like a step in the right direction. You spent the morning going through everything you could find in your apartment that could give you clues about who you were. A journal from when you’d first moved to Barcelona (that you’d only managed to write three entries in before giving up) described your first days with the team, how nervous you’d been and how welcomed Alexia made you feel, and how you were so intimidated by Ona and how attractive she was but that she was so friendly to you, immediately putting you at ease. A paragraph about Alexia made you pause, the way you had written almost made it sound like you had a crush on her, the way you described her, raving about how good she was at football, how nice she was, how pretty. It was followed by another paragraph about Ona, and how amazing she was, and you rolled your eyes at your past self.

Reading about Ona felt weird, and you put the journal back, trying to push the thoughts of her out of your mind. Still, when you got hungry you were reminded of her once again, the fridge full of food that she had prepared for you. You pulled a covered bowl out to find a handwritten note on top, telling you what food was inside, with a smiley face and a heart. You told yourself that the funny feeling in your stomach was purely due to being hungry, nothing else, but you carefully left the note on the counter, not wanting to throw it away. 

By the time Alexia arrived you were starting to feel a little stir crazy, your leg making it hard to move around. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you told her as you opened the door.

“Hello to you, too,” she laughed. 

“Yes, hi. I miss going outside, and I’m all ready for our trip!” you told her, waving your crutches in the air.

“Woah, okay, I can see that!” she ducked as you waved your crutches a little too close to her head. “Okay, the first place we are going to go is a café nearby. It is your favourite. Usually you walk but I think we will drive.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you said, slumping a little. You’d been looking forward to moving a little, your body feeling tense from inactivity. “You’re too sensible.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she suppressed a smile. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the café. You took a deep breath as you hobbled inside, and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries filling your lungs. It instantly felt familiar, and you were drawn to a seat by the window. 

Alexia watched as you moved to sit down, smiling. “That’s your favourite spot. You always sit there.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I like to watch the people going past.”

She raised an eyebrow, and you cocked your head, then realised what you’d said. “Huh. I don’t know where that came from, but it feels right.”

You watched Alexia as she ordered at the counter, thinking about what she’d told you last night. You weren’t sure how to feel - remembering her words made your stomach flutter, but you weren’t sure why. When she sat down, a drink for each of you and a pastry on a plate, you felt a sudden wave of emotion. 

“This is my favourite, right? This is what I always get,” you asked, and she nodded, smiling shyly. “You remembered?”

“Of course, chiqui,” she said. 

As you ate, you talked about football, which seemed like a safe topic. Your mind kept wandering though, thinking about the way that Alexia had known where to take you. She knew your favourite café, your usual order, she had known all the right things to say to you. You felt your cheeks warming up as you realised how much she cared about you, your old journal entry coming to mind, and you caught yourself wondering why nothing had ever happened between you.

“You seem distracted,” Alexia said, interrupting your stream of consciousness. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh, not much,” you quickly said. “Just about training, when I’ll be able to go back.”

“Ah,” she said, frowning. “I am not sure. Maybe you can ask the doctor on Friday?”

You nodded, your cheeks still pink. As you reached for your drink, your phone vibrated on the table. 

[Ona:] Please can we meet, and talk? Tomorrow?

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. I)

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

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

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

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

♡ Word count: 16.4k

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

part II →

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is why you don’t date.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It seems like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

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

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

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

No fucking way.

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

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

“I will not,” You chuckle.

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

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now.

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

Until now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this was all you had ever known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

はい (Hai)

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

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

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love.

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

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

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

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

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

Until he fell for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“I will change your mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agree to disagree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he needed to know.

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

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

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

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

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

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

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

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

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

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.