#no offense if you’re madly in love with him

[rxspit]

me waiting for the ethan landry hype to die down so i can safely peruse the scream tags again

[eccentricwritingbaby]

arm candy

lando norris x reader

summary - enemies to lovers as the two embark on a pr relationship. reader is heavily based on cristina yang and olivia pope - intelligent and knows her worth. lando treats her as just a piece of ass on his arm. the two need to keep up appearances, yet always have time to find a fight. 

masterlist

-

“i’m sorry,” you can’t help but laugh into the conference room, “you want me to what?” your father just sighs across from you in his seat, already knowing his head strong daughter would make a fuss over this. 

“y/n…” he starts, but you shoot him a look to stop, quickly. 

“i’m sorry, are you my pimp or my father?” you ask with a mocking behavior. 

“stop, y/n,” he grits out, “stop it,”

“fine,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. 

the room was filled with five people. your father, you, adam norris, lando norris, and some mean little woman who came in meaning business and barking orders. you respected her. 

your dad and lando’s dad had been business associates for a long time, never close friends, but acquaintances nonetheless. you had never met lando before, but had definitely heard about his escapades. 

“listen,” the woman starts again, “lando needs someone normal and successful on his arm, not anymore models or influencers that last only a day and alter his image, his image needs to be clean, squeaky clean,”

“oh my god,” you laugh out in disbelief, “i can’t believe i went to an ivy university just to be someone’s high end hooker-”

“Y/N!” you dad stands from his chair, “that’s enough out of you,”

“dad, this is ridiculous-”

“no its not, it’s business,” he stands firmly on his ground, “it’s four months of fake fucking dating just suck it up and do it,”

“fine,” you mumble out, “but only for you,”

your dad takes his seat again, grumbling out a few apologies to lando and his father along with the woman. they all just nod their head as she moves along with certain details. you finally look up from where you were fiddling with your fingers, making eye contact with your new ‘boyfriend’. he sends you a quiet look of reassurance, most likely that he didn’t want to be there either. you both give each other a smile, and your mind hopes that this might be okay. 

-

“so,” lando starts, attempting to break the tension on your first fake date.

“so,” you laugh, “how are you?”

“i think we can skip the pleasantries, y/n,” he chuckles, “we’ve technically been dating for four months?”

“oh right,” you continue to play along, “met you one week ago, but we’re madly in love,”

lando chuckles into his drink before the waiter comes over to get you started. once ordered, lando glances up at you, and you can’t help but find the small twinkle in his eye adorable. and then he speaks.

“you look like someone who i would go out with, without your personality, though”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you question in offense.

“i mean usually my type is-”

“girls with half a brain?” you attempt to finish for him, but he just sharpens his gaze in your direction, eyebrows furrowing at your accusation.

“no,” he denies, “just girls who are a bit quieter,”

“so, pushovers?”

“not exactly,”

“you just want a little hot minion to control?”

“no,” he tries again, attempting to find the right words, “someone who isn’t rude,”

“oh you think i’m rude?”

“did you hear yourself in the meeting? talking to your dad like that? acting like the smartest person in the room-”

“i was the smartest person in that room,” you bite back to him, “and i’m sorry i didn’t enjoy the action of being pimped out, it’s offensive to my degrees and accomplishments-”

“you aren’t being pimped out, it��s a favor-”

“oh,” you scoff, “a favor?”

“yes, a favor, you probably aren’t used to hearing that word because you’re so self-centered,” he pushes.

“and here’s two words you do probably hear often, fuck off,”

“the rest of this dinner will be in silence,” lando directs to you, the waiter now coming over with your food. 

“finally, something we can agree on,”

-

you and lando had now been fake dating for two months. you came and went from his races, he was here and there at events in your honor, you both were successfully fulfilling your duties. the public was eating it up, excited that lando was in his ‘boyfriend era’. you both in reality were still finding each other difficult. lando found you to be pretentious and rude, you found lando to be a spoiled dick. but that was all pushed aside when it came to being in public. 

you heard the knuckles wrap on your door, and you attempt to brush the tears from your eyes swiftly. shit. you had lost track of time while on the phone with your mom, well, arguing with your mom. you forgot that lando was meeting you at your apartment soon to take a pre scheduled outing. getting up after hearing the knock once more, you make your way to open the door. 

“hey,” he grunts out, before he looks at your reddened eyes, “what’s wrong?” his tone softens with the question. 

“nothing,” you brush off, “let me just redo my makeup and i’ll be ready to go,”

“wait, y/n,” lando stops you from leaving the room, “talk to me, what’s going on?”

“you don’t want to hear about this, lan,” he catches himself smiling at the nickname that slipped off your tongue. 

“i have a heart, y’know,” he jokes quietly to you, bringing his hand up to give you a slight poke in the ribs. 

“no, really?” you ask sarcastically.

“yes, now talk to me,” he laughs to you, still trying to break you out of your shell. 

“it’s just the divorce,” you shake your head, “my parents have made me their middle man since they’ve been separated, and now i have to be my sibling's therapist too,” you choke up, trying to swallow back your tears. 

“i’m sorry, y/n,” lando moves forward, beginning to wrap his arms around you. 

“i’ve just gotta be there for everyone,” you sigh, “it’s been like that since i was a kid, i’ll be fine,”

“well,” lando starts, “i can be there for you,”

“like hell,” you laugh off, starting your trek to the bathroom.

“i’m serious,” lando pushes, “i know we’re at each other's throats, but if you need anything, you can talk to me,”

“thanks,” you squeak out, “you’re not so bad, norris,”

“why thank you, y/l/n. you’re not so bad yourself,”

-

it was race day, and you were actually excited. you and lando had a breakthrough the night he caught you crying. you both finally broke down the wall that divided and protected your hearts. you were feeling better about spending the next few months with him, it was going to be a relief to actually enjoy it. 

“are you ready, y/n?” lando calls out from the other room. 

“yeah!” you shout back, sliding your left foot into your final shoe. lando steps out of the room, dripped head to toe in papaya, bag slung lightly over his shoulder. 

“you look great,” he lets go of the compliment and you find yourself blushing, choosing to stare down at your feet instead of making eye contact. lando holds his hand you and you grasp it eagerly, readying yourselves for the show about to be put on. or was it a show?

once at the track, your hands finally separate as he heads to the garage and you move towards where his father was standing. 

“hey, mr. norris,” you greet with a smile at the older gentleman.

“please, y/n. how many times do i have to tell you to call me adam?” he chuckles with you. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just too unnatural for me,”

“well please, try,” you continue with your laughs, “mr. norris is my father,”

“alright,” you giggle, cringing a bit before squeaking out, “adam,”

“there we go!” you both joke around a bit more before a certain curly-haired mclaren driver is jogging over to you both.

“hey, dad,” he greets adam with a quick pat to his shoulder, “can i steal her for a second?” adam nods, giving you both some space as lando starts dragging you over to a quieter area.

“what’s up, lan?” you ask him, a bit of concern in your voice since you were unsure of what was going on. 

“i need to talk to you,” he sighs out, eyes holding an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on.

“what’s going on? are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” he shakes off, now grabbing your hands in his, “i just- i just-”

“LANDO!” his engineer calls from the garage behind him, “WE NEED YOU IN THE CAR!”

“TWO SECONDS!” he yells back over his shoulder, now turning back to face you, “listen, i really like you,”

“oh,” your eyes widen in surprise but lando just keeps rambling. 

“and not in this fake, bullshit way. i want to really take you out even if you drive me crazy sometimes,”

“lando-” you try to cut him off, but he just keeps going. 

“i can’t handle your rejection before i race so, if you’re by the gate after i finish, i’ll take it as you feel the same way,” taking a deep breath after his confession, lando leans in, kissing you roughly before pulling away and running back to the garage. you stand there for a moment, trying to process what had happened before a smile breaks out across your face. 

lando came in fourth. you cheered and cried, jumped up and down with his family and friends, and then you took off. you started your sprint to the gate, ready to meet him and finally bask in your own happiness. ready to choose yourself for once. 

you rush towards the wall just as lando is climbing out of his car. his head whips around to the barrier, searching for your face. once spotted, he breaks out in a similar sprint as you did, rushing towards you for a hug. you breathe in the moment, you and lando holding each other, for real this time, finally. 

-

you both were a giggly mess as you made your way back to the hotel room. 

“you’re coming out tonight, right?” he asks, arms not leaving your waist since you had left the paddock. 

“yeah, i’m coming,” you reply, brushing your hands up and down his arms that were wrapped around your middle. 

“okay, good,” his forehead meets yours, relishing in the feeling of you being in his arms, in private, “so my room or yours tonight?” he asks in a joking tone, referring to the two bedroom suite you were in. 

“mine,” you laugh quietly, “it smells better,” you poke him in the stomach a bit and he just chuckles with you. 

“you don’t like the smell of my race gear, love?” 

“no thank you, sir,”

“alright, well go get ready, and we’ll head out in about an hour?” lando shoo’s you to your room, patting your bum as you turn around, causing you to blush as you exit. 

later, at the club, you’re seated in the vip area with some of the drivers and a few friends. lando’s arm has been wrapped around your shoulder or waist all night, the tension between you two turning slowly from annoyance to lust. kisses stolen when they can be, waist being squeezed, and overall eye contact has made you a puddle in lando’s hands. you were falling for him, deeply. and you could tell he was too. until. he spoke. 

“that’s a nice lady you’ve got on your arm there, lando,” one of the guys in the section shouts to your boyfriend. 

“thanks, mate,” he shouts back, pulling you closer into his side. the man approaches the both of you, beginning to chat to lando about his race earlier. your mind quietly drifts out of the conversation, before you’re pulled back in as the man, now learning his name to be jack, introduces you to his girlfriend. the both of them were very fitting for each other, eyes wide open with nothing going on behind them. 

you strike up a conversation with the woman in front you about her shoes, before glance over and finding your boyfriend eyeing her up and down with ease. he catches your eyes and looks away, his arm pulling you in even closer than before. you just scoff in his direction and begin to get up from your seating. lando lets out a quick apology to the couple in front of you before chasing after you out of the vip section.

“y/n! wait! where are you going?” he shouts over the music and into your ear.

“i’m leaving,” you grunt out, continuing pushing past people in your pursuit for the exit. 

“why?”

“oh please,” you let out a laugh, finally reaching your destination and swiftly leaving the building. now in a quieter atmosphere, lando drops his voice and grabs you, forcing you to look at him, “i saw you looking, lando,”

“what? at the girl with jack?”

“yeah, i saw you checking her out,” your face hardens, morphing into the one you sported the first two months of getting to know lando. the one you had on when you didn’t like him, scaring the man in front of you as he watches, “i thought you were different, but i guess then again, people never change-”

“stop, y/n,” lando sternly speaks, “i am different, i like you. not her,”

“funny way of showing it,” you laugh, “i mean the both of them couldn’t even handle an intelligent conversation if they tried,”

“it always comes back to this with you doesn’t it?” he asks, now pushing you towards his car and retrieving his keys. 

“what does that mean?”

“you always have to be the smartest, huh?”

“that’s not what that is,” you shake him off, the both of you now entering his car before you continue, “it’s just embarrassing that you would prefer beauty over brains,”

“i don’t do that,” he whips his head around to face you, “i just appreciate attractive women, are you saying smart women can’t also be attractive?”

“don’t twist my words,” you shoot back, “just drive the damn car,”

-

“i cannot stand you when you’re like this,” lando grunts out as you arrive back into your hotel room. 

“like what?” you push back, moving to place your hands on your hips in defiance, ready for the fight about to unfold. 

“a-an arrogant, selfish, cocky-” he starts to stutter out his list, but you promptly cut him off. 

“it sounds like you’re describing yourself there,”

“no, that’s all you,”

“oh really?” you taunt, your eyes boring into his with fire, “says the guy who has only one race win under his belt but acts like he’s big shit-”

“SHUT UP!” he screams out at you, but you only push him further. 

“you want to call me arrogant, baby, we both are. it’s the only fucking thing we have in common,” you mockingly laugh in his direction, his head now fuming.

“you’re so-”

“right? correct? because i am. we both are arrogant and confident however the hell you want to spin it, who the fuck says that’s a bad thing?” you ask him as his eyes start to soften, “and i am not arrogant. i’m good at what i do, that is a simple fact,” you huff, catching your breath after your anger begins to cool. 

“you are right,” he sighs, “i guess we’re so alike that we didn’t even notice,”

“i am not like you,” you shake your head.

“and why would that be such a bad thing? you met me at the gate, remember?”

“because i am not some womanizer who just uses girls, not taking one glance at anything but their tits,” you snap at him. 

“i didn’t use you, and you know i think you’re beautiful, y/n,” lando attempts to calm the situation, but it only riles you up further.

“oh fuck that,” you spit out, lando taking a step back from you in surprise at your reaction, “fuck beautiful, if you want to compliment me,” you sneer in his direction, bringing up a finger to point in his face, “compliment my brain,” with your final say, you turn quickly on your heel in order to walk out the door. 

“y/n!” lando shouts, “stop,” he jogs over to you, grabbing your arm and moving your body to face him, “listen, i’m sorry,” he sighs, his free hand not wrapped around your arm running down his face, “i know you’re pretty good at what you do,”

“pretty good?” you scoff, “i’m great,”

“i’m trying to apologize here,”

“then apologize, correctly,” you emphasize, sharpening your gaze at him, “and don’t be sorry, be better,”

“that’s what i’m trying to say,” lando pleads, “i’m trying to tell you that i will be better,” 

“don’t tell me, show me,” you push, “i’m not your little play thing, lando. i’m not one of your little side hoes with no brain and just eyes for your money,” he scoffs at your vulgar words, but let’s you continue, “i have my own money and my own brain. i am not a body and face to just show up on your arm, you want me like you say you want me?” you rhetorically ask him, inching your face closer to his, “you have to earn me,”

“i will earn you, y/n. i want to earn you,”

“acting like this won’t get you there. i deserve better,”

“i will be better,” now with your faces inches apart, trading breath from each other’s mouths, you and lando finally quiet your everlasting argument, “let me show you, please,”

“i don’t know you, i don’t know if you’ll just say this and then go back to being a dick when you get bored,” you release your insecurities to him, his eyes softening at your vulnerability - something you rarely let out. 

“do you know who anyone really is?” he asks you, voice now quiet and gentle as his hand that was gripping your arm now begins to softly stroke it, “that’s the beauty of life, y/n,”

“getting hurt?”

“no,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “the unknown,”

“i don’t like not knowing,” you sigh, your soft side now coming out fully.

“i know,” he breathes out, “you’ve always had your entire life planned for you, y/n. it’s time you just relax, and have the ability to be surprised,”

“but what if i do get hurt?”

“with me around?” he chuckles, moving a centimeter away from your face, “that won’t happen,” he gives your forehead a light peck, “and if it does,” now a peck on your nose, “i’ll be around to help you,” and finally your lips. you give a hum of appreciation to his lips, basking in the warmth they gave you. finally separating in order to catch your breath, your foreheads rest together, eyes never leaving the others, “you don’t have to be alone anymore, y/n. you don’t have to do it all by yourself,”

“thank you,” you sigh, tears beginning to form in your waterline, “for everything,”

“no, thank you,” he replies back quickly, “for bringing me back down to earth,”

“i’ll always be around to humble you,” you giggle in his arms as he laughs with you.

“and i, you,”

-

a/n - this is not proofread so i'm so sorry if its a rambling mess, i just had the idea and wanted to write it up before i lost it

[bombuni]

contains: soft jongho

“No.”

“No what?”

Jongho knows his firm words have not penetrated your emotional wall one bit. Realistically he could never deny you of anything, the use of the word ‘no’ with you completely foreign to him. But this time he just wants the future benefit of being able to say ‘I told you so.’

You hold the raggedy looking kitten in your arms as it eats out of the spoon Jongho holds out in front of it. Its mouth moves a mile a minute. He thinks it’s frighteningly tiny, quite ugly and smelly too. But you’re holding it like it’s a darling, million-dollar jewel with pure love in your eyes and he can’t help but be smitten with everything that is about you, you, you.

You wave it’s black paw towards Jongho, the smile on your face glowing, “Say hello, daddy,”

Jongho wants to grimace and deny you, but a laugh breaks loose out of him, “I am no one’s daddy,”

You raise a brow at that, and he already knows you’re going to say something stupid, so he shuts you up with a kiss to your forehead and takes the black furball out of your hands. It looks comedically small against Jongho’s larger frame, but he holds it like a gentle flower and you’re sure the kitten’s alright.

“We will keep him for one night,” your squeal of joy makes Jongho smile, “But, we’re not naming him, ok? And he’s going away in the morning time,” He doesn’t look up at you once while he’s talking and you’re sure your bribery to keep the kitten is working, despite what he may say.

“But look at him, honey,” you pout up at him, “So sad. So alone in the little cardboard box I found him in, you should’ve seen it,”

Jongho scrunches his nose, a scrutinizing look pointed at you, “You probably kidnapped him,”

You feign offense, “Did not! Someone totally abandoned him,”

He hums, too focused on the sound of the now sleeping kitten’s purrs. You lean your head on his shoulder, arms winding around his waist. He wants to laugh at how you’re seriously looking at the kitten like you’ve been waiting 9 months for it, but he’s suffocating on his adoration for you. He forgets that your sensitivity and gentleness is something that’s reserved for him. He forgets what a rare, beautiful sight you are. He forgets how big his love for you is, but good thing you’re here to remind him.

He speaks softly, “We should name him Bear.”

bom note: sorry i’m madly in love with jongho. as if it’s my fault. reqs are open :>

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.

“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."

Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll. 

He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are. 

“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”

Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words. 

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude. 

He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.

The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.

Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.

- - - - Read more cut - - - -

A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.

The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.

Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.

Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.

It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.

Geto wasn’t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.

Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.

His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.

At least I'm good at reading people…

“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”

…unlike my oblivious best friend.

“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”

Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.

“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”

Geto shot him an unamused look.

“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”

“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”

Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.

It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.

“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers. 

The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.

Damn him for having a nice body.

“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.

“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”

Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.

Did I just out myself?

“What do you get?”

“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”

The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.

“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”

Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.

Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.

Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.

(Complete fic on AO3)

[yoongiseesawmp3]

marigold - hongjoong (m)

part of the frat boy series.

summary: annoying frat boy!hongjoong. your best friend and the bane of your existence is probably the love of your life, and you’re not sure how to tell him. your mutual friend seonghwa knows about your true feelings for hongjoong, and he does everything in his power to get you two together. one halloween party, one rainy car ride and one emotional rollercoaster later, you finally get a taste of what you’ve been waiting so long for. 

word count: 12.7k

warnings: smut!!!! protected sex. some alcohol use. afab reader, gendered pronouns. kinda unedited!

“you’re joking right?” you ask with a scoff. “you can’t be serious right now.”

“but i am!” your best friend, hongjoong, says with a devious smile. “it’s a cute costume!”

“joong, it’s barely a costume,” you insist, pulling at the strands of fabric he’s dangling in front of you. “i’m not sure i could get into that let alone wear it at a party all night.”

“cmon, you’re gonna find the perfect man wearing this,” hongjoong says, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging your arm. “no offense my love, but you need to get laid.”

“no offense, my love,” you emphasize with a shove back against him, “but i’m not wearing that even if you paid me.”

“name your price.”

“oh baby you can’t afford me,” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

“FINE,” he sighs dramatically. “but you owe me.”

“just like you owe me for setting you up with that girl from my japanese class?”

“ahem,” a voice cuts in, pulling your collective focus away. seonghwa is standing in the doorway of their shared room, eyebrows raised. it seems like he quirks them further when he sees that you’re sharing the futon under hongjoong’s lofted bed, your feet draped over his lap and his hand casually on your knee. it’s comfortable, because you and hongjoong are so close, but seonghwa knows what’s really going on.

seonghwa knows that you’re deeply, madly in love with your best friend. you’ve been into him since you met at work a few years ago, and you drunkenly confessed to seonghwa at a party last month that you’ve been waiting for hongjoong to make a move for about....two years now. super casual, no need for alarm, but seonghwa has been a little mad at you ever since he found out because he knows you’re aware of how slutty hongjoong is, politely. he knows that you know hongjoong will never be a relationship guy, and you’re not necessarily looking for something long term, but you’d want to hold onto hongjoong longer than he’d like to stick around. that’s why you’re fine with being friends, at least you still get to see him all the time and share all the exciting parts of your life with him. but seonghwa is still pissed, because he thinks you’re better than that. 

“hey seonghwa,” you say first, and he slowly walks into the room.

“hope i’m not interrupting,” he says as he dumps his clean clothes onto his bed.

“not at all,” hongjoong replies, pushing your legs off him to go show seonghwa what he thinks is the perfect halloween costume. “look at this.”

“did you get into a fight?” seonghwa asks. “how’d your shirt get ruined?”

“it’s not mine,” hongjoong says. “it’s y/n’s. i think it’d be a great costume, but you disagree, don’t you?”

“i don’t want to be a sexy mummy,” you insist, taking up the space hongjoong left and sprawling out over the futon. “i’m sleeping here tonight, by the way.”

“we knew that,” hongjoong says, and seonghwa nods in confirmation.

“you don’t want to wear that, y/n?” seonghwa asks, making you sit up and glare at him. “it could attract the right attention.”

“what do you mean by that?” hongjoong questions, eyes whipping back and forth between you and hwa. “y/n’s into somebody?”

“no,” you say quickly before seonghwa can reply. “hwa’s just looking out for me like you are.” hongjoong holds your gaze a moment longer to make sure you’re not lying, and while he’s staring you down you see seonghwa rolling his eyes. hongjoong turns around to ask hwa a question and you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh.

“hey, i don’t like it when you guys have jokes i don’t understand,” hongjoong whines. “y/n’s my best friend, we should have inside jokes.”

“sorry man, i guess i just see a different side of her,” seonghwa says, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

“ok, whoa, don’t tell me you have a hard on for my best friend, man,” hongjoong replies defensively. he looks between you both and then his face softens as he goes on, “actually, you two would make a cute couple. have you ever thought about-”

“no!” you and seonghwa shout in unison. 

“ok, ok, sorry!” he says defensively. “but, like, have you thought about it...? even just a little bit?”

“i’m going to take a shower,” you say simply, standing up and grabbing a clean towel off of seonghwa’s bed. you ignore his protests as you head to the en suite that connects them to more of the boys living in the frat house, and you make sure the bathroom is free from frat-goers (or guests) before you get undressed. you hear seonghwa and hongjoong arguing through the door, but can’t make out the words. you choose to ignore it and turn the shower on, humming a song as you search for yunho’s body wash (it smells the best, sh!). maybe you’ll catch the end of the argument when you come back out.

-

“seriously, do you have a thing for y/n?” hongjoong asks seonghwa as soon as the bathroom door shuts.

“why are you so concerned? you don’t have a thing for her, do you?” seonghwa quips back, and hongjoong stutters out a response.

“i, no, i’m just saying, if you were into y/n i wouldn’t be opposed. you could dick her down-”

“stop talking.”

“-and maybe she’d get off my dick about how much i sleep around!” hongjoong finishes. “she needs to be reminded of the simple pleasures of being human.”

“why is she even friends with you?”

“you’re friends with me,” hongjoong points out, and seonghwa stares at him with a half folded shirt in his hands. 

“and do you think that’s by choice or by proximity?”

“careful or i’ll piss in your bed the next time i’m drunk.”

“do you two need to be left alone?” you ask, poking your head out of the bathroom to hear the end of the worst possible conversation ever. 

“hey sexy, sleeping without clothes on?” hongjoong asks, referring to your towel clad, post-shower body. 

“no jackass,” you say, cheeks heating up ever so slightly. “i forget this house is run by elderly rats so i left my clothes on the floor and now they’re soaked. i need a shirt to sleep in or something.”

“here,” seonghwa starts to pass you one of his clean ones, neatly folded into stacks on his bed. hongjoong beats him to it though, making it to his closet in two steps and pulling a shirt out for you. 

“you can wear this,” he says, tossing it to you and you thank him quietly but linger at the door. “need something else?”

“am i supposed to sleep commando? all my clothes are sopping wet,” you reiterate. “so i need. boxers. or pants.”

“you want em to match the shirt?” hongjoong asks, and you laugh even though he’s completely serious. 

“yes please,” you reply just to give him the chance to make something cute for you out of this awkward situation. 

“hmmm, ok,” he says, looking through his underwear drawer before pulling out a pair of boxer briefs for you. “these are probably clean.”

“probably?!”

“kidding,” he says as he slingshots them your way. miraculously you’re able to catch them and you thank him again before you duck back into the bathroom. when you come out a few minutes later, seonghwa is busy putting his clothes away and hongjoong is messing with pillows and blankets on the futon. 

“i could’ve done that,” you tell him, and he shakes his head.

“nope, i’m doing this for me,” he says. “you’re taking the bed.”

“hongjoong no-”

“no protests!” he insists. “let me be nice to you.”

“ok,” you reply meekly, gratefully taking the pillow he hands you.

“now give us a spin, let me see the fit,” he teases, and you roll your eyes at him.

“it’s just pajamas, it’s not a fit. it is cute though.”

“yeah, when you said you were giving her something that matched i thought you were gonna pull out your spongebob set,” seonghwa says with a sneaky smile. 

“you have spongebob pjs?!” you ask eagerly, and you catch hongjoong blushing. 

“only because hwa gave them to me!”

“because you asked for them! you liked my patrick ones so bad you wanted your own!”

“you guys have matching pjs?” you ask with a smile. “now that is just precious. maybe one day i’ll get sandy pjs and we can all match.”

“hey, that’s a good idea!” hongjoong says, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“what is?”

“us wearing matching costumes,” he continues. “for halloween.”

“no, don’t involve me in this,” seonghwa says with a shake of his head. 

“no,” you and hongjoong both whine.

“it would be cute, hwa!” you insist. 

“cmon, we’ve been friends long enough i think we’re long overdue for a throuple costume,” hongjoong agrees.

“don’t call it that,” seonghwa says, “and maybe i’ll consider it. if you come up with a good idea and find the costumes, i’ll do it.”

“deal,” hongjoong says happily, grabbing his phone to no doubt look for costume ideas. “turn the light off when you’re done being anal about your sock drawer?”

“fine.”

-

the next day, you wake up to the sound of seonghwa tripping over hongjoong’s shoes as he’s getting ready for class. a quick peek over the side of the bed lets you know that hongjoong isn’t in the room, did he have an early class you didn’t know about? you lift yourself up, alerting seonghwa of your presence, and he nods at you with a yawn.

“how’d you sleep?” he asks with a smack of his lips. 

“pretty good,” you reply, absentmindedly playing with the corner of hongjoong’s pillow. “these sheets are really soft.”

“yeah, hongjoong pays for designer bedding,” seonghwa says. “he’s a weirdo.”

“yep.”

“what do you see in him?” seonghwa asks bluntly. “i know you’re super into him, but why? why is he the guy you’re hung up on.”

“maybe hongjoong was right,” you start. “maybe you are into me.” a pillow flying at your head tells you you’re wrong. “hey!”

“i’m in a relationship, you dipshit,” seonghwa says.

“since when?!”

“for about a month,” seonghwa brushes it off. “we’re not talking about me. we’re talking about you and your sadistic interest in your best friend who, to my understanding, you just set up with one of your friends?”

“so you heard that?”

“why’d you do that?” hwa asks, sounding disappointed. “why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“i don’t know,” you shrug. “i know him better than anyone. i would know if he liked me back. so i guess i tried setting him up with my friend to trick myself into moving on? like maybe if he was really into someone else then i could finally get him off my mind.”

“y/n,” seonghwa sighs. “you deserve more than this. you can’t just wait around for him, or wait for yourself to get over him. maybe you do need to get laid.”

“you and joong make a charming pair, did you know that?” you ask with a smile. “i’ll try my best.”

“you know san-”

“always hits on me, i know,” you cut him off. “but he’s so much worse than hongjoong. you look up fuckboy in the dictionary and his picture is there instead of a definition.”

“i’m not saying you need to find mr. right, you just need something..fun,” seonghwa says carefully. “san could be that thing.”

“i’ll think about it,” you assure him. “is he here, do you know?”

“is who here?” hongjoong asks, busting back into the room with a carrier of coffee and a bag from mcdonald’s. “i’m right here baby.”

“i knew you didn’t have an early class,” you say, reaching down for the coffee you know is yours. seonghwa always gets hot chocolate (child) and joong drinks cold coffee even in the snow (madman) so it’s easy to distinguish them all. the first sip is heavenly, and you thank hongjoong as he climbs up into his lofted bed with you.

“hwa i didn’t know if you were hungry so i just got you a biscuit,” he starts, tossing the food down. seonghwa has to act fast, but thankfully he catches it. “and i got you that weird sandwich you like. it confused the poor girl in the drive thru though, i don’t think anyone ever orders it.”

“well i appreciate the effort,” you say as you snatch the delicacy from his hands.

“so what did i interrupt?” hongjoong asks, mouthful of hashbrown. “who are you looking for?”

“did you see san downstairs?” seonghwa asks, and hongjoong thinks for a minute.

“he might have just come home, yeah,” he says finally. “why, you lookin for him?”

“no, y/n is,” seonghwa smirks, and hongjoong stiffens next to you. “i’m trying to convince her to stop ignoring his courtship and just let the guy take her out.”

“why?” hongjoong asks defensively, and you look to him quickly, trying to read his expression. he turns to catch your eye, and you almost see...panic? worry? but it vanishes before you can identify it. “he’s a dick.”

“he’s your friend,” you say.

“yeah, and he’s a dick,” hongjoong repeats. “he just wants to get in your pants.”

“i’m sorry, didn’t we have a whole conversation last night about how you wished someone would blow my back out?”

“OH!” hongjoong shouts, shuffling around for his phone. “that reminds me, i figured out our costume!!!” 

you and seonghwa share a look, noticing how hongjoong ignored your question and changed the subject so quickly. the side glance is interrupted by hongjoong’s phone being shoved in your face, and you cackle at the picture in front of you.

“ok, that’s it,” you gasp through another laugh. “you can’t pick our costumes for anything, ever.”

“what is it?” seonghwa asks, scurrying over and standing on his tiptoes to see into the bed better. hongjoong shows him, and a slow smile creeps over seonghwa’s face.

“NO,” you say, “you LIKE it?!”

“what? it’s cute!” seonghwa says.

“thank you!” hongjoong shouts. “two against one, y/n, sorry.”

“ok, then it can be a couple costume,” you tell them as you shake your head. “i’m not doing that.”

“but we love this movie,” hongjoong pouts. “you’ll be boo, i’ll be sully, hwa will be mike wazowski, it’ll be perfect.”

“that’s what you said about the mummy.”

“i mean it this time.”

“wait, why am i wazowski?” hwa asks. 

“because of your big beautiful eyes. or should i say eye,” you joke, and hongjoong laughs, falling over into your side as he does. when he regains his composure, you feel like he’s closer than he was before, but maybe that’s just your imagination. “plus, your new little boo thing could be celia!”

“seonghwa has a celia?!” hongjoong asks, eyes wide. “ok, i officially don’t like you two knowing more about each other than i do.”

“aw does baby have main character syndrome?” you tease, pouting in joong’s direction. “hwa and i can be friends, shut up.”

“no,” he snips. “you hurt my feelings. and to make up for it, you have to be the boo to my sully.”

“fine,” you sigh dramatically. hongjoong leans in and pecks your cheek, thanking you profusely as he dives back into his breakfast, thrilled about the frat’s halloween party this weekend because the three of you are “totally gonna dominate the costume contest.” you don’t hear him though, too focused on the heat lingering on your cheek. you smile to yourself as joong blabbers on, and return to the food in front of you. maybe the costumes will be fun after all.

-

“hongjoong, no,” you insist, getting deja vu to the other night. “that can’t be my costume! why do you keep doing this to me?”

“why do you hate having fun?” hongjoong counters, pouting behind the shirt he’s holding up. this is supposed to be your entire costume?

“it’s freezing and you want me to wear a shirt and nothing else?”

“i got biker shorts!” he says, scrambling through a bag on his futon. “they look like boo’s shorts, so you can wear those and the shirt. what’s wrong with that? may i remind you that you agreed to this.”

“yeah, but i thought you were gonna get actual costumes.”

“these are costumes!”

“these are just clothes!” you argue, pointing to the goodwill bags on his bed. “you made it seem like you were gonna be in a full sully suit, so i thought i was gonna be in that fake monster suit boo wears. not clothes that could still get me hypothermia.”

“y/n please,” hongjoong begs. “i worked really hard to find these outfits, and i’m really proud of them. we’re gonna look so cute! and you’re ruining it!”

“i’m not ruining it,” you grumble, snatching the shirt from his hands. “i’ll do it.”

“thank you thank you thank you!” hongjoong cheers, kissing your cheeks repeatedly in gratitude. he finishes with one last peck on the tip of your nose, and you can’t help but smile at your annoying best friend.

“you’re welcome,” you sigh, grabbing the shorts too. “but move, i need to go to the bathroom and change.”

you shuffle past hongjoong and he says he’s going to find seonghwa to give him his pieces, and you nod before sneaking into the main part of the bathroom. you turn around and almost jump out of your skin, not expecting to see san in there. especially not a half naked san, because he’s in...red leather pants? and nothing else?

“jesus, you scared me,” you say, clutching your chest. 

“well i do live here,” he says with a smirk, eyeing the items in your hands. “costume?”

“yeah,” you nod. “you?”

“nah, this is just my loungewear,” he teases, getting you to crack a smile. 

“so what are you?” you ask, not so subtly checking him out. what kind of costume is just red pants? sexy santa?

“i’m the devil,” he responds, holding up a headband with horns on it to complete the look. 

“dressing in character i see,” you tease, and san pretends to look offended.

“do you need help getting into your costume, love?” he asks, motioning to your clothes, and you shake your head.

“no, thank you,” you say sternly. “but i might need help with the pigtails.”

a few minutes later, you’re in full boo (and freezing, why don’t they turn the heat on in here?) and san has you centered in the mirror with the most concentrated look on his face. he’s trying to get your pigtails to be the same height. the left one is done, perfect, and now he’s working on the right, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration. for once he’s quiet, not trying to hit on you, and as he smooths your hair to add the elastic, hongjoong comes bursting into the bathroom, causing san to let the hair tie go and slingshot against your head as a result.

“ow!” you shriek, elbowing san in his very warm, firm and exposed midriff. 

“sorry,” he says quickly, kissing the side of your head that got the hit. “all better?”

“what are you doing?” hongjoong asks coldly. you look at him through the mirror, san’s hand still gripping your hair and restricting your movement. you notice hongjoong leaned up against the bathroom door in his subtle sully costume, arms crossed over his chest.

“i’m helping y/n get dressed,” san says simply. “can you hand me another elastic, doll?”

“why, did the other one ricochet off my head and sail to the moon?”

“hey, i didn’t fling it that hard-”

“i can help her,” hongjoong cuts in, moving behind you to push san out of the way. “looks like you’re not dressed yet yourself.”

“nope, i’m all good,” san replies, winking at you in the mirror. “being a sexy devil doesn’t need much work.”

“who said you were sexy?”

“people,” san shrugs, catching your eye again. “i bet y/n agrees.”

“i’m not feeding your ego, san.”

“ugh, such a tease,” he whines. “i’m gonna go check on the drinks. i’ll see you down there?”

“maybe,” hongjoong answers for you curtly, slighting pulling your hair as he finishes the pigtail. you mutter a quiet ouch that goes unnoticed by the two men, and you roll your eyes. frat boys are so dramatic. hongjoong finishes your hair, adjusting a few things before patting the top of your head to signify he’s done. you turn around to face him, and the proximity almost takes your breath away. you stare at him closely for a second before speaking.

“so could you have been any ruder to san?”

“i wasn’t rude to the kid,” hongjoong says with a wave of his hand. “he’s a big boy, he can handle it anyway.”

“hm.”

“what?”

“nothing,” you shrug, pushing past hongjoong to go back into his room. you see seonghwa in there, adjusting his hair in the mirror on their door. he checks your costume and smiles.

“you look cute,” he says sweetly. then he sees hongjoong behind you. “you look mad.”

“hongjoong is jealous,” you tell him, gathering your phone and the cheap white sneakers you’ll wear tonight, even though it’s not necessarily part of the costume. you refuse to attend a frat party in just socks.

“i am not jealous!” hongjoong says defensively. is that a blush you see creeping up his neck?

“of who?” seonghwa perks up. “san?!”

“yeah, he was flirting with me and joong didn’t like it,” you explain. 

“i’m liking this,” seonghwa says with an evil smirk. “operation get y/n laid is in motion.”

“no!” hongjoong shouts, pulling your attention. 

“and why not?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow as you wait for a response. hongjoong sputters for a moment before he can get a real thought out.

“i...he...i don’t....ugh. fine, yeah. go fuck him, who cares.”

-

hongjoong doesn’t know why you and san being so buddy buddy has his blood boiling, but he sure doesn’t like it. he knows he started this whole "operation” but the thought of you spending the night at the frat and not ending up in his bed was...strange. 

wait, not like that though. like, you ending up in his bed as in he’s letting you sleep there while he’s on the futon. not like..fucking. or maybe that’s what his subconscious is trying to tell him? why else would he be so jealous? no. don’t even go there.

it could just be the fact that you’re such good friends and hongjoong doesn’t want to watch you get hurt by someone he knows will lose interest in you as soon as he gets his dick wet. yes, that’s it! that’s his story. not the him wanting you in his bed one, no. that’s weird. so he’ll just play up the protective friend card, and everyone will be happy in the end.

that’s what leads to hongjoong following you around all night, at least more than usual. typically he’ll slip away at some point to chase some ass, but tonight he’s everywhere you turn. you’re not complaining, you like the extra attention from him, but you also really enjoy the way san keeps checking you out, and hongjoong is preventing anything from happening there. 

“hey, i think my friend from class is here,” you say, pulling hongjoong down to your level to make sure he hears. your lips just grazing his ear has the hair on the back of his neck standing up, but he just shrugs it off.

“oh really?” he asks, looking over your shoulder to see the girl he was chasing earlier this week. you must not be that close with her, otherwise you’d know how brutally she turned him down. she looks good though, so good that he almost abandons ship and risks the humiliation of another rejection. but he sees san move closer out of the corner of his eye, and he refocuses on his main objective for the night. “i think i’m good right here.”

“while i’m flattered you want to spend time with me,” you begin, “i don’t need a babysitter. you can go talk to her, i don’t mind, really.”

hongjoong tries to object, but you actually start to push him away, so he decides he has to at least disappear for a minute or so to make you think he went to shoot his shot. thankfully she went into the dining room where there’s germ filled bowls of snacks, so he heads in that direction and passes right through to the kitchen to grab another drink. he makes too, one for him and one for you, and he’s working on his story as he walks back but the sight he returns to stops him dead in his tracks.

you’re in the same spot, except now you’re pinned to the wall by none other than choi san. and even though it’s dark, and hongjoong doesn’t have the best view, it looks like san’s trying to fuse your lips together by sheer force. hongjoong decides in a split second whether he should back off (he did say you needed to get laid) but he realizes it can’t be by choi san. forget whatever he said earlier, he’s stepping in. 

he walks up to you and feigns innocence, letting out an “oh!” once he’s within ear shot. your eyes shoot open and find his, and san notices your attention being pulled away. he doesn’t separate his lips from yours as he turns to follow where your eyes are looking nervously, and when san sees hongjoong he pulls away but places his hands firmly on your hips.

“hey man,” he says casually. “you having a good time?”

“i was,” hongjoong spits. “y/n i brought you a drink.”

“we’re kinda busy man,” san says a little more sternly. “we’ll catch up with you later.”

“y/n?” hongjoong asks, ignoring san. you look between the two men awkwardly, unsure of what to do. 

“i’m not thirsty,” you finally say, politely pushing the cup hongjoong has offered you away. “thanks though.”

“sure thing,” he grumbles, stomping off to god knows where. you watch him go, but san pushing your chin up to meet his sultry gaze pulls you back to the moment. 

hongjoong huffed his way through the party up to his room, trying not to think about what might be going on downstairs. only when he opens the door to his room, he sees seonghwa getting busy with his new girlfriend (hongjoong wasn’t sure she was real, this confirms that for sure). 

“oh god,” hongjoong groans, closing the door and shouting “sorry!” a few times for good measure. he doesn’t know where to go now, so he trudges his way to the stairs and plops down on the top step. he poured your drink into his own before heading to his room, and now he downs the double before sighing and leaning his head on the wall. he closes his eyes for a moment, unable to process his thoughts with all that’s going on around him. a drunken stranger stumbling out of the hall bathroom brings him back to reality, and he scoots out of the way as they walk treacherously downstairs. hongjoong watches them go, wondering how everyone else is having a better time at this party than him. when the partygoer reaches the end of the stairs and turns right to head back into the fray, hongjoong notices two people scurrying to the bedrooms on the main floor. he recognizes the pink shirt and red leather pants, and you make eye contact with your best friend as san leads you into his room. hongjoong just watches on as you get pulled in, and after moping for a moment longer, he stands and heads back to the party. if he can’t stop you from getting seduced by his new mortal enemy, then he’ll just go drown his sorrows until hopefully seonghwa and his girl tire out so he can just sneak into bed later and hate himself for getting into this situation in the first place. 

-

“so,” san starts, standing in front of you in his dimly lit room. there’s one line of led lights on the back wall, lit red to keep up with his devilish theme tonight. “what now, love?”

“what, you talk a big game and then when it comes time to take off my pants you just back down?” you laugh, and san shakes his head. 

“no, i’m very familiar with what happens next,” he assures you. “i just didn’t know if this is what you really wanted. if i’m what you wanted.”

“what do you mean? my tongue down your throat didn’t confirm that for you?”

“no baby,” he laughs. “i just...got a vibe from hongjoong earlier. a few times tonight, actually. he doesn’t like this.”

“no, he’s never been this..protective before,” you start, and san cuts you off.

“he’s not being protective, he’s jealous y/n,” san says. “has he told you he likes you yet?”

“no?” you scoff. “he doesn’t like me. what makes you say that? no, no. he’s not into me like that.”

“but you like him,” san says as more of a statement than a question, and you just nod. 

“i love him, actually.”

“wow,” he whistles. “i’m honored to have been in the running then.”

“you weren’t a bad distraction,” you say, and san smiles, his resolve almost breaking. but he’s nothing if not nosy. and now he needs every little detail. 

“so tell me. how long have you been into hongjoong?”

“about since the day i met him.”

“wow,” he whistles again, and you whine. 

“it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” you ask, and san shuts you up quickly.

“no! no,” he says, “it’s sweet. it’s frustrating though, because, as a completely unbiased third party, i’d say hongjoong has had a thing for you about as long.”

“he has not-”

“no, hear me out,” san says. “you probably never heard this, but anytime he met someone new he would always make a comment about how something they did or said or wore reminded him of you. he’d stop seeing people because they weren’t “more like y/n” and when he wasn’t talking about clothes or stupid guy stuff, he was talking about you. the man is obsessed with you my dear. i just think he’s oblivious. and a little dumb, for spending so much time with you without making a move, but that’s just me.”

“i don’t know,” you mumble, playing with the hem of your shirt. “i know him better than anyone else. i would’ve known.”

“ok, lemme ask a question,” san tries a new approach. “have you ever told him you liked him?” you shake your head no. “have you ever done anything to explicitly show him that you were into him as more than a friend?” again, no. “and why is that?”

“i know he doesn’t feel the same,” you say simply.

“ok, and? what if he feels the exact same way? what if he’s so sure you couldn’t like him back, and that’s why he hasn’t shown any of his true feelings?”

“that could be possible,” you nod, and san nods in agreement. 

“so,” he nudges you. “what now?”

“i don’t know,” you whine. “i’m nervous. and joong is in a mood. i think we really pissed him off.”

“yeah we did,” san smiles proudly. “so you have two options, methinks.”

“methinks?”

“focus.”

“sorry.”

“you can either go find him and tell him how you really feel and make sweet sweet love-”

“don’t say it like that-”

“or you could stay here, and we could make him a little more jealous? maybe make him confess first?”

“...i’m listening.”

-

while you and san had a come to jesus downstairs, hongjoong had stumbled back to the steps in front of his room, dissatisfied with the party downstairs and how everyone there wasn’t you. all he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep, but just because he was having a crappy night doesn’t mean he should bring seonghwa down with him. he’s trying to wait it out and give them a respectable amount of time to...finish up, and then he’ll politely knock and put some headphones in and blare music until the shots he did with some strangers knock him out for a few hours. he’s planning this in his head when someone sits down next to him, and he’s surprised to see seonghwa.

“hey,” he says casually.

“hey?” hongjoong replies, confused. “you um, you all done in there?”

“gross,” seonghwa groans. “but yes, thank you very much. she’s asleep, so don’t be a dick if you’re going back in there. i wanted to come check on you.”

“i don’t need to be checked on,” hongjoong grumbles, nursing the beer he brought with him to pass the time. “i’m just tired, ready for this to be over.”

“y/n got with san, i assume?” seonghwa asks, and hongjoong can’t even be surprised that he knew. san had been plotting this for a while, it was a long time coming. even more reason for joong to be mad at himself, he could’ve stopped this weeks ago. instead here he is, drunk and hurt and a little angry. 

“yep.”

“and you’re mad about it?”

“yeah, hwa i am.”

“and why is that?”

“what is this, a therapy session?” hongjoong scoffs. “i’m fine dude, go back to your girlfriend. i’ll go to sleep in a second.”

“fine, if you won’t admit you like y/n and you were jealous of san tonight, maybe we can do this tomorrow then,” seonghwa says as he stands. hongjoong looks up in shock, and seonghwa nods. “yeah man, you weren’t subtle about it.”

“i fucked up man,” he says and seonghwa sits back down, nodding. “i shouldn’t have talked about setting her up so much, i feel like this is all my fault.”

“it is,” hwa agrees, and hongjoong pushes him slightly. “don’t get mad at me for pointing out what you know is true. you’re in this position because it took you too long to realize your own feelings, and that kept you from noticing how madly in love y/n is with you.”

“she is not-”

“is too!” seonghwa insists. “she told me! and i have eyes, it’s not hard to see. except if you’re you, i guess.”

“so what do i do now?”

“well, you could go talk to her.”

“i’ve already walked in on one couple having sex tonight, i’m good thanks.”

“sorry about that,” seonghwa says sheepishly. “but you don’t know that they’re fucking-”

“i watched her follow him into his room,” hongjoong cuts him off, and seonghwa nods.

“i still say you should try to talk to her tonight,” seonghwa says, “even if it means...waiting.”

“i don’t think i want to tell y/n how i feel when i know san has just fucked her though,” hongjoong counters, and seonghwa just shrugs. 

“ok, then i’m back to what i said originally. go talk to her now. just don’t open your eyes immediately.” hongjoong sits for a moment, thinking it over, and then he crushes the rest of the beer in his hand before he stands. he doesn’t need to tell seonghwa where he’s going, he just watches on with veiled concern. hongjoong stomps downstairs, stopping in front of san’s door, and just as he raises his fist to bang on it and get you out of there, it swings open with another sight that makes his stomach drop.

you’re on your way out, which should be a good sign, except your hair is down (and a little messy, like someone’s hands were running through it) and you’re no longer wearing your costume. in fact, your costume is clutched in your hands, and you’re wearing what hongjoong can only assume is san’s hoodie and sweatpants. he’s too late, he thinks. he’s caught your walk of shame, leaving san’s room after...he stops himself. hongjoong takes in the sight before him, and he holds your confused gaze for a moment longer. then he turns, and he’s gone. 

-

after halloween, you don’t hear from hongjoong for days. 

no calls, no texts, and certainly no visiting the frat house to hang out. it was complete radio silence from him, but you weren’t making an effort either. you’re not sure how you feel about him currently, so the space might be good for the both of you.

while you’re upset, but mostly doing okay, hongjoong is a wreck. he didn’t get out of bed until seonghwa and yunho sat on the futon and kicked hongjoong’s bed from down below until he got annoyed enough to leave. then he only went to class because another guy in the frat, jongho, was in there with him and literally pulled him out of his room and towards campus. no one’s sure if he’s even eaten, but food disappears from the fridge every once in a while so he must be getting some nutrition. san has laid low too, not sure hongjoong knows the full story and worried there would be hell to pay if hongjoong got within swinging distance. 

you’re walking home from class one day, contemplating a coffee break, when you almost physically run into seonghwa. you start to mumble an apology and a “see you later” but suddenly he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you down a hallway. 

“well hello to you too seonghwa, how are you? i’m doing fine thanks for asking,” you huff, resetting yourself once he’s done manhandling you.

“what happened between you and san?” he asks bluntly. 

“why do you care?”

“you know why,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “you know he saw you go into san’s room.”

“yeah, i saw him too, sitting on the stairs not doing anything,” you counter, and now seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i’m tired of the two of you complaining about no one doing anything. you need to do something!”

“i did! i made out with san!”

“made out with him?” he asks. “is that all?”

“yes,” you answer quietly. “i...i couldn’t do it. and for what it’s worth, san apparently clocked that me and hongjoong had something going on so he wouldn’t have let me try anything anyway.”

“but hongjoong said you left in his clothes,” seonghwa says, confused.

“yeah, because i wasn’t gonna stay there and i needed something warm to walk home in,” you explain. “hongjoong didn’t plan for weather when he bought my costume. san was just trying to help.”

“well he helped a lot,” seonghwa says. “hongjoong thinks you two slept together and now he’s moping around like his life is over. you need to talk to him. tell him what really happened.”

“he’s not talking to me.”

“gee, i wonder why!”

“fine,” you sigh, giving seonghwa the side eye. he can be a little bitchy when he’s in problem solver mode. “i’ll call him when i get home.”

“good. i’ll know if you don’t,” he warns you, and you nod. 

“we’ll talk, i promise,” you assure him, and he pretends to believe you as he says goodbye. he starts to walk away and you stop him, calling out, “is he home right now?”

“yep,” seonghwa shouts from further down the hall. “better go now, before any of the guys come back from class. i’ll spend the night somewhere else.”

“thank you,” you say with a meek smile, and seonghwa gives you one back. he keeps walking, and you take a deep breath before making your way to hongjoong.

-

seonghwa said none of the boys would be home, so you spend some time on the front porch psyching yourself up to see hongjoong. you practice what you’re going to say, and after a few minutes of weirding out the neighbors, you finally knock. it takes a second for the door to open, and you’re expecting hongjoong but instead you see san. he gives you a small smile, a questioning look in his eyes. you open your mouth to speak, hongjoong’s name on the tip of your tongue, when you see him heading downstairs over san’s shoulder. he catches your eye, and your heart stops. he looks awful, like he’s been sick. is he really like this because of you? hongjoong looks at you, and then who he assumes you’re here to see, and anger flashes over his features. he gives you one hard stare before he’s stomping back up to his room, leaving you still sputtering at the front door. san watches on, a little worried, and when you look up at him he asks if you still want to come in. you shake your head no, waving goodbye as you turn and walk back home. 

-

unfortunately for you, it’s hongjoong’s birthday. it’s unfortunate because he’s still not talking to you, but he’s your best friend, so it would look really weird if you weren’t at his birthday party. you don’t want to go because it’ll be awkward, and you don’t wanna burden his special day with that. he’s decided he wants to go to the fall festival just outside the city, opting for a walk through an apple orchard and then a pumpkin patch so the boys can gather the discounted gourds for some weird prank they’re trying to pull on a neighboring frat. it sounds like a fun day, and you only know about it because you were added to the group text, which stings a little. usually you’d help hongjoong plan, or you’d be organizing some sort of special surprise for him. none of that this year. 

you agree to ride with seonghwa and his girlfriend, who seems really sweet. you’re excited to get to know her on the short ride over, and it starts off as a pleasant day. hongjoong is nice to you when he gets out of the car with his brother and some of his friends from home, introducing you to the ones you don’t know and still giving you a tight hug when you hand over your poorly wrapped present for him. you all putter around as you wait for some of the other boys to show up, and hongjoong makes a subtle effort to keep at least two people between you at all times. bless seonghwa’s girlfriend though, maybe she knows what’s going on between you two, because she keeps talking to you and you like her more and more. 

once everyone has arrived, hongjoong explains that you can all pick apples in the orchard and then take them back to the cidery where they’ll press what you picked into your own cider to take home, and while you wait there’s drinks you can sample. there’s also a wildflower field to take pictures in, which seems very on brand for hongjoong (he’s got a new camera strapped around his neck, must have been a present) and once he’s done talking you all mingle for a moment before going off in twos or threes to the orchard. seonghwa swoops his girlfriend away first so they can go be cute together, and you would go join hongjoong’s brother to catch up with him but he’s nowhere to be seen, so you consider just heading straight to the cidery to drown your sorrows. you turn in that direction and see hongjoong waiting for you, awkwardly clutching your present in his hands. 

“i uh, i didn’t want to carry this through the orchard,” he starts, “don’t want it to get lost. so uh, i was gonna open it before i left, is that ok?”

“yeah,” you nod. “go ahead. i hope you like it.”

“i’m sure i will,” he says as he tears into the old newspaper you used as wrapping paper. he sees the corner of what’s inside, and recognition instantly lights up his face. “y/n you didn’t.”

“didn’t what?” you ask, trying to fight a smile. 

“you bought me the beat pad i wanted,” he says in disbelief. “it’s the special edition one and everything. how did you know?”

“gee, it’s not like you didn’t talk about it for weeks before and after it dropped,” you tease. “i got one of the first releases.”

“there’s no way,” he says, shaking his head as he unboxes it further. “it’s beautiful. thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” you say with a genuine smile. “just remember me when you’re a big famous producer. or when you start your own fashion line, whatever.”

“you’re not gonna be by my side when it happens?” he pouts, and it almost tears your heart in two.

“i don’t know,” you say. “i’m not entirely sure where we stand right now.”

“that’s my fault,” he sighs. “i’m really sorry. i hope you can forgive me for being a dick, but i understand if it’ll take some time.”

“you never let me explain what actually happened,” you say, and he nods, telling you that seonghwa filled him in. “so i guess you know.”

“about you and san? yeah, like i said, hwa told me-”

“no, i mean,” you start, and you stop to take a breath before you continue. “so you know that i like you. that i’ve liked you for a while. years, actually. i hope that’s not weird.” 

“it’s not weird,” he says sweetly. “i’ve liked you about as long, so. there’s that.”

“cool, so everyone’s caught up,” you nod. “coolcoolcool.”

“yep.”

there’s an awkward moment as you stand there and hongjoong plays around with his gift a little more, but he gets distracted by the camera around his neck and thankfully interrupts this terrible silence.

“oh! let me get a picture of you,” he says. “i want photos of everyone who came today. go stand over there.” you follow his orders and pose simply as he snaps the photo, looking on proudly at the result. “cute. cmon, let’s go get some more further into the orchard.”

“yeah, you’re missing out on your party, birthday boy,” you say while he carefully puts your gift back in his car. when he rejoins you, you offer your hand, and he smiles brightly as he grabs it and gives it a squeeze. “ready?”

“just a second,” he says, tongue poking out between his lips as he tries to take a photo of your intertwined fingers, and you laugh. 

“cmon, stop being a simp and let’s go,” you give his arm a tug and he shrieks over you messing up the picture, and how he only has so much film and you just ruined a perfectly good moment, but you shoot him a silent glare and he smiles a dopey smile and shuts up. you start walking and you think fast, grabbing a basket for any apples you may grab on your walk. hongjoong explains how the website said there were different types of apples in certain areas, and you listen on in fascination as you watch him talk. you’re admiring how cute he looks with his bangs peeking past his beanie, and you stop him abruptly. “hand me the camera.”

“why?” he asks defensively, yanking it away like a child.

“joong, let me get a picture of you,” you beg. “you look handsome, and we need a picture of you too.”

he grumbles over being careful with his baby, and he quickly shows you how to use it. he waits for a moment, assuming you’ll take the picture then and there, but you eventually tell him that it needs to be candid, like when the inspiration struck you. he whines and you distract him by asking what kind of apples are in the tree behind him, and he says they might be honeycrisp so this would be a good spot to pick from. you hand him the basket and let him reach for the best lookers, and you let him get focused before you call out for him.

“hey baby?” you try out, and hongjoong turns, apple in hand and a shy smile on his face. 

“baby?” he asks, not sure he heard you right but hoping he did. that’s when you snap the photo, cheering about how perfect that picture is gonna be. 

“ok, you can have this back now,” you say happily, returning his “baby” back to him. he gives you a sweet smile and grabs your hand before you continue on. you stop shortly after to grab some golden apples, and at the next cluster of trees you finally catch up with the group. they’ve found the wildflowers, and everyone is stopping to take pictures, which hongjoong quickly barges in on. as soon as he leaves your side, seonghwa appears, giving you a look that says he wants to know what took you so long.

“we made up,” you tell him, and he let’s out a sigh of relief.

“thank god.”

“don’t be a dick.”

“well! it took you long enough!”

“i know that,” you hiss, smiling at hongjoong posing for a picture with his brother. 

“he looks happy,” seonghwa points out and you agree. “you made him like that, with your womanly wiles and whatnot.”

“hey, speaking of womanly wiles,” you begin, “your girlfriend is really nice.”

“i concur.”

“maybe we could-”

“y/n!” hongjoong shouts, waving you over. “cmere!”

“your boyfriend wants you,” seonghwa says with a smirk, and you push him a little. 

“he’s not my boyfriend yet.”

“beg to differ, but ok!”

“what’s up?” you ask as you approach. “i thought you already got a picture of me?”

“yeah, but i want a picture in front of the marigolds,” he says like it’s obvious. 

“there’s marigolds?!” you ask, looking at the colors behind you and smiling when you spot the buds you love so much. you turn back to hongjoong and say, “you know those are my fav-”

“your favorite flower, right,” he says, pulling you into his side. “come closer, act like you like me.”

“actually, they’re not flowers,” you tell him, “they’re weeds. you’re supposed to pick them or else they’ll take over.”

“smile,” he says, and yunho snaps the picture for you. hongjoong bends down, pulling up a bundle of marigolds before handing them to you. “thanks for picking me.”

“oh that was so corny,” you groan, a smile threatening to split your face in half. “what happened to the suave frat boy? who brought their dad here?”

“watch it or i’ll take them back-” he starts, but he stops when you place your hand under his chin and pull him closer. 

“no, i love it. i love them,” you assure him, centimeters away from his lips.

“i love you,” he whispers, and you lean in to finally, finally, kiss him. and suddenly it feels like everything is right with the world.

while you’re distracted by hongjoong’s lips, the hoots and hollers of your friends drown out the sound of another camera shutter, and yunho boasting about his perfect shot pulls you back to reality. you try to ignore the smug looks of your friends but apparently everyone knew about your crush aside from you, so this positive shift is shared throughout the group pretty quickly. no one dares break the two of you up, and that’s how you end up riding home with hongjoong at the end of the day. 

while there was the most beautiful weather during your time at the orchard, the ride home is trying to completely ruin your day. it gets so bad once you and hongjoong are driving back to the city that you insist on pulling off for a while to let the storm pass, but hongjoong insists on driving farther.

“we’re almost at our exit,” he says. “so if i can just get to your house then we can go up to your room,” he continues, wiggling his eyebrows at his last comment. 

“sure, but i don’t think this storm is gonna let us do that,” you tell him. “slow down a little so i can see this exit sign.” hongjoong doesn’t let up on the gas, so you don’t quite catch the sign passing by next to you. “okay genius, my spidey senses aren’t working, maybe we should just pull off here.”

“are you sure?” hongjoong asks. “we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“i’d rather be in the middle of nowhere than stuck on the highway waiting for a tow truck with a bunch of other people who can’t see through the rain driving by super fast,” you oppose, and hongjoong quickly agrees. he waits until there’s a track of highway well lit by streetlights, and he pulls off under a tree in full view of the exit. just in case you get snatched he wants there to be witnesses. 

“do you wanna play i spy?” he offers, and you just laugh. 

“are we five?”

“i spy something pretty.”

“that’s not how it works.” 

“well too bad,” hongjoong insists. “i spy something pretty.”

“your eyes,” you guess, and he shakes his head. “your smile.”

“how conceited would i be if i made you guess something about myself?” he asks. “keep trying. don’t focus on me though.”

“is it something nearby?” you ask, and hongjoong shrugs. “is it in the car?” he nods furiously. “and it’s not you? you’re very pretty.”

“no,” he insists, “keep guessing.”

“if you’re trying to make me guess myself it’s not going to work,” you warn him. “i’m not falling for your tricks.”

“darn,” he sighs. “you ruined my whole move.”

“that couldn’t have been your whole move,” you say unsure. “what’s your go to?”

“well,” hongjoong begins. “i don’t do this often, if that’s what you’re wondering. i usually start off with a comment about the place, so i say whatever we’re doing is really cool or the paintings are beautiful, whatever. and whatever the compliment is, i work it back to my date. everyone always eats that up.”

“i’m glad i’m here to keep you on your toes,” you tease. 

“yeah, whatever,” hongjoong rolls his eyes. “what’s your move then?”

“it’s simple, really,” you assure him, turning to look directly in his eyes. “i just make sure to really look at whoever i’m talking to, really listen to what you’re saying, y’know? then i pull them in,” you say, grabbing hongjoong delicately by the chin and bringing his lips closer to yours. “and then i usually tell him something important, our lips barely touching. and then, if i’m feeling it and he hasn’t moved away, we kiss.”

“i’m not moving,” hongjoong says confidently, and you smile.

“i see that.”

“and we’re gonna be here for a while...”

“mhm.”

“so i think we should do something fun,” he says, pecking your lips quickly. he notes how you chase his lips as he pulls away, and he makes a proposition. “we could go into the backseat...”

“should we really have sex on the side of the road?”

“well what do you want me to suggest!” hongjoong whines. “we have nothing better to do, might as well try it out now!”

“wow, how romantic this man of mine is,” you joke, and hongjoong laughs. he’s still staring at you though, waiting for a response. “you really want to?”

“what did you think we would do when we got home?” he asks shyly. “i’m just trying to use our time wisely.”

“wow, really, if you’re trying to get me hot with all this talk-”

“baby,” he whines, kissing you once so quick you barely notice. “please. let’s at least go make out or something. it’s my birthday after all.”

“oh not fair,” you whine back. “you can’t pull the birthday card on me!”

“cmon baby, for my birthday?” he pouts again, finally getting you to crack.

“okay, but don’t look while i climb into the backseat, it’s gonna be awkward.”

“i’ll look as much as i want, it’s my birthday,” he says as you pull your way over the console. while you’re brushing aside his jacket from earlier, he takes this opportunity to caress and smack your ass, and you laugh a little at the sound of glee he makes in response. 

“you are such a guy.”

“i’m your guy,” he says with a wink as you plop down in the backseat and reach for him quickly. 

“move with a purpose please,” you urge, and he moves to join you as fast as he can. once he’s seated as close to you as he possibly can be, he pretends to yawn and puts his arm around your shoulder. you watch in fake disgust at the old school move but lay your head on his shoulder anyway. “hey.”

“hey.”

“so now what?” you ask, not moving from this very comfortable position. hongjoong hums in response, and you turn to place your chin on his shoulder and watch him as he thinks. he catches you off guard, kissing you before you even know it’s coming, and the sound of surprise has him letting out a laugh from deep within his chest. 

“do you know how cute you are?” he asks. 

“no, tell me.”

“i’ve always wanted to just wax poetic about about how everything you do drives me insane,” he starts, “and now i can. hope you’re ready for it love.” 

now it’s your turn to steal a kiss, your heart swelling at hongjoong’s words. only this time neither of you pulls back, and what started off as innocent is quickly turning pg13. it registers in your mind for a moment that, wow, you’re in hongjoong’s car making out with your best friend, but that only makes your heart warm even more. you’ve wanted this moment for so long, you’ve wanted him for so long, and he’s finally here. he’s finally yours.

you’re pulled from your thoughts by hongjoong mumbling into your mouth that he wants you in his lap so you maneuver yourself to straddle his legs. before you settle back down he shakes his head, breaking from the kiss.

“no, not like that,” he tells you, lifting you up by the hips and placing you back down so you’re just straddling one leg. you don’t think anything of it at first, and you go back to kissing joong’s swollen lips. his hands stay on your hips, gripping tighter and tighter until you feel a change in pressure and you realize he’s guiding you to grind along his thigh. you take the hint and brace yourself on his shoulders, gasping as he bounces his leg under you. 

“what’s wrong baby?” he asks in mock innocence. “don’t like it?” you just whine and shake your head, grinding down harder as hongjoong lets you set the pace. the layers of clothes between you are making this infinitely more frustrating, but hongjoong has captured your lips again and doesn’t seem to be interested in removing anything yet. 

“joong,” you whisper between kisses. “need more.”

“what, can’t come like this?” he asks, and you shake your head. “too bad.”

he dives back into another kiss, his hands leaving your waist knowing that you’ll keep up the pace for him. instead he focuses on pulling your shirt up just enough to trace under your bra, and you moan into his mouth when he slides a finger under the fabric and just barely grazes your tit.

“you’re so sensitive,” he smiles. “i like that.”

“please baby, i need more,” you say again, and this time he gives in. 

“fine,” he sighs. “get undressed.”

“will you help me?”

“so needy,” he complains, but helps you anyway. as you pull your shirt off, he works on undoing your pants. he cups your head so you don’t hit it on the ceiling as you raise up to slip your pants off, but before you can get rid of your panties honjoong is pulling you back down to his thigh. “that’s enough for now,” he decides, fingers tracing along the outline of your bra before trailing down to your panties. his hand dips to your core, finding the wet spot on the fabric and grinning. “man, you are sensitive. all this and we’ve barely started, baby.” 

“are you gonna fuck me back here or do i have to keep getting off on your thigh?” you ask.

“hmm, you’ll come on my thigh and then we’ll see if you deserve to get fucked.”

“are you always this mean in bed?” you whine, and hongjoong chuckles in response. 

“are you always this difficult? i said get off on my thigh,” he demands, and you don’t know if it’s the temperature of the car or his words that sends a chill down your spine. you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him once before you lock your hands and get back to work, grinding down on his tensed thigh. you’ve shifted slightly so now you can feel his boner nudging your leg with each roll of your hips, and you can tell hongjoong is holding back whimpers at the contact. he bounces his thigh again unexpectedly, giving you a jolt that sends your forehead crashing into his. you both start laughing, but even that slight movement has you shaking in his lap. you keep your forehead pressed to his as you move again, gasping at the feeling of his hand sliding from your waist down to ghost over your clothed clit. 

“touch me,” you beg, eyes pleading, and hongjoong can’t deny you what you want when you’re asking so sweetly. he holds eye contact with you as his hand dips into your panties, collecting some of your arousal before connecting with your clit. you keep dragging your hips, doing most of the work but hongjoong helps by rotating little circles on your bundle of nerves, sending you closer to your high with each touch. 

“that’s it baby, gonna come for me?” he asks and you can only nod. “need you to use your words.”

“yes baby, almost there,” you whine, hips moving faster to chase the feeling. hongjoong picks up speed rubbing into your clit, and his encouraging words help you come crashing down with a gasping breath. “need to do that again, need to make you feel good.”

“if you insist baby,” hongjoong says. “doing so good for me.”

“how do you want me?” you ask, lazily kissing his neck as you catch your breath. hongjoong squeezes your hips in response and helps you situate yourself so you’re sitting down next to him. 

“i want you several ways,” he says with lust in his eyes. “not sure how i wanna start.”

“ok, you think and i’m gonna take a minute,” you tell him as you close your eyes and try to regulate your heartbeat back to a normal pace. being with hongjoong has your senses heightened, so even though it was a little orgasm you feel like you just ran a marathon. while you’re trying to remember how to breathe normally, you feel hongjoong nudging at your legs so you let him move you where he wants. your eyes remain closed, until you feel hongjoong’s lips kissing over your soiled panties and you gasp, sitting up and instinctively pushing him back. “get outta there!”

“baby i don’t know how this is gonna work if you’re saying shit like that,” he laughs, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he rubs your thighs to calm you down. “what’s wrong? want me to stop?”

“no, no,” you assure him. “i just. it surprised me a little. i still can’t believe this is happening. doesn’t feel real.”

“it’s very real baby,” he says, pulling your underwear to the side to start stroking your entrance. “can i try again?” you simply nod, a whimper threatening to escape. hongjoong lets his finger gather some of your slick before he’s pulling your panties harder, exposing your clit to his hungry gaze. he gets to work rubbing soft circles on it while his lips kiss up and down your thighs, making you squirm. you want more, but this is almost too much for you, so you don’t want to ask just yet. you just let your head fall back on the seat and let out a shaky breath, but hongjoong doesn’t like that. he stops all movement and slaps your thigh, sharply pulling your attention back to him. “nope, eyes on me the whole time my love. need you watching every move i make or i stop moving.”

“ok,” you agree, eyes meeting his. he looks like he’s ready to devour you, and as you hold eye contact with him he starts to do just that, his tongue replacing his hand on your clit. he starts with kitten licks that have you whining for more, and when he thinks you’ve had enough he swipes his tongue all the way down to your core. 

“mmf, you’re the sweetest birthday cake i’ve ever had,” he mumbles into your pussy.

“ew hongjoong,” you laugh, and he literally growls into your core. 

“it’s true,” he says, eyes meeting yours again. “i could eat you out every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“promise?” you ask, getting cocky too soon because he moves back up to suck your clit and brings a finger back to your core, slipping it in quickly. he only pumps once or twice before he inserts another, curling them both to find your g spot. he’s frantic but in a practiced way, like he definitely knows what he’s doing but he can’t wait to feel every part of you, taste every part of you. he keeps making out with your clit and starts scissoring his fingers to open you up, and you let out a shriek at the new sensation. 

“more of that baby,” he says, “let me hear you. there’s no one around to stay quiet for, let me know how good you feel.”

“it’s good hongjoong,” you tell him, hips bucking to meet the stroke of his hand. you’re stuffed with his fingers, his tongue on your clit, and it’s still not enough. “i want more. need more of you. need it all, baby.” 

“no i wanna eat you out-”

“hongjoong!” you whine.

“y/n!” he whines back, but one look at you tells him he’s lost this fight. he licks from your core up to your clit one last time, swirling the nub for good measure and making you jolt. he sits up from his cramped position and huffs. “i don’t know how to get you where i want you for this.”

“fucking in the car was your idea,” you point out, and he groans, head falling against your thigh.

“just gimme a second,” he says and you groan. “patience baby.”

“let me at least see some of you,” you beg, grabbing for his pants and trying to undo the button. he lets you work him out of his pants as he thinks, and when you start cupping his bulge through his boxers his hand covers yours on instinct and guides you to touch him the way he likes, squeezing your hand over his balls and his hips buck in response. 

“fuck,” he whispers, pulling you up as much as he can. “ok, you lay like this,” and he moves you to lean against the door with your hips up, and he pushes your legs to your chest. “hold these. now let me get my pants off.”

he finishes undressing rather awkwardly, and you have to laugh. a blush creeps up his neck as you giggle and pull him in for a kiss, mumbling about how cute he is. his demeanor breaks for a moment and he giggles back, sending you straight to the moon. hongjoong is yours. he feels the same way you do, and he’s about to show you how much you mean to him. he rolls a condom on quickly and climbs over you, pushing your legs further into your chest. he lines up with your entrance, eyes flicking up to yours to check that this is okay. you nod and blow him a kiss, and he’s smiling as he finally fills you up. his first full thrust leaves you with your mouth open in a silent moan but the next few thrusts pull the most pathetic whines from deep within your chest and hongjoong is eating it up. 

“does it feel good baby?” and you can only nod, not sure words will come to you as he’s hitting your g spot and filling you so perfectly. he was made for you, and you know that now in this moment. he reaches up and plays with your tits, cupping them and flicking your nipples to earn himself extra moans from you in your fucked out state. all you can think of is hongjoong, all your senses filled with him and the way he’s making you feel. you come unexpectedly, moaning out his name so beautifully he almost comes with you. he slows down as you clench around him, trying to last longer to fully enjoy this moment. he leans down to kiss your chest, and you whisper his name to get his attention. he looks up at you delicately, and you smile in return.

“i love you,” you say so quiet you don’t know if he heard you. a smile spreads across his features as he kisses his way up your chest to your lips, kissing you sweetly.

“i love you too,” he says into your lips, brushing over them as he speaks. “you’re perfect, and i love you.”

“show me,” you encourage him, and he takes it as a challenge. his speed picks up out of nowhere, and you moan into his mouth as he captures your lips in another kiss. he helps you hold your legs in place, your arms falling to his waist as you try to pull him in closer. he’s fucking you so fast your head starts bumping against the door, but he quickly pulls you closer so you’re laying down completely and he’s hovering over you. the angle has him hitting you perfectly, and you reach down to rub your clit to come with him. you can tell he’s close, but he smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own. you wrap your free leg around his waist, keeping him close as he picks up speed on your clit.

“i’m gonna come baby, want you to come with me,” he says breathlessly. 

“i don’t know if i can yet,” you whine, and he shakes his head.

“you can and you will. my baby can do anything,” he says, and you clench at his words. “see? you’re almost there baby, you can do it. count to three for me.”

“one,” you start off, and he slows his thrusts but keeps his pace on your clit. the change up has you seeing stars, and you almost forget you’re meant to be counting. “two.”

“good girl, come on, come with me-”

“three!” you shriek, a surprise burst of euphoria hitting you as you come. hongjoong came with you, groaning into your neck and sucking a hickey into what you assume will be a very visible spot tomorrow. he chuckles as he pulls back, appreciating the mess between your legs.

“when i said you could do anything i didn’t think it would make you squirt,” he says with a devilish grin. “made you feel that good, huh?”

“don’t be cocky,” you say, smacking his chest but shying away from his eyes nonetheless. “it was nice.”

“nice? baby i need us to do that every day. like a lot,”

“hongjoong!”

“y/n!”

“how am i supposed to clean this up,” you groan, changing the subject from hongjoong’s insatiable appetite. 

“don’t, i like what you’ve done to the place.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“kidding,” he laughs, pecking the top of your head. “i’ve got a gym towel in the back, i hope that’s enough.”

“i hope it’s clean!” 

“no promises!”

-

hongjoong cleans you (and the backseat) up to the best of his ability, and you spent some time pillow talking, laying on his chest with the sound of the rain in the background. eventually it dies down enough, and you’re able to convince hongjoong that no, you can’t just lie naked in his backseat for the rest of the night. so you’re finally on the way home, hongjoong driving extra careful but refusing to let go of your hand in his lap. 

he took you back the long way so you could spend more time together, forgetting the turn to your house and instead taking the main road back to the frat. he starts to turn around, but you tell him it’s fine.

“i can just sleep there,” you tell him. “but this time you’re not taking the futon.”

“but won’t the bed shake too much if we fuck again?” he asks with a pout. 

“you never quit do you,” you laugh, and he just shrugs.

“don’t hate the player hate the game.”

“i can hate both.”

“don’t,” he pouts, making the turn onto frat row. you both laugh at the first house, the obvious remnants of a party lingering in the yard. the rain destroyed whatever fun they were having, and now there’s just one sad dude passed out in the grass who’s definitely waking up with a cold and a hangover. hongjoong parks in his usual spot in front of his frat, and he rushes out of the car to open your door for you. you start to remind him of his presents in the trunk when he kisses you, halting your train of thought. his lips distract you so much you almost forget it’s actively raining on you right now, and you squeal into his mouth to get him to stop. 

“baby we’re getting soaked,” you cry and he just locks you in tighter, kissing you again. “mmf, joong, we’ll get sick,” you try again, and he doesn’t listen. at this point your clothes are drenched, so is it worth still fighting? but you take your final shot, promising him no more sex until his next birthday. you watch him move with a quickness you’ve never seen before, grabbing his gifts from the back and covering them with a jacket before he starts running toward the house, leaving you behind. you laugh as you run to catch up to him, watching as he hops from foot to foot trying to unlock the door with his gifts still in his arms. you gently take the keys and unlock the door for him, earning a quick “thanks babe!” and then he ducks inside. you follow him into the living room and who do you see but seonghwa and san sitting on the couch watching a movie. seonghwa watches in disgust as you both track wet footprints on his clean floor, and san smirks as he notices the dopey look on both of your faces.

“had a nice brithday bro?” san asks, and hongjoong nods.

“took you a long time to get home,” seonghwa points out and you clear your throat.

“we, uh, well, i got scared actually, and made him pull over,” you try to explain, but your cheeks heating up give you away.

“likely story,” seonghwa sighs. “go take a shower before you both get sick, i’m not taking care of two cry babies.”

“yeah don’t come upstairs for a while man,” hongjoong says as he starts pulling you toward the stairs. 

“dude, gross!” seonghwa shouts. “i’m moving out.”

“but then you’ll miss us too much,” you tease, shooting him a wink as hongjoong pulls you away. you both giggle as seonghwa grumbles about never sleeping here again, and hongjoong stops you at the top of the steps to kiss you for the millionth time today.

“i can’t get enough of that,” he says with a smile. “of you. can’t believe it took us this long.”

“me neither.” 

“you’re never getting rid of me now, you know that right?” 

“ditto.”

[marlynnofmany]

Hands-Free

“Are you going to want help installing all these?” I asked, opening another case of engine rings. I had no idea which part of the spaceship’s guts these actually went into; they were about three feet across, an inch thick, and made of some plasticky red stuff that was above my pay grade to define. All I knew was there was a lot of them, and we only had one engineer.

“No thanks,” grumbled Mimi, the octopus-looking guy with the voice like a gravel road. “This is a tentacles-only kind of operation.”

“Really? What’s the difference?” I was curious now. “Do you have to use specific tools, or reach into tight crevices?”

“Crevices,” he said, checking the label on the box. “These have to fit snug, and they go somewhere you people with fingers can never manage to reach.” He gave one ring a judicious whack against the floor, then tossed it back into the box.

I huffed in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very flexible for my species.”

“Sure you are,” he chuckled. “Not your fault you’re held back by all those bones. And you only have two arms! I don’t know how you get by.” He started looping tentacles around the rings in a different box, gathering an impressive number of them.

“Just fine, thank you,” I told him. “Two arms is plenty.”

“Yeah? Carrying just a couple things at once? Must be a simple life.”

I took the hint, digging into the box for more rings. “Who says I can only carry two at once? Look how many I can fit over my nice long arms.”

“Yes, yes, good job. Put ‘em over there.”

“And I can hook them over my shoulders,” I continued as I deposited my armload where Mimi had pointed. “Heck, these are big enough that I could just stand inside a stack of them, and hold them all from the bottom. Oh! And—”

“Here, these too.”

“And,” I repeated, “I can even carry one without my arms or shoulders.”

“Yes, I know you have tiny fingers on your feet,” Mimi said, unimpressed.

“No, not like that!” I set down the other stack. “I’ll pick it up with my hands, then only touch it with my torso! Think I can do it?”

He struck a pose lounging on the floor with one tentacle against his head, looking dramatically bored. “Wow me,” he grated.

I hadn’t used a hula hoop since I was a kid, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. With all the flair of a carnival magician, I grabbed a ring and lifted it over my head, braced it against one hip, then spun it and did my absolute best to keep it from falling.

I managed about three seconds, which I consider a major success.

Finally it hit the floor. “Ta-da!” I said, hands in the air.

Mimi got up and deadpanned, “Wow.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.”

“I’m sure that is immensely practical on a day-to-day basis,” Mimi said. “A fine consolation for being unable to reach around three-bend corners.”

“Oh sure,” I said, stepping out of the ring and picking it up again. “You can do that, but can you make this love you?”

I gave the ring an underhanded throw towards the hallway, with a twist to make it spin madly. It bounced twice, still spinning, then rolled back to my waiting arms.

A voice from the hallway shouted, “What was that?” Paint stuck her lizardy snout around the corner, and was utterly flabbergasted when I did it again. “How did you do that? Can you teach me?”

“See, she’s fun,” I said to Mimi. “Sure thing, Paint!”

“Well sure; she’s got fingers too.” Mimi waved a tentacle and went back to sorting the boxes while I showed Paint how to use vital engine components for childhood tricks.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (19)

It’s well past midnight when the party is over, and even later than that when I retreat upstairs, following after a drunk Venetia to make sure she doesn’t fall on the steps. My feet hurt from my borrowed heels, and the thin straps of the blue cocktail dress Venetia gave me are beginning to cut into the skin of my shoulders. 

“You’re sure you don’t need help getting out of your dress?” I ask as Venetia opens the door of her room. 

“You just want to see me naked.” She teases, leaning so that her nose almost brushes mine. 

“And what if I do?” I tease back. 

Venetia giggles. “Goodnight Evie.”

“Night V.” I return, heading into my own room. 

This time, when I see Farleigh sprawled over my bed, I’m not as surprised. He grins, tilting his head. “Do you need any help getting out of your dress?” He drawls. 

I shrug out of the straps, wincing as the elastic scrapes across my tender shoulders. “No, but if you wanted to rub the red marks out of my shoulders, I wouldn’t say no.”

He rolls his eyes, but sits up, gesturing for me to sit on the floor in front of him between his knees. The straps of the dress dangling from my shoulders, I sit down, tipping my head back against the edge of the bed so that I can look up at him while he kneads at my shoulders. 

“So.” I ask. 

“So.” He replies, eyes flicking between where his hands work against the indents left from the straps and my eyes. 

“What brings you to my bedroom?” I ask, grinning. “Besides the obvious things.”

“The obvious things being..?” He asks, the look in his eyes telling me that he knows exactly what I’m implying. He’ll never say it though, not unless I make him. 

“That you’re madly in love with me.” I say.

He laughs, just a little breathy thing, and rolls his eyes again, but notably doesn’t deny it, only - “That seems a bit dramatic.” He says. “But - if you must know, Oliver said some… things.”

“I see.” I say. “You’ve come to complain.”

He digs his fingers into a particularly sore part of my shoulders, and I sigh, melting further against the bed. “I’ll leave, if you want.” His tone is teasing, and his eyes twinkle.

“No, no.” I say. The thought of him taking his hands away from my shoulders seems like the worst thing in the world right now. “Keep going. Tell me about Oliver.”

He continues his massaging. “When you and Felix and V got up to get drinks, I asked him, fuck, chuck or marry - Richard III, Henry VII, or Henry XIII?”

“Fuck Richard III, marry Henry XIII, chuck Henry VII.”

Farleigh hums. “Interesting. I also said fuck Richard III, but I would have switched the other two. Not the point - he, first, outright says that I could just fuck him instead, which, what the hell does that mean? And then, second, tries to talk to me about how he understands what it's like to come from an unstable home and how humiliating it must be for me to have to ask James and Elspeth for everything, which is such bullshit coming from him. I swear, he gets off on having to ask Felix for help.”

“Mm.” I say. From what I know about Farleigh - from what Venetia has told me and what I can piece together from the way the rest of the family talks about him when he’s not around - it’s something of a sore spot, how his mother is running on fumes and how he has to beg for James and Elspeth’s kindness. From what I know about Oliver, he’s been riding on Felix’s coattails since they became friends, and happily. I’ve seen it myself, the adoring way that he looks at Felix, and how he devours even the smallest kindnesses with such vigor it’s almost disturbing. It’s a little offensive, that Oliver would pretend to understand how Farleigh feels when he so clearly doesn’t mind having to beg at all. 

“He knows that I don’t like him. I don’t hate him, obviously, but I don’t-” He pauses. “He just gets under my skin. I mean, he would lick the dirt out from between Felix’s toes if he asked him to, and he would smile about it. It’s pathetic, but it’s exactly the sort of shit that makes these people go wild, and I can’t-” He stops, and lets his hands slide from my shoulders. “Sorry.”

I turn in my spot on the floor so that I can look at him. “Sorry for what?”

He waves a hand through the air, dismissive. “It’s stupid, really. Felix’ll get tired of Oliver by the end of the summer and that’ll be that.”

“Sure.” I say, standing up from the floor. “But it seemed like, and you can correct me if I’m wrong here, you were going to say that you can’t grovel like Oliver does. And I don’t think that’s stupid to be mad about. You shouldn’t have to grovel, I mean, these people are your family.”

Farleigh sighs, turning his head to look out the window, out over the pitch blackness of the grounds. “Yeah.”

“Sucks.” I say, sitting on the bed beside him. 

He turns to look at me as I do, his eyes searching mine. I let him, and after a moment he groans, and flops back onto my mattress. I follow him back with a grin, propping myself up on my side so that I can look down at him. For a minute, we just look at each other, before he breaks the silence. 

“You’re a pretty good singer.” He says. 

“So are you.” I return easily, my free hand moving to brush through his curls, playing with the coarse strands, pulling at the little ringlets. 

His eyes flutter shut as my fingernails scratch against his scalp. I take the opportunity to let my eyes wander over his face. I could stare at him for hours and be content the whole time. If I were a painter, he would be my favorite subject. A modern reimagining of Apollo. 

“You’re just looking at me.” He says, eyes still closed. 

Even though he can’t see my face, I smile. “I’m always looking at you.” I say, dropping my voice in the same way that he did that night on the roof. 

He opens his eyes to meet mine. He almost looks helpless, looking up at me with wide eyes while I play with his hair. 

I lean down, slowly, stopping when the barest hint of our lips brush together. I can feel his sharp intake of breath against my cheek, and before he can say anything, I ask, “Will you unzip my dress?”

He swallows. “Sure.”

Backing away, I slip off the bed, and turn so that my back is toward him. I feel him stand up behind me, and I pull my hair over my shoulder, exposing the zipper. His slender fingers tug at the zip until the dress falls open. I don’t bother holding it up, letting it fall to the floor and leaving me in my underwear. 

I turn back around. There’s a needy look in his eye, and for a moment, I’m tempted, but there’s still a good month of the summer left. Better to stretch it out, I think. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He says, sliding past me to head towards the door. Once he reaches it, he lingers, one hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for letting me vent.”

“‘Course.” I say, following him over to the door. “I always like talking to you.”

Farleigh laughs, disbelieving. “Sure.”

“No, really.” I say, winding a hand into his shirt. Gently, I pull him down until we are face to face. I watch his eyes search mine, still just as helpless and needy as before. I let my gaze drop to his lips so he knows what’s coming. 

I tilt my head to close the gap between us, and he meets me halfway, our lips meeting in a warm embrace. Using the hand I have wound into his shirt, I pull him flush to me, and his hands settle on the small of my back. His hands are warm, and he kisses like he’s hungry for it, like he’s been waiting. And I know he has. 

Just when things are getting really hot and heavy, and his hands have started to wander, I pull back, gently sinking my teeth into his bottom lip. 

He groans, low and whiny in the back of his throat. “Fuck.”

I slide out of his hold, and step back into my room. “Goodnight Farleigh.”

He grins, and opens the door. “‘Night Eves.”

I watch him slip out into the hall, and wait until the door’s fully shut behind him to giggle, and flop back down on my bed. 

< previous part | next part >

[motownfiction]

popsicle

Emma tries not to read into it when Paul comes back from Orlando, and she’s the first person he wants to see back at home.

She scurries out the door to meet him at his apartment. She’d get out of there faster if her mother wasn’t walking up to the door with that disapproving look in her eye.

“Where are you going so fast?” Lucy asks.

“Out,” Emma says.

“You never go out.”

“I go out. I meet up with Daisy.”

“Daisy’s not in the city.”

“Why are you keeping tabs on my best friend?”

“I love her. We text.”

Emma rolls her eyes. She tries to get past Lucy, but even in her fifties, Lucy hasn’t lost a bit of her speed (mental or physical).

“You’re really not getting this, are you?” Lucy asks.

“I guess not.”

“Emma!”

“Mom!”

“I want to know where you’re going!”

“Why? I’m twenty-six. I don’t even live here. I’m just hanging out because my apartment is boring, and you have better food.”

“Because I’m an old woman! I don’t have fun. I don’t hear gossip that anyone wants to hear. Forgive me if I’m curious about the comings and goings of my youngest daughter’s life.”

“Way more goings than comings. I’ll tell you that.”

“Ah, then you’re doing it wrong.”

“Who says it’s me?”

Lucy stifles a laugh. There’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Emma is her daughter. She has the very same blessings (and the very same curses).

Emma sighs.

“If you really must know,” she says, “Paul’s back from his conference in Florida, and he invited me over.”

Lucy makes exactly the face that Emma was trying to avoid. A mixture of disappointment and confusion. Great.

“Don’t give me that,” Emma says.

“Why not?” Lucy asks. “You’re the one rushing to see a boy.”

“A man.”

“Emma. He has a Lego Bat Signal mounted on his bedroom wall. He’s a boy.”

“Well, I think it’s charming. And besides, what does it matter if I’m excited to see him? You got married to a boy when you were sixteen.”

“That was different. I was pregnant, and I was madly in love with your father. You’re not madly in love with this Paul guy.”

Emma looks down at her shoes.

“Emma,” Lucy says. “You’re not in love with him.”

“Sure.”

The conversation tapers off after that. There’s not much you can say when your mother insists you don’t feel the way you know you do. Emma mutters an awkward goodbye and makes her way to the apartment she knows pretty well.

When she knocks on the door, Paul doesn’t answer. It’s Mack (short for Malcolm, which is usually how he introduces himself). Paul’s roommate, going into his third year of a Ph.D. in English. He’s a postmodern scholar who has, on more than one occasion, joked that Ignatius J. Reilly is his best friend. No offense to Paul, of course, whom he’s known since middle school. No offense to him at all.

He stands in the doorway with a bright orange popsicle in his hand, grinning even with his eyes behind Buddy Holly frames. Urban Outfitters fell out of fashion a long time ago, but nobody ever told Mack. He’s taller than Paul, a bit over six feet, and his thick, dark hair makes him closer to classically handsome. At least, that’s how Paul describes him when he’s feeling insecure (which is way more often than he’d be willing to admit on a normal day).

“Hey, Riff,” Mack says.

“I hate when you call me that,” Emma says.

“Hey, don’t blame me. Blame your parents for middle naming you Jett.”

“So, why do you call me Riff when there are so many other things you could call me?”

“Like what?”

“You could call me Ice. Numbers. Tony. Hell, you could call me Joan. That’s how the Jett in my name is spelled, anyway. Two T’s.”

“Nah. I like Riff. There’s something real Russ Tamblyn-y about your dad.”

“Whom you met once.”

“Yeah, and he was Russ Tamblyn-y. Next.”

“Just let me in, Mack.”

Without taking his eyes off her, Mack yells to Paul at the back of the apartment.

“Paul!”

“Yeah?”

Emma’s heart jumps when she hears Paul’s voice in person. How long has it been? Two weeks? Three? She hates it when he’s not around, but now, he’s right here! Her face flushes.

“I think your friend Riff is a vampire.”

“What makes you say that?”

His voice gets closer, and then, he’s at the door. He’s at the door! Emma swallows hard to keep from giggling like a little girl. He’s wearing a navy t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Typical look for the summer. Very plain. She likes it when he’s plain. Makes him feel … feel.

“Well, she asked me to invite her in,” Mack says. “I can only assume that means she needs permission, and I can only assume she wants to suck our blood.”

Emma rolls her eyes. Thankfully, Paul is chuckling.

“Come on,” he says. “Even if she’s a vampire, I want to see her. Emma, come in.”

When she walks through the door, she’s not sure how she should greet Paul. She wants to kiss him, throw her arms around his neck, tell him how much she’s missed him lately. But she can’t do any of that. Not in front of Mack, and not ever, at all. She opts for an awkward wave from across the room, almost like they’ve never met.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s really good to see you.”

She hopes she’s not blushing too much.

A few seconds later, Mack walks by with a red popsicle, just for Emma. She flips her stare between the popsicle and Mack for a few seconds before he explains.

“Thought this might give you the visual of sucking blood,” he says. “Although, maybe you’d like to suck the blood out of something else.”

Emma takes a long, long drag on the red popsicle. Cherry. Perfect.

She slips it out of her mouth and narrows her gaze.

“This’ll do,” she says. “For now.”

Mack laughs and wanders out of the living room, muttering something under his breath about being outsmarted. Emma turns back to Paul, grinning from ear to ear, damn near glittering like he does whenever he laughs.

“So, that was weird,” she says.

But judging by the panicked look on Paul’s sweet face, maybe it wasn’t weird after all. Maybe it was exactly what he had been expecting.

Maybe.

[ironstrangle]

Kissing Sam Wilson #14 - Multiverse (SamBucky, 650 words)

@samsseptember prompt - magic | multiverse

“So, the wizard said that there are an infinite number of universes.” This all clearly bothered Sam by itself. Bucky had a feeling that the details of those alternate universes were ‌more disturbing to his boyfriend than the simple fact they existed. Sam was really mulling this over, his eyes narrowed. “I accepted that and just moved on. This, however, is too much.”

The “this” that was bothering him too much? Well, America Chavez, who had visited many universes, explained it to them with a shrug. 

“I’ve met you two in a couple of other universes,” she said, nodding wisely. “I think…three of them, at least. Each of those three, you were crazy in love with each other. In fact, you were probably the most sickeningly in love in the one where you were the bad guys.” 

“We were the bad guys?” Bucky had asked, curious. He hadn’t known at the time that she was freaking Sam out. “Like villains?” 

“Yeah, real dicks, no offense,” America said in that dry, teenage humor Bucky had never really grasped. “But they were so madly in love with each other that it was sickening. Even Captain America looked like he wanted to vomit after they declared their love for each other.” 

Sam couldn’t get over that there were other universes and in every one where America had known a version of them, they were a couple. It just seemed too unreal, too detached from reality, even though, of course, reality was very different now than it was a decade ago. 

After the teenager had left, Bucky narrowed his eyes, concerned. 

“You okay, Sam?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What’s bothering you?”

Sam didn’t speak immediately. He wrung his hands a little. Bucky didn’t understand what had him looking so stressed out. Finally, he managed to start, at least.

“She said that she’s been to dozens of universes,” Sam pointed out. “She’s known us in at least three of them and we’ve been in love in those universes.” 

“Yeah?”

“When she mentioned the villain one, it kind of made me feel weird,” Sam admitted, looking down at his still moving hands. “I mean, I have dreamt of being a villain with you before. We were running from…you guessed it, Steve. I remember giving some really wacky speech about how much I loved you.”

“Well, she said that dreams were windows into other universes,” Bucky said, shrugging. “I guess that means it really is real.” 

“Doesn’t it freak you out? In every single universe she’s known us, we’ve been a couple. Even one where we were bad guys. We lived in such a different world and yet we were still in love. Doesn’t that mean that we have no choice? That some greater power, it always meant us to get here and had no … no say in the matter.” 

Oh. This was an existential question. Big brain stuff.

“I don’t know about that,” Bucky said, rolling it around in his head in the same way Sam rolled his fingers. “I mean, you could take it as some sign that we have no choice, I guess. You could also take it as a sort of soulmate thing. We always find each other because that was what we were meant to do, you know?” 

“You’re right…”

“Think of it instead as us always choosing each other,” Bucky said, hoping that was comforting. “I would choose you, Sam Wilson, in any universe.”

“Even one where I’m a bad guy?”

“Especially that one,” Bucky teased. “Gosh, we should have asked her to describe the costume. I want that picture in my head.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a little and Bucky felt that the existential crisis was semi-averted. “It was…er purple spandex…”

“Seriously?”

Sam kissed him, probably in an attempt to distract him from that image. Yes, he’d love this man no matter the universe. 

[bookwormscififan]

Hybrids and Humans, Chapter 8

Reminiscence and Reunion

Read on AO3!

Previous Chapter

A/N: Phantom is very lost in his memories.

--

“Hey,” Mare’s quiet voice pulled Phantom out of his memories, warm hand grasping his wrist as he looked into his eyes. “Library’s going to close soon. Let’s get something for dinner and head home, yeah?”

Glancing around their area, Phantom saw that it was late, sunset casting a faint orange glow around the books and tables. With a heavy sigh, he nodded, letting Mare help him to stand and following him out of the library.

--

“You’re missing the sunset,” Jackie chuckled as Phantom continued to kiss his neck, weakly pushing the human away. “I thought that was why you wanted to come out here.”

“I can see a sunset any day,” he whispered, moving to nose at the hairs at the base of Jackie’s ears, smirking at the full-body shiver that earned him. “What I can’t see is how the setting sun makes your skin glow. The way the sunset looks ethereal reflected in your eyes.”

“Shut up,” Jackie’s blush was bright, and he turned his face away from Phantom as he picked at his tail. “Watch the sunset. I want to see it, I want to watch the sky slowly go dark as the night sets in.”

“God, I’ve fallen in love with a poet,” Phantom joked, holding Jackie close as the hybrid spluttered.

--

“Phan.” Mare tapped Phantom’s shoulder as they walked down the street, concerned that his brother was still in his head about something. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll pay.” He offered Phantom a smile, brows furrowing when the twin didn’t return it.

“I’m not really that hungry,” Phantom mumbled, hands in his pockets as he kicked a pebble down the road. “You get whatever, and I’ll eat it once we’re home.” He kept his head down when Mare stopped, hoping the musician wouldn’t ask the question he was dreading.

“What’s going on?” There it was. “You basically ghosted me at the library today, and now you’re turning down dinner? I know you, Phan, and I can tell you’re stuck in your head thinking about something. Get out and tell me what it is. Let me help you.”

“You can’t help. Not unless you have a time machine or something to erase my memories.” Ignoring Mare’s confused sound, Phantom continued to walk down the street, staring at his shoes as he moved, noting the dust on the toes covering the scuff marks.

Mare hesitated a moment, trying to parse out Phantom’s words, then hurried to catch up with him, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder before walking beside him back to their house.

--

“I can’t believe you convinced me to come out into town,” Jackie muttered, hugging Phantom’s arm close as he tugged on the beanie on his head. “You could have gotten the groceries yourself.”

“Nope,” Phantom wore a smile as he walked down the street, pressing a kiss to the side of Jackie’s head, just below where his ears stopped. “Besides, I needed your strength to help me carry the bags back.”

Jackie squeaked at the kiss, face turning a bright red despite knowing his raccoon parts were hidden. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, hiding his face in Phantom’s shoulder. “I really should have stayed at home.”

“Are you denying me the opportunity to show off the man I’m madly in love with?” Phantom feigned offense, façade breaking to laughter. “Come on, the sooner we get the groceries the sooner we can get back home and cuddle.”

--

Phantom sniffled as Mare unlocked their front door, shuffling his feet on the doorstep before following his brother inside, ready to just head upstairs and lose himself in his memories in the privacy of his own room. So distracted was he, that he bumped into Mare standing still just inside the doorway, causing him to look up to find what Mare had seen.

Standing inside the living room were two figures, obviously come in from the back door that Mare had kept unlocked to allow Mad inside. One figure was clearly Mad, orange tail and fingerless gloves the telltale signs, but the other…

Torn clothes a clear sign of escaping from somewhere, the simple canvas shoes covering his feet looked worn beyond use, and his greasy, unkept hair almost obscured the pair of ears atop his head. The tail was the undeniable tell: brown and black striped, ending in a well-kept point that Phantom knew like the back of his hand. After years of searching and hoping and yearning, standing in his own house once again was…

“Jackie…” Phantom’s words got stuck in his throat, hands shaking as he raised them to his chest. He didn’t see the shocked and confused faces turned toward him; his focus was only on Jackie. “You… you’re not dead…”

“He almost was dead,” Mad’s voice was muffled, sounding like he was underwater as Phantom continued to stare at Jackie, feeling his head going light before suddenly he was falling backward, and then everything went black.

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

@iamvegorott @brokentimewatch @dungeon-dragons-dragons @rattyboyisemo

[noteguk]

white lies | jjk | m

— summary; in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

— contents and warnings; smut, fluff, very minor angst, poor attempts at humor, athlete!jungkook x reader, childhood best friends, fake dating, idiots to lovers, far too many movie references, a tiny bit of jealousy, jk is a football/soccer player, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the catastrophic event that is a frat party, jk is kind of a himbo, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of touching, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, jk has a big dick, praise, body worship if you squint, unprotected sex (don’t.), pulling out, very mild possessiveness, mid-sex confessions, the L word…, Jungkook wants to fuck you in his team jacket because his tastes are very singular and you wouldn’t understand it 

— words; 13,3k

— author’s notes; I know what you’re thinking… and yes, every bad movie mentioned is real. Also, this is a self-aware cliche and 100% self indulgent. Have fun!

When people first found out that you and Jungkook were friends, you received a very predictable, repetitive sequence of reactions.

First came disbelief. It was the most comprehensible one, at least from your perspective, taking into consideration that you and Jungkook were completely different people. He was loud (sometimes too loud) and outgoing, probably knew at least ninety percent of the campus population by name and city of origin. Jungkook was warm, friendly, the type of guy that you’d confess all your worries to if given enough time. You, on the other hand, was more on the “colder” side — you weren’t as inviting with strangers, and didn't mind going through moments of awkward silence. Jungkook was a talker and you were a listener; he was a daydreamer and you were a brute realist: maybe that was why your friendship worked so well. But most people couldn’t really get it. 

Second came the questions — the doubts, the sideway glances, even a few bitter comments if you were unlucky enough. Jungkook had kind of a reputation when it came to sleeping around, so most people jumped to the conclusion that either you were his favorite plaything (which might have been the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard) or that you were simply the rare one he had friendzoned because he didn’t want to fuck you (a big runner-up to that prize). Eventually, though, you settled their anguishes simply by saying that you knew each other ever since you were kids. 

Which took you to the final phase: relief and acceptance. The ones who saw you as a threat instantly relaxed, and the ones who couldn’t understand why he would “waste his time” with “someone like you” quickly understood that it was a deep, innocent connection that he was just “too sweet to let go.” Obviously, that didn’t make you feel any better. 

Truth was, it was kind of hard being friends with Jungkook. Mostly because the boy casted a light so strong that it was almost impossible not to stay in his shadow, but also because you always felt like you had to justify your existence every time he chose you instead of anyone else. You were the person he ran to hug once his team won; you were the one he ditched other people for, just to hang out with you. It made you insecure. And, yeah, there was also the fact that you had been madly in love with him for some time now, but that was unimportant. 

Well, until he asked you to be his (fake) girlfriend, that was. 

Jungkook, bless his heart, was never one of the brightest when it came to real-life situations. He could ace a test with no issue, but, when it came to reading the room, he was a lost cause — something a bit paradoxical when you realized how social he was, but, well, people probably thought his cluelessness was adorable. And that might also be the reason why he never caught onto your pathetic crush, but that was a different topic. 

“Why the fuck would I do something like that?” You munched on your chips, eyes flickering over the TV screen. The two of you had made the terrible decision to hatewatch all the bad shark-themed movies you could find, and now you were suffering the brain-smoothing consequences. “Sounds like the dumbest plan in the world. And I don’t understand what you’d get out of that.” 

He whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Jungkook had been trying to convince you for half a movie now, and he was running out of arguments. “I told you already,” he stressed, eyes locked to the white ceiling. With the living room completely immersed in shadows, the shades of blue and yellow from the television reflected off his face like a prism. “The boys have been teasing me because I could never hold a date.” 

“And? That’s your problem.” You looked at him, meeting his desperate stare. “And, honestly, why did you even lie about it? It’s true, you know it.” 

“You’re cruel.” Jungkook tugged the bag of chips off your hands, ignoring your complaints. “I have my reasons.” 

You laughed. “Yeah, what is it again? Waiting for the right person?” You teased, watching as his frown only deepened, his cheeks puffed out as he angrily chewed. “Come on, Cinderella, snap out of that fairy tale. Have you stopped to think how many nice girls you let go because of that stupid mindset?”

“It’s not stupid,” he murmured, clearly irritated. 

With a sigh, you shrugged. “Fine. It’s not.” You yanked the bag of chips away from him, slightly sad that it was almost finished. Unfortunately, your marathon had made you eat a lot more junk food than your body could probably handle, but that was a problem for the future you. Present you really wanted more chips. “I’m just bitter.” 

“We can agree on that.” He smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes that prepared you for the worst. “What was it that those guys called you in high school?”

You pointed at him. “Don’t,” you warned. 

But his smirk only grew, morphing into a full-blown (dazzling) smile. “Ice queen?” Jungkook tried. 

You rolled your eyes, sinking into the couch. “It’s a dumb nickname, shut up,” you groaned, trying to focus on the shitstorm that unreveled on the television. There was a priest trying to exorcise the ghost of a demon shark, and that was a thousand times more interesting than recalling the nightmare that was high school. “It got even worse when Frozen came out.” 

“Still gets to you, though.” Jungkook poked you on the shoulder, allowing himself one last laugh at your distress before striking once again. “So… wanna help me?” 

Yeah, like that would have magically changed, you thought. “I already said no.”

Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his palms. He was in anguish, but you couldn’t feel that sorry when he had caused that himself. “But I already told them we were dating,” he whined, defeated. 

“Again, sounds like a you problem,” you said, throwing the empty bag of chips on the coffee table. “Just say that you panicked and made some shit up. Own up to it, you’re already a grown up.” 

Jungkook shook his head. “I can’t, they’ll never believe me again.” 

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Dragging this out won’t make it any better. You should tell them the truth,” you said, pausing for an instant. “Actually, I can’t see this ending well in, like, any possible scenario. Even Doctor Strange had better odds in Infinity War.” 

The fact that you liked Jungkook was the key point that he didn’t have access to, but that was very clear inside your head. Even in the best possible outcome, in which no one doubted a single thing and everything magically went back to normal, you’d still have to live with that weight inside your chest. Sounds pretty fucking painful to pretend to be someone’s girlfriend when you were almost considering selling your soul to turn that into a real situation. And then to be done with it like it wasn’t nothing more than a business transaction, or a platonic favor for a good friend... that would just suck, to put it lightly. 

Sadly, Jungkook wouldn’t give up so easily. “What if we, like, only do it tomorrow night?” He pressed on, turning to take a better look at you. He always looked so breathtaking, his gorgeous big eyes just staring at you like a cute dog pleading for a piece of meat. You could sense yourself starting to fold, and that was always a bad sign. “Just for a few of my friends to see us together, show that it’s the truth, and then I can just say that we didn’t work out and decided to stay friends.” 

“But it’s not the truth,” you stressed, turning your head back to the television. You were starting to get pissed at the fact that you’d have to watch that movie again to try and make sense of what was happening. But you were also sad because you were both considering his request and suffering in advance because of its unavoidable consequences. “I don’t wanna be just another name in your list of conquests, Jungkook.”

Correction: you didn’t want to pretend to be one. You were fine with trying something out (for real) with Jungkook, even if you didn’t get a fairy tale ending. You just didn’t want to play with your own emotions — and probably induce some emotional trauma — because your best friend couldn’t own up to the fact that he lied about something (again). 

And, yet, it was getting to you. Just like a vipers’ venom, it had started to spread inside your body, corroding the walls you had built up for yourself. Your therapist would rip you to shreds if she knew you were thinking like that, but maybe ignoring the only chance you’d have with Jungkook — real or not — would be the foolish decision there. 

Besides, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? You could push your pride aside and help a friend during a time of need… and who knows, maybe get a couple kisses along the way? And just for one night? You could do that… 

Back in the present, Jungkook was just now digesting your previous claim. “What? You’d never be just that,” he guaranteed, an expression of bewilderment plastered all over his obnoxiously handsome face. Every day was a new test from God, and you were failing miserably. “You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 

Ouch. That was a low hit. And worse? You knew that he didn’t say that with any malicious intent to manipulate you or anything — he genuinely meant it. Jungkook was such a sweetheart when it came to you, he’d stay up to help you with your projects; volunteer to take you out on an adventure when you were feeling down, even if he had to face the consequences of skipping practice later. He had done so much for you, and you couldn’t even push your feelings aside one time to help him out. 

Your high school insecurities were starting to erupt, and you were thinking that maybe those dumb nicknames were right. Maybe you were kind of a cold-hearted bitch. Especially when your best friend/love of your life was pouting and begging you to help him and all you could do was to mock him. 

Beside you, Jungkook deflated like the saddest balloon in the world, a long sigh leaving his lips. “You know what? You’re right, this is stupid,” he admitted, running one hand through his hair. You always wanted to do the same, it was so soft and puffy that you could get lost in it. Also, there was something about the tattoos on his arms, the veins of his hand, that just made you lose your mind. “I should just own up to it.” 

Took you a couple seconds for your rational brain to catch up to your horny one, but it eventually did. “It’s okay, I’ll do it,” you told him. “Just one night.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes widened like a kid’s during Christmas morning, a beautiful smile overtaking his features. He jumped in your direction and, before you could even react, his strong arms were wrapping around you, pulling you into a warm hug. You were so fucked. “You’re the best! I owe you big time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll remember that.” You placed your hand on his forehead and pushed him away, ignoring both his whiny complaints and the quickening of your heartbeat. “Now back to our shark exorcism.” 

~ 

Jungkook’s teammates didn’t get why the two of you were still friends. 

As Jimin, the world’s most competitive striker once said, some things are so obvious that you just can’t ignore them unless you have a secret agenda. When it came to that specific subject, the obvious thing would be that Jungkook had an earth-shattering crush on you, and his secret agenda was the fact that he was too blind to see that it was mutual, so he decided to repress it until it asphyxiated him. 

His teammates tried to warn him over and over again that you, in fact, were all heart eyes and chuckles when he came around, Namjoon even got close to creating an entire PowerPoint presentation about it, but all of it fell on deaf ears. Jungkook, in his blissful ignorance, just wouldn’t hear it. From where he was standing, there was just no conceivable way that his laughable childhood crush had any chance of being mutual. 

Jungkook didn’t know much about psychology, though, because, if he did, he might have faced those emotions head-first instead of avoiding them until they started presenting themselves in different, slightly destructive ways. When you repress something, it doesn’t really go away, it just settles somewhere else, like squeezing a handful of slime. No matter how much he tried to get a hold of it, it still slipped between his fingers — made him cancel dates last minute to spend the night with you, convinced him to do the dumbest things just to make you happy. 

And, now, in a weird projection of a personal fantasy, he was pretending to be your boyfriend. 

In his defense, it wasn’t a machiavellian plan he had meticulously constructed: it just kind of happened. Jungkook wasn’t exactly a poster child when it came to being teased — after all, he was used to be being the best at practically everything — and, when his teammates all ganged up on him during their break, claiming that he just couldn’t get a girlfriend even if he tried, both his annoyance and the practice-induced exhaustion made him say that he was already dating someone. 

“Yeah, right,” Hoseok had mocked, pressing a towel against his sweaty forehead. The changing room thankfully had a great ventilation system, combined with large windows, otherwise they would’ve died from the heat and the smell already. “Just say that you can’t take a joke and move on, Jeon. No need to lie about it.” 

Taehyung barged in before Jungkook could get a word out. “Besides, we know there’s only one person that can fit inside your heart,” he said, watching as Jungkook’s eye twitched. “How’s ___ doing, by the way?” 

“She’s fine,” he answered, monotone. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna ask her out or what?” Jimin teased, his voice coming from beyond a row of lockers. “Or are we free to do that?” 

In typical animal planet fashion, the locker room exploded in a roar of laughs and fragmented provocations, every guy trying to speak louder than the other. Jungkook felt himself shrink, his frown deepening as his heartbeat quickened. There was something burning at his insides, a mixture of shame and jealousy, and that was exactly what pushed those idiotic words out of his mouth. 

“Actually,” he started speaking when the thunderous laughter diminished, turning around to place his bag back in his locker. “I’m dating ___.” 

It was almost amazing how fast the room morphed into a crypt — the thick silence hitting Jungkook right in the face, weighing down and turning into guilt and worry inside his stomach. He was unable to look back and face his friends, instead pretending to be extremely interested in his bag’s zipper. 

Why did he always do that? Why couldn’t he tell the truth for once in his life? 

“That seems even harder to believe,” Taehyung was the first one to speak, the one brave soul that verbalized what they all were thinking. Simply as that, life returned to the locker room, and so did the sounds of his teammates laughing at him. “Just yesterday you were acting all nervous around her.” 

Jungkook slammed his locker door shut, turning around with a determined expression. “Well, yeah, because I was planning to ask her to be my girlfriend,” he had never constructed a lie so fast before, but, even then, Taehyung didn’t look like he was buying it. “I’m serious.” 

Which was probably the least trust-worthy thing he could say. 

“Prove it, then.” Hoseok smiled, crossing his arms. “Call her right now.”

“I’ll do you better,” Jungkook didn’t hesitate — a terrible sign, he realized one heartbeat too late; it was never good when his mouth decided to take the lead, allowing for the words to flow out of him before they could be filtered by his logical brain. But Jungkook was competitive, both in the field and in his personal life, and he couldn’t stand the humiliation that came from both losing an argument and being caught in a lie. As ironic as that was. “I’ll take her to Saturday’s party and you can all see it with your own eyes.” 

Jungkook was just buying himself some time, hoping that his charms would be enough to sweep you into his miraculous scheme before his teammates could realize something was off. Hoseok, of course, did not know that, but his expression showed that he wasn’t all too convinced either. “Sounds great,” he lowered his voice, looking at his friend up and down. “See you there, Jeon.” 

Jungkook left the locker room with a crown of victory hovering over his head and a bright, prideful smile — one which shrunk and shrunk as his day progressed and he realized that there was no way in hell that you’d accept to be swept into his personal melodrama. 

He had enough time between that conversation and the night at your place to go through all the stages of grief. In denial he found himself running from those cyclical thoughts, ignoring that it had happened in the first place — maybe it was all a big misunderstanding and his friends would let that situation go; maybe he didn’t have to sacrifice his friendship with you just to avoid being wrong about something. In anger, came anxiety, frustration at himself for being so dumb and impulsive, allowing for his ego to step in the way and shield him from reason. That one he suffocated with extra gym time and a consequential terrible cramp in his shoulder. 

Soon enough came bargain and Jungkook was thinking that, if he were to be very lucky, he could convince his friends that you happened to be way too sick to go to the party that night, and that, weirdly enough, you two broke up the very next day and you didn’t want to talk about it ever. Maybe he could go through all that in secret, use all his brain power to construct an elaborate, moviesque plan to get him out of the ditch he had dug himself and no one would ever know of his dirty lies. 

It was all for nothing, however — the depression stage materialized soon after, in the middle of his advanced calculus class, and Jungkook was practically imploding over the fact that he had managed to ruin everything between you two, and also between him and the rest of his team. That was it: not only would he lose his best friend (and perhaps the love of his life) but he would also lose trust and respect in the field. 

Acceptance only reached him when Jungkook was on his way to your place, and he came to terms with the idea that he was already in deep shit, so he should at least try and change that. He would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a bit — even if he was positive you’d laugh until you were out of breath and never let him forget about it — under the possibility that perhaps, you’d say yes. 

Which, surprisingly, you did. 

Now, Jungkook wasn’t particularly emotional when it came to most things — even in the field, he managed to control that side of him well — but there was something intense bubbling up in his stomach as he made his way back to his dorm after the movie was over; a laugh that hung somewhere between maniacal and desperate that he couldn’t hold back. That could be bad, really bad. Especially considering that he didn’t have the slightest clue how he would hold himself back from just vomiting out a fervent love confession the second that you kissed him. 

Because that was supposed to happen, right? In a relationship, pretend one or not, people should kiss. He should act like your boyfriend, perhaps a fantasy that he had way too often, and still spare enough brain matter to remind himself that it was all fake. And that it was also all his fault. 

As established, Jungkook was the president of the company of putting himself in extremely uncomfortable situations. And, when the night of the party arrived, he decided to screw himself even further by lending you his team jacket. 

It was because it was cold, he tried to brainwash himself. It was because you were cold, because the night was cold, and not because he liked the view of you in it in the slightest. Or maybe because it was a bomb pumping his thorax full of pride and possessiveness; because it was making him believe, even for a second, that you two were part of a chimerical alternative universe in which you were together. Not at all. It was strictly business — the neighborly job of a worried best friend, at most. 

“Is this really necessary?” you spoke his doubts out loud, tugging at the sides of his large jacket. 

Jungkook managed to keep his cool, eyes darting around the peaceful streets. You two were close to the party, he could already listen to the repetitive beat echoing through the cool breeze, and every step he took amplified his anticipation by tenfold. “It speaks for itself,” he told you, his hand firm on your waist. You were wearing a sleeveless top and a skirt in the same color, and there was a stripe of exposed skin in between the two that Jungkook’s hand brushed against sometimes. He felt like he was a virgin again, hyper-aware of your body and completely unsure what to do with himself. “Besides, you look good wearing it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I look stupid.”

Jungkook glimpsed at you, a sleazy smile growing on his lips. “You look like my girlfriend.”

You snorted. “Oh, so I look super stupid,” you corrected, looking away. 

“Funny,” Jungkook answered, monotone. His smile melted away — there was no way in hell it was mutual, he thought, his friends were just fucking him over, trying to see him embarrass himself. “I hope you act better than you tell jokes.” 

“It’s probably as good as the effects in Birdemic,” you said. 

Jungkook shook his head — he had conflicting emotions when it came to that movie, considering that it was so awful that he laughed to the point of choking on his popcorn. You, being the empathic friend you were, brought up his near-death experience as often as you could. “At least that movie was funny, your poor acting will just be sad,” he threw back. 

“Thanks.” You giggled, making his heart leap inside his chest. Jungkook wanted to beat his head against the asphalt until that shy spirit of his middle school past left his body completely. “I’ll let you do the talking.” 

Jungkook nodded, allowing his gaze to navigate around the neighborhood — there were a handful of strangers in the streets with the two of you, but it was a shortcut to the frat house that not many people knew of. It brought along a peculiar sentiment of intimacy; the way your features were covered by the pale yellow of the light poles making him want to dive in and kiss you until he couldn’t even breathe. The realization that he could actually do that, under the excuse of a fake relationship, was one that almost knocked him out. 

“Just to be sure, by the way,” Jungkook started. “You’re okay with me, like, touching you like you were my girlfriend, right?”

You looked at him for a moment, measuring his expression. “Yeah, that’s part of it,” you told him. “I’m guessing you are okay with it as well?” 

“Fine by me.” Jungkook cleared his throat. The frat was literally just around the corner, buzzing into the night with a generic beat and the joyful yelps of hundreds of strangers. He usually enjoyed that cacophony of sounds, but, that time, it was like the screams from hell. “Just a couple hours, okay? Then you’re free.” 

“It’s fine,” you told him. “How bad can it be?” 

~ 

Short answer: bad. Long answer: bad, but with a twist. 

Jungkook looked around the party like he was a kid lost in the supermarket, his eyebrows furrowed as he searched for his teammates (which that whole spectacle was supposed to be for). You felt like a piece of a puzzle thrown in the wrong box, leaning against his toned body as he tried to think of what to do. 

“So…” You cleared your throat, trying to make yourself heard through the loud beating of the song. Jungkook followed your voice, leaning in closer. Maybe your heart skipped at that, but no one had to know. “What’s the plan, captain?”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. You two were leaning against one of the walls of the large living room, in a somewhat calm corner of the party. “I don’t know, I’m not feeling like being interrogated right now,” he said. “I think it’s better if we wait for the guys to get a bit more drunk so they don't think too much about it.” He sighed, looking around for a bit longer. “We could stay here for a while, just sit down and talk. What do you think?”

“Sounds good.” You breathed out. “I’m taking any chance to rest my feet at this point.” 

The ancient gods of the frat parties seemed to be on your side, because it didn’t take much longer than a couple minutes to find a sofa that 1) was unoccupied and 2) didn’t look like it had any suspicious fluids on it. You settled by Jungkook’s side, a breath of relief escaping your chest as you felt the pressure on your calves subside considerably — all you wanted was to go back in time and kill whoever thought high heels were a good idea. 

However, you relaxed way too early. 

You had to hold back a surprised gasp when Jungkook abruptly tugged your legs onto his lap, one hand finding the curvature of your waist instantly. 

“This feels... intimate,” your voice sounded stiff when you spoke up, pushing your skirt down. 

“Yeah, that’s the point.” His eyes roamed around the room for exactly two seconds before they widened just slightly, then snapped back at you. “Okay, two things.” Jungkook placed one arm on the couch behind you, murmuring as he leaned in. He had that scheming expression on his face that had been plaguing you ever since middle school, when he first discovered pranks, and you didn’t think that was a good sign. “First: Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon are here, and they’re looking— shh, don’t look! Dumbass.” 

“Sorry. You’re the dumbass,” you said. It was hard not to look when you felt as if you were under a microscope, watched closely by his meat-headed friends. Still, you tried to keep your composure. “And the second?” 

He exhaled, the hand that was on your waist traveling to touch your cheek. You wondered if he could feel how hot your skin had become. “It’s kind of the time that you have to commit to being my fake girlfriend,” Jungkook warned, stare oscillating towards your mouth. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” 

Suddenly, you felt like you were right back in high school, about to have your first kiss and not having a single clue about how to do it. “O-Okay,” you whispered. 

Jungkook didn’t waste any time. Before you could think about something to try and break the ice, his mouth was on yours, silencing you and turning your thoughts into white noise. He kissed you softly, much slower than you had expected, giving you time to adapt to the tender movement of his lips caressing yours. 

You sighed, gradually remembering how to move your limbs. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as he leaned his head to the side, opening his mouth just slightly and deepening the kiss. No matter how many times you had fantasized about that moment, it could never compare to the way his tongue slipped inside your mouth, nor the small grunt he let out against your lips. Kissing Jungkook felt like heaven and you had completely forgotten about your fake dating situation until he decided to pull back just a bit. 

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” he mumbled, nose bumping against yours. 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I’m not surprised.” His hand slithered down to your hips, his warm palm sending shockwaves through your body. You felt like you were in danger from the way he was speaking, his body moving closer to yours. “I knew you would be.” 

Jungkook didn’t even give you time to process his words before he was kissing you again — sloppier, hungrier this time. Again and again, he chose to throw gasoline into the flame of your desire, and what could you do but to melt under his touches, to kiss him just as eagerly. 

Faithlessly, you were trying to convince yourself that it was all an act, that he was just playing it up because he knew his friends were watching. But his hand just felt so firm on your hips, pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft sea of his hair. It seemed so real when he moaned softly against your mouth, biting on your lower lip before tracing kisses down your jaw, towards your neck. 

Or maybe you were just so deep inside your own illusions that you didn’t want to believe that it was all for show. 

Your eyes parted just slightly, trying to find his friends amongst the crowd of strangers. It was extremely hard to think when Jungkook was sucking and licking his way down your neck, his hand squeezing your thighs. Apparently they were nowhere in sight, though, for those obviously bright orange jackets had left your field of vision. 

“Jungkook,” you called, surprised at how firm your voice came out. The boy only hummed against your flesh, not paying much attention to what you were saying. “I think they already left.” 

Still, it didn’t seem like he was willing to stop. Jungkook mumbled against your neck, his voice so low that you almost didn’t catch his words past the loud music. “Yeah, but someone else can be watching.” 

You didn’t know who, though, and you didn’t really care. You were more worried about the small bites he was placing on your skin, the soft sucking of his mouth that left you pressing your legs together, begging for relief. “Um, okay, but there’s a minor emergency,” you told him. 

That managed to get his attention, for the boy pulled back so he could look at you. “What is it?” He asked, worried. 

You shifted around on the couch, your legs still thrown over his lap. You noticed something hard poking against your skin, which gave you enough momentum to admit out loud that, “I’m, like, soaking wet right now,” you said. “My neck is super sensitive and I’m really trying to hold back here.” 

Jungkook froze, blinking a few times and your words settled in his mind. He would never understand how you could be so shy in one second, and then just throw that bomb on his lap like it wouldn’t make his dick rock hard in record time. “Fuck, how can you just say that so naturally?” He cursed. 

“Sorry.” You bit your lip. Jungkook had to fight the urge to kiss you again. “I’m just being honest.” 

How ironic was it that, while Jungkook lied his way through life, you had no problem throwing those random truths right at his face? The opposites do attract, after all. 

He cleared his throat, unsure if he should pull away or not. “Want me to stop?” 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I think this is getting weird.” 

Maybe it would be the perfect time for the world to just open up and eat him whole, considering that Jungkook had never felt so embarrassed in his life. “Weird how?” He asked. 

“Weird like… weird.” Self-expression under moments of extreme sexual pressure really wasn’t your forte. You broke eye contact, flustered, instead choosing to look at the cluttered coffee table by your side. Jungkook’s hand was still on your body and you liked his touch far too much for your own well-being. “Maybe it would be better if we just went home.” 

“Right now?” Jungkook whined. Sometimes he still acted like the kid you knew, all puffy cheeks and demands for attention; for things to happen the way he wanted. You, being the simp that you were, were his number one enabler. “One more hour, please? We’ve been here for so little time, I just wanna cover all my bases.” 

His pouty lips and needy voice was a Molotov cocktail thrown directly in your heart. “Fine.” You puffed out. 

“Thank you!” Jungkook beamed, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. The action was so automatic, so unthought, that neither of you reacted to it for a second. “Um… why do you say we try the backyard? Jimin said he’d try some new barbecue technique or whatever, so maybe they’re outside.” 

“And after that we leave?” You asked. He nodded. “And you do the talking?” 

“I’ll try my best,” Jungkook agreed.

You sighed. “Okay. I need some fresh air anyways.” 

~ 

Back in middle school, you had a very eccentric world history teacher. You clearly remember one afternoon that she simply walked in and asked the class what was the worst type of torturing they could ever imagine a human could endure — which ended up being a great opening line to a very interesting class about the medieval times and the ways of the inquisition, but also something that plagued you for a long time. That night, when you returned home, you dove into the rabbit hole about the topic and (much to the horror of your parents) discovered a thing or two about torture methods. 

The key point, it seemed, wasn’t even about the actual physical act, but about the horrendous expectation that came from it. Psychological torture could break a person apart before someone even laid a finger on them. You knew that already, but you had never truly witnessed it until that night. 

“Well, guess I have to take back what I said,” Hoseok started, his speech slightly slurred by the alcohol. Jungkook was right, they were a lot less intense after a few drinks, and apparently weren’t questioning a lot either. “I didn’t think you two would ever end up together after so many years of bullshit, but here we are.”

“Cheers to that, brother,” Jimin barged in, raising his cup. 

Jungkook chuckled behind you. “You guys have no fucking faith in me.” 

As a typical former theater kid, you were naturally dramatic. But you weren’t kidding when you said that pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend might be a newfound method of psychological torture — especially when he made you sit on his lap, his head resting on your shoulder and strong arms wrapped tightly around you. It was because there were no more chairs left in the backyard, and he wanted to play the gentleman/possessive boyfriend and didn’t allow you to stand up. But justificatives were fruitless when you could feel him getting harder by the minute. 

“It’s not about faith, you just fucked me up,” Taehyung said. He was the least inebriated one out of the group, but that didn’t mean much. “I owe Yoongi like fifty bucks now, thanks, man.” 

Jungkook was probably going to say something equally ludicrous in return, but your  curiosity made you act quicker. “Why?” You asked. 

Taehyung clicked his tongue, leaning back against his chair — it was the type that folded in half, and you were thinking he would flip over any second now if he continued with those harsh movements. “Ah. No biggie. He was one of the few people who believed your boyfriend here when he said you two were together.” 

You giggled, trying to keep yourself composed. Unlike Jungkook, you were not very skilled when it came to making up lies at the spot, so you ended up deflecting a little. “Yeah, it was a bit… sudden. So I understand the surprise.” 

Hoseok yawned, throwing his head back. “Nah, not really a surprise.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, shifting a little behind you. You felt him tense up, which probably wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah, what do you mean?” He echoed. 

“I mean… that it wasn’t a surprise,” Hoseok repeated, raising his eyebrows in a quiet mockery, as if you had just questioned the color of the sky. “Yoongi was sure Jungkook had finally gotten the balls to confess to you. I, myself, didn’t think it was that likely.” 

Wait, what? Suddenly you felt like you were the one being lied to, and all of them were in it together, building this huge prank around that story just to humiliate you. There was no way Hoseok was serious about that, not when the booze was probably melting his brain. 

Before you could continue to think about that, however, Jungkook spoke up. “Man, you guys suck.” He laughed. “I told you I’d do it someday and you never believed it.” 

Ah. That was it. Jungkook had lied about it just like he had done countless times in the past. 

You deflated a little, a sting of pain inside your chest as the conversation continued to unravel around you. Right then and there, you felt like the stupidest person alive, with no right to complain about the consequences you knew would come from that idea. Even if you had almost convinced yourself otherwise, what probably happened was that Jungkook got cornered some time in the past about some other girl, and ended up telling his friends that he liked you instead, just to get out of that situation. Like some of his lies, it snowballed, and it took you to where you two were now. 

It was hard not to feel hurt, even if you still believed you were a bit at fault for agreeing to his moronic plan. You knew you’d end up like this, suffering over someone who didn’t see you the same way, and you still fell headfirst into that trap. Maybe you were the bad guy in that situation, maybe you were the creepy one for taking advantage of his situation just to feel his body against yours, just to kiss him and pretend that it was all true. Maybe you had no room to judge. 

If you concentrated really hard, you could probably pinpoint the exact moment in which you realized that you were head over heels for your best friend. It wasn’t as glamorous as you’d like, just a dirty thought catalyzed by your teen hormones that unleashed an avalanche — it had happened back in the dark, desolate lands of high school, when you were cheering for Jungkook during one of his games. It was an important one, from what you could remember, his brain buzzing with the tension of his senior year and the promise of a fantastic victory. As always, you were there for him: front row, face painted with the colors of your high school, and cheering him on. 

He smiled at you, like he always did, but there was something odd about it. Like a lightning crossing the sky, one simple (yet fatal) intrusive thought popped up inside your head: he’s hot. 

It was all downhill from there. As much as you tried to wave those ideas away, they kept growing and multiplying, finding new ways to justify themselves — not only was Jungkook hot, suddenly, but you also realized that he would be an amazing boyfriend. He was sweet, kind, funny, determined, a bit ditzy sometimes but nothing you couldn’t deal with. He heard you complain about your problems when needed, but also felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you. There were so many shared interests between you two that you were positive that you could talk forever and never run out of topics to discuss. Jungkook was a walking minefield and you just stepped right on it. 

And there you were, stumbling your way down into hell as your lives progressed, and Jungkook got into the same college as you. As predicted, he quickly grew to be the campus’ new star player: a great attacking midfielder, with the number 10 plastered on his shirt and a heart-stopping smile on his face. How on earth could you fight that temptation? It was like a re-enactment of Eve and the snake in the garden of eden. Only the snake had amazing thunder thighs that looked even better with his team’s shorts. 

You always asked yourself if Jungkook knew what he was doing when he used his shirt to dry the sweat on his forehead, leaving his glistening abs in full display; or maybe when he hugged and swirled you around after they won a game. Part of you wanted to believe that he liked you back, even if you couldn’t really see it. Most of you believed that he was just his personality and nothing else. 

“Hey,” he breathed out, voice husky against your ear. You thanked his oversized jacket for concealing the goosebumps on your arms. “You good?” 

Just on the brink of a meltdown, no biggie. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He hummed, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Just a little bit longer, alright?” He placed a tiny kiss there, but it was powerful enough to make you whimper quietly. No one seemed to notice, but you didn’t know why Jungkook did that when you had just told him that your neck was sensitive. “They seem convinced.” 

Maybe “they” should have you included as well, because you had to actively remind yourself that you two were just acting, that he didn’t see you that way. Nevermind the pool of wetness between your legs, nevermind the way your body was on edge with his strong arms pulling you closer; his chiseled abs pressed tightly against your back. Nevermind Jungkook’s sweet smell or the gentle touches of his lips against your skin. It was all fake, dollar store material. It was just a matter of time before your ride became a pumpkin and the dream was over. 

At the same time, you could tell that Jungkook was being affected as well — you could feel the outline of his hard cock poking against your ass when you pressed down on his lap; noticed the tense movements of his arms as they held onto your body. And when Jungkook spoke, with his head placed on your shoulder and a solemn expression on his face, you could tell that he got just a bit choked up every time you shifted around, brushing your ass against his erection. 

The human brain is amazing when it comes to searching for any reason to prove our own theories, however, and that was why you weren’t taking any of those signs seriously — cognitive bias was a thing, and you weren’t falling for its tricks. If there are people out there that believe that the earth is flat, even with a ridiculous amount of evidence against it, you couldn’t trust yourself in believing that you had enough proof to think that Jungkook was interested in you. Maybe your argument was equivalent to “well, I can’t see gravity so it doesn’t exist”, and you didn’t even know it.

So you decided to take it easy, to aim towards the side of caution, as the night progressed into the deeper levels of Dante’s Inferno. By the time that Jungkook decided that you two had accomplished your goal and it was time to get you home, you almost cried in relief. 

You two drove in almost complete silence, only sparsely commenting on a few occurrences of the night. There was a thick blanket of tension hanging between the two of you, a bitter taste in the back of your throat that you couldn’t ignore. It had been a fun night, yeah, but it was done with. Time to burst that bubble and crash back into reality. 

Thankfully or not, depending where you stood, Jungkook didn’t seem to be as worried about those details. He was ridiculously cheerful, beyond proud of his skills, and a little over the moon about the fact that he had been with you the entire night, acting out things he never thought would come true.

“There you go, all done,“ he exclaimed, victorious, the second you two walked into your apartment. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” 

You scoffed, leaning against the wall so you could remove your shoes. “It wasn’t good either,” you said, monotone. You were physically, emotionally and psychologically exhausted, and you seriously didn’t want to look at his annoyingly pretty face for another second. “Have fun telling them about our instantaneous breakup.” 

At that, Jungkook visibly tensed up. “Ha. Yeah…”

You sighed, beyond pissed off (and heartbroken) at that point. You weren’t Jungkook, weren’t built to lie your way through life, to pretend as if the feelings inside your chest were not your own. “By the way — fuck, I hate high heels,” you complained, throwing your shoes on the floor with a bit more force than necessary. Jungkook flinched a little, distracted. “By the way, what did Hoseok mean by that?”

He blinked, swallowing dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck — think of something. “By what?”

You raised one eyebrow. “Saying that you’d never have the guts to confess or whatever.” 

The worst part was that Jungkook could see in your downcast eyes that you had no idea what you were asking him. You seriously couldn’t tell that he had feelings for you — or, if you did, you simply couldn’t believe it. Or maybe you just despised him on a level in which a crush would be preposterous to even consider. “Ah.” He clicked his tongue. Think, you dumbass! Come up with something! “That.” 

You were getting a little choked up now. There was no way you couldn’t notice the trademarked signals of Jungkook buying himself some time, trying to come up with something inside that evil head of his. Maybe you had been right thinking that he had mentioned your name randomly one day, just to save his ass, and now he was dealing with the backlash of his actions. “Yeah, what was it about?” You pressed on. 

Jungkook chuckled, nervous. “Man… I was really hoping you’d forget that.” 

You took a step closer to him, anticipating what was to come. If he was going to hurt you, you wished he would just do it quickly, without dragging it out so much. “Just tell me, Jungkook.” 

And he was trying. Kind of. Jungkook was looking at you like his brain was frying, the Widow’s blue screen reflecting off his widened eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, stare falling to the floor. “I can’t lie to you about that.”

You scoffed, venom running up your throat. That was priceless. “You tell white lies almost every day, why is this so different?” 

“Because it’s not a white lie.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and narrowed your eyes, taking another step towards him. “Why are you thinking about lying to me, in the first place?” You asked. “Even if… even if it will hurt me. I deserve to know.” 

“Uhh…” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his head. “Because the truth kind of sucks and it can fuck everything up. And I don’t wanna do that.” 

Apparently you were right about your previous theory, then. Jungkook didn’t see you the same way, after all. And that was fine (it wasn’t), but he couldn’t even grow a pair and tell you straight on. “So you would rather avoid it?” You didn’t relent, motivated by your frustration, your hurt, that sickly feeling of betrayal — everything at once. “That has been kind of a running theme with you, hasn’t it?” You stared at him, but Jungkook could only avert his eyes from your burning gaze, instead looking at his feet. “Fine. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but quit dragging me into these bullshit lies of yours. I’m tired.”

“No one has ever cancelled a date with me,” he blurted out.

You hesitated, blinking a few times as you digested his words. “What?”

He breathed out. “No one has ever cancelled a date with me. It was all me,” Jungkook confessed. “I lied to you about that because I wanted to spend more time with you. And I didn’t care about anyone else.”

“Wh—“

Overwhelmed by a random wave of courage, his gaze snapped up at you. “I like when you watch my practice and bring me stuff, and I like when you invite me to those dumb movie marathons and make me watch the most disgusting shit,” Jungkook continued, his words falling incoherently from his mouth. You could only stare, flabbergasted, as he spilled months — years — of secrets all at once. “And I like watching you study, and I love seeing you laugh, I love spending time with you, and Hoseok is fucking tired of hearing me talk about it and do nothing.”

“I... don’t understand what you’re saying,” you told him. 

“I told the guys that we were dating because you were literally the only person that popped in my mind, and the only person I actually wanted to be with,” he just went on, not paying attention to your previous comment. Jungkook was a little on edge now, a bit breathless and wide-eyed. He’s nervous, you realized. It had been a long time since you saw him like that. “And this was the best night I’ve had in a while, just because you were there and I— I’m fucking everything up, I told you I would.”

“Jungkook,” you called softly, feeling as if every inhale was an olympic sport. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you were afraid of having a syncope before you could hear the words you needed so badly. “Just tell me what you want to say.” 

He cleared his throat, shifting the weight from one leg to the other. “I’m like… how do I put this…?” Jungkook paused, took a deep breath, and dropped the bomb. “I’ve been kind of in love with you ever since we were like eight, yeah.” 

Record scratch. Freeze frame. “You what?” 

Jungkook chuckled. “Yep… awkward,” he said. “Sorry.” 

It hasn’t settled in just yet, which explained why you didn’t start screaming at him. “And you have the guts to tell me that I drop things naturally?” You asked. “Are you serious? You better not be fucking with me right now.”

He raised one hand and placed it on his chest. “I’m not, promise.” 

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks. “Jeon Jungkook!” You screeched, both hands flying to hold onto his shirt, rocking him back and forth with the strength of a thousand men. “I’m gonna make you swallow my fist!”

Jungkook was dumbfounded, ten times more confused than when you tried to explain to him the plot of the Velocipastor — which really wasn’t that hard, it was just a pastor who was also a dinosaur shifter. But his brain wasn’t good at following those types of unpredictable plots, and that counted your burst of anger. “That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting at all,” he murmured, voice flat with disbelief. 

But it was your turn to ramble incoherently. “You’re an idiot! You’re even worse than I thought!” You were still speaking loudly, letting all that frustration wash out of you, giving place to relief. “You made me go through all this fucking night, kissing you and pretending to be your girlfriend, while you actually like me? You prick!” 

You punched his chest — his stupid, muscular, rock-hard chest. “Ouch!” He whined, but you doubted it actually hurt. 

“I was almost crying because of how hard it was to suppress my own feelings for you,” you told him, pulling on his shirt once again. You wanted to take it off, wanted to kiss him until he was all that you could think about. But you also wanted to dropkick him straight to the deepest circle of hell. “And you like me back? Idiot!” 

“Wait, wait, what?” Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, a perfect picture of his surprise. “For real?”

“For real.” Your shoulders slumped, the anger that possessed your body left you as quickly as it had arrived. “I’m in love with you too, you smooth-brained asshole. Ever since high school.” 

He blinked, dumbfounded. “I had no idea.” 

“Didn’t I tell you that speaking the truth is always the better option? You never listen.” You tugged on his shirt one more time, for dramatic effect. “Dumbass.” 

“You’re the dumbass. And no, I don’t think I do,” his voice was flat, mind navigating miles away from your place. “___?”

“What?” You barked. 

“How mad are you?” 

You groaned. “Pretty mad, why?”

It was his turn to take a step towards you, the heat that emanated off his body now surrounding you. “Because I’m gonna kiss you right now and I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t bite my face off.”

You sighed, relaxing against his torso. Jungkook’s hands came up to rest on your waist, guiding you closer to him. “I’ll try my best,” you told him, “go ahead.” 

Maybe all those foolish love songs and melodramatic romantic poets were onto something, because you swore you saw fireworks when Jungkook finally moved in, crashing his lips on yours. Yes, you had kissed him already that night, but there was no way those two situations could be comparable, not when you felt much lighter now that the secret was out, and that you knew what he felt when he pulled you closer, when he sighed against your mouth and caressed your lower back. 

Long years of friendship granted you the knowledge that Jungkook was tender with some things, rough with others — he was gentle with kids, with his other friends, with you; he was hard around the edges when it came to his matches (being especially fiery around championships), people he didn’t like, and goals he wanted to reach. As he kissed you, you could notice him trying to figure out which approach to take with you: his lips were soft on yours, tongue slowly exploring your mouth, but his hands were harsh, groping your ass as he pushed you up against the nearest wall, a growl vibrating inside his chest. 

Maybe it was a bit evil to push his buttons when you knew he was so dangerously close to snapping, but you weren’t in the right frame of mind — or, rather, you weren’t in any frame of mind at all. So, knowing very well that Jungkook was the most competitive person you knew, you pulled away from the kiss to say, “Come on, why don’t you kiss me like you mean it?” 

Which might have been the dumbest final words you could’ve uttered. 

You were graced with just a couple seconds of hesitation from his part — frustration and desire flashing inside his hooded eyes — before he was crashing his mouth onto yours once again. Jungkook didn’t say anything, because he didn’t need to: the messy, sensual kiss he gave you was more than enough to make you shut up. Just according to the keikaku, of course. 

His hands were in the back of your tights before you could think, pulling you up and pinning you against the wall. You moaned against his lips, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth when he rolled his center against yours — cock hard and heavy inside his pants, brushing against your covered heat. Jungkook did it two, three, four times, slowly grinding against you like he couldn’t hold himself back any further, groaning at the feeling. 

When he pulled away, you were almost seeing entire constellations forming in your vision, your breath labored and mind dizzy with desire. “Fuck,” he cursed, resting his forehead on yours. “Want you so fucking bad.” 

“Want you too,” you told him. “Bedroom?” 

He pulled back so he could look at you better. “Sure?” 

You nodded. “Sure.” Leaning in, you placed a timid kiss on his lips. “Want you to fuck me, Jungkook.” 

After all those years, that was all that he needed to hear. He was quick to pull you away from the wall, hands holding your body up and your legs wrapped around his waist. Jungkook knew your apartment like the back of his hand, but he still kept his eyes open as he walked towards your bedroom, your lips mindlessly attacking his thick neck. You had dreamed about doing that so many times and you could say with confidence that you weren’t disappointed by the shuddering breaths he let out, or the small grunts he gifted you every time you sucked his skin just right. By the time that Jungkook placed you on your bed, crawling over you, you were so wet that it was almost embarrassing. 

He looked at you like he was hypnotized, his hands roaming up your legs, slowly spreading them so he could place himself in between. With the action, your skirt rolled up, exposing your underwear. “Shit, I thought about doing this so many times,” Jungkook murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself. “I can’t believe it’s real.” 

“You’re so sappy.” You giggled, but you couldn’t deny that his low voice was getting to you. You shivered when his palms met the exposed skin of your waist, pausing in the space between your skirt and your sleeveless top. Jungkook was deep in thought, his gaze flickering all over your body. “What is it?” You asked. 

“You look so fucking hot in this.” He pulled on the large piece of clothing, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. “Wanna fuck you with the jacket on. Just the jacket.” 

You almost choked on your saliva — well that was something you weren’t expecting at all. “Seriously?” You raised one eyebrow, teasing him. “You have that much of a hard-on for sports?” 

Jungkook didn’t seem to be in the mood for jokes, though, because he gave you a serious answer. “No, I have that much of a hard-on for you.” He dipped in so he could nestle his face on the curve of your neck, humming as he inhaled your scent. Once again, you were faced with the contrast of his soft lips against your skin, but the rough tug of his hands on your skirt. “Wanna fuck my girl with only my jacket on, what’s so wrong about that?” 

You whimpered when he licked on your sensitive spot, trying to push your legs together, but being stopped by his presence between them. Jungkook successfully pulled your skirt out of you, throwing it somewhere on the floor. “Since when are you this possessive?” You asked. 

He moved back, hands progressing to your tube top and sliding it down. It seemed as if the world had conspired in his favor, because it was just so easy to leave you only with his team clothes on, the elastic material leaving your body quick enough. “I’m not possessive,” he responded, only half there. His brain was trying to understand the vision of you before his eyes, only with your panties and his jacket. Jungkook could feel his cock throbbing inside his pants, begging for relief, and he just knew that sight would plague him forever. “Wanna make sure that you know you’re mine, though. I’ve thought about this for too long.” 

As you fumbled for something to say, he dove back in, his mouth attacking your breasts with no time. Your back arched, fingers tangling in his messy hair as he sucked and licked your nipples, his strong hands squeezing your tits every time you moaned out. It was almost humiliating how reactive you were, with your shallow breaths and broken calls of his name, but Jungkook was fucking loving it, and he just wanted more of it. 

You melted under his touches as he pulled himself closer to you, his mouth tracing its way back to your clavicles, then your neck. Much to your dismay, his hands were still on your breasts, playing with your erect nipples as he finally found that one spot that made you yelp. 

“W-Wait,” you stammered, “my neck is sensitive.”

Jungkook knew that already. In fact, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since you mentioned it back at the party; his cock stiff inside his pants at the memory alone. “I noticed,” he groaned, the vibrations of his voice spreading throughout your skin. One of his hands slithered between your bodies, hastily pulling your underwear to the side so his fingers could plunge between your folds. At the sensation of your arousal, Jungkook growled, pressing his erection against your thigh. “Holy fuck. You’re soaked.”

“I told you,” you said, feeling like your brain was about to melt and drip out of your ears. It was hard to concentrate when he was making out with your neck like that, sucking and biting the skin before liking the same spot he had just attacked. Still, the sudden plunging of his finger inside your pussy caught your attention in an instant. “J-Jungkook, I’m—” 

How shameful was it that you couldn’t even finish a damn sentence? Lust was getting the best of you, pushing your rationalizations aside and filling your lungs with desire. Jungkook soon added a second finger inside you, stretching you wide as he continued to fuck you. It was a fantastic sensation — his hand was much larger than yours, and you were sure you’d be able to cum like that if it kept it up for long enough. 

Jungkook moaned against your neck, pulling his head back so he could take a look at you. His cock throbbed at the sight of your dazed-out face, your parted lips looking so dangerously inviting to him, “Tell me what you want,” he asked, diving in to kiss you. He sucked on your tongue, making you whine as he pulled back. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

“Want you,” you said, nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

Jungkook liked the sharp pain that came from it, raising the speed of his fingers just a bit. “I’m right here.”

“No,” you whimpered, blinking back the tears of frustration that covered your irises. God, Jungkook couldn’t even believe you were all his. “Want your cock inside me, please.” 

Listening to you saying that was like experiencing a choir of angels singing directly to him. Jungkook had waited far too long to get you alone like that, so beautiful and pliant beneath him, and there was no way in hell he would deny you your request. 

So he got moving, his hand flying to the back of his shirt, which he tugged off with one swift motion. Your eyes fell to his toned chest, roaming his sweaty skin as he moved onto his belt. “Take those off.” He signaled with his head towards your panties. 

You nodded, sliding your underwear down and throwing it to the side. Even with his jacket still on — which, you admitted, it was both objectively and subjectively hot — you felt extremely exposed, thighs closing just slightly when Jungkook took his pants and boxers off. 

“Keep them open,” he warned, his stare stuck to your glistening folds, and you did. His face was one of sheer lust, tongue coming out to wet his lips as he placed himself back in place. “Wanna see you cum on my fingers,” he breathed, “but I’m too hard. Need to be inside you right now.” 

Your attention flickered downwards, pulled by the small collision of his cock against your clit. You winced at the feeling, but one of his large hands kept you in place as he moved closer to your heat. The constant drumming of your pulse was all that you could hear for a second, heart skipping a beat when you fully noticed his size. 

Would it be weird to say that Jungkook had a pretty dick? Because he did. And a big one too, which made you second guess your own limits for a moment. 

As if he was reading your mind, his cockhead pressed against your pussy, so warm and wet that Jungkook swore he was about to lose his mind — or what was left of it. There was nothing more that he wanted then to nestle himself in your heat, bury himself deep inside you until you were the only thing he could think about. “Shit, look at you,” he murmured, brushing his tip against your entrance. Your figure twitched under him, a soft gasp leaving your mouth at the feeling. “Bet I could slide right in.” 

He was hypnotized by the squelching sounds of your pussy, the way your opening fluttered around his crown as he slowly started to press himself into you. He wanted to do it slowly so he could pay attention to every detail of you, every small exclamation of pleasure that dripped like honey from your lips. 

The world around you two was getting smaller and hotter by the minute, suffocating you and pulling the air out of your lungs. Your eyelashes fluttered as Jungkook’s cock slid inside you, just the tip at first, your back arching as your walls clenched around him, almost as if your body was rejecting his size. “You’re so big,” you whined, burry eyes fighting to focus on his face. 

Jungkook, however, wasn’t looking at you, but at the way his member sank between your folds, diving into your wet heat. “Yeah?” He breathed out, jaw clenching. It was taking everything inside him not to start pounding into you. “I’m sure you can take it, don’t you think?” 

You nodded, and it took a moment for your words to catch up to you. “Y-Yes,” you said. 

Jungkook was more than halfway inside you now, and his mind was more than halfway gone, thrown out of the window and into the gelid nocturnal winds. The way you were wrapping around him should be illegal; you were so perfect that jungkook was sure he could never find a drug that would get him so high. “That’s it, be greedy for me,” he groaned, “take everything.” 

He went as deep as he could, his cock almost brushing against your cervix and your cunt throbbing against him. Maybe he had died and was in paradise, because there was no way he could be feeling so good. 

“Move, please,” you asked meekly. 

Lucky you, he was more than happy to comply. 

Jungkook tilted his hips back, until just his tip was still inside you, only to bottom out again, feeling as your cunt throbbed around him. He did this with unbearable patience at first, allowing your body to get accustomed to his cock splitting you open before he started to pick up the pace. Most of his self control had already burned out, though, at it wasn’t long before he was fucking you fast, rough; groaning at the way your tits jumped every time he shived his length back inside you. 

Once again, he felt like a virgin — you were too much, it seemed. Everything about you got him searching for the stars, wishing for more and moaning out every time your cunt squeezed around him. You were so fucking wet, he thought, so tight and warm, that he wasn’t even thinking about cumming, just about how wished to keep fucking you forever. At the same time, Jungkook was sure that he wouldn’t last long, not when you were looking at him like that, calling his name again and again until it silenced all his thoughts. 

Your breath hitched when his cock brushed against your sensitive spot. “Right there, right there,” you sobbed, nails scratching the skin of his arms. Jungkook caught onto your request straight away, keeping the same angle until you were a babbling mess under him. “Oh m-my god, yeah,” you cried out. “S-So good.”

“Fuck, that’s tight,” Jungkook cursed, his hands digging into your thighs, shoving them up for him so he could reach deeper, fuck you harder. He couldn’t stop moaning, gasping, producing the most beautiful sounds for you. “S-Shit, you’re just pulling my cock in. Your pussy feels amazing.” If given enough time, he could go crazy staring at the way in which his cock disappeared between your folds, only to come back dripping with your arousal, and then slamming back in. “You’re just so fucking hot,” he couldn’t help but say it out loud. “Play with your tits for me.” 

You didn’t have the guts to deny him, your hands palming your tits, squeezing the soft flesh. You whimpered at the feeling, eyes closing in bliss as he continued to fuck you. 

“That’s it, so good for me,” Jungkook praised, hips losing their rhythm for a second. His cock was already throbbing, orgasm threatening to hit him any time now. He needed you to cum first, though. “Your pussy too. Come on.” 

That time, you hesitated a little, a broken sob falling from your lips as you found his gaze. However, you couldn’t deny it — you wanted to be good for him, to get his praises again and again until that was all that you could hear. So you followed his command, two fingers, sinking into your wetness before trailing back to your clit. 

A rush of pleasure ran through your veins, pussy clenching around his cock as your moments grew desperate, needy for more. You were bordering on delirious by that point, your mind unable to focus on one thing, instead jumping between all the stimulation you were getting — your hand squeezing your breast; your fingers rubbing your clit; Jungkook’s cock drilling inside you. “T-Too much,” you cried. 

God, but that’s exactly what he wanted. Jungkook wanted to see that pretty, overwhelmed face of yours, wanted to show you that every minute of waiting had been worth it. “Yeah? But you can take it for me, can’t you?” He moaned under his breath, starting to get lost in his own pleasure. You were getting tighter by the second, which was a dangerous thing. “You can cream my cock if I ask you to, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll do anything f-for you.” 

Jungkook sighed at your words, cock throbbing inside you. “Good girl, just like that,” he husked. “Such a good girl.” 

Tears started to prickle your eyes, and you didn’t know if it was because of how overwhelmed you were, or because your emotions were just now starting to tip over. “J-Jungkook,” you called his name, for a moment not knowing if you would follow it up with something else. His eyes found your own, dazed ones, and his heart skipped a beat at how beautiful and his you looked at that moment. “Love y-you.” 

Years of fantasizing about that confession could’ve never prepared the two of you for such an honest, unexpected moment. Jungkook felt his soul reach levels of happiness which he had never experienced before, mouth only able to say one thing in return. “Love you too.” He pressed his forehead against yours, movements becoming more sloppy, desperate. The new angle was an amazing discovery, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, which tore a loud cry from you. “Holy shit,” he moaned. “You’re getting so fucking t-tight around my cock.” 

“Close,” you breathed out, letting go of his previous requests and just taking your hands to his face instead. Jungkook stared at you like he could see the entire universe in your eyes, his hot breaths hitting your face in gentle waves. “K-Kiss me, please.” 

There was no need to repeat yourself. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, trapping you in a kiss that felt both like too much and too little at the same. You barely had any time to dive into the caress of his lips on yours before your high washed over you — walls spasming around his length as you dove into bliss; moaning into the kiss and holding to his broad shoulders. 

He broke the kiss right after, a stuttering, failed breath leaving his chest. “L-Love you,” he choked out, “so much.” Jungkook gasped. He was so close, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to let go just yet. It felt too good — having you was too perfect. “Can’t b-believe you’re mine.” 

You smiled at his state, one hand brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead. “Love you too,” you said back. You could say it again and again, without ever getting tired. After so many years swallowing it down, nothing felt so free. “It’s okay, you can let go.” 

Jungkook nodded, only mildly aware of his own actions. With all the force within him, he pushed himself away from you, pulling out from your heat. Soon, his hand wrapped around his cock, using your arousal to pump himself towards his much-needed release. “Shit,” he choked up, throwing his head back. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” 

Jungkook grunted as he finally reached his high; cock throbbing in his hands. His cum splattered all over your belly, a few white ropes hitting the underside of your tits as well; dripping down to your mound and pelvis as his movements started to slow down. Even then, so fucked-out and overwhelmed, Jungkook looked like a god you’d be more than happy to worship. 

“Fuck,” he heaved, hooded eyes trailing over your form. By some miracle, probably the work of some mysterious sports god, his jacket remained untouched. “That looks so hot.” 

You smiled, taking a glimpse at your body. “And messy.” 

He let out a breathy, tired laugh. “Yeah. Gonna clean you up, just give me a second. I almost blacked out here.” 

Playfully, you kicked the side of his thigh. “You better,” you told him. “And don’t be so melodramatic.” 

“Rude.” He leaned in, placing a kiss on your lips. You still felt like you were dreaming, trapped in an alternate reality. If that was the case, you didn’t want to wake up. “Next time I’ll cum in your mouth so you’ll learn some manners.” 

Next time. Those words fell like a stone inside your stomach. It was pretty much impossible to mask your lovesick gaze now. “Yeah, bold of you to believe it’ll change a thing.” You pushed him off you, signaling towards the bathroom. “Go, be a good boy and go get me a towel.” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but did as you said, leaving the bed soon after. “I liked you better when you were pretending to be my fake girlfriend,” he spoke from the corridor. “You were more polite.”

“I was acting,” you said. “This is what you’re gonna get.” 

He laughed, appearing back in the room. “Ah, well, I guess I made my choice years ago.” 

That managed to shut you up real fast, heart hammering against your ribcage as Jungkook started cleaning you up. His movements were tender on your skin, feather-like touches that moved up your abdomen, to your breasts, then back between your legs. During all that, a familiar, comfortable silence fell between you two — one that you had grown used to; so empty and yet so full. 

After he was done, Jungkook discarded the towel, returning to his rightful place next to you. Like it was your second nature, you curled yourself up next to him, head resting on his chest and his arm wrapping around your waist. 

The world was perfect for exactly thirty seconds before he decided to ruin it. “So…” Jungkook started, a mischievous smirk already curling on his lips, “you like like me.” 

You scoffed, propping your chin on his chest and meeting his gaze. Jungkook was too cute and too hot for his own good, and his post-sex state managed to incorporate both elements in a hazardous combination. “Yes. And you like like me back.” You remarked. “Did you seriously have to go through all these steps instead of just, I don’t know, telling me?” 

He threw his head back, eyes closing in sheer desperation. “I didn’t know!” 

“Everyone knew!” You exclaimed back, flabbergasted. You couldn’t believe that all those years of shared distress could’ve been solved with the most basic common sense. “Do you think I watch your games because I like them? I tell you all the time I hate sports! Dumbass!” 

Jungkook flinched when you slapped the top of his head lightly, forging pain. “Ouch! You’re the dumbass. And I thought you were kidding.” He pouted, eyes drifting off towards a corner of the room. You could tell he was thinking, so you gave him his time. “But now that you mention it…”

You rolled your eyes, laying back down. “Yeah, that’s not so hard to—”

“I cannot stand body horror.” 

“What?” You shrieked, sitting up at lightning speed. That managed to be the most unexpected thing Jungkook had told you that night — scratcher that: ever. “You told me you loved watching body horror with me.” 

He shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face as he was reminded of every horror movie he had ever watched. “I almost puke watching it. I just pretend I enjoy it because it makes you happy.” 

For a moment, your mouth hung open, mind working a million miles per hour to make sense of his admission. Thinking back to it, you had noticed how frequently Jungkook went to the bathroom while watching Tusk; about how many times he coughed and turned his head away from the Human Centipede. “Oh my god.” Your shoulders slumped, your voice was a frail little thing, filled by disbelief. You couldn’t call him dumb when you had acted just the same. “We’re both idiots.”

Jungkook laughed as you returned to your previous position, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Yeah, I think that’s the only possible conclusion.”

[waiting-for-a-sunny-day]

Falling in love is easy. Admitting it is not.

Gojo had long since accepted what he and Geto were: 'Satoru and Suguru, platonic life partners.' But that didn't make it any easier to ignore how badly he wished they were something more.

\

Geto had to stop his ridiculous pining. Even if Satoru wasn't straight - which he was - he wasn't interested in being anyone's boyfriend. Geto just needed to find a way to make his heart realize that.

\

(Geto and Gojo have been inseparable for 5 years, but it takes Geto going on a first date for them to start to figure out their feelings)

--

“You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, flopping back on Geto's bed.

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex-negative person or a prude. He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

– - - -

My fix-it, mutual pining, eventual smut, happy ending fic on AO3! (Read it here)

(Writing this fic is quite literally my form of self-medicating away the Satosugu pain by creating my own fix-it universe where everything ends up ok…)

[huenjin]

domestic disturbance.

summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.

pairing — bang chan x reader

genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au

word count — 21k words.

warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut

smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!

note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x

"Did I have to come in today?" 

"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.

"What does he want now?"

You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.

Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.

He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"

You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.

"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly. 

"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.

"What now?"

"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."

"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly. 

"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.

Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.

Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded. 

"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.

"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.

"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.

"What did you tell them?"

He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."

"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.

"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"

"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"

"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"

Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"

You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."

"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows. 

"Wh—"

"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."

"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."

"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.

"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."

"When hell turns cold, yeah."

You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.

The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."

"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.

"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"

Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"

"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.

"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"

Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."

"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."

You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.

"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."

"But—"

"It's Christmas in a few days!"

"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"

"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil. 

"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"

"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."

"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly. 

"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"

"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."

"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.

"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."

"But—"

"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."

"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.

"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.

"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.

"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.

"Fine. I'm in."

"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation. 

"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,

"This could be an accident."

Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."

"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."

The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.

"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do. 

"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out. 

"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."

You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"

"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with. 

"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."

"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file. 

"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."

Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."

"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."

"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."

"As if!"

"We could just go now and investigate—"

"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."

"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.

"It'll draw the media in like vultures."

"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?

"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you." 

"Undercover? Undercover as what?"

Twenty fours hours later, you are here. 

A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house. 

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it. 

"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."

"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."

"Don't make me throw this chair at you."

Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.

Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"

"Of course. We can't be rude to them."

Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."

"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"

"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.

"Now let's go, honey!"

The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."

The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."

He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."

Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.

On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.

You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.

"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.

"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."

Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"

"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."

Family? With you? Fuck. 

"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.

"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.

"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder." 

Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.

"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"

"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."

"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright. 

"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel. 

Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."

"I'm sor—"

Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."

Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"

"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.

"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.

"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."

"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun. 

"Bye!"

Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand. 

"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"

"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."

"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."

"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.

"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."

"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"

"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."

"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."

You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.

"Why?"

"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.

"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare. 

"Why?"

"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.

"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"

Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room. 

Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you. 

But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.

"Chan?"

He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."

"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."

"Maybe."

You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.

"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."

You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something. 

You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.

"What are you searching for? I could help you."

"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."

"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."

You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"

Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back. 

"I don't mind."

"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."

Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.

"How do you go about this?"

"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.

The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree. 

Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights. 

He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.

"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"

"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"

"You're doing so well, don't worry."

And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.

The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.

"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.

"Did Jisung really give us all that?"

You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."

"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."

"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute. 

His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.

And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.

It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.

Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.

In his kiss, you are home.

"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"

Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.

"Mistletoe!"

"What?"

"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side. 

"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."

"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"

You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.

After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.

The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.

Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people. 

"At least it's good meat." You mumble.

"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.

"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."

"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.

You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it. 

"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."

Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"

She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."

"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"

"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"

"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling." 

Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.

Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"

You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"

"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."

Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."

"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.

"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."

"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"

Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"

They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.

"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.

"Called it!"

"Tell us everything!"

You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."

"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.

"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.

Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."

Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."

"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.

"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes. 

"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.

"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right. 

The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.

Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."

You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?" 

Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."

You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."

"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter. 

The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.

"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.  

Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does. 

You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"

"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."

"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."

"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"

The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh. 

"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"

"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.

"But?"

"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."

"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it. 

Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"

"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."

"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.

"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"

"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad." 

"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"

"Yes, please!"

"Hey—"

It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you. 

You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"

"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."

"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?

"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."

"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help." 

You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.

"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.

"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."

"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself. 

"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"

And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.

There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.

"Chan—"

Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud. 

"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."

"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"

You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.

"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."

"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."

"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."

Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.

"Are you done?"

"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars." 

Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."

Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars." 

Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.

You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?

Chan makes you understand. 

You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you. 

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt. 

In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.

He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely. 

You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.

Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.

His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again. 

And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.

Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.

His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.

His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.

He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you. 

"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.

“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. 

"Chan!" 

His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.

"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.

You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure. 

"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."

His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."

His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.

Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.

Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you. 

Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.

"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."

Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips. 

"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"

The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.

"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."

He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.

It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.

Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip. 

"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.

"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."

"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.

"Please, please, please—"

The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it. 

He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."

He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."

Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.

You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.

Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering. 

"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.

"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Good girls don't swear."

"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"

His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."

"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.

Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.

You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.

Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.

"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.

Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.

“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs. 

"You're doing great, love." 

He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.

Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids. 

He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.

He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."

And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash. 

He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"

You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.

You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan. 

"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.

Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.

Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it. 

"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.

You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.

“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.

When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.

You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."

Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.

Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.

You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.

He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.

Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure. 

Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him. 

"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans. 

Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."

Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.

As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.

You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.

Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.

He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. 

“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.

“Then, come.”

Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”

Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.

Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.

In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.

You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.

Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.  

"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"

"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."

"I'm firm on this theory."

"What theory?"

"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."

"But Somin?"

"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."

"You're the nagging kind of husband!" 

"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.

Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.

"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.

"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."

Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.

And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds. 

"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"

"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not a mistletoe."

"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky. 

"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.

Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you. 

"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"

"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.

"The moon is beautiful."

It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house. 

The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.

"Is someone…"

"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead. 

You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.

Who in the world is this child?

"Is everything alright?"

The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.

"Where's your mum and dad?"

"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.

"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."

And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him. 

Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage. 

An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension. 

You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.

This morning however, the sun shines brighter. 

Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"

Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.

"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns. 

"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"

Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.

"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"

"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.

"Did you crack the case?"

"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"

Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."

You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"

"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal. 

"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."

Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.

"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"

"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.

"Be home by 6:30?"

"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.

You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."

Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."

He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting. 

"Any luck?"

"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.

"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease. 

"Would my wife do that?"

"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line. 

"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."

"He has an alibi?"

"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."

You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.

"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."

You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts." 

You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.

You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."

You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.

You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.

"Oh, Hey," you stammer.

"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.

"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."

"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.

"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."

"Of?"

"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."

"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.

"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."

She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."

"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.

"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best." 

Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.

"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."

Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.

Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."

You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"

"It's not a sex tape."

"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Chan."

"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."

"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."

Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"

"Almost everyone."

Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.

"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.

"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly. 

You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.

"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?" 

You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."

"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."

"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"

"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"

"Don't twist my words," you laugh.  

"Do you want to get married?"

You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."

Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"

You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."

You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."

"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions. 

He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.

"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.

A step too late to realise as always.

You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.

You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.

"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive. 

"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"

"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.

"It was you!"

"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.

Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"

You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."

"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."

"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"

"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."

You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."

"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."

Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.

"Who are you, huh? A cop?"

"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."

"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.

"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.

"Well, well, aren't you fast?"

"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.

"Enough talk!"

You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.

"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand. 

"That fucking hurts, you bitch." 

You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"

"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.

"Are you done?"

"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off. 

You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."

She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.

"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"

"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her. 

"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."

"Did you reach home?"

Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.

"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."

"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"

"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."

"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"

"Did you reach?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat. 

"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.

It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.

The moon is beautiful.

"Chan?"

"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."

[wisteriashouse]

irresistible.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw, fuck or die troupe (i can’t believe i did this)

word count: 5015

remarks: a commission by the lovely @sburbanjumble​!! i hope you enjoy sweet and spicy kyoujurou <3 this is a rewrite of desire, but if kyoujurou were the one hit by the demon instead!

This demon is unlike any other you’ve ever faced before.

“Kyoujurou, follow up on my attack!” You shout as you press forward with your blade, putting all your strength in your arms as you aim for the demon’s neck. Eyes widening as your nichirin blade descends in a gleaming arc, the demon barely manages to throw up her arms in time to shield herself, and there’s a couple of wet thumps as her limbs fall to the grass, sliced clean off by your sword. Behind you, Kyoujurou leaps down, his sword held high as he swings.

“Flame Breathing, Third Form, Blazing Universe!”

You have to leap out of the way to dodge the shockwaves from Kyouojurou’s strike, so powerful that you feel the ground under your feet tremble for a second. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon is just as fast as well - before Kyoujurou’s sword can cut clean through her neck, she vanishes in a cloud of sickly smelling smoke.

Your eyes dart around the darkness of the forest, blade already held up in an offensive stance for the slightest signal to attack, but Kyoujurou lands nimbly in front of you, holding out one hand to pull you back and the other gripping his own sword tight.

“We still don’t know what her abilities are or what her smoke does. Don’t be too hasty,” he warns you, voice low. Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but at your partner’s stern words, you force yourself to take a few breaths to calm yourself down. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down.

“Okay, I got it.” Adjusting the grip on your sword once more, you let out a breath and hold up your blade. “I got caught up in the moment for a bit. Sorry about that.”

The battle hardened expression on Kyoujurou’s face breaks for just a second to beam at you warmly, and its familiarity puts you at ease. “It’s no problem,” Kyoujurou smiles. “You know I’ve always got your back no matter what-” his eyes widen for a split second at something behind you. “Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, however, five shining claws erupt out of the shadows straight towards you - only your reflexes, honed from years of training, allow you to dodge by jumping back right in time, the trace of a sickly sweet scent tickling your nose. Its regeneration speed is fast. Behind you, Kyoujurou slashes at the demon once more, but it vanishes into the darkness of the forest before the blade can connect. Disoriented and senses thrown into disarray by the sudden attack, you almost don’t notice fangs bared at you until it’s too late.

“[name]!” There’s a forceful tug on your arm and you’re sent stumbling forward a few steps, clouds of fuschia pink smoke erupting into the air right where you’d been standing less than a second ago. You’re left coughing and hacking as a sickly fragrance, but through the murky haze clouding your mind, you remember Kyoujurou, who was left standing in the spot that you’d been in prior.

“Kyoujurou!” Gripping your sword tightly with one hand and waving the residue smoke away from your face with the other, your eyes dart about the clearing, searching for Kyoujurou. “Are you alright?”

You find Kyoujurou surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and his hands clasped over his mouth, the demon responsible for it all cackling madly as she raises her claws, pointed tips glinting in the dim light of the moon. Before she can bring them down, however, you lunge forward with your blade with a forward strike, the tip of your blade piercing clean through her shoulder and pinning her against a tree. The pained scream that she lets out must have been heard for miles around.

You take this brief moment to glance back at Kyoujurou, heart hammering wildly in your chest with concern. “Kyoujurou, are you alright?” You call, voice urgent. Kyoujurou does not reply, instead shaking his head firmly as he hunches over, clearly in discomfort. Poison, perhaps? Anxiety floods through you, but you steel yourself and turn back to the demon.

“What did your smoke do to him?”

The demon only laughs at your demand, even as blood trickles down the wound on her shoulder. “Did you really think I would tell you? Think again! As if I would ever tell an accursed demon slayer like you-”

Gripping your sword by the handle, you wrench it with all your might and the demon lets out another shriek of agony, so shrill you can feel your ears ringing. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” you say icily, teeth gritted. While you take no pleasure in causing another creature’s pain, even demons, there’s only so much dallying you can take when Kyoujurou is suffering behind you. “Tell me, and I will speed your passing. If not...” You raise your sword in a wordless warning.

It is brief, but you catch the faintest flicker of fear in the demon’s eyes as she stares up at you. For good measure, you tighten your grip on your sword once more, ready to drive it into her flesh a second time, but she speaks.

“Fine,” she spits, her glare so venomous you can almost feel it eating away at your skin. “My smoke causes an... arousal of the human senses, sending them into overdrive and consuming the mind. If that man doesn’t lie with someone...” her smile is fanged with wicked amusement, “his mind will go insane with lust and he’ll suffer in agonizing pain!”

At her words, your breath is caught in your throat. As much as you want to say that all demons do is lie, from the look in her eyes to the triumphant grin on her blood stained lips, all the signs say that she is telling the truth. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time nor luxury to ponder over this too much, not when every second counts now.

“Then, just as I promised.” Yanking your sword from her flesh, you decapitate her with one swift strike - too fast for her to even let out another scream. Even before her severed head has hit the ground, you’re already running to Kyoujurou’s side, the man having sagged to his knees and only kept upright by the sword he’s driven into the ground to use as a crutch. Crouching next to him, you support his weight as gently as you can, but the heat radiating off his skin takes you by surprise. “Kyoujurou, you’re burning up!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou barely manages to make out between laboured breaths, his face twisted from the discomfort. Quickly, you raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his hand latches onto your wrist before you can so much as touch his bare skin. He’s trembling faintly, as hard as he tries to conceal it from you, and it almost scares you to see him like this. “Don’t… Not when I’m like this. You should probably leave.”

“What?” You hiss at him, equal parts angry and baffled. “This isn’t a matter of pride, Kyoujurou! I know that you’re a Pillar, but you’ll most definitely not be fine like this. We need to get you to the nearest village, then we can think about what we can do from there. Maybe they’ll have strong enough painkillers that will be able to knock you out for a while, or something to help alleviate the pain-”

“The nearest village is at least a day’s travel from here,” Kyoujurou cuts you off, shaking his head urgently. “And besides, it’s not safe for you to be here with me right now.” You catch him glancing at you for a second before his gaze leaves you, but is that a hint of… desire you see flickering in his eyes? “The state the demon has put my body in is an unprecedented one… I don’t know what I’ll do to you like this. It would be safer if you put some distance between the two of us… I can already feel it growing worse.”

At his words, you frown in confusion for a moment before realisation descends upon you. So that’s what the demon had meant by arousal of the senses…

“But I can’t just leave you like this,” you begin to protest, anxious, but Kyoujurou waves you off.

“I’ll be fine.” Even though he’s the one in this state, he’s still trying to reassure you. “The blood demon art should wear off when dawn comes, so I need only endure this,” he shudders, body tensing up for a second, “until morning. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Even as Kyoujurou says these words, you can see his body starting to shake almost violently, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see the veins protruding along the side of his neck. It just makes you feel even worse when you remember that he had only gotten into this situation trying to save you, or else your roles would be reversed right now. Sunrise is still hours away. Chewing on your bottom lip, you force yourself to concentrate. Think, think, think! What did the demon say about his condition earlier?

If that man doesn’t lie with someone…

You falter for a moment. By lie, she can’t possibly have meant…

There’s no other meaning for the word lie that can be applied in this context, is there?

You glance worriedly at Kyoujurou, but the man only shakes his head. He must have heard the demon’s words from earlier and already made up his mind, without so much as consulting you, no less. Stupid, selfless, self sacrificing Kyoujurou. When will he learn to put himself before others for a change? Does he have any idea how you’ll feel leaving him to suffer like this until sunrise comes, all while knowing that you could have done something to fix this?

For some reason, that thought only frustrates you to no end, and making up your mind with that, you reach for the top button of your uniform.

Before you can begin undoing your shirt, however, Kyoujurou’s hand grips latches around your wrist, so hard you can almost feel the beginning of bruises forming on your skin. Kyoujurou is always careful whenever it comes to you, so it’s a testament to the extent that the blood demon art has affected him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. When you look up at him questioningly, his brow is furrowed with confusion, lips parted.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You hiss back, but you can feel your own fingers trembling slightly from the nerves. “If you… lie with me, it should relieve the pain brought about by the demon’s blood art. Friends would do this for each other, wouldn’t they?”

Would they, though? The thought just makes you uncomfortable, so you simply shrug it aside. You can think about that after you’ve solved Kyoujurou’s problem. However, Kyoujurou’s answer takes you by surprise.

“I cannot,” Kyoujurou says immediately, voice so firm you’re taken by surprise for a second. Is he perhaps worried about your discomfort? In comparison to the pain he seems to be in now, body wracked with shivers and teeth gritted so hard you can almost hear his jaw creak, it will be nothing.

“I really don’t mind,” you begin to say, but Kyoujurou cuts you off once more.

“No.”

“Kyoujurou, this is not the time to be stubborn,” you try to shrug him off, but the grip he has on your wrist is too tight. Frustrated, you glare up at Kyoujurou. You want to help him, but you can’t do anything if he insists on being like this. “Why do you reject me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you? To the point that you’d prefer to suffer like this?”

The more you shout, the more frustrated you feel, tears starting to escape the corners of your eyes. His rejection does sting, yes, but more than that is the helplessness you feel when you see him in pain, yet are unable to do anything to alleviate it.

“So you’re telling me to just walk away?” You continue to shout, voice breaking. Your throat feels thick. “Well, curse it, Kyoujurou, I can’t just do something like that. I-”

A gentle pressure on your lips cuts your words off, and you look up in surprise through wet lashes to see Kyoujurou’s finger pressed against your mouth to silence you. There’s a conflicted expression on his face, caught between a pained frown and a tender smile.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps quietly, managing a smile to comfort you even through his own pain. “You shouldn’t give your body so easily to me... it should be saved for the person that you want to give your heart to. Didn’t you tell me before that… there’s someone who you hold feelings for?”

You stare at him in shock. Why is he still thinking about something like this even now? And besides…

“I cannot possibly let you do that knowing that you have feelings for someone else,” Kyoujurou continues. He’s struggling to get the words out now, his breaths shallow. “So, there is no need to worry about me, I assure you that I will be fine-”

“What if,” your words come out a whisper, “I told you that someone is you?”

For a moment, nothing but those words hang in the silence between the two of you. Kyoujurou’s eyes are wide with shock, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. You’re determined to convey every bit of genuinity in your heart and make it known - perhaps the demon was in fact a blessing in disguise that created the circumstance to put aside your cowardice and reveal your true feelings to him now.

“I understand if you don’t return my feelings,” you say firmly, before Kyoujurou can say a word. “However, I too, assure you… that doing this with you…” it feels strange, saying it out loud like this, “it wouldn’t be a bad thing… to me at least. So please, let me help you.”

Kyoujurou is still staring at you, but then he lets out a pained groan and crumples over, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Frantic, you race over to help him up, but the second you touch him, you feel a pair of hands grip your waist before the entire night sky above seems to flip over your head. The next thing you know, you’re on your back in the grass, Kyoujurou straddling your hips. You can’t see the expression on his face, his breath ghosting the side of your neck.

You swallow, but raise a hand to rest it on the top of his head comfortingly. “You okay, Kyoujurou?”

“Ahh… this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” Kyoujurou murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you almost yelp when you feel teeth roughly scrape the delicate skin.

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“It should have started with my confession,” your momentary shock is cast aside when you feel a large hand sliding up your side, up your ribs to the collar of your uniform shirt, playing at the top button as if to distract himself. “I would have brought you out to dinner, perhaps some flowers… and yet here we are, doing everything backwards. On the forest floor, no less. It is not the place I would have chosen for our first time together.”

All you can manage is a laugh, something akin to warmth burning in your chest as quiet joy overflows. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind,” you whisper. Taking his hand, you place it firmly against the top of your collar, the brass of your button cool against your joined hands. “So please, Kyoujurou.”

You can feel it, the deep breath he takes before he descends, mouth kissing along the bare skin of your neck while his hand deftly undoes the buttons of your uniform. Before you have time to be nervous, Kyoujurou’s lips are already on the slope of your collarbones, nipping and sucking lightly as you gasp. “Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, and you have to fight back your blush.

As your top slips off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his gaze, you shiver slightly as the cold of the night air leaves goosebumps on your skin. Kyoujurou, ever attentive, notices right away. “Don’t worry,” his fingers trail down your side, before they’re replaced by his lips, hot against your bare skin. The sensation is foreign, a little ticklish even, but strangely welcome, and you have to try not to squirm. “I’ll warm you up in a moment.”

His hands tug at the buckle of your belt even as he continues to map out your body with his mouth, leaving little bruises and marks on you. They sting pleasantly, and with each new one Kyoujurou adds to your skin, you fight back a little moan at the feeling, pressing your legs together to alleviate the strange ache there. Although the night is cool, you feel hot, burning up together with Kyoujurou as he makes good on his promise to warm you up. Perhaps the demon’s blood art is contagious? You wouldn’t mind...

There’s a metallic clink, and the belt around your waist loosens before it slides off you, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Your uniform pants follow soon after, slipped down your legs together with your undergarments, and it’s then you feel cool air brushing against you right there.

Suddenly shy, you press your thighs together, unable to bear the way Kyoujurou’s eyes rake over your body almost hungrily. Still, for all his desire, he remains patient with you, coaxing your legs open carefully with a gentle touch that you can’t help but obey. Fingers skimming up your legs, first from your ankles up to the crook of your knee and finally to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you bite back a whimper the closer his touch comes to where you need it most.

Slowly, almost carefully, Kyoujurou runs the tip of his fingers along your damp folds and you shudder, the seemingly light touch intensifying ten fold and sending little shockwaves of pleasure down your body. It feels strange, but your body chases it of its own accord, pressing against his hand in a silent plea for more.

“Does it feel good?” Kyoujurou whispers, and you nod urgently. Anything to get rid of that aching, sudden emptiness in you.

“Please,” your voice comes out as a whine, and if you weren’t so aroused you would be mortified by how needy you sound. Isn’t it supposed to be Kyoujurou who is affected by the demon’s spell? “Touch me, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm, don’t be impatient,” his thumb rubs circles over you, its glide made effortless by the slick now coating his fingers. The pressure relieves you for a second before an even more intense need crashes hot on its heels, unrelenting. When you whine again, all composure now thrown to the wind, Kyoujurou bites his lip and probes, his finger parting your folds to sink into you slowly. Your gasp catches in your throat, and all you can do is let your head fall back as your walls tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside you.

“More,” you plead, nearly begging him now. One finger isn’t nearly enough, and Kyoujurou proceeds to press another into you even as you squirm on his fingers. A short, bitten off moan escapes you when he starts to move his fingers at a leisurely pace, pumping them in and out of you with an obscene squelching sound. “Kyoujurou, don’t tease.”

“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you,” you tremble under him when he begins to scissor you carefully, making sure to stretch you out so that you’ll be able to take him more easily later. Eager for more but unable to complain, you move your hips towards his hands so that his fingers can press deeper into you, shuddering when his fingers crook against a certain spot. Reaching up, you curl your hands at the nape of his neck and tugging him down towards you so that you can kiss him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, hot and wet, as his fingers still continue to move in you. Arching your back in an attempt to draw closer to him, you suck on his tongue lightly and Kyoujurou lets out a groan, a rumble from deep within his chest.

“Ready, ready,” you break the kiss to tell him, helplessly fucking yourself on his fingers. Pleasure sets every nerve ending alight, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. “Please, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes gleam, but you too, can see how badly he needs it. He’s trembling, almost feverishly now, but still he manages a smile as he looks down at you. “Always so impatient with me,” he dips down to plunder your mouth once more, rough and forceful this time, curling his fingers in you and causing you to pant into his mouth. This draws a slight laugh out of him. His fingers slip out of you, and you let out a long, keening whine in complaint.

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes your thigh and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you wanting.”

Even through the feeling of Kyoujurou’s body on yours and his lips of your skin, you faintly hear the clink of a belt being undone. A moan of anticipation leaves you, and you can’t help but part your legs in response. You need more, more to alleviate the burning ache in you that just doesn’t seem to abate.

Something presses against your entrance, hard and heavy, and your hips press against it involuntarily, demanding more. To your confusion, Kyoujurou doesn’t enter you immediately, instead taking a moment to run his length up and down your folds, and you let out a pathetic little moan when he denies you. Kyoujurou laughs, but it’s rougher, lower this time.

“Impatient,” he repeats, leaning over you. You look up at him pleadingly, sure that tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how badly you need it, but Kyoujurou leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me you want it.”

You gape at him, words leaving you for a second at his sudden demand. “Wha-”

“I need to know that you want this as much as I do.” Kyoujurou’s hands trace the spot over your heart, littered with bruises that will probably turn into dark red blooms tomorrow morning. “Tell me with your own words and your mouth that you want this.”

“I-” You flush, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment. The words feel almost shameful on your tongue, but you remind yourself that this is Kyoujurou. “I…” Your voice comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyoujurou. I really do.”

Kyoujurou smiles in response, kissing you gently. His hands slide down to your knees, parting your legs and coaxing them to wrap around his waist, which you obey immediately. That’s when you feel him begin to press into you, parting your folds and slowly sinking into you. At first, the stretch is still bearable, but the further he slides into you, you can’t help but let out a little cry as you stretch more to accommodate his length.

“Too much?” Kyoujurou presses kisses to your hair, the crown of your head. You shake your head determinedly, tightening the hold your legs have around his waist.

“N-no, keep going,” you say, clinging to his form. Kyoujurou looks over you with concern in his eyes, before he nips comfortingly on your lower lip.

“You can bite down on me if you want,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

With those words, he begins moving again, and you fight back another sob as he stretches you open further. Unable to stand the pain, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his shoulder. True to his word, Kyoujurou doesn’t even flinch when your teeth break his skin. Instead, he only rubs soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh in a silent bid to comfort.

You’re no stranger to pain, and you’ve trained in many ways to dull it in your years as a demon slayer. Taking a deep breath, you focus your mind and instruct your body to relax, allowing Kyoujurou to slip deeper into you. After a few moments, the pain begins to abate, and you carefully regulate your breathing before you grip his hand tight.

He glances down at you and you nod wordlessly. With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Kyoujurou begins to move once more, and although the ache still lingers, it has already started to dull, replaced by that feeling of fullness that you had experienced earlier with Kyoujurou’s fingers in you, only this time magnified a hundredfold.

When he finally sinks in you all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment to adjust to the near overwhelming feeling of being filled so completely, busying yourself with sucking marks into Kyoujurou’s neck like he’d done for you earlier. Kyoujurou groans lowly in his throat, murmuring words of encouragement with each mark you leave on his skin - he seems pleased about it. When your teeth latch on to the lobe of his ear, Kyoujurou begins pulling out of you, much to your despair, but before you can whine about it once more, Kyoujurou slams back into you with a smooth, forceful thrust, and your words turn into nothing more than a choked gasp trapped in your throat.

After that, he doesn’t give you a second to breathe, hips pistoning in you with fervour, and all you can do is lie back and take it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Kyoujurou runs his mouth over your shoulder, your forehead, your collarbone. Faintly, you feel Kyoujurou’s hand work its way between your bodies, coming to a stop at where your bodies are joined. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his fingers slip down to worry your clit roughly and you let out a cry, nails digging into the skin at his back and arms as you cling to him. Kyoujurou hums, a pleased, satisfied sound and only redoubles his efforts, causing your body to tremble with sensation.

The pleasure builds up in you, almost overwhelming, a wave of pleasure surging straight for you. Before you can warn Kyoujurou, it crashes over you and a high pitched sob works its way out of your throat, your body trying to curl up on itself as if that will alleviate the intensity that’s overtaking your body. Above you, you distantly register Kyoujurou’s low groan as his thrusts lose their rhythm before he pulls out of you completely, something warm splattering on your thigh.

Too tired to form words, you simply hold out your arms and Kyoujurou instantly moves into them, tugging you into his hold so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Already, you can feel the beginnings of an ache in your legs and arms, and from what the older demon slayers have told you before, your… abdomen would probably feel the same way as well tomorrow. Still, you think, looking up at Kyoujurou’s flushed but content face, you think that this was completely worth it.

A gentle kiss to your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Kyoujurou with a slight smile on his face as he gazes down at you. “Are you feeling alright? I might have been a bit too rough there.” His fingertips trace your bare shoulders, the love bites at your neck, and finally your lips. You shake your head, content to go limp against him as he cradles you carefully.

“No, I’m fine.” Glancing up at him, you wonder if the flush on his cheeks is from the earlier exertion or if he’s still affected by the demon’s spell. You try to raise a hand, but overestimate your strength - your hand falls back to your lap before it can even reach halfway to his forehead. Still, Kyoujurou only picks up your own hand with his and presses it to his forehead for you, and you’re relieved to find out that although his body temperature is running warm, it’s nothing like the unnatural heat that had been burning him up from before. “It’s good that you’re alright now.”

“[name]...” The solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice takes you by surprise. When you glance at him, you see him looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow, hesitation flickering in his golden eyes. “The words you spoke earlier, about the person that you had feelings for being me… was that the truth?”

You blink at him, slightly confused. Had you not been genuine enough with your feelings earlier? Determined to put this doubt to rest, you grab him by the cheeks with a strength that you certainly didn’t have earlier, pulling him close so that your foreheads are pressed against each other’s and you can feel his breath dancing over your skin.

“You, yes you.” You repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips, which helplessly turn up in a smile under your affections. You can’t help the smile on your face that mirrors his own, his happiness palpable and all too contagious. “I can’t believe that it took a situation like this for me to confess. You better make it up to me, you hear me?”

Kyoujurou laughs, nuzzling your neck. “Okay, okay. The sequence is out of order now but,” he smiles at you, “how about I bring you out to dinner? My treat, of course.”

You have to press your face against his shoulder to hide your smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 09: Somnophilia (A Witches’ Brew)

Day 09: Somnophilia Title: A Witches’ Brew Pairing: Witch Shindou x F!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, mind control, manipulation, drugging via potion, quirk use, Stockholm-ish, yandere Note: I stayed up late to finish this and now I am very tired. Hope you guys like 😂

Kinktober Masterlist

The first thing you hear when you open the door to the shop is the ding of the bell hanging above the entrance. You glance around and see an absolutely enormous amount of magic supplies, some you know the purpose of and some you don’t. Along one wall are floor to ceiling bookshelves, and there’s also a wall of magic potions and artifacts.

As you’re looking around, you hear the voice of what you assume to be the owner call out to you. He’s tall, with a muscular build and dark black hair and a smile that could light up a room.

“Hello, welcome to my shop! Can I help you find anything?”

“Hi, yes, I - “ You can’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, too embarrassed by what you’re after to even be able to say it.

“It’s okay,” the man smiles at you, and it's so warm that you can’t help but return it. “There’s no judgment here, I promise.”

“Well in that case,” you say hesitantly, “I’m here for a love potion.”

“Oh, I can definitely help you with that.” He motions for you to follow him to the back of the store. “My name is Shindou, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Shindou.” You tell him your name before explaining why you’re here. “The love potion - it’s not how you’re thinking,” you say quickly. “I don’t want to force someone. Just make it a bit easier, maybe?”

He laughs gently as he glances back at you. “I told you, no judgement from me.”

Finally you reach a door that he unlocks and opens for you to walk through. In this room is a large cauldron and a worktable full of various magic components. “Feel free to sit down, and we can talk about what you’re looking for.”

You choose a chair a respectful distance away from the worktable, but one where you can still see everything going on. Magic has always fascinated you, and you don’t want to miss the chance to watch it in action.

“Well, I’ve been having such bad luck lately. All of the guys I’ve tried to go out with have canceled, or dropped out of my life entirely. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Your voice takes on a slight tremble at the last sentence, the constant rejection finally getting to you.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Shindou scoffs. “If someone doesn’t want you, then they’re idiots.”

“You really think so?” You give him a shy smile.

“Of course I think so.” He turns away from you as he picks out various vials and strange looking ingredients, laying them out in front of him. “You said you only wanted something to help you out a bit?”

“Yes, exactly! I don’t want to alter anyone’s mind or anything.”

His smile has a hint of a smirk, eyes darkening just enough that you can notice. But it vanishes in the next second, leaving you to wonder if you only imagined it. “You’re so good hearted.”

He takes a mortar and pestle, grinding something into a fine paste that he puts in a bowl. He also grabs a red liquid and a green liquid, measuring them out before adding them to the potion he’s creating.

“I’ll need a hair of yours,” he reaches out to you before pulling his hand back. “Assuming you don’t mind, of course.”

“No, go ahead, I don’t mind.”

His finger traces a line down your jaw, causing you to shiver a bit at his touch. He smiles at your reaction before grabbing a piece of hair around your face and pulling it out. It’s just a few small strands of hair, and you watch as he puts them into the bowl and stirs them up.

“Why do you need my hair?” You can’t help but ask. “I don’t mean any offense, just curious.”

“Oh, since you’re wanting a more general love spell, I’m adding yours so that you’re the focus of the spell.”

You give a quick nod at his explanation. You know nothing about magic, and his reasoning makes sense. The reason you went to Shindou above a handful of other witches was because he came highly recommended by everyone you talked to.

The smell of the potion quickly fills the room, almost overpoweringly strong. It doesn’t smell bad, but it quickly gives you a bit of a headache, causing you to stand up and walk just a short distance away in an attempt to find a bit of fresh air. You see his hands move quickly through finishing the potion, mixing it up thoroughly before handing a small vial to you.

“Thank you so much,” you whisper as you clutch the potion to your chest. “How much do I owe you?”

“We can discuss payment in a second,” he stares at you with a look of deep intensity. “Why don’t you drink the potion first?”

“Why, is there something that could go wrong?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you. But potions can have different effects for different people to begin with, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He steps a few paces closer, rubbing down your arm with one hand. “Please humor me?”

You laugh as you uncork the potion bottle. “How can I say no to that?” You throw back the vial, throat working as you drink the whole thing in one rush. It tastes much better than you would have thought, but once you finish the bottle, you feel yourself sway on your own feet as dizziness overtakes you.

The bottle slips through your fingers before shattering on the hard floor below, and your knees buckle. Shindou wraps an arm around you before lifting you gently, gazing down at you with a look you can’t place.

But you think it looks like victory.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Shindou chuckles to himself as he carries you to his bedroom using a secret doorway that only he can see.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to come into my shop, sweetheart?” Shindou muses at your unconscious form. He lays you gently on his bed, trailing his hands down your body as he begins to undress you. “I was getting so impatient watching you look at everyone but me.”

He unbuttons your shirt and bra before throwing them over his shoulder, and then slips down your pants to reveal your lacy pink panties.  “They would have only hurt you. I did you a favor, sweetheart.” He trails a finger up your clothed slit, causing your body to jerk a bit. “They won’t treat you well as I will.”

He activates his quirk slightly, fingers vibrating against the sensitive skin of your clit through your panties and drawing a deep moan from your throat. “See how responsive you are? Your body already knows you belong to me.”

He wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep kiss. He massages your tongue with his own, easily dominating your mouth with no resistance. His hand cups your breast, tracing feather light touches along your nipple and causing it to harden.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he moves down to your neck, sucking hard at your pulse point and leaving a trail of bruises wherever he kisses. “And I know you can hear all of this.”

As a response, your body trembles a bit in his grasp, and his chuckle is dark and amused. “The potion is doing its job. You're going to be able to feel everything I do to you.”

“This needy little body of yours is going to crave me.” He moves your panties to the side as his finger dips below, grinning as he feels how wet you are for him already. “Or maybe it already does.”

Two fingers slip into your heat as he kneels down, placing small kitten licks along your entrance. You let out a soft whine as you buck your hips up towards his mouth. “Since you can hear all of this, I’m going to explain what this potion will do to you.”

He curls his fingers up as he searches around on your inner walls, smirking when he finds a spot that causes you to clench around him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I could help you with a love potion,” he says conversationally, as if he wasn’t indulging freely in your body. “I just added a lock of my own hair when you weren’t looking.”

He lashes his tongue along your slit, licking up the wetness that has begun to leak out of you and nudging your clit with his nose. “The potion will make sure that you fall madly, obsessively in love with me, and only me. As it should be.”

And at that, he begins to slam his fingers against the spot he found, causing you to moan and clamp down around his fingers. Your hips buck back with his thrusts, and he knows you’re close already. You’re overly sensitive from the spell he laced into the potion, and when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you cum hard on his tongue, liquid gushing out of you that he laps up eagerly.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching to get away, body overstimulated and throbbing. Finally, he pulls away as he unzips his pants, removing them quickly and guiding his thick length towards your still fluttering pussy.

He snaps his hips in one quick movement, burying himself in your pussy instantly. “Fuck, you’re so damned tight,” he grunts as he begins to move. “You’re squeezing my cock so much that it's hard to move.”

His eyes light up for a brief second as he withdraws from you completely, glancing down at his cock and confirming what he’s thinking. There’s a slight amount of blood on the tip of his cock, and the sight makes him throb as he realizes he was the one to take your virginity.

He enters you again, but this time he makes short shallow thrusts as he tries to loosen your walls up a bit. The entire time, he strokes your clit with two fingers, activating his quirk and causing your head to fall back in pleasure as the vibrations run through you.

Finally he can move a bit easier, and his thrusts become savage, hard enough that your breasts bounce with every movement. You let out a broken moan as you near another orgasm, tears running down your eyes nd drool running out the side of your mouth. He grunts when your walls begin to flutter around his cock, balls tightening up towards his body as he reaches his own orgasm.

Your tight pussy milks his cock for every drop of cum in his aching balls, and he makes sure that he doesn’t pull out until he’s completely empty. He looks down at your fucked out form, cum oozing out of your pussy, neck covered in bruises and hickies. He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful.

He gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, using it to clean your body before he puts you in a pair of pajamas that he bought for you.  After he’s done taking care of you, he goes to the bathroom and cleans himself up before climbing back into bed with you, pulling you tightly into his chest.

He holds you there, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally wake up, eyes fluttering open to see his face smiling down at you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Shindou murmurs as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Your face twists briefly into a mask of confusion, glancing around the room and at Shindou as if you’re trying to figure something out. “You - you gave me a potion, right? Brought me here and - “

You blush as you refuse to meet Shindou’s eyes, and you feel the deep rumble of his laughter against you. “Yes, I did. Is there a problem with that, sweetheart?” He pushes just a bit, wanting to make sure that the potion is in full effect. “I only did it because I love you so much.”

The look of concern and alarm falls from your face instantly as you smile back, rolling over to burrow your face into his chest. “Of course not. I love you too, Shindou.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @leeswritingworld​, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @fae-father​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @cissiewrites​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @emplosion22​​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, @armoredashley​​, @f4nficbaby​​, @tenkoshimmy​​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​​

[pink-flame]

“it’s dark outside, and it’s raining. my arms are much safer.”

&

“dance with me”

😌 ty & goodbye

I hope you love it. 💜

“I really have to go,” Julie insisted, huffing through the phrase as she struggled to breathe when Luke’s arms tightened petulantly around her.

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” He pouted, the circle of his arms not loosening at all despite her best efforts to pry them from around her waist.

“I would if I thought you had actually heard it,” Julie said with a sigh, her body falling slack against his on the couch as exhaustion momentarily overrode her determination to escape.

“Alex says I have selective hearing,” Luke said earning an eye roll but also a smile from Julie that she was glad he couldn’t see in their current position.

“Alex is right,” Julie replied, pushing back a curl that had fallen over her face during her struggle. “Like usual.”

“Yeah, so it’s a medical condition,” Luke explained as though what he was saying made perfect sense. “You can’t hold that against me.”

Julie groaned but it was only a second or two before a burst of disbelieving laughter escaped her.

How could he manage to be so predictable and yet so constantly baffling at the same time?

“My dad is expecting me,” She tried again, choosing not to dignify his medical condition comment with a response. “And your parents will be home soon.”

Luke shifted his position on the couch until he was hovering half over her, allowing her to see his playful expression and observe the way his eyes dropped to her lips before he spoke again.

That wasn’t helping.

Not that she minded really.

“Your dad can wait,” Luke said as though he hadn’t just been quizzing Julie on ways to get her dad to like him a few days ago. “And we’ve still got a bit until my parents show up.”

“My dad can wait is not a convincing argument,” Julie pointed out, avoiding Luke’s very distracting eyes as much as possible.

“Ok, how about this,” He said, that lazy smile she loved so much finding a home on his face. “It’s dark outside and it’s raining. My arms are much safer.”

Julie giggled at that and his look of fake offense only set her off more.

“What, so you’re saying this is a ‘Baby, it’s cold outside’ scenario? That song is kind of creepy.”

“Actually some people think in context or whatever that it’s empowering,” Luke observed.

“In context or whatever?” Julie teased, one eyebrow rising as she considered her boyfriend.

“I read an article.”

“You read an article.”

“I still think it’s kind of creepy,” Julie laughed, shoving at his shoulders. “Now let me up, seriously.”

“Ok, ok, on one condition,” He agreed, pushing himself up and onto the other end of the couch, allowing Julie to sit up as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“What’s the condition?” Julie asked, the fact that she was almost obnoxiously into the boy sitting across from her keeping her tone from sounding as wary as she had intended.

Luke tapped the screen on his phone for a few seconds until the sound of music flooded the space.

Truly, Madly, Deeply by Savage Garden. They had both been on a 90s kick lately and that included cheesy but emotionally resonate ballads apparently.

He placed his phone on the edge of the couch and jumped to his feet.

“Dance with me,” He said, holding his hand out to Julie who placed her own there without conscious thought.

She let him tug her to his feet and against his swaying body, their forms finding the perfect rhythm almost instantly, music, as always, feeling almost as familiar as each other’s touch.

Ok.

Maybe her dad could wait just a little longer.