#plastic table cover roll

[partyglowz-usa]

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[teaboot]

One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.

You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.

We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.

After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.

How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.

The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.

You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.

I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.

I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.

You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.

I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.

It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless

[jjunieworld]

LATHER ˒˒ 최수빈

to help raise money for charity you and your friends make your way over to the rich neighborhood to handwash cars in your best skimpy bathing suits and clothing.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi soobin x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 soyeon from gidle, chaewon from le sserafim, and karina from aespa

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, rich playboy!soobin (like very rich), a lot of sexual innuendos, blonde!soobin

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex + pull-out method (be safe!!), kinda bratty!reader, mean dom!soobin, degradation kink, name calling (slut, whore, good girl), dacryphilia, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing, slight overstimulation (f. rec)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ remember everyone, every body is a bikini body can i get an amen?!!?! :D think of this as the start of my hot girl summer writing era lmaoo（ゝ。∂）this was really pushing my wc of drabbles… lol sorry, what can i say! i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 2.5k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

you huffed loudly as you tried to pull down the smallest shorts you’ve ever worn. when they didn’t budge, you slumped into the chair at the stand you and your friends were currently setting up. at least you weren’t that hot with your bikini top and jean shorts that barely covered your ass in the summer sun. for charity, you thought, it’s all for charity.

“alright, i think everything is good,” soyeon said, as her eyes scanned the stand. you, soyeon, chaewon, and karina were on the sidewalk in some rich neighborhood to handwash cars for this charity program you’re all volunteering for.

karina got up from the grass where she was filling water balloons and placing them in a bucket, “water balloons are done! are we ready to get started?” there was a piece of paper on the bucket that read ‘$20 TO GET THESE GIRLS SOAKED!’ on it. before soyeon could reply, chaewon walked up to you three.

“i already got a couple offers—they’re paying big money to see us drenched and washing their cars,” chaewon said as she sat on the plastic chair next to you. soyeon scoffed a little and rolled her eyes as she looked around to the various large and elaborate houses. there were already some men waiting on their porches or flat out in their yards with a chair and a beer.

one man in particular had his eyes on you this whole time. he was one of the ones sitting in his yard—sunglasses low on his nose bridge as he sipped from whatever beer he had. his blonde hair and white button up shirt made him stand out in contrast to the green grass behind him. you gave him a small and sweet smile while trying to make it seem like you didn’t notice his persistent staring. a smirk grew on his face and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. men are so easy, you thought.

the whole idea to even do this car washing service came from soyeon, surprisingly. in her own words, “let’s take advantage of shitty rich men for charity money!” it wasn’t a bad idea—you even suggested that you continue the car washing service in other neighborhoods too.

soyeon grabbed the megaphone from the table and said into it, “all right, gentlemen! who’s ready to get wet?! starting prices are on the sign above me and remember, it costs extra if you want something special! let’s raise some money for charity!” the rest of you all started whooping and cheering as all the men came up to you four like moths to a flame.

you were in the process of taking a lot of twenty dollar bills and passing out water balloons whenever the man from the yard who had been eying you finally started to approach. you had to tear your eyes away from him when a water balloon hit your chest, soaking your bikini top in the process. turning to the culprit with a shocked screech, chaewon smiled at you.

chaewon was completely drenched and sudsy from the car her and soyeon just washed. she held an open water bottle in her hand and you knew exactly what she was about to do with it. “chaewon!” you laughed as you looked at the water dripping off of you. you peeled some of the green balloon off that stuck to you.

“the guy who’s been eyefucking you is coming over, be ready,” she said lowly as she poured the water over your shoulders. karina smirked at you as she took over handling the water balloons. chaewon walked back to the table and you turned to greet the man.

his eyes trailed up and down your—now soaked—body, especially the red bikini top that covered your boobs. he took a water balloon from karina, pressing the twenty dollars into her open hand, and made his way to you. “need any more help getting wet?” he asked you with a sly grin.

now that he was up close, he was really attractive. he also didn’t look that much older than you, which surprised you slightly. you gave him an innocent smile, he was probably some billionaire’s son. “for charity? of course i am, if you’re offering!” you exclaimed as you held out your arms and prepped yourself to be hit with the water balloon.

instead of throwing the balloon he latched his finger underneath the strap of your bikini top. “what if i want a special offer?” he leaned into you and said lowly near the shell of your ear. your faces were inches away from each other as he looked you in your eyes and awaited your answer. the strap of your bikini top snapped back down onto your shoulder as he let go of it.

you could feel heat spread across your body, especially towards the pit of your belly. now, you weren’t really one for a casual—or not so casual—hookup with a stranger, but you were willing to make an exception for a good cause. besides, he was just so alluring. if you weren’t already so wet, you’d bet your panties would be soaked right now.

you looked at him through hooded lids and said lowly, “you’re gonna have to make a generous donation to charity if you want to fuck me, stranger.” his smirk turned into a slick smile.

“name your price and i’ll double it,” he replied, “and it’s soobin.” you licked your lips in thought and his eyes followed the motion. how much could you squeeze from him before he retracted his offer? just how badly did he want to fuck you? you debated for a moment on the price.

“one million dollars!” you settled on, raising a brow at soobin as you lifted your chin. soobin broke out into a playful laugh and you watched his reaction. he began nodding, like it meant nothing to him.

“two million it is!” he replied and the two of you made your way over to the table where the credit card reader was. soyeon’s eyes nearly fell out as she looked at the amount soobin transferred, and yours almost did too when you leaned over to look at the screen. instead of transferring over two million dollars, he transferred over four million.

soobin turned to you and smiled, “for the pretty girl in front of me.” you thanked him with wide eyes. you turned to soyeon and she mirrored your expression as she mouthed, “four million?!”

you turned back to soobin, “i hope you don’t mind waiting for a few moments. i have to wash this car quickly.” soobin shook his head and crossed his arms. “take all the time you need,” he replied.

smiling, you told him you’d be right back. as you were walking away, you heard soyeon cheekily say, “you can set up a chair and watch her if you so desire.” you helped karina grab the soap and brushes and the two of you made your way over to one of the cars waiting to be washed. when the two of you finished, you were completely drenched from head to toe and lathered in soap.

soobin had taken up soyeon’s offer and watched you the entire time. he came up to you with a towel in his hand that he outstretched towards you. you thanked him and dried yourself off as best as you could and tried to get most of the soap off. soobin trailed the tips of his fingers along your jaw, “ready?”

his fingers lifted up your chin so that you looked at him. suddenly flustered as the reality of what you were about to do hit you, all you could manage to do was nod in reply. soobin smiled and took your hand as he led you back to his house. you looked over your shoulder at karina, who was now standing with chaewon as the two of them made kissy faces at you and laughed at how your cheeks heated further from it.

the inside of his house was just as nice as the outside, but you barely got to look around before lips were pressing kisses to your neck. soobin wasted no time with you as he backed you up towards the living room and pushed you down onto the couch. his eyes were dark and full of lust and it made him look like a completely different person than the one you knew just a few seconds ago.

“take your clothes off,” he demanded as he unbuttoned his shorts. he pulled them down, revealing his bulging erection, as you crossed your legs and leaned forward slightly. “why don’t you take them off for me?” you challenged.

the corner of soobin’s mouth lifted as he took a step towards you. his tall figure hovered over yours as he hooked his fingers under your bikini straps and pulled them down. goosebumps raised along your skin where he touched and a shiver ran up your spin when he started to untie your bikini top at your back. once it was untied, he tossed it to the side onto the couch.

you shivered slightly as a cool chill swept over your now exposed breasts, making your nipples perk up. soobin rubbed his thumbs over them as he grabbed your breasts. “so beautiful…” he muttered to himself. his fingers trailed down your stomach and stopped just above the hem of your jean shorts. he looked up at you briefly, darkly, and you hooked your thumbs onto the fabric and pulled it down along with your panties until you were now completely naked under him.

soobin’s eyes raised to connect with yours, “now, are you gonna suck my cock or do i have pay more money, you fucking whore?” you reached for the band of his boxers but he slapped your hands away.

soobin swiped his thumb across your lips, “open.” you did as you were told, mouth open wide with your tongue hanging out as you waited.

“good girl,” soobin smiled. he pulled down his boxers, hard cock slapping against his stomach. you faltered, closing your mouth as you saw just how big he was. soobin pumped himself a couple times before looking at you with a raised brow.

you shook your head a little, ready to speak about how you definitely weren’t fitting him in your mouth before soobin roughly grabbed your chin. “didn’t i say open?” he asked you before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you whimpered into the brief kiss before he pulled away and brought your lips to the tip of his cock.

your mouth opened wider willingly for soobin as you began to swallow him inch by inch. tears pricked in your eyes and you looked up at him when you were about halfway down his cock. soobin’s head was thrown back as small whines left his lips. his hands were entangled in your wet hair, aiding you.

when you stopped, already feeling him at the back of your throat, he looked down at you and moved your head down further. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” soobin asked you and you nodded weakly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “so fucking take it,” he added.

soobin began thrusting into your throat, grunting in pleasure as you moved up and down him. soon, his mouth hung open as warm cum spilled down your throat with his release. soobin pulled you off him, thumb catching his cum that spilled out and pushing it back into your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, “all of it.” your brows furrowed at the salty taste and you swallowed thickly, whimpering at the pain of your bruised throat.

“such a slut…” he trailed when you opened your mouth to show how you swallowed all of his cum. your hips rolled against the couch, needing any bit of friction you can get. “soobin, please…” you whined hoarsely. you needed to feel him inside you. you need to feel how much he stretched out your aching pussy.

“turn around. bend over the top of the couch,” soobin told you. you turned and got up onto the couch, spreading your legs and bending so your ass was in the air for him. his hand smoothed over the curves of your body as he spread you apart.

“already so wet and i haven’t even touched you… you want me to stick my cock inside you, huh, you slut? fill you up?” soobin asked you as he mockingly rubbed his tip against your wet entrance. you bit your bottom lip and nodded, hips pushing back onto him as you stared at him desperately.

“please,” you whined again, “want you to fill me up…” soobin roughly pushed into you and you let out a loud gasp from the suddenness. he pounded into you rigorously, big hands gripping onto your hips as he pulled you towards him to match his pace.

you cried out as your thighs began to tremble. “s-soobin… gonna cum!” you whimpered, biting down hard to try and silence your moans but to no avail.

“yeah? you like that?” soobin hissed between moans as he fucked into you harder, “you like me fucking you like this, whore? you wanna cum around my cock like a good girl?” you nodded desperately and buried your face into your arms as you cried out again from his tip hitting your cervix. the rope in you snapped and your warm cum leaked down soobin’s cock as he continued fucking you, leaving a creamy white ring around his base.

wet sounds filled his living room as you gripped onto the cushion of his couch, “t-too much!” tears wet your cheeks as you looked back at him with furrowed brows.

soobin laughed humorlessly, but it was staggered. he breathed heavily as he pulled you up from the couch, “take it like the slut that you are.” you felt him twitch and he quickly pulled out of you. whining at the sudden loss, soobin flipped you around and cursed lowly before he began pumping his cum covered cock rapidly over your boobs.

his cum shot out onto them, painting them a pretty white as soobin whimpered. he took your chin again and brought his lips to yours roughly as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer as the kiss deepened.

once both of your lungs were on fire, soobin pulled away a little and you could feel the smile on his lips. he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, “i bet your charity will be very pleased with my donation.”

soobin pulled away fully and you shied away from his stare with heated cheeks. the two of you got cleaned up and made your way back out to your charity event. it was dusk now and it seemed like the girls were just about to start wrapping everything up. “the prodigal daughter returns!” soyeon exclaimed, causing the others to laugh.

you hid your face in your hands as you helped them clean up. the four of you ended up raising almost seven million dollars for your charity that day, and your friends made sure to thank “mr. four million.”

hehe wanna read more? click -> here

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @my313 @naomiarai @lunathewritingcat @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @yeonjunsfox @jeonghaniehaee

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ]

[connorsui]

Sylus x wife! Reader || Imagine

"A sticker crown!"

The house was quiet, a warmth settling into every corner as you opened the front door and slipped off your shoes. The soft glow of evening light filtered through the windows, giving the entire place a serene feel. There was no immediate sound of movement downstairs, but something more faint came from upstairs—a soft giggle, the high-pitched sound unmistakable.

"Sylus? ...Are you up there?" you called out, the smile already pulling at your lips.

No answer—just more giggling.

Curious, you made your way up the stairs, your steps slow and deliberate as you approached the source of the sound. The door to your daughter’s room was slightly ajar, and as you pushed it open, the scene that greeted you filled you with pure amusement. Toys were scattered all around the room, dolls and baby pink teddy bears seated around a small tea table with plastic cups clinking on the surface. But the real sight was in the center of the chaos.

There was Sylus, your formidable, commanding husband, lying flat on the floor with his hands clasped on his chest, eyes closed, and a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No, no, Daddy! Stay put! You not pretty yet!" your daughter scolded in the sweetest little voice, her small hands busy rummaging through a pile of stickers.

"I'm as still as I can be, sweetie," Sylus murmured, barely moving a muscle. "I'm not going anywhere."

You covered your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble up as you stepped further into the room, but the moment was short-lived as your daughter spotted you. Her eyes lit up in pure delight, and she gasped as if you’d appeared from nowhere.

"Mummy!, Mummy! Look! Look how pretty Daddy is now!" She scrambled up from her spot, her tiny hand reaching for yours as she dragged you closer to the spectacle. "Daddy won’t scare anymore! People will like Daddy now!"

You bit your lip to contain your laughter when you got a proper look at Sylus. His face, once an intimidating picture of authority and dominance, was now decorated with Hello Kitty stickers and glittering stars. The contrast was almost too much to handle.

“Well, don’t you look handsome as ever?” you teased, standing over him with an affectionate grin.

Sylus cracked an eye open and smirked. "And how can I resist? My own princess demands I become a statue for her enjoyment."

“You are fulfilling your role quite beautifully," you said, trying to peel one of the stickers off his cheek, only for your daughter to intervene, placing her tiny hand on yours with the fiercest pout she could manage.

“No, Mummy! Daddy needs to be pretty!”

You and Sylus exchanged a glance, amused as ever, while your daughter grabbed a fresh set of stickers, picking the sparkliest one of the bunch. With a proud smile, she pressed a glittery star right onto Sylus’ nose.

"Yaaay!"

Before you could respond, Sylus' smirk widened. "Princess, why don’t you add some of your beauty onto Mommy? Make her feel just as pretty as me."

Your daughter, to both your surprise, frowned and shook her head, her little hands resting on her hips. "No! Mommy is already pretty. Mommy doesn’t need stickers, she’s not mean! Mommy is nice so Mommy doesn’t need to be pretty!"

With that final declaration, she slapped another heart-shaped sticker onto Sylus' forehead, sealing his fate.

That was the last straw—you couldn't hold back anymore, laughter bursting from your lips. "Oh my God," you gasped, wiping at the corner of your eye.

Sylus, however, rolled his eyes dramatically. "Help me here…for once, I'll be the one begging."

“Oh, isn’t that a rarity coming from you?” You knelt beside him, gently peeling off the stickers from his face, one by one.

Meanwhile, your daughter looked on, fidgeting with her toys before tugging on your arm. "Mummy… is it bedtime now?"

You glanced outside, the fading light of the day casting soft shadows across the room. "Yes, sweetie. It’s bedtime. As much as you love playtime, it’s time to rest for now."

"The moon is out?" she asked, tilting her head.

You nodded, peeling the last of the glitter from Sylus' face and then guiding your daughter to her bed. Tucking her in with care, you kissed her forehead. "Yes, the moon is out. But when the sun comes back, you can play more."

She smiled sleepily, already closing her eyes. "Okay… Night, Mummy."

You and Sylus quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind you. As you walked back down the stairs together, you couldn’t help but giggle. “How long has she been doing that to you?” you asked, barely containing your amusement.

Sylus sighed dramatically. “Ever since you left. She said I look too angry and I have to be ‘kind’ more often. She believed her toys and her drawings would do me great favors.”

You chuckled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Well… she’s not wrong. You did look far better than all the years we’ve been together in that moment.”

“Oh really? Is that what I needed to love you?” Sylus arched a brow, his teasing tone back in full force.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, stifling another laugh.

Sylus shook his head, a laugh of his own escaping. “Please... save me next time.”

You grinned, leaning into him. "Sylus, don't be mean."

[yawnderu]

Birthday Boy — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

content: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

"Hey, big guy." You greet, pushing past him while holding a cake on your arms, setting it down on his desk. He simply gives you a confused look, eyebrows raising under the balaclava, closing the door hesitantly.

"Fucking hell." He mutters softly, arms crossing as he rests his back against the wall, his behemoth frame looking down at you as you steal a lighter from his desk, lighting the candles.

"I know you said you don't do birthdays but I just thought you deserve to have a day for yourself, so I kind of... gave you a birthday, I guess." Your embarrassment grows the more he stares you down, a bashful smile growing on your face when he says nothing. Your attention is grabbed by a deep chuckle coming out of him, shaking his head before he walks over to you, skull gloved fingers gently flicking your forehead.

"Why?" Is all he can ask, curiosity tainting his tone before he lets out a soft groan, looking down at the cake decorated with a messily written "Happy Birthday, Simon" and awfully drawn skulls all over. He wouldn't admit it, but he finds it even more charming.

"Just because." You reply shortly, hands making contact with the thin fabric of his black compression shirt, gently holding him by the biceps, guiding him to a chair in front of his desk where the cake was. He lets you drag him without any complaints.

"I'm gonna sing ya happy birthday, okay?" Your words are met with another groan, his elbows going to the table, face resting on his hands as if this situation is stressing him out. He eventually nods his head, looking up at you.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbles, the fire from the candles making his eyes stand out even more in the dim room, the dark brown now a sweet honey color, showing you just how dilated his pupils are as he looks at you. You sing him happy birthday, making a small show out of it with claps and an overly cheery voice, dragging groan after groan out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing as he tries his best to suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

"Make a wish and blow the candles." You encourage after you're done singing, hands gently massaging his sore shoulders as you excitedly wait for him to comply. And he does, hesitantly getting closer to the cake and not doing anything for a few seconds before blowing the candles. A laugh of pure relief escapes your lips once the candles are off, tapping his shoulders gently before letting go.

"Good man. I made the cake, y'know?" You start cutting the cake, making sure to cut an extra big piece for him— with what little he has told you about himself, you can tell it's been a while since he got celebrated— If it even happened at all.

"I can tell." He replies teasingly, tone full of humor as he gets up and narrowly misses a punch thrown his way. He can't help but let out a small laugh, getting into a playful fighting position, pretending to throw a few punches your way and making a show out of making sound effects for each one. None of his punches connect, of course, but you use the opening he left to smear a little bit of frosting on his arm, making him groan loudly.

"Bloody hell." He grumbles, the cheeky smile you shoot him making him playfully roll his eyes. He eventually settles down, sitting in bed and lifting his balaclava halfway, tasting the sweet treat. He takes his time to savor it, nodding his head in approval as he looks down at you before digging in again.

" 'S good." He praises after another bite, attention now fully on the piece of chocolate cake on his plastic plate. You take this moment to admire the exposed half of his face— his soft jawline and thin pink lips, hints of a stubble covering his cheek and chin, a little bit of his eyeblack tainting his cheeks as well. You feel like a Victorian man seeing ankles, grasping at straws just to admire him.

He gives you a side eye and you look back down at your plate, starting to taste the cake as well, as if you weren't just staring at him like an infatuated hyena. You're too deep in thought to even realize his eyes are on you until you feel his finger smearing frosting on your nose, a laugh of pure disbelief escaping your lips.

"You little cunt—"

[gloomwitchwrites]

Easy Access

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, canon-typical swearing, oral sex (female & male receiving), F/M/M/M/M, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, multiple orgasms, group sex, praise, restraints/restraining

Word Count: 3.7k

A short dress is your idea of an invitation for a bit of fun.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

Under the shade of a tree, you inhale deeply, savoring the fresh spring air.

This is a party. A gathering. A break. A reward for a job well done.

But it’s not like you’re the one in the line of fire. That isn’t your job. Your one and only endeavor at work is making sure Kate Laswell has everything she needs while at the office. Field work is not your specialty, and you’re thankful for that.

You make phone calls. You bring Laswell her coffee. You keep her appointments and meetings. It’s office work. Clerical. But it keeps you safe, fed, and paid.

Amongst the crowd are familiar and unfamiliar faces. There has to be at least sixty people here in total, and yet the space doesn’t feel cramped. You were given an address, and this has to be someone’s backyard, but you couldn’t say who. And if anyone knows, they aren’t saying.

To your left is a large wood patio. It expands across almost the entirety of the back of the house. Most of it is covered by two connecting pergolas. Underneath the pergolas is a massive buffet and open bar. People loiter there, talking and laughing. The patio opens up to a large green space with a small pond and garden near the back fence. The majority of the space is open but there are a few tables and chairs set up. Music comes from speakers you can’t see, and lights line the fence.

It’s all very pleasant, but crowds are not your thing.

You scan the crowd but no one is looking in your direction. Bringing your plastic cup up to your lips, you scan the crowd one more time. Your gaze falls on Captain John Price. He’s having a conversation with someone you don’t recognize, and out of uniform, he’s even more handsome.

There is no silly, floppy hat or beanie. No windbreaker or boots. Price wears a button up shirt, the top two undone and slightly open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He appears so casual and calm, a cool sexiness that instantly sparks heat low in your belly.

Your cup is almost to your lips, pausing as you gaze at him. In this moment—this fleeting second—Price’s gaze finds you. He winks. Smirks. Returns to the conversation.

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you nearly drench the front of your linen dress with red punch.

Glancing away, you only find the rest of Price’s team. Kyle Garrick, John MacTavish, and Simon Riley loiter near the deck. Kyle and Johnny talk, their faces animated and engaged. Simon stands with his arms crossed, but he’s not listening.

He’s staring at you, those dark eyes of his piercing you down to your marrow.

It’s silly, really, how all four of them make your stomach flip. How they each in turn seem to awaken something dark and primal in your blood.

While it doesn’t shame you in the least, you have flirted with all of them. It’s hard not to. Price is the one you see the most, and always makes an effort to stop by to see you if he has business with Laswell. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon all have to go out of their way to see you, but they do it. Often.

And it’s not just the flirting or sultry glances. You’ve allowed them each a touch or two. Of the four, you gave Johnny permission to kiss you. It was chaste. Quick. Nothing that curls the toes. But it turned his face beet-red.

But being with any of them is just a fantasy. It’s unprofessional. And you don’t need to know what Laswell might think of you for taking any further action with them.

Sighing, you turn away from Simon’s penetrating stare. You knock back the red punch, the alcohol in it hardly registering on your tongue. Removing yourself is the best solution. Perhaps you could hide in the bathroom for a bit. Splash some cold water on your face.

Depositing the empty plastic cup in the nearest trashcan, you head for the patio, passing the buffet and open bar, striding inside through the open kitchen doors. You nod in acknowledgement to a few people there, and they match it, but they immediately return to their conversations, not all that interested in your presence.

The nearest bathroom is just off the kitchen, but you want to hide. You aim for the hallway with the intent of entering the bathroom at the very end. No one is really using it, and it’s the perfect place to catch your breath.

As you reach out for the golden bathroom handle, a large hand shoots out, encasing your wrist, haling all movement. You turn sharply, ready to bite back at the man who decided it’s okay to touch you without your permission, only to freeze.

Your eyes widen as you realize who the hand belongs to.

“John,” you whisper. You didn’t even hear him approach. He completely snuck up on you.

“Where you off to?” he asks softly. He looks a little concerned, but there is something else under all of that.

While you want to answer his question, to give in a bit, you don’t enjoy being grabbed.

“Is that your business?” you reply, arching one eyebrow, chest heaving slightly as your heartrate quickens.

John’s head tilts slightly, his gaze assessing for a moment. The two of you are locked in, and you’re not sure if you’ve completely fumbled the exchange. John releases you from his stare but he doesn’t release your wrist.

Instead, he glances over his shoulder, and you follow the movement. Right there, in the hall, are three familiar people.

Kyle and Johnny casually lean against the wall while Ghost stands in the middle, watching the opening of the hallway.

You’re not frightened. Not afraid. If anything, you’re becoming slick between the thighs. There is a reason they’re here, and you want to explore what it is.

Price’s gaze returns to you and his gaze is soft. “Do you want it to be my business?”

You press in a bit, and Price’s mouth forms into a self-satisfied grin. “Does it include all four of you?” you counter.

“It can.”

His grip tightens slightly. The hold is almost desperately possessive.

What the hell. You should just do it. Have some fucking fun for once. If anything, this will be the one and only time. Get this ridiculous need out of your system all at once and be done with them.

“Then make it your business,” you murmur.

Price’s grip remains firm as he pulls you away from the bathroom door. He spins you around, his free hand reaching out to open the door that’s across the hall from the bathroom. You hear the creak of the hinges as it swings inward, and then you’re walking backward into the room, Price herding you along.

Behind him follows Kyle. And behind Kyle, Johnny. Then, finally, Simon. He’s the last to enter the room and the one that shuts the door, locking it without even glancing at it. He leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

Once the door is shut, you expect Price to release you. But he doesn’t. He keeps hold of your wrist, drawing you against him, pinning your arm to your chest. With his other hand, Price clasps your chin between thumb and forefinger, keeping your face pointed in his direction.

“You want to back out?” he asks. “Just say the word. We’ll stop.”

Do you want to stop? No. Your blood is buzzing, nearly burning beneath your skin. You want to see where this goes, and how much you can take before you’re unable to understand reality.

“Nervous, Captain?”

He laughs, throaty and low before his lips come dangerously close to yours. “No, love. I like that you’re willing to share.”

Someone shifts behind Price’s shoulder. Your gaze starts to drift but he jerks you back to attention.

“You’ve been teasing us with that dress,” murmurs Price.

Releasing your wrist, Price drops his hand to lightly tug on the skirt of the linen dress you wear.

It’s incredibly comfortable. The color an off-white. It stops at about mid-lower thigh, a bit above the knee. The top of the dress is solid fabric back and front except for the straps which are crisscrossed, leaving your shoulders and arms mostly bare.

“Didn’t do it on purpose,” you reply just as softly.

Price makes a sound in his throat that goes straight to your pussy. “Somehow I believe that,” he chuckles, fisting your dress even tighter. It only pulls you closer, and even like this, you feel his hardness.

You’re so focused on Price that when another pair of hands join his, you almost jump. Price eases his hold on you a bit, and your body twists in the direction of these new hands. It’s Johnny. He has one hand on the back of your neck while the other plays with the hem of your dress. It’s just a gentle toying, one you don’t entirely notice until his fingers are slipping under it, brushing against your bare thigh.

“You want this? All of us?” Johnny sounds skeptical.

Your lips part at his question, the very image of them taking you one after the other only making you slicker.

You nod, chest heaving. “Yes.”

Price’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip, drawing your attention back to him. There is a pause—a second of breathing—and then he releases you. He walks backward toward the door as Simon moves away from it and Kyle closes in.

Johnny sidesteps, placing himself directly behind you. His hands slide over you, finding new homes. He wraps one around your waist, hand splaying wide over your pelvis. His other reaches down to dip beneath the hem of your dress just shy of your left leg.

You believe that Johnny is going to slide his hand between your clenched thighs. But he doesn’t. His arm hooks under your thigh, pressing up, lifting your foot from the floor. You’re forced to balance on your right foot. You instinctually reach up, grasping the back of Johnny’s neck.

But with Johnny’s support, you don’t topple over. His strength keeps you grounded.

With his hand on your pelvis, Johnny begins to bunch the fabric in his fist, lifting it away from your body. It is slow, almost agonizing in how all of their gazes are fixed on that one point.

You don’t need to see to know when you’re bare. You feel the air against you.

You are open for their inspection, and they do not appear disappointed. If anything, they’re fucking hungry.

“She’s wearing fucking nothing under there,” growls Simon, almost like he’s upset but doesn’t want to be.

“Teasing us on purpose,” says Price not to anyone in particular but to reiterate what he said early, that the dress is a tease, and this is just one more thing to add to it.

Simon moves, striding toward you like a predator. Slowly, his hand clasps the front of your neck, and you instinctually arch into Johnny. Kyle sinks to his knees before you.

“Gaz is gonna eat that pretty pussy,” murmurs Johnny in your ear. His breath is a whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. “And then we’re all going to fuck you. One after the other. Fill you with our cum. You want that, love?”

You crave them like a nourishing meal. Accepting won’t hurt. It’ll only fill the gap, satiating the thirst that boils in your blood.

“Yes,” you affirm, putting all the control in their hands now.

“Good girl,” growls Simon, gently squeezing, those dark eyes of his locking in on your parted lips.

Kyle’s hands are on your thighs. They rotate. Squeeze. Slide toward your hip bone.

“Look at that,” he says, absently. Kyle’s fingers lightly brush over your sex. Then, he is parting you with two fingers, and in that glide, you can hear just how wet you are.

“Hardly touched you,” croons Kyle, his mouth dangerously close to what’s aching for him.

He leans in, and goes in for a taste. It’s tentative. Testing. Just a little touch of his tongue against flesh. But it’s enough for your pussy to clench, for you to whimper as if he’s completely pressed his mouth to you.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Johnny. He nuzzles your neck, gaze downward.

You’re watching too. Everyone is. There is no point in hiding anything. You are spread open.

Kyle’s tongue dips again, this time tracing a line between his two fingers. He starts at your entrance, teasing it before moving upward to circle your clit slowly. He is languid about it. Taking his time like there isn’t a party happening just outside the door.

“Oh, you’re sweet, love,” he murmurs before going in fully.

There is no tracing of his tongue. It is only steady strokes and gentle flicks against your clit. Kyle knows what he’s doing. He knows to stick to a specific pace. To not change course. He feasts until your legs shake and it is only Johnny’s strength keeping you aloft.

The clench comes, shuddering outward. Your breathing intensifies, becoming desperate gasps as Kyle continues to work your clit. Simon still holds onto the front of your throat, and he does not let go.

“Look at me,” croons Simon, tilting your head in his direction. “At me. My eyes.”

Johnny murmurs sweet nothings against your throat as he watches Kyle lick and then suck your clit into his mouth.

Your hips buck against Kyle’s mouth as your orgasm consumes, absorbing all your strength, turning your muscles into sticky goo.

There are lips pressing against your inner thigh, and then Kyle’s voice drifts up from between your legs. “She’s ready.”

“But we aren’t,” replies Simon.

Johnny guides your leg down until your foot is flat again. From there, he presses on your shoulders, and you automatically sink to your knees.

“Be good and suck Gaz’s cock,” commands Simon as his hand slides from the front to the back of your neck.

Johnny steps back, his presence evaporating as Kyle undoes the front of his jeans. You are hungry. Feral. Desperate. The moment Kyle’s cock his free from his jeans, you’re reaching for him, sucking him down.

Kyle groans loudly, head tilting back as you throat him to the root.

“Fucking beautiful,” comes Johnny’s voice somewhere behind and to the right of you.

Simon grunts in agreement, his hand still firmly planted on your neck. His fingers dig into your hair, and even though you have some control, Simon has the rest.

He keeps you on your knees and your head still as Kyle thrusts shallowly into your mouth. You are wet between your thighs, the skin there rubbing against itself. Your hands rise to grab the front of Kyle’s jeans, but Johnny tuts, grasping both arms and holding them behind you.

“Breathe through your nose. Good girl. Like that.” These praises are all Simon, and you desperately want to please him.

You’re nearly still as Kyle claims your throat. But he’s careful. Thoughtful. He’s fucking your mouth yet he knows your limit. When your throat contracts, wanting to gag, he retreats until you’ve caught your breath, only to return to his pace from before.

“Fuck,” he mutters, abruptly pulling out of your mouth. You cough, saliva and cum coating your lips and chin. “Bend her over the edge of the bed.”

Johnny releases your arms and Simon is the one that helps you to your feet.

“Look at me,” says Simon, drawing you attention to his face. “You good?”

This can all end if you want it to, but you don’t. You’re not full. Not whimpering. You want them inside.

“I’m good,” and your answer is a bit raspy.

Simon nods and then he’s turning you around, his hands pressing on your back until you’re completely bent.

The bed is a bit high, and you have to go up on your toes. Your hands dig into the comforter, but you don’t feel stable. Not really.

There are hands on your thighs. They drive upward, flipping your dress up to expose your ass to the room. One of those hands comes down on the right cheek. It isn’t hard, just enough to bounce it.

“Open for us,” says Simon. You wiggle your hips, sliding your feet outward slightly. “More, love. Yes. Perfect.”

Simon shifts partially into view, and then he’s grabbing your forearms, holding you down to the bed itself. You have no idea who is behind you, but you feel the head of their cock at your entrance.

There is no condom, and you do not give a fuck. You want to feel each of them in turn, to feel them fill you up, to fuck each other’s cum deeper into you.

The head presses in. Enters. And then you’re being filled, being fed more and more until you’re stuffed. You moan loudly.

“Taking me so well,” groans Johnny as you clamp around him. “Bloody hell you’re tight.”

Johnny squeezes your ass, guiding your hips up slightly as he starts to drive in. The angle is deep, and your feet slide against the floor. He isn’t soft, but he’s not rough either. Johnny is steady, rolling his hips deep enough to hit that sweet spot.

You are soft. Pliant. Smiling against the comforter as Johnny fucks you. His soft grunts become gentle groans. Then his hips stutter, thrust forward, creating a seal. You feel his release flood your pussy, and you purposefully tighten those muscles, encouraging him to stay inside.

And Johnny does, for a moment.

He lightly pats your ass before withdrawing. The loss of him is immediate, and yet there is another ready to take his place. Simon does not move from his spot. You turn your head and find Price still leaning against the door. There is an apparent bulge in the front of his pants.

It is Kyle that settles behind you, and like Johnny, he finds the same rhythm. While Johnny felt girthy, Kyle is absolute perfection. The stretch is good but not too tight, and even though every stroke is pointedly deep, there is nothing but pleasure.

Kyle’s hand slips between the bed and your body. He finds your clit. Toys with it. Plays. You’re still a bit sensitive from your last orgasm, and the next one comes up suddenly. You cry out, squeezing on him as he finishes.

In that blissful state, you don’t notice Simon removing his hands from your forearms. It isn’t until he’s driving inside that you realize it, and you nearly come off the bed. Simon is absurdly large, and your back arches, fingers digging into the comforter as your groan into it.

Simon is not as gentle as them. He fucks their cum into you like he’s made to do so.

And Price is still off to the side. Still watching. Almost indifferent except for that outline in his pants.

Simon’s only tell is a low grunt before he too is finishing inside you.

You are overly stuffed. Full. Simon removes his cock from your pussy as their mixed cum begins to drip out onto your thighs.

You think Price will come. That he will take Simon’s place. Instead, you’re being moved, flipped onto your back. Your legs are brought up, and then Johnny is back, sliding home again. Simon stands to the right of him. He reaches out, runs his hand over your stomach before delving down to find your clit.

Simon circles it as Johnny’s cock pistons in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours sharply with each thrust. It isn’t long before the muscles in your body seize and then relax. Johnny doesn’t find his end until Simon has you clenching a second time.

Johnny steps back, a pleased grin on his face as he stuffs himself back into his pants. Your legs are weak noodles and you’re thankful for the bed beneath you.

Price pushes off from the door. He walks casually, his hands slowly undoing and then removing his belt. You push up onto your elbows, adjusting. Price observes you. His gaze is on your face and then it drops to your pussy.

Reaching out, Price runs his fingers through the mess between your legs.

“Mind if I add to that?” he asks, gaze returning to your face.

You smile and spread your legs wider.

“Good fucking girl,” he croons.

Price grasps your thighs and drags you to the edge of the bed. Shoving his pants down enough to free his cock, he rubs the head over the mess, coating himself in it.

He lines himself up, and then buries himself to the hilt. Your fingers dig into the bed and then reach for him. Price adjusts his grip on your thighs, pressing them up a bit and toward your chest.

You are at his mercy as he drives into you. The only sounds in the room are your breathy moans and the obscene wetness that is your pussy.

All those flirty invitations and teasing smiles has led to this. And you don’t entirely mind if this is all it is. That the five of you are just working it all out of your systems. You’re completely satisfied.

As Price’s thrusts becoming erratic, he lets go of your thigh only to grasp your throat. He leans forward as he brings you up off the bed. You are scrunched, and when his lips meet yours, you come undone just as he does.

You hang. Suspended. And then you’re melting into the soft comforter.

Someone is cleaning you up, wiping away the excess mess. And then you’re brought to your feet. Everything is unsteady as you focus on who it is holding you.

“Good? Or you need a minute?” Price’s palm runs over your hair, smoothing it.

“I need a minute,” you murmur, because it’s true.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon all start to file out. With the balaclava you can’t discern Simon’s expression. But Kyle is smug. Content. Johnny is almost sheepish, his cheeks slightly flushed as they leave.

It is over. Done.

Price runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you ever want this again, you know where to find me.”

He leans forward as if to kiss you but instead brushes his lips against the curve of your cheek. He gives your hand a squeeze. A silent goodbye.

Then he too is gone. The door shut.

You place your hand over your chest and laugh as a trail of cum slips down the inside of your thigh.

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[punkshort]

i know who you are | 8. the return

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You help Joel recover from his injuries and you finally confront your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mutual pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, descriptions of wounds/injuries, some smutty situations but nothing very explicit, dare I say fluff?

WC: 8.2K

Series Masterlist

"Joel, wake up."

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

"C'mon. You gotta get up."

"Five more minutes," he mumbled.

"Joel," you tried again, your voice sounding so far away. Why did you sound so far away? "Joel, please wake up. I need you."

You needed him. Okay. For you, he would wake up.

His eyelids fluttered.

"Joel?"

Your voice didn't sound so far away now.

"Joel? Can you hear me?"

Fuck, his head hurt. His side hurt. Everything fucking hurt.

Then he remembered.

He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the bright light until he focused on you. You.

You were so pretty. So, so pretty, standing next to his bed with that little worried crease between your eyebrows, leaning over him. You didn't need to be so worried. Don't be worried.

Your eyes brightened when he saw you and he slowly began to recognize where he was.

He was back in Jackson. At the infirmary, in a bed.

You jumped up, calling over your shoulder for Nick and Tommy before turning back to him and grasping his hand.

"Are you in pain?"

He didn't answer. He just stared at you, dumbfounded, his brain struggling to catch up. He squeezed your hand and you gave him a shaky smile.

Tommy and Nick barged into the room and you dropped his hand. Nick began to take his vitals while Tommy tried to stay out of the way, but Joel's focus remained on you. He watched as you drifted around the room on autopilot, handing Nick instruments and supplies from a table, then disappearing out into the hall when he asked you to get some medicine he had no idea how to pronounce.

"What's your pain like, Joel?" Nick asked, reading the blood pressure cuff.

He opened his mouth to answer but immediately started coughing. Tommy twisted around to grab the water bottle next to the sink and Nick lifted it to his lips. "Slow," he reminded him, so Joel sipped slowly then sat back with a sigh.

He was so tired.

"Your pain?"

Joel took a deep breath and winced.

"Ain't great," he croaked, voice all gravelly. You came back into the room and handed Nick the medicine, giving Joel a reassuring smile. God, he missed you so much.

He heard Nick ask you to fill a syringe for him and Joel watched you work, your hands steady and your breath even as you concentrated on getting the dosage exactly right.

"Joel? Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" he asked in a daze, dragging his eyes to his brother.

"I said, what the hell happened out there?" Tommy was pressed up against the wall, making himself as small as possible while you and Nick worked.

"Ran into some raiders- fuck!" he exclaimed when the needle entered his skin.

"Sorry," Nick murmured before pulling it out.

"Where?" Tommy asked, and Joel shook his head.

"Not 'round here. Out in California."

Everyone in the room paused to look at him.

"You got this fucked up out in Cali and you made it back?" Tommy asked in disbelief, and Joel slowly nodded his head. "Fuckin'... how?"

Joel's eyes found yours again, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.

"Had a guardian angel," he said, his eyelids beginning to droop.

"The hell does that mean?" Tommy asked. Joel pointed to his pack on the floor.

"Side pocket."

Nick lifted the blanket covering Joel's bare torso so he could inspect his wounds, which had been freshly cleaned and patched up in his sleep. Then he heard the telltale sound of pills rattling in a plastic bottle.

"You found meds out there?" his brother asked, rolling the bottle around in his palm before handing it over to Nick.

"Mhm," was all he said, then watched as you looked over Nick's shoulder to read the label. Your eyes went wide with surprise then looked up at him.

Your lips parted like you wanted to say something, then your gaze darted to the other two men in the room and you decided against it.

"This probably saved you from getting sepsis," Nick said before placing the bottle on the small table next to his bed. "I'm gonna need to keep you here for a bit," and as Joel began to protest, Nick held up his hand. "Just for a bit, I said. Til you get your strength up and I feel confident you don't got any infection or serious internal damage. Then you can go home and recover."

You could see the turmoil in Joel's face. He wanted to go home, he wanted to be in the comfort of his own bed after a week of putting himself through hell.

"I'll stay here overnight, keep an eye on him and come get you if anything seems off," you said, and all three men paused to look at you in surprise. You shrugged and cleared your throat. "Unless you don't-"

"No," Joel said, cutting you off. His throat felt so tight all of the sudden. "Please stay."

Nick and Tommy exchanged glances before shifting around the room, gathering used instruments and picking up Joel's discarded, bloody clothes.

"I'll grab the cot for you," Nick said on his way out the door.

"Do you need anythin' from home?" Tommy asked and you quickly shook your head.

"I'll be fine."

Joel wanted to tell you everything, but he could feel himself fading. Another time, he thought as you rolled out the cot on the floor next to his bed. You turned off the light before he drifted off to sleep, finally being able to properly rest now that he was back with you.

It took five whole days until Nick finally agreed to let him go home. You stayed with him every night, only going back home to shower and get fresh clothes once a day. It seemed like he was always surrounded by Tommy or Ellie or Nick and there was never a good time to talk to you. He wanted to tell you why he did what he did, he wanted to give you some comfort. But any time the two of you were alone, it was always too brief or he was asleep.

Unbeknownst to Joel, you were struggling with the same issue. You wanted to get some time alone together so you could talk to him about everything you had a chance to reflect on while he was gone, but you knew it would likely be a long and emotional conversation and you really didn't want to do it at work.

There was so much that needed to be said, but the rare few minutes you had alone together you spent holding his hand or feeding him or gently wiping the sweat off his forehead and chest with a wet washcloth. You hoped your actions spoke louder than the words you weren't brave enough to say.

Nick helped you restock your first aid kit at home while Tommy got Joel settled back in his bed. You could hear them talking from the hallway, Tommy scolding his brother when he didn't listen to him and he ended up wincing in pain.

"So you're gonna want to make sure he takes this twice a day with food," Nick said, handing you a bottle of orange pills. "For inflammation. Til you run out, then he should be good. And this is only if the pain gets intolerable," he handed you a small baggie of four white pills and narrowed his eyes. "Use them sparingly, we don't have much."

"I know."

"He shouldn't need any more antibiotics but be sure to take his temperature throughout the day and push the fluids. If the numbers get over 102 for more than four hours, come get me right away."

"Okay," you nodded, hoping your sleep deprived brain was absorbing everything.

"Maria agreed to help out at the infirmary for the next couple days, so take as much time as you need. You know I can manage without you," Nick said, and you gave him a feigned look of hurt. "I can manage, I said. Doesn't mean I prefer it," he told you with a roll of his eyes and you had a stifle a laugh. Tommy stepped out of Joel's room and joined you at the top of the stairs.

"All good?"

"I think so," you said, looking back down at the pills Nick gave you.

"You need anythin', you just holler, sugar," Tommy said and you gave him a tired smile in return. The two men walked down the steps and saw themselves out while you filled a glass with water from the sink in the bathroom, bringing it to Joel.

"How are you feeling?" you asked him for what felt like the millionth time in a week.

"Not bad," he said truthfully. You handed him the water and although he wasn't thirsty, he still drank it because it seemed to make you happy and he really liked when you took care of him.

You shifted your weight and glanced around the room awkwardly.

"Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Do you want me to get you a book or something?"

Joel smiled and dropped his gaze to the floor. You were so fucking cute and it was killing him.

"I'm good."

"Good," you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to find another reason to stay. When you couldn't think of one, you sighed and hitched your thumb over your shoudler.

"I'll be right next door and I'll leave the doors open. If you need anything or if you're in pain-"

"I know," he said, giving you a soft smile as you tried your best to not stare at his bare chest peeking out from the top of the sheets.

"Okay, then," you said, backing out of the room. "Good night."

You had no idea how long you laid in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while your mind raced and your fingers tapped anxiously against your chest. You couldn't sleep. It must have been hours because the light flicking off in Joel's room felt like ages ago and you hadn't heard any shuffling since.

It's this bed, you thought to yourself. It was the first time in a long time you slept in your own bed and you just couldn't get comfortable.

Or maybe you were too worried about him, even though it seemed like most of his strength was back. The color returned to his cheeks and he was able to stay awake most of the day. Deep down, you knew there wasn't a need to be concerned about him at that point. In all likelihood he was out of the woods. But you still felt the urge to check on him. Just in case.

You slid out of bed and tiptoed quietly out of your room, walking the few feet to Joel's door and leaning against the frame. You tried to observe him from a distance but it was hard to see in the dark, so you crept closer.

He was sound asleep, his hands resting peacefully over his soft stomach, his lips parted ever so slightly as he lightly snored. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked at the other side of the bed. Deciding not to overthink it, you closed the door and silently made your way around the foot of the bed and slipped underneath the covers with a quiet sigh.

Just for a minute, you thought. You had just grown so accustomed to sleeping in his bed, that's all. But before you knew it, his steady breathing and soft pillows lulled you into a deep sleep.

The sun bled through the curtains, inching across the floorboards and slowly made its way up the sheets until it found your face, but you didn't wake. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the warmth underneath you, far too comfortable to bother waking up just yet.

Joel, however, had been awake before the sun even rose.

He had felt your arms wrapped around his waist at some point towards the early morning. He had managed to turn so your head rested against his bare chest while you continued to sleep so peacefully. It was far too tempting. He fucking ached for you for so long and to wake up and find you in his bed caused his heart to flutter wildly in his chest and all his blood to rush directly between his legs.

He had been doing okay. He was content with just holding you, feeling you, pretending things were back to normal, if only for a little while, but when you nuzzled into his chest and tightened your grip around his waist, he couldn't resist burying his nose in your hair and breathing in deep. He missed you so much it fucking hurt. It was torture, fighting the urge to pull you into him every day and crawl into bed with you at night. He knew it would backfire one day, all his pent up emotions. When Angie caught him during a particularly low point at the Tipsy Bison, drunk and sad and missing you so fucking much, it all blew up in his face. Kissing her was a mistake but he was just so goddamn lonely. He didn't realize how much he had come to depend on your touch to soothe him until he no longer had it.

He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.

He thought he ruined everything in one moment of weakness, but here you were, tucked safely into his side, sound asleep in his arms and he didn't even dare question what brought you into his bed because all that mattered was you were there now. And you made that decision yourself. You sought him out. You wanted to be with him.

Testing the waters, he carefully pressed a kiss on the top of your head, and when you didn't react, he did it again. Sliding his eyes closed, he dragged his lips a little lower, kissing your forehead while he savored the feeling of your breath fanning over his neck. Other than your fingertips fluttering slightly against his stomach, you still didn't move, so he kissed your forehead again. You were so warm and you smelled just like him that he quickly felt himself getting lost in his desire. His kisses became faster and more urgent, finally causing your breathing to change and your body to stir. He knew you were waking but he kept his eyes closed, too afraid of seeing apathy in the face that used to be filled with such love for him.

He was just setting himself up for more heartbreak but he couldn't seem to stop.

His lips traveled a little lower, pressing tenderly against your temple, bracing himself for when you would inevitably push him away. Maybe you weren't fully awake yet because you remained perfectly still, so he continued to take and take, his kisses becoming feverish as he brushed over your eyelids. God, he missed this so much. He missed these lazy mornings with you. They were rare, but on days neither of you had any other commitments you would lounge in bed for as long as your stomachs would allow, holding each other close, getting lost under the sheets.

His time was coming to an end now. Your arms loosened around his waist and soon you would realize where you were and who you were with and it would all be over. He breathed deeply, as if he could bottle you for later. Maybe his sheets would trap your scent. He really hoped they would. He could use another good night's sleep and having you at his side had always ensured that, but he could pretend as long as his pillow still smelled like you.

With his lips still roaming over your brow, you stretched your legs and let out a breathy little noise that made his cock twitch and his stomach tense. He kept his eyes screwed shut, hoping you would assume he was half asleep and therefore unaware of his lips dragging across your face. He didn't want to lie to you again but his heart could only handle so much rejection.

He felt your eyes flutter open, your eyelashes tickling his neck and he really should have stopped kissing you at that point, but it felt like he was spiraling out of control. Like his body had enough of constantly being denied what it craved.

You paused for a moment, giving your brain a chance to catch up. Figuring out where you were and why you were there. Any second now, you would pull away. He kept bracing for it, his heart thundering in his chest now that it knew time was running out, that this feeling of bliss was about to end and it was scrambling to hold on to every split second.

Thinking it would be the last chance, he kissed the corner of your eye and then your cheek. There was no way he would be able to pretend he was still asleep now, but he didn't care. He was growing frantic, his need for you overwhelming, even if this was all he could get, it would have to sustain him until he could figure out how to earn back your trust.

His eyes flew open when your lips pressed wetly against his neck. He froze, his mouth hovering over your ear, waiting to see what you would do next.

Then you did it again. Only this time, you sucked on a bit of his skin, leaving the beginnings of a red mark he would cherish for days.

Before you could blink, he rolled over, his body caging you in underneath him as he examined you with wide and hopeful eyes. You gazed up at him, your breath shallow and your lips parted as your eyes roamed over his face, taking in every freckle and every wrinkle up close. His beard was getting grayer in spots you hadn't noticed before, somehow adding to his appeal. His lips looked dry from the cold but his eyes looked bright and clear and the way the sun was beaming in through the window behind him, his messy curls sticking up every which way made it look like he was wearing a halo.

With a shaky hand, you reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. It was so much softer than you expected. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch. You watched his throat work as he swallowed nervously and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste the skin there again, so you did. Leaning up, your lips suckled at the spot between his jaw and neck, his pulse strong and fast under your tongue. A reminder that he was alive and healthy and finally back home. Your nails raked against his scalp and you sucked at his skin a little harder, a little more urgently, a little more desperately and then he was the first to break.

He whimpered.

He fucking whimpered and that was all it took for you to maneuver slightly under him and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close.

Fuck. He was hard. You felt it in the loose confines of his sweatpants, bobbing against your center when you pulled him down further and it set something on fire inside of you.

You brought your other hand up to get lost in his hair, giving it a tug to pull his head back just a bit so you could angle your mouth over his and you latched onto him hungrily, the contact sending a jolt through your entire body. He slipped his tongue past your teeth and finally allowed himself to touch you, hand cupping your jaw at first, then dropping to grip your ass under the sheets before sliding up your shirt, rough fingers skating up your stomach, then brushing over your tightened nipples, drawing out a sweet little moan which he swallowed down eagerly.

He flattened his hand over your heart, leaving it there as he licked into your mouth, both your jaws pried open as far as they could go, as if you were trying to swallow the other whole. He could feel your heart pounding through your chest, like it was trying to break free and jump into his palm. Like it was saying here, take me, I'm yours. And if you were to untangle your hands from his hair and place one over his own racing heart, he had no doubt you would hear what it was screaming in his chest.

I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I'm so sorry, please forgive me.

And of course you forgave him. He was in just as much pain as you. Both of you had been mourning the same person without even realizing it.

And none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not in that moment, anyway. The two of you tangled together, the early morning glow from the sun washing over you, wrapping you up safe and sound in each other's arms.

You dropped your hands, abandoning his hair, nails dragging over his broad shoulders and leaving little red trails in their wake. His own hand slid down from your chest to grab your hip, pulling you impossibly closer to him, forcing you to feel how hard he was for you. All for you.

His facial hair burned your chin but you didn't mind. In fact, it felt good. You chased the feeling, pushing your mouth even harder against him, wanting to make sure you would feel that burn for the rest of the day.

Then you heard a knock on the front door.

Joel didn't react.

Either too lost in the moment or unwilling to allow it to end. Your hands drifted lower, over his relatively smooth chest and over his ribs, your fingertips dancing over each one like piano keys, careful to avoid his wound.

Another knock, louder now, made you pause. Breaking free and turning your head slightly to the side to open your eyes, you tried to listen, but Joel's mouth just slid down your jaw, nipping playfully as he went before biting gently on your earlobe. You gasped softly, momentarily forgetting about the door, your back arching underneath him. His tongue flattened against the hollow of your exposed throat, his exhale tickled your skin and caused a wave of goosebumps to emerge and he smirked, tongue still lavishing your neck as his fingers dug harder into your hip, like he was afraid to let you go.

Now you heard the front door unlock and carelessly swing open, but Joel still didn't stop.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice raspy from disuse. He only hummed in response, then his mouth latched onto your clothed breast, his tongue flicking against the thin material and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out because you heard Ellie's voice now, along with Tommy's, making their way up the stairs.

"Joel!" you said, firmer this time and pushing him back. His dark eyes snapped up to yours, his parted lips wet and swollen as he gasped for air. Thankfully, it sounded like they had tried the master bedroom first. You heard Tommy's heavy steps enter your bathroom before walking back out into the hall and it finally clicked with Joel that you were no longer alone.

"Fuck," he muttered right before the door swung open. He dropped his upper body to cover yours best he could, protecting your modesty even though you were still fully clothed.

"Shit! Sorry!" Tommy exclaimed, backing out of the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as embarrassment flooded your veins, tucking your face into Joel's neck to hide.

"What-" you heard Ellie say from the hall, then the door slammed shut, leaving just you and Joel. The two of you stayed frozen, his body still pinning yours into the mattress under the covers, legs still wrapped around his waist as you listened to Tommy and Ellie's hushed voices trail down the stairs.

"Fuck," he sighed again, dropping his head against your shoulder.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as the both of you slowly regained your senses. Your hands drifted lightly over his back as he nuzzled into your neck, and you were perfectly content to remain just like that, but unfortunately he pushed himself up on his elbows with a sigh.

"I should go see what he wants," he murmured, giving you a heated look that told you talking to his brother was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Okay," you squeaked, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something else but decided against it and instead sat up with a grunt. You pulled the covers back over you, the cool morning air prickling your skin now that you didn't have his body heat to keep you warm, and watched as he fumbled around the room for a discarded shirt. When his back was turned, he tried to subtly tuck his throbbing cock into his waistband, but you noticed and bit back a grin. Secretly, you were grateful for the interruption. As much as you wanted him, you needed to take things slow.

He walked down the stairs, his pace slower than usual as he favored his side with the wound. When his eyes met Tommy's in the kitchen, he saw the flash of guilt across his face for interrupting what was shaping up to be a really good fucking morning.

"Sorry," he said again, glancing quickly at the back of Ellie's head as she rummaged through the pantry for something to eat, completely oblivious to what they almost walked in on. "The kid let me in."

"Yeah, I got that," Joel grumbled as he made his way to the coffee maker and flipped the switch.

"Hey Joel, can I take this?" Ellie held up a box of granola bars and he nodded. She ripped into one and practically shoved half of it into her mouth. "How's it feel to be back home?" she asked with a mouthful of sticky oats. Joel made a disgusted face at the visual and she smirked at his reaction.

"Good," was all he said, turning away before the heat crept up his neck. It felt really fucking good to be home. "So what's goin' on?" he asked Tommy, who was leaning up against the kitchen sink.

"Couple of guys found some tracks this mornin'," Tommy began, and the hairs on the back of Joel's neck stood up.

"Tracks?" you questioned as you appeared in the doorway in a fresh set of clothes. Joel tried not to let his gaze linger on you, noting with a sick sense of pride that your neck still looked a little pink from his mouth, but it was hard. He should have just stayed in bed with you.

"Doesn't look like a big group," he said as Joel's face fell. "It ain't your fault-"

"They followed me here, Tommy," Joel rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"We'll handle it," Tommy replied calmly while you and Ellie sat down silently at the table to listen. "Shit was bound to happen sooner or later."

"Goddamnit," Joel growled angrily under his breath. "I shoulda been more careful. Stupid fuckin'-"

"Joel, you were passed out on the back of a horse," Tommy reasoned, "it's a miracle you even made it back at all. The tracks were a few miles south, I'm gonna get a group together later this mornin' and see what we can find."

"I'll go with you," he said but before Tommy could respond, you piped up.

"No, you're not."

Joel twisted around, taking in the alarmed look on your face. He held your gaze for a moment, your eyes pleading with him. Please don't. I just got you back. He immediately caved.

"Okay," he agreed, and you visibly relaxed with a smile. You desperately wanted to go to him, pull him close and thank him for listening to you, but your audience held you back.

Ellie glanced between the two of you with a knowing grin, finally sensing the change in the room.

"I wasn't lookin' for volunteers, anyway," Tommy said, breaking the heavy silence and pushing off the counter. "Just comin' by to tell you what's goin' on. We're headin' out in an hour, I'll stop by later and let you know what we find."

The coffee maker beeped and Joel grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. "Be careful out there," he told his brother as Tommy slid on his boots and swung open the door. "Don't do anythin' stupid."

"That's rich, comin' from you," he replied with a chuckle and Ellie snorted. Joel shot him a glare before he left, pouring coffee into each of your mugs. He took a grateful sip before bringing yours to the table and sat down. The both of you sipped your coffees in silence, eyes glued to the table while trying to ignore the obvious tension building. Ellie began to connect the dots and stood up.

"I should get going," she announced.

"You don't have to-"

"Stay and warm up a bit-"

She cut you both off. "I got shit to do. Homework and all that," she said, lying through her teeth as she headed for her boots. "Don't worry, I'll lock it behind me," she teased, slipping out the front door while your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.

"Jesus," you muttered and Joel had to hold back a laugh. He stared down at his coffee, the mug now half filled with the dark, steaming liquid as he struggled to come up with something to say. There was so much he didn't even know where to start.

"Oh! Your meds!" you exclaimed, jumping up from your chair to retrieve the little orange pills Nick gave you the night before. "He said you need to take these with food. Let me make you something," you told him while you shuffled around pots and pans, looking for anything to keep yourself busy.

He sat back in his chair and watched you move around the kitchen with ease. Pulling oatmeal out of the pantry, measuring it out, boiling the pot with water.

You looked nervous. The thought made him smile. He made you nervous.

Right as you turned the burner off and grabbed a bowl you felt his hands circle your hips. You sighed and couldn't resist melting against him, closing your eyes for a moment and resting the back of your head against his shoulder while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"Thank you," he whispered while pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear.

"It's just oatmeal," you whispered back. He swallowed and shook his head before planting another kiss in the same spot.

"No, it's not."

You knew what he was trying to say and it made your heart swell. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for staying. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"You're welcome," you replied, your voice wavering a bit as you turned around in his arms. You laced your fingers together behind his neck and gazed up at him, examining every wrinkle and scar, fighting the urge to kiss each and every one.

"I love you," he said softly while his thumbs tucked underneath the hem of your shirt, searching for any bit of your soft skin he could find. "I know you can't say it back yet and that's okay. I just really needed to tell you."

You blinked back your tears and nodded, pulling him down to your level and slotting your lips together once again. He sighed as his shoulders relaxed and for the first time everything just felt right so you tentatively flicked your tongue over his lower lip. You felt him smile before he allowed you to deepen the kiss, your tongue slowly and deeply massaging his as he pulled your body closer, pressing you firmly against him.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest when you raked your fingers through his hair, your knees practically buckling at the sound. He walked you backwards until you felt the counter pressing against your back, his kisses growing hungrier and his fingers gripping your hips tighter.

"Your food's getting cold," you mumbled, turning your face towards the oatmeal cooling on the stove.

"Don't care," he said, his lips grazing over your throat. He missed you so much and now that he finally had you, he couldn't get enough. When he dropped to his knees, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans and his mouth ghosting over the apex of your thighs, you gasped and grabbed his hair, stopping him.

"I-I'm not ready for all that yet," you admitted as the warmth of embarrassment flooded your cheeks and chest. "I'm sorry, I know you've been waiting for so long-"

"Shh, it's okay," he said sincerely, then stood back up with a grunt. He cupped your face and gave you a gentle kiss. "I can wait. I'll wait forever, I don't care," he still cradled your jaw as he nuzzled his nose alongside yours.

"This is all I ever want, anyway," he whispered, and you smiled.

It was the first day of your fresh start.

Nick had offered you time off to care for Joel but it quickly became apparent as the day went on that he was doing far better than any of you expected.

He only had a little trouble going up the stairs so the two of you spent the rest of the day in the living room. You had thought he was going to try and nap so you busied yourself with a book, his head resting in your lap as your fingers absentmindedly carded through his curls while you read on the couch, the fire crackling next to you. It wasn't until you lifted your hand to flip a page when you noticed his eyes on you and you grinned.

"I thought you were going to try and sleep?"

"Not very tired," he replied, gently reaching up for your wrist and putting your hand back in his hair. "Feels real nice," he explained. You put your book face down, the spine spread open to hold your place, and began playing with his hair again.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

"Did you go to my parents' house?"

Shit. In all the chaos since arriving back in Jackson he never had a chance to tell you.

"Yes," he said, staring up at you from your lap, watching as the shadow from the flames danced across your face.

"Is that where it happened?" you asked, your eyes traveling to the side where he was stabbed. He nodded and you sniffled, dropping your gaze to the floor. "I thought so. Because of the pills," you said quietly, "my name was on the bottle."

"I know," he replied, watching as your eyes clouded with guilt. He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"You got hurt because of me," you said, lower lip trembling. "If I hadn't been so immature we could've talked about it but instead I pushed you away and you almost died trying to prove a point-"

"Hey," he cut you off and sat up next to you, "it's not your fault, don't you dare think that, alright?" He cupped your face but you still refused to meet his eye. "I fucked up. It was on me, okay? I fucked up with Angie and I fucked up out there."

"You could've died," you said, two tears trickling down your cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs.

"But I didn't."

You took in a shaky breath and finally looked at him. "Don't do something like that ever again," you told him, an undercurrent of anger in your voice, and he smirked.

"Yes, ma'am."

He dropped his hold on your face and leaned back, stretching his arm across the top of the couch. "Can't deny it got results, though," he teased after a moment and you shot him a glare but he could see you biting back a smile. You picked up your book, leaning into his shoulder just a bit as you continued to read and he stared into the fire, his mind still reeling to catch up with how fast things changed. It felt like a dream.

"What did you go there for, anyway?"

Joel rolled his eyes. "It sounds so stupid now."

You put your book back down and twisted to face him. "I'm sure it's not."

With a groan, Joel pushed himself up from the couch and began to rummage through his backpack, which remained idle next to the door since the day before. You tucked your legs underneath you and watched curiously.

When he pulled out a familiar looking binder, a faded beige color with a black trim, you could have sworn your heart stopped.

"I wanted to give you somethin' that you would recognize. Somethin' that felt like home," he began, holding it out to you. "Maybe bring you some comfort or... I don't know. Like I said, it sounds stupid now."

"No," you whispered as you carefully took the album from his hands. "Not stupid, Joel." You pursed your lips as you stared at the cover, your fingertips gently skirting over the fabric. Your family was right in your lap. So many wonderful memories... right fucking there.

The tears welled up without warning and began to pour down your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah," you said, laughing through the tears. "You... you gave me my family back, Joel. How-" your voice cracked and you averted your gaze, doing your best to compose yourself but you knew it was no use. "How could you think this was stupid? This is everything to me."

He gave you a shy smile and shrugged. "Then it was worth it."

He had been listening to you for the better part of an hour as you walked him through each photo in the album and his only regret was he wasn't able to stay long enough in California to find more pictures. He loved hearing you talk about your family, about your childhood, about everything you loved. The look on your face and the tone of your voice was all he ever wanted. You were so fucking happy, so content and at ease that he knew without a doubt if he had to go through it all over again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"Oh my god, so this was taken the day Matty tried to teach me to surf," you said with a giggle, dragging his eyes from your face to a picture of you and your brother on the beach in wetsuits. "He had learned in college because he went to school on the coast. I told you that, right?"

"Yep," he said with a warm smile.

"Anyway, it went as well as you could imagine. I have no coordination whatsoever. I fell, like, every single time, no matter how small the wave... Oh! This must have been his graduation," you said, pointing to the next photo of the four of you all dressed up in front of a regal looking building. "He was so smart, Joel. He was going to be a chemist. Who does that? Who majors in Chemistry? I absolutely hated chem," you said with a shake of your head. Your eyes hadn't stopped shining since you opened the album and the smile never left your face. Your gaze softened and you quieted down as you stared down lovingly at the pictures, your fingers tracing over them delicately. Occasionally you would tell him a story and other times you would grow quiet and thoughtful. He sat by your side and just listened, letting you work through your feelings and memories at your own pace.

"I miss them so much," you eventually said softly.

"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Thank you, Joel," you said, voice thick with emotion when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were wide and wet with unshed tears, and he saw your throat bob when you swallowed tightly. "This means so much to me, I don't know how to put it into words."

"You're welcome, baby," he told you. He pinched your chin and leaned in to kiss you when a sharp knock sounded from the door.

He stood with a frustrated huff and you hid your smile, setting the photo album down on the sofa next to you.

"Hey, come in," Joel said once he opened the door. Tommy stepped through and shrugged off his coat, locking eyes and giving you a nod. "What'd you find?"

"There were only four. Two of 'em were half frozen and the other two didn't have much fight in 'em."

You made a face and looked away as Joel led Tommy into the kitchen.

"Who were they?" Joel asked, and you heard the telltale sound of liquid pouring from a bottle. You stood and made your way towards the kitchen.

"Don't know," Tommy admitted, tossing back the whiskey. Joel gave him a refill right as you were entering the room. "We questioned the two that were conscious but they didn't give us much. Said they were alone. Said they were part of a bigger group that got picked off."

"The men I killed?" Joel asked, brow furrowed as he took a sip of whiskey.

"They didn't say, but they did tell us a few of their guys were out scavenging and never made it back, so maybe."

Joel nodded and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

"You think they were tellin' the truth? That there ain't any more of 'em?"

Tommy shrugged. "Didn't have reason to think otherwise. We scoured the area. Couldn't find any other tracks-"

"But the snow coulda covered it up," Joel offered anxiously. He scratched his chin, staring blankly at the floor while the gears turned in his head. "They probably followed the horse tracks and when the snow got to be too much, they lost their way. They were comin' for me, Tommy."

For some reason it never occurred to you that those men were looking for revenge. It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Or they were just lookin' for someplace warm. You don't know, Joel. Besides, it don't matter now. It's dealt with."

Joel didn't look convinced but he kept his mouth shut, for your sake. He could tell he was worrying you and he had already put you through enough as it was.

"Listen, I oughta get back to Maria. I'm sure she's got her hands full," Tommy said after a brief silence. He handed Joel his empty glass and shot you a look. "Don't worry, sugar. We got this under control."

You gave him a tight smile and moved out of his way so he could gather his things.

"Thank you," you told him quietly while Joel rinsed out their glasses.

His eyes flicked up to yours as he laced up his boots. "Don't mention it. Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, I promise."

You wished his words brought you some comfort but you couldn't shake the nagging voice in the back of your head.

"C'mon. Why don't you show me more pictures," Joel urged once Tommy was on his way. It was clear he was trying to get your mind off things.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna go to bed," you told him. He was in the middle of picking up your photo album when he paused and glanced up. His eyes scanned your face, clocking the anxiety you were trying to hide. He could tell you still felt responsible, even though he had insisted what happened wasn't your fault, and now the raiders following him back into the mountains just made matters worse.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," you replied, your voice sounding more confident as you tried to shrug off the bad feeling Tommy left. Your eyes flickered to his awkwardly. "Do you... need help getting up the stairs?"

He frowned and shook his head, too lost in his own head to pick up on what you were too nervous to really ask. "I'll be alright. Go get some rest, I'm gonna stay up for a bit."

After you went to bed, he tried to distract himself from the possibility he put the entire town, but more importantly, you, at risk. He poured another glass of whiskey and picked up a book, but he found himself rereading the same paragraph over and over for half an hour.

What a stupid fucking thing to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose, kicking himself for being so careless. Maybe he could convince you tomorrow to let him go out with Tommy. He trusted his brother, but he knew he would feel better if he explored the area himself. He knew he had to be careful. He made so much progress with you, he couldn't risk fucking that up, either, and based on the way you looked at him earlier, it was clear the prospect of him leaving Jackson again so soon scared you.

Warmth bloomed in his chest and the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. The idea of you scared didn't please him, but scared for him? Well, that was different.

The way he woke up that morning still felt like a dream. Your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzled into his shoulder, your scent invading his senses. It felt strange for a split second until his memories came flooding back from a time when he woke up like that every single day and he foolishly wondered if you had finally remembered. Once you opened your eyes he knew instantly you hadn't, but somehow he was even more excited that someone as perfect as you found your way into his bed twice.

Bed.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes before tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He was procrastinating now, tending to the fire one last time before dragging himself back to his empty bed. How was he going to sleep when he knew you were right in the next room? God, what he wouldn't give to curl up in bed with you.

He froze, the poker hovering in the air halfway towards the fire as he thought back to your words when you went to bed, now hours ago.

Do you need help getting up the stairs?

You sounded a little strange but at the time he just chalked it up to Tommy's news about the raiders. When you asked if he needed help, were you trying to get him to come up and sleep with you?

"Oh, you fuckin' idiot," he growled to himself under his breath before slotting the poker back in the stand. Was it too late?

He crept quietly up the steps, hoping to see your light on under your door but unfortunately, your room was dark. Shit.

Changing into his sweatpants, he mentally chastised himself for being so goddamn thick and missing his opportunity to go to bed with you. After he washed up, he paced around his room, anxiously chewing his nail and wondering what he should do. Should he just go to sleep? Should he slip into your bed the way you did the night before? Would you be upset if he did?

Just when he thought he was about to wear a hole into the thin carpet he heard a light tapping on his bedroom door. He froze and held his breath, wondering if he imagined it until he heard it again.

He rushed to the door and whipped it open where he found you standing in the hallway wearing a thin T-shirt and sweatpants of your own. You didn't look like you had just woken up, your eyes didn't look like they were clouded with sleep. You were waiting for him.

Your gaze darted quickly over his bare chest, like you were trying not to look but couldn't help yourself. His cock twitched, excited by the notion that you could be fighting your own arousal, same as him.

"Can I stay with you?" you asked, your voice impossibly small and fuck, his heart squeezed in his chest at how sweet you were in that moment.

"Yeah," he breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He widened the door and stepped aside, watching as you slipped past him and curled up underneath his sheets.

Neither of you said a word. He just flicked off the light and slid into bed beside you, turning onto his side and pulling you against him. His face nuzzled the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and he heard you sigh. He held you close and with tears in his eyes whispered how sorry he was, how he would never hurt you again, how he was weak and stupid and he loved you so much.

You didn't say much in return. Just the occasional nod or sniffle or squeeze of his hand in acknowledgement.

All of the stress and anguish from the past several months were the furthest things from both your minds as you fell asleep that night, each of you finally assured that everything was going to be okay.

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[rafeandonlyrafe]

vodka red bull

words: 300

warnings: drinking, partying

“rafey.” you coo, stumbling over to land on his lap, melting into his body immediately.

“jesus, kid, how much did you have to drink?” rafe asks, straightening you out so youre not in such a revealing position, making sure to pull your skirt down to cover more of your legs.

“not that much.” you try to say innocently, but your slightly slurred speech tells rafe everything he needs to know.

“alright, why don’t you just relax right here?” rafe pats your thigh. you nod and tuck your head into rafes neck, happy to sit there while he resumes talking with his friends, hand absentmindedly stroking over your leg.

you tune out their conversation in favor of pressing gentle kisses to rafes neck, keeping them soft so as to not annoy him but not able to resist when his skin is so close to your lips.

rafe leans forward to pick up his cup off the table, arm wrapping around your waist to keep you pressed into him, knowing you’re too drunk to keep yourself from falling, especially when you’re so wrapped up and focused on kissing him.

“mmm, gimme some.” you pick your head up to reach for rafes cup, but he holds it out of your reach, his arm outstretched.

“please.” you whine when rafe laughs at you, tipping the plastic cup back into his mouth, finishing it off before tossing it onto the table.

his hands squeeze at your cheeks, and your eyes widen when you realize rafe is actually going to allow you to have some of his drink as your mouth opens. he swallows most of the alcohol, but spits the last into your mouth, which you happily swallow with a smile on your face.

you lean forward to press your lips to rafes as a thank you, leaning back into his chest when you realize all his friends have gone silent, staring at the two of you.

“what?” you hum.

“he just spat vodka into your mouth.” kelce states, eyebrows raised.

“nooo.” you shake your head with a laugh. “he spat vodka red bull into my mouth, sillies.” you roll your eyes, turning your attention back towards kissing rafe.

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[malum-forev]

Unexpected

“I can’t believe people actually fall for these kinds of things,” Bucky scoffs, flicking one of the drooping petals on the flower arrangement. “Ridiculous, right?”

He looks over at Sam, wanting some kind of backup from his partner, only to receive a shrug in response. Bucky rolls his eyes, having flowers delivered to the compound seemed so overplayed in his mind.

“No self respecting woman could actually want to date someone who outsources something like giving flowers.” Bucky mutters, his fingers itch to look at the card to see who they’re from. And more importantly, who they’re for.

“Can’t say I agree with you on this one Buck,” Sam leans back on the conference room chair, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. “Flower delivery is a normal thing in the modern world, not that I expected you to know. You’re not exactly the romantic type.”

He tries to not let Sam’s comment bug him, but it does. A lot. Back when he was alive the first time, Bucky was over the top. So over the top that some women’s knees physically buckled when they saw his gifts and acts of love. Sure, some of the things he only did to get into their pants but who cares, they were romantic nonetheless. 

Bucky tries to concentrate on your detailed plan for the mission but he’s done this a thousand times and could quite possibly complete this recon mission in his sleep and more importantly, the flower debacle is still present. The plastic vase sitting in the middle of the conference table taunts him. The folded card underneath it was basically begging for him to take a look.

He lingers after the meeting, saying some excuse about wanting to look over the documents when really, his curiosity is what’s keeping him seated. 

In his defense, your floor of the compound rarely gets any deliveries, let alone “romantic” ones. At least what people now think is romantic. Apart from Sam, himself and you, the other people on the floor are either married or forever alone. Leave the cheesy displays of affection for the lower level agents, the ones who still get the hots from one look.

Bucky looks both ways, making sure no one catches him as he slips the card from under the vase and reads it. 

Thought of you today. Have a nice week. 

“Nice week? What a loser.” Bucky blows raspberries, throwing the card back on the table. 

“Can I help you with something, Barnes?” Bucky jumps up in his spot as he hears your voice coming from behind him. 

“Just reading this extensive report,” Bucky lifts up the corners of the papers. “Great to know you have so much spare time.”

To say you and Bucky have a complicated relationship is an understatement. You think he’s a reckless agent that gets away with everything just because he was Captain America’s friend and he thinks that you aren’t reliable on the field because you second guess everything. Match made in heaven, right? Not a single mission you’ve been on has resulted in the two of you being civil. It always ends with a catfight and both of you trying to one up the other one.

“I don’t have time for this. Right now all I want is to go home and get some rest before we have to leave in a couple of days.” You roll your eyes, picking up some of the extra copies for the other agents you’re taking on the mission before grabbing the flowers from the table. 

“Are those yours?” Bucky’s voice pitches up, like he can’t seriously believe someone sent you flowers. 

“This is exactly what I don’t have time for.” You huff, leaving him behind in the conference room, wishing he’d just drop it. But knowing Barnes, and hearing his combat boots smack on the floor behind you, he won’t stop. 

“Who is he?” He raises his eyebrows, walking next to you, covering the elevator buttons with his hands so you can’t press either button. 

“Barnes,” You warn. “I’d rather not spend any more time with you than what’s required for my job.”

“Me neither,” Bucky nods. “So, if you can just tell me who sent you the flowers we can go on our way and not talk until we absolutely have to.”

“Does it matter who they’re from?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Of course it matters, I’ve never known you to like someone enough to give them your work address. I’ve never known you to like someone, period. So, yes, it matters.”

“Why would I tell you?” You quickly press the arrow pointing upwards as Bucky gets distracted with his dig at your non-existent love life. “So you can go and tell him what a big mistake he’s making?”

“That, and maybe I just want to know if he’s a real life breathing man.” He shrugs as you get in the elevator. “With eyes and ears and all those things one would need to know you really.”

“Great, thanks for the motivational talk I so didn’t need.” You flip him off as the doors close. 

-o-

Your head bounces against the side of the plane as you go through some turbulence but you try not to let it disturb you. But it’s something else that wakes you up, or rather, someone else. 

“I’ve come to the conclusion that he works somewhere in the compound.” Bucky drops his body in the seat next to you, his loud voice making your eyes snap open. 

“I’m resting before the mission,” You narrow your eyes at him. “And having you talk to me is messing that up.”

“You’re not disagreeing.” Bucky hums. 

“The only reason I haven’t flipped you over and dislocated your shoulder is because you have somehow gotten on Sam’s good side and I don’t want him giving me his disapproving father look.”

“Just tell me.” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes are looking straight into yours. 

“Tell you what?” You throw your head back with a groan. 

“Who the flowers are from.”

“You’re still on that?” You quirk one eyebrow.

“You never answered it.”

The questions seemed to have died down once you closed your eyes again but Bucky popped up whenever you expected him least.

You rummage through the office of the suspect that had just been killed. A doctor that was once Hydra had been trying to replicate the super soldier serum, the animal testing had been positive and a couple of dog sized rats still lived in his office. 

“Can you tell me what area he’s in?” Bucky leans on the doorframe and the sudden sound has you bringing your gun to his forehead. 

“I could have killed you just now,” You heave. “And I wish I would have, I think death is the only thing that’s going to stop you from asking all these questions.”

“You could just answer.” Bucky shrugs, looking both ways, making sure no one’s around.

“Why do you want to know?” You huff. 

“I want to know who’s romancing you.” Bucky acts like he doesn’t care, but the truth is that he’s spent the last few days with you and only you on his mind. 

The thought of you dating someone that does the bare minimum makes him frown. He’s never given a second thought to your dating life but if he had to rack his brain, Bucky would assume that you would date someone who’s competent enough to handle your wit and your moods, someone who gets your strength and doesn’t try to undermine you, someone who can handle the emotional baggage that comes with this job and doesn’t judge you. Someone who will hand deliver flowers to your apartment to show you he likes you, instead of having them delivered so that everyone thinks he likes you.

“Why do you care about my love life all of a sudden?” You snap at him and it actually stops him in his tracks. 

Bucky stares back at you with half a breath sucking in his lungs.

Love. 

You actually said the word love. 

Nothing’s ever happened between you two (except for that night the two of you spent cuddling together after neither of you wanted to sleep on the floor, but you swore you’d never speak of it again), but you’ve been a constant in Bucky’s life for years. And he doesn’t deal with change very easily. 

If you’re so freely talking about having a love life, as opposed to what? a like life? Get yourself together Barnes! he scolds himself, that means that soon enough you’ll be bringing this mediocre boyfriend around the tower, which means he’ll have to practice his “I’m trying to act like I care what you’re telling me” smile in the mirror while he’s bumped into the guy while you’re still getting ready because lord knows you love to take your sweet time getting ready! And that means that he’ll have to get a tux for your wedding because who would be stupid enough to not marry someone as intelligent and beautiful as you, and that means that you’ll take a leave for your honeymoon but knowing you, work will follow you to said honeymoon. You never stop working and Bucky’s warned you about your body taking a toll after all those years. 

“You’re one to talk.” He remembers you rolling your eyes at him the time he said it. 

God, your eyes. He’s going to miss your eyes. In the morning, you’ll look at him from over your boiling hot coffee cup. Bucky knows that you like to drink your coffee before the sun goes up because, in your words, I want to have at least a couple of minutes to myself before the world needs me. He’d never admit it to anyone but he sometimes acts like he’s had nightmares keeping him up at night just so he can share those quiet moments with you.

And after the tsunami of memories he won’t share with you anymore subsides, another wave comes crashing in. Soon you’ll be retiring, Bucky’s seen you with Morgan. It’s clear you want kids of your own some day. And you sure as hell won’t be having them when someone like Bucky Barnes is your partner. Bucky knows he’s a risk, he wouldn’t judge you if you thought it too. 

“Okay, we’re done here. I’m leaving, White Wolf hot on my heels.” You speak into the chip, making him snap out of his thoughts and return to Earth.

“As always, thanks for doing nothing, Barnes.” You laugh, slapping Bucky's shoulders as you pass him.

Bucky’s lungs burn as he runs alongside you down the corridor, trying to make up for all of the air he didn’t get as he spiraled. 

-o-

Bucky is up and it’s not because he heard the door hinges creak as you came inside or the slapping of your heels on the old wooden floor. It’s because he hasn’t been able to sleep since you left. 

He acted tired and fake yawned all the way to his room as you passed by, all maked-up and perfumed, when in reality he spent the rest of the night trying to decipher a video game someone recommended. 

Bucky’s verdict: I’ve been to war, I don’t need to play make believe. 

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the sounds coming from the kitchen. You opened the fridge door and took a glass bottle of sorts out. From the cork popping, he figured out you were taking out your favorite wine. 

Bucky walks quietly towards the kitchen, not wanting to startle you. 

You gasp as you turn around, cork in your mouth and wine glass filled to the brim in your left hand. 

“I thought everyone would be asleep by now.” You spit the cork into the trash, lowering your face so your hair fans over your features. 

“Nightmares,” Bucky mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing at your unusual mannerisms. 

“Well, now you know who was out here.” You walk past him. “Goodnight Barnes.”

But before you can leave, Bucky holds your arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You try to release from his grip but you know you’re no match for the vibranium arm. 

Bucky lifts up a trembling hand to your face and moves away your hair. Your normally bright eyes now look dull. Red blotching around your irises and black ink running down your face.

“You’ve been crying.” Bucky’s jaw tightens. 

“Thanks for that, Sergeant Obvious,” You scoff. “You’ve discovered my secret. I’m a living, breathing woman with feelings. I know they make you uncomfortable because you don’t have any but I do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m a person and as much as I would like to be as robotic as you are, sometimes people do things that hurt me.” You roll your eyes. “Next time I have feelings, I’ll make sure to take care of them before I enter the tower so you won’t be bothered.”

“Why are you crying?” He hisses, shutting his eyes before he sees red. “Who made you cry? Tell me a name and I’ll have them killed before dawn.”

“What?”

“No one makes my girl cry.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to understand what Bucky just said. The man who’s constantly bothering you and making your life quite impossible is threatening to kill someone just because you shed a couple of tears?

Bucky runs his hands down his face. “We’re wasting precious time here baby, just give me a name and I’ll do the rest.”

“You don’t care,” You tell him but his expression doesn’t change. “You’re not supposed to care. Why do you?”

“The other day, when you told me about the flower idiot, I may have realized something.” Bucky lets out a deep breath. “You’re my partner on the field but you’re much more than that in here.”

Your hand shakes as Bucky takes it and presses your palm flat on his chest. 

“I’m thinking of you when I wake up, hoping I catch you before you get ready. You’re on my mind when we’re training because I want to teach you everything I know, and I want you to teach me how you twisted the agent’s arm and dislocated his knee at the same time. Most of the times when we’re out on missions I’m reckless because I want to keep you safe. I don’t care what happens to me, you’re what needs to be taken care of. At night I dream of you, and then I wake up feeling hollow.”

“You’re too good for me and I know that but that doesn’t mean that some jackass can take you out and then make you cry. If that’s the standard then I’m way above average, baby.” Bucky lets out a dry chuckle. “And I know you don't want me because, who would? But-”

You slam your lips on his, stopping him completely. 

Both of you are starved for touch, wanting to explore every inch of the other. His hands roam your body as yours get tangled in his hair. 

Heavy breathing takes over the kitchen as you separate. 

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” You rest your forehead on his. 

“Why did it take you so long to kiss me?”

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[namfinessed]

ex-things - m.yg.

genre: angst (after breakup!) (4.8k)

summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.

masterlist

-

“scarf,” you say as soon as yoongi appears at the door, you fail to hide your smile when he throws his head back in exasperation and throws the door open.

you push past him and enter his apartment which looked…exactly the same.

but then again, you did just break up some ten minutes ago so, of course, it would be the same.

you don’t know why you expected the universe to shift just because your heart was broken.

and as you throw back the cushions on his sofa, push the things on his coffee table, look under the sofa and table, and walk past him to check the coat rack and then the kitchen, you feel his piercing gaze following your every step.

you knew where it was.

it was in your bedroom.

or well, his bedroom now.

“can you hurry the fuck up?” he groans and in that second, you eye the black plastic cover filled with two or three soju bottles sitting on his kitchen counter.

you swallow and yell back, “can you just let me look for my scarf in peace?”

another groan.

a stomp on the floor.

“fuck, i’ll mail it to you,” yoongi makes his way into the kitchen with loud steps and you arch your eyebrow at him, then look towards the green bottles shining on his counter, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and spits out, “i was going to drink today before anything ever happened, don’t feel too special.”

“really?” you muse, clinking them against each other, and in the next second, yoongi’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s pulling you, gently, towards the door.

“i’ll send it when i find it,” he murmurs as he pushes your coat, your car keys, and your phone into your hands, and you don’t say anything for a while.

you clutch your belongings and stand by the door until you notice how yoongi's eyes are bloodshot, their usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion. his shoulders rounded with an invisible weight, and you feel guilty for leaving.

“a-are you okay?” you ask, it feels stupid to ask because you know, you were the same as him.

he laughs bitterly and throws you a glare, you notice how his hands tremble beside his body, and you look away to save him and yourself from the pain of asking again.

“i just broke up with my girlfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” he breathes out, you wonder if it pains him like it’s paining you to hear his words, “now, can you leave?” yoongi gestures towards the door again.

you sigh, “wait a minute,” and enter your his home again.

“what now?” he throws his hands in the air and stomps after you.

he watches you grab the scarf from under his bed, he turns his eyes away when he sees your hands shaking while holding it, “did you know where it was?” yoongi breathes out, his face and voice in disbelief.

you don’t say anything again.

and when you leave, he pours himself glass over glass to forget the trembling of your jaw and how you paced around the apartment while knowing exactly where you kept the scarf.

he laughs again, the sound is strange, rough, and just wrong without your laugh chiming with him.

he pours himself a glass again.

-

it’s been a week.

“hi,” you say as yoongi walks into his house, he jumps a little, clutching his chest as his eyes widen to look for you.

you raise a hand to wiggle your fingers at him as a ‘hello, hi, ex-boyfriend, you’re back at your home and so am i!’ and yoongi blinks.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, i was loo-“

“wait wait, how did you even get in?” yoongi frantically marched to his front door and twisted the knob to check for any damages and you roll your eyes.

“i found your key under the potted plant. speaking of which, do you want to get robbed or something, why would you even put it there?” you throw your hands in the air as you sip tea, grimacing as the strange, bitter taste of yoongi’s favorite green tea spreads in your mouth.

“first of all, stop drinking my tea, you don’t even like it” you put the cup down with a sheepish smile and fold your hands on the table.

“and second of all, i didn’t think i had to worry about any ex-girlfriends breaking in, my bad,” yoongi complains loudly and you press your palms to your ears, shaking your head, “i’m not even here to see you, i’m here for…well, i’m here for,” you struggle to finish the sentence.

and yoongi glares at you.

“what is it?” as he moves his head to pin his glare on you, his soft, freshly straightened hair moves with him.

“straightener!” you say loudly, clapping your hands, and yoongi’s eyebrows narrow again, “you’re going to get wrinkles, yoongi.” you point at his eyebrows but he doesn’t let up, you’re sure that his eyebrows furrowed deeper.

“okay! i’ll be on my way once i get that,” you wander off into his bedroom and yoongi throws his head back in exasperation.

your straightener is easy to find because well, it’s not yours, it’s his and it’s just sitting on his vanity but yoongi doesn’t bat an eye at that.

he only watches you move around his home with his arms crossed on his chest and an unreadable satisfaction on his face.

and when you leave, you can’t help but notice that for all his annoyance, he never tells you to not come back, and he never tells you to find everything you own and leave at once.

with that knowledge, you leave his home with the biggest grin on your face.

-

“you need to get out before my booty call gets here,” you happily eat your ice cream on the kitchen counter as yoongi walks into your home as if he owned it.

did you mention that he was the one to bring you ice cream?

your favorite too, one scoop of hazelnut and one scoop of brownie.

“ha ha, very funny, you should start thinking of a career in stand-up” he responds with a roll of his eyes and you giggle even more, sliding down to catch up with his pace around your home.

“what are you here for?”

“t-shirt, you know the one you stole,” yoongi shrugs and glares again, walking right into your room and you follow with hands closed behind your back, “which one?” you muse as you remember all the (10) t-shirts you’ve stolen from him.

he looks back as he nears the closet, eyes narrowing at you, “how many do you have?”

“how many can you remember that i have?”

yoongi groaned in sheer frustration and you crawled on your bed, watching him pick apart your closet, and glaring at you whenever he found one of his t-shirts in there.

for a moment, it was amusing.

it was the funniest thing to watch yoongi get annoyed, you always enjoyed it.

but in the next moment, when he was around his fifth t-shirt, you felt this ache slowly develop in your chest and spread across your throat and then your mouth, then it was everywhere.

it was this dull throbbing that you couldn’t shake and your eyes dropped to fiddle with your fingers instead of looking at him, collecting his belongings from your home.

because, just two weeks ago, it had been your t-shirts too, hadn’t they? and it wasn’t just your home then, it was yours and his, wasn’t it? sure, you had separate apartments but it never felt like that, it felt like you had two homes and both homes belonged to both of you.

and now, you only had one.

you had wrapped your arms around his back when he was in your room two weeks ago, he was here now but you couldn’t even touch a hair on his head without feeling like you’ve crossed a line.

your head was starting to collect the ache and make a home for it so you ask, “are you almost done?”

you didn’t mean to ask him that, you actually very, very badly wanted yoongi never to leave so you could believe again, ‘i have two homes, i have two toothbrushes, two mugs, two keys, two doors, and two of everything’ but yoongi pauses, he collects the t-shirts he found and nods, “yeah, i’m done.”

when he walks out of your room, the ache finally takes over your head and you follow him with dazed eyes and stumbling feet.

at the door, yoongi stops, he turns around with concern brimming in his eyes and that is enough for your hands to shake again, “you good?”

“i just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so yeah, i’m doing fantastic,” you deepen your voice to mimic his and yoongi shakes his head with a small laugh, “you better be okay,” he says at the end, and his voice is so soft, it feels like cotton pressed into your cheeks.

and you nod because if yoongi says you have to be okay, you’ll find a way to be okay.

but when he leaves, you are back to having just one home, with one toothbrush in the bathroom, one mug in the kitchen, one set of keys in your purse, one door, and one of everything else.

and you’re sorry to yoongi.

because you don’t know if you can be okay.

-

a couple days passed again.

you had an angry yoongi pacing in front of you as you watched.

“you’re being ridiculous,” yoongi shoves a hand through his hair, glaring at you as you sit with arms across your chest and refusing to look at him.

“i’m not,” you huff out and he rolls his eyes.

he did that a lot.

he did that a lot with you.

“i didn’t steal your plushie, are you fucking kidding me?” yoongi whines and walks away into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

you follow him and right at the doorway, you don’t enter, you just watch his even more sunken eyes and even more rounded shoulders with conflicted eyes.

a part of you wanted to hug him.

a part of you wouldn’t mind killing him.

a part of you wanted to kiss his shoulders to lift them.

a part of you wanted to leave a red mark on his face.

but all parts of you, you couldn’t trust or believe.

these past few days, you couldn’t trust or believe anything actually.

yoongi senses your eyes on him, he knows how you look at him and how you seem to show so much with just a gaze but he holds strong.

you were broken up.

you shouldn’t be here.

hell, he’s not sure if he should be here or not either.

but he betrays himself over and over again, he lets you into his house and you let him into yours, and he feels ridiculous every time he closes your door, he’s not sure what you feel when you close his.

“i threw it away,” he shrugs his shoulders, eye muscles tensing oddly, he’s not sure if you notice or not.

“what?” your whisper is so quiet, yoongi wouldn’t have known you were speaking if he didn’t see your lips moving.

“i threw it, okay? there was no use of it being around here anymore, so i fucking threw it away,” he didn’t mean for his voice to be loud, and he didn’t mean for his words to hurt but maybe he did, maybe he wanted to hurt you.

but he loves you?

but he’s also okay with hurting you.

to an extent.

yoongi had never understood why he couldn’t love properly, why his love for others and himself had to hold a touch of pain, a touch of misery, but it was always out of his control.

it had been different with you.

for a while, that is.

but he was back to his roots now, pain and misery and love and affection held his hands and danced around him.

and he had to dance with them too.

“i threw it,” he repeated, but your plushie was tucked into his pillows, into his sleep, and into his days and nights.

it was stained with salty tears now, it was stained with the ice cream he ate after he left your home, and he didn’t want you to see it.

for a moment, you both didn’t even twitch in the wrong direction, yoongi watched the dark liquid in his cup with growing intensity and you waited for him to tell you that your plushie was safe.

“fine,” you sniffled, grabbing your coat and stomping to the door and yoongi followed, he tried not to but his feet walked ahead of his mind.

at the door, you angrily shoved your feet into your sneakers and pushed your hair out of your face, as if to prove that you weren’t crying, that you weren’t affected and anyone else would believe you.

but yoongi knows you.

and he knows your red nose and cheeks can only mean one thing.

before you close his door, you say, “you’re a horrible person, yoongi.”

he thinks he knows what you feel when you close his door now.

hatred.

-

you swore to yourself that that would be the last time you turn up at his place, but you had genuinely forgotten something there and needed it this time, so you swallowed your pride and rang his doorbell.

you don’t greet him when he opens the door and yoongi feels like he could fall to his knees when you shove a bag with his favorite ice cream, matcha, and coffee (he’s a caffeine guy, he runs on it), into his hands and yoongi knows he’s forgiven.

“i forgot my trousers here,” you mumble afterward and head straight into his closet to dig through for the work trousers that you cannot live without.

yoongi doesn’t dare to utter a word, he looks through his closet beside you and apologizes when his skin touches yours in any little way.

you can’t believe there was a time when you would touch him as if his body was yours too and he would touch you the same. but his apologies just dug the truth deeper into your skin, which was that you didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t belong to you.

so, you nod, you bear your cheeks heating up and thighs going weak, and just look through his neatly organized piles of clothes too.

he used to organize your stuff too, he used to section them, fold them, and keep them neatly by his clothes.

that’s how you find your trousers, crisp folds, and fresh-smelling, right beside his work clothes.

and your heart squeezes as you pull it out.

the folds loosen, the trousers limp in your hands, and that small change in its structure, makes you think of yoongi and everything that fell apart with him.

when you leave that day, you pause at the door and whisper, “you’re not horrible, yoongi, but maybe i am, maybe i ruined everything, but please don’t hate me.”

before he can catch you and wipe your tears and tell you that you were right last time, he was the horrible one, he was the one who texted late, who came home late, who missed birthdays, but you were already running away and he was left with a lit cigarette burning his throat.

-

“i swear, it was here,” yoongi shifts the things around your closet, head buried deep in shelves and racks of clothes and shoes, you stand at the doorway with your arms crossed against your chest, trying not to roll your eyes.

“and you have a million other headphones, so i don’t understand why you would need to find this one,” you step into the room and lazily move things around to try and find it too, yoongi scoffs from a few feet away, “it was special to me,” he says and turns his back to you again.

“why?”

“my grandfather gave it to me,” yoongi huffs, and his hands stay busy.

but.

“your grandfather died when you were five,” there was no way his grandpa gave it to him and you know you’ve caught him.

he could’ve at least tried harder with his lies.

it was strange, seeing him here, standing in your bedroom, surrounded by things that no longer belonged to both of you.

you don’t think you’ll ever get over that feeling of loss.

the moisturizer you would’ve shared with him.

the cheap wig that he would wear to make you laugh.

the razor that you would hide to annoy him.

they only belonged to you now.

though you don’t bring up his grandfather to drive him away, you only say it because it was hard for you to understand why he was here, looking for headphones that he could buy tens of pairs of.

he pauses, you wait for him to say something else, or lie about a friend who didn’t exist who gave it to him, lie about his dad giving it to him.

but yoongi doesn’t say anything.

he keeps looking.

you refused to keep anything that touched you in the last three years.

well, except for some things.

“yoongi,” you call out, pointing towards the unopened box in your closet and he turns his head that way, quickly walking over to it and flipping it upside down.

the photo album that carried your first anniversary.

the promise ring that he gave you on your second anniversary.

the matching couple t-shirt which he cringed at but wore whenever he could.

the.

the.

the.

so many the’s and so many first’s and second’s of things that you kept, though ‘kept’ was the wrong word, you treasured these things, you loved them.

and all of them fell on the floor with noise that shook your ears and chest, not because of the volume but because it was like you were pouring your heart in front of him.

but you loved them in the past, you liked to think that you did and you were in the present now, watching yoongi eye the things you gathered without his knowledge.

and all of it was only yours now.

“when did you keep this here?” he asks, and you immediately know he’s asking about the simple diamond ring that everyone thought was your engagement ring.

but it was just a promise ring.

and you removed it when, “that day you didn’t come for my birthday,” you mumbled, picking up the things and putting them back where they belonged.

buried inside a box.

shoved into a closet.

but before, you pull out his headphones from the box and hang it over your head for him to take.

when he takes it, his fingers touch the smallest part of your palm and your eyes gather tears as if rivers were breaking a dam in them.

yoongi stands without saying a word for a long time but then he walks to the door, “you’re not going to close your door?”

you’re not coming to see me off?

you get up unwillingly and walk to the door without sneaking another glance at him and drop the ring into his palm, “bye, yoongi.”

his hands tighten around the band of platinum.

both of you look at the dangly, worn-out wires of his headphones that hang from his other hand.

you had given them to him for your first anniversary.

not his dead grandpa or dad or friend.

it was you.

and both of you refused to acknowledge that fact.

and when yoongi finally leaves, he leaves behind a space in the air that waits for him to come back and take his place again, in your life, in your home, in your space.

but he doesn’t turn back.

and you close the door, letting the space remain.

-

a few days went by again.

neither of you showed up at each other’s doors anymore.

neither of you had anything left to collect.

neither of you had anything that belonged to the other.

and it was strange, the quiet, the loneliness that crept on your back and it always hit at the most unexpected of times.

when you poured your cereal in the morning, you realized you were holding the box that you had bought while grocery shopping with yoongi, it was your favorite time of the month, the one time you could really feel that he was your person.

but the box was empty by the end of your breakfast and you kept it back in the cabinet.

when you arranged your clothes, you saw your messy folding and fell back on the pile of clothes that still needed folding.

how yoongi did this every day, you had no clue.

but as you lay in pieces of cotton, linens, satins, sequins, and many more materials that hugged and pinched you, you couldn’t help but think that surely, yoongi wouldn’t leave you like this, there has to be something of his that you still own.

there has to be something.

so, you got up and with renewed desperate energy, you started searching.

you pulled upon every desk, every closet door, every nook and cranny, you searched with shaking hands and watery eyes.

“there has to be something, there has to be,” you whispered to yourself, your voice choking as things fall over from the tall walls, they fall on your feet, and your toes, and a sharp pain hits you every single time, but you push through.

because.

there has to be something.

you can’t end it like this.

you and yoongi cannot end like this.

anyone else can.

but not you, not him and you.

and the closets you look through stay ajar, the desks you’ve emptied stay tipped over, and everything you own is on the floor.

but there is none of yoongi in any of it.

so, you sink.

you sink to your knees, sobbing and flipping over items as you reach them.

because goddamit, there has to be something.

when the bell first rings, you don’t register it, you are way too intent on the clutter in front of you.

but then it rings.

and rings.

and rings, again and again.

relentless.

and you push yourself up, hoping it’s no one you know because you don’t think you can explain the tears on your face.

but when you open the door, your mouth goes dry and you know you don’t have to explain anything.

because across from you, is a red-eyed yoongi and he’s carrying a box.

“can i come in?” is all he asks, his voice barely a whisper and you’re already opening the door and pulling him in.

but once he’s in your home, in your space again, the familiar soft and sharp scent of him, the sight of him, it was too much. you couldn’t breathe. your eyes never leave him, every breath he took, every shift of his fingers, every fall of his chest, all of it was dancing in your eyes and for the love of god, you couldn’t look away.

he sets the box down and stands there with his hands opening and closing around nothing, and you want to grab them, you want to spread them across your cheeks and feel his warmth, which was sometimes cold too but you didn’t mind, you never minded with yoongi.

but instead, you curl your hands behind your back and stop yourself because it still wasn’t right.

“i don’t have anything of yours,” you start, voice already breaking, “anymore,” you finish with hands tightening so hard around each other that you could feel the bruises blooming on their surface.

“i know,” he takes a sharp inhale of breath and looks away from you and you want to beg him to look at you.

for a second, it’s just you reliving every second you weren’t with him and it’s him looking at your apartment that was void of anything personal, anything that called it a home.

“i want all of it back,” he sniffs, looking at you finally, you want to take it back, you aren’t sure how you survived three years of his eyes only on you and you squeeze your door handle, “all of what?” you whisper, and he sniffs again, “your stuff, all of it, your stupid scarf, your straightener, everything, i want all of it back, in my place, in our place, where it belongs.” he says it so quietly, so earnestly and each word has you pulling your skin tighter.

“your plushie is in this, i never threw it away but i’m taking it back, my t-shirts and headphones are in this, i’m leaving them here,” he bends over the box and starts picking things apart, and each thing he pulls out, fills you with relief.

but.

“but that isn’t right, yoongi,” you try to defend, “we aren’t together anymore,” you hate the words as they surface out of you and yoongi shakes his head.

“but is this right?” he lifts his hands from the box, his jaw trembling again and you instinctively smooth your hand over it and yoongi pushes his face into your hands.

“is it right, both of us miserable?” he whispers and the world bottoms out from underneath you, suddenly gravity is nothing and you’re both floating towards each other.

“but i hurt you,” you grip his headphones and this time, his tears fall the same as yours do, “i hurt you too.” he places a hand on your knees and that cold warmth, that bare touch leaves you open.

“but i’m done, i don’t want to hurt you anymore,” yoongi begs, he shakes his head as he says it as if he can’t believe there was a time that he had hurt you but you’re the same, you can’t believe that you hurt him once.

“before you came here, i was looking for something, anything that was yours so i could come back,” you sniffed loudly, your voice falling and lifting and yoongi listens with eyes that have always looked at you, “but i didn’t find anything, yoongi and it killed me.” your voice fully gives up as you bury your face into your hands and immediately, you feel his arms pulling you into his chest and his hands running down your hair.

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i’m back see,” he tips your face towards him and his smile is so soft, so real that it makes you smile too, “i’m not going anywhere.” he assures you with a kiss on the top of your head and your watery eyes dry out.

“me too, i don’t want this anymore, i want us, i want two of everything, i want you and i want everything,” you utter back to him, the weight of the words floating between you too.

“and you have it, you have everything again, the ring is in there too but that is for whenever you’re ready.” he kisses you again and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling like you’ve lost centuries of holding him, the thought of the ring swells your chest into a balloon that could snap, “that will take time, but thank you,” you whisper, kissing where his shoulders met his neck.

“like i said, whenever you’re ready but it will always belong to you.” yoongi whispers back and you smile in pure delight, nodding along to his words.

“we were stupid for thinking that we could stay apart,” you laugh hesitantly into his chest, the idea of the two of you trying to be separate was ridiculous to you and yoongi laughs with you, which makes you melt into his body, because it was ridiculous, you were two parts of a whole, two houses in a home, two mugs in a kitchen, two keys in your purse, two toothbrushes in one bathroom and two of everything else that you could think of.

and that was how it should’ve been, that was how it was always meant to be.

somewhere in the night, yoongi crawls up your sheets and your plushie is between the two of you and you make fun of him for acting as if he threw it away, he rolls his eyes and shushes you with a kiss.

“by the way, that straightener is yours, not mine,” you whisper and he is aghast, “i fucking knew it,” he yells and sits up, and immediately starts to complain “you know how stupid i’ve been looking with hair that looks just like holly’s!”

and you remind him, playfully this time, that what was yours was his, and what was his was yours and he falls on the bed, grumbling under his breath and complaining until the sun comes up.

and it feels right, everything that belonged to you and him back in their place, back in their homes and yoongi, back in your life, your home, and your space.

just as it should be, just as it was meant to be.

[binniesbooks]

heyyy! absolutely loved your 100 followers special fic like it was so insanely good!!!

please can i request a bsf!beomgyu fic where he discovers through porn that women can squirt and during your next hangout he asks you about it and when you tell him you can he gets all excited and asks you to show him. this then ends in him fucking you till you squirt on his dick multiple times. can you make both beomgyu and the reader a switch if you don’t mind and only if you’re comfortable tho :) the beomgyu brain rot is getting to me 😭

• IS IT TRUE?

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.6k

pairings bestfriend!Beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings switch reader x switch Gyu, mutual pining, porn watching, caught self relieving, oral sex (m. receiving), slight flood play, kissing, marking, unprotected sex, pull out method, squirting, mentions of hair pulling and scratching if you squint (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note I tried my best to make a great plot, I really did! I hope it worked. To the anon who requested this one, I'm sorry it took me so long, I was procrastinating, LMAO. SORRY 😭

"Beomgyu-" The nasty moans and lewd sounds coming from the computer were abruptly stopped when Beomgyu slammed his laptop shut. 

"What the fuck were you watching?" Yeonjun's brows creased as he stared at the younger awkwardly sitting on the bed, a pillow on his lap and a blanket covering his lower half.

"W-what?" Beomgyu stammered. 

Yeonjun's grin grew wider as his eyes scanned the room. A laptop that was forced shut, a box of tissues, a sweaty body in this air-conditioned room—what else was a guy to do, if not pleasure himself when alone?

"Damn, it looks like I've caught you at a bad time!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a faint chuckle rumbling within his chest. His teasing voice and giggles made Beomgyu blush.

"Okay, okay, I'll just talk to you later, take care of yourself first," Yeonjun said, throwing a knowing look and a teasing smile.

"H-hyung, hyung wait!" Beomgyu tried to stop Yeonjun, but the door was already shut. Besides, he can't just get up naked, can he?

He throws his head back against the pillow, groaning in embarrassment as he runs his palm against his face, muttering a frustrated "fuck" under his breath.

"So..." you started. "Why are you here again?"

"Can't a friend visit you? God, you're not as welcoming as before," Beomgyu barked, rolling his eyes as he threw the plastic bag full of snacks on the table and plopped down on your couch. And when he removes the hood of his jacket, he reveals the mess that was his hair underneath.

"I mean, you can, yeah. But... Do you know what time it is?" you replied, pulling your jacket against your body.

"3 o'clock," he answered.

"3 o'clock in what?"

"3 o'clock in the morning! But whatever!" he grunts, throwing a temper tantrum on the couch.

"Why are you here then?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"Just wanna see you. It's been a while," he muttered under his breath.

"You know you can't just drop by anytime, right?"

"I know, I know. I've just had trouble sleeping at night these past few days again," he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

"Am I your sleeping pill or something?" your brows raised and your voice teasing.

"What if I say that you're my medicine?" Beomgyu looked you straight in the eye. And there you are, embraced by his warm gaze, trapped inside the pretty door to his soul.

You leaned closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, running your fingers through his hair.

"Stay the night—or whatever you call the time now, I hope you have a good rest even if it's just for today." 

Beomgyu has been your friend since you were in your teenage years—typical. He shuts other girls off, as he only gives his attention to you. He doesn't want to be involved in any relationship of sort—that includes you, though. He may be your best friend, your best partner, but neither of you two admitted anything. Just two young hearts showing care and love towards each other. 

Some say you should date each other, which the two of you would only answer with a sheepish smile. Sometimes, he would drop by at your place, hang out with you, and enjoy the rest of his free time. You've been to his place a few times, but you insisted on him going to your place instead, since he's living with his friends. 

Often times, you'll share a kiss or two with him—anything but a kiss on the lips. He loves it when you sit on his lap while he plays at your computer, giving your shoulder a few bites and planting soft kisses. He loves cuddling you to sleep, draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, his warm breath fanning across your nape. 

Beomgyu could walk around your house half naked without you giving a fuck. He does anything as if it were his own home, and you don't mind at all. You're used to it, nothing new. 

Everything about this is pretty normal between the two of you. The kisses, the skinship, the hugs, the cuddles—anything that a 'just friends' friend won't normally do. Well, in your case, it was. 

"Can you come closer? I need to feel your warmth," Beomgyu pleaded, unzipping his jacket.

"Gyu, how much closer do you need me to be? Should I just sew my skin onto yours?" you chuckled as you shifted on the bed, scooting closer to him.

"I missed you. I missed holding you in my arms." he mumbles as he hugs you tight. 

"You're such a baby, Gyu. Do you know that?" you complained, burying your face in his chest, hugging him closer.

A few minutes had passed, yet Beomgyu was still awake. Busying himself with combing his fingers through your hair as he watches you peacefully sleep. 

His fingers traced the outline of your face. "I love you. I hope you know that," he whispered, planting a kiss to the top of your head before he shuts his eyes.

You woke up with heavy limbs draped upon your body. Beomgyu may have mistaken you for a pillow.

"Gyu... Gyu, you're so heavy, move over." Your voice cracked as you gasped for air.

"Gyu, what the hell, scoot over," you grunt again, trying to push him, but his body is far too big for you to push on your own.

"Choi Beomgyu!" You shouted.

Beomgyu squirmed. And instead of getting himself off of you, he pulled you even closer.

"What's your deal?" You frowned, trying to push him away.

Beomgyu grunts as he hides in your neck, rolling over, causing the two of you to crash down onto the floor. 

But instead of getting angry at him, your frown turned into a fit of laughter as you saw him wince and massage the back of his head and his buttocks.

"Did you have a good sleep?" you asked, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Mhm, I did, thank you. I'll get going now, the boys might already be looking for me," Beomgyu said as he pulled you in for a hug.

"You're not gonna eat breakfast here?"

His tall figure towers over you as he pinches your cheeks, "I'll do it next time. Let's have breakfast together next time, okay? Eat the snacks I brought earlier and take care of yourself." You watched him step out, closing the door behind him. 

It hadn't even been a whole 24 hours when he came back to your place.

"I wanna watch a movie; the guys are boring to be with!" he frowns, feigning frustration--- He actually never asked them to do so. Just a reason for him to drop by your place again.

"Bring the ice cream from the freezer, then," you said as you prepared the couch, bringing some soft pillows and a fuzzy blanket. 

You actually have no idea what the movie was all about. You even missed the title because you went to the restroom last minute. The only thing you know is that it's a 18+ rated movie. Well, it's not your first time watching something like this with Beomgyu, you've watched multiple movies that aren't child friendly. 

Plus, the fact that the two of you could even talk about anything sexual as if you're just talking about food and any other light topics makes this normal. Although sexually wise, neither one of you has experience. Considering that you both shut people away as if your world only revolves around each other.

And although this isn't the first time you're watching something like this with Beomgyu, it is the first time you saw him shove a pillow over his lap. It is the first time he's trying his best to avoid any skin contact with you. 

"Is everything okay? You're so distant," you commented, licking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Actually... There's.. there's something I want to ask," he started, turning his body to face you.

"That is?"

"That.. I.. Uhm, I just watched this from... You know..."

"Porn?" you bluntly answered.

"Y-yeah. And uh, is it true?"

"What's true? Geez, say it straight, Gyu," you rolled your eyes as you dug another spoonful of ice cream.

"Let me finish my sentence!" he pouts, making you chuckle. Beomgyu wasn't normally nervous around you, this is the first time.

"Is is true.. that.. girls can.. uhm.. the liquid... Like.." he continued stammering.

You looked at him straight in the eye and said, "That girls squirt?" Beomgyu nodded frantically as he tried to avert his gaze.

"It's more common than you think, Gyu," you answered as you returned your gaze to the movie. However, you're shocked about what's already happening on the TV. It was a fucking sex scene! Obscene sounds are coming from the speakers resonating in your living room. You gulped and shifted nervously.

"S-so you mean, you can do it?" Beomgyu dug his fingers into the pillow, his face painted with embarrassment and anticipation at the same time.

"Well..."

"Can you show it to me?" he said, cutting you off.

"W-what?" You looked at him in surprise. Why would a friend ask something like that?

"I.. I mean. I mean... Like..." he tried finding an appropriate approach.

"Are you initiating something, Choi Beomgyu?" You turned your whole body towards him. He bit his lower lip, his adams apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, swallowing the same embarrassment and sexual frustration.

"If... If you want to... I... I wanna see it.. I wanna see you," he whispered, his lips already red and swollen from how hard he was biting them. 

You weighed the pros and cons in your mind first. But, yeah, who cares? You're attracted to him anyway! It's a win-win situation, right?

"I swear, if you tell a single soul about this," you warned before straddling him, grabbing his shirt, and crashing your lips on his.

He forcefully pulled the pillow from his lap away, causing you to stumble a little, desperate to feel you even in the tiniest bit. His hands landed on your waist, trying to push you down on his lap.

You pulled away, "Stop. Hands off."

He stared at you with big puppy eyes and a pout, "Y/n," he whines. 

"Keep your hands off me if you want to know if it's true." Beomgyu placed his hand on his side. Trying his best not to touch you, gripping the fuzzy blanket instead, veins popping on his neck as he threw his head back. What a good day to wear sweats, he could fully feel you, and you could fully feel him hardening each second. 

Beomgyu used to order you around. He's a bit bitchy and bossy. Yet he's being pliant today. So you were enjoying this, watching him crumble under you, doing anything you were saying.

You moved your hips again, making him emit a desperate moan. Calling your name like the sex-deprived man he is, "P-please... Please it hurts..." he whines again, tears threatening to spill, nails almost tearing your blanket apart. Yet you grind again, teasing him some more. "If you cum too early, you'll end up not knowing whether it's true," you taunt. So he bucks his hips up, along with loud moans and whimpers, drowning the long forgotten movie in the background, too desperate and stimulated.

"M-more..." he whispered under his breath, almost unheard if you didn't pay attention, not wanting to get ahead of himself. 

You stopped your movement, making him groan and gasp. But blush crept up his pretty face when you moved down between his legs, spreading them open, kissing the tent on his sweats. He drapes his arm on his face as he throws his head back. He didn't know this would happen. He only asked if you could show him how you squirt, but he didn't expect for you to give him more.

"Y/n," he muttered, his hand muffling his mouth, "I-if you don't f-feel like it, you d-don't have to do this...."

"You don't want this, Gyu?" He looked down at you, only to throw his head back again when he saw you pouting with big round eyes. 

"Fuck..." He sighed, "Can I at least hold your head?"

And you let him. You let him tangle his fingers on your hair, but he's not allowed to push you down. You let him grip on your hair, but he's not allowed to pull you back.

As you pulled his sweats down, he tried his best to look at you. But he would end up closing his eyes because he can't look at you straight in the eye. 

"I won't give you a head if you don't look at me," you giggled, making him whine for the nth time.

And so he tried his best to maintain eye contact. Even when he's struggling to keep his eyes open because it feels too good. Even when he could only gasp because you're doing your best to take him whole in your mouth. He heard you gag over and over, yet he can only tangle his fingers in your hair gripping it. He wants to push you down, to fuck your pretty little mouth, to cum already, but he's waiting for your signal. He wants to be a good boy for you. He wants to be good. He wants you to praise him. He wants you to shower him with kisses later on because he was obliging to your commands.

And an idea came to your mind. You scooped out some of the melted ice cream and let it drip on his fully erect and wet cock. Beomgyu whimpers at the cold sensation.

"T-that's... Ahhh..." His voice was too shaky as he tried to form a sentence. Which he wasn't very successful in doing.

You carefully licked the melted ice cream, pushing your tongue on his slit.

"Y/n, c-can I cum? It.. ahh.. it hurts s-so much, p-please," he pleaded, drool rolling down from the corner of his lips, crying.

"Since you're too pretty, sure," you smiled sweetly, full of innocence. He lets go of your hair, placing them down on the couch, clutching on the blanket again. With one thrust in your mouth, he came undone, shooting spurts of sticky white cum inside your mouth. 

Beomgyu tried catching his breath as he looked down at you. He reached for your face, pressing on each side to make you open it. He watched your tongue swirl around the pool of his cum. Beomgyu pressed his thumb on your tongue, playing with his cum. "Swallow."

With a single command, you quickly obliged, swallowing the mix of sweet and salty taste from his cum and the ice cream. This time you felt so little under him as you sat on the floor between his legs. You opened your mouth for him to check. "Good girl," he smiled as he pulled you up, making you straddle him again.

"Did you enjoy your time ordering me around, baby?" He asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, nodding with a wide grin.

His hand ran lower to your chest, touching your breast, causing you to bite your lower lip. 

"Tell me, why aren't you wearing a bra, hm?" He stared at you straight in the eye, raising his eyebrow, looking for a proper answer.

"I didn't know you were gonna drop by again," you pout.

"I see," he said, pinching your nipple.

"G-gyu..." you whimpered.

"Hm?" You looked away, clutching at the hem of your shirt. 

Beomgyu rolls your nipples against his finger again, making you quiver.

"G-gyu!" You moaned, holding his wrist. 

"What is it? Are you lost?" he chuckled, pulling your nipple.

"Ahh! Shit! Mhhmp!" you collapsed above him, hiding in his neck, whimpering and whining over and over again. You heard him let out a hearty chuckle again before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Too much?" he asked, and you nodded as an answer. "Okay, okay, I won't do it again, remove your pajama," he whispered.

You get off of him to discard your silk pajama, before repositioning yourself on top of him again. He kissed your forehead and played a little with the band of your panties.

Aligning his tip on your clothed pussy, he tried thrusting, teasing you, and smirking at how you squirm and pout at the stimulation.

Yet when he pushed your panties to the side, he saw the sticky wetness on the cloth from your hole. "So you're ordering me around while you're being wet like this, am I right?" he grinned.

He started teasing your pussy, pushing his red tip and letting it slide away. "Aww, too bad, I think it won't fit," he pouts, still teasing you. You whined back, wanting to feel him bare.

He teased you more and more. Until you couldn't take it anymore as you rose to your knees and aligned him against your hole, forcing your way down. You ended up collapsing in his arms again. Not prepared at all as you felt a burning pain from the stretch of his fat cock.

"God fucking damn it, don't do that again, you'll end up hurting yourself," Beomgyu winces as he tries to soothe you by combing your hair and kissing your face.

"No matter how desperate you want to feel me, don't do that again, okay? I haven't even properly stretched you out yet," he whispered, rubbing your back.

"Come here," he pulled your face to give you a kiss. A kiss that washed the pain away. Tongues fighting, teeth clashing, saliva mixing. It was nasty, lewd, and filthy. Yet you love it, moaning at the feeling. Especially when Beomgyu started to thrust his hips up, slowly training you with his size. 

His lips traveled down to your neck, leaving splotchy red marks and wet open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His hand fully grasped your breasts, slowly massaging them, occasionally rolling your nipples beneath his fingers, enjoying the way you moan his name in his ear as you catch your breath. 

Then he pulled away, holding your waist as he started his precise and delicious thrusts. 

"Deep?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a grin. You nodded, both of your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

"How deep?" he smirked.

"H-here," you managed, pulling his hand and letting him press on your abdomen. You whimpered when he pressed harder, making you feel every curve and vein of his cock.

"Will you show me how you squirt? How did you find out you can?" he bombed you with questions, still maintaining his pace in thrusting inside your gummy walls.

"W-will show you G-gyu, will do... I ..ahh.. f-found out... One time when I t-touched myself," you started. "W-when you c-called me.. mmmph! W-with your morning voi....voice."

"You're touching yourself to my voice? Fuck, how desperate are you?" he scoffed, thrusting harder.

"W-wait! Ahh! Too m-much! Gyu!" You hid on his neck again, feeling so little and inferior. 

"I-it was only one time! I.. I never did it again!" You managed to squeak out, voice muffled on his neck.

"Then let's make you squirt again, yeah?" he sneered, pulling you back by your hair as you groan at the pleasuring pain spreading through your scalp.

He lifted you up for a bit, and he started fucking your hole with a faster and rougher pace. "Squirt on my cock, squirt on my cock." He kept on repeating it over gritted teeth, adding force to every thrust.

"G-gyu, w-wait, I'm gonna cum--" Clear liquid came out gushing from your hole, pushing his cock out along with your creamy cum, soiling your couch.

"Fuck.. do it again!" His grin grew wider as he lifted you up again and thrusted even harder with greater force.

"Gyu! Gyu! Beomgyu!" You chanted his name over and over again, your toes curled and your stomach twisted at the overstimulation. Yet he kept on fucking into you.

And again, you let out a gush of clear liquid. Whole body spasming above Beomgyu. His cock twitches as he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

"T-this is dirty G-gyu," you muttered below your breath, body spent as you found support from his shoulder.

"No. I like it. This is fucking hot. Makes me wanna fuck you more," he laughs.

You eyes flicker across the room. The couch, the blanket, and the pillows were wet. The chocolate-flavored ice cream smeared on his pants.

Beomgyu slowly slides himself inside you again, thrusting more precisely, wanting to cum inside you this time. He buried his face in your neck as he pushed your hips down. 

"F-fuck! Wanna fill you up!" 

"P-pull out, Gyu! Please!" you pleaded, clawing his back.

Beomgyu pulls out. Hissing through his teeth, he pumped his cock a few times and ended up cumming on your tummy. 

"Fuck," he pants, leaning back on the couch and pulling you to his chest. 

You heard how his heart thumped so hard and how his breathing was so ragged. You buried your face in his neck, allowing your heart to calm down. And realization settled in. You just had sex with your best friend.

"If you won't still ask me to date you after today, I'll ask Kai out, I know he likes me." You muttered, feigning nonchalance.

"What the fuck? Do you want me to tell them how good I made you feel?" he taunts, tangling his fingers in your hair as he gives it a little pull, making you moan.

"See? Only I am allowed to see you like this, to make you so spent like this, understood?" he frowns.

"Only if you date me," you said as you latched your lips on his neck, leaving a mark of ownership.

"Fuck," he scoffed, touching the part where you left a mark when you pulled away. 

@binniesbooks 2024

[jo-speaks]

taste ft. luke hughes

in which...

you know you'll always be present in luke hughes' life, even if you aren't together.

warnings: MDNI!! brief smut, oral sex (f! receiving), alcohol consumption, cheating (? kinda but not really), i think that's it

track one in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series !

quick note: bit earlier than expected, but i can’t let you guys know my next move

Oh, I leave quite an impression

Five feet to be exact

“Damn, Lukey. You walked past her and she looked tiny as hell.” Jack teased his younger brother. 

Luke hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you. You were currently in an intense game of beer pong against his older brother and a guest whom he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, your short, tight dress leaving the youngest Hughes starstruck. He watched as you threw the small ping pong ball across the table, yet again with the accuracy to have his eldest brother chugging from a red Solo cup for the eighth time that night.

“She’s not that short. I’m just really tall, I guess.” Luke yelled in response, the loud music filling the space making it impossible for him to be heard at a normal level.

Jack rolled his eyes, siping whatever mixed concoction he had made in his not-so-sober state. “Uh-huh. At least you aren’t worrying about Natalie anymore.”

Quinn groaned as he missed the cup across from him, “Alright, next round I want Y/N on my team!”

You laughed loudly, leaving Luke even more mesmerized. “Q, the drunker you get the less losing hurts.”

Once again, it was your turn to throw the ball. You stuck your tongue slightly past your lips in concentration as you tried your best to aim towards the red plastic.

“Hang on, hang on.” Quinn stalled, causing you to groan dramatically. “You’re scary good at this. So, you can’t look at the cups. Take a blind shot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What? How is that fair?” “It’s not, but neither is how good you are.” 

“Whatever.” You agreed, turning your head to look at anything else. Before the ball could escape the grasp of your fingertips, your eyes wandered a little too much, making eye contact with Luke. He was already staring at you, so he didn’t bother to look away when you met his gaze. 

The way he was leaning against the counter, legs spread and his tight jeans doing nothing to hide the prominent print of his cock peeking through. 

In your awe, you dropped the round piece of plastic, letting it fall into the cup of beer below it. 

“Does that mean you drink?” Quinn asked.

You're wondering why half his clothes went missing

My body's where they're at

The bright sunlight woke you up. You groaned as you blinked your eyes open, taking in the moment. Well, until it was interrupted. 

Luke threw his arm around you, your body covered in a large piece of fabric. “My hoodie looks nice on you.” 

You laughed softly, “You should let me keep it then.” 

“I didn’t plan on ever taking it back.” He answered, peppering soft kisses on your face, quickly finding your lips. The more your senses started to come back, the more intimate the moment felt. 

You soaked in the sunlight together, not wanting the moment to come to an end. But unfortunately, you had a cat back at your apartment who was probably meowing for food by now. 

“Gotta go, Luke.” You mumbled against his lips, doing nothing to stop his wandering hand from finding its way in between your legs. 

His lips trailed from your lips to your neck, finding that sweet spot that made you cry out softly. “You could also stay, let me take care of you.”

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

“What an asshole. He purposely put that on his private story so he could make sure you’d see it.” Your best friend, Ivy commented, taking your phone out of your hand and shutting it off. 

You laughed, “It’s fine, Ivy. I laid in that bed in that same spot a million times. It sure as hell will take more than one girl to get the smell of me out of it.”

The girl squinted her eyes before coming to a realization, “You washed his sheets with your detergent, didn’t you?”

“You bet his sorry ass I did.” You smirked.

Ivy burst out in laughter, her hands grabbing your forearms as you started to laugh along with her, “You petty bitch.”

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, I bet you do

Just know you'll taste me too

“So yeah, he got back with Natalie. That’s who that girl on his story was.” Quinn commented, taking a sip of his coffee. 

The two of you had started going out more often after you and Luke broke up. Well, when Luke broke up with you. He had claimed he just didn’t love you anymore, but after spending a little less than six months with him, you knew it was bullshit. So, as any sane person does, you called up his older brother and asked him to give you the real explanation. Since then, it had basically become routine for the two of you to catch up whenever he was back in Vancouver.

You nodded, “I figured, but thanks for letting me know.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. We told him to wait before jumping into anything, especially since he was still texting her the whole time you guys were together.” “So that ‘N’ in his phone wasn’t actually Nico? No way!” You joked, knowing that the single-letter contact couldn’t have possibly been his team’s captain. 

Uh-huh

He pins you down on the carpet

Makes paintings with his tongue (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)

His hands pinned your hips down against the living room carpet, his need to eat you out far too great to even make it to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned, gripping his damp curls. 

He kept licking at your clit, doing what felt like absolute magic against your core. “You taste so good, baby. Doing so good f’me.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations of his voice only adding to the pleasure. 

You felt yourself getting closer to your peak, the room around you slowly disappearing as you fell into a blissful state, the only thing you were focused on was how good Luke was making you feel. 

However, a consistent buzz from next to your spread legs caught your attention. Even through blurry eyes, you could see a capital ‘N’ displayed on his phone screen, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. 

Before you could say anything about it, Luke took your swollen bud into his mouth, suckling harshly, distracting you completely from saying anything.

He's funny now, all his jokes hit different

Guess who he learned that from?

Jack and Quinn had become irritated at their brother and his girlfriend’s laughter coming from the pool room. 

“I might just be bitter, but her laugh is stupidly annoying. I like Y/N’s. Hers sounds less annoying.” Jack said to Quinn, staring from the porch into the room. 

“Luke’s not even that fucking funny. All the jokes he’s telling her are jokes Y/N said to him. He could at least try to be original.” Quinn agreed.

Now I'm gone, but you're still layin'

Next to me, one degree of separation

Luke laid in his bed, waiting for Natalie to finish taking off her makeup at the desk across from him. He rolled over into the space where she now had claimed, his nostrils taking in a familiar vanilla scent.

“Nat? Did you use a new hair product or something?” He questioned, sniffing the sheets more aggressively.

Natalie made a face, “What? No, I haven’t.” 

I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too

“Stop doing that.” Luke whispered against her lips. 

Natalie groaned, “Doing what?”

He pulled away, wanting to get a better look at her face, “Tugging on my hair. I don’t like it.” “She did it all the time, Lu. I saw it.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. The only person he had let tug on his hair during a make-out or during sex was you. It didn’t feel good when anyone else did it, not even his girlfriend.

“Whatever. Just don’t do it.”

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

“Maybe we need to cut you off.” Ivy said, pulling the shot of vodka from your hand before you could take it. 

You snorted, “Nah, I’m fine.”

To everyone, it was obvious you were not fine. Emotionally, sure. But sobriety-wise? Not at all.

Ivy gave you a look of concern, “So this drinking spree you’ve been on tonight doesn’t have anything to do with Luke?”

“Nope.”

Every time you close your eyes and feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air, just know I was already there

Luke peered up at you as you pulled your hair back, “Already? Thought you’d want to kiss a little first.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up. I just don’t want my hair to keep getting stuck on my lip gloss. It’s getting annoying.” He simply laughed and pulled you back in, pressing his lips to yours yet again, savouring the taste of your cherry lip gloss as he took your bottom lip into his mouth. He felt as if he didn’t even need oxygen anymore, only you, on his lap, your lips against his. 

After a few more kisses, you pulled away to catch your breath, Luke’s hand on the back of your head keeping you close to the point where you were practically breathing against his mouth. 

You can have him if you like, I've been there, done that once or twice

And singin' 'bout it don't mean I care, yeah, I know I've been known to share

Well, I heard you're back together and if that's true

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“Oh please! It’s clear that you’re still into him, you crazy bitch!” Natalie yelled, getting the attention of a few people in the arena parking lot. 

You scoffed, “I’m not. The only reason I’m here is because of Jack, not Luke.”

“Yeah, right. You know you can say you don’t want him anymore, but it was clear at that karaoke bar that you’re still hung up on him!”

“Holy shit, how many times do I have to say it? The only reason I sang that song was because it’s a good fucking song! If I wanted him back, I could get him back.”

Natalie wasn’t even able to get a word out before you continued speaking. 

“Who do you think taught him those jokes you laugh at? Who do you think taught him how to eat pussy like a real man instead of a little bitch?” 

She listened closely to your words. Now it made sense to her why he had gotten better at eating her out after he was with you. You noticed the realization on her face and you felt a slight twinge of guilt in your stomach for exposing Luke like that, especially in a public setting. Unfortunately for him, your patience had already run thin, so you couldn’t stop yourself there. 

“I don’t care how many times you kiss him. Or how many times you fuck him. The only reason he knows what to do is because of me. And no matter how hard you try to make him forget, he won’t.” You snapped, turning on your heels before she could even inhale.

If you want forever, and I bet you do (I bet you do)

Just know you'll taste me too (Taste me too)

For the next few weeks, your words lingered in Natalie’s mind. You were right, and she knew it. The way he gripped the sheets a little tighter before she laid down, the way he all of a sudden didn’t like his hair pulled. 

She thought she wanted to marry this man, to have a family with him. But she knew you were right, Luke would never be the same after you. 

And Luke knew that too.

La-la-la-la-la-la-la

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you, no

(La-la-la-la-la-la-la) Yeah, ah-ah

You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you

“All I heard was her telling him to get over you before she stormed out the house.” Jack explained, hopping into the passenger seat of your car. You were driving him to the airport since he was heading to Chicago for his surgery. 

You hummed, “I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she called me a crazy bitch. Like it’s my fault he hasn’t moved on.” 

Jack laughed at your words, “That’s true. I don’t get it though, he broke up with you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I guess I’m just that amazing that I linger wherever I’ve been.” You joked.

“Like a taste in his mouth, he can’t get rid of?” 

Your eyes widened slightly at Jack’s shockingly accurate analogy, “Exactly.” 

[ventismacchiato]

O5 stuck with you —strawberry bong !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning — mentions of weed and getting high

“Hey guys,” Aether greets, swinging the door open. 

You and Yoimiya look up from the living room floor, where you both were sorting through what stash you had. An assortment of weird flavored vapes, an ugly bong, and a few joints. 

“Welcome,” Lumine greeted, locking the door behind the four of them. Your eyes flicker towards Scara, who’s staring around your guys’ dorm curiously. Everyone else had been there before, but he’s refused since you were present. 

Fischl flickers the lights off apart from the LEDs hung around your dorm. The space settles into a dark haze, the dim red and blue being the only source of light as everyone finds a spot. 

“You got the goods?” Childe asks, plopping down across from you as everyone settles onto the floor. Unfortunately, Scaramouche ends up next to you. He doesn’t even spare you a glance.

“Goods? What are you, 14?” Aether laughs.

Venti pulled out a small plastic bag from his pocket. It was hard to see in the lack of light, but you could see bundles of green inside.

“Here,” Venti replied, tossing the bag to you, who caught it clumsily, “You have a joint, right?.”

You tucked the bag away and pulled a joint out of your pocket, popping it out of its tube. You took a lighter from Yoimiya’s hand and it let out a lousy spark, but no flame came out.

Scara scoffs from beside you, but before you could make a comment he covered the lighter with his hand, causing a flame to come out. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking a hit, and passing it to him. 

Scaramouche took the joint from you with his free hand, bringing it to his lips. He leaned his head against the base of the couch behind you both, passing it to Childe and so on. 

Aether soon brought out his phone, connecting it to a speaker as music slipped through the room. Fischl put out a pack of UNO as you guys all started a slow paced game while passing around a joint that slowly diminished.

Venti set up his bong, much to Scara’s dismay. 

“Can you roll some blunts for me, I’m going to check if we have drinks,” Yoimiya asks, gesturing to the table. “I can try,” you slowly say, eyeing her work. You were never good at rolling, and you still weren’t if your clumsy fingers were any tell. You bit the inside of your cheek as you attempted to tuck the paper in with your fingers, but failed miserably as a bit of weed kept falling onto your lap.

“You’re shit at this.”

That was the first thing he’s said to you since your fight in the dressing rooms a few days ago, and of course it was an insult.

“Shut up, I almost got it,” you huff. 

You most certainly did not got it.

“You’re supposed to mold the weed in as you go,” Scara says, “You’re really bad at everything you do.”

You roll your eyes but follow his words. You can feel his eyes on your hands as you continue to struggle to get the paper to stay put.

Before you could give up and keep everyone waiting Scaramouche reached over to grab your wrist and pull your hand towards his face.  

“Hold the end,” he orders, folding over the paper for you as you hold the end of the soon to be blunt in front of him. His movements are swift and precise as he rolls the blunt with practiced ease. You can’t help the flicker of resentment spark up at his effortless skill.

You almost tug your hand away, not wanting his help, but he brings the blunt, and in tow you, closer to his lips. His grip on your hand is soft as he leans down and licks across the paper, his lips close to your fingers as he seals the blunt shut. He looks up to lock eyes with you, were his eyelashes always so long? 

The LEDs painted the living room in rolling light and shadow, and you were suddenly conscious of Scara’s unrelenting gaze. For a second, your eyes met his dark, half-lidded eyes. They seemed unfathomably deep, like staring into an abyss. Scaramouche soon pulled back, snapping out of whatever that was before you, and tugging the blunt out of your hands and leaning back to light it.

“That’s how you do it, dumbass,” he says, placing it between his lips.

“Whatever,” you manage to say. The image of his eyes looking up at you crystal clear in your mind. You snatched the blunt back from him, you needed to forget the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. Envy, that was surely it.

Yoimiya came back with drinks and rated your blunt an 8/10, but didn’t ask you to roll anymore throughout the night. The UNO game was soon forgotten as you guys passed around controllers to play Mario Kart and take hits. Childe insisted it was more fun when high. 

It always took you a while to start feeling it, you’ve only occasionally taken part with your members a few times. You could feel the weight of Yoimiya’s hands on your shoulder as she shouted out for you to dodge the banana peels, the stain on the ground from where Venti had knocked over his beer earlier was suddenly bothersome, and the dim lighting seemed to lull you to sleep.  

You look to your left, watching as Scara puts down a draw four for Aether, who was still playing, his nimble fingers flipping over the cards and smirking as Aether wails in response. His skin glowed warm under the flickering violet lights, his lips pulled into a frown as Aether pulled a reverse card on him. He was pretty, but you’ve always known this. It was one of the many reasons you disliked him.

Your head felt light for the first time that week, all the stress from the awards ceremony incident dissipating. It was as if the weed inside you rose up to your skin, turning you inside out, causing every emotion you felt to be turned up to the next ten dials. Every nerve in your body was buzzing with anticipation. Of what, you didn’t quite know yet. 

You promptly let your head hang limp for a while, letting your eyes fall shut as the voices of everyone around you faded into a faint noise. A few minutes pass before you find yourself falling to your left, your head landing on something soft as you drift off into nothingness.

When you come to the dorm is quiet apart from the low music of the abandoned game of Mario Kart on the tv screen. Apart from everyone else passed out and splayed across each other the first thing you notice is the fact that you're laying on someone’s lap. 

Assuming it’s Yoimiya you look up and are taken aback at Scara’s head hung a few inches above you. His arms are crossed and his chest is rising slowly, and when there isn’t a scowl or frown adorning his face, he looks rather peaceful. At that moment, Scaramouche was the epitome of contentment that even monks who cultivated for decades would be jealous of. 

You’re suddenly aware of every one of your movements, it would be humiliating for him to see you like this. You turn your attention back at the room and eye the mess you guys all made. You should really wake them all up in case Jean visits you guys in the morning, your heart can’t handle another lecture from her. 

You turn and look back up to see Scara staring at you with a heavy unrelenting gaze. You yelp and sit up abruptly, scooching away from him.

He merely stretches out his legs and leans his head back, as if you hadn’t just fallen asleep on him.

“Ew, I can’t believe I took a nap on you. Why didn’t you push me off?” you ask.

“Lumine said she’d kill me if I did,” Scara answers, his voice hoarse from just waking up, “Your big head is heavy, don't do that shit again.”

“As if I’d ever want to, fuck you,” you huff, “You’re uncomfortable,” you add. Which wasn’t true, his sweatpants were rather cushy, but you’d die before admitting that. 

“You drooled on my pants,” Scara grimaces.

“Did not!”

“This is why nobody wants to sleep with you.”

“Who told you that?!”

“Just an observation.”

You scoff and busy yourself with picking up the UNO cards scattered around you. He wasn’t completely wrong, you were too busy with idol life to seek out any sort of relationships. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Not everyone is a slut like you,” you say back, bringing your knees to your chest.

Scaramouche looks over at you for a second, an insult probably loaded atop his tongue, before he instead stands up and stretches his arms above his head. His shirt rides up for a moment, a flash of a tattoo being visible for a second before he looks around. 

“Which one is Xiao’s room?”

“First door on the left, why?”

He doesn’t answer, grabbing a vape off of the table and walking off, shutting the door behind him. 

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

guys i had to interrogate my stoner friends for help so i hope the scenes are accurate LMFAO i have no idea how this shit works

me watching how to roll a joint tutorials at 3am so the sexy scene of him licking it in front of u is accurate…

I think everyone having to hide their stashes from jean is a funny running joke

also do u guys think scara wud have a tramp stamp or what give me tattoo ideas

also lumine calls reader girl and i believe girl is a gender neutral term xx

asking again guys pls let me use ur usernames and make u a crazy fan in the au comment on the masterlist if ur interested

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — scara brainrot is being overpowered by haikyuu brainrot pls comment and leave me motivation

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @jangyung @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic

[cordeliawhohung]

pornstar!gaz x fem!reader

everything was fine until he showed up

cw: alcohol, parties, kyle is jealous jealous, arguements

Quiet music hums through the surround sound set up in the studio’s penthouse, but it’s not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of Kyle’s teeth grinding together.

Parties always set him on edge, but anything that involves work is especially excruciating. Everything is so fake. Plastic. Synthetic. The actors and actresses on set, the sounds everyone makes, the shitty positions directors always force people into; it’s just as bad off set as it is on set. Faux laughter, forced pleasantries. Even when the cameras aren’t rolling, no one can escape the fact that they’re always performing. 

Kyle wonders if you feel the same way in that sequin dress. It’s hardly long enough to cover the crux of your ass, and the spaghetti straps keep falling off your shoulders. Your lips keep curving into the most beautiful smile as you sip on your martini while chatting with various people next to the hors d'oeuvres table. Kyle’s been nursing his own drink for the last forty minutes; a strong whiskey on the rocks because they refused to serve anything as simple as a pint. The liquor is getting to him. Numbing his nerves enough to make it feel like he’s floating, but not enough to stave off that insatiable ache in his stomach. 

He’s thought about you all day. What he wants to say to you. How he wants to say it. Those words have stayed locked tight in his throat since the moment his eyes found you in the crowd. He’s nothing but a pathetic wreck of a man hiding in the corner of the room with the least amount of traffic. Some people search him out for a short conversation, but the sour mood he’s in must be acrid because they wander off not too long after attempting to chat him up. 

Leaving both you and that party far behind him is enticing. It’s hot and stuffy; utterly suffocating. Perhaps he can sleep off whatever this haze is — this roaring emotion he refuses to name — and return to it tomorrow. But he’s wasting away. That feeling inside of him has already eaten more of him than he can bear. 

It only gets worse when Simon shows up. 

He’s a difficult man to miss with his hulking size and tattooed arms. The brute cleans up nice enough with freshly washed hair and dark casual clothes that fits in well with the semi-formal attire everyone else is wearing. Kyle’s trying to be rational about the whole situation. Simon’s technically a colleague, not competition, and treating you like an object to be won feels cruel. Besides, for all he knows your little confession to him on set was scripted. 

Still, that thought doesn’t cease the memories. Doesn’t halt the way he can hear you saying it over and over again, nothing but a broken record he can’t fix. It’s corrupted the kinder memory he’s been trying to hold of your half-awake words when you told him you loved him. Him and not Simon. 

The vile thought that you say that to everyone crosses his mind, but only briefly before he flushes it out like a bad wound. 

Kyle chokes on his drink when he finds you in the crowd again and realizes that you aren’t alone. 

He can tell by your alluring smile that it’s a friendly conversation, something he shouldn’t be concerned about, and your shoulders dance with laughter at something Simon’s telling you. Kyle’s fingers twitch as he watches Simon lean closer to you, curving down to try and meet your height as he attempts to speak over the growing chatter of the crowd that fills the room. 

Something superheats Kyle’s blood to a rolling boil as he watches Simon’s hand skirt against the small of your back. He’s so incredibly soft and gentle with you, nothing but respectful as he assists you in moving away from the cunt who won’t stop digging his elbow into your side by accident — he hates it. He hates it because it should be him there with you, guiding you through a sea of drunken idiots. It hurts more knowing that it could have been him if he had just gotten over himself and approached you when he first found you.  

Then, the ever attentive Simon Riley looks through the crowd. Certainly he’s looking for a new spot. Someplace less crowded. Certainly he didn’t mean to look directly at Kyle, still hiding off on the sidelines like a proper recluse. It’s gut-wrenching, unnerving. The small smirk that pulls at Simon’s lips nearly has Kyle’s fingers squeezing through the glass in his hand, and he keeps himself from biting through his tongue as he watches the man lean down to grab your attention again. 

What Simon says to you, he can’t be sure. All he knows is that your gaze flickers through the outskirts of the crowd until you find him. Kyle has never felt so exposed in his entire life. Even his first time being bare and naked on set hadn’t left him feeling so open. But it doesn’t last long. The very moment your eyes land on him, you freeze. 

You freeze, expression stiffening, chest ceasing in movement, eyes widening. 

Then you look away. 

It’s then that Kyle realizes he can’t stand the stuffy air. 

The sun hasn’t quite set yet over London, and it’s fighting with fiery clouds and brilliant beams to stay above the horizon. It’s a luminous sight that he’s glad no one else seems interested in trying to enjoy. The terrace is completely devoid of anyone else, leaving him alone with nothing but the breeze. Everything is always better without prying eyes to ruin the view. 

But it’s too late. It’s difficult to enjoy the cotton candy clouds and beautiful shadows of the skyline when his mood is already contaminated. He’s decided that he cannot — afterall — go through with this attempt. This silly notion that he can admit his feelings to you. A storm of emotions brews in the cauldron of his stomach, and he’s choking on the fumes. It’s too much. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you over his inability to keep himself grounded. 

A loud burst of chatter bleeds into the evening air followed by sharp heels clacking against the concrete floor of the terrace as the sliding glass door opens and quickly shuts once again. Kyle freezes, knuckles creaking with strain as he grips the flimsy railing keeping him from turning into red paste on the pavement countless stories down. He’s hidden behind the brick corner of the building, trying to stay out of view, but he can feel that it’s you. You’re tugging on that string wrapped around your finger, and following the line until you find him. 

“Was hoping you’d show up,” you admit, chipper. Your elbow brushes against his as you settle against the railing next to him, and Kyle can feel the embers you leave in your wake, charring his skin. “I know these functions aren’t really your type of thing.” 

Kyle huffs something sour, something more abrasive than intended, and his head hangs low as he stares at his feet. 

“Yeah, gettin’ a bit crowded in there,” he concurs. 

Talking to you has never been so difficult before, but now Kyle can’t even bring himself to look at you. His own feelings and thoughts keep choking him, and he regrets not running away when he still had the chance. It’s all so stale and robotic, and he can feel the tension twisting up his spine, clenching his jaw and settling as a deep ache in the back of his neck. 

“I, uh, wanted to apologize properly for the other night, and thank you, by the way,” you continue. His aloofness is obvious. It permeates through his pores and soaks into the exposed skin of your arm, dripping down your dress until it stains your legs. “I’m still really embarrassed about all of it. I don’t normally drink that much.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Kyle says in an attempt to assure you. “I know you didn’t mean it.” 

The air shifts, and Kyle realizes he’s fucked up. 

He finally looks at you and finds your brows knitted close together. There’s a slight tilt in your head, a flicker of your eyes, an attempt to recall a memory that’s not quite there. His stomach drops when you open your mouth and he realizes that you don’t remember that night at all. 

“Didn’t mean what?” you question. 

It’s too late to turn back; he’s got one foot in the grave already. His lips press together and he swallows down the stale aftertaste of liquor as he shakes his head. 

“You didn’t mean it when you said you loved me,” he clarifies. 

Kyle doesn’t know what he expects from you. A real confession? You to backpedal? For you to call him crazy? What he doesn’t realize is that while he’s spent months learning you, months tracing your body with his fingertips and pressing kisses against your skin, or getting lost in the scent of you, you’ve been learning him, too. You’ve learned that he likes it when you kiss his stomach, and that he hates accidentally bruising you. You’ve learned that his eyes always dilate when they land on you, clothed or not, and his fingers twitch when he smiles, like they’re missing the warmth of something. Most importantly, you’ve learned that his jaw only flexes like this when he’s angry. 

“Kyle,” you say cautiously, “are you mad at me?” 

Confusion clouds his eyes and he tries his best to blink it away. “I’m not mad.” 

“But you are,” you insist. 

“Why would I be mad?” he defends as he pushes himself away from the railing. “If you didn’t mean it, then you didn’t mean it.” 

You turn and follow him as he backs away from you. There’s an odd twist in his feet as he points his toes away from you, as if he’s trying to flee. Your arms cross over your chest, and while Kyle would usually ogle at the way your tits press together with the motion, all he can do is stand there and wait for the retort he can see brewing in your eyes. 

“Who said I didn’t mean it?” you challenge. 

“Dunno, you hardly seem to remember it, anyway.” Kyle says with a shrug. Then he pauses. “Did you mean it when you said it to Simon on set today?” 

The shiny lip gloss coating your lips forces them to pop when you open your mouth to retort, yet the only thing you can manage is a laugh in disbelief. It’s such a sour laugh that it burns your throat on the way out, and you have to look away from Kyle to keep yourself from spouting a snarky comment you’re sure you’ll regret. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you say as you roll your eyes. 

“Am I?” he disputes. 

“Are you seriously holding something I said on set against me? Are you really gonna be upset with me over that?” 

“I’m not upset with you,” he retorts. 

“But you are!” 

An exacerbated sigh exhales between Kyle’s lips as he brings a hand up to his face. Long fingers rub at the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. His teeth haven’t stopped grinding throughout this entire exchange. 

“This was a mistake,” he mutters. 

It’s a swift movement that he makes to turn around, nearly spinning like a top on his heels, but you don’t let him get away that easily. Sharp, unforgiving brick scrapes against your elbow as you reach out for him, and the tips of your fingers get caught in the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. Kyle doesn’t fight against you as he turns back to face you with a huff. His fingers wrap around your wrist as he attempts to gently pry you off of him. 

“You’re an idiot,” you say with narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, so I’m an idiot now? I thought I was unbelievable?” he asks with a raised brow, razor sharp attitude, and steam pouring from his ears. 

Heat radiates off of his body so feverishly that it doesn’t feel real. The way his breath fans across your face has your knees feeling weak, and despite the pent up rage that’s locked inside of him, he still looks at you with as much love as he always has. It’s infuriating how, despite it all, he’s still been the kindest person you’ve ever met. 

“You are. Because if you’ve got the ears to hear me tell Simon that I loved him on set today, then you certainly must have heard it when I accidentally called him by your name, too,” you seethe.

For a moment, all either of you can do is breathe. Air comes hot and heavy and they dance in the small, empty space between you and Kyle. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you, but the grip he has on your wrist starts to loosen. Desperate eyes scan his face, searching for something — anything — and yet there’s nothing new that there wasn’t there before. Still, he is silent. 

“Don’t you… don’t you get what I’m trying to say here?” you ask. Any frustration in your voice has vanished. Replaced instead with a tone that cracks as the fabric of his shirt slips between your fingers. “Kyle, I-”

Soft lips clash with yours, silencing the rest of your speech just as the exposed skin of your back meets the cool, rough surface of the brick wall behind you. Your wrist is still in Kyle’s hand, and he holds it close to his chest as he pins you with the rest of his body, holding you still so he can devour you properly. You don’t fight against it, in fact you do quite the opposite. Your free hand snakes around his neck and glides up the back of his head, and your mouth moves in sync with his. Salt and liquor melts on your tongue, and while the tension in your shoulders dissolves, a heedy want ignites in your stomach. 

Kyle only pulls away when you’re both panting between bites, but he doesn’t move far. His forehead rests against yours as his hands make a home in the curves of your hips. The sequins on your dress are abrasive and annoying, getting caught in the buttons of his shirt, but he doesn’t mind getting tangled in you. 

“Come home with me,” he whispers. His thumbs ghost the hem of your dress, and you can feel the way he wants to hike it up. There’s very little stopping him from throwing your leg over his waist and fucking you there on the terrace, and you know there would be very little protest from you if he did. “Please, doll.” 

“Okay.” It takes very little for you to give in. Hardly any effort at all. “Take me home, Kyle.” 

His lips crash against yours in another kiss before he’s pulling you away from the wall and around the corner. It’s then that you realize, you think you’d follow Kyle Garrick anywhere. So you do. You follow him back into the penthouse, through the crowd of co-workers, all the way until you reach the elevator. It’s childish the way you two grin and giggle to each other, sneaking off like young fools in love. Maybe it’s because you are. 

By the time the elevator doors close, you forget all about that stupid party. All you can focus on is Kyle’s hands on your hips and the look in his eyes. You can tell from his dilated pupils that he’s going to have fun making a mess out of you now that he’s finally going to get you all to himself.

[begginmonty]

(move spoilers i guess if you havent seen it?? blood mentions)

instead of vanessa, you're the one at the end of afton's knife. you had watched as afton had gone to go attack mike and abby, you quickly remembered vanessa had given you her gun, so you shot. twice. and he turned to you, giving mike and abby a second to run or hide. afton had an evil grin on his face as he strode towards you, too quick for you to react, and pulled you in almost for like a hug. his knife plunging into your stomach, a pained gasp leaving your lips. your mouth wavered open, gripping the knife in your abdomen with trembling hands, tears in your eyes. afton looked you right in the eye, evil, pure evil.

you didn't remember too much. abby had alerted mike to what was happening, and mike looked over at you, creating an image that would permanently be etched into his brain. you looked so scared and so in pain, the blood dripping through your fingers was something he'd never forget. vanessa had managed to distract her dad just enough for abby to do her drawings and for the animatronics to turn against their captor. "y/n!" mike had yelled, running over to you, where you still stood shocked, unsure what do to. you moved your hand and the knife fell out. your breathing quickened, and you began to cry silently. you remembered looking at mike who's arms were around you as you nearly fell, a look of fear upon his features, unsure what to do to help. you passed out in mikes arms a few seconds later, both of you on the ground. "y/n? y/n??? no no no no, y/n" he had never panicked so much in his life, holding your head, "come on come on come on, please, y/n, y/n"

it took almost a week for you to wake up. but mike and abby visited you everyday, vanessa did too. drawings from abby covered the hospital bedside table, they were all drawings of you being a hero or you, her and mike altogether holding hands. mike had told you that he loved you for the first time, sitting next to you on a plastic chair, holding your hand, brushing the hair out of your face, as you were unconscious.

mike was away when he got the call you had woken up, he risked all the speeding tickets for you. despite everything you had endured, you still had a smile on your face when you saw a tired mike entering the room. he sat down next to you, and held your hand in an instant.

"the nurse told me you slept here a lot" and he blushed a little. he tried to apologise and you wouldn't let him, it wasn't his fault. you could see tears well in his eyes, you knew he was beating himself up. and the two of you sat and talked for a long time, and you stroked his face with your finger, happy to see him. he wiped the stray tear rolling from your eyes, moving your arms too much hurt you a lot and all you wanted to do was hug mike.

you were in the hospital for nearly a good month basically. mike made sure to come and see you everyday, you told him he didn't have to but he still did. abby visited a lot of the times too, sitting next to you on the bed, reading the cards she'd wrote you and she explained all her drawings to you. mike would stay with you until he was kicked out due to visiting hours over but you had a nice nurse who would accidentally forget mike was in the room and let him stay longer.

you were finally given the all clear. mike was helping you pack your stuff in the hospital room. "do you want to move in with me and abby?" it took you by surprise. the bright smile on your face answered his question.

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.