#or is he awake now and also Pretending

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[h1biscusgal]

The hypnagogic state : how to reach it.

The hypnagogic state is a state where we naturally go into before sleeping, a sweet spot moment before sleeping and still being awake, a state where it is so powerful to be able to shift, get in the void, or basically do anything.

Now it requires NOTHING, it only requires one small thing that might sound tricky.

Staying awake long enough for it to come by on it's own, and actually on average it takes 10-5 mins from each person to enter it aware.

The steps:

Lay flat on your back (not needed, but many results come from laying on the back)

Do. Not. Care, just go with what you usually do to fall asleep, but one thing? You're not falling asleep, you're watching your body fall asleep, that sweet spot where your body is about to fall asleep? That's hypnagogia

Actually don't move, it may give your mind signs you're still not sleeping, now just lay there and try not to sleep while focusing on the blackness behind your eyelids.

You will start seeing flashing images or swirly things or even just flashing lights and imagery, this is the hypnagogia and you managed to reach it in just 10 mins of pretending to be asleep (acc it takes me 4)

Bam, that's the sweet spot, now affirm slowly for the void, or just sense your surroundings for shifting or maybe you can try your shifting method here! This state cannot argue back, you'll be immediately shifting in no time, and slipping in the void is so easy from it.

So really the whole steps is just "lay down, don't move, watch your eyelids, color seen? Hypnagogia reached, method or void procedure done, bam."

I managed to find a post on Reddit on how to keep your body awake, you can try 2 or 3 of them to keep yourself entertained, FULL CREDITS TO THE ONE WHO POSTED IT ON REDDIT (calaie_iscoolio):

"1. Looking in the darkness behind your eyelids

Basically what it says, when you close your eyes, just focus on the darkness until hypnagogic imagery begins to happen i.e. colors, shapes, literally anything that will show. When images begin to show up, do not interact or acknowledge what you are seeing, you can look at it, but don't try to control it and just let the images flow until you feel that the state is induced enough to where it won't disappear because you are "too" awake/aware.

2. "Forearm Up" Method

Another technique that basically helps with people who tend to fall asleep to quickly, basically lay down on your back like usual, lift your hand up in the air where your elbow is resting on your mattress, keep it there and as it slowly falls down that's where you'll begin to fall asleep, it'll drop and basically awake you back up.

I had also seen a shifter mention that they prefer to lay on their stomach and lifting their foot up in the air and basically do the same thing. This technique basically just wakes you back up.

3. Thomas Edison Method

Very similar to the "Forearm Up" Method, basically what Edison had done was he had held a steel ball in his hand, and when he began to fall asleep, the ball will drop and alert Edison awake, another technique to help with people to struggle to stay awake.

4. Imagine Constant Motion

Basically imagining something whether that be an animal or an object constantly moving like a horse galloping, a dogs tail wagging side to side, etc. (Pretty simple, for people who find it much easier to visualize).

5. Tire your body through out the day

During the day, you could do any tasks that would just tire your body out that leads up to your attempt to induce the state, it'll make it much easier for you to get into the state and induce it since your body is already tired enough to relax.

6. Repeating "hypnagogia"

This will mean you have you just repeat the words "hypnagogia" to yourself till you get tired enough and then hypnagogic imagery will eventually appear.

7. Counting

Basically just like regular shifting methods, you could focus on counting up to how much you want to until you begin to get the hypnagogic hallucinations, to keep yourself from falling asleep you could give yourself simple math questions just so it's enough to focus to answer it.

8. Imagining Randomness

Imagine literally anything that isn't related at all, i.e. horse, roof, apple, pen, desk, etc. Visualize and filter through random objects or animals that have no correlation and that will induce the hypnagogic imagery, randomness is key.

9. Focus on breathing

Similar to any shifting method, basically focusing on your breaths is another technique to induce the state. Literally just anything to keep your awareness occupied rather than letting your mind just shut down to go to sleep.

10. Sounds

Listening to anything in your environment, whether that be things happening outside, if it's raining listen to the rain, or if you've got headphones on listen to the music and focus that, keep your focus on the music so you don't fall asleep.

11. "Playing" a song in your head

Not necessarily listening to the song, but imagining the song playing in your head, whether that be your favorite song, if you know how it sounds like, imagine it playing and once you've entered the state, it will naturally play and you'll end up actually hearing the song.

12. Heartbeat

Basically just focus on your heartbeat. Listen to the amount of beats.

These are all the various of techniques you could use, you don't have to stick to one and can basicaally try them out, see which one you feel like works for you and go from there. A tip is also you could pick like 4 or 5 out of these 12 and just filter through the techniques if you can't just stick to one since you get uninterested quickly. (I get bored easily, do I normally do 8, 9, 7 and 4 just so I don't lose interest.)"

Good luck y'all!

[fairsweetlonging]

i love writing about shen qingqiu flirting with people but not knowing he does it, and never realizing what effect it has on people or when they flirt back

for instance, he doesn't quite have a grasp on the usage of flowery, poetic speech yet, so he uses it in ways that are more suggestive than he means to. he compliments liu qingge's fighting style but the words he uses are "dancing like a snow lotus in the high mountain gales" and liu qingge turns so red shen qingqiu thinks he has a fever. he also said to wei qingwei that if only he was better a guqing player he would capture the sound of his laughter (wei qingwei has a boisterous laugh and this was meant to be teasing) and wei qingwei lay awake for three nights thinking about that.

he'd try to banter with yue qingyuan in the sort of taunting style of the original sqq, but in doing so accidentally strays into "shixiong should just bring his pillow and move in with how much he visits" "well if shidi insists" territory, and he doesn't realize it.

he pretends to be jealous when liu qingge goes on a mission with someone else, saying things like "shidi is having so much fun with [other peak lord], am i not enough? has my heart been traded for another?" with a fake pout that's supposed to be playful, but that inadvertently causes liu qingge to only accept missions with him or by himself, and of course shen qingqiu keeps digging this hole deeper by then acting flattered when liu qingge invites only him to the hunt.

he also definitely goes a little shakespearean sometimes to be dramatic, but people take that serious too. one time shang qinghua was too busy to read/write with him, so he complained to whoever listened, "the cruelty of his words have ripped my heart asunder, never again will i feel joy from what has now turned to sorrow", and two days later shang qinghua asks him what the hell he said to make half of the peak lords show up angry at his house like scorned lovers

in my mind he has also made a "chain me to the bed to have your way" kind of comment about his without a cure treatment, because mu qingfang added twenty new concoctions to the list that are yucky and shen yuan doesn't like yucky things, but even he was like "hm" about that and their next appointment was a little awkward.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

won't you spare me another year ?

synopsis : you want to be the first person to wish your katsuki a happy birthday every year <3

an. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BOYFRIEND!!

cw. nothing, pure fluff!!! also fem reader!

"5..4...3...2...1...aaaand—happy birthday, katsuki !!"

katsuki groans sleepily as your arms tighten around him. "you're fucking insane. it's midnight."

"it's your birthday !" you defend quietly, pouting up at him. he looks down at you and chuckles.

"ya could've just let me sleep and told me that shit in the morning, would've still been m'birthday." he yawns, wiping his eyes. you shoot up to press a kiss to his cheek, leaning into his space more to kiss him all over while he pretends to try and push you off when you roll on top of him. you both ignore how he immediately goes to squeezing your hips when you settle on top.

"i could've, but then there would've been a chance i slept in too long and then i wouldn't have been the first one to wish you happy birthday."

"so my birthday's a competition now ?"

"yup. and i plan to be first every year." you giggle, he rolls his eyes but can't hide the smile growing on his face.

"clingy brat.." he mumbles, he kisses you back anyways when your lips reach his.

"you love me." you counter.

"mm, whatever." he waves off, grabbing the back of your head to bring your lips back to his. you squeal as he tries to deepen the kiss. "you're being greedy." you warn, lips smushed against his.

"s'my birthday, means i get what i wan’, right ? and since you're gonna keep me awake, could at the very least gimme a proper damn kiss." he says between kisses, it makes you laugh against his mouth and he smiles. when you pull away, you lean in to press a long, lasting kiss on the scar right below his eye. you can feel the way the muscles in his face drop and his arms tighten around you in surprise.

"happy birthday, katsuki. i'm glad i can spend another year with you." you whisper earnestly, looking down at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars for you. unfortunately, it seems that was too much sincerity for your poor boyfriend. he squints, his massive palms enveloping your face to squeeze your cheeks.

"y-yeah, yeah. quit bein' sappy..." he huffs. you feel his thumb run against your bottom lip when he glances up at you, ears tinted pink as he quietly whispers out a "thanks...".

you don't need to say anymore, smiling as you lay on his chest. you hum "what do you wanna do for your birthday ?"

"stay in and fuckin' sleep." is his simple response, you can't help but snort.

"and nothing else ?" you look up at him.

he looks down at you "sounds like you got something you're hiding from me." he asks, suspiciously raising a brow.

you scoff, looking away "pffff, me ? no way..."you lie, your voice going airy.

you’re being grabbed by your cheeks in an instant and katsuki’s not deterred by your whining "you're a shit liar."

"i plead the fifth."

"plead my ass." katsuki scoffs, squishing your cheeks in his palm. "i hate being out of the loop on shit, you know that."

"would it kill you to not be a killjoy ? where's your whimsy ? your child's soul ?" you whine.

"whatever the fuck that means." katsuki snarks. you laugh again, and he rolls his eyes. "as long as whatever you got planned doesn't take up my whole damn day, then do what you want."

now it's your turn to roll your eyes "no need to worry, i won't be interfering with your plans to sleep in."

"our plans. you're not going anywhere." your boyfriend corrects.

"i have no say in it, do i ?" you tease.

he pokes your cheek. "nope. s'my birthday." he responds simply.

you laugh "you're using that as some sort of cheat code now ?"

when your laughter dies down he's still looking down at you. eyes, droopy with sleep sure, but with something soft inside of them. they glow illuminated by the light of the moon outside.

"what ?"

"nuffin." he sighs, still just looking down at you. his fingers run across your face, your cheeks and eyebrows and nose so softly, so unlike him (he of course has to take the opportunity to squeeze your nose, but you decide not to ruin the moment).

"yeah, right. c'mon what is it?" you urge. katsuki scoffs "so damn persistent." he reprimands. he shushes you when you remind him that "that's why you like me so much!"

"m'just..thinkin'."

"about..?" you wiggle higher up until you can kiss his chin. he sighs again , smiling to himself.

"about...this really annoying girl."

you glare up at him, he smirks. "oh yeah ?" you deadpan.

"oh, yeah. a real pain in the ass. always talkin' back to me and bothering me. planning surprises and other stupid things for my birthday every year. " he taunts.

you roll your eyes again "she sounds like a fun time. sounds to me like you just don't know how to have any fun." you grouch. katsuki laughs, of course he does, dickhead.

"yeah, well. as annoying as she is...she is a pretty damn fun time." he admits softly "real damn sweet too...probably too sweet for me.."

you look up at him in surprise. he squeezes your nose to avoid you and you swipe at his hand. he continues talking while you're distracted. "but i'm glad she chose to be with an asshole like me, and..." he leans down to press a peck between your brows.

"..and there's nothing else i'd like more for my birthday then to spend it with her again next year. even if we do lame, boring shit like staying in or doing whatever."

you feel your heart squeeze almost painfully tight. your cheeks pull up so hard you feel your jaw hurt, but you're so unbearably happy.

so unbearably happy you get to spend another year of his life with him.

you lean in to kiss him. "well, i don't know about her surprises, but mine's gonna blow your socks off. s'gonna make you cry like you did last year."

he scoffs, planting another kiss to your lips. "i didn't cry, dickwad. that's your mind making shit up." he denies.

"yeah, okay" you laugh, and with one final kiss you pull back to look at your love, with all the love you had for him. "happy birthday, katsuki."

and he smiles back, softly, and only reserved for moments like this with you.

yeah, it sure was. happy fuckin' birthday to him.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired College AU

AKA "Danny Fenton and Tim Drake go to college at Gotham-U together" headcanon!!

Maybe Danny moved to Gotham to avoid his parents finding out about Phantom and Tim is a part-time college student trying to get his business degree so people stop accusing Bruce Wayne of nepotism after Tim inherited WE. (It absolutely still is, but at least this way Tim is at least somewhat more qualified on paper.)

Anyways, they both took Anthropology as their humanities/pre-requisite elective and they're discussing death rituals, afterlife, etc. Now imagine Danny, officially Half-Dead, and Tim, who's brothers (Jason and Damian) literally died, getting into a heated discussion about spirits.

I also find the idea of them arguing via fucking Canvas (or whatever discussion forum/platform Gotham-U uses) so, so funny.

Imagine it's like 3am;

Danny, insomniac, been awake for 42 hours and popping melatonin gummies like gummy bears, furiously typing: i'm literally THE KING of infinite realms?? i know what i'm talking about, i fucking died

Tim, also been awake for 42 hours, chugging an energy drink, sending a response in 0.2 seconds: Half of Gotham has died at some point. You're not special, dumbass.

Give me "group of scientists losing their minds and climbing over the table to assault one another during scientific conference" vibes!!

And then they get paired up to do a group presentation (and Brad, who they ignore because they're both Experts, so this poor frat dude just slowly sinks into his chair between two sleep-deprived maniacs screaming at each other in the library). But Tim notices something weird about Danny, aside from his insane views on afterlife. Danny... glows? And sometimes doesn't really touch the floor when he walks. They're going to get coffee (so they can keep arguing debating, obviously, not because they enjoy each other's company or anything), and Tim watches as Danny just kind of... floats. Like, he's still walking but he's not really touching the ground.

Danny's hands are also super cold. Tim knows this because he grabbed Danny's hands once or twice (or more) to do... something, idk. But since his hands were so cold, Tim figured he should probably keep holding them; y'know, to warm them up.

And when Tim leans in to ask a question or insult him, Danny's breath comes out almost like a mist. Visibly white, like exhaling a hot breath in winter. Which... what. Holy shit, is his presentation partner actually sort of dead??

Danny, on the other hand, has no idea that Tim doesn't know. He literally said he died? And Tim took it so well, snarked back that he's not special - it was so nice to just feel normal. So he lets his guard down a bit. Maybe isn't as tangible, maybe is a bit more floaty, lets his body temperature drop enough to be comfortable. Doesn't put a whole lot of effort into making himself look so alive (because it's really tiring to pretend to be something you're not) when it's just him and Tim because Tim already knows, right?

They could be friends or they could be more! Whatever floats your boat.

But I could totally see Danny squinting at Tim holding his hand, remembering how Tim bought his favorite coffee, saved him a spot a the library, constantly texted him (because, c'mon, Tim is a bit obsessive and you don't think he'd be texting his new "friend ;)" every minute he has the chance?), and always leaned in super close to "ask a question"...and be like, are we flirting?? Oh, Hells, am I into him??

For plot reasons, Danny could be like, "I can't tell Tim I like him! What if I ruin our friendship? It'll be my secret."

And then, one day, Tim is like, "Hey, I know you're keeping something from me. I think I know what it is." And Danny's like ohshitohfuck. This cumulates into them saying, at the same time, I know you're a ghost and I have a crush on you.

Tim and Danny: *shocked Pikachu face*

Then, Danny's like, "I can't believe I have a crush on a fucking idiot."

[chrrybbmb]

NO ONE ELSE

STARRING ... BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER!M. YOONGI X READER

WORD COUNT ... 10.4K

SUMMARY ... yoongi doesn’t know what you want from him, but he knows he wants you.

NOTES/WARNINGS ... slight angst. smut (18+/MDNI). i needed these two to fuck so bad. making them official because they mean the world to me <33 taehyung flirting with reader. jealous!yoongi. basically-lovers-but-not-really to lovers. fingering, p in v sex, protected sex. if i forgot anything let me know.

playlist : still into you (paramore), snooze (sza), kiss me (sixpence none the richer), so american (olivia rodrigo), pink + white (frank ocean), still the one (shania twain), runaway (the corrs), kiss from a rose (seal), are you bored yet? (wallows), here with me (d4vd)

you wake up to the sound of yoongi’s alarm vibrating against the nightstand.

it’s early. too early. the sky outside is still a soft shade of orange, and the only reason you’re even awake is because yoongi, in his infinite wisdom, forgot to turn off his alarm before rolling out of bed to use the bathroom.

and now it’s going off, loud and persistent.

with a groan, you shove your face deeper into his pillow, blindly reaching out to slap at his phone until it stops.

silence. finally.

except, now you’re awake. and now you’re aware. of the lingering warmth beside you, the faint scent of his shampoo clinging to the pillowcase, the way his blanket is still wrapped around you, heavy and comforting.

yoongi’s bed is dangerously comfortable.

it always has been, which is probably why you keep ending up here, despite all the logical reasons why you shouldn’t.

there’s an unspoken understanding between you. whatever this is, whatever you’ve let it become, doesn’t get talked about. doesn’t get labeled. doesn’t change anything outside the walls of his room.

the bathroom door creaks open, and you barely lift your head as yoongi walks back in, hair a mess, hoodie slung loosely over his shoulders, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"your alarm is annoying," you mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

"your face is annoying," he mutters back, dropping onto the bed with zero grace, exhaling sharply when his head hits the pillow beside yours. for a second, neither of you move.

then, yoongi shifts, turning onto his side, gaze flicking over your face like he’s searching for something. he must find it, because his lips twitch, just slightly.

"go back to sleep," he murmurs, tugging the blanket higher over your shoulders.

it should be weird. it should be so weird. but it’s not, so you do.

next time you wake up, yoongi’s side of the bed is cold and empty, and his bedroom door is open.

the house is quiet, save for the faint sound of the tv murmuring from the living room. you stretch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, before finally dragging yourself out of bed, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders as you shuffle out into the hall.

yoongi’s mom is in the kitchen, flipping through a newspaper with a cup of tea in hand. she looks up when she hears you, barely fazed by the fact that you just crawled out of her son’s bedroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world because, at this point, it is.

“morning, sweetheart,” she hums, setting her mug down.

you blink, still half-asleep. “morning.”

her lips twitch slightly, and then she gives you the look.

the same knowing glance she’s been giving you for months now, the one that says you’re not as sneaky as you think you are but also i’ll let you keep pretending anyway.

heat creeps up the back of your neck, but you don’t acknowledge it, just tug the blanket tighter around yourself and step toward the fridge.

“yoongi up?” you ask, peering inside.

“mm,” she hums. “went out a while ago. said something about needing a new lighter.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing a carton of juice. of course. because god forbid he go a full twenty-four hours without replacing one of the dozen lighters he somehow loses in his own room.

you pour yourself a glass, avoiding his mom’s eyes, but you can feel her looking. assessing. thinking about whether or not she should say whatever’s sitting on the tip of her tongue.

and then, “just make sure you're using protection.”

you nearly choke on your juice. “what?”

she shrugs, oh-so-casual, turning a page in her newspaper. “just making sure.”

you gape at her. yoongi’s mom, the same woman who once scolded you and his sister for sneaking out at sixteen, now just casually suggesting that you and yoongi have been fucking each other in his room—which you've thought about, but in any which case is hardly any of her business.

before you can even think of a response, the front door swings open.

yoongi steps inside, looking obnoxiously unbothered, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a new lighter tucked between his fingers. he glances between you and his mom, brows furrowing slightly at your expression.

“what’s with you?”

you shake your head, gulping down the rest of your juice before setting the glass in the sink. “nothing.”

he narrows his eyes, clearly not believing you, but doesn’t push it. just tosses his lighter onto the counter and leans against it, watching as you continue standing there, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, looking way too much like you belong here.

his mom, still smirking, picks up her tea again. “you kids hungry?”

yoongi shrugs. “i could eat.”

you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. “yeah. me too.”

his mom just hums, standing up and patting your cheek on the way to the stove.

yoongi steps up beside you soon after, close enough that you catch the faint scent of his shampoo, something fruity and familiar. he doesn’t say anything at first, just watches as you rinse out your glass, the weight of his gaze settling over you like a second blanket.

then an arm loops around your waist. it’s lazy, effortless. like it’s second nature to him now, the way he pulls you in, his fingers resting against the curve of your hip, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles against your shirt.

you freeze, because his mom is still standing by the stove, very much aware and very much watching. yoongi doesn’t seem to care. instead, he dips his head, pressing a kiss to your temple, soft and fleeting, barely there at all.

he lingers for a second longer, like maybe he wants to say something. maybe he’s thinking about it. but then his mom clears her throat.

not pointedly, not in a hey get your hands off that girl kind of way, but in a so are you two finally gonna get your shit together, or? kind of way.

yoongi ignores her completely. just tugs you closer, resting his chin on top of your head, and sighs. “did you finish all the juice?”

“no,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “there’s more.”

“good,” he murmurs, and that’s it. no teasing, no biting remarks. just this. his voice low and steady, his fingers still tracing idle circles against your side, holding you there like it’s nothing. like it’s everything.

his mom watches for a moment longer, sipping her tea. then, with a shake of her head, she turns back to the stove, muttering something about how she didn’t sign up for this bullshit but is too old to care anymore.

you should pull away. you really, really should. instead, you lean into him just a little more.

yoongi hums against your hair, the sound deep and quiet. “heading to the skate park later,” he murmurs. “gonna meet up with the others.” his fingers tap lightly against your hip, a slow, absent rhythm. “wanna come?”

you’ve been struggling to make friends in his sister’s absence. it’s not like you haven’t been trying. you’ve put yourself out there, made conversation, said yes to plans. but whatever you had going on with yoongi weighed enough guilt on your shoulders to sink you.

because replacing your best friend wouldn’t make you feel any better. wouldn’t fix the fact that she wasn’t here anymore and you had whatever you had going on with her brother.

but then again, if you had other friends, maybe you wouldn’t need to rely on yoongi’s presence so heavily. maybe you wouldn’t be here so much.

you were practically living with the mins at this point, rotating between yoongi’s room and his sister's, burrowing into the space she left behind like a stray cat that refused to be shooed away. as much as you loved being here, you also kind of hated it. hated feeling like a burden, like you were pushing too hard against the edges of a home that wasn’t really yours.

you’d only vanished for dinners with your own family after text after text about how they never see you anymore.

oops.

you shift, exhaling slowly, pressing your fingers into the warmth of yoongi’s hoodie. “who’s going?”

he shrugs against you. “jungkook, tae. maybe joon.”

you think about it. think about how nice it would be to get out of the house for a while. but mostly, you think about how you’re already too tangled up in yoongi’s orbit.

still, you murmur, “okay.”

yoongi doesn’t say anything right away. just tugs you in a little closer, fingers tightening at your hip, and presses another kiss to your forehead. lingering this time, sealing something in place. then, softly, “okay.”

he pulls back first, but only just. his hand stays at your waist, warm and grounding, making sure you don’t change your mind. “eat first,” he murmurs, gaze flicking toward the stove where his mom is flipping eggs. “then shower.”

you blink up at him. “are you calling me dirty?”

his lips twitch. “i’m saying you should shower.”

“sounds fake.”

he huffs, amused but unimpressed. “fine. smell like sleep and my hoodies forever. see if i care.”

you roll your eyes, finally stepping away from him, though you hate the way the absence of his touch feels so immediately wrong. still, you school your features into something appropriately annoyed as you grab a plate from the cabinet.

“can’t believe you’re bullying me first thing in the morning,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast.

yoongi snorts, swiping a slice of bacon off the stove before his mom can slap his hand away. “can’t believe you’re still talking.”

his mom groans. “i knew letting you two coexist was a mistake.”

you flash her a grin. “too late now.”

she just shakes her head, turning back to the stove.

yoongi bumps your hip with his before plopping down at the table, stretching his legs out obnoxiously under it. “shower,” he reminds you, mouth half-full of bacon.

you flip him off. he grins.

you roll your eyes, filling your plate with toast and bacon before sliding into the chair across from him. yoongi watches you with that lazy, knowing look, already knowing you’re going to stall as long as possible just to be a menace.

his mom sets a plate down in front of him, shaking her head. “if i hear either of you bickering before i finish my tea, i’m kicking you both out.”

“you love us,” you say, because it’s true.

she sighs, taking a sip. “unfortunately.”

yoongi snickers, stealing another piece of bacon. you don’t miss the way his mom flicks her gaze between the two of you, trying to decide if it’s worth saying anything else. but she just shakes her head again tbefore flipping open the newspaper.

you eat in comfortable silence, nudging at yoongi’s foot under the table just to be annoying. he nudges back. neither of you acknowledge it.

when you finally push your plate away, yoongi lifts a brow. “shower.”

you groan, slumping dramatically against the table. “why do you care so much?”

he chews, swallows, and says, “because you smell like my bed.”

your face heats instantly. “so?”

yoongi shrugs, reaching for his drink. “so people will think i’m obsessed with you or something.”

your heart stumbles over itself, trips and falls flat on its face.

“you are obsessed with me,” you blurt out, pointing at him. “admit it.”

he snorts, taking a sip of his juice. “nah.”

“liar.”

he just shrugs again. “go shower,” he says, pushing back from the table. “we’re leaving in twenty.”

you glare at him, but you still stand up, dragging your feet toward the hallway, making a show of how annoying this whole thing is.

right before you disappear into the bathroom, yoongi calls after you, voice laced with amusement. “don’t use my shampoo.”

you slam the door.

you knew yoongi liked to skate. it's been one of his most defining characteristics since the three of you were kids. along with his habit of being annoying and his penchant to get into trouble.

he'd showed you his collection of skateboards that day on his birthday, explaining how much he'd bought them for, showing you the designs he'd painted onto them himself, and telling you the tricks he'd done on them.

his hair had been blonde then. six months later, it’s a more minty color, faded at the roots. it suits him, you think. even if you’d never tell him that.

the walk to the skate park is quiet. comfortable. the late morning sun filters through the trees, casting warm patches of light onto the pavement, and the air still carries the crispness of early spring.

the path slopes downward, and you hesitate before saying, “i’ve been thinking about applying for an art course.”

“yeah,” yoongi says, kicking a loose rock down the path. “i heard you talking to my sister about it.”

you blink. “you eavesdropped on my call?”

he snorts. “you were in my room.”

fair point.

you nudge him with your elbow, ignoring the way your stomach twists at the idea of him remembering something so small. “so?”

he side-eyes you. “so what?”

you huff. “so, what do you think?”

yoongi rolls his shoulders like it’s obvious. “i think you should do it.”

it’s so simple. so straightforward. like there isn’t even a question in his mind about it.

you chew your lip, staring down at the pavement. “i dunno,” you mumble. “feels kind of stupid.”

yoongi stops walking. you get two more steps ahead before you realize and turn back, watching as he lifts a brow, expression flat.

“what?” you say.

his eyes flick over your face, unimpressed. “what’s stupid about it?”

you shift on your feet. “i don’t know. just... feels kind of late to be figuring out what i wanna do, i guess.”

yoongi stares at you for another long moment. then, without a word, he starts walking again. you fall into step beside him.

“you know namjoon didn’t start writing music until he was almost twenty?” he says eventually.

you frown. “that’s different.”

“not really.”

you glance at him, but he’s still looking ahead, expression unreadable.

“do it,” he says again, voice a little quieter this time. a little less teasing. “stop thinking about it and just do it.”

you exhale slowly, dragging your fingers along the strap of your bag. it’s so easy for him to say. but then again, yoongi has always done whatever he wanted, no matter how much trouble it got him into. maybe you should try it, too.

with that thought, your eyes linger on the side of yoongi’s face.

he’s always been like this. steady, sure of himself in a way that makes you envious. not in a loud, look-at-me way, but in a way that just is. like he’s figured out how to move through life without getting caught up in the little things that keep you stuck in place.

his gaze is focused ahead, brows drawn slightly, thinking about something but not saying what. the sharp line of his jaw softens when he chews at the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s lost in thought.

you wonder what he’s thinking about. if it’s you, or if you’re just making it about you.

either way, you don’t look away.

maybe he feels your stare, or maybe he just knows, because after another few steps, he turns his head, catching your gaze like he was expecting it.

you don’t get the chance to glance away, to play it off.

his lips twitch slightly, the barest hint of amusement. “what?”

you shake your head, shrugging. “nothing.”

yoongi lifts a brow but doesn’t push. just keeps walking, hands still shoved deep into his pockets, that same small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knows something you don’t.

and maybe he does.

you're familiar with some of yoongi’s friends. not in a close way, but enough that their names and faces aren’t completely foreign.

namjoon’s the oldest of his skater friends, the one who’s always been around in some capacity, showing up at the min’s house just as much as you used to. taehyung is newer, though still familiar. he’s got one of those personalities that makes you feel like you’ve known him forever, even if you’ve only spoken a handful of times.

and then there’s jungkook.

he was a year above you in school, and if that wasn’t enough to cement him in your memory, yoongi’s sister having the fattest crush on him definitely was.

you remember the way she used to sigh dramatically about him, how she’d make you wait outside the gym after basketball practice just to happen to be there when he walked out.

it was embarrassing.

the skate park is already busy when you arrive, full of guys who look like they’ve been here since sunrise, boards tucked under their arms, half-drunk bottles of gatorade left forgotten on the ledges.

yoongi barely glances around before spotting his friends near the bowl, plopping down on a nearby bench.

“you wanna sit and watch?” he asks, looking at you expectantly.

you hesitate, toeing at a crack in the pavement. jungkook, who’s already mid-conversation with taehyung, spots you first.

“oh, shit,” he says, grin spreading. “yoongi actually brought someone?”

taehyung turns too, eyes widening slightly before recognition clicks. “oh, wait. i know you.”

jungkook’s brow furrows, scanning you again. “yeah, you were a grade below me, right?”

you nod. “yeah. and yoongi’s sister used to be obsessed with you.”

jungkook groans immediately, dragging a hand down his face. “please don’t remind me.”

yoongi snickers beside you. “it was painful to watch, man.”

taehyung laughs, draping an arm over jungkook’s shoulder. “so you do have rizz.”

jungkook shoves him off. “shut up.”

you snort, easing onto the bench next to yoongi, feeling the tension in your chest uncoil just a little. maybe this won’t be so bad.

jungkook shakes his head, still grumbling under his breath about why does everyone keep bringing that up, but the conversation moves on quickly. taehyung says something about a new trick he’s been trying to land, and jungkook immediately challenges him to prove it.

yoongi stretches out beside you, one arm draped across the back of the bench, fingers tapping idly against the wood. he doesn’t seem in a rush to get up, which means you’re not in a rush to either.

“so, you actually skate?” you ask, nodding toward where taehyung is already flipping his board into his hands, preparing for his turn.

yoongi scoffs. “do i skate?”

you lift a brow.

he exhales, sitting up straighter. “i’m not just some guy with a collection, you know.”

“i dunno,” you tease, tilting your head. “i’ve never actually seen you do anything.”

yoongi narrows his eyes. “i showed you my boards.”

“yeah, but that’s like—” you wave a hand, “—showing off a bunch of guitars and never playing one.”

yoongi clicks his tongue, shaking his head. then, without a word, he stands, rolling his shoulders as he grabs his board.

“stay here,” he murmurs before stepping toward the bowl.

taehyung and jungkook are already watching as yoongi drops in, casual as ever, carving the curve of the bowl like it’s second nature.

and okay. fine. maybe you underestimated him a little. because yoongi doesn’t just skate. he’s good.

like, really good. smooth and effortless in a way that looks instinctual. you don’t realize you’re staring until jungkook nudges your arm, smirking.

“damn,” he muses, watching yoongi flip his board before landing clean. “you got a crush or something?”

your stomach flips. “shut up.”

jungkook just laughs.

yoongi moves like he’s been doing this forever. he doesn’t hesitate before dropping in again, knees bending smoothly with the curve of the bowl, shifting his weight just right before pushing into his next trick.

your eyes stay locked on him, unable to look away as he kicks his board up into a perfect flip, landing clean, not even the slightest stumble. he’s completely in his element. focused, sharp, like nothing outside of this moment exists.

you exhale, dragging your fingers across the edge of your sleeve.

“you’re staring,” jungkook teases under his breath, leaning close.

you glare, shoving him away. “i’m watching.”

jungkook snorts, clearly unbothered. “sure. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

but you don’t take the bait. not when yoongi lands another trick, smooth and seamless, and something tightens in your chest.

because damn. you never doubted that he could skate, but you didn’t expect this. the precision. the ease. the way he moves.

taehyung whistles low, impressed. “he’s showing off.”

you blink. “what?”

taehyung nods toward yoongi, who’s gearing up for another drop-in, his hoodie pulled up over his head now, mint-colored strands falling into his eyes.

“he wasn’t doing all this last time we were here,” taehyung muses, tilting his head. “probably trying to impress someone.”

you roll your eyes, but your stomach does a weird little flip anyway.

jungkook smirks. ���wonder who that could be.”

you elbow him in the ribs.

yoongi lands another clean trick, kicking his board up into his hands before finally stepping off, exhaling through his nose as he pushes his hoodie back.

his eyes scan the park once before landing on you, and—

oh. he’s smirking.

a knowing little thing, subtle but there.

your face heats instantly, and you hate the way jungkook and taehyung both make noises of confirmation at the same time.

yoongi strolls over, board tucked under one arm, sweat gathering at his hairline. he stops in front of you, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“so?” he says, tilting his head. “believe me now?”

you cross your arms, forcing your expression into something unimpressed. “eh,” you hum. “i guess you can skate.”

yoongi huffs, shaking his head like. he leans in slightly, gaze flicking over your face, voice quieter when he murmurs “you were watching pretty hard for someone who just guesses.”

"fuck off," you say with a scoff.

taehyung points a dramatic finger at you, his eyes wide with mock intensity. “my turn!” he announces, loud enough to catch the attention of a few other skaters nearby, “this is for you.”

you blink. “uh—”

before you can even ask what he means, taehyung grabs his board, squares his shoulders, and launches into what you assume is supposed to be an ollie.

except his timing is completely off. his foot misses the pop, his weight shifts too far forward, and then he’s face-planting straight into the pavement.

it happens so fast you barely have time to react. one second he’s in the air, the next he’s sprawled out on the ground, limbs tangled with his board, the dull slap of skin meeting concrete ringing through the air.

there’s a brief, stunned silence, and then jungkook wheezes. yoongi snorts so hard he has to clap a hand over his mouth, and you press your fingers to your lips, trying—and failing—to suppress your laugh.

taehyung groans, lifting his head just enough to glare at the three of you. “y’all suck.”

jungkook clutches his stomach, barely able to get words out. “bro, i can’t breathe—”

yoongi shakes his head, stepping toward you. his arm hooks around your waist, tugging you flush against his chest, your laughter cutting off with a small, surprised inhale.

his voice is lower, teasing but warm, as he murmurs, “that’s what he gets for trying to impress my girl.”

your stomach flips. the words settle heavy in your chest, something warm spreading from your ribs outward, curling into your fingers, making your breath hitch just slightly.

yoongi doesn't let go right away, his hold lingering, fingers flexing slightly at your hip like he’s perfectly comfortable keeping you there.

taehyung, still facedown on the pavement, mutters, “i hate all of you.”

yoongi hums, completely unbothered. “you’ll live.”

the skate park trip lasts another hour before the collective hunger settles in. someone suggests maccas, and there’s no argument. because really, there’s no better way to wrap up an afternoon of skating than cheap burgers and greasy fries, so you all walk.

yoongi’s close beside you, like he always is, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders relaxed. taehyung walks ahead, still rubbing at his scraped-up elbow, while jungkook pushes his board lazily along the sidewalk, rolling it forward with the tip of his shoe.

“so,” jungkook starts, voice full of something already obnoxious, “are you two, like… together or what?”

your reaction is immediate. “no,” you blurt, way too quickly, way too defensively.

yoongi huffs. it’s quiet, barely a breath, but you hear it. so does jungkook.

his brows shoot up, not expecting the level of urgency in your denial. yoongi, for his part, doesn’t say anything, but you feel the way his shoulders tense for a split second. the way his head tilts slightly, side-eyeing you.

you don’t look at him.

jungkook whistles low. “damn. that was fast.”

“right?” taehyung snickers.

your face heats. “because it’s not a thing.”

jungkook hums, unconvinced. “sure.”

taehyung nods. “yeah, totally. absolutely no thing happening here.”

you glare, shoving him as you walk past. yoongi stays quiet.

you don’t glance at him, but you feel his presence beside you, the weight of something tense hanging in the space between you. it doesn’t go away for the rest of the walk.

the mcdonald's is busy when you arrive, buzzing with the usual mix of skateboarders, students, and exhausted parents just trying to survive the afternoon rush.

the four of you shuffle into line, the overhead speaker crackling with some pop song that’s been playing on every radio station for months. jungkook and taehyung are still laughing about something behind you, but you don’t catch it. not when yoongi’s standing beside you, gaze straightforward.

you don’t know why you do it. maybe out of habit. maybe to see if he’ll react. but you nudge his arm, light, just a little bump against his sleeve.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t nudge back. doesn’t even look at you.

your stomach twists, something uncomfortably hot settling behind your ribs. yoongi doesn’t usually ignore you, at least not like this. not in a way that feels so intentional.

still, you don’t say anything.

the line moves forward. when you finally reach the counter, yoongi steps up first, rattling off his usual order without looking at the menu. and then he orders yours, too.

exactly how you like it. down to the make sure there's no pickles.

you blink, caught off guard, but before you can ask, yoongi beats you to it. “i know you don’t have money on you.”

you swallow, shifting on your feet. “oh.”

yoongi doesn’t glance at you. just hands the cashier a crumpled bill from his hoodie pocket.

“thanks,” you mumble, voice quieter than you mean it to be.

yoongi just hums. no teasing. no smug little comment. and that makes your chest ache even more.

you fidget with the hem of your sleeve, shifting closer before tilting your head up, peering up at him through your lashes. “… are you mad at me?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose. not annoyed, not exasperated. just something.

he tugs you against him. not rough, just a simple pull, his arm looping around your shoulder. his hoodie smells like faded detergent and cheap cigarette smoke and something unmistakably him.

“i’m not mad,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

you don’t know what to do with your hands, so you just shove them into your own pockets, fingers curling into the fabric. “… promise?”

yoongi sighs, his grip tightening slightly before his chin rests against the top of your head. “yeah,” he mutters. “promise.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead. a silent reassurance. a quiet see? i’m not mad. “don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

and you nod, leaning into him.

the playground is quiet this time of day, mostly empty aside from the four of you and the occasional kid passing by with their parents.

jungkook lounges at the bottom of the slide, food balanced on his knees, absentmindedly sipping his coke. yoongi sits a little further off, at the edge of the sandpit, one leg stretched out, the other bent, balancing his burger in one hand.

you and taehyung are on the swings, feet planted in the sand, your bags resting on your laps. the metal creaks slightly as taehyung shifts, twisting just enough to face you, an amused glint in his eyes.

“yours any good?” he asks, nodding toward your milkshake.

you hum, taking another sip. “mm-hmm.”

he leans in, offering his cup, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “wanna try mine?”

you blink at him. “it’s the same flavor.”

he pauses, then laughs, shaking his head. “yeah, but maybe mine tastes better.”

you frown, taking his drink anyway, sipping through the straw before handing it back. “nope. exactly the same.”

taehyung snorts. “right. obviously.”

you don’t catch the way he watches you for a second longer than necessary, or the way yoongi’s gaze flicks over from where he’s sitting.

your fries are nearly gone when tragedy strikes. you shift a little too much, and what’s left of them topples straight into the sand.

you let out a groan, staring down at them in dismay.

taehyung doesn’t hesitate, nudging his own toward you. “here,” he says, tone light, almost teasing. “you can have some of mine. since i’m so generous.”

you smile, grabbing a handful. “thanks, taehyungie. you’re my favorite.”

taehyung blinks, not expecting that response, then recovers quickly, smirk returning. “oh, am i?”

you nod, popping a fry into your mouth. “mm-hmm.”

“better not let yoongi hear that,” he muses, leaning closer, voice dipping just a little lower. “he might get jealous.”

you glance over at yoongi, who hasn’t reacted at all. still sitting there, picking at the wrapper of his burger, expression unreadable. then you shrug, completely missing the way taehyung’s eyes narrow in amusement.

“he’ll live,” you say, reaching for another fry.

taehyung watches you for a moment, absently sipping his milkshake, before tilting his head. "so, you and yoongi," he starts, casual. too casual. "really not a thing?"

you pause. it’s a split-second hesitation, but it's there, and taehyung doesn’t miss it.

you glance over at yoongi before you can stop yourself, like your body reacts before your brain can catch up. he’s still sitting on the edge of the sandpit, half-focused on peeling the wrapper off his burger, but his jaw is tight, his fingers a little too still.

you swallow, forcing yourself to look back at taehyung.

"no," you say, a little slower this time. "we're not."

taehyung hums, he’s turning it over in his mind.

"so, hypothetically," he muses, stretching out his legs in the sand, "if someone, say, me, wanted to take you out—"

you blink.

"—you wouldn't be off limits or anything, right?"

your lips part slightly, confusion flickering across your face before you shake your head. "uh… no?"

taehyung grins, dragging a fry through his ketchup before popping it into his mouth. "good to know."

you don’t even have time to process that before he shifts again, leaning slightly into your space, his voice dipping just enough to make your ears warm.

he nods toward yoongi, then toward himself, smirking. "technically, you’re with me right now."

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "you wish, taehyung."

"oh, i do," he says smoothly, sipping his milkshake like it's nothing.

you shake your head, tossing a fry at him, and he catches it without missing a beat.

from the edge of the sandpit, yoongi exhales sharply through his nose.

the conversation drifts after that, slipping into something lighter. taehyung teasing jungkook about his tragic attempt at a kickflip earlier, jungkook firing back with a dig about taehyung eating dirt at the skate park.

you listen, half-engaged, but the weight of something still sits in your chest.

yoongi hasn’t said much. hasn’t looked at you much, either.

he finished eating a while ago, now idly toying with the straw in his drink, long fingers tapping a slow, absent rhythm against the plastic cup.

then, after a moment, “we should go.” his voice is even, casual, but something about it makes you straighten a little too quickly.

“yeah,” you say, standing, dusting sand off your jeans. “sounds good.”

taehyung flashes a grin, tilting his head up at you from his swing. “what, leaving me already?”

you roll your eyes. “yeh, i’m done with you losers.”

jungkook snickers from his spot at the slide, but doesn’t comment.

you move to fall in step beside yoongi like you always do, but when you do, he kind of shrugs past you. not harsh, not in an outright dismissive way, but pointed enough that you feel it.

your feet hesitate for a split second before moving again, catching up despite the slight hitch in your chest.

yoongi doesn’t look at you. doesn’t say anything else.

just walks, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, gaze fixed ahead like there’s nothing to talk about. but you feel it. something in the space between you feels different. feels off.

and you don’t know what to do about it.

the walk home is quiet.

it’s not an awkward silence, not exactly, but it’s not the usual kind either. not the comfortable kind that’s filled with shared looks and nudges and stupid little comments that don’t really mean anything but still feel like something.

this silence is… something else. something heavier.

yoongi walks ahead, hands still shoved into his hoodie pockets, his pace easy, unbothered. you trail behind him, dragging your feet just enough to make yourself feel pathetic.

you don’t want to feel like this. don’t want to care that he’s keeping just a little too much distance between you, or that he hasn’t looked at you once since you left the playground, or that your stomach still twists a little too tightly when you think about the way he brushed past you.

but you do care. you care a lot.

you bite the inside of your cheek, arms crossed as you stare down at the pavement, forcing yourself to keep moving, to pretend like this doesn’t feel like some kind of punishment for something you don’t even understand.

when you finally reach his house, yoongi steps inside first, toeing off his shoes without a word before heading toward his room.

you hesitate at the entrance, shifting your weight between your feet.

technically, you don’t live here. technically, you could just turn around and go home. but you don’t. you never do.

so, with a quiet sigh, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

you linger by the entryway for a second longer than necessary, watching yoongi’s back as he disappears down the hall. he doesn’t look back, doesn’t wait for you.

so you swallow hard, shoulders curling inward, and follow after him anyway.

by the time you make it up to his room, yoongi’s already in the bathroom. the door isn’t closed all the way. just slightly ajar, steam from the sink curling into the dimly lit hallway. you hesitate for a second, fingers grazing the edge of your sleeve, before stepping inside.

he doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

just stands there, leaning over the sink, brushing his teeth with slow, methodical strokes, his hoodie peeled off and discarded somewhere on the floor. his hair is slightly damp at the ends, probably from splashing his face, mint-colored strands curling just slightly.

you grab your own toothbrush from the cup beside the faucet, running it under the water before squeezing out too much toothpaste. yoongi doesn’t glance at you, so you don’t glance at him either.

the silence is thick.

your shoulders brush as you move, barely, a light little thing that normally wouldn’t mean anything. except tonight, it does. tonight, you notice.

tonight, it feels like yoongi not nudging you back in the maccas line. it feels like yoongi shrugging past you instead of waiting.

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, at the way your brows are slightly furrowed, the way your mouth presses into a thin line as you scrub your teeth a little too hard.

this isn’t normal. normally, this is easy.

normally, you’d be bumping into each other, making faces in the mirror, shoving at his arm when he spits toothpaste too aggressively into the sink.

but tonight, he just brushes his teeth, and you do the same, and neither of you say a word.

when you finish brushing, you hesitate. just for a second.

toothbrush still in hand, you glance at yoongi out of the corner of your eye, watching as he rinses his mouth, spits, and swipes his hand across his face. he doesn’t look at you, just flicks off the faucet with a sharp movement and reaches for his towel.

your stomach feels tight. you should say something, but you don’t.

instead, you put your toothbrush back in the cup and turn toward his room, stepping past him without a word.

but before you can take another step, yoongi grabs you by the shoulders. his touch isn’t rough, but it’s firm. fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt, stopping you cold.

your breath catches, pulse stumbling.

“what do you want from me?”

his voice is low, but there’s something frayed at the edges. something not entirely calm.

you blink, caught completely off guard. “what?”

yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, hands tightening slightly.

“what do you want from me?” he repeats, slower this time.

your heart pounds against your ribs. his face is so close, eyes dark, searching, his jaw clenched like he’s trying to keep his voice even.

“because i—” he swallows hard, fingers flexing against your arms. “i want you. wholly. completely.”

your breath stutters. his grip doesn’t loosen.

“there’s no one else in the world i want more,” he says, voice rough. “but i need to know if i’m wasting my time.”

your throat goes dry, your mind races. the air is thick between you, heavy with something you don’t know how to name, something you don’t know if you can handle.

yoongi’s eyes flick over your face, searching for something, for anything. and you don’t know what to say.

you swallow hard.

yoongi’s fingers twitch against your shoulders, breath warm where it ghosts across your face. he’s so close, too close, looking at you like he’s begging for something—an answer, a reaction, anything.

“what do you see when you look at me?” he asks, voice low, rough around the edges.

your throat feels tight. “yoongi—”

“because when i look at you,” he continues, cutting you off, “i see the girl i kissed in the kitchen on my birthday. the girl i’ve been sharing a bed with for the past six months.”

the words settle heavy in your chest, pressing down, down, down.

“the girl i’m—” he exhales sharply, jaw clenching for a beat before forcing the words out. “the girl i’m hopelessly in love with.”

your breath stutters. his eyes flick over your face, searching, desperate.

he’s shaking now, just slightly. just enough that you feel it, just enough that you know this is costing him something.

“so tell me,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, like he’s scared of what comes next, “what do you see?”

he’s laid himself bare. no more room to dodge, no more room to pretend. it’s your turn.

but your mind is racing, spiraling too fast, trying to catch up.

before you can think, before you can second-guess, before you can talk yourself out of it, you kiss him.

it crashes into him, hands fisting into the fabric of his t-shirt, fingers curling tight like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

yoongi freezes. just for a second, just long enough for you to think you’ve fucked up, but then he moves. his hands slide from your shoulders to your waist, gripping, pulling, needing, mouth pressing firm against yours, breath hot and uneven as he exhales into the kiss.

it’s messy and urgent. six months’ worth of unsaid things spilling out all at once.

yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between frustration and relief, like he’s wanted this for so long he can’t believe it’s finally happening.

and you don’t know why you ever tried to fight it.

yoongi’s hands are firm at your waist, fingers pressing into your sides, his body heat sinking into yours. he lifts you, hands gripping beneath your thighs, shifting you up until you’re perched on the bathroom counter, your knees falling open around him as he steps between them, slotting himself exactly where he belongs.

you gasp against his lips, hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, but yoongi just smirks, a slow, teasing thing as he exhales sharply through his nose.

his fingers squeeze at your waist, holding you in place, keeping you trapped against him.

then, voice low, amused, “deja vu?”

your breath catches, stomach flipping. because fuck.

the birthday. the kitchen.

his hands on your thighs, his body between your legs, the first time you let him kiss you like this.

your mouth parts slightly, but nothing comes out. you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to respond to the way he’s looking at you. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, gripping tight.

yoongi’s smirk softens just a little, but his eyes stay locked on yours, sharp and knowing. “got an excuse to stop this time?” he murmurs, tilting his head.

you shake your head. “no.”

yoongi hums, pleased, his fingers flexing against your skin. “good,” he murmurs, before pulling you into him, mouth crashing back against yours.

yoongi kisses you like he’s starving for it, like he’s been holding back for months, fingers digging into your waist as he tugs you impossibly closer.

his hands move without hesitation. skimming up your sides, brushing beneath your shirt, teasing at the waistband of your shorts, testing how far you’ll let him go.

when you don’t stop him, when you only tighten your grip on his shirt, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, he exhales sharply against your lips.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough, barely holding back.

you nod, breathless. “yeah.”

that’s all he needs.

his hand slips past the elastic of your shorts, fingers pushing beneath the waistband of your underwear, pressing right there, just enough to make your stomach tighten, heat pooling deep in your core.

you gasp against his mouth, back arching slightly.

yoongi smirks, lips brushing against yours as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clit, teasing, barely enough pressure to satisfy.

“you’re already wet,” he murmurs, voice laced with something dark and pleased.

you bite your lip, hips shifting toward his hand, but he just hums, keeping the pace agonizingly slow.

“you like this?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know.

his fingers press down a little harder, circling just right, and you make a quiet, desperate noise. yoongi groans at that, his other hand gripping your thigh, keeping you open for him, his mouth brushing against your jaw.

“thought about this,” he mutters, lips ghosting over your skin, “so many times.”

his fingers move faster now, pressing, rubbing, teasing you to the edge, the heat between your legs burning beneath his touch.

“yoongi—” your voice breaks, head tipping back against the mirror.

his lips press against your throat, his breath heavy. he strokes over your clit again, pressing tight little circles that make your stomach twist, make your thighs tense around his waist, make your breath stutter out in sharp, quiet gasps.

yoongi groans against your skin, low and throaty, his mouth brushing along the curve of your jaw. he slides his fingers lower, pushing your underwear aside and teasing at your entrance, dragging them through your slick before pushing in.

a sharp inhale rips through you, your nails digging into his shoulders, his shirt fisting in your hands.

yoongi groans again, deep this time, his fingers sinking into your cunt nice and slow, stretching you open.

“fuck,” he mutters, mouth pressing against the corner of your lips, his breath hot.

his fingers curl, stroke, press into that soft, sensitive spot inside you, and your whole body tenses, a soft whimper slipping from your throat before you can stop it.

yoongi feels it, feels the way you tighten around his fingers, the way your hips jerk toward him, and groans, his forehead pressing to yours.

“yeah? you like that?” he murmurs, voice dark, rough.

you nod, breathless. “y-yeah.”

he exhales sharply, and his fingers keep moving. slow at first, dragging in and out, teasing you open, before pressing deeper, his thumb slipping up to rub your clit in slow, lazy circles. your thighs tremble around him.

“you always this wet, baby?” yoongi rasps, eyes flicking to yours, heavy-lidded, heated.

you don’t get the chance to answer, because then he’s crooking his fingers, pressing right fucking there, and all you can do is gasp, head falling back against the mirror with a quiet, breathless moan.

yoongi watches you. watches the way your body reacts to him, watches the way your lips part, the way your hands clutch at him, your whole body responding to him like you were made for his touch.

his breath shudders out.

“you’re gonna let me fuck you, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing his fingers deeper, harder, coaxing another whimper from your lips. his own brush against yours, not quite a kiss, almost. “tell me,” he breathes. “tell me you want it.”

your whole body reacts before your brain even catches up, hips rolling instinctively into yoongi’s hand, chasing the pleasure he’s pulling from you.

“i—” your breath shudders, voice barely above a whisper. “i want it.”

yoongi curses under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours for half a second before he drives his fingers into you again, pressing hard, and you squeal, the sound high-pitched and desperate. before it can fully escape, yoongi’s hand is covering your mouth, his fingers pressing against your cheek, his own breath coming out shaky.

“fuck,” he groans, voice thick with something dark.

his fingers don’t slow. they move fast and rough, pumping into you, curling deep, his thumb rubbing messy, urgent circles over your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge until your whole body is trembling, tightening around him, begging for it.

yoongi groans again, his hand still over your lips, muffling every soft, broken noise spilling from your throat.

“be quiet,” he breathes, voice strained, like he’s losing himself in the way you react to him, the way you feel around his fingers.

you can’t be quiet. not when he’s touching you like this, not when he’s looking at you like this. eyes heavy, jaw clenched, breathing ragged as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

you whimper into his palm, your hands clutching at his wrist, your whole body tightening as pleasure crashes through you, sending a sharp, blinding wave of heat down your spine.

yoongi groans, watching the way you come undone around his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze down, hips stuttering against his hand.

he doesn’t move his hand from your mouth until the tremors in your thighs start to fade. when he does, he presses his forehead against yours, exhaling sharply, his fingers slipping out of you just as slowly as they slid in.

“we’re not done,” he says, voice low, utterly wrecked.

his breath is still heavy, his forehead pressed to yours, hands sliding back down to your hips, gripping. yoongi grinds against you, his hips rolling forward just enough that you feel him. feel how hard he is through his jeans, the way he presses right up against you.

your breath stutters, fingers tightening in his shirt, and yoongi groans, voice rough, barely holding himself together. “fuck, doll.”

your stomach flips. the name isn’t new. he’s thrown it around before, teasing, casual, just part of the way he speaks. but this is different.

his lips brush over your cheek, jaw, down to your throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses between his words. “you feel that?” he murmurs, voice thick, almost shaky.

you nod, swallowing hard, and yoongi hums, dragging his mouth back up to your ear.

“this is what you do to me,” he breathes.

he grinds again. harder this time, pushing against you, making you feel him. letting you know exactly what you’ve done to him, exactly how much he wants you.

his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, grazing the bare skin of your waist, warm and possessive, gripping like he’s making sure you don’t slip away.

“gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he murmurs, kissing just beneath your ear, smirking against your skin when he feels you shudder.

his hips roll forward again, pressing just right, sending a spark of heat straight through you, and a soft whimper slips past your lips before you can stop it.

yoongi groans at that, his grip tightening. “yeah?” he murmurs, teasing. “like that?”

you nod frantically, breathless.

yoongi smirks, lips grazing yours. “good,” he mutters.

then he kisses you hard, hands gripping your thighs, pulling you even closer as his hips roll into yours again, again, again.

your fingers move down fumble against the waistband of his jeans, your breathing uneven, hands barely able to keep up with the urgency buzzing through your veins.

yoongi feels it. feels your desperation, your need, the way your hands shake slightly as you try to pop the button.

he smirks. "impatient, huh?" his voice is low, teasing, lips brushing over yours as he exhales, the warmth of it sending a shiver straight down your spine.

"take these off," you whimper softly, frustrated, fingers tugging uselessly at the fabric, and yoongi chuckles.

“here, doll,” he murmurs, his own hands coming down to cover yours, moving with an effortless ease, his fingers brushing against yours as he pops the button open, then drags the zipper down, slow and deliberate.

he holds your gaze the entire time, watching the way your eyes flicker, the way your chest rises and falls too fast, too eager.

"there we go," he murmurs, voice thick with something almost fond.

his hands shift, moving to the waistband of your shorts now, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, grazing warm over your skin.

“lift your hips for me,” he mutters.

you do, without question, and yoongi chuckles at that, his lips curling just slightly, pleased, before he drags your shorts down, letting them drop to the floor.

his gaze dips, his fingers skimming over your bare thighs, and he hums, voice deep, teasing. "much better."

your breath is ragged, your body thrumming with anticipation, but somewhere in the back of your mind you manage to think just clearly enough to gasp out, “wait—do you have a condom?”

yoongi huffs, lips brushing against your jaw as he mutters, “yeah, yeah. hang on.”

then, before you can say anything else, he pulls away, stepping back with a sharp exhale, raking a hand through his messy, mint-tinted hair.

you watch as he disappears into his room, the absence of his warmth making you ache, leaving you cold in a way that has nothing to do with the air against your bare skin.

you hear the faint slide of a drawer opening, the sound of something shifting inside. then the drawer shuts, footsteps padding back toward the bathroom.

yoongi steps inside again, his gaze flicking over you. still perched on the counter, thighs spread, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. then, without breaking eye contact, he lifts the foil packet to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth.

your stomach flips.

his eyes are dark, focused, his breath steady as he pulls the condom free. “gonna be good for me, doll?” he murmurs, voice thick, nearly a growl.

you nod, too breathless to speak, and yoongi smirks.

then he steps between your legs again, his hands warm and possessive at your waist, his mouth ghosting over yours as he mutters “good girl.”

yoongi doesn’t rush, doesn’t fumble.

his fingers move smoothly, easily, like he’s done this a million times before, even as his chest is rising a little too fast, his muscles tense beneath his skin.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down in one slow, fluid motion, along with his boxers, just far enough to free himself, and your breath catches. he’s hard, aching and heavy, flushed at the tip, standing thick against his stomach.

yoongi exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back, and then he’s sliding the condom over his cock, his fingers sure and steady, his gaze flicking up to yours through heavy-lidded eyes.

“you watching me, doll?”

your cheeks burn. “no....”

yoongi smirks, the corner of his lips curling, completely unbothered by your blatant lie. “sure you aren’t.”

his voice is amused, teasing, but there’s something darker beneath it. something satisfied at the way your thighs shift, the way your breath hitches when his fingers tighten at your waist.

the condom rolls into place, snug around the base, and yoongi gives himself a slow stroke, groaning under his breath before stepping closer, slotting himself between your legs once more.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pulling you to the edge of the counter. his length presses against you, hot, throbbing right against your cunt, and you gasp, hands flying to his shoulders.

yoongi chuckes, but there’s something wrecked in his eyes now, barely holding it together. “still want this?” he murmurs, voice rough, hands squeezing at your skin.

your fingers curl into his shoulders. “yes,” you breathe.

yoongi groans, low and deep in his chest. “good,” he mutters. then he aligns himself and pushes in.

the stretch is intense. your breath stutters, nails digging into his skin as he pushes in slow but insistent, filling you inch by inch.

"fuck," yoongi groans through clenched teeth, his head dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

you whimper, your walls clenching down around him, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him, the way he’s stretching you open, making space inside you that wasn’t there before.

"tight—" yoongi grits out, his hands squeezing your hips, forcing himself to take it slow. his arms tremble slightly as he holds himself still, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. "so fucking tight, doll," he murmurs, voice strained, lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

you moan softly, head pressing against the side of his. yoongi shudders against you, his fingers twitching where they grip your thighs, his body tense like he’s barely holding on.

"shit," he exhales, his voice wrecked, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, breath heavy.

you’re both completely still, bodies locked together, hearts pounding in sync. yoongi grits his teeth, exhaling hard through his nose. then, his lips brush against your ear, voice barely more than a breath. "tell me when, doll."

your fingers tighten in yoongi’s shirt, legs trembling around his waist, your whole body thrumming with need, stretched tight around him but craving more, needing him to move.

you tilt your head back against the mirror, breath coming out in quick, shallow gasps.

"please," you whisper, voice wrecked, barely able to get the word out.

yoongi groans, deep in his chest, his hands tightening at your hips. "yeah?" he rasps, his voice low and gravelly. before you can even nod he snaps his hips forward.

the force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, sends a sharp, blinding spark of pleasure through your spine. yoongi curses under his breath, pushes in deeper before pulling back and slamming into you again and again, fast and hard.

every thrust sharp, his grip bruising, his breath hot against your neck as he groans against your skin, completely losing himself in the way you squeeze around him, the way you take him so perfectly.

"fuck, doll," he grits out, voice shaking, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "so fucking good."

your hands scramble for purchase, gripping at his shoulders, his hair, his arms, anything to ground yourself as he drives into you, his pace unrelenting.

"wanted this," he groans, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. "wanted you for so fucking long."

your breath hitches, your body tightening around him in response, and yoongi feels it.

"shit," he groans, slamming into you harder, faster, deeper. "say it," he demands, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath ragged. "tell me you wanted this too."

your breath stutters, pleasure coiling so tight in your stomach it’s almost painful.

"i—" your voice breaks, another moan slipping free as he fucks in deep, his cock kissing that sweet spot, his pace just a little too much, just enough to make your thighs shake.

yoongi smirks against your lips. "c’mon, doll."

you clutch at his shoulders, nails scraping down his back, legs tightening around his waist as you finally choke out, "i wanted this."

his body shudders against you, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, his rhythm faltering just slightly before he picks it up again, faster, harder, driving into you like he’s trying to make up for all the months of waiting, of wanting, of not having.

"good girl," he breathes, his hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips hovering just over yours, his breath hot and uneven. "so fucking good for me."

your stomach flips, heat rolling through you like a tidal wave, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. yoongi feels it. feels the way your body tenses, the way your legs shake, the way your walls clamp down tight around him.

"you gonna cum for me, doll?" he murmurs, voice dark, teasing, but there’s something almost soft under it, something needy, something that says he wants this just as much as you do.

you nod, breathless, your body already so close. yoongi groans, his pace punishing, his hands holding you exactly where he wants you.

"then be good," he rasps, voice breaking. "cum for me."

your head tilts back, mouth falling open as a sharp, broken moan escapes your lips, and yoongi reacts on instinct. his hand slaps over your mouth again, muffling the sound, his palm hot against your skin.

"shhh, doll," he groans, his forehead dropping against yours, his own breath coming in ragged, uneven pants. "you gotta be quiet."

his words barely register over the sheer pleasure that slams through you, waves of heat rolling through your body as you gush around him. your whole body shakes, thighs trembling, walls fluttering around his cock, the pressure between your legs snapping so hard you see white.

yoongi grits his teeth, his pace stuttering, his hand still firm over your mouth as he groans deep in his chest. "fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice low, wrecked, almost pleading.

his hips don’t relent, driving into you through the aftershocks, his pace growing more erratic, more desperate, chasing his own high as you pulse around him, your body still milking him for everything he has.

"so fucking tight," he mutters, his lips brushing over your damp skin, his breath hot, ragged. "tou're gonna milk me dry, doll. gonna cum so fucking hard—"

his words send another sharp, overwhelming wave of heat through your already-sensitive body, another muffled whimper slipping past your lips against his palm.

yoongi groans, his movements turning sloppy, his body tensing. and then, with a sharp, wrecked moan, he breaks.

yoongi slams into you one last time, his whole body tensing, a deep, wrecked groan spilling from his lips as he cums, hips jerking against yours, fingers digging into your skin. his breath is shaky, uneven, his forehead pressing against yours, his body trembling slightly as he rides out his high.

his hand is still covering your mouth, his palm warm against your flushed skin, muffling the soft, breathless whimpers still slipping past your lips.

it takes a second. a long, heavy moment where the only sounds in the bathroom are your mingled breathing, the faint hum of the overhead light, the distant creak of the house settling.

and then yoongi exhales hard, his body relaxing against yours, his grip loosening as he finally lets his hand drop from your mouth.

your lips are swollen, your chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, your whole body still reeling from the intensity of it all.

yoongi leans in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of your mouth. so gentle, so tender, reminding you that even after everything, he’s still him. "you okay, doll?"

his fingers brush over your cheek, his touch light and his gaze flicking over your face, checking. making sure you’re here, with him. making sure he didn’t just wreck you beyond repair.

you swallow hard, blinking up at him, your fingers still gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid to let go. "yeah," you whisper, voice hoarse, spent. "i’m okay."

yoongi hums, his lips twitching just slightly, a hint of something soft beneath the haze of pleasure still clouding his gaze. "good," he murmurs. "‘cause that was—" he exhales sharply, a small, breathy chuckle slipping past his lips, shaking his head like he can’t even find the words.

you laugh, quiet, breathless, your forehead tipping against his. "yeah," you murmur. "it was."

neither of you move right away. neither of you want to.

right now, it’s just you and him, breathing in the same air, existing in the same space, his hands still on your waist, your legs still wrapped around him, his lips still close enough that all it would take is the smallest movement to kiss him again.

and you want to. but before you can, yoongi snickers, shaking his head as he pulls back just enough to look at you, an amused smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

"well," he mutters, voice teasing, "guess we gotta shower now."

you groan, tilting your head back with an exhausted sigh, "can't we relax a bit first?"

but he just grins, leaning in to press another lazy, lingering kiss to your jaw. "c’mon, doll," he hums against your skin, lips curving as his hands squeeze at your hips.

"round two?"

taglist : @rpwprpwprpwprw @haru-jiminn @glossdebut @mimi1097 @angellekookie @yooniivrse @annyeongbitch7 @hemmosfear

[backtothefanfiction]

Sleep Talking | Joaquin Torres

Summary; Joaquin could never keep a secret.

Warnings: none, this is all fluff

A/N: I couldn’t sleep until I’d put something out so yeah, this is just a real quick short before bed kind of story. I’ll get back on my asks/wips/part 2s of stuff tomorrow. For now, enjoy this. Also sorry I haven’t done tags it’s late and I’m tired so hope this finds you fine.

You woke unable to breathe. “Ouch, Joaquin,” you grumbled as your mind and body slowly dragged itself from sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled sleepily.

“Baby, you’re squishing me.”

“What?” he groaned, but you could tell he was only half awake.

“Roll over. You’re squishing me. And you’re making me feel like I’m sleeping with a freaking radiator. Jeez.” you moaned as he shifted slightly and you truly felt how stifling it had become under the covers.

“It’s not me. It’s you,” he sleepily grumbled. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he grumbled another response. “No.” he said with a sigh as he rolled back over onto his back on his pillow. “It was you. I know you ate my sandwich.” he mumbled.

Sandwich? What was he- ohhh, he’s sleep talking.

You chuckled to yourself as you rolled over onto your side to watch him sleep. Every now and again his lips would silently move to talk again, but it was mostly silent. You were just about to close your eyes and go back to sleep when you heard the words, “Because I’m going to marry her.”

There was a pause as if he was listening to someone else speak before he said, “What do you mean who? Y/N who else. I’ve already got the ring. I’ve been keeping it in my underwear drawer for weeks now.”

You were suddenly wide awake. You didn’t know if it was just the dream or if there was some actual truth to it and his subconscious was bleeding through. But there was one thing for sure, you weren’t going back to sleep until you knew for sure.

You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could as you crept out of bed, reaching for your phone and turning on the torch. Your feet padded quietly across the floor as Joaquin continued to let out small little murmurs. Every tiny shift you made to open the drawer sounded like thunder in your ears and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t wake up and catch you in the act. You gave one last quick tug on the old dresser drawer and there it was. Barely concealed by a pair of underpants, a square blue box.

You stood frozen in agony as you warred with yourself over what to do. Did you look and ruin the surprise completely or did you pretend you didn’t know it was there and climb back into bed. But you couldn’t help it. Now you knew of its existence, it was going to be burning a hole in the back of your head. You just wanted to be sure he picked a good ring, you tried to reason with yourself. You could be a good actress. You could still look surprised. You tried to rationalise as your fingers pulled out the velvet box. I mean he’s asleep, he’s not gonna know. You thought.

“Baby? What are you doing?” Joaquin asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. You looked at him guiltily. This was no sleep talking, he was well and truly awake now, sitting upright in bed as his eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the light of your torch in the dim room. That’s when he looked at your hands. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Baby, I- wait, how did you-“ he paused as you continued to stand at the end of the bed frozen. Then he realised. “I was sleep talking.”

“Yes.” you finally said softly.

He groaned in frustration. “My mom said I could never keep a secret. I just wished for once I could have kept this one.”

“It’s alright,” you said.

“Did you look?” he asked.

“Not yet.” you replied. Your answer brought a soft smile to his face and he silently beckoned you over to sit with him.

“You know, I was waiting to do this on that trip to New York we were gonna take in a couple of weeks.” he began to explain, “but I guess this is good too.” Although it was dark in the room, you could tell he was beginning to blush as he took the box from your fingers.

“Y/N,” he said as his fingers deftly removed the ring from the box before he set it to one side. He tucked the ring into his fingers so you couldn’t see it just yet before he shuffled closer to you to continue his speech. “I have been in love with you from the minute I laid eyes on you. You can ask any of the boys, the second I saw you I said, that’s her, that’s the girl I’m going to marry. And of course they didn’t believe me, but I knew. You’ve been there with me for everything. Every hard day. Every promotion. You were always there to be my light and cheer me on.” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “You make every single day of my life, so much brighter and I don’t ever want to think of a day when you don’t wake up by my side. Y/N, will you do me, the greatest honour of my whole life,” he said, finally holding out the ring to you. “Will you marry me?”

It may have been 4am. It may have been in the dark of the night and extremely unconventional, but it was Joaquin. And you were always going to say yes to Joaquin.

[skeltnwrites]

Break the Bed In— ⋆₊˚⌂

The first morning in your new home is slow and soft, spent tangled up in bed with Steve.

mdni 18+ fem/afab reader, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), switch!steve/reader, the fluffiest sweetest smut you'll ever read | 4k

a/n: this is dedicated to all my single ladies. happy valentine’s day you freaks! coincidentally i also moved houses yesterday so this feels extra fitting

── .✦

You wake well-rested; like every inch of you was unraveled and woven back together while you dreamt. Your wrist hangs off the side of the mattress, fingernails brushing the carpet. Your bed frame is a heap of wooden slats across the room, as is most of the furniture currently in your house. 

Steve’s arm is warm under your neck, his breath a steady string behind you. You flip over, your ear landing in the crease of his elbow. 

He’s softer in sleep. Cheek squished to his shoulder, lips pressed to a pout. He’s boyish in a lot of ways still, but growing less so the longer you know him. He’s got stubble and sun spots and smile lines. And you love each of those things, swearing he’s getting more and more handsome with them every day. Blame it on the lingering moving high but today the feeling triples. 

There’s a unique kind of joy in buying your first home together. It’s perpetual surprise, popping up in the most mundane of moments. It’s picking taupe over eggshell for the living room and it’s paying extra for matching key designs and it’s waking up beside your favorite person on a mattress on the floor. 

You stamp your lips into his skin in good morning, and again because it’s a satisfying warmth on your mouth. He smells sweet, like your new body wash since he couldn’t find his last night. You decide you like the scent on his skin better than yours. 

The quiet is strange but the farthest thing from unwelcome. No neighbors or roommates or parents to wake to. Just the soft hush of rain against the roof and the swish of your ankles underneath the blankets. 

Your fingers chase the hair from Steve’s eye socket, your thumb perching behind his ear. His pupils shift under his eyelids and he sighs the softest little sound you’ve ever heard. 

It’s cruel to wake him, certainly. He did most of the heavy lifting yesterday and was up organizing later than you were. But you’re feeling especially selfish this morning, tickling him awake with a swarm of several more arm kisses. 

There are worse things to wake up to, you reason with yourself as Steve hums, his fingers curling against the sheet. He’s quiet for a long beat and you decide maybe it's better to let him rest. 

But his lips part and he rasps out, “Mornin’.” 

“Mornin’,” you parrot. Your grin is immediate, spanning ear to ear with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. 

He smushes your face to his bare collar, the heel of his free hand climbing up his cheek. 

You turn to watch his eyes unstick themselves of sleep and continue to wonder how you got so lucky. You press another kiss to his chin. Another to the coarse thatch of hair on his chest. Another to his shoulder. You just can’t help yourself today. 

“It’s so quiet,” he murmurs, hand crawling under your shirt in a long splay up your spine. 

You beam, weaving a leg under his heavy one. “I know.” 

“We have a house.” 

“I know.” You sound as excited as you can be without yelling. 

He hums, the corners of his smile creeping wider, a hand steady on your back. 

Your finger twists a curl at his nape idly. “What’re you thinking?” 

Steve’s gaze flickers from the ceiling to you, eyes like old pennies under the clouds coloring your room a gloomy shade of gray. “Nothin’,” he whispers, lips skimming the corner crease of your eye. “Just happy.” 

You hum, one part agreement, two parts delight. “Can we get a dog now?” 

He huffs out a chuckle, vibrating the place where your chests kiss. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask.” 

“‘Cause you always say no.” 

“‘Cause it didn’t make sense before.”

“So, we can?” 

He has a hard time pretending to hate the look you show him. Your jutted lip and raised brows show no mercy. He wants to say yes, of course he does, but he’s not as impulsive as he used to be. He’s a homeowner. His responsibilities extend beyond just himself now. 

“Can we unpack the house first? Then we’ll talk about it.”

You flick his collarbone. “Excuses. Excuses.” 

If there’s a fond way to roll your eyes at someone, he’s figured out how to do it. Steve knows you’re all drama. And he knows you’re over the moon with or without the promise of a dog. 

You bend out of his embrace and regret sitting the second you’re up. Your back aches twice its weight, muscles sore with yesterday's labor. 

But Steve relishes his view. You're in nothing but underwear and one of his shirts, the dip of your lower back exposed where the hem has scrunched up. He might buy you new pajamas if he thought you’d actually wear them or if he didn’t adore just how lovely his clothes look on you. 

And he doesn’t give you a chance to ask, his fingers automatically massaging a path up your aching shoulder. You squirm but you love it. You kiss his hand in thank you and carry it around your waist to play with. 

“Don’t get up,” he says. Pleads, practically.

You face him. “But we have sooo much to unpack.” 

“It can wait,” he argues. He steals your entwined hands for a persuasive set of kisses. One to each knuckle and then a flurry up your arm. And his hands are an equally convincing force, coercing you right back onto his chest. 

You’re putty, melting into his hot hands like candle wax. You throw a leg over his waist and settle down in a more comfortable straddle. The possibility of you falling back asleep jumps an alarming percentage. 

You bolster your chin on his sternum and meet his eyes. “But I really want that dog.” 

“More than me?” 

You hum debatably into his puckered lips.

He smiles hard and forgets about kissing you, pinching your side until you yelp. Your giggles spill through twin smiles, overlapping each other in layers. “Might have to put the house back on the market if you keep being so mean to me," he says.

“I’ll be nicer if we go look at the shelter today.” 

“Mm. Not letting this go are we?” 

You shake your head.

He pecks the corner of your mouth. “We’ll go–”

You see the shift in his expression before he even says anything. Your eyebrows jump in excitement. 

“If,” he tacks on quickly, “we finish downstairs today. Hmm?” 

“Mhmm. Easy.” 

“Easy,” he repeats. But not one lick of him believes you. It wasn’t easy carrying so many of your boxes yesterday and it certainly wasn’t easy getting you to pack everything up in the first place. 

But ultimately he’s amused. And he thinks you’re especially pretty when you’re confident. So Steve kisses you like he has something to prove. 

He gropes the swell of your ass mid-kiss and while it’s not unusual for him to do so playfully, you can’t perceive it in any way innocent when you’re pressed up against his morning wood. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly. 

He hums against your mouth, a faux sound of innocence. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

You break apart with a wet smack. “Gotta unpack.”

“Have all day,” he says, words all smushed together so he can sew his lips right back to yours. 

“Mm-mmm.” You turn your cheek, but the hands on your waist don’t let you go far. “‘S, like, ten-thirty already.” 

He works a slow line past your jaw, spending extra time on the sensitive skin around your throat. Devious. 

“Steve.” 

“Hmm?” 

You push off his chest until you're sitting upright on his thighs.

His heart tick tick ticks under the flat of your palm. His pupils are wide, mouth kiss-bruised a bright shade of red. He’s so, so dreamy, all flushed and starry-eyed like this. He’s got you wrapped around his finger just as much as you’ve strung him with yours.  

You sigh. “Why do I let you win?” 

He smirks that stupid victorious smirk you love so much. “‘Cause you love me.”

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Me?” he laughs. 

“Mhmm. And a hypocrite.” 

The hand clasping your hip pressures you back down, the other cradling one side of your jaw. “A hypocrite?” he whispers. 

“Mhmm.” 

He fills the tiny space between you, half-lidded and heavy-handed in a fervent kiss. He’s not rough but he is eager. Open-mouthed and persistent like he’s trying to weld his face to yours. 

You meet him with the same intensity. It’s instinctual. The push-pull of your bodies, like you’re more one entity than two. You’ve been dating Steve long enough to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. You’ve made out more times than you can count. And he’s a simple man. You’ve got him hard, properly hard, in a matter of minutes. 

His bottom lip is pinned between your teeth, your chests rising and falling in sync. You grind back on his crotch and his breath hitches. 

“Ahh,” he pants. “Can I…” 

You don’t know what he’s trying to ask but you nod anyway. It’s not hard to piece together, though; not when he’s fisting the fabric of your shirt like it’s causing him physical pain to see you wear it. 

You help him hitch it up your back and down your arms to be tossed out of the way. Steve quickly stops you from lying back down. His large palms spread wide against your tummy, thumbs kneading either side of your belly button. He roves up your ribs attentively, studying how your skin pulls and dips beneath his fingers. 

You swear you feel him down to the divots in his fingerprints, the slow speed of his hands tantalizing. 

His thumbs pause at your breastbone, sweeping up and around your nipples as if he’s never played with them before. They perk up easily, to Steve's obvious enjoyment. 

He’s told you a thousand times how pretty you are, naked and not. And he doesn’t have to say it now for you to know he’s thinking it. 

He stares at your chest, your tummy, the soft stretch of your thighs, each like they’ve been carved from marble, destined to end up behind a glass at some museum he’s never been to. 

You get shy eventually, needling past his hold to hide in the slope of his neck. Your mouth peppers lazy kisses where it can reach. Soft ones, not nearly as greedy as before. You work your way up, suckling long enough to leave a couple of red rings in your wake. 

Steve's hips shift under yours as you arrive back at his mouth. He’s getting antsy, the finger fidgeting with the hem of your panties no longer satisfied. So maybe you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are when he holds your hips down and bucks up into your clothed cunt. 

Your jaw slackens, a broken moan dampened against his mouth. 

“Can be loud ‘s you want now,” he assures. His hands roam, around your ass and back up your sides. Soothing, but so feather-light you shudder. 

“Still have neighbors.” 

He hums in half agreement. Yes, you have neighbors, but their bedroom wall isn’t attached to yours. He imagines you’d have to scream bloody murder for the neighbors to hear you here. 

You slink back up to sit and Steve’s fingers fall to your hips. Your pelvis rolls into his. Again when he shudders. 

“Shit,” he sighs. 

“Feel good?”

His eyes disappear behind his lashes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mhmm.” 

You continue to work him through his briefs, a slow back and forth forming a hot puddle between your own legs. With one hand propped against his sternum, you force your eyes over to the stacks upon stacks of moving boxes in the room. 

“Condoms… condoms.” 

Steve almost misses your mumbling– and to his credit, you’re talking more to yourself than him– but he blinks out of his daze and sighs vaguely at the nearest box. “Fuck. Bathroom, maybe.” 

Not ideal. 

“Think I have one in my purse,” you remember, swaying heavily to the side to scan the floor beside the mattress. 

Steve’s hands fly to your waist to balance you as he huffs. “You mean your bottomless pit?” 

“Don’t shame me. It comes in handy.” The bottomless pit in question is spotted, half buried under yesterday’s clothes across the room. “One sec’.”

Steve grumbles as you climb off of him. But his heart turns in his chest as you saunter off. His love for you is always there. It’s the shape of you as you crouch, how you tip your purse upside down and fan the contents out across the floor with a hum. 

“Aha.” You pop up, waving a glossy, square packet as you skip your way back. “My trusty bottomless pit saves the day.”

You clamber back on top of him clumsily, planting yourself in his lap like he’s no more fragile than the kitchen barstool. 

Steve groans under his breath. You’ve got him really wound up and his patience is thinning. 

Your hips roll into his again, the curve of his cock a strong silhouette through two sticky layers of fabric. You scoot back on his thighs and palm him with modest pressure. 

“Babe,” he shudders, thumbs pawing the sides of your underwear again. “Please.” 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

You watch him intently. How his nostrils flare the second you break the seal between his hot skin and the band of his underwear. How his eyebrows crinkle together as you push the cotton down his thighs. 

His cock bobs free before you take it gently by the base. Steve’s not just a pretty face, and he’s not cocky for no reason. He’s well-endowed, a dusty shade of pink blended tan into the dark curls at his hilt. 

“Fuck, baby.” 

He shifts his gaze past you because he’s certain if you make eye contact with him this’ll be the shortest sex of his life. And even the half-blurry blob of you in his peripherals is still too fucking enticing. He forces his eyes up at the popcorn ceiling and traces the shapes in his mind. 

You spread the pearl of precum down a vein on the side of his cock, using the slip to tug him a handful of times. The slick dissolves, and your hand catches twice before you’re getting ready to spit in it.  

But Steve whines, “Need to feel you.” 

Your hand stops but the pad of your pinky trails a sneaky line from tip to base. “My hands not enough for you, Stevie?” 

“Not gonna– mm– last.” 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

You mean it rhetorically but he quickly shakes his head no. You forget how much you enjoy being in charge until you have Steve squirming under you. 

You stabilize yourself on his chest, hiking one leg up at a time until you’re underwear have been flung to the floor. The slick between your folds is more palpable as you sit back on his thighs, hot skin to hot skin. 

His eyelids flutter closed as you roll the condom on. He’s flushed up to his ears, breath nimble off his open mouth. 

“Ready?” 

He nods like you’ve asked something outrageously silly. 

You guide the head of his cock up to your folds, sinking down in one tedious stride. It’s a good kind of ache, scratching the deepest part of your tummy. 

His hips jerk involuntarily as you release your full weight onto them, his nails leaving crescents on your skin. “‘M not gonna last,” he warns again. 

“I’ll go slow.” 

It’s not much consolation. No matter what you do to him, he’s not gonna last. You’re too damn irresistible for your own good. 

You rock your hips forward and back in a continuous cycle. The pace is indulgent, just slow enough to make things last. Your eyes unfocus, your head tipping back. Every drag squeezes the coil in your stomach tighter. 

Steve’s eyes flick to yours, his voice wavering as he mumbles, “Tease me too much.”

“I do?”

“Mhmm.”

You smile softly at him and his eyes jump away. He’s drawing loopy patterns into the meat of your thigh to distract himself. And it doesn’t help when you cover his hand and sweep your thumb across every digit. He’s so focused on not blowing his load that he can’t even speak. 

You pause your rhythm and hum to yourself before continuing. “Know what I just realized.”

“Hmm?”

“Forgot the shower curtain.”

Steve exhales hard, words sticking to his teeth.“We’ll get a new one.” 

“I really liked that one.”

He can’t think straight long enough to tell if you’re purposely trying to distract him or not and he doesn’t care all that much either way. He just needs you to be the same level of fucked that he is. 

His hand trembles over to your pubic bone, thumb snaking right up to your clit. 

You nod as he presses. Right there. 

He rubs slow circles, a spark of pleasure each time he closes a loop. 

“Fuck,” you drawl simultaneously. 

You laugh, blissfully unaware as your muscles clamp around his cock. 

But Steve’s fingers pause on your clit, his other hand tense at your hip. “Don’t,” he shudders out. 

You close your mouth, a soft little apology grin that sends Steve’s stomach flipping. He’s so fucking in love it’s not even funny. 

“Sit on my face.”

You hum, so high on cloud nine you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“Let me taste you.”

Your breath stutters. He’s serious. 

“Come here,” he’s pushing you up and off him before you have much of a chance to process it. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Your cheeks burn a hot shade of embarrassment, your tongue suddenly too heavy in your mouth. You wriggle up his body, guided by the relentless hands on the backs of your thighs. Steve’s eaten you out, but not like this. 

“Steve,” you manage. 

“What?” He knows you better than he’s known anyone in his life. He feels your shaking and he hears the rampant doubts coursing your mind. “I want to,” he promises, pressing a long, love-packed kiss to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You’re unconvinced. You’re certain you’ll break his face the second you sit down. You’ll be so mortified you’ll have to break up with him if he doesn’t first. You’ll have to sell the house before you’ve even unpacked–

“Please?”

He’s not trying to be pushy or even funny as he bats his eyes. He just so genuinely craves to see you unravel in the same way you’ve spun him around. And yeah, he has a sweet set of brown eyes. Sue him. He loves you too much to look at you with any less adoration. 

You nod emphatically. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this nervous about sex with Steve, but you’ve learned just about everything there is to know about him since. You trust him in every capacity, especially in bed.   

He nips his way up your thigh, pulling you lower and lower until his breath is hot on your cunt. Steve licks a wide stripe up to your clit, sucking before swirling his tongue around the sensitive hood. And then his mouth starts lapping you like you’re his last meal. 

Your fist jerks, fingers knotted through the hair on his scalp, and he moans. You don’t hear it over the wet smacking as much as you feel it, the vibrations sending pleasure through you like a pulse. 

His tongue drives you to a mess. He’d push you completely over the edge if you didn’t stop him.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, pushing up onto your knees. “We’re even.” 

He smirks and strokes down the backs of your calves. “Are we competing?” 

“You seem to think so.” 

He shimmies to a sit with an arm around your waist and bestows you with a fleeting kiss, lips washed with the taste of your juices. “Lay down.”

How the fuck could you say no to such a pretty face? 

You scooch down, face up on the sheets. Steve parts you by the ankles and crawls up your body, planting kisses like seeds. His teeth graze the inside of your wrist before he stretches it up and flat against the mattress above your head. 

Your fingers thread through his, his other hand steadying his cock at your entrance. He swipes the head up and down your wet folds before sliding in with a groan. There’s less resistance this time, a fluid in and out to his hips. 

His thrusts are languid. He indulges more closely in the taste of your mouth and the balmy feel of your waist. 

The winding in your tummy resumes, your fingers naturally finding your clit while Steve rocks into you. A heavier thrust and your lips detach, Steve’s rehoming to the skin beneath your jaw. He picks up his pace, puffing and panting into your neck in short bursts. 

Your legs wrap around his, the heel of your foot digging into his lower back. “Mm– Steve.”

“Yeah?” he huffs. 

“Mhmm.”

If the sounds you’re making are anything to go by, Steve thinks he’s doing a pretty good job. And you know he’s just as close to cumming. You know his little sounds and twisty little expressions like the back of your hand. How his stomach tenses and his breath catches. 

You burn the entirety of this to your brain, rubbing yourself faster, more in time with his movements. 

“‘M close,” he says, desperate and hopeful that you are too. 

You nod, focused on the high climbing higher each second. 

His hips stutter when you clench around him. The coil releases and you come undone simultaneously. 

“Fuck, ah– fuck,” he whines, sharp but breathy in your ear.  

Your fingers slow and his thrusts wane and the pleasure softens. Steve wobbles down onto you as gently as he can, taking your interlaced hand between your bodies. Your hearts kiss with each rise and fall of your chests. Steve mouths over the most accessible bit of skin under your ear, thumb sweeping the gentlest curves around your face. 

You exhale into his crown, raking a hand through the dark mop of curls damp at his nape. Your other eases down his back, savoring the contraction of his muscles as he breathes. You travel down the curve of his ass and give him a firm squeeze. “How’s your ass? Still sore?” 

He huffs at you, nose crushed to your neck. “I fall down one flight of stairs and I never hear the end of it.” 

“I told you to be careful.” 

“I was being– whatever.” His thumb continues to caress your jaw, his lips idle on your neck. 

This is Steve’s favorite part of sex. To hold and to be held, easing off a high that’s miles better than a good smoke. There’s nothing greater. 

“Should I check for bruises?” 

“If you kiss ‘em better.” 

Your chest aches with the sweet swell of laughter. Steve’s your person. You realize it time and time again. 

He peels himself off like you're double-sided tape. His hair’s still crazy despite your finger-combing and his eyes are just as heavy as they were when he woke up. He slides out of you with a hiss, sitting back to knot the condom and toss it toward a pile of bubble wrap. 

He looks back at you fondly. “Shower?” 

You shake your head. “Just lay with me.” 

“Downstairs isn’t gonna unpack itself, you know.”

“Shut up.” You palm his chest until he lays and you throw an arm across his middle. “This was your evil plan all along.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand to massage between both of his. “I’m just the worst aren’t I?” 

[sleepyhoon]

THREE WEEKS & THREE DAYS - P.SH

pairing. best friend's ex!sunghoon x reader

genre. best friend's ex au, halloween au, smut, angst (if you squint).

word count. 12.2k+

warnings. alcohol consumption, drug usage, partying, driving under the influence, toxic relationships, themes of divorce, brief mention of physical abuse, smut [car sex, use of handcuffs, oral, praise kink/dirty talk, creampie]

summary. a stressful night at a Halloween party has you seeking comfort from the last person you should be involved with — your best friend's ex.

a/n. HIGHLY HIGHLY inspired by season 2 episode 1 of euphoria! this is a work of pure fiction and is NOT a reflection of how i view the members. despite writing this story, i DO NOT condone the dangerous choices the characters in this fic make and DO NOT encourage others to do so! read at your own discretion.  also, very special thanks to @zreamy for beta-reading this for me!!

When you were six, you spent Halloween night lying on a hospital bed dressed as Hannah Montana.

Everything happened so fast; one moment, you were trick-or-treating with your father and younger sister while scarfing down a Snickers bar for the first time (a king-sized one at that), and the next, your dad was rushing you to the hospital in a panic, tears in his eyes as he encouraged you to stay awake in the backseat.

By the time you’d arrived at the hospital, your body had gone completely limp, and your father struggled to carry both you and your younger sister into the hospital lobby. From what you can remember, it was like a scene from a movie: seeing your dad cry for the first time, being wheeled into an unfamiliar bright room on a mobile bed, all while dressed as your favorite popstar.

The scariest part of the night was shortly after arriving at the hospital and catching a glimpse of your reflection, not recognizing the person staring back at you. The blonde wig and blue eye contacts were to be expected, but the swollen face and half-lidded eyes were another. Had you been able to breathe (let alone talk), you likely would’ve given your sister a classic Halloween jumpscare.

Your mother had arrived only a few minutes after you did, yelling at your father loud enough to have the hospital staff threaten to kick her out. “You forgot she was allergic to peanuts?! Where was her fucking EpiPen?!”

Your dad sighed, running a hand across his face, “I forgot to pick it up. I’ve been busy with…you know.”

She scoffs, “You don’t think I’ve been busy too?! Especially now that we have to meet with the divorce lawyer once a week?!”

Your ears perk up at that, “Divorce?”

You hadn’t known much about the true meaning of divorce, except that it’s something your friend’s parents had gone through, and now he gets two of everything. Two birthdays, two Christmases, two lives. So simple yet so perfect, what child wouldn’t dream of that?

Your parents, who hadn’t even known you were awake, silence themselves immediately. Tears quickly form in your mother’s eyes as she realizes they’d been caught, trying their best to keep the news of their divorce as quiet as possible, waiting for the right moment to explain to you and your sister, Yuna, the real meaning of it, and how different your lives would be.

It dawns on them that there’s no point trying to keep this secret any longer. You were a smart kid, it was probably only a matter of time before you found out on your own, anyway. 

All in one night, you managed to survive a near-death experience, only to be followed by the news of your parents’ divorce. And somehow, at twenty-three years old, watching Lee Heeseung flirt with random girls at a Halloween party is much worse than everything you experienced that cursed night in 2007.

“Can you at least pretend that you’re having a good time?!” You can barely hear Minjeong over how loud the music is, her words fading in and out as you take a sip from your cup.

“I am having a good time, isn’t it obvious?” you reply, showing Minjeong your best fake smile.

Grinning, Minjeong shakes her head at you. “Not at all. Here, need a refill?”

Without waiting for your response, Minjeong hops off the kitchen counter and snatches the red solo cup in your hand. You don’t bother protesting, sighing as you rest your weight against the marble countertop, while she adds a mix of different ingredients to your cup.

When she’s not looking, you tilt your head in the direction of the living room, hoping to get a glance at Heeseung through the sea of drunken college students.

The only word that can be used to describe your relationship with Heeseung is ‘unfortunate’. You were together for six months, and spent most of the time fighting, making up, and having sex. It was a relentless, tiresome cycle you allowed yourself to succumb to just for the sake of not having to be alone.

Most of the arguments would start with you questioning Heeseung’s loyalty, growing suspicious upon seeing his username pop up in the likes section of random girls on social media. In hindsight, it seems like a silly thing to get upset over. The entire purpose of social media was to connect and interact with others anyway, but, why was it always girls? And why would these girls suddenly start watching your stories?

Breaking up with him was harder than you could’ve imagined, and you’re sure you wouldn’t have been able to do it without Minjeong by your side, encouraging you through the entire process. 

The aftermath was embarrassingly excruciating. For two weeks, you locked yourself in your bedroom and fell into a cycle of sleeping and crying, occasionally taking breaks to eat or use the restroom. At one point, your phone spent a full forty-eight hours without being turned on at all, causing your loved ones to panic upon not being able to get ahold of you.

Slowly but surely you managed to build yourself back up, finally starting to feel like your old self when Heeseung suggested the two of you get back together.

You were hesitant, of course, telling Heeseung you were willing to work things out if he can prove to you he’s changed and ready to be the loyal, doting boyfriend he should’ve been from the start.

So no, you’re not together. But you’re also not not together. It’s confusing.

A football player is blocking your view of Heeseung (dressed as a cowboy), you have to stand on your tip-toes to catch a glimpse of him talking to — wait, who is that?

“Patrick would not stand for this.” Minjeong interrupts your thoughts, poking fun at your costume choice of a female Patrick Bateman.

You shrug, pretending to act clueless. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Minjeong rolls her eyes, shoving your cup back into your hand “Sure, you weren’t. Come on, cheers with me.”

“To what?” you ask, suspiciously eyeing the drink she’s just handed you. Minjeong isn’t that great of a cook, so you can imagine she’s not the best bartender either. In fact, it’d be best if she stayed far away from any sort of kitchen appliance.

She thinks for a moment then excitedly extends her cup out to you. “To getting over our shitty ex-boyfriends!”

Minjeong’s ex was Park Sunghoon, they dated on and off for a year and a half before calling it quits over the summer. You don’t remember the exact reason why they broke up, there were many different factors. It didn’t matter, they were bad for each other anyway and the relationship was entirely too toxic for either of their wellbeing. 

You don’t know much about Sunghoon aside from the things Minjeong felt comfortable enough to share with you and the fact that he is on the university’s hockey team with Heeseung. You’ve probably had a handful of conversations and interactions with Sunghoon in the entire time of knowing him, and are more than happy with things staying that way.

Holding your cup up high, you match Minjeong’s smile and tap your cup against hers. “To getting over our ex-boyfriends!”

The drink is disgusting. You quickly turn away so you don’t hurt your best friend’s feelings by gagging at the taste. She manages to down her entire cup while you make quick work of pouring a majority of yours down the sink behind you.

Minjeong stares down at her empty cup with wide eyes, licking the remains off her plump lips. “Holy shit, that was so good. Do you want more? I’m gonna make myself another cup.”

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you say, snatching your cup away when she reaches for it. Minjeong raises a brow at you, and you follow up with, “I should wait before having another drink.”

She nods understandingly, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back for coming up with that so quickly.

While she’s occupied with making another drink, your eyes trail back over towards Heeseung. The football player from earlier is gone, and now that your view is no longer obstructed, you watch in confusion as Heeseung now has this mystery girl by the waist, leaning his head down close to her lips as she whispers something in his ear.

This really is worse than Halloween 2007.

“Hey.” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She follows your line of sight, scowling when it lands on Heeseung. “YN, don’t make a big deal out of this. You guys technically aren’t even together.”

“Relax, I’m just going to say hi.” You assure her, moving to head towards Heeseung when Minjeong stops you with a hand on your chest. “Think about this, please.”

You sigh, using your free hand to clutch hers and slowly bring it down from your chest. “I’ll be fine. Be back soon so we can dance, okay?”

Minjeong knows she won’t be able to stop you once your mind is made up, all she can do is sigh and wish you the best as you make a beeline for your ex. Maybe not the greatest idea on your part, but you’re too tipsy to think rationally.

Heeseung doesn’t notice you when you first approach, it takes the mystery girl awkwardly gesturing in your direction for him to finally look over at you, immediately dropping his hand from the girl’s waist. “YN!” He shouts, a little too excitedly, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in an unfamiliar bedroom with Heeseung on step one of your toxic cycle — arguing.

“You’re overreacting,” Heeseung claims. “We were just talking.”

“About what, Heeseung? Why did you have to hold her by the fucking waist to talk to her?”

“Because! She was drunk! I was holding her up so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself!”

“Who gives a shit if she falls? She’s not your fucking girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you.” 

His words shouldn’t hurt as much as they do because he’s right; despite trying to work on things, you aren’t his girlfriend. You were the one who said you weren’t ready to get back together, not him. You shouldn’t be upset with him for talking to other girls.

And yet, here you are with tears in your eyes. 

You nod silently, avoiding his gaze as a lump forms in your throat. 

Heeseung must realize how much his words have affected you if the way he curses at himself, and shamefully runs a hand across his face is anything to go by. “Listen, I’m sor-”

“Don’t bother.” You stand from the bed, holding back a sob.“Everything about this was a mistake. You’ll never change.”

Heeseung reaches a hand out to grab your arm as you push past him. “YN, I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, Heeseung, you did mean it,” you say, pulling the bedroom door open.

There is no point in trying to reason with Heeseung. You know in a matter of time he’ll apologize, you’ll accept it like you always do, have make-up sex, then lecture him about how important it is that he changes before you can consider getting back together. Another endless cycle you’ve fallen into.

Stepping back into the party, you head in the opposite direction of where Minjeong would be, not wanting to run into her in your current state and bump right into someone dressed as Spiderman, causing the little remains of your drink to spill over and knock to the ground. You’re grateful that a crucial part of Patrick Bateman’s costume involved a plastic raincoat, or else your outfit would have suffered a dark blue stain.

“Oh my God, YN! I’m so sorry!” Spider-Man apologizes with a thick Australian accent.

“Jake?” You question, gesturing for him to take the mask off.

He follows your command, face bright red from embarrassment or alcohol. Probably both.

“Yeah, haha, hey. Really sorry about that, I can get you a new drink.” Jake turns in the direction of the kitchen before you stop him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine, Jake. Do you know where the bathroom is?”

Jake thinks for a moment, scratching at the small amount of stubble that’s graced his chin. He really does make a perfect Spider-Man, and if you weren’t so upset, you probably would’ve stayed and told him that.

“Upstairs, all the way down the hall. Wait! It’s occupied, people are doing coke in there, I think.”

Great.

You sigh. “Do you know if there’s another one I can use?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s one.” Jake turns, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “Right there. I saw a few people come in and out.”

Thanking Jake, you follow his direction and head to the door at the end of the hallway.

It’s a garage, not a bathroom. But, as long as you get a moment alone, you don’t really care where you are.

After shutting the door behind you, you sit on top of a washing machine and flinch at the cold metal sending chills down your thighs.

You shouldn’t have come out tonight, you don’t even care about Halloween to begin with. It’s an overrated holiday, you wish you would’ve convinced Minjeong to stay in with you and have a classic horror movie marathon while eating takeout and pausing to hand out (peanut-free) candy to trick-or-treaters.

Though, you’re sure you still would’ve spent the better half of the night obsessively tapping through Heeseung’s Instagram stories or trying to spot him in the background of someone else’s. It was a lose-lose situation no matter what, and you find yourself wondering if there’s an end to this unhealthy cycle.

Despite being so young when it happened, you’re sure your parents’ divorce obstructed your view of love and how a healthy adult relationship should work. Your father went on to have short-lived relationships with younger women who were using him for his money, while your mother remained single and chose to criticize her ex-husband’s current lifestyle choices. They couldn’t even co-parent in peace, always making petty comments to the other during drop-offs and pick-ups, finding any and every little thing to start arguing about.

One time in particular, after spending the weekend at your father’s house, your mother slapped him in a Dairy Queen parking lot upon realizing his new girlfriend had taken you and your sister to get your ears pierced. You didn’t actually see the slap happen, but it was loud enough to echo through the empty parking lot and hard enough to leave a red mark on his face.

The memory has tears forming in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, but before any of them have the chance to trickle down, the garage door swings open.

You turn, and Park Sunghoon (dressed as a police officer) is staring back at you with a confused look on his face. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before pointing in the direction of the party. “Uh, Jake said this was the bathroom.”

Shaking your head, you offer him a small smile. “No, the bathroom’s upstairs but it’s being used. If you really have to go, I’m pretty sure that door leads to the backyard.” You nod your head in the direction of the other door, and Sunghoon picks up on what you’re implying.

He thanks you before jogging over to the exit, setting his cup down on a metal dog crate before turning the knob and pushing open the door.

Sunghoon stands far enough out of frame that you only see a portion of his backside, and once the sound of him pissing on the grass hits your ears, you wonder why he didn’t bother to close the door in the first place.

Men.

He clears his throat awkwardly, “So, you s–”

You cut him off. “Let’s just wait until you’re done, please.”

Sunghoon nods, mumbling, “Right, right.”

He finishes up a few seconds later, zipping his pants back up and properly adjusting himself before returning to the garage, closing the door behind him and picking his drink back up in the process. “So, I’m guessing you’re…upset because of Heeseung?”

You let out a sad chuckle that sounds more like a sob. “Lucky guess. He’s just so fucking confusing, I can’t take it.”

“You’ll be alright,” Sunghoon responds, slipping his phone from his pants pocket and unlocking it. “Heeseung’s a douchebag.”

This catches you off guard, and you’re laughing before you even realize it. “Isn’t he your friend?”

Sunghoon shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at his phone as he scrolls. “Not really. We don’t talk much if it isn’t related to hockey or school.”

A beat of silence passes, then you ask, “When Heeseung and I were together, did he mention anything about cheating on me? Or talking to other girls?”

Sunghoon glances up at you for a split second, taking in how sad and hopeful you look before returning his gaze to the weather app he’d been using to distract himself.

He wasn’t sure if Heeseung went as far as physically cheating on you, but he was definitely talking to other girls behind your back; proudly showing the hockey team countless nudes and vulgar photos they would send him, some of them coming from your own friends. 

Sunghoon can’t tell you this, you’re upset enough as it is.

“I wouldn’t know, I always tuned him out whenever he talked.”

Though he’s not sure what answer you were hoping for, Sunghoon can tell you’re a little disappointed by his response. Truthfully, he didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s drama. If you wanted clarity from Heeseung, you should’ve gone straight to the source.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling slightly embarrassed that you probably made things awkward, “have you seen Minjeong?”

Your attempt to change the subject seems to work, because Sunghoon scoffs loudly at your question and shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Have I seen the girl that just spent ten minutes yelling at me? Yeah, we may have crossed paths.” He says sarcastically, shaking his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Yell at you? For what?”

“She fuckin’…I guess before we broke up she said I should dress up as a cop for Halloween and I must’ve said no, and now she’s saying I only dressed up like this,” he gestures towards himself, “to spite her. Fuckin’ insanity.”

“Well, did you?” You can’t help but ask, Minjeong would always go on for hours about how spiteful of a person Sunghoon was.

He shrugs, mindlessly tracing the rim of the red solo cup with his pointer finger, “Maybe, but this is all that was left in my size at the party store.”

You’re surprised Sunghoon makes you laugh as much as he does, and maybe that’s a bad thing since it’s making you enjoy talking to him. Though he technically isn’t your enemy, he’s definitely not a person you should enjoy having a conversation with. It’s not appropriate, he’s the ex boyfriend of your best friend; all your ties to him were cut the moment Minjeong broke up with him.

You should tell him to leave, that you’re really upset over Heeseung and prefer to be alone, but you don’t. Instead, you keep the conversation going, laughing every joke he makes and completely forgetting why you were upset to begin with.

Halfway through telling Sunghoon about the horrid drink Minjeong had prepared for you, your legs grow numb from having been sat on for so long. You untuck them from underneath your body, not thinking much of it as you continue on with the story, legs dangling against the cold washing machine.

Sunghoon takes notice, though, his eyes quickly darting down to the space between your legs and the white fabric that’s suddenly visible to him due to the short length of your skirt. You miss it the first time he does it, but the second and third time are hard to ignore, especially now that he doesn’t seem to mind being caught.

You really should cross your legs or call him out on his staring. Or maybe even get up and leave entirely.

To no one’s surprise you don’t do either of those things and opt to keep your panties visible enough for Sunghoon to see while you continue to talk his ear off about his ex-girlfriend. There’s something unspoken happening between the two of you, and it’s exciting yet confusing since this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him in the two years you’ve known each other. 

The strangest part of it all is that you’re just now realizing how attractive Sunghoon is, Sure, he’d always been a good looking guy, but you’d always seen him as Minjeong’s property and never paid much attention to his face out of respect for her.

But Minjeong no longer has a claim on him, and now you really notice the perfectly placed moles that graced the side of his nose and under his eye. He really was a sight to behold, you often find yourself stumbling over your words as you speak to him, becoming flustered over the intensity of the eye contact he’d been making with you.

“…my throat is still burning and it’s been, like, twenty minutes.” You say with a laugh, watching as Sunghoon finishes off his own drink.

He sets the empty cup down, licking the remaining alcohol on his lips before smacking them, “Yeah, I wouldn’t trust her in a kitchen. I’m not that good either, though. There was this one time I had to make brownies for our hockey team’s bake sale and they turned out awful. It’s like, half of them were watery and the other half were burnt. So weird.”

“That doesn’t even sound possible.”

“I’m serious! Hold on, I probably have a picture.” 

It takes Sunghoon approximately forty-five seconds of scrolling through his Snapchat memories to find a photo of those godforsaken brownies, and sure enough, they really are a watery, burnt mess. Not that you can even focus on the picture to begin with now that he’s sitting next to you on the washing machine, and you’re finally able to see him up close.

Sunghoon’s words go in one ear and out the other, because now you’re close enough to smell the cologne he’s dabbed on the back of his neck, and notice the metal handcuffs hooked in his belt loop, and it makes it hard to focus on anything else. Especially his uninteresting story about those stupid fucking brownies.

When Sunghoon locks his phone, you take it as a sign that he’s finished with his story and let out another laugh, “Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he jokes, slightly slurring his words. 

Maybe it’s the fact that his voice sounds deeper than usual, or that he’s staring right at you with half lidded eyes, or that he's started playing with the handcuffs on his waist, but Sunghoon looks dangerously attractive right now. 

You gulp, looking down at your lap, “Well, at least one of us had a nice drink.”

Sunghoon nods, running his fingernails along your plastic raincoat, “Wanna taste mine?” He asks, eyes darting down to your lips for a split second.

If there was ever a time to get up and leave, it should’ve been now. The rational part of your brain is telling you to push Sunghoon away and return to the party and forget this encounter with him ever happened. But you can’t move, and if you’re being honest, you don’t even want to.

You’re stuck in place, heart beating out of your chest as Sunghoon leans in closer to you. You feel dizzy in the best way possible, and a part of you feels sick for enjoying the moment as much as you do. 

His breath fans your cheek, and the faint scent of alcohol on it should’ve been enough to remind you that you shouldn’t be in this situation with him. Still, you don’t move.

Right before Sunghoon has the chance to kiss you, the door swings open and you jolt away from each other out of shock, clutching your chest as you watch Jake jog into the garage.

“You guys seen my vape?” he asks, a little out of breath.

“I…no, Jake. Why would it be in the garage?” Sunghoon asks, hopping down from the washing machine. He offers a hand to help you down and you ignore it, finally starting to come back to your senses.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know! It was just in my pocket and now it’s gone, it could be anywhere. Help me look!”

Spending your night in a garage helping Jake look for a strawberry-flavored vape doesn’t sound ideal in the slightest; now is the perfect time to leave.

Heading in the direction of the party, you pause when Sunghoon calls out your name, a slight shakiness to his voice. “Keep an eye out for me, yeah?”

Another beat of silence passes, then you nod and say, “Yeah.”

In your defense, there’s nothing to feel guilty over. All you did was have a conversation with Sunghoon, and keeping an eye out for him doesn’t necessarily mean anything else will happen, right?

You try not to think too much about it as you exit the garage, holding in a laugh when Sunghoon says something along the lines of, “You’re a grown ass man, Jake.”

What Minjeong lacks in cooking, she makes up for in dancing.

While you wouldn’t consider yourself to be on her level of dancing, you’d say you’re good enough to keep up with her at a crowded party. If swaying to the music, holding hands, and grinding on each other counts as dancing, that is.

“You’re too stiff; loosen up, babe,” she comments, fingers interlocked with yours.

“Sorry,” you reply, slightly frustrated since you don’t feel like dancing in the first place. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, yeah!” Minjeong turns to face you, moving your arms to drape them around her shoulders. “Then he said I was being crazy, and that he only got the costume because it was all that was left in his size, as if I believe that.”

“Sorry that happened,” you say, and it comes out more sarcastic than you had intended it to. 

Minjeong takes notice of this, raising a brow at you before slipping her arms under your raincoat and pulling you closer to her. “You okay?”

The two of you are pressed so close up against each other that it almost feels romantic, and you’re sure if there was another drink in your system you’d probably lean in and kiss her. 

You nod. “Just thinking about Heeseung.”

Fake offended, Minjeong’s jaw drops. “You’re dancing with the hottest girl at this party, and all you can think about is your ex? I’m hurt, YN.”

Truth be told, her ex was the one you were thinking about, certainly not your own.

Not a whole lot of time has passed since you left Sunghoon in the garage, but you make sure to keep your promise of keeping an eye out for him upon returning to the party. You’re certain that on the outside you probably look panicked and frantic, eyes darting all over the place for any sign of Sunghoon.

“Well,” Minjeong starts, tugging on your tie. “Since you’re thinking about your ex, it’s only fair that I think of mine; and there he is.”

You stop yourself from excitedly shouting, “Where?!” and watch as Minjeong subtly nods towards the staircase.

Sure enough, Sunghoon is leaning against the banister, eyes zeroing in on you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“He’s been watching me for, like, ten minutes. Probably wants to see if you and I will make out, fucking pervert,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Minjeong has it wrong, Sunghoon has been watching you for the past ten minutes. Ever since he finished helping Jake find that stupid vape, he’s had his sights set on you and you only.

That other part was probably true, though.

You swallow the lump in your throat and say, “Such a pervert.” It comes out a tad more robotic than you were going for, but you tried your best. 

Once Sunghoon is sure that Minjeong is distracted, he mouths, “Bathroom,” before immediately turning around and jogging up the steps.

Fuck, are you really about to do this? 

Your eyes dart from Minjeong to the staircase, and you can’t believe you’re even considering going upstairs to meet her ex. Everything about this predicament is sick and twisted and perfectly on brand for Halloween. 

But, somehow, it’s not sick enough to stop you.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get some air; I’m feeling kinda dizzy,” you lie, hoping it’s believable enough.

Minjeong stops dancing immediately, a look of genuine concern on her face. “Here, I’ll come with you.”

“No, no. You keep having fun, I’ll be back soon. Make another drink for me, okay? I’m sure I’ll need it,” you assure her with a smile, taking her hands into yours.

“Fine, I’ll be here. But the only drink I’m making for you is a Ginger Ale.”

Thank God.

After giving Minjeong a kiss on the cheek (feeling guilty as ever), you slip past her and head towards the direction of the backyard. Once Minjeong is fully out of sight, you switch paths and sprint up the staircase, bumping into and angering a few people along the way. 

You keep your head down once you reach the second floor, speed walking to the end of the hallway and avoiding eye contact with everyone you walk by until you reach the bathroom.

The door is closed and locked, of course, and that’s when it dawns on you that this could be one big, elaborate prank from Sunghoon. You could open the door and be met with a camera in your face with Sunghoon recording, laughing maniacally before mentioning something about telling Minjeong everything and that he stayed loyal to her the entire time.

Unfortunately for you, even that possibility doesn’t scare you away from knocking on the door and saying, “It’s me, YN.”

The knob twists before the door is pushed open, barely enough room to slide in discreetly, but you manage anyway.

Using your body weight to press the door shut, Sunghoon reaches behind you to make sure it’s locked. “You really came.”

You hate that he sounds shocked, as if he had some faith that you wouldn’t risk your friendship with Minjeong for a few minutes with him, of all people. He’s not even your type.

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

Sunghoon scoffs as if you’ve said the most obvious thing in the world. “Trust me, I won’t.”

You don’t have time to overthink the meaning of his words because before you can even realize it, Sunghoon is pushing you further up against the door, and he’s kissing you, finally kissing you.

This kiss is everything but soft, and it knocks the wind out of you. Sunghoon’s hand cups your jaw, tilting your head sideways to allow himself further into your mouth. It’s wet and sloppy, you’re certain that dancing with Minjeong was far more romantic than this. You kiss back anyway, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and grabbing a fistful of his hair, shivers running down your spine when he groans into your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon reaches down to slip the raincoat off of you, pressing your body closer against him to ease it off. 

He pulls away slowly, his blown-out eyes focused on the string of saliva that connects your mouths to one another. “Fuck,” he groans at the sight, moving his mouth to kiss along your jaw.

You let out a moan when you feel his tongue slide against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, tilting your head back against the door. Sunghoon takes notice of this, focusing his attention on that same spot, sucking on it hard enough to leave a mark before teasingly scraping his canines along the area.

Quickly, your fingers move to unbutton your shirt, suddenly feeling warm all over. You’re only halfway done when there’s a sudden banging on the other side of the door, startling you enough to halt your movements.

“Ignore it,” Sunghoon mutters against your neck. “They’ll go away.”

They don’t go away, they actually start to bang louder and harder once a few seconds pass.

Sunghoon lets out a frustrated sigh, lifting his head away from you, “Occupied!”

“Sunghoon?” You hear Minjeong’s voice on the other side of the door, causing you and Sunghoon both to freeze.

“M-Minjeong?” He stutters.

“I have to piss,” Minjeong whines, messing with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

Sunghoon must sense your panic and the fact that you feel like bursting into loud sobs, because he places his hand over your mouth before mouthing for you to stay quiet.

Minjeong doesn’t let up on trying to open the door, and you’re sure that with just enough force, she could probably get it open.

“I’m using it! Can’t you just go outside?”

“I’m a fucking girl, Sunghoon. Just hurry up and finish.”

“Just…just hold on a second, Minnie.”

Minnie? Fuck is that about?

Sunghoon pulls you away from the door, keeping his voice and movements as low as possible. “You’re gonna have to hide in the bathtub, just lay down flat and wait for her to leave.”

“What?! What if she sees me?!” You whisper, silently praying Minjeong can’t hear you over the music.

“She won’t, okay? I’ll pull the shower curtain back. It’s the only option we have right now unless you want to jump out the window.”

You shake your head. “There has to be a better idea.”

On the other side of the door, Minjeong begins to grow impatient, anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. She’s had three full drinks and is on the verge of busting the bathroom door down if Sunghoon doesn’t open it soon. She focuses her gaze downward, raising a brow at a piece of plastic that’s been slightly pushed under the crack of the door. What is it? A shower curtain? It can’t be, why would the shower curtain be on the floor? It looks more like…

“Fuck! The cops!” A drunk voice yells before the entire house panics, sirens and flashing blue and red lights fill the house.

Inside the bathroom, Sunghoon had still been trying to convince you to lay down in the bathtub when even more panic sets in.

Minjeong bangs on the door one last time. “Sunghoon, the cops are here, you need to leave! Fuck, I gotta find YN!” She yells before taking off down the hall.

Police officers are raiding the house, and all Minjeong can focus on is finding you and making sure you're okay, while you were seconds away from hooking up with her ex. What a fucking nightmare.

“We gotta jump out the window,” Sunghoon says, hurrying over to the other side of the bathroom and forcing the window open.

“What?! Why?!”

“People are doing fucking illegal drugs at this party, YN, and now the fucking cops are here. My dad works for the city and if-” He pauses to grunt, struggling to get the window all the way open. “-news spreads that his son was at a house party that was full of people doing fucking cocaine his career will be fucking over. Fuck!”

This doesn’t explain why you have to jump out of the window with him, but you narrow it down to the possibility of Sunghoon just wanting to be around you for a little longer. And as pathetic as it sounds, you find yourself smiling at the possibility.

Sunghoon finally gets the window fully open, quickly hiking one leg over. “It’s not that far of a jump, we’ll be fine. I’ll go first then let you know when to jump.”

“You’ll catch me?” you ask, buttoning your shirt back up. Now that the raincoat is gone, you probably resemble a perverted schoolgirl costume.

Sunghoon sighs. “Yes, YN, I am going to catch you. Just be ready to run, my car’s down the street.”

He doesn’t give you any time to protest before hiking his other leg out the window and jumping down; you watch in horror as he lands face down. If it weren’t for your current predicament, you’re sure you would’ve gotten the ick.

It takes Sunghoon a few seconds to get back up, brushing himself off before standing, “Come on! Hurry!”

Despite your hesitancy, you follow Sunghoon’s action and hike a leg out of the window, staring down at him. “Are you sure about this?!”

“If you want me to catch you, you better jump now!”

Halloween fucking sucks.

You swear to yourself as you hike your other leg out of the window, saying a quick prayer as you brace yourself to jump.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly catch you, but he does brace your fall, which is good enough for you. 

He groans in pain from the impact as you stand and dust yourself off, reaching a hand down to help him up. “Sorry!”

Sunghoon stands, feeling a tad bit dizzy and lightheaded. “Just follow me.”

It isn’t too late to turn around and find Minjeong and just leave with her. In fact, it’d be the morally correct thing to do in this situation. Not that you seem to care for morals.

You make a mental note to send Minjeong a text later as you run after Sunghoon.

Sunghoon is not that great of a driver, but this doesn't surprise you.

He's still somewhat tipsy, occasionally swerving along the empty back roads.

What makes it worse is that Minjeong has been calling and texting you nonstop, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket as you ignore her relentless attempts.

Sunghoon is trying his hardest to stay focused on the road, but your phone ringing every few minutes was really starting to irritate him. "Just fucking answer her," he says, shaking his head.

"And say what? That I'm with you?"

Sunghoon isn't too pleased with your sarcasm and rolls his eyes, "Obviously not, YN; just do something to make her stop panicking."

That's way easier said than done, especially considering that you can barely even think about Minjeong without wanting to burst into tears. The guilt has already started to set in, and it has you questioning yourself and your morals.

You can't talk to Minjeong; it's too risky, but you can call your sister and ask her to cover for you.

Slipping your phone from your pocket, you force your eyes to unfocus and ignore the string of missed calls and messages from Minjeong, dialing your sister's phone number with trembling hands.

As always, Yuna answers on the fourth ring, sighing loudly into the phone before greeting you with a monotonous, "Hello?"

"Hey, um, I need you to help me with something," you keep your voice low, not wanting Sunghoon to hear your conversation despite being right next to him.

Yuna sighs again, "With what, YN?"

"The party I was at got raided by the cops, and we all ran, so if Minjeong calls you, I need you to tell her I'm with you," you say, your eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets when Sunghoon makes a sudden sharp turn.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You hate that even now, you find him cute.

"Well, where are you?" Yuna asks, snapping you back to reality.

"I… it's not important, just please do me this favor."

Your sister scoffs, "You expect me to lie for you, and you can't even tell me the full story?"

"The full story isn't important, Yuna."

"Clearly, it is if you're asking me to lie to your best friend."

"Just tell her," Sunghoon groans, sounding slightly annoyed, "but make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

Yuna doesn't have many friends, and the few she does have wouldn't even care about your drama, so it's not like she'd have anyone to share your business with. You hesitate anyway because of the principle of the situation, how just ten minutes ago you were unbuttoning your shirt for your best friend's ex. Maybe you're starting to come back to your senses because replaying the scene in your head has you cringing from embarrassment.

You lean your head against the window and squeeze your eyes shut, "I'm with Sunghoon."

The line goes silent for a few seconds, and you're worried you may have lost service from driving in such a rural area until Yuna sighs for a third time, "The pretty ones are never that bright."

"I swear it isn't like that," you plead, "just, please, help me out."

"And what will I get out of this?"

Of course, she wants something, classic younger sibling bullshit.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I don't know…a normal older sister?"

"Yuna, I don't have time for this, will you help me or not?"

Bickering with Yuna was starting to give you a headache; you were seconds away from hanging up and coming up with a new plan entirely.

"After tonight, don't involve me in this anymore; I have my own shit to deal with."

You hold back a laugh at that as if Yuna does anything other than stay home and talk to the same two people. "I won't, I swear. I'll text you when I'm close to being home; let me know if Minjeong reaches out to you."

"Whatever, just get home safe and don't do anything else stupid," Yuna says through a yawn before immediately hanging up, not giving you the chance to say goodbye.

As much as you loved your sister, the two of you weren't exactly close. The divide started sometime during high school; your interests and friend groups never really aligned and only led you to stray further away from each other.

You being fairly well-known within your high school didn't help much, either. Countless random students would approach Yuna on the daily, asking if you were seeing anyone, begging her for your number, or even giving her small gifts and treats to pass along to you. 

What annoyed her the most was that they never called her by her name, in their eyes, she was always known as "YN's sister", and nothing more than that.

You're sure Yuna doesn't hate you because of it, but it certainly didn't make her very fond of you.

"What'd she say?" Sunghoon asks, interrupting your thoughts.

"She agreed to cover for me tonight," you respond, gazing out the window, "pretty sure she's pissed, though."

"She'll get over it," Sunghoon taps the navigation system on his dashboard, "type in your address."

Despite making you jump out of a bathroom window, Sunghoon technically doesn't owe you anything. He never claimed he'd bring you back to his place to finish what you started; you quite literally only jumped because he told you to, under the pretense that maybe — just maybe — he'd want to hook up with you. 

Clearly, that wasn't happening, at least not tonight. Having to jump out the window and then proceed to drive while tipsy must've knocked some sense into him, making him realize he'd been making way too many questionable choices all in one night. 

You let out a disappointed sigh, hesitantly reaching out to type your home address into the car's GPS. The system buffers for a few seconds as it calculates the quickest route to your home before displaying an estimated travel time of thirty-eight minutes.

"Forty fucking minutes?!" Sunghoon shouts, causing you to jump. 

He sighs, cursing under his breath before reaching forward and ending the navigation route. You sit up further in the seat, ready to ask Sunghoon what he's plotting before he starts typing "7/11".

You raise a brow at this, "Why're we going there?"

Sunghoon gestures towards the navigation system as if the answer is obvious, "Your house is forty minutes away, and I'm still kinda tipsy; I'm gonna need to pull over and get something other than alcohol in my system if I'm gonna be driving for that long." There's a slight slur to his words that had you weary about him driving, so pulling over to recharge isn't a bad idea.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Sunghoon managed to safely drive the two of you to the nearest 7/11, opting to pay seventeen dollars to park in a parking garage down the street instead of the shop's personal lot.

"This neighborhood isn't that safe; I don't want anyone breaking into my car," he claims, taking up two spots as he parks in the most secluded corner possible.

The neighborhood is fairly safe; he was just being dramatic.

The walk down the street is quick and slightly awkward, with you and Sunghoon stumbling every few steps yet refusing to hold onto the other for stability.

The two of you go your separate ways upon entering the shop, Sunghoon headed straight towards the snack aisle while you make your way to the slurpee machines. The difference in your priorities was humorous, with him wanting to focus on building up energy and you wanting nothing more than a quick sugar fix.

Blue raspberry isn't necessarily your go-to flavor, but it's the only flavor on the Slurpee machine that's currently working, so you fill your plastic cup to the brim before absentmindedly reaching for a straw.

Sunghoon is still prancing around the store by the time you've finished making your drink, and despite not being that hungry, you decide to kill time by strolling through the snack aisles.

The Snickers bars and Reese's Cups look tempting as always, but you refrain, sighing as you look over the selection of peanut-contaminated candy.

"Don't even bother," Sunghoon says from behind you, causing you to gasp in shock. 

He pauses for a moment, staring at the array of snacks before grabbing a pack of Skittles and walking off.

The thought of Sunghoon being aware of your peanut allergy is as comforting as it is strange. You can't imagine this is something Minjeong randomly decided to tell him, and even if that is the case, why would he bother retaining that information? It's not like the two of you are friends.

Whatever, you're probably thinking about it too much.

After deciding on a package of powdered mini donuts and Haribo gummy bears, you proceed to the checkout counter and set your items down, looking over your shoulder at Sunghoon, who was selecting the last of his items.

The man behind the counter smiles at you, typing his employee ID number into the cash register, "How's your night going?"

"Horrible," you say, making the clerk laugh even though you weren't joking.

"Sorry to hear that," he responds, scanning your items, "your total came out to…$6.12. Oh, hello, officer."

Despite not having done anything wrong, you nearly panic before remembering Sunghoon's unfortunate costume choice.

He nods at the man, setting his own items down on the counter, "Add these too. You guys take Apple Pay?" He asks, unlocking his phone.

"Oh, you don't have to pay for mine," you say, a nervous tremble in your voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, "No big deal."

Except it is a big deal. Sunghoon behaving like a boyfriend gentleman by paying for your items only made you like him even more, which is the exact opposite of what you need right now.

You sigh, taking a literal and metaphorical step back as Sunghoon taps his phone on the card reader. 

"A cop and a schoolgirl, huh? These couple's costumes are starting to make less and less sense," the employee comments, eyes darting between you and Sunghoon. 

"We're not a couple," Sunghoon responds, a little too quickly for your liking, but whatever.

The employee apologizes, embarrassed about his implications as he bags your items and wishes the two of you a safe trip home.

On the way back to Sunghoon's car, it dawns on you that Minjeong has stopped trying to get ahold of you, which is slightly worrisome considering that she's a person who wouldn't give up that easily. 

Sunghoon climbs into the backseat this time, mumbling something about needing to rest and stretch out before driving you home. He sets the bag down on the center console, grabbing a few of his items before propping himself up against the door.

You do the same, retrieving your own items from the bag before slumping into your seat. 

When you finally unlock your phone, a new voice memo from Yuna is waiting for you. Hesitantly, you hold your phone against your ear and hit play.

Yuna lets out a loud sigh, "So, you and Minjeong must have some sort of, like,  telepathic connection because she called me as soon as I hung up on you. Anyways, I told her our cousin was also at the party and was able to, uh, give you a ride home once the cops came. Oh, and I told her your phone died and that you'd call her, um,  later or in the morning. I'm not sure if she believed it, but she calmed down.

And, by the way, I meant it when I said I don't want to be involved in whatever this is after tonight. So, for everyone's sake, if something serious is going on, do not tell me about it. Get home safe."

You're not entirely sure if you deserve a sister like Yuna, who'd go against her own morals just to cover for you, but you're grateful you have her.

you [11:54 pm] : *you liked a voice memo*

you [11:54 pm] : thanks so much

you [11:55 pm] : i promise i wont involve u anymore. if minnie calls again u can just ignore it and lmk please

yuna [11:56 pm] : oh and she told me to let you know that she's safe. tho im sure that's not your biggest concern :/

Harsh but true.

You set your phone on your lap and tear open your pack of donuts, wiping away the powdered sugar that falls onto your blouse. Much like the blue raspberry slurpee, mini powdered donuts weren't exactly your go-to snack, but your options were limited, and you weren't in the mood to roam around the store any longer.

Suddenly, Sunghoon groans from the backseat and sits up, "Phone died."

Leaning over the center console, he plugs his phone into the car charger right underneath his navigation system, resting it on the dashboard before returning to his seat. 

The car falls silent, and as much as you want to start a conversation, you're not sure where to begin. There's so much you want to ask, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue so hard you're surprised the taste of blood doesn't fill your mouth.

Sunghoon leans forward again, this time resting his cheek on the side of your seat, "What'd you get?" he asks, staring down at your lap.

You turn your head to look at him, holding up the half-eaten pack of donuts for him to see.

"Can I have one?" he asks, already holding his hand out before you could even say yes.

You hand him one regardless, watching the powder fall from the pastry as he pops it into his mouth.

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you find yourself narrowing your eyes at him as you ask, "Sunghoon, can I ask you something?"

He nods, gesturing towards the remaining donuts in a way that tells you he wants more. You hand him the remaining three, nodding back when he mumbles "Thanks" under his breath.

"How did you know that I'm allergic to peanuts?"

Sunghoon pauses, brows furrowing in utter confusion as he looks up at you, "What do you mean?"

"Earlier in the store, I was looking at the peanut candy, and you told me not to bother. I'm assuming you must've known I'm allergic, right?" You ask, fully turning around in your seat to face him.

"Um…yeah. I know."

"Okay…how?"

"I mean, was it supposed to be a secret or something?"

"What? No, of course not. Allergies are probably the one thing that shouldn't be kept secret," you respond, "I'm just curious about how you know. I don't think I've ever told you, and I can't imagine Minjeong randomly deciding to tell you."

Sunghoon awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he avoids looking at you. It takes the tips of his ears turning pink for you to realize that he's embarrassed, which only confuses you even further.

Sunghoon shrugs, staring down at the snack you've just given him, "Whenever all of us would hang out, and there was, like, food involved, I just noticed you'd pay so much attention to the ingredients of whatever it was you were eating. At first, I thought it was a calorie thing, but you never really asked about the calories, only the ingredients."

"But, how'd you know it was peanuts specifically?" you ask, feeling embarrassed about how curious you were over something as silly as a peanut allergy.

"Remember the hockey team bake sale? The one I made those terrible brownies for?" He asks, continuing when you nod, "You were there, and I remember how excited you were to try the cookies that Jake made, but right before you bought one, you asked him if there were peanuts in them. That's when I knew."

You can't remember the last time someone had paid this much attention to you, and it's dangerous, considering how easily impressed you are by the smallest things. Sunghoon was by no means a friend of yours; you hardly knew anything about each other and often kept your interactions rather short, so his being able to pick up on your peanut allergy just by watching you was … different. Maybe even nice.

You don't even realize you've been staring at him until he stops chewing and stares back, unblinking.

You look away, retrieving your Slurpee from the cup holder and taking a long sip as Sunghoon watches.

"Can I ask you something now?" he asks.

You don't respond, side-eyeing him as you continue to sip your drink.

Sunghoon smirks, amused by your sudden silence, "Why'd you meet me in the bathroom?"

You pull the straw away from your lips, voice barely above a whisper as you respond, "To see what you wanted."

He nods, taking the cup from your hands, "You knew what I wanted," he says, pausing to take a sip of your drink, "and you still came; why?"

When you don't respond, Sunghoon lets out a loud sigh and sets your cup back down in its holder, "It's okay, YN."

"It isn't."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I guess we'll never know, huh?"

This is a test of your morals, and Sunghoon knows this. Every decision you've made tonight has led you to this exact moment. There's still enough time to redeem yourself and make an excuse for your actions. You could easily lie and say that making out with Sunghoon was just a result of being tipsy and vulnerable. But now, with the two of you in his car, sobering up and coming back down to your senses, you won't be able to use those same excuses.

Realistically speaking, what are the chances of your ex's finding out? Heeseung probably wouldn't care, but Minjeong was an entirely different story.

In your defense, they've been officially broken up for three weeks and three days, so you wouldn't technically be hooking up with her boyfriend. Right?

Sunghoon must've sensed the gears turning in your head because, after a few seconds of staring at each other in silence, he leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss is softer this time, nothing like how it was in the bathroom as if he's trying to coax you in and convince you it's okay, that you're doing nothing wrong.

You find yourself slipping under his spell, eyes finally fluttering shut as he gently swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. The faint taste of alcohol is still on his tongue, but he does taste much sweeter now, like the blue raspberry slurpee he'd just had. A part of you wonders if he'd done that on purpose as if tasting better would make you enjoy kissing him like this.

He pulls away, scooting farther back into his seat, "C'mere, climb over."

You do as you're told, slipping off your shoes with Sunghoon guiding you right onto his lap as you climb into the backseat. You can't help but squirm on his lap, and he can still sense a slight hesitancy in your actions, the way you shiver when he touches you, how you initially pulled back when he tried to kiss you again.

"You're nervous," he comments, eye flickering across your face.

You shrug, holding onto his shoulders for support, "I can't help it."

Beneath you, Sunghoon reaches down to unclip the handcuffs from his belt loop, "You're making it hard to focus."

"The fuck am I supposed to do, then?!" You didn't mean to shout, but your patience was starting to run thin. You felt guilty enough as it is, and Sunghoon reminding you of how nervous you are certainly didn't make it any better.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, undoing the handcuffs before grabbing your left hand. He tightens the cuff around your wrist, "Just trust me," he says simply. He sits up further in his seat, grabbing your cuffed wrist as he pulls down on the car's grab handle. He slips the empty cuff through the slot before gesturing for you to give him your free hand.

Fuck.

"Sunghoon…"

"Just trust me," he doesn't wait for a response, grabbing your wrist and bringing it up towards the empty cuff. It locks around your wrist with a click, causing him to smile in satisfaction. 

You're sure that with just the right amount of force, you could easily snap the handcuffs in half, but it's the thought that counts. With your arms and hands restricted towards the ceiling, all you can do is stare down at Sunghooon and await his next movement, his very calculated movement.

He presses his cold lips against your neck, simultaneously using his hands to slowly unbutton your blouse. The mark he'd left on your neck earlier was as prominent as ever, and it pleased him to know you were okay with him marking you up like this. He swipes his tongue against the sensitive spot, hardening in his pants when you squirm on top of him. 

His nails trace along the bare skin of your waist once he's finished unbuttoning your blouse, your bralette — that was a few sizes too small — fully on display for him. He's practically salivating at the site, his tongue sliding across his canines, completely in awe of your breasts spilling out of the flimsy, white material.

Sunghoon can't unclasp and slide off your bra, or else it'd be awkwardly hanging in the air, and trying to slip it through the handcuffs would take too much effort. Instead, he apologizes under his breath before his hands reach the front of your bra.

"Wait, Sunghoon—!"

Without warning, he stretches the fabric until it finally rips, seemingly pleased with himself if the cocky smirk is anything to go by. "Relax," he says, "I'll buy you a new one."

You don't have time to scold him because before you can even process what's happening, Sunghoon's tongue is swirling around your nipple. You swear at the sudden contact, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his face. It's almost embarrassing how such a simple act already had your head spinning.

His hands trail downward until they reach the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it upwards until it's bunched around your waist. He traces the tip of his finger across your clothes cunt, pleased with how wet you've already gotten without having done much.

Your hips buck up into his hands on instinct, desperate for the friction, borderline craving it.

Sunghoon releases your perked bud in his mouth, looking up at you as he asks, "You want me to stop?"

"No, please don't." You beg.

"So this is okay then, right?"

If your wrists weren't handcuffed to the grab handle, you're sure you would've reached down and choked him for all the teasing. "Yes, Sunghoon, it's okay! Just hurry up and do something!"

Sunghoon shakes his head at you, mumbling, "So impatient." as he moves to lie flat on his back.

You stare down at him, confused, when he doesn't immediately start undoing his pants but instead positions his head right between your thighs.

It's funny, Minjeong claimed Sunghoon wasn't really into giving head and only gave it to her a handful of times during the course of their relationship, claiming he preferred to save it for special occasions.

But yet, here he is, willingly pushing your thighs further apart before pressing his lips against your clothed cunt.

The action sends shivers down your spine, and the handcuffs around your wrist suddenly feel tighter. He presses his tongue flat against you, groaning at the taste of your slick that's soaked through your panties. You grind down on him instinctively, your body trembling with anticipation as you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Fuck." You whisper, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration.

The sound of the metal clinking makes Sunghoon chuckle, pressing a final kiss against your damped underwear before mumbling, "Cute."

He makes quick work of sliding your underwear off your legs, tossing them to the 

front seat with a grunt as you wait for him to continue. Sunghoon settles himself between your thighs again, groaning in annoyance as you hover over him. "Stop fucking hovering," he demands, attempting to pull you down directly onto his face, "it's fine."

It's too intimate; you've never even sat on Heeseung's face before, and you're sure this isn't something he's done with Minjeong.

"But, I don't wanna cru- fuck!"

Sunghoon dismisses your worries, forcing you down onto his face and instantly wrapping his lips around your clit. You barely have any time to process that this is completely new territory for you, being this intimate with a man, sitting right on his face while he drags his tongue along your cunt; gathering your wetness and dragging it up towards your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan at that, leaning your head against the cold window as your face heats up. This only encourages Sunghoon even further, and his confidence grows, feeling bold enough to tease the tip of his tongue into your hole.

You jolt up at this, biting back a moan and wishing you could reach down and grab a fistful of his hair and properly ride his face. He licks another stripe up your folds, gripping your thighs and holding your body in place when you try to squirm away. 

"Stop trying to run from me," he groans into your pussy, the vibrations from his voice sending a shiver across your body. 

He presses his face further into your cunt, moaning at how much wetter you've gotten since he's started. For a man who apparently wasn't one to eat a girl out, he sure did seem desperate and eager to have you come on his face. In fact, it almost seemed as if he was doing it for his own pleasure rather than yours, which only turns you on even more.

After a few more slides of his tongue, you finally feel your orgasm approaching, your thighs tensing around Sunghoon's head.

"I know you're close," he whispers, placing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, "go ahead, use me. I know you want to."

He's practically begging at this point, big, wet eyes staring up at you in pure adoration as he sucks your clit back into his mouth. That's your breaking point, the knot in your stomach finally untying itself as your orgasm washes over you.

You let out a moan so loud that your throat hurts shortly afterward, your wrists going limp in the handcuffs as you ride out your high.

Sunghoon doesn't let up until you're practically shaking from overstimulation, your body naturally twitching and squirming away from his greedy mouth as he cleans you up. He pulls away finally, his mouth and chin completely coated with your slick as he leaves a trail of kisses on your bare thighs.

You can't help but stare down at him in awe; he looks completely dazed as if he's running off, nothing but pure desperation and lust for you. You.

"Sunghoon," you say, trying to get his attention, "I…do you keep condoms in here?"

He flutters his eyes open, shaking his head, "No, but 7/11's just down the street. I can go-"

You interrupt him with a shake of your head, "I don't wanna wait; we don't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm on the pill. Just, please, fuck me already."

It's music to his ears, really.

Sunghoon slides himself back up the seat, reaching up to release you from the handcuffs. You groan at this, having gotten used to them and quite frankly enjoyed the temporary feeling of restriction.

"You liked the cuffs?" Sunghoon questions, dropping your wrists from the grab bar.

"Yeah," you admit, "I liked it more than I thought I would."

He nods at this, and you realize now that one of the cuffs is still clasped around your wrist. Sunghoon also notices this and smirks as an idea forms in his head. "Turn around."

You comply with no further questions, groaning when he suddenly pushes your body down into the seat. He brings your arms behind your back, handcuffing you once more as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. "I knew you'd like it."

Sunghoon pushes your skirt back up, straddling himself around your things after pulling his pants and boxers far enough to allow his cock to spring free. He steadies himself with a hand on your shoulder, using the other to teasingly drag his fully-hardened cock across your slick folds.

Sunghoon shivers at this, cursing at the sight as he repeats his movements. He knows he won't last much longer; he was practically seconds away from coming in his boxers just from eating you out, so he really should quit with the teasing for his own sake.

Minjeong had never allowed him to fuck her without a condom, so this type of intimacy was new and overwhelmingly good.

He finally pushes himself into you, his tip alone causing you to bite down on the leather of his seat. You already felt so full, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

"Ah fuck," he groans, "you're so tight, you're so…fuck." He can barely even form a sentence, biting down on his bottom lip as he further inches himself inside of you.

You're not doing any better, feeling as if you're already seconds away from your second orgasm when he's hardly even done anything. It takes a minute before he's fully inside of you, pausing before he leans down and asks, "Can I move?"

"Please, I need you to."

Sunghoon nods at this, pressing a kiss against your ear before sitting himself back up. He angles your hips off the seat but presses your chest further into it, giving you (and himself) the perfect arch to comfortably slide in and out.

The first few thrusts are slow, as expected, but just enough to get you used to his size. Even this was all too much for Sunghoon; he was already dangerously close to his orgasm.

He didn't intend on speeding up his thrusts already, but he really can't help it. Everything about this feels too good. The way your walls perfectly wrap around him, and the way you're moaning and cursing for him to keep going are overwhelmingly good.

"Fuck." He moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses you down further into the backseat. He pulls his cock all the way out before pushing himself back in, which you seem to enjoy. He does it a few more times, mostly to humor himself since it's something he assumed you would've been annoyed by.

"Sunghoon," you pant, "I'm close."

"Already?" He asks, pushing your hips downwards until you're lying flat on your stomach.

He tries to come off as cocky and frustrated, but he really is grateful you're already so close to your orgasm, seeing that he felt like he could burst at any given second.

You nod, "Please, keep going."

He doesn't respond, opting to remain silent as you pull his cock out of you before ramming it back in at a pace much harder and faster than before. His thrusts are sloppy and borderline desperate, the sound of skin slapping and grunts filling the air shortly afterward.

The two of you could hardly keep your eyes open, too lost in the pleasure of your approaching orgasms.

Your's hits first, and Sunghoon's follows shortly after, practically filling you up to the brim with his cum. You've never felt so full and warm, heat spreading through your entire body as you slowly calm down and regulate hour breathing.

Sunghoon doesn't feel like moving, but he does anyway, slipping himself out of you with a wince, watching his cum drip out of you and onto the seat of the car. He curses at the sight, stopping himself from leaning forward and eating it out of you.

He undoes both of the handcuffs this time, helping you sit up as you avoid eye contact with each other. "Hold on," he says, re-adjusting his pants and boxers, "I should have a towel or something in the trunk."

Sunghoon steps out of the car, returning a minute later with a towel in hand. He leans down, prepared to clean you up, until you stop him, "It's okay, I got it."

He shakes his head, "I can do it for you."

"It's fine," you say, buttoning up your shirt, "I'd prefer to do it myself, actually."

Sunghoon finally gives in, handing you the towel before leaning over the center console and retrieving your panties from the passenger seat. He waits patiently for you to finish up, instructing you to just drop the towel on the floor as he hands you your underwear.

"Hey, have you…do you think you've sobered up yet?" He asks, watching as you slip your panties back on.

"Yeah, why?"

"Before I met you in the bathroom, I took a few bites of an edible, and I think it's starting to kick in. I think you should drive."

You sigh, mostly because this was not at all what you'd been hoping he'd say. "Drive where? To your place? Then where would I go?"

"I can pay for your Uber home."

"Sunghoon, it's past midnight, and I'm a girl; taking an Uber this late is too dangerous."

"Then drive back to your place; I'll sleep in the car and drive off in the morning."

You groan, "No, Minjeong might visit me in the morning. What'll she think when she sees your car in my driveway?"

"Dammit, YN, then just spend the night at my place. You can take my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch; just please drive us somewhere, for fuck's sake."

Bickering with Sunghoon somehow doesn't annoy you; in fact, it feels almost domestic. Going back and forth like a real couple.

"Fine." You say, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sunghoon's phone falls off the dashboard in the process, now charged at twenty-eight percent, and apparently, a missed text from Minjeong that was sent a few minutes ago.

The jealousy that fills your chest is downright abnormal; Minjeong is your best friend; there's no real reason for you to feel jealous of her in the first place. 

In fact, you shouldn't feel any sort of guilt at all; it's not like they're still together. They've been broken up for three weeks and three days. 

Three weeks. And Three days.

[aireia]

LOVE... YOU'RE DRUNK. — In which Jing Yuan decides to ask you to marry him while he's drunk out of his mind.

tw/cw: gn! reader, drinking/ alcohol consumption, mild crack, overall so fluffy my teeth are rotting. Beta read? What's that? OOC.

note: Rewritten// reposted from my old account (@ rrxaiky)

“Marry me.” 

“Jing Yuan, love, you’re drunk,” you sighed, taking a small sip of the drink you had ordered. Your lover had one of your hands trapped between his own, and had asked you to marry him with full confidence in his voice. When you opened your eyes to look at him again, you could see the sadness in his eyes, feeling rejected… Before you even rejected him. He let out a yawn and placed his head on your shoulder, letting go of your arms before he circled his own around your waist.

“Look, Yuan- I’m not saying I don’t want to marry you, but you’re not in your right mind right now, so let’s talk about it in the morning, yea?” you gently pulled away from him, carefully setting your drink down before patting his head and ruffling his hair. 

Jing Yuan, however, didn’t seem too happy with your response. He placed his hand on his chest, and dramatically sighed. “You’re quite a cruel lover, my dear. Tell me,” he slurred into your ear, his tiredness slowly getting to him. “Would you marry me if I weren’t drunk?” You spared him a glance and noticed his now half lidded eyes, usually a sign he was about to fall asleep on you and make it your problem.

You pretended to think for a while before responding. “Maybe.” Your response made him frown a little, which earned a chuckle from you. “Okay, okay, fine, I will. Let’s go home,” you added, not wanting this conversation to last until the effects of alcohol wore off. You quickly finished your drink and paid your tabs off before half dragging him out of the bar.

Back in the comfort of your shared home, you sat Jing Yuan down on the bed before changing him into more comfortable clothes– While silently cursing him for one, being drunk, and two, being uncooperative and trying to drag you down and fall asleep right then and there. He’d fallen asleep sitting up by the time you finished, so you laid him down on the bed and covered him with a blanket, chuckling to yourself when he reached over to your side of the bed, a few creases appearing on his forehead when he realised you weren’t beside him.

You headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower before you finally joined him in bed, where he happily pulled you closer the moment you laid down. You felt your eyelids growing heavier and heavier as you brushed your hands through Jing Yuan’s soft locks. 

Just before you fell asleep, you gave your words another thought. Were your words technically an affirmation to him that you’d marry him if he proposed? Okay… Now that you think about it, it was probably best to also leave that thought for tomorrow. Sure, the two of you had been talking about getting engaged, but it’s past midnight, and you just don’t have the energy to think.

Or, not.

“Yuan..?” You mumbled as your eyes fluttered open when you felt something on your hand. Once you adjusted your vision, you could see Jing Yuan holding your hand up to his lips, gently pressing his lips onto your ring finger. He was kissing the promise ring he’d gotten you a while ago, only leaning down to kiss you good morning when he realised you were awake. 

You sat up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as Jing Yuan pulled you into his lap, placing his head on your shoulder once again. He held your hand up for you to stare at the pretty band on your finger.

“You said you’d accept if I proposed when I weren’t drunk,” he said, stretching a little before he leaned over to grab something. He then held the box up beside your hand and opened it, revealing a pair of engagement rings.

“So, may I have your hand in marriage, dearest?” He let go of your hand and let it wrap around your waist, bringing your back closer to his chest.

This man was going to be the death of you, you swear. 

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[solxamber]

Could I request Diasomnia with a partner who's a smithy? Besides weapons, they can also craft tools, kitchenware, tableware, jewelry, armour, and anything else made of metal.

thank you for waiting this long <3

Diasomnia with a Blacksmith! Reader

Malleus Draconia – The Dragon Prince’s Personal Artisan

The first time he visits your forge, he’s utterly enchanted—not by the flames, but by you. Watching you work, hammering molten metal with such skill, is far more mesmerizing than any spellwork.

He commissions you to craft him a custom weapon, but it turns into a long-standing habit. Now, you’ve made him jewelry, ornate goblets, and a ridiculously expensive teapot set because he wanted to see how you’d do it.

Gets lowkey jealous of the things you make. “You spend so much time crafting weapons for others. Shouldn’t your finest work belong to me?”

Definitely flexes your work in his hoard. Will absolutely hoard you too if given the chance.

If you try to gift him something small and personal—like a pendant or a signet ring—he gets unreasonably soft about it. You just handed this ancient dragon prince a trinket, and now it’s his most prized possession.

Lilia Vanrouge – Chaos Gremlin Patron

"Ah, metalwork! I was quite the smith in my youth!" he says, as he spectacularly fails to make a dent in a copper sheet.

He is the most annoying client because he commissions the weirdest things. Once asked you to make him a sword with a detachable spoon. He used it to eat soup at a war camp.

Always hanging upside down in your forge, asking too many questions. “What does this do? Can I touch it? Oh? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You make him a personalized dagger with his name etched in glowing runes, thinking he’d use it in battle. He instead uses it to cut vegetables while cooking. (It’s the only reason the vegetables survive his cooking.)

But when it comes down to it, Lilia deeply respects your craft. If he ever gifts you anything, it’s always materials from far-off lands, rare ores, and enchanted metals that sing under your hammer.

Absolutely goes feral if anyone tries to disrespect your work. You won’t even know what happened. One moment, someone is criticizing your craftsmanship—next moment, they’re pale, shaking, and handing you money while Lilia smiles behind them.

Silver Vanrouge – The Knight Who Always Falls Asleep Near Your Forge

He respects your work immensely but has terrible luck visiting you. He always falls asleep while waiting.

You once found him passed out against your anvil. You almost clocked him with a hammer thinking he was a burglar.

But the best part? He sleeps like an absolute angel in the most inconvenient spots. On your workbench? Yup. Leaning against a suit of armor? Done. Balanced on a pile of metal ingots? How??

When he’s awake, though, he’s very earnest about learning. He wants to understand how to take care of his weapons, so he often asks you to teach him maintenance techniques.

You sharpen his sword once, and he treats it like you personally saved his life. He insists that your work makes him faster and sharper in battle.

If he ever sees you working late, he’ll gently put a cloak over you and tell you to rest. But if you refuse? Fine. He’ll sit next to you and fall asleep while pretending to keep you company.

Sebek Zigvolt – Loudest Supporter, Most Aggressive Customer

"HUH?! YOU FORGE METAL?! INCREDIBLE! ASTOUNDING! I SHALL ONLY COMMISSION FROM YOU!!!” (You are now his personal smith. You had no say in this.)

He demands the strongest, most unbreakable weapons. You make him a sword once, and he treats it like it's a divine relic.

Tries to act like he’s too dignified to be impressed, but the first time he sees you pull molten metal from the forge, his jaw drops.

You gift him a custom sword with his family crest, and he is red in the face. "W-WHAT?! THIS IS—HOW DID—FOR ME?!?!” You swear you saw sparkles around his head.

Complains about you “wasting time” making non-weaponry, but secretly loves everything you make. Once, you gave him a metal drinking flask for travel, and he now refuses to use anything else.

Will loudly threaten anyone who disrespects your craft, even if they didn’t say anything. Someone casually mentions a blacksmith in another town? Sebek immediately starts yelling: "THEY CANNOT POSSIBLY MATCH MY CRAFTSMAN!!!”

He also secretly admires your patience and dedication. Late at night, when you’re working under the dim glow of the forge, he just watches in quiet awe. Sometimes, he forgets to yell.

Masterlist

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[thesongoficeandfir3]

Mine to take care of

Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!reader

Warnings: brief talk of gore, talks of menstrual cycle, slight description of menstrual blood, smut alluded

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Jace taking care of his wife who’s on her moon blood

A/n: You’re next Cregan Stark

You changed your position on the four-poster bed for what felt like the hundredth time as your mind bops in between sleep and wakefulness. You had a long and irritable day just wanting to sleep but your body had other ideas as it writhed in some unknown pain that worsened throughout the night.  Finally accepting the fact you weren’t getting any sleep you allow your body to fully wake up and once your mind comes back to the waking world, your eyes burst open when you realized what was keeping you from sleep. 

You jolted to a sitting position ripping the furs from your body. Your eyes snapping down and a string of curses leaving your lips and you leap out of bed. The room was  somewhat dark, all the once tall and bright  candlesticks now mere stubs hardly sputtering flames and the fireplace reduced to embers. Yet you could still make out the dark bloodstain, a stark contrast to the white sheets. You are pulled from your panic when you hear soft mumbling and Jace shifting awake. You move quickly and hide the stain covering it with the furs.

“What is it?” He mummers out still half asleep and his voice raspy with sleep.

“It is nothing my love,” you stutter out, failing horribly to conceal the distraught in your tone. “Please just go back to bed.” Though you had succeeded in covering the truth on the bedsheets with the furs, you failed to remember it also seeped through your rather thin and white nightgown.

“If it were nothing then why does your voice-” he pauses mid sentence once his eyes land on you, his mind still not quite in the waking world “what is that on your-”  his eyes then widen in realization and you prayed to all the gods above to end you right there.

Despite being betrothed for two years, it was not until a fortnight ago that you two were married and started to share a marriage bed. Thus there were still a few more intimate and more private things yet to be revealed in your relationship, your moon blood being one of them. While from the very first day you had met Jacaerys he had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, at this moment your insecurities got the better of you making you feel ashamed and embarrassed about your own moon blood. 

Jacaerys was not as savage nor dumb like many of the other men of Westeros when it comes to a woman’s anatomy (something you found out rather quickly on your wedding night). Due to reading and having female family members he was more than aware of what a moon blood was. This however was not enough to prepare him for how it truly looked and he can not help be slightly taken aback. He had been to war, he has  seen men’s heads crushed, animal’s stomachs ripped open, people skins bubble and burn from dragon fire, but seven hells was that a lot of blood for a person who was not injured or cut.

“Oh is that your… you know” He desperately tries to act casual.

His words go through one ear and out the next, not only was the lower part of your nightgown stained with blood but as you sleeped with nothing more than a nightgown the blood also dripped and stained down your legs.

Mayhaps it was the lack of sleep or the raging and unpredictable emotions that always came with your moon blood but your eyes immediately became watery with tears. 

 “Sorry” your voice breaks and you prepare for him to make any signs of disgust or try to pretend he doesn't see anything and go back to bed as you told him early. 

This is more than enough to snap him out of his surprised state, he mentally slaps himself for his initial dumbfounded reaction. He quickly shifts right back to the loving and caring man you know so well and needed more than ever at this moment.

“Hush now my love, there is nothing to apologize for,” he is at your side in an instant “this is a natural part of a woman’s body and you should never apologize for it.” His voice is soft and gentle. Despite his encouraging words he can still see your heart aching and it doesn't help when your arm quickly wraps around your abdomen when a painful cramp surges through. “Come now, let's get you out of that and cleaned up” he says as he reaches for the laces of your nightgown.

You recoil, not because of him but because of yourself. “I am repulsive, I should do it myself”

His face twists in disappointment, his disappointment pointed toward your words not at you. His hands grab your biceps slightly squeezing them in an attempt to stop you from walking away from him and for you to listen to what he had to say.

“Stop that you are anything but, what you are is my queen, my woman and you are mine and i intend to take care of what belongs to me” he ends the sentence with a soft kiss on the forehead before undoing the laces. Once undone he slips it over your head leaving you completely bare, you both instantly noticing how even bloodier in between your thighs were.

“This is a womanly thing, many men would be off-put by this so I will not shame you if you are.” you know he said just a few moments ago it was fine, but seeing blood stains was one thing and seeing its source was a whole other.

“Don’t you dare compare me to those dimwitted fools,” he takes your hand and leads you to the wash basin “a real man will not be fazed by his wife's body functioning  the way it's supposed to.”

Once at the wash basin, he picks up a clean cloth and soap. He kneels in front of you getting to work at cleaning off all the blood, you can feel the tender love and care through his touch. It was quiet the entire time he washed you, but a it was a comfortable silence as you two reached a new level of intimacy.

Jace felt honored that you allowed him to see this side of you. So raw and vulnerable yet you still trusted him and for that , he did not think it was possible, but he fell in love with you more. After the cleaning is done he leans forward pressing a long and gentle kiss where your womb would be.

“Guess what,” he murmurs, his breath felt warm against your skin “Your womb has not been seeded yet.” he stands once more “so that means I can try again and again until my seed starts to bloom in your beautiful garden.” 

He pulls you flush against him and you laugh at his words, his heart swells being able to hear the sound again.

“And once you give birth to our beautiful king or queen  I will plant hundreds more.

You bite on your bottom lip, the insecurity from earlier passing and you feel more bold now.

“Well then what is stopping you from starting now?”

“Nothing my heart” his eyes darkened with love and desire, he lifts you up taking you two to the bed.

[shyoko]

☆When you call them by their name instead of their affectionate nickname. ☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

 Requests are: open

Before anything else, sorry for disappearing, but my PC died. But well, now I have a new one, and I can keep editing and writing.

Thanks for the support!!! i love u ❤❤❤

Heeseung☆!

You're lying on the couch, enjoying the calm, with Heeseung resting his head on your lap. His eyes are closed, but the way his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your leg tells you he's more awake than he seems. You smile at him, thinking about how adorable he looks, though you also suspect he's waiting for the right moment to do something mischievous.

You take the opportunity to check your phone. Unlocking the screen, you scroll through your notifications and pause on Heeseung’s contact. It’s just his name—no nickname, no emoji. You know he doesn’t like how formal that feels.

Deciding to mess with him, you hold back a laugh and keep staring at your phone, waiting for him to notice.

“What are you looking at?” he suddenly murmurs, not opening his eyes, but his tone betrays that he’s completely awake.

You chuckle, tilting your phone slightly to keep it out of his view.

“Nothing, nothing,” you reply, keeping it just out of his reach.

He opens one eye, a playful glint in his gaze. Before you can react, he’s already on top of you, trying to snatch your phone from your hands. His closeness sends a flutter through your stomach, but you keep up the game.

“Let go!” he laughs, voice full of mischief as he stretches toward the phone.

“No!” you giggle, dodging his attempts to grab it.

Heeseung sighs dramatically, pretending to be offended, but his mischievous grin gives him away.

“Why do you have me saved as just ‘Heeseung’? Not even an emoji. That’s so cold!” he protests, crossing his arms with an exaggerated pout.

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics. He looks so cute that it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” you tease, smiling as you watch him sulk.

“Yes, but it sounds so distant,” he whines, though his playful tone tells you he’s not actually upset. “Give me something cute, something affectionate. I don’t know, a heart or a nickname.”

You’re a little surprised by his request, but you decide to go along with it. Smirking, you think for a moment.

“Hm… How about ‘My Boy 🩷’?” you suggest playfully, tilting your phone so he can see.

Heeseung freezes for a second, as if processing what you just said. Then, his face lights up with a satisfied grin, and without warning, he snatches your phone.

In the blink of an eye, he changes the contact name. “Heeseung” now reads “My Boy 🩷” on the screen.

You stare at your phone in shock, amazed at how fast he did it. Heeseung flops down beside you, a triumphant smile on his face.

“Do you like it?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

You laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up. There’s no escaping now.

“I can’t believe you actually did that!” you protest between giggles, giving him a playful shove.

“Why not?” he smirks confidently, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I am your boy, aren’t I?”

You keep smiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace surrounding you. In that moment, between laughter and soft touches, you realize there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“You’re such an idiot,” you whisper, hiding your face in his chest to keep him from seeing how flustered you are.

“I’m your idiot, remember?” he murmurs, gently running his fingers through your hair. “Always.”

You chuckle softly, hugging him tighter. There’s nothing better than this—the warmth of his arms, the sound of his voice, and his name now saved as “My Boy 🩷” on your phone.

jay☆!

You were sitting on the couch, your phone in your hands, when Jay let out an exaggerated sigh beside you. You tilted your head in curiosity, finding his brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, propping an elbow on the back of the couch to turn toward him.

Jay glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before looking away with a small huff.

“It’s just that… you never call me by a cute nickname,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt. “It’s always ‘Jay’ this, ‘Jay’ that. I don’t know, it sounds too formal.”

A smile slipped out before you could stop it.

“Oh yeah? And what do you want me to call you?”

Jay was about to answer, but before he could, a voice interrupted from the doorway.

“Are you guys having a romantic moment or what?”

Ni-ki appeared with a mischievous grin, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Jay immediately rolled his eyes.

“Go away,” he said flatly, not even looking at him.

“Wow, so rude,” Ni-ki chuckled. “But seriously, what’s up with you now?”

Jay sighed tiredly, but when it became clear that Ni-ki wasn’t going anywhere, he finally gave in.

“I was just saying that they never call me by a cute nickname,” he explained with a pout.

“Oh, poor thing,” Ni-ki mocked, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “Do you want to be called ‘teddy bear’ or something?”

Laughter burst out of you before you could hold it in. Jay shot Ni-ki a glare, but the younger boy just held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving. You guys enjoy your little couple talk,” he said, turning away with a teasing smile.

Once he was gone, Jay sighed and rested his head on your shoulder, hiding his face against your neck.

“Ni-ki’s so annoying,” he muttered against your skin.

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his hair.

“He is,” you agreed, stroking his hair gently. “But he has a point.”

Jay lifted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

You smiled before leaning closer to his ear.

“You’re my teddy bear,” you whispered playfully.

Jay blinked, his cheeks turning bright red in an instant.

“That’s even worse!” he exclaimed, covering his face.

You giggled fondly before taking his hands and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Okay, okay… but tell me, what do you want me to call you?”

Jay stared at you in silence for a moment, then sighed with a small smile.

“I don’t know, anything… just something sweet,” he murmured, tucking his face into your neck again.

Smiling, you placed a soft kiss on his hair.

“Alright, sweetheart.”

The quiet sigh Jay let out was barely noticeable, but the way he held onto you just a little tighter said it all.

“This is much better,” he whispered, a warm smile tugging at his lips.

Jake☆!

Jake was lying on the living room floor, legs stretched out and a soft smile on his face as he played with Layla. The puppy wagged her tail enthusiastically, pouncing over and over on the toy that Jake spun between his hands. The scene was so adorable that you almost felt bad interrupting it, but still, you called out to him from the couch, trying to get his attention.

"Jake! Can you come here for a second?"

Jake lifted his head immediately, as if unsure he'd heard correctly. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he stayed completely still, still holding Layla’s toy. The surprise on his face was so obvious that you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

"Did you just call me Jake?" he asked, squinting slightly and letting out a soft chuckle—though there was something in his gaze that seemed genuinely displeased.

"Yeah, what about it?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jake set the toy aside and slowly got up, crawling toward you with deliberate movements. He rested his arms on the edge of the couch, leaning in until your faces were only inches apart.

"I don’t like it when you call me that," he murmured with a slight pout. "It sounds too… ordinary."

"But it’s your name, Jake." You emphasized his name on purpose, enjoying the way his jaw clenched slightly.

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and took your hands in his, as if that would help convince you.

"Yeah, but not from you," he insisted, lowering his voice. "‘Jake’ is what everyone calls me. Not you."

The way he looked at you, with his lips pressed together and his brows slightly furrowed, had an unmistakable hint of tenderness that made you smile involuntarily. His fingers tangled gently with yours, playing with them as if trying to distract himself.

"Ah, I see. So, my boy gets upset when I call him by his name," you teased, intertwining your fingers with his.

Jake scoffed, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

"I’m not upset… I just don’t like it," he muttered, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I want you to call me the way you always do."

You noticed how his hands tightened around yours, as if afraid you might do it again.

"Alright, my love," you whispered with a smile.

Jake closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring the way it sounded on your lips. Then, without warning, he nestled into your arms and rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

"That’s much better," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with contentment.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his hair as your fingers ran gently down his back. Layla let out a quiet bark beside you, as if protesting the lack of attention, but Jake didn’t even budge.

"You know this is a little dramatic, right?" you murmured in amusement.

"I don’t care," he replied, snuggling closer. "Just let me stay like this for a while."

And by the way he held onto you, you knew there was no way you’d ever call him ‘Jake’ again.

Sunghoon☆!

You were leaning against one of the tables in the café, chatting casually with a friend. The conversation flowed lightheartedly between laughter, but every now and then, your eyes drifted toward Sunghoon, who sat a few meters away with his headphones in and his phone in hand.

When your gazes met, you smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

"Sunghoon, come here for a second!" you called, gesturing with your hand.

He lifted his head, hesitating at first, but eventually put his headphones in his pocket and walked toward you with slow steps. The usual soft smile on his face had vanished, and the way his lips were pressed together made you blink in confusion.

"What's wrong?" you asked when he reached your side.

Sunghoon shook his head, shrugging, but avoided your gaze. He merely clicked his tongue lightly, crossing his arms and glancing toward the window.

"Is something bothering you?" you insisted, frowning. "Are you upset that I was talking to him?"

"No," he answered quickly, rolling his eyes. "It's not that."

The dry tone of his voice and the way his fingers tapped against his arm gave him away. You sighed, saying goodbye to your friend before gently taking Sunghoon by the wrist and leading him to a more private corner.

"Hey, are you sure nothing's wrong?" you murmured, searching his eyes. "You've been acting strange since you came over."

Sunghoon puffed out his cheeks, avoiding your gaze.

"It's just… you called me 'Sunghoon,'" he finally admitted, a small pout forming on his lips. "Not even a 'baby' or anything. It sounded like you didn’t even know me."

Surprise made you blink a couple of times before a small laugh escaped you. Sunghoon scrunched his nose, clearly offended.

"Ah, so that's what it was," you smiled, tightening your grip on his wrist slightly. "I thought you didn’t like that kind of thing in public. The nicknames and all…"

He huffed, clicking his tongue in irritation.

"I just don’t like other guys thinking I'm not your boyfriend," he muttered, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. "I like it when you call me cute things, not just my name. It sounds too cold."

The sincerity in his tone and the way his gaze shifted anxiously, as if looking for an escape, made you smile fondly.

"Wow, I didn’t know you were this sensitive," you teased gently.

Sunghoon puffed out his cheeks again, turning his gaze away with a small scoff.

"I’m not sensitive…" he grumbled, though the way his fingers intertwined with yours completely contradicted him. "I just… like it when it sounds like I’m special."

With a soft smile, you stood on your tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. The blush on his face deepened instantly, and though he tried to keep his annoyed expression, his lips began to curve slightly.

"Alright then, ‘baby,’" you whispered sweetly.

Sunghoon let out a quiet sigh, and though he crossed his arms as if still upset, he didn’t move away. On the contrary, he leaned his forehead a little closer to yours, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Much better," he murmured, and though his voice was soft and serious, you could feel his smile against your skin—warm and small.

Sunoo☆!

The challenge had started as a simple joke—just to see how Sunoo would react if you called him by his name instead of the affectionate nicknames he loved so much. The guys—Jay, Niki, and Sunghoon—could barely contain their laughter when they saw you walk into the room with that fake serious expression. They hid behind the slightly open door, trying not to make a sound while you prepared to set the plan in motion.

Sunoo was sitting on the mattress, legs crossed, phone in hand. The soft afternoon light streamed through the window, casting warm highlights in his hair. His fingers moved quickly across the screen, and his calm expression made you hesitate for a second before clearing your throat.

"Sunoo! Come here for a second!" you called, trying to sound natural.

At the sound of his name, Sunoo immediately lifted his head. His expression shifted from surprise to annoyance in the blink of an eye, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at you as if you had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His jaw tensed slightly, and his lips pressed together, making it clear that he was not in the mood for jokes.

"What did you just say?" he asked, setting his phone aside and getting up with quick steps. His tone was colder than usual, and the way he held your gaze without blinking made it impossible to take the situation lightly.

"I called you, what’s the problem?" you defended yourself, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

"Don’t call me that!" he protested immediately, frowning. "It sounds horrible. Like I’m just any other person."

The firmness in his voice and the way he crossed his arms in front of you, chin raised and eyes shining with a mix of irritation and defiance, made it clear that the challenge was working. Sometimes, the confidence in Sunoo’s gaze managed to disarm you faster than you were willing to admit.

"But it’s your name, Sunoo," you insisted with a teasing smile, provoking him on purpose.

At the sound of his name again, Sunoo let out an irritated huff, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips together in frustration.

"No more ‘Sunoo!’" he demanded, his voice sharp. "Call me ‘baby’ or ‘my love.’ That sounds much nicer. That’s what I want to hear."

It was right then that a small, choked noise broke the silence. Someone—clearly Niki—let out a stifled giggle, and the faint sound made Sunoo turn sharply toward the door. His eyes narrowed, and before the guys could react, he marched toward it with quick, firm steps.

"Ah! So this was a joke, huh?" he muttered, swinging the door open to find all three of them barely holding back laughter. "Very funny. Really."

Jay and Sunghoon raised their hands in surrender, but Niki burst into laughter, leaning on Jay’s shoulder as he doubled over. Sunoo clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes in irritation before slamming the door shut with a sharp huff.

"You guys are so annoying," he mumbled, pressing his lips together as he rested his head against the door. His expression remained serious, and the faint redness on his cheeks only made his frustration more obvious.

You sighed with a guilty smile, stepping closer to him softly. Before he could complain again, you took his wrist and led him back to the mattress, gently guiding him to sit down as you settled beside him, wrapping your arms around him.

"I’m sorry, baby," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his flushed cheek. "You know it was just a joke. Don’t be mad."

Sunoo huffed, turning his head away from you. His lips remained pressed in a pout, and the way he kept his arms crossed against his chest made it clear that his annoyance hadn’t faded yet.

"You’re all so cruel," he mumbled, his tone dry and sharp. "It’s not funny."

You smiled against his skin, leaving a slow trail of kisses from his cheek down to the hollow of his neck. You felt his shoulders gradually relax, though his lips remained tight as he tried not to give in too easily.

"Will you forgive me?" you whispered, placing one last kiss near his ear. "You know I just wanted to tease you a little."

Sunoo let out a quiet sigh, resting his forehead against your shoulder, though he refused to look at you.

"Maybe…" he murmured, his voice softer but still sulky. "But you owe me cuddles. Lots of them."

And even though his face remained serious and his gaze fixed on the fabric of your shirt, the way he curled up against you, eyes fluttering shut and hands gripping your clothes, made it clear that his anger wouldn’t last much longer.

Jungwon☆!

The argument had ended a few minutes ago, but the silence between the two of you felt heavy and cold. Jungwon stood in the middle of the room, biting his lip nervously, while you took a few steps toward the window, trying to calm yourself. The way you had said his name, without any of the usual affectionate nicknames, hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

"Hey... can we talk, please?" he asked in a low, uncertain voice. But you didn’t respond, keeping your gaze fixed outside, even though you weren’t really looking at anything.

"Are you really going to keep calling me that?" Jungwon insisted, taking a step closer, his dark eyes reflecting a mix of regret and sadness. The way he said your name sounded almost like a plea, so soft that the knot in your throat tightened even more.

"It’s your name, isn’t it?" you replied, trying to sound firm, though your voice wavered slightly.

Jungwon pressed his lips together, his shoulders tensing. He didn’t like hearing that, especially in that distant tone. He swallowed hard, lowering his gaze for a moment, as if debating with himself whether or not to take the next step. But the thought of you continuing to call him that was enough to make him forget his pride.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling with sincerity. He stepped closer, carefully, as if afraid you would pull away.

"I really am, love. I didn’t… I didn’t want it to end like this. Please, don’t call me that."

The way his voice broke at the end made something inside you crack as well. Before you could respond, Jungwon gently took your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. His grip was warm, but he was shaking slightly.

"I know I messed up. But please, don’t talk to me like I’m a stranger," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes with an almost broken sigh.

"Call me like you used to. Just tell me you forgive me, okay?"

The pain and regret in his eyes were so evident that you couldn’t keep up the act for much longer. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment as his fingers softly traced yours, as if afraid you’d pull away.

"Jungwon..." you started, and you felt him tense at the mention of his name again. But before he could say anything, you continued:

"It’s okay, my love. I’m not angry, just… it hurt, you know?" you admitted softly, cupping his cheek.

He let out a deep sigh of relief, so profound it was as if he had been holding his breath the entire time. He hugged you without hesitation, burying his face in your neck as he murmured apologies over and over again, clinging to you as if afraid you would disappear.

"Thank you… thank you for forgiving me, love," he whispered, and this time his voice was broken, but filled with relief and warmth.

"I love you."

And in his arms, the weight in your chest slowly began to fade away.

Ni-ki☆!

You were in the kitchen, stirring the food in the pan, when you raised your voice to call Ni-ki from the living room.

"Jake, come here for a second!"

Silence fell immediately. The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had messed up.

From the couch, Ni-ki lifted his head with a look of disbelief. He didn’t say anything at first, but the way he narrowed his eyes made it clear that he had heard you perfectly.

He stood up and walked toward the kitchen with slow steps, crossing his arms.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his tone dripping with irritation.

You froze for a moment, feeling the tension in the air.

"I'm sorry, Ni-ki… I meant—"

"Oh, so not only do you not call me by a cute nickname, but you say someone else’s name instead?" he interrupted, scoffing in annoyance. "And Jake’s, of all people. How embarrassing."

He placed a hand over his chest dramatically, but the frown on his face showed that he was genuinely bothered.

"I'm really sorry, it wasn’t on purpose…" you murmured, taking a step toward him.

Ni-ki averted his gaze with a small huff, but the way his jaw relaxed let you know he was already getting over it.

"Just… don’t call me Jake again," he said, still keeping his arms crossed.

You smiled tenderly before gently touching his arm.

"I promise, love. I won’t do it again."

The nickname worked instantly. Ni-ki looked at you in silence for a moment, and then, without warning, leaned in and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was firm, almost possessive.

"You’re mine, you know that?" he murmured against your lips with a mischievous smile.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you placed a soft kiss on his lips, lingering just enough to make the tension disappear completely.

Just then, a low chuckle came from the doorway.

"Dude, that’s disgusting," Jay said, leaning against the frame with a raised eyebrow. "So now you’re one of those ‘you’re mine’ guys? That’s new."

Ni-ki turned his head, frowning.

"What are you talking about?"

"I just remember when you used to laugh at me for being ‘cheesy’ with my girlfriend," Jay replied, making air quotes. "And look at you now—‘mine’ this, kisses everywhere."

Ni-ki opened his mouth to argue, but no comeback came to mind. His ears instantly turned red.

"Screw you, Jay."

"Gladly, but I’m enjoying the show too much." Jay smirked smugly before turning away and disappearing down the hallway.

Jay smirked smugly before turning away and disappearing down the hallway. Ni-ki let out a frustrated sigh and rested his forehead on your shoulder, mumbling something under his breath.

"What was that?" you asked, laughing.

"I hate him," he muttered against your neck, clinging even tighter to you.

"And here I thought you were tough, Ni-ki."

He lifted his head with a frown, but the way he held onto your waist even more tightly gave him away—deep down, he didn’t mind at all.

"Hii! Now that I'm back, I'd love to know, do you have any ideas or suggestions for what you'd like to see next? I'm open to recommendations, so feel free to comment. I'm reading you!" ❤❤❤

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[bernardsbendystraws]

ೃ࿔*:･ Snow .ᐟ Reader x FWB.ᐟ Matt

Matt is selfish and jealous…

⚠︎ angst, mentions of smut, lying, and more

You should be mad, but you're not. This was obviously a set up. After building the lego set, Matt insisted on cuddling. He held you in his arms tightly, tracing the rim of your ear lightly. It's a trick he's learned makes you fall asleep fast. He promised himself he'd never abuse that fact, but his heart is forcing him to be selfish.

Waking up, you blink your eyes open to see him staring down at you. He tries to make his eyes flutter slowly, acting like he's just woken up, but you can tell he's been wide awake. And he has been. He's been trying to take the slowest breaths possible, attempting to synchronize his heart beat with yours as if it will somehow make you feel his emotions as your own.

"Shit, I didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry," he says, his tone soft and soothing, the complete opposite of his gruff voice when he first wakes up. The words seem sweet, but his eyes are avoidant. Matt's not bad at lying, but he's awful at hiding guilt.

Looking over to the clock on his bedside, you huff at the time. It's been an entire hour since you were supposed to go on your date, showing up now would just be awkward. You didn't even necessarily want to go on the date. It seemed like a chore.

"It's okay," you mention, bringing your hand upward to pet through his hair softly. He sighs with relief from the touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he worships your gentle caress. His stubble tickling against the palm of your hand makes you more aware of the warmth crawling through your body from the contact with his skin, your heart thumping in your ears as you swallow thickly.

Deep down, you know it doesn't add up. Matt builds legos all the time, he didn't have anything against participating in that task alone. He shows no signs of sleep. Even in your subconscious state, you swear you remember him tracing the rim of your ear to keep you pulled into your dreams.

Matt knows what he's doing is wrong, he knows that this isn't okay anymore, he knows he should be saying something. The truth is necessary at this point, but the truth hurts, the truth is cruel.

He just can't. Not when saying the truth might mean losing all of you. Even though your current circumstances aren't enough to satisfy his heart, the thought of not having you at all makes him sick.

Nobody is you. No matter how many girls he tried to talk to, none of them could even mimic a fraction of the things you made him feel. He gets excited planning 'dates' for you two, he feels happy in a way that he can't even pretend with anyone else.

It's selfish on both ends. He knows it's wrong, he knows he should be honest. But deep down, you can see the words he's refusing to say, you just can't find it in yourself to confront him. You don't have it in yourself for anything to change for better or worse.

A/N: Pls don't cuss me out !!! I'm sorry if I make your heart hurt, but just remember, I can also make delicious smut so like...pls don't be mad lol. These two hold a really firm place in my heart and it does make me happy to see you guys liking this au since I was really hesitant to do it for a LONG time. Please feel free to ask any questions or give me prompts about them! I know this is a different concept from my typical vibe and I'm trying my best to make sure it's not confusing!

·˚ ༘ ʚ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒔, 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𖧧

꒰ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ๑ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ꒱