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nevernonline · 2 months ago

Text

✧.* talk too much; kmg

synopsis: a charismatic but slightly awkward mingyu, whose tendency to talk too much creates hilariously unpredictable situations. one early morning he spots a stranger sitting in the corner of the café—someone who's quiet, mysterious, and a little intimidating. drawn to her aura, he strikes up a conversation. but every time he opens his mouth, his words seem to betray him.

paring: mingyu x fem! reader.

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 11k

content: . non-idol idolings, awkward over sharer mingyu.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. ( there's a part 2 in my drafts fully bc I couldn't stop writing about these two)

The bell above the café door jingled as the stranger stepped inside. Mingyu, standing in front of the register, halfway through recounting a story to his favorite barista about the time he accidentally adopted a stray cat. He paused mid-sentence, caught off guard by the stranger’s presence.

She was unlike anyone who usually wandered into the cozy café—a stark contrast to the warm, inviting space. Dressed in muted tones, she carried an air of quiet confidence and mystery, expression unreadable. The girl didn’t look around or hesitate, walking directly to a table in the far corner as though she had been here a hundred times before.

Mingyu watched her settle in, his curiosity piqued. The girl placed a cherry red leather-bound journal on the table, opened it to a blank page, and began scribbling furiously.

“She doesn't look like she’s here for the coffee,” Mingyu muttered to himself.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the notepad behind the counter from his stunned regular bar keep and approached the table.

“Hi there,” he said brightly. “Welcome to uh, Black Rabbit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? One of the world-famous muffins? Well, they’re not world-famous yet, but I think they are. Anyway—”

The stranger looked up, her sharp eyes meeting his. Mingyu froze for a moment, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say next.

“Black coffee,” the stranger said curtly. Her voice was low, measured, and entirely unimpressed.

“Got it. One black coffee. Simple. Classic. You know, I respect that. Some people come in here and order drinks with so many extra syrups and toppings it’s like they’re trying to create a dessert in disguise. But you—you’re all about the essentials.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this? Also do you even work here?”

Mingyu blinked, realizing he was rambling. “Uh, nope! No point. Just making conversation. I’ll get that coffee for you. And, uh, no I don’t. Just helping out.”

He turned and practically sprinted back to the counter, silently berating himself. “Cool, Mingyu. It's really cool.”

When he returned with the coffee, he found her staring out the window, lost in thought. He set the cup down gently, but instead of leaving, he spoke again.

“Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but are you... writing something? You looked really focused earlier. Like, next-level focused. Are you an author? Or maybe a secret spy writing down your next mission?”

The stranger sighed, looking back at him with an exasperated expression. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Only when I’m curious,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “And I’m very curious about you. You’ve got that whole mysterious, ‘I’ve got secrets’ vibe going on.”

The girl finally gave a hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable. “Maybe I do.”

That small flicker of amusement was all the encouragement Mingyu needed. “Okay, so you are a spy. Or an undercover rockstar. Oh! Or a—”

“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to work,” she interrupted, though her tone was softer now.

Mingyu took a step back, raising his hands. “Got it. I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything—like a refill, a snack, or a friendly face—I’m your guy.”

“But you said you don’t work here.”

As he walked away, the stranger shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. Mingyu may have talked too much, but there was something disarmingly genuine about him that made it hard to stay annoyed.

Heading up to grab his own cup from the counter, Mingyu stole another glance at her and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of story they were carrying—and whether he’d somehow become a part of it.

The next afternoon, the café was busier than usual, filled with a mix of students typing away on their laptops and a few regulars deep in conversation. Mingyu was at the counter, enthusiastically explaining to another regular Mrs. Park how the secret to perfect coffee lay in "a gentle pour and a mindful attitude," when the bell jingled again.

Mingyu's head snapped up, and sure enough, the girl from yesterday was back. This time, she seemed even more aloof, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling back on her spot in the corner. She didn't notice Mingyu’s stare as she quietly set down her cherry red journal and began flipping through its pages.

Mingyu found himself momentarily frozen in place, suddenly aware of how *awkward* his last encounter had been. "Don't be weird this time. Don't overdo it," he muttered to himself, but his mind was already spiraling into potential conversation starters. What if he said something she’d find interesting? What if he said too much?

With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped away from the counter. He was *determined* to keep things casual.

“Hey, you,” Mingyu called out, walking toward her table, “back again, huh? Is the coffee that good, or are you just here for a change of scenery?”

The girl looked up from her journal, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke in her usual flat tone. “Just getting out of the house for a while.”

Mingyu nodded, trying to read the mood. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, you just need a little break from your own four walls. I mean, my walls are full of stuff—vinyl records, old concert tickets, a couple of questionable cat sweaters... but still.”

Her lips twitched, just for a second. “A questionable cat sweater?”

Mingyu grinned. “Yeah. It’s got a picture of a cat wearing glasses, trying to look intellectual. But honestly, I think it just makes the cat look like it’s about to take over the world. It was for my work Christmas party, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worn it more than once.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “I’d like to see that.”

Mingyu’s heart did a little flip. She’s smiling. "It’s not for sale. Only available to cat enthusiasts who appreciate the depth of their feline overlords."

Her smile lingered for just a second longer before it faded back into the neutral expression she wore so often. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.

Mingyu felt a brief hesitation. Maybe it was better not to press too hard. He had a tendency to run with a conversation until it got awkward, and right now, the conversation felt almost... comfortable.

"So," Mingyu started, his mind racing for something else to say, “I’m guessing you’re writing more top-secret spy notes today? Or is it a shocking revelation about how you once got lost in a supermarket for three hours?”

The girl’s eyebrow arched. “That’s an oddly specific guess.”

Mingyu shrugged. “You'd be surprised how many people get lost in supermarkets. But, you know, it's all about the aisles and the lights. Before you know it, you're trapped in the frozen food section, wondering how you got there in the first place.”

She watched him for a moment, then laughed softly—a real laugh this time, not just a polite chuckle. It was low, but genuine, and it made Mingyu’s chest feel lighter than it had in days.

“Okay, I’ll admit that’s sort of funny, considering I assume you’re speaking from experience,” she said, surprising him even more. “But no, I’m not writing about that. Just...” She paused for a moment, her fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Just... trying to work through some things.”

The shift in her tone was subtle, but Mingyu could feel the change. For the first time, he wasn’t just a guy talking too much. He was hearing her in a way that felt real, as if she was opening up to him without fully realizing it.

“I get it,” Mingyu said, his voice softening. “Sometimes you just need a space to think things through. Like, I talk on the radio every night—way too much sometimes—but I guess it helps me sort out my own head.”

The girl looked up at him then, her eyes lingering on his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart race.

“You talk on the radio?” she asked.

Mingyu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You could say I’m kind of a big deal, I mean here anyway to people who know me” He made a vague gesture to the café around them. “But only to the people who are really into weird facts and random stories. Like, one time I told my listeners about how I accidentally ended up with two lunch boxes after a miscommunication with a vending machine. I’m not proud of it, but hey, it makes for a great segment."

She tilted her head slightly. “What else do you talk about?”

Mingyu opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he was getting carried away. "Well, I don't want to bore you with my radio segment. Not everyone's cup of tea."

She looked thoughtful for a second. “I’d listen to you.”

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still steady. “If you were actually interesting enough.”

Mingyu burst out laughing. “Okay, ouch. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

She shrugged, and for a moment, Mingyu just stood there, unsure whether he’d said something that was too much or if she was just being her usual, unreadable self.

Finally, he broke the silence with a casual, “If you do end up listening, I’ll make sure to talk about my cat sweater for at least twenty minutes. That’ll make it worth your while.”

A flash of amusement crossed her face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Mingyu smirked, making a mental note to talk in depth about his weird festive sweater, “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“If you’re worth it.” A challenge from the enigma of a girl.

“Okay, I’m Mingyu, by the way.”

She just smiled as he walked off and went back to her black coffee without another word.

Later in the night, the rain hitting the pavement outside of his office he watched as he had just finished setting up for his radio show. He spoke into the microphone, he could still feel the weight of his earlier conversation with the girl in the café. Something about her, her quiet mystery, had left him thinking, and for the first time in a long while, he felt calm on air.

“Good evening, everyone,” Mingyu’s voice boomed through the mic. “I’m your host, Mingyu, here to take you through the night with some extremely random thoughts in between your hot hit countdown. But first, let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart: cats. Yes, that’s right. Cats. And how, in some cultures, they’re considered mystical beings that can sense your innermost thoughts. Which, if you ask me, explains a lot about why my cat is currently judging me for eating cereal at 11 PM.”

He paused, chuckling to himself as he imagined the girl sitting in the corner of the café, maybe listening to him right now.

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning into the mic. “If anyone out there has a cat sweater as legendary as mine, I’d love to hear about it. Or if you’ve ever gotten lost in a supermarket, accidentally adopting an extra lunchbox, send me a message. You know, just the things we all need to talk about. Let’s connect, guys. Let’s keep it real. If you’re watching us live right now on Youtube leave your stories in the chat or don’t hesitate to hit me up on twitter at gyunation.”

The next morning, the café was as cozy as ever, with soft music playing in the background and a few early risers getting their caffeine fix. Mingyu was ordering coffee when the door opened again. He turned, already knowing who it was before she even walked in.

The girl from the had returned. She gave him a small, knowing smile as she walked in and headed toward her usual table.

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d hold you to it.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’re wearing your cat sweater today,” she said with a hint of a smile, her eyes glinting. “And I’m listening to you. Now, tell me about the mystical powers of cats, Mingyu.”

Mingyu couldn’t help it. He grinned. He’d found a way to connect, just like he’d always hoped—through the stories, through the weirdness, and maybe, just maybe, through the unexpected bonds that only seemed to form when you weren’t trying so hard.

“If you finally tell me your name.”

“It’s y/n.”

Mingyu blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering in his eyes. "Y/N," he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it. It was simple, yet it felt like a small victory. There was something about hearing her name that made everything feel a little less mysterious, a little more real.

“I didn’t expect it to be so... normal,” Mingyu said with a half-joking grin, but there was a warmth in his tone that made the words feel genuine. "I was kind of hoping for something cooler, like... I don't know, Phoenix or something. Or even Astrid, that would’ve been a great name."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

Mingyu let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “Maybe. I get random ideas sometimes. Like, when I was younger, I was convinced my name should’ve been something cooler, like Max or Axel. But then I realized I was always just Mingyu. And now, well, I’m starting to like it." He hesitated for a second. “I’m starting to like the name y/n too.”

There was a flicker of something in her expression, something soft and fleeting, before it was replaced with her usual composed demeanor. “I’m glad to know you like it. Mingyu is honestly a nicer name than Axel. Though, you’re still in trouble. I’m waiting for my cat wisdom.”

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically, happy to follow the new flow of their conversation. He slid into the chair across from her, trying to hide the fact his hands were still slightly shaking from the excitement of actually talking with her. “Okay, okay. The mystical powers of cats—where do I even begin?” He leaned in dramatically, as if about to reveal some ancient secret.

"First of all, cats are masters of manipulation," Mingyu began, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "I mean, if you’ve ever had a cat sit on your lap, staring at you like they know you’ve got food, but they're too dignified to beg—that’s sort of like when you know you’re in their power."

Y/N’s lips twitched, and for the first time, she seemed fully engaged in his rambling. “Manipulation, huh?” she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I thought we were talking about mystical powers, not deviousness."

Mingyu grinned. “That is their mystical power, come on. They can manipulate you into giving them whatever they want, whether it’s food, affection, or a new scratching post. It’s all about the gaze, the quiet dominance. There’s a reason people say cats can see into your soul.”

Y/N nodded slowly, clearly entertained. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the mystical part? You know, the one where cats are supposed to be magical, like, bringing good luck and stuff.”

“That’s a good one.” Mingyu leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with the sudden spark of inspiration. “Well, think about it. Cats sleep all day, but when they wake up, they’re already confident they can get what they want. They just know that time is precious, that sleep is sacred, and that the real power is in being present when it counts.”

He paused for a second, realizing that this wasn’t just him making random, funny observations anymore. There was something about how he’d said it—how focused he’d been—something deeper that he hadn’t planned for. Mingyu quickly shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Okay, maybe I’ve been watching too many cat videos, but you get what I mean, right?”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I get it. Cats don’t waste time. They don’t do things for anyone but themselves. That’s kind of powerful.”

“Exactly.” Mingyu’s smile was so wide it threatened to overtake his face. “It’s like they’ve got it all figured out. We’re all running around, doing a million things at once, but cats? They take it easy, let things come to them and somehow, it works out.”

Y/N sat there, looking at him for a moment, before her gaze drifted down to her journal. "I never thought about it that way," she said quietly.

Mingyu noticed the shift in her energy. It was subtle, but he could tell that his words had struck something deep. Before he could say anything more, she lifted her head again, her expression more thoughtful than before.

"Maybe I need to take a page out of the cat playbook," she murmured, almost to herself.

Mingyu watched her for a moment, wondering if he’d said too much, or if he was getting into dangerous territory where he might have pushed her too far with his endless chatter. But when she glanced back up at him, there was no irritation, only curiosity.

“I think we all do,” Mingyu said softly. “We could all use a little more time to just be. No pressure. No rush. Just existing in the moment.”

Y/N gave a small smile, and for the first time, Mingyu felt like it wasn’t just her pulling away from the world. It was almost like she was letting a piece of herself connect to him, in this little moment of vulnerability.

"So," he said after a beat, trying to keep the conversation light, "what are you going to do now? Go home and take a nap like a true cat?"

Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But maybe I’ll actually finish what I’m writing today. You know, before I get distracted by any more of your stories."

Mingyu’s grin widened, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't realized he was craving. “I promise, I’ll keep the stories to a minimum. But if you need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

She raised her cup of coffee, as if to make a toast. "I might just have to do that."

Later that day Mingyu returned to his usual post at the counter on his break from the studio, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d just had with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about a conversation. His thoughts wandered back to her, and how she hadn’t seemed annoyed by his rambling. Instead, she’d actually listened—like she wanted to listen.

As the afternoon light filtered through the café windows, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N from the counter. She was still scribbling in her journal, her focus so intense it was almost like she was channeling her own version of that "cat power" he had talked about earlier.

And maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of her story. Or at least, part of the narrative she was writing in her mind.

The thought made him smile to himself, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just talking to fill silence. He was talking because it felt like she was listening—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the sound of his voice, too.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her things from the table and walked up to him standing in line,”I already got you another one, I remembered you came here around this time yesterday so I just took a shot.” Her fingers brushing against his in the exchange.

“I think it’s going to be just what I need,” he said softly, her smile lingering.

Mingyu nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet space between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but there was something comforting in the silence, something deeper than just shared words. It was like they both understood that there was more here than just a random meeting. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to find something that couldn’t easily be put into words.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Mingyu asked, leaning against the counter, trying to keep the conversation going. “Any secret missions? Any mysteries waiting to be solved?”

Y/N took a sip of her espresso, savoring the rich taste before setting the cup down and looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I have been thinking about something,” she said, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be somewhere. You know? Per our earlier conversation. Not just physically, but mentally. To actually let yourself be present and not be running from one thing to the next.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed as he processed her words. “I get that,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “I think... I think I’ve been running around like that a lot lately. Always filling up my time with stuff, trying to get things done, but I’m never really here, you know? It’s like, I’m always on autopilot.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Exactly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But sometimes, the quiet is where the answers are.”

Mingyu felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. It was as though they were having a conversation that was much bigger than coffee, much bigger than just now. It felt like she was giving him a glimpse into something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.

"You know," he said softly, "I think I needed to hear that today."

Y/N looked at him, her gaze steady. "I think you were meant to hear it."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the whole world outside the café had faded into the background. It was just him and her, and in this small, quiet space, they had carved out a little corner of understanding.

But before he could say anything more, Y/N stood, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said, offering him a gentle smile. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Same time?” Mingyu asked, suddenly eager for the next day, for the next conversation, for the next moment with her.

She gave a slight nod, her smile turning a little more playful. “Same time. And don’t forget your charm, Mingyu.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll bring it. I promise.”

As Y/N left the café, Mingyu stood there for a moment, watching her go. He had no idea what was coming next, no idea what kind of story he and Y/N were writing together. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to rush ahead to the next chapter. He was content to let it unfold, slowly and naturally, like the turning of a page.

And when the door swung closed behind her, he found himself already looking forward to tomorrow.

This time, he didn’t mind that he was talking too much.

It was a slow evening at the radio station. Mingyu leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily in circles while a groovy indie track filled the studio. The red ON AIR sign glowed softly above the window, casting the room in a warm, familiar light.

"Alright, everyone," Mingyu said into the mic as the song faded. His voice slid effortlessly into his signature radio tone—smooth, playful, and just a touch self-deprecating. "It's your favorite over-sharer again. If you're tuning in tonight, let me know you're out there. Send me your requests, your shout-outs, or your best guess for how long it took me to ruin my dinner plans this week."

As he flipped through a stack of vinyl records, his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the now not so stranger at the café. She had become a regular fixture in his life over such a short time, always sitting in the same corner, writing in that journal of hers.

The thought made him smile, and before he knew it, he was speaking again.

"You know," he began, leaning closer to the mic, "there’s this person who’s been hanging around my favorite café lately. They don’t say much, but there’s something about them—you know, the kind of person who’s like a locked treasure chest. You just want to figure out what’s inside. I, of course, have been trying to charm them with my wit and sparkling conversation. Has it worked? I’d say sort of. But hey, persistence is key, right?"

He chuckled, then added, “Anyway, I’ve decided to name them ‘Mystery Corner Person.’ If you’re listening, MCP, this one’s for you.”

Mingyu queued up the next track—a dreamy, nostalgic tune that felt just right. As it played, he leaned back and sighed, wondering if she's still listening to hear his ridiculous ramblings.

But, she did.

The next morning at the café, y/n walked in earlier than usual, her journal tucked under one arm. Mingyu was sitting at a high top table at the window when they approached him directly.

“I heard your show last night,” she said, her voice as calm and unreadable as ever.

Mingyu froze, a muffin balanced precariously in one hand. “Oh, uh—did you?”

Y/n tilted her head. “Mystery Corner Person?”

Mingyu’s ears turned pink. “That... might’ve been about you.”

“I figured.” They placed their journal on the counter, resting their hand on the cover. “You’re very open. I was waiting for you to bring it up actually.”

“I like to think it’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin.

For a moment, they just stared at him, and Mingyu worried he’d made a fool of himself again. But then, to his surprise, the stranger smiled—a real, genuine smile.

“Your persistence is let’s just say.. entertaining,” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth.

Mingyu felt a rush of relief and a spark of something else—hope, maybe. “Does this mean you’ll give me a shot? By being friends, I mean. Or acquaintances. Or—well, anything, really.”

Y/n chuckled softly, their smile lingering. “I’ll give you a shot.”

As they turned to head to their usual corner, Mingyu couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for the first time, he felt like he might actually be breaking through that carefully guarded exterior.

He picked up his muffin and placed it back on the plate, walking over to their table with a little extra bounce in his step. Maybe his tendency to talk too much wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“So, mystery corner person,” Mingyu started, his voice light, playful. “Does this mean we’re friends now, or are you just humoring me?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quivering. “I’d say we’re on the road to friendship. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Mingyu said, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, still standing. He tried to suppress the urge to keep talking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have the best stories, and I’m betting you’ve got some good ones. Maybe you’ll share them with me one day.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound melodic. “I’m not exactly one for sharing my whole life, though. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, no pressure,” Mingyu said quickly, lifting his hands as if in mock surrender. “You’ve got your own time. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m a terrible secret keeper. So if you start telling me anything too wild, I might end up broadcasting it.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Y/N replied, her tone a little teasing. “I’ll make sure to be careful around you then.”

Mingyu smiled at the playful challenge in her voice. He was surprised how easy it felt to talk to her now. There was something about her calm, unruffled nature that made him feel comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.

He sat down at the edge of the table, leaning forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the radio host charm for now,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “But you should know, it’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been talking to a microphone alone for so long, I forget there are real people out there sometimes.”

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “I think it’s a good thing. You’ve got a way of making everything sound a little brighter.”

Mingyu blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but he found himself chuckling, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said about my rambling.”

Y/N gave a slight shrug, but her eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like rambling is a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to just say things and see where they go.”

“See?” Mingyu said, leaning in as if he’d cracked a code. “That’s what I’m talking about. You get it. You’re a fellow over-sharer in disguise, I just know it.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’ll have to decide whether you’re worthy of knowing my secrets first.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t annoy you with my stories,” Mingyu said with a wink. “But I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be sharing anything you don’t want me to.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Y/N said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Mingyu chuckled, standing up from his chair and giving a mock bow. “Alright, I’ll leave you to write. But, just so you know, I’m very persistent, so you’re going to be seeing a lot of me, mystery corner person.”

Y/n just waved him off, “For someone who wanted to learn my name so badly you’re in the habit of not using it.”

“Ah, you’ll be hearing a lot more of it. Don’t worry too much.”

Y/N shook her head with a faint smile, but just as he turned to leave, something tugged at her resolve. She called out after him, her voice hesitant yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?” He turned around quickly, almost like he’d been waiting for her to say his name again. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, words hanging unspoken.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook as if it could anchor her nerves. “Would you want to have dinner or something? I mean now that we’re friends, I figured we could hang out more. Not just over coffee.”

Mingyu’s expression softened into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “I’d love that,” he said without hesitation. “How about tonight? I’m off at 7:30. Can we meet at Yeatta’s? It’s just a block or two from here.”

“Yeah, that works for me,” Y/N replied, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to play it cool.

“Great,” Mingyu said, his excitement barely contained as he gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

As he walked away, Y/N found herself staring at the space he had just vacated, her lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. There was something about Mingyu that made her heart feel lighter—like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something worth holding onto.

Mingyu arrived at Yeatta’s at exactly 7:25, five minutes early but not surprising given the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager. When Y/N walked in a minute later, scanning the small, warmly lit restaurant, she found him standing by the entrance, his smile lighting up as soon as he spotted her.

“Right on time,” he teased, holding the door open for her. “I was starting to think you might stand me up.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, smirking as she stepped inside. “You’d just hunt me down at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

“True,” Mingyu admitted with a grin. “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

They were seated at a cozy booth near the back, the smell of wood-fired pizza and roasted garlic wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Y/N found herself relaxing more than she expected, her usual hesitations melting away under Mingyu’s easy charm.

“So,” Mingyu began, unfolding his napkin with a flourish, “are you going to finally tell me what you were writing so furiously in that notebook of yours?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked up the menu. “You mean the “mystery notebook” that you keep trying to pry into? Not a chance.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “You can’t keep a secret forever. Especially not from me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Nice try. Maybe if you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

“Deal.” Mingyu grinned like he had already won. “But first, what’s your go-to comfort food? And what drinks should we get? I need to know if you’re a pizza or pasta person before it kills me.”

“Depends on the mood,” she said, glancing over the menu. “But tonight? Definitely pasta and red wine. You?”

“Pizza all the way, yes to the wine for sure, I might get white though? Better for the red sauce is what I’ve heard before, not sure if it’s true.” he said confidently. “ But I’m flexible. We can share if you want to try both.”

The waiter had just placed their wine glasses on the table, a rich red for Y/N and a sparkling white for Mingyu, who claimed he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur but was always up for a little sparkle. As they clinked their glasses, the sound rang out softly, blending into the warm hum of conversation around them.

“To new friends,” Mingyu said with a grin.

“And persistent ones,” Y/N added with a sly smile before taking a sip. The wine was smooth, warming her from the inside as much as the company did.

“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back comfortably in his chair, “tell me something about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking as she swirled the wine in her glass. “Hm,I used to play the cello when I was younger. Like, seriously. Competitions and everything.”

“No way,” Mingyu said, his eyes widening in surprise. “Why don’t you still play?”

“I got too busy with school, life, and, well, other things took over,” she said with a shrug, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “But it was fun while it lasted. Your turn.”

“Something you wouldn’t guess about me?” Mingyu echoed, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Alright. I once auditioned for a cooking show.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What happened?”

“Well,” he began, leaning in like he was about to reveal a deep, dark secret, “I made it to the second round. But then I totally botched a dessert challenge because I got the sugar and salt mixed up.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh no! What were you trying to make?”

“A soufflé,” Mingyu groaned, dramatically slumping in his chair. “I thought I’d be impressive, but instead, I made the world’s saltiest disaster.”

“I would’ve loved to see that,” Y/N said, still laughing. “You’re brave, though. I can barely cook for myself, let alone under pressure.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty decent cook these days,” Mingyu said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself and cook for you sometime.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but smiled. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be the judge. Ramsay style.”

The conversation naturally shifted as the wine loosened their inhibitions. Y/N talked about her love for old bookstores and how she could lose hours flipping through dusty pages, imagining the lives of people who owned them before. Mingyu shared his obsession with spontaneous road trips, confessing that he once drove five hours just to try a diner he saw on TV.

“You’re kidding,” Y/N said, incredulous but amused. “Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Mingyu said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Best blueberry pancakes of my life..”

Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You’re so carefree. I don’t know if I could ever just get up and go like that.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asked, genuinely curious. “Sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, taking another sip of wine. “But I’m more of a planner. I like knowing what’s ahead.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, his tone playful but with a trace of sincerity, “if you ever feel like throwing the plan out the window, let me know. I’m pretty good at finding adventures.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when the waiter approached with their pizza—a perfectly charred margherita, the thin crust bubbling with golden edges, fresh basil leaves glistening against the vibrant red of the tomato sauce. The aroma alone made Y/N’s stomach rumble, but neither of them reached for a slice right away. Instead, they lingered over their wine, the warm, dim light casting a golden glow over the table as their laughter filled the space between them.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as he recounted one of his more daring childhood memories. “So, I was about ten, and I decided I was going to build the fucking coolest treehouse in the neighborhood,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “I had this old plank of wood, some rusty nails, and no clue what I was doing, obviously. I climbed up this huge tree in my backyard—like, way higher than I should’ve—and started hammering away. Next thing I know, one of the branches snapped, and there I was, dangling halfway up the tree, screaming for my mom.”

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “No way. You didn’t fall, did you?”

“No,” Mingyu said, shaking his head dramatically. “But I was stuck for maybe three hours? My mom had to call the neighbors to bring a ladder. And the worst part? My treehouse was just some lame ass piece of wood dangling from the tree like I was. It wasn’t exactly the cool architectural design I pictured.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “That’s hilarious. I can totally picture you as this ambitious little kid, full of big plans and no backup.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mingyu said, chuckling. “I had all the ideas but zero execution. What about you? Any wild childhood adventures? Secret missions rather, since you’re a mystery.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then her expression softened, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re a little bit of a smartass, huh? When I was fifteen, I used to sneak out of the house late at night—not to go to parties or anything. I’d climb out my bedroom window and bike to this hill just outside town. It was the perfect spot to stargaze. I’d lie there for hours, just staring at the sky, convinced I was going to be an astronomer one day. And as I got older I still go sometimes, just to have a beer and sit alone, it helps me relax.”

Mingyu’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as she spoke. “That sounds really nice actually,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why astronomy?”

“I think I liked how small it made me feel,” Y/N admitted, swirling her wine glass absently. “Like, no matter how big my problems seemed, they were nothing compared to the universe. Plus, I thought if I studied the stars, maybe I could find some meaning up there. I was always sort of lost as a kid, too shy to make a lot of friends, too terrible at sports to have nobody laughing at me when I would try out for teams, all that.”

“I feel like you’re selling yourself short,�� Mingyu said sincerely. “So you still go?”

Y/N shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much anymore. Life got busier, you know? But I think about it sometimes. I miss how peaceful it was.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes, “next time you want to chase stars, let me know. I think I have a spot you’d like.”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You’d sit in silence under the stars? No smart ass remarks or treehouse stories?”

“Hey, shut up. I can be quiet,” Mingyu defended, though his grin gave him away. “For a little while, at least. But no promises if I see a shooting star. You’re supposed to make a wish, right? Mine would be to bring alcohol and snacks.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a slice of pizza at last. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, raising his glass for another toast. As their glasses clinked again, their laughter and stories spilled over like the wine in their glasses—easy, unhurried, and warm. Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his wine glass balanced loosely in his hand, and gave Y/N a look that was equal parts playful and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You tell me when you want to go stargazing, and I’ll make it happen. Snacks, drinks, blankets—you name it. I’ll even promise to be quiet for the first ten minutes.”

Y/N smirked, taking a small bite of her pizza. “Ten whole minutes of silence? That might actually be a record for you.”

“Don’t push it,” Mingyu shot back with a laugh. “You’d miss my voice too much.”

“Debatable,” she teased, but her smile lingered, softening the edge of her words.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation weaving between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. Mingyu asked her more about her writing, his questions thoughtful and encouraging, and Y/N found herself sharing more than she expected—her half-formed ideas, her struggles with self-doubt, and her dream of one day publishing a book that might make someone feel the way she did when she opened a favorite story.

“I feel like you’re already halfway there,” Mingyu said, his tone serious now. “You light up when you talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile talking about something.”

She looked down at her glass, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not easy,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Besides, if you ever need a cheerleader, I’m available. Very affordable, too—just pay me in pizza.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves dissolving under his earnest encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you? What’s your big dream?”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Honestly? I think I’m still figuring it out. But I know I want to make people happy, you know? Whether it’s through cooking, making them laugh, or just being there when they need someone. That’s what feels right to me.”

“That’s a pretty great dream,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “And I think you’re already doing it.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Mingyu’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got at least one satisfied customer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re not terrible company, I guess.”

“High praise,” Mingyu teased, raising his glass again. “To not being terrible company.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her laughter mixing with his as they returned to their meal. As the night wore on, the slices slowly disappeared, but the conversation never lost its spark. They lingered long after the plates were cleared, talking about everything from childhood dreams to places they wanted to travel.

Eventually, the waiter discreetly dropped off the check, and Mingyu reached for it without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it,” he said when Y/N protested.

“I could’ve at least split it with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You could have,” Mingyu replied with a cheeky grin. “But then I wouldn’t get to say I treated you on our first official hangout. You can cover the snacks for stargazing—deal?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Deal.”

As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Mingyu turned to her. “So, was I as annoying as you thought I’d be?”

“Annoying? Yes,” Y/N said, her lips twitching in amusement. “But I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It was probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a while.”

“It was,” she admitted, surprised by how much she meant it. “See you tomorrow, persistent coffee guy?”

“Oh, you’ll see me,” he said, winking before turning to head down the street. “Unless I see you first, Mysterious Corner Person.”

Y/N watched him walk away, a warmth settling in her chest. As she started toward home, she couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to their next meeting.

As the dawn broke, the soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the windows of the café, casting a warm hue over everything. Y/N sat at her usual corner spot, absently scrolling through her phone while waiting for her favorite annoying friend. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of light chatter and the clinking of cups. She hadn’t quite managed to shake off the memory of last night—Mingyu's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, and the lingering warmth of their conversation.

Just as she checked her watch to see if Mingyu had been late or not, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell, drawing her attention. In walked Mingyu, a wide grin plastered on his face, walking up to grab two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Y/N’s heart did a little flip; she couldn't help but smile back as he approached her with the casual confidence that always made her stomach flutter.

“I brought you your favorite,” he said, placing the cup in front of her. “Consider this an apology for being too charming last night. I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet or anything.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Y/N chuckle, though she rolled her eyes playfully, masking the warmth tinting her cheeks.

“Too charming, huh? Is that even a thing?” she shot back, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. With every interaction, she found herself drawn deeper into the lighthearted banter they had cultivated. He sat down across from her, his playful nature washing away any remnants of a serious morning.

As days turned into weeks, those spontaneous coffee runs became the highlight of Y/N's mornings. Each day, Mingyu would find a new reason to linger—asking about her weekend plans, recounting strange dreams that had caused him to wake up giggling, or debating the merits of pineapple on pizza. There were moments when their conversations would drift into deeper territory, discussing their aspirations, fears, and the odd twists life threw their way.

Y/N soon discovered that Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane topics feel important. One Tuesday, as they squabbled over the best pizza toppings, he insisted, “Peppers and onions bring out the true flavor of the cheese!” which led to an impromptu debate that had them both laughing until their sides hurt.

She found herself anticipating these morning rituals, a bubble of happiness blossoming in her chest at the mere thought of seeing him. What started as a casual coffee run had morphed into something undeniably special—she began to crave his company more than she cared to admit.

Despite her attempts to play it cool, every shared laugh, every gently lingering gaze exchanged started to intertwine their lives in ways she hadn’t expected. Each day, the corner café felt a little more like a second home, not just because of the coffee, but because of Mingyu’s presence. Occasionally, she’d catch herself daydreaming about what it would be like to invite him over for a pizza night or to share a quiet evening watching movies, a little voice in her head whispering fears of slipping from friendship into something deeper—something beautiful yet terrifying.

But for now, they relished the simplicity—the easy comfort of shared coffee, laughter, and the exhilarating thrill of something unspoken hanging softly between them, waiting for the right moment to blossom.

After weeks of easy laughter and coffee-filled mornings, Mingyu—emboldened by Y/N's growing fondness for their time together—decided it was time to showcase his culinary prowess. He had mentioned his love for cooking during one of their coffee chats, specifically teasing about a past cooking show attempt that had ended in disaster when he mistakenly used salt instead of sugar in a dessert. It was an absolute failure, but the way he recounted it had left Y/N in stitches, and she couldn’t help but encourage him to put that experience behind him.

So it was with a mischievous smile that Mingyu sent her a message inviting her over to his place for a “proper meal.” His confidence was infectious, and Y/N found herself excited at the prospect of spending an evening cooking together, even if she glimpsed a little fear behind her excitement.

That Saturday evening, Y/N arrived at his apartment with a spring in her step, holding a bottle of wine as her contribution to the dinner. Mingyu greeted her at the door, a cute apron tied around his waist, and his hair slightly tousled as if he had been preparing all day. The kitchen already smelled inviting, with the simmering of something savory in the background.

“Welcome to my kitchen.” he declared, flinging open his arms in mock grandeur. “Prepare to be blown away.” Y/N giggled, feeling a playful banter already brewing between them as they stepped into the kitchen.

They started a little unsure, mixing up ingredients and dancing around each other in the small space. Laughter filled the air as he guided her through the preparation of their meal. Chopping vegetables turned into a chopping competition, resulting in some accidentally discarded pieces flying across the countertop. They were both a bit clumsy, but it only added to the charm of the evening.

However, chaos ensued as Y/N intentionally mixed up the sugar and salt while measuring the ingredients for the sauce. As a callback to make fun of Mingyu’s cooking show embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t take it to heart too much.

Mingyu’s face morphed from confusion to pure horror as he tasted the sauce. “What is this? Are you fucking with me?” he exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a burst of laughter erupting between them.

“Hey, I thought we could give you a call back to your days as an aspiring chef. You were just telling me to ‘add seasoning’!” Y/N retorted, her laughter bubbling over.

The kitchen transformed into a battleground of flour and spills as they attempted to clean up the mess, dashing here and there grabbing paper towels and laughing uncontrollably as they dodged flour clouds that seemed intent on sticking to every surface—including themselves. The floor bore witness to a sprinkling of flour footprints leading from sink to counter and back.

“Okay, okay. Clearly, we’re not going to win a Michelin star tonight,” Mingyu chuckled, wiping a hand across his forehead, flour now dusting his cheek.

“Maybe we should just clean up and order takeout? Sorry for fucking up your nice meal” Y/N suggested with a grin, realizing neither of them had even started on the main course yet.

“I have a feeling this was your plan all along, think I’m going to poison you?” He nodded enthusiastically.

“Absolutely.”

They huddled over his phone, browsing menus and sharing a laugh about different food combinations, all the while enjoying the relaxed comfort of each other’s company. As they placed their order, Mingyu playfully bemoaned the “greatest culinary disaster of the century,” and Y/N couldn’t help but tease him about his cooking abilities.

When the food finally arrived, they sat down on the couch, a jumble of takeout containers and mismatched plates, laughter still dancing in the air. They dug in, enjoying their food with a warmth that stemmed not just from the flavors but from the shared experience that had turned their simple dinner into pure chaos, followed by comfort as their legs touched settled into his cozy sofa, which they both pretended not to acknowledge.

In between bites, their conversation flowed easily, the earlier chaos of the kitchen forgotten, only to be replaced by gentle teasing and heartfelt discussions. The evening had not gone as planned, yet in those moments, Y/N felt a closeness to Mingyu that she hadn't fully anticipated and wasn’re sure what it meant.

As they polished off the last of their takeout, they leaned back against the couch, feeling the loosening tension from the day, laughter still bubbling between them. She glanced at him, his face lit up with a satisfied grin, and realized that this was far more memorable than if everything had gone perfectly. The spilled flour and overly salty sauce had become their personal anecdotes, stories to reminisce about, etched into their growing relationship.

And even amid the mess, she felt something shift—this was more than just a casual evening; it was a bond that deepened with every laugh shared and every slight mistake made together. In the cozy warmth of the moment, Y/N found herself contemplating just how right it felt to be here with Mingyu.

“Do you-”

They both said at the same time, their laughter flowing still. Y/n prompted Mingyu to talk first, grabbing the can of sweating beer sitting on his coffee table and taking a swig.

“No, just do you ever think about how crazy it is that we met each other?” Mingyu watched y/n's expression as if she was a television character. “We were strangers a few weeks ago and now here we are, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, a flutter of something electric that made her heart race. Swallowing her sip of beer, she considered his question, the implications of it wrapping around her like a blanket. “It is sort of crazy,” she replied softly, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms as she reflected on their journey. “Just a few weeks ago, we were two random people in a coffee shop, sharing awkward small talk over our drinks.”

Mingyu chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting, causing Y/N to smile at the memory. “Right? I remember how you tried to hide your eye roll when I started rambling about my guilty pleasure shows. You've been way more patient with my quirks than I deserve.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to twist my arm to talk about junk food and reality TV. That’s a gift you offered me,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “But seriously, I don’t know. It just feels almost too easy with you.”

He nodded, the sincerity on his face deepening. “Absolutely. I had this fear that after my cooking show mishap, I’d never cook for anyone ever again. But, somehow, I feel comfortable with you. Like I can be myself—flour-covered and all..

“I get that.” she replied, her heart still racing from the way his eyes searched hers, filled with an openness that was rarely offered. “It’s everything—our late-night talks about nothing and everything, all those moments and I like that I don’t feel pressure to impress you.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he let her words sink in, a smile spreading across his face—a mix of relief and happiness. “I feel the same way. I guess it’s nice to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, flaws and all.”

“I thought you didn’t have any flaws?”

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a gentle gravity settling around them as they shared this moment of vulnerability. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the sacred space between them filled with thoughtful breaths and unspoken words.

Then, suddenly, Mingyu leaned a little closer, his elbow resting on his knee as he caught her gaze with an intensity that made her heart flutter even more. “You know… I think the best part about getting to know you is discovering how we both navigate our own messiness. We’re both a little chaotic in our own ways, and it’s refreshing to find someone else who can embrace that.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Mingyu’s honesty wrapped around her like warmth. She knew that beneath the laughter and playful teasing, he was speaking to something significant happening between them. “It’s like we balance each other out, right? Your zero flaws perfectly complement my complete lack of many. ”

He threw his head back in laughter, and it vibrated through them both like a comforting echo. Touching her thigh out of instinct.

Mingyu’s expression shifted then, his eyes earnest yet playful as he leaned in closer, robes of laughter giving way to something deeper. “Okay, but in all seriousness—what do you think happens next for us? I mean, if we keep this up?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability swirling in her chest. Tilting her head slightly, she studied his face, a thought bubbling to the surface that she hadn’t articulated before. “I guess we keep figuring it out. I know that’s a lame ass answer, but-”

Mingyu’s face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have takeout nights, of course—maybe even attempt cooking again when we’re feeling bold.”

“Yes. But with a solid plan in place this time,” she teased, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. “whatever this is.”

“Whatever this is,” he echoed with a soft smile, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, leaving just enough space for her to lean against him if she wanted to. The gesture lingered in the air, an invitation that made her pulse quicken.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N felt a wave of courage washing over her. She shifted closer, rationally giving way to instinct, and in that moment of intimacy, she let herself lean against him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly.

“And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she murmured softly, feeling a profound shift in their dynamic as she nestled against Mingyu’s side. Warmth enveloped her, not just from his body, but from the genuine connection they had forged. She took her hands to his warm cheeks and brushed off the lingering flour, running her fingers over his soft lips.

Mingyu’s arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and she felt an undeniable sense of belonging in his presence. “You can’t be this close to me and not kiss me.” he replied quietly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the gravity of their shared moment.

As she stared at him in silence for a minute, a smile washed over her face as she leaned in and made a path to his lips with hers instead at the last minute swerving and giving him a kiss on the cheek playfully.

Laughter bubbled between them, lightening the tension that had built in the air. Mingyu looked momentarily surprised, his eyes widening and brows raising in mock disappointment. “Oh, come on. That was a dick move.”

Y/N giggled, the sound of a playful melody that danced around them in the cozy space. “I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was so worth it.” She winked mischievously, enjoying how their moment, which had felt so heavy and charged just seconds before, had shifted into this playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. “You’re so mean.” He feigned frustration, but the warmth of his expression and the sparkle in his eyes told her just how much he enjoyed her whimsy.

Pride swelled within her at his compliment, and her cheeks flushed at the spontaneity of it all. They were sharing this beautiful blend of fun and intimacy—a carefree-ness that made her heart flutter and her stomach twist into knots of anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, still wrapped in the warmth of his presence, contemplating allowing the moment to settle in further.

“Okay, okay… I’ll redeem myself,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a hint of seriousness beneath her earlier teasing. The shift in her tone caught his attention, and his playful expression faded slightly, replaced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache in the best way.

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the boldness wash over her again, surpassing any lingering nerves. “I am,” she assured him, her heart hammering as she leaned in closer this time, matching his gaze as they hovered just inches apart. “I guess we’ve come too far to hold back now, right?”

“Right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with something primal, something that sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her. The air between them felt charged, electric, as if they were daring each other to bridge the final distance.

In one swift movement, she closed the small gap, finally pressing her lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, teetering on the edge of hesitation, but as Mingyu responded—his lips molding to hers with a warmth she'd yearned for.

Time seemed to blur around them as they savored the kiss, allowing the moment to expand, realizing that this was a milestone in their relationship. Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still; she could feel the way he leaned into her, matching her eagerness. Each touch ignited sparks, tossing her into a whirlwind of longing that was both intoxicating and exhilarating.

When they finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead against his, her heart racing from the tenderness that hung in the air between them. Mingyu’s eyes were bright, reflecting the disbelief and joy of their shared moment. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” she asked softly, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Because, I’d say it was mediocre.”

The lightness returned, and Mingyu laughed, the sound lifting her spirits even more. “Shut up, you’re a liar, you were basically begging me for more. ”

“I might need another later, just so you can redeem yourself.”

“I can make that happen, you know.”

They grinned at each other, a shared understanding deepening their connection even further. The world outside felt like an echo, distant and unimportant as they savored this newfound bond, filled with untapped potential and the joy of each other’s company.

“Can you imagine what our friends would say if they knew we spent the night making a mess and then ended with a make-out session?” Mingyu said, his laughter still dancing in the air.

Y/N shook her head, chuckling softly. “Who knows? They might be incredibly jealous we got to have missed out on our “disaster” of an evening. But honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me neither,” he replied, his tone shifting back to sincerity. “But just so you know, I’m claiming the next time we cook together you just sit and watch.”

“And why is that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism, her heart dancing at his enthusiasm.

“So I can look sexy for you in the kitchen and you might kiss me again, obviously.” he declared dramatically.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for his silliness. “Alright, chef. You have yourself a deal. But next time? I’m bringing dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll just have you for dessert.” Mingyu said with a teasing grin, and she felt her cheeks flush once again in delight.

With that playful banter, the rest of the night melted away into easy laughter, light touches, and the thrill of new beginnings. She felt something incredible blooming between them, something beautiful that blended friendship with a newfound romantic spark, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey might take them next.

As they settled back on the couch, Y/N nestled against him once more, content with the knowledge that whatever chaos life threw their way, they would tackle it together—with laughter, love, and perhaps a little less clothes involved.

678 notes · View notes

arvlelt · 10 days ago

Text

crawling back to you.

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - nsfw, mdni 18+, yall are ex fling things, vi is down BADDD, oral (r. recieving), teasing, drunkish sex, angst (?), munch!vi, switch!vi (sub!leaning?), praise, slight overstimulation, slight biting, dirty talk, fluff, lmk if i missed anything.

summary - vi never thought she'd see you again. simply existing in her mind as somebody that she used to know, but there you were, staring at her from outside the ring in disbelief.

w.count - 2.9k+

a/n - haven’t written in a fat minute so i apologize if this is butt. but i’ve been watching arcane and saw how much content it lacked on here so ello :) not rlly proofread

her ear drums were ringing and everything was spinning as they declared vi the winner once again, her fist coming up in the air to show victory.

to say that vi had gone off the wagon was, an understatement to say the least. first, you and vi had stop talking for awhile now, and it seemed like it was finally catching up to vi that she wasn't going to see you again.

she had tried distractions, a pretty girl with blue straight hair, but of course that was never going to be enough to forget the kind of girl you were.

ever since you had gone your separate ways, everything felt like a daze to her. it's not like she did anything different. she fell into the hole of drinking and violence since you left. and as she scanned the room around her, seeing all the cheers, as well as some being fairly disappointed in her opponents loss, she felt as if her eyes were deceiving her when she saw a familiar face in the crowd.

one that she didn't want to see her in this state.

she scoffed and brushed it off, convincing herself it was the alcohol messing with her senses.

you couldn't believe what you were seeing, you weren't going to deny that she only got more attractive to you, but what on earth happened?

back when you and vi were still together she barely sipped on alcohol, and there she was stumbling and fighting in the ring.

you were barely downing your 4th shot before you heard people shouting for the winner, and your curiosity got the best of you, as some part of you was hoping one day you'd bump into her again.

you watched as she stumbled to grab her fair share, she made eye contact with you, but you were sure she didn't believe it was you.

you didn't want to believe it when there was word of a new hot fighter in the ring that had a streak of winning.

it’s not like you kept tabs on her, your curiosity got the best of you when she became the talk of the undercity. and her little ring happened to be located at the same place as your favorite bar.

you made your way through the crowd to get to where she would get out the ring.

you watched her stumble out the ring, "...vi?" oh someone had to have roofied her drink. because why did vi hear the voice of the girl that caused her all this.

her low eyes looked up in the direction of your voice, the people around them were in her field of vision but she could make out your figure in the crowd.

this had happened to vi before, where she would hallucinate you while being extremely intoxicated. and she thought this was another one of those times as she groaned and closed her eyes, hoping the hallucination would go away.

you made your way to her, you didn't know why as you two didn't really set off on the best of terms.

the roars of the crows and the music was messing with vi, and it wasn't until you were in front of her, hands reaching out to maybe cradle her face that she realized it wasn’t one of those times.

vi looked different. black hair, black makeup on her face, and eyes filled with something you couldn't quite define.

your fingers brushed her face, concern evident on your face as vi took you in, "oh, vi. what happened to you?" and vi broke.

she basically leaped into your arms, one arm wrapping around your waist, and the other coming up to cradle the back of your head. yours found themselves around her neck, one hand brushing the back of her nape. and suddenly everything, all the emotions, all the memories, came flooding back into vi.

"are you real?" you could barely make out what she said as you were recovering from her very evident desperation to have you in her arms.

it was very uncharacteristic of her. the last time you two had seen each other, some awful things were said and it ended with vi walking out on you.

but even with how you two had ended, you knew that if you ever saw her again you wouldn't be able to help wanting to help her.

and that's how you ended up at her very messy apartment. well, before you ordered more drinks for yourself as you caught up with vi in the bar. you helped her home and she was very evidently drunk, but that didn't stop her from talking her mind to you.

"'m sorry about everything i said to you. i didn't mean it. i hope you know that, ive missed you so much," her words were slurred as you took her up the stairs of her apartment, your hand gripping her by the waist and the other grabbing her hand that was around your shoulder.

you could feel your heart racing at her words.

your eyes looked at her for a sec, "you're drunk, vi. tell me all this when we're sober, kay?" you continued up the stairs as you could hear vi scoff at you, dragging you a bit as her footing was off.

"just because im drunk doesn't mean shit. i'd still bend you over and eat that up," you could hear the shit-eating grin she had. her vulgar word definitely got to you as you felt the back your ears heating up, the alcohol making you want to just let her have her way with you.

"violet, get the fuck inside, please." your hands gripped her hand a little harder at the thought of that happening, again.

you could hear her drunkenly laugh before listening and making it easier for you to lead her up.

vi stumbled at her door as you watched her open the door, "don't mind the mess, pretty. but i guess you have seen worse," you remembered how messy her room could get.

vi got comfy on her bed, leaning back before sitting back up.

you stepped in and closed the door behind you. there were bottles littered all over the floor, but other than that it was just unorganized. her bed was a pillow with one blanket, "yeah sorry, not much to offer."

you could feel guilt and sadness overwhelming you, is this what she's being going through lately? and for how long? vi didn't seem to notice your weariness as you approached her.

vi was looking down and noticed your feet suddenly in front of her. she looked up at you. "what's up?"

your hands couldn't help themselves as they held her face, "are you okay?"

vi smiled in your hands, "better now that i have you here," vi could see that you weren't convinced, "don't worry 'bout me, sweetheart," one of her hands came up to grab one of your hands, brushing your hand with her thumb before putting it up to her lips and giving it a kiss.

"i've missed you," she mumbled against your skin, causing goosebumps on your skin. she continued kissing along your hand, the other grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer.

you gasped as her kisses were tracing up your arm, as she got closer to your shoulder, her other hand went down to your hip, pulling you on top of her lap, your hands instinctively find themselves on the back of her neck.

vi held back a moan at the feeling of your cunt on top of hers. her being drunk making it feel better than if she was sober.

"vi, you're- you're drunk-, we're drunk, we can't-" you breathlessly let out as you felt her lips trailing up your collarbone. your hands went up to her black locks, pulling it and making her look up at you.

"wanna taste you again," she muttered out, hands busying themselves with feeling you up again. her hands found your hips and your thighs, rubbing on them that had you tightening your legs around her thighs, “i don't care if i'm drunk or not. i mean- unless you do then i'll back off, but, i wanna make you feel good again."

oh she was down bad.

and you couldn’t deny you weren’t as you could feel a warmth growing between your legs, the alcohol making everything spin in a way that had you wanting her more.

you could feel your self control growing thin as you felt her thrusting up into you slightly, the one hand on your hip grounding you down a bit more making you bite your lip before you spoke. "vi, are you sure? i don't wanna make you do something while you're under the influence."

vi suddenly stood up, grabbing you by your ass, standing steadily as if to prove a point of her sobriety. you kicked your feet at the feeling of her touching you again with a slight smile finding it's way to your face.

you never thought you'd find yourself in her arms again, but here you were, tipsy in her arms.

she set you down and looked at you, caressing one side of your face. you melted in her hand, "i've never been more sure than anything. and honestly, i feel sober, i mean, look at you." you felt her eyes trailing down your body, the shorts showing off your legs to her.

her eyes went back up to meet your eyes, "completely up to you, pretty. you have my consent. if not it's totally okay. but..," she trailed off before slowly falling down on her knees, "if you're okay with it, lemme take those off for you."

you felt your breathing get a bit heavier as your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of vi on her knees in front of you, practically waiting to eat your pussy. it filled you with a sense of pride.

you stepped back and sat on her bed, crossing your legs with a smile, "then what're you waiting for?" she was practically running on her knees to you. her fingers hooking around the loops of your shorts, making you uncross your legs with a giggle at her desperation.

vi smiled at the sound of your laugh, her smile faltering and gaping wide open at the sight of you in your lacy underwear.

you caught it and gave a chuckle, "what? you like 'em, baby?" oh vi was going to cry in relief of you calling her that again.

you could sense her submitting to you as she timidly nodded her head. you leaned over to her and grabbed her hands, placing them on your thighs, "don't be shy now, c'mon, touch me.”

you felt her big hands graze your thighs and going up to your hips, messing with the fabric of your underwear. you could feel her sudden hesitation on what to do, suddenly feeling shy under your gaze, “what, baby? you want me to stand up?” you offered with a tilt of your head, grinning when you could see her getting shy.

oh you were enjoying this.

“mhm,” vi muttered, licking her lips as you stood before her, the alcohol seeming to diminish from your bloodstream at the adrenaline you were getting from this.

she took in your figure once more, as you had discarded your shirt in the midst of standing up. eyes shimmering at the sight of you again, “god, you’re just as beautiful as i remember.” you melted at her words, a smile itching on your face.

you watched as she got up on her knees and began leaving kisses on your stomach, making you reel your head back at the feeling of her lips on you.

you took the liberty of taking your bra off and throwing it into a random part of her room, and instantly putting one hand in her black hair. you brushed her hairs back, “wanna make me feel good again? is that it?” vi looked so good in your hands like this.

vi let out a slight whimper at the feeling of your hands in her hair, nodding her head at your question, “thought you were gonna take these off me, no?” you gave her a slight smile as she went back to kissing your stomach, her hands coming up to grip your breasts, giving them both a light squeeze before playing with your nipples.

“‘m nervous,” she admits, quietly. her voice muffled by her kisses leading down to your lower belly as she lowered herself on her knees more.

you let out a chuckle, your hands letting go of her hair before you shimmied off your panties, “if it makes you feel better, i’m definitely wet. your words earlier put a little scenario in my head. made me… remember a few things,” vi’s eyes widened at your boldness as she was now face to face with your pussy, face growing hot at what you could’ve been thinking of.

you lifted a leg and place it on her shoulder, pulling her in closer as she looked up at you through her lashes, “go on,” you licked your lips and nearly wanted to fall back as her fingers spread you slowly, watching as her head disappeared between your legs before you felt her hot breath on your cunt, making you let out a soft sigh.

your sigh turned into a whine as she started to very slowly lick up and down your pussy.

your eyes closed at the pleasure, “mm, fuck, baby,” and vi squeezed her thighs at the sight of you with a leg on her shoulder, face all screwed up in pleasure.

her other hand went behind the leg on her shoulder, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you closer as she began to lick and suck at your clit, making you cry out, “hah— ah, just like that, baby, ooh—“

you felt her tongue swirl down, causing her nose to bump into your clit as her tongue made its way down to your entrance, where she was teasing you slightly, enjoying the view of you clenching around nothing.

you began rocking your hips against her face, knees wanting to give out at the pleasure. she moaned against your pussy, causing vibrations that had your toes curling, “am i doing good?” she kneaded your ass, encouraging you and helping you move against her face.

you nearly want to fall back and just let her at it, “mm— fuck, yes, you’re doing so good violet, such a good girl f'me, aren't you?,” you emphasized your words by rocking more aggressively against her face as the the sounds became more obscene within the room.

violet could cum alone at the sight behold her. her tongue was lapping at your continuous flowing juices, slurping you up like you were last meal.

“mm, love this pussy so much. missed it so much, baby,” she mumbled against you. you moaned and grabbed her hair as she started to tease your entrance with her two thick fingers.

your eyes nearly rolled back as she very suddenly thrust her fingers in you, curling them immediately, her other hand pulling you closer by your ass, her tongue still lapping at your clit, the sounds of her slurping you up only made you wetter.

“i bet you did, look at you, doing so fucking good,” you began rocking your hips in coordination with her fingers inside you, wanting to feel her as deep as she could get.

your knees going weak when vi finds that gummy spot in your walls, very aggressively curling her fingers, watching as your hips spasmed against her tongue, “ooh— fuck, violet, right there, right there!” vi could sense your other leg going weak as it trembled.

she didn’t stop her movements as she used her shoulders to place your struggling leg on it, watching as you relaxed and laid back on the bed, moaning out at the new discovered angle — two legs on either shoulder with her going absolutely crazy in between your legs.

“god, vi, haa—“ you threw your head back as she started pumping her fingers in n out of you at a fast pace, the squelching making the tightness in your belly grow more and more.

“ooh, fuck, ‘m almost there, ‘m almost there, please—,” you could feel her smile, her tongue only lapping faster at your clit.

she stopped her assault on your puffy clit, fingers still pumping into you as her pace increased, enjoying the way you were moving your hips against her fingers.

“c’mon, pretty, cum all over my fingers,” you felt the knot in your belly winding up more as the warmth began spreading throughout your body, causing you to curl your toes at the feeling of her fingers working in you.

vi leaned down and began leaving kisses on your inner thighs, occasionally leaving little kitten licks on your pussy, pushing you to the edge as your legs tensed “right there, right there!”

your moan broke out into a silent scream as vi bit down on your inner thigh, driving you over the edge as your orgasm rippled throughout your body.

“haa— fffffuuckk, ooh, my god,” your legs tightened around her head, locking her in place as she suddenly started to lick on your clit again to ride you through your orgasm, making you ride her face throughout the spasms of please you felt, overstimulating yourself a bit as you shivered at the feeling.

vi could feel how wet she was in her own panties, grinning at the way you suddenly stopped moving, hands falling by your side as your chest heaved up and down.

your head poked up and gave her a smile, legs loosening around her neck as vi licked at her fingers, wiping her face as well.

and god she hopes this isn’t a dream.

cause if it wasn’t, she was surely crawling back to you.

#vi x reader #vi x reader smut #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #wlw smut

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yoonmetogether · 1 month ago

Text

Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x !fem reader genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to mafia/bodyguard au summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet 🥴, insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l ch. 1 play nice l prelude. strangers 1/2 l prelude. strangers 2/2 l ch. 2 l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin prickle every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps.

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection. You observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades.

“Oh, a straight? How nice.” Your head tilts mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter near the door, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, scowls, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!”

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish it, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through?

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back...” He sighs dejectedly. “Fine. See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing.

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz and burn.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, unease pinches your gut as you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits the wall and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting above your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He snaps. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?”

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the wall, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry. He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Sighing, he leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and returns his hand to the wall above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck and you gasp again as he rolls his hips once more while muttering darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.”

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of rethinking things, but then he manhandles you to the side of the closet opposite from the door, and you put out your hands to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he mutters.

Huh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own jeans but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, breath hitching as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your shoulders tense when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?” you manage to croak.

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to back out? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his fingers into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. Then for a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. He pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back up into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A hand slides over your cheek and a pair of fingers gets shoved on your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand rises to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes down to in between your legs. You have to bite down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down harder on the mysterious material to barricade a whimper.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally while you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on plucking the cloth out of your mouth, scrunching it in your palm. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding up your chin and into your mouth to force it open.

“Gonna come,” he grumbles. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, he slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After allowing a moment to accept what just happened, he steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in, fixing his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own with shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly, tone withdrawn.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback.

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him.

The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, and you offer an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, others colleagues, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin.

A motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. All a part of memories now.

A few minutes after the server delivers you a bottle of soju and you take a shot, you head to the bathroom to wash up and finally acknowledge the shame lingering in your appearance. When you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who is the reason for that shame. Your heart pounds abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, unveiling orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some clear liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You prolong your vengeful gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him.

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that.

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head with an amused expression, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury.

“I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends. You made sure your brothers never found out your accident didn't deter you from speed racing. You were just too good and made money off of it that you couldn't give up.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically, snapping you back to the present.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near boarding school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bags. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“Well, I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh. You look over and smile, getting ready to tease him about his appetite but then the bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder, blood stirring with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief that you haven’t been duped.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

The stranger bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but promptly withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. As your heart and mind race, he yanks the utensils with added red out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to push you away and get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana. His face looks radiant in the blurred street lights.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi slides down his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street. It’s not the rain that makes you shiver.

The scent of the storm washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart pounds, but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s a 360, but it’s freeing. And nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the seat and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps confusing you?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights filtered through the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you. And you think that’s why you kissed him.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle smile breaks on his otherwise unreadable expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this.

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

masterlist

taglist: @rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos

@busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

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proseka-headcanons · 10 months ago

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OK SO ABOUT PJSK CAST AS GENERAL;

- So in pjsk, our children ofc have their own parents. Some are nice (godbless Ken Shiraishi), some are not the best but theyre trying, but some are just straight up fuckin assholes (looks at mafumom and harumichi).

- But well, not all parents are perfect are they? so all of pjsk's parents are assholes in some ways just bc. (yes even Ken is somewhat)

- Literally i'm only setting this up for angst

- Ok and like, half of the cast's parents dont approve of their children pursuing music or at least try to make them only do that as a side hustle yknow, instead of actually going pro.

- SO NOW THIS IS WHERE MY HEADCANON STARTS;

> The pjsk cast units all hold concerts/shows (except for n25, but sometimes they perform music live)

> None of the parents ever came to them (except people like Ken, since he's the only responsible adult in this game apparently, and thats a low bar considering who Ken is)

> maybe Minori's mother watched her perform on tv, or Mizuki's parents heard her commotion in their room making music, or smth like that.

> Look i dont read MMJ or L/N stories that much so maybe some of them have nice parents?? im writing this on a whim

> Anyway their parents either never goes or rarely goes, for one reason to another.

> But imagine their reactions, when they finally, finally, decided to make an appearance to their kids' concerts/shows/live;

Imagine Shinei Shinonome, watching his son, who he said cannot pursue music, up there on a live house stage, singing with so much emotions that Shinei can feel it himself. Imagine Harumichi, who goes just to see how "good" his failure of a son is, only to get a fuckin whiplash when he heard his son's powerful singing voice. Imagine Kohane's parents, who always worries about her doing street music at god knows where at ungodly hours, always telling her to just stop, only to gape when they witness Kohane, who used to be so timid, now singing with a voice so loud and so beautiful. And Ken Shiraishi grinning proudly at An and the others bc hey, at this point VBS is his kids.

Imagine Tsukasa's neglectful parents, who never goes to Tsukasa's shows in favor of Saki's concerts, decided to come bc Saki asked them, and can only watch as Tsukasa takes the fuckin stage, like the star he always talks about becoming, and then asked themselves, "what have we miased this past few years?". Imagine Emu's father who never have a very good relationship with his daughter, decided to come to like review WxS performance or smth, only to be surprised when he heard Emu's singing and dancing (Emu's siblings are proud af). Imagine Nene's parents who never thought much of their daughter, one day got an invitation from her, and when they came, they watch in awe as their daughter shows them the reason why she's called the Songstress. Imagine Rui's parents, who cares so deeply about him (i think?) but never goes to his shows, finally has time, and doesn't regret coming as they witness the amazing performance that their son directed.

Imagine Kanade's father, watching N25 live concert on youtube, and slowly, faintly, recalling a familiar soft voice within all the voices who resonates in the live (i think he lost his memories right??? i forgot what happened to Kanade's father). Imagine Mafumom, watching live of her daughter's singing, how much emotion, how heavy the lyrics are, and maybe, just maybe, she for the first time doubted herself a little. Imagine Shinei, who always doubted his daughter, having his jaw dropped bc not only the illustration of the live is gorgeous, his daughter's voice is so filled with emotions that he felt shivers, just like when he heard Akito sang for the first time in a live house. Imagine Mizuki's parentd, who never rlly cared of what Mizuki does as long as she's okay, decided to take a look at her live, only to have their jaws dropped because wow, their daughter's singing is amazing.

- I wanna make scenarios for MMJ and L/N too but i dont read much of their stories 😭

rlly the WxS and N25 also has a little bullshitting bc i dont read all of their stories either. the only scenario im sure would happened is VBS bc i practically read almost all of their event stories, plus the ones in the past that i missed.

- yeah i just want to see pjsk parents seeing how much their children grow and getting a whiplash from it. imagine them reacting to like, all 5 units holding one giant concert. and you can see the contrast, the difference between each unit's parts, but their melody resonates nonetheless.

- also i think i sent an ask about the Shinonomes headcanon but it hasnt been answered? idk if it went through, but i did ask if i can be an unofficial mod there, so once again, can i be unofficial mod Tsukasa? :3

SOBBIBG SCREAMING CRYINH. pjsk parents can suck it tbh but their room for redemption is soooo interesting to me.

#mod minori #proseka headcanons #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #project sekai colorful stage #I'm not tagging all the characters sorry #also this is literally every character so I'll just post it straight away lol

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ryanwritesfanfiction · 5 months ago

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Covet

Doug Davis X Reader

a/n: this is just doug davis yearning; not rlly a great ending :/

ps: im very sorry i havent written much lately, my work schedule has been hectic and I'm starting school soon so I've been a lil frazzled

wc: 1184

It was a Friday night when Doug laid eyes on you for the first time. He was so unfamiliar with the feeling that he had almost thought that he had come down with some kind of ailment.

“Hey, who are we starin’ at” said a voice from across the round table he was sitting at and Doug was brought back to reality, back to the dimly lit bar beside his coworkers. The spring semester had just ended and his fellow educators had decided to go out for drinks to celebrate. Doug wasn’t a drinker so he sipped a diet Coke and tried his hardest to contribute to the conversations. He suddenly felt the gaze of the others and the the conversation stopped.

Doug silently cursed Wade for bringing him suddenly as the center of attention. Doug suddenly found himself desperate to change the subject so he attempted to shift the attention to a different topic.

“Speaking of staring, did you know that 80 percent of the human eye is filled with a jelly-like substance?” The silence persisted and it began to feel more and more awkward every second but it was broken once again this time by a much friendlier voice.

“Who is that Doug, do you know them?” Lucy said curiously. Doug felt heat rise to his face and was suddenly very grateful for the low lights in the bar. “No, why would you say that?” he responded in an almost scared voice, which filled the group with suspicion.

“Well, you have been staring at them since they walked in” chimed in Tracy leaving Doug at a loss for words. Thankfully Lucy changed the subject, detecting the nervousness that Doug developed the more that he was pressed on the matter. For the rest of the night, Doug tried his best to make his staring less noticeable, though deep down he knew that he was doing a terrible job.

As the night continued, more of his coworkers started leaving the bar. They wished each other a good summer but they had paid their tabs and left the bar his friend Lucy tried to encourage him to talk to you to no avail.

Although Doug didn’t drink and hated crowded areas, he found himself going back to the bar every Friday night, at the same table just to get to see you. Every Friday he saw you do the same routine, you would sit at a booth next to a window, and have one, sometimes two, of the same drink and then leave.

He didn’t know what compelled him to engage in this weekly tradition. He never attempted to speak to you, he just watched from a distance. Doug studied you, he found you fascinating, captivating even. He wondered about you all the time. What was your favorite color? What were your interests? He wanted to know everything about you.

Anytime Doug had a subject that he found himself engrossed in, he would try his best to learn everything about that subject and become an expert in it. This feeling had manifested in many other topics, but he had never felt this interest in a person like this. He had spent a fair amount of the school year trying to master the art of conversation but he didn't feel he was fully proficient in the manner yet, so he kept his distance. He was too afraid he would creep you out or that you wouldn’t like him. The longer he kept up this weekly pattern, the more he felt like he wouldn’t have a chance with you. He saw that others would approach you every week and you rejected each of them. There was seemingly no pattern in the rejection, no matter what race, gender, or way of approach, you were simply uninterested in everyone who set their eyes on you.

Weeks passed and so did the summer, and Doug still could not talk to you. On the Friday before school started Doug had once again followed his weekend ritual and went to the bar in hopes of spotting you in your usual spot. All summer you had been so consistent with your schedule week after week and so Doug sat at the same table as always where he could best see you from however this night was different since he had been there for two hours and had still not spotted you. The night continued as a sinking feeling began to crawl its way from the pit of Doug’s stomach until it grew and reached his heart, causing a stinging pain in it. He kept hoping that you would still come until the last call and you weren’t there.

During his walk home, Doug became filled with the most awful feeling of regret. His mind never drifted off of the topic of you. He thought about all the subtle details that made you who you are. The subtle smile that you would have when you got your drink at the bar. The way you glowed when someone made you laugh. Like so many nights, Doug spent much of it thinking of you tonight, but this time it was different not only because you didn’t come to the bar, but because Doug finally realized that whatever chance, if there even was one, that he could have had to approach you, he had wasted. He used so much timing running scenarios through his head trying to figure out the perfect thing to say to you. He wanted so badly for you to notice him, and there was even a part of him that hoped that you might approach him but he knew deep down that would never happen. Realistically, no one as breathtaking as you could ever love someone as weird and awkward as him, but it's not like he would ever get to find out now.

The school year had started and Doug’s colleagues began to notice something was wrong. They sort of carried the sentiment that he was “acting weird but not his usual weird” They often found him staring off into the distance rather than his usual attempts to engage in conversation. Instead of chirping in with interesting science facts, Doug had become much more quiet and reserved.

He had spent so much time thinking about what his life would be like with you that after he had realized that his chance was gone, he grew to resent his current life, as he didn't believe it would ever be worth living if he could not have you in it. He cursed himself for not being brave enough, strong enough, or attractive enough to have you. He knew that it was for the best that he didn't take that risk and pursued you at the bar. Doug had long held hoped that you would come back to the bar but deep down he knew you were likely far gone, as anyone would hope to be in a town like Fort Chicken and for you, he was willing to let go, but he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his life

#leigh whannell #doug davis #cooties 2014 #doug davis x reader #Spotify

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deformable-pet · 6 months ago

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i feel fucking stupid whenever i get rlly into warframe again cuz like its easily the least scummy and manipulative free game out there but that is a REAL LOW BAR and its so time consuming to actually keep up with but it is such a perfect game for putting on rlly loud music for a couple hours and being gently carried over the threshold into an sensation-seeker meditative state by enough damage numbers and particle effect spam that i cant even understand what is actually happening in the video game. i think my perfect experience in the perfect world would be if someone rattled six thousand sets of brilliantly glowing keys over my head for six hours straight and fed me vodka and carolina reaper hot sauce

#Am i just describing a rave

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amphetaminedreamer · 2 years ago

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tips & tricks to ward off cravings when restricting. 🌸

FASTS

drink lots of water and take vitamins if you can, often times your body will crave certain micronutrients that can initiate cravings for other things (chips, fries, burger, etc). make sure you’re supplementing these for healthier options when you’re not fasting so you can see more results

think outside the box, let’s say you’re anemic (like many of us who have chronic ED’s) and are rlly craving a burger or thinking of breaking your fast. CHEW ICE!!! it can be such a lifesaver

depending on how you determine your fasts, drink tea!! if you’re craving something sweet use the tiniest amount of stevia (remember if you go past a certain threshold your body will begin to produce insulin and no longer be considered to be “fasting”

if your electrolytes are low do something abt it!!! i love vitamin water 0, seaweed, and rice cakes, for emergencies. remember anything under 50 cals does not break a fast, make sure that there are 10 or less grams of carbs in it tho

track your fasts down to the minute!! from your exact last bite of food set a clock for your fast, i like to use the Zero app. it helps hold me accountable and encourages me to keep going

find distractions, read a book, talk to a friend, watch tv, go on a walk!

RESTRICTING

back to my first point abt cravings. this is basically my cheat code

if i notice myself craving anything fatty, (burger, pizza, cheese) i opt for healthy fats. my go to is salmon, walnuts, almonds, and olives

for craving salty foods, (chips, fries, etc) I like to opt for roasted seaweed or broccoli.a

and for sweet cravings i’ll reach for a cup of warm tea w/ stevia. i usually like ginger tea bc it debloats very well!

pre plan your meals! know exactly what you plan to eat that day and hold yourself to it! i usually pre plan the sunday of a week or each morning or evening so that i’m making sure i’m getting what my body needs

work out more! once i started exercising it helped me to really understand how many calories i was eating. 1 protein bar becomes one run, an extra scoop of ice cream is a pilates session etc.

you can double check calories if you’re paranoid abt them when logging

every 1g of carbs has 4 cals

1g protein = 4 cals

1g fat = 9 cals

diligently track your calories if that’s something you do, we’ve all binged and been afraid to log calories after, log them anyways. it’s motivation to not do it again

weighing yourself before and after meals can encourage you to eat less

when preparing for a meal drink 12 oz of water first, then eat all vegetables first, then lean proteins, then carbs/ fats, you’ll be able to eat less that way and might not even finish your meal

hope this helps!

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atlaskrr · 1 year ago

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GUESS WHO JUST FINISHED WATCHING THE FNAF MOVIE WITH FRIENDS. ME MFS. I made sure to set my bar very low to not get dissapointed and im sure that helped but it was genuinely good. A solid 8.8/10. LEMME BULLET POINT SOME THOUGHTS (absolutely no order to them). Spoilers below the cut.

i LOVE how they kept mikes last name hidden to keep us wondering is the s was a red herring or not

the whole internal conflict with mac aidyryyfuejd

also the aunt deserved to die she can go fuck herself

the repeated dream sequence RAH

WHEN VANESSA = ELIZABETH WAS REVEALED. WHAT DID I SAY. I WAS RIGHT. (everybody was freaking out)

i wish the springlock scene was as bloody and agressive as in the game but it was fine

the whole theatre freaked out when matpat and cory popped up. BUT THATS JUST A THEORY.

baloon boy was still annoying as FUCK in the movie. was not expecting to see that lil shit

ngl the whole friendship thing worked out pretty well ish

VANESSA IS SO FINE

the scene where they built the fort though was giving TOGETHER WE ARE FNAF. but no yeah it rlly showed how their still just kids.

as soon as the credits started the whole theatre started clapping. VERY AGRESSIVELY (my group may have started it bcs the living tombstone fanatic among us heard the sone)

my group freaked out when we saw 6:00 am at the start

when the springtrap suit came into view we were all like naaah

then he said the line and like- the entire theatre was like HOLY SHIT

i need to get my theorist brain wracking at this

also why was the first security gaurd so memeable

like he got me laughing

also the fact its like foxy has some personal ass grudge being the one always attacking is how it felt when you play the game

i wish we had phone guy :(

and mike afton cause i need my decaying boy

its not perfect but in general im happy

theres a lot of serious topics dealt in it too so thats nice

im so curious on this code eveyone is talking abt cause i left the theatre before that

anw we got it gang. after SO MANY YEARS

#fnaf movie spoilers #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf

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bumfucknowhere · 3 months ago

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Uhhh long post warning. I didn’t mean to write much but then I started doing math and now I have a ridiculously long response

What refinement is your blackcliff? I’ve it’s low refinement, then an r5 white tassel will perform better on Bennett teams (if you one. They’re 3* liyue chest weapons) How do you feel about the current 4 star weapons? Are they good for your account, or do you not need any?

If you do go for homa and are unable to get mavuika or c2 xianyun, will you regret it? Which is more important to you overall?

How much does the second weapon matter to you? Obviously it’s important, as there’s a good chance you’ll get it, but are you willing to risk getting a useless weapon or do you not mind if it means you get the one you want?

I’ll be honest, the possibility that she reruns with capitano is fair, however harbingers have historically come at the end of a region, so if she does rerun with him there’ll be some time to save. That being said, she’s a popular character, so she might come sooner. Obvi these won’t solve your dilemma completely, but they might help a little?

I also want to quickly mention the differences between homa and crimson.

Homas buff scales on the total hp of the character. I’m not sure what your Arles exact build is, but her average hp is about 18-20k. With homas increase, I’ll assume 22k total hp. That gives her about 176 atk. If she’s under 50% hp, then you’ll get 396 atk instead, which is nice but means you’ll have to run her with a shielder. Because bursting means ending your rotation early, it should only rlly be a panic button, and if your hp is lower then you’ll need to use it more often. Overall: assuming 22k hp < 50%, lvl90 staff of homa gives 1006 atk, 20% hp and 66.2 crit dmg.

Crimson gives an additional 25% of max hp as bond of life (bol), so assuming she has ~19k, it’ll give you an additional 4750

Assuiming you waited 5s after casting your skill, arle has about 24700 bol by default, upping it to 29450. Think of this part of her weapon skill as giving you a full bar of bond of life instead of a ~4/5 full one. She also gets a 12% dmg increase by default, and an additional 24% dmg increase if she has a bol that’s more than 30% of her max hp- which will be ~5700 bol, meaning that this will be active for most of her hits. Overall, assuming you have bol > 30% of hp, crimson moon gives arlecchino 36 dmg%, 12% bond of life, 674 atk and 22.1 crit rate.

The fact that it gives so many useful stats is one of the things that make it a lot better than homa, as dmg% and bol act as seperate damage multipliers while atk is just one.

That being said, how much better crimson is over homa depends on your team. For example, if you’re playing her with Bennett, homa’s atk means less. If you’re playing her with anemo or xilonen, then crimsons dmg% means less. Overall, homa has the smallest gap in non Bennett teams, such as chevruese double-electro overload teams, double hydro vape teams with Zhongli or anemo and teams & builds that give a lot of dmg% (for example, whimsy set + kazu + xilonen gives so much dmg% that you start to worry about diminishing returns)

Obviously, in any team where you have atk buffs, the gap between homa and crimson widens (teams with Bennett, chevruese, pyro synergy, xianyun, the noblesse set, etc) that being said, I might have some crimson bias as I managed to walk away from the first banner with no crimson moon and two useless 5* weapons and desperately want it. I also want to mention that all the math was done on a noisy bus with my phone calc, so it’s not unlikely that I missed something.

All this to say (and this is saying so so much I’m so sorry) which weapon is better to pull… is complicated, and all my maths has solved nothing concretely! Regardless, hopefully this helped your decision?

Wishing advice

I'm f2p and currently have 160 wishes saved*. My goals are to get Mavuika, c2 Xianyun (currently at c0), and eventually Capitano when he releases. Right now though, I know Mavuika will likely release in 5.3 and I know this will probably be the lantern rite patch, which means Xianyun has a good chance of getting her first rerun during this patch too.

However, I also want to get a better weapon for my Arlecchino. She's using a blackcliff pole and I want to get either her sig weapon or a staff of homa. I know her sig weapon is technically her best, but crit dmg is so appealing lol

Pros for staff of homa:

It's running with Nahida's weapon so if I lose I can at least use the loss on Nahida (who is built fine but it couldn't hurt to upgrade her)

Crit dmg go brrr

Cons for staff of homa:

I will only have 1 patch to rebuild the funds for Mavuika (and then an additional half patch to save for c2 Xianyun if she runs in phase 2)

It's technically not her best in slot (the skill isn't particularly beneficial for Arlecchino it's just a really good stat stick)

Pros for sig weapon:

It's her best in slot

I will have plenty of funds for Mavuika and c2 Xianyun

Cons for sig weapon:

Don't know what it will run with (could be a bad weapon like Baizhu's donut)

They could run the harbingers together and then I might have to forgo the weapon in order to get capitano, and then I end up with zero weapons for Arlecchino

(Basically all the circumstances around her sig weapon are very unknown)

*I have used the interactive map to clear my world of chests and I have no more quests left to do. The only way for me to gain primos is through dailies, limited events, the abyss/theatre, and whatever new map expansion we get between now at 5.3

#thank you for coming to my ted talk ass reply #I’m so sorry this is so much #I hope this helps?#idk man I was on the bus and then I blinked and huzzah #hundreds of words on the pros and cons of homa vs crimson #I fear I may have autismed too close the sun sun here but oh well #genshin impact #arlecchino

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cutemeat · 3 years ago

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no look first of all the fact that they FORGOT abt the gang recycles their trash and pitched a similar episode in itself is fucking Funny

but ALSO... Recycles Their Trash is different from what they were pitching cuz that episode is like a combination of various other episodes and schemes all mashed together... i actually think an episode thats like. just them re-doing a season one scheme almost exactly the same without even realizing it would be great LMAO

#see what i want more specifically is like...#at the beginning half of the ep you think theyre gonna be doing a whole new scheme cuz the set up seems like its whole own other thing #but then its litrlly just them doing the gay bar scheme all over again n visually its nearly identical LMAO #but thing is the dialogue has to be different so the gang doesnt realize what theyre doing is the same thing...#cuz the dialogue is what usually clues them in that theyre repeating smth theyve done already...#and esp in Recycles Their Trash dee is keyed in from the start bc they just repeat similar jokes n dialogue... gotta just do visual ref #so the joke is just for us the audience gettin to see it #WHAT line could possibly replace 'boys are out tonight huh!?' tho... thats the only thing. where do u go from that #its basically just boggs reboot but instead of 'for women' its... this #they do an exploitative scheme but bc theyre not using the wrong language they think theyre doin smth new #also decent enough commentary on media/culture rn blahblahblah #i have low standards i just think itd be funny cuz tbh i rlly liked the boggs reboot ep too lol #parker texts

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cultsykes-archive · 6 years ago

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fuck hypebeast culture. fuck it all. it’s a shitty byproduct of capitalism and tries to enforce the idea that if it cost a lot of money then it’s good and you’re good. and it’s shit. rip n dip is the only good hypebeast clothing brand.

#rip n dip is also setting the bar rlly low #they still overprice all of their clothes to like. idk 50x their actual value (im not actually good at math but)#but at least it's not grossly overpriced like supreme or gucci #and also. rip n dip's clothes actually dont look like total shit.#like. i wouldnt be ashamed if i walked out in public wearing a rip n dip shirt or smth #supreme looks like shit. gucci looks like shit. balenciaga looks like shit. champion looks like shit.#all of it is garbage except rip n dip.#rip n dip gets a soft pass in my book but theyre still kinda on thin ice.#end weird unprompted rant #shut ur mouth oli

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certifiedchillona · 7 years ago

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...

#if you support that abusive homophobic ass boy #block me #im so fucking tired of seeing people say ‘i liked his music but i dont support what he did’#or saying no one deserves to die because quite frankly #some people do deserve to die #and why is it that when your idols say dumb shit yall rlly dont hold them accountable #MEN NEED TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR WHAT THEY DO #IVE SEEN SO MANY CHRISTIAN YU AND DEAN FANS LITERALLY BABYING THEM #they did something wrong!!!! acknowledge that!!!!!#so many people are like ‘aww its okay baby you shouldnt have to apologize you didnt do anything wrong’#and christian saying he doesnt like someone dying at the age of 20 and that he had time to change if he was given the time like no!!#stop waiting for men to change #stop praising them hoping that the potential you paint them to have is gonna be recognized and he is gonna change #like what the fuck????#both dean and christian were able to overlook his actions enough to ‘respectfully mourn’ his death #implying they STILL RESPECTED HIM #why the fuck is the bar set so low for men that GROWN MEN are treated like innocent children who spilled milk #and im really upset that the comment christian liked said that the abuse was a publicity stunt like #THAT GIRL WAS BEATEN TILL SHE WAS BLIND #SHE IS LEGIT ASKING FOR MONEY TO HELP THE EYE SHE LOST SIGHT IN #AND YALL ARE OUT HERE SAYING ‘he couldve changed he was working on it 😥’#like fuck off #i wanna see them have the same energy with all these young kids dying at the hands of police and the goverment #i wanna see people say that young black people who were killed didnt deserve to die and that theyre worth something bc they are #they are mosr certainly worth more than thay piece of shit #i wanna see them be angry and use their fame and platform to inform people about problem with youth commiting suicide in their own country #rant #tw: abuse #tw: suicide

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quokkacore · 3 years ago

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crawling back to you | s.jn (m)

minors dni with this post

summary: the last time you and johnny saw each other, it didn’t end well. what happens now, when you show up and try to let him go, even if you don’t want to?

pairing: stripper!johnny x mobboss!reader

genre: SO much angst, smut, fwb-to-lovers, stripper!au, mafia!au

warnings: taeyong sweetie i am SO sorry, language, alcohol consumption, sexual content, mentions of murder and mob/gang related violence, implied bisexual reader (could also be interpreted as pansexual whichever one u want rlly), reader has commitment issues and issues expressing her emotions, both johnny and reader are implied to be switches and switch dynamics often but here johnny is domming (sorta), at one point johnny calls reader a bitch (and not in a fun kinky way), they’re both low-key assholes (aka not the Healthiest of Relationships), johnny brushes y/n off, dubious consent if you squint?, safe-wording (they still kind of have sex after they’ve talked through it so regardless of the safe word it’s consensual), degradation, non-penetrative sex, praise kink, nipple play, biting, scratching, minor exhibitionism???, cunnilingus, cumplay, overstimulation

word count: 6.7k

song recs: j balvin & bad bunny - la canción // nathy peluso - mafiosa // nathy peluso - business woman // nathy peluso - delito // kali uchis - aguardiente y limón // kali uchis - fue mejor

a/n: happy belated valentines day! i know i’ve been inconsistent with posting but i promise i’m trying to finish all of the fics i have overdue. hopefully this is a start.

masterlist

The club was louder than you remembered. Yes, you remembered the thumping bass, the lights constantly flashing on your face. But everything seemed different somehow.

Maybe that was because you were the one that was different.

The second Taeyong saw you in the crowd, he ran up to you, only to be blocked by your two bodyguards. You waved them off almost immediately, knowing Taeyong would never want to harm one of his highest paying clients.

“Miss L/N,” He hummed, “You’re back! We were wondering when you’d return.”

“I’ve been away,” You replied, not meeting his enthusiasm, “Business trip. A long one. I’m glad to be back. Who’s dancing tonight?”

“Ten is up on the main stage right now. After that, Seulgi and Irene are performing together, then, uh, let me think…” A sly grin spread across his face, “Johnny. He’s the main event tonight.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Private rooms are still the same as always, right?”

Taeyong grinned. “Oh, they’ve gone up… a little, but not too much. You’ll just have to choose quickly. You know how fast they go, especially with the lineup we have tonight. I can have one set up for you, you just let me know.”

You nodded, face stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Not saying another word, you stalked off toward the bar. The bartender—Jaehyun—seemed to eye you with curiosity. “It’s been a long time since I saw you around here,” He said, speaking over the music. The song was slow yet sensual, and you sat down, facing the stage, leaning back against the bar.”

“I had issues to tend to,” You answered, “Can I just get some scotch?”

He nodded. “On it,” He answered.

You watched the dancer—Ten—up on stage. His movements were graceful, feline. Your eyes followed his every movement, wondering deep down what the vast swathes of his oiled-up skin tasted like.

This is what you liked about this club, The Muse. Despite it being a strip club, you found it more tasteful than some of the other ones around the city. You supposed that some people might find loud, bass-filled strip clubs with ripped men twerking in jockstraps or excessively humping the stage to be extremely appealing, but it wasn’t quite your thing.

You preferred toned-down, restrained yet sensual. Classier wasn’t quite the word, nor was it more conservative—classy implied that the other type of strip clubs were devoid of class, when you knew both were the same job, just different styles. And the words strip clubs and conservative belonged nowhere in the same sentence, unless the words are not at all were in between.

So you settled for different. You enjoyed coming to The Muse because the music wasn’t too loud, the dancing was teasingly seductive, and the alcohol was decent, and there was no particular look or gender to any of their dancers. Ten was lithe, androgynous. You knew of at least one dancer who was of a thicker build, that danced here on Thursdays and was one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen.

And then there was Johnny. As you watched Ten wrap up his number, and Jaehyun handed you your scotch, your mind drifted to your… favorite dancer.

Tall, well-built, with dark, alluring eyes. His dancing and his gaze were an absolutely lethal mix. In your time frequenting The Muse, you’d let many dancers into your bed—some out of genuine mutual interest, most because you’d offered a hefty price.

But Johnny wasn’t drawn in by the money—not completely. He was drawn in by the mystery of you. Yes, initially you’d lured him in with the promise of a hefty sum of money in his bank account. But he kept coming back. And for almost a year, you let him. You wanted him to.

He learned your habits, what made you tick, what made you go crazy in bed. You learned how he’d come to be involved in all of this: he’d needed some extra cash during college, and quickly learned he didn’t want to be an accountant, but that his true passion was dancing, and that he’d actually managed to get his bachelor’s—just in case, he’d told you—but this was where he wanted to be. That he loved all of this: the money, the attention on him, the rush of adrenaline he got every time he got onto that stage. And he loved a power struggle.

The two girls, Seulgi and Irene, were hypnotic. They seemed to entrance not only the audience, but each other as well. You’d fallen into bed with Seulgi once—you knew the power she had. Irene was also a force to be reckoned with, she was a siren. They held onto each other's waists and swiveled their hips, gaze moving between each other and the audience. Not only was there one siren, but two—and all of the people watching were drifting dangerously close to the rocks.

Their number went on, and you nursed your scotch. Throat and chest burning, but not for the same reason. As much as you enjoyed watching the two girls caress each other and dance around the stage and the pole, your heart and mind were elsewhere.

The last time you’d seen Johnny, actually. That’s where you were. Three months ago.

His head was resting in the crook of your neck. The two of you were panting, coming down from a mutual peak of ecstasy. One of his hands was cradling your neck, the other around your waist.

“Someone was eager,” He mumbled, and you huffed and slapped his shoulder, but there was no real malice in it.

“You act as if you didn’t call me mommy last time we did this,” You said into his hair. He laughed softly, and pressed a kiss to your collarbone. The silence was filled with the sound of his soft breathing, until he broke it again.

“I’ve been thinking,” He murmured, lifting his head to look at you. In the dark, you could make out most of his features, but only so much.

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I know… I know you don’t like commitment. You’ve told me a million times. I just… Y/N, I really like you.”

You squirmed beneath him, looking off to the side. “Johnny…”

“I know, I know. Just please listen to me. We don’t have to call this anything. Not if you want. I just want to know that you’re not out there with anyone else. You don’t have to be mine, necessarily… Just don’t be anyone else’s.”

Your hands tried to move him off of you, but his hands came up to grasp yours. You sighed.

“You know why I can’t do that, Johnny.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “You could come to me. I would never go to you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.”

Again, you tried to push him off. This time, when you tugged at his hands, he let go and sat up. “You would resent me for that. What about when you need someone? I couldn’t do that to you. You don’t deserve that.”

He shook his head. When you tried to touch his face, he pushed your hand away. “It’s not about what I deserve. You think I don’t know that me willing to ask for so little is pathetic? I know I deserve better. But that’s not what I want.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “And just what is it that you want, Johnny?” Your voice was hoarse.

Finally, he looked at you. Having sat up, his face caught some of the streetlights from the outside. In the dim light, he looked so pained. “I want you, Y/N. I want us.”

You clenched your jaw. When you spoke, your voice was barely a whisper. “I want that too.”

His eyes lit up, but then you opened your mouth. “But it’s not something I can give you. Not without putting you in danger.”

“I don’t care about the danger,” He argued, voice suddenly louder, “I’m not a kid. I’m a big boy, okay? I know how to take care of myself.”

You pressed a palm to your forehead, looking at your lap.

“My mother,” You said, “Was killed by a car bomb when I was a little girl. All because my dad refused to let some gang of kids deal their drugs on his turf. I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself. But there are some things that are out of your control. Yes, what I helped build is powerful. But it’s fragile, and I’m not untouchable. The people who I care about, even more so. Which is why I don’t like to care about anyone.”

He didn’t answer. You looked up at him. He was staring at the bedroom door, and you felt your heart clench.

“You’re the first person I’ve truly cared about in a long time, Johnny. Which is why I can’t put you in danger. I refuse to do it.”

Johnny’s hands clenched into fists, before standing. He started pulling his clothes on, without saying anything, or even looking at you. You stood, sensing the waves of anger rolling off of him. You pulled on your shirt and your underwear haphazardly, ignoring Johnny’s cum trickling down the inside of your leg.

“Johnny.”

He didn’t answer, pulling on his shirt, before reaching for his jacket. You sighed, trying to reach for his shoulder.

“Johnny, please—”

“Save it!” He snapped, slapping your hand away. “I’m tired of this, Y/N. I’ve given all of myself to you. I’ve laid it out bare, and you don’t even care. You’re the coldest woman I’ve ever fucking met.”

You took a step back. “I don’t care? Of course I care, Johnny. That’s why I’m doing this. I would love to be with you. But the syndicate is growing more and more fragile by the day. I’m trying to hold onto control, but there’s only so much I can do. And if it becomes weak enough? I have a long list of enemies who would love to hurt me, who know how this game works. They know that the closest way to hurt me without touching me directly is to go after the people I—the people I care about.”

Following him into your living room, you gnawed on your lip. “I’m not going to watch you get hurt, or even worse, get killed—I would never forgive myself if they touched you—”

He whirled on you. “Jesus, Y/N, what’s it going to take for you to realize that I don’t care about being in danger? I could get blown up tomorrow and I’d be the happiest man on Earth if you would just let me in—”

“Don’t talk like that,” You snapped, “Why would you even say something so horrible—?”

“Because I’m in love with you, okay!?”

Johnny’s eyes widened immediately, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water. Your mouth went dry, and your heart began to race.

He took your lack of response as a response itself. He shook his head, scoffing. “And of course you’re not even going to say it back,” He muttered, more to himself, “Even though I know you feel the same way.”

Heading for the door, you realized what was happening. “Johnny, wait—don’t go—”

“No.” Johnny shook his head, pulling his shoes on. He reached for the door handle, before turning to give you one last nasty look. “I’m not going to spend another second with you, you—you fucking cold-ass heartless bitch.”

You stumbled back as though you’d been punched, face falling. And a few seconds later, your door slammed shut, the sound so loud it made your ears ring.

As the two girls launched into another song, you stared down at the pieces of ice swirling around your glass. When you looked up and around the place, among the business men and waiters and waitresses attending to them, you saw Taeyong, watching the girls as if studying for scrutiny. You pushed yourself off of the bar and walked toward him, drink still in hand.

I must be insane, you thought to yourself, before downing the rest of the scotch. You winced and your throat burned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Taeyong without the extra push.

“I was wondering when you’d come over,” He said with a knowing smile. Your face remained straight.

“Does Johnny still have any available slots tonight?” You asked. Taeyong thought for a second, before nodding.

“He has one at around 12:30,” He answered, nodding. “I could squeeze you in, if you’d like.”

Pulling out your checkbook, you wrote down the number he said, internally rolling your eyes at the number of zeroes Taeyong had you write down. Lee Taeyong, you thought, you stingy motherfucker.

When he had it in his hands, he grinned as if he were a little girl getting a pony for her birthday. “I’ll have someone come and get you when it’s time.”

You nodded, before returning to the bar. Jaehyun eyed you curiously. “Whose slot did you get?”

“One of Johnny’s,” You mumbled, “Can I get some more scotch?”

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow, before nodding. As he refilled your glass, he told you, “He’s not happy with you, you know that, right?”

For a moment, you were confused as to how Jaehyun knew—but then you remembered that Johnny had told you they were good friends. Finally, you nodded. “I’m not very happy with myself, either. Which is why I came here to apologize and tell him goodbye.”

“You’re finally making s—wait, what?”

Shrugging, you took back the glass. “I made a mistake letting him back in so many times. It wasn’t good for either of us. I hurt him, really badly. And I don’t want to put him through it anymore. He deserves better.”

Jaehyun didn’t answer, not for a while. He was cleaning some glasses, and went on to serve another man on the other side of the bar. The entire time your eyes remained trained on Seulgi and Irene, silently wondering if it would be a good idea to see what Irene had to offer the next time you came back here.

If you ever came back here. After tonight, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to face Johnny ever again.

Deep down, you felt pathetic. You’d killed countless men, by your own hands and by giving the order. Y/N L/N, ruler of what had once been your father’s empire—the L/N crime syndicate. You were supposed to be fearless, ruthless. Cold.

As far as Johnny was concerned, you were only one of those things. Maybe two, if you considered the semantics between being a cold person and a ruthless person. But fearless?

You had half a mind to bolt out of the place as the two girls finished their routine. They were meant with thunderous applause, bills being thrown at them and the occasional whistle. Deep down you knew you had to stay—you’d already paid Taeyong, closure would be the best thing for the both of you, the sooner you said goodbye to Johnny the sooner he could work through all the hurt you’d put him through and eventually move on.

But that didn’t help the sensation of your heart in your throat as the DJ thanked the girls for their routine and started to talk about the next performer. You couldn’t catch any of what he was saying, too busy downing your scotch in record time to ease your nerves. What you were able to catch were stray words here and there—“seductive” and “powerful”.

As he finally introduced the next dancer, the lights dimmed, turning the lights of the club a bluish purple. And then, he emerged from behind the curtain.

God, he looked just as beautiful as the last time you’d seen him, although the last time he’d been simmering with rage. Here, he was almost serpentine—tempting, calm but ready to strike. His movements were deliberate, walking towards the pole as though he knew that this was what he was made to do. He was dressed only in skintight shorts that hid nothing.

And as the music started, a deeper feminine voice crooning words in Spanish atop a slow, rhythmic beat, you recognized that this likely was what he’d been put on this planet to do. He spun around the pole like he owned it, wrapping one of his legs around it and throwing his head back.

This should be used for scientific endeavor, you mused to yourself, to prove that we came from stardust and the cosmos, because no earthly being could ever be as beautiful, as graceful as him doing this.

“You haven’t learned your lesson, apparently,” Jaehyun said finally, causing you to jump as you snapped out of your trance. Turning to face him, you shook your head in confusion.

“What?”

“He told me what he told you. It’s not about what he deserves. As his friend, I don’t want to see him curled up with a mob boss, and definitely not one like you because honestly? You’re right, he does deserve better. But he’s willing to risk it all to be with you. Are you really going to throw that away? When’s the next time you’ll find someone willing to do that for you?”

“I don’t intend on finding out,” You answered, “Because I’m not letting it happen again.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Jaehyun countered, “You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but you’re still human. You can’t hold people at arm’s length forever. Even if you let Johnny go, it’s bound to happen again. Aren’t you lonely? Don’t you ever want someone?”

You didn’t answer, but rather looked down at your glass. It was empty again. For a second, you considered asking Jaehyun for another refill, but decided against it. You needed to be as sober as possible to talk to Johnny, and you’d already had a considerable amount. Yes, you felt fine enough, but you knew that soon you’d be feeling the effects of it soon.

“Think about it before you talk to him.” Jaehyun leaned back against the bar. “He really cares about you, Y/N. I haven’t seen him care about anyone like this in a really long time.”

He sauntered off, probably to attend to another client, and you were left sitting there, watching Johnny. You were almost grateful he hadn’t noticed you. Until he spotted you you still had an out.

Of course, the second you thought that, Johnny let go of the pole, standing in front of it. For a second, he bent over, before flipping back up, reachin up to grip the pole and flip his hair back. All in your direction. His eyes, to anyone else, gave away nothing. But this was the man you’d spent close to a year memorizing, committing every detail to memory. You knew even halfway across the room, you saw the spark of recognition in his gaze a second after he spotted you. The hesitation before his next move was more obvious, and you forced yourself to not look away, to not let your expression change, lest you give away your emotions.

What seemed like an eternity later, he tore his eyes from yours, continuing his routine. Deep down, you felt grateful that he had Your heart seemingly refused to settle in your chest, your legs suddenly felt heavier. As he kneeled, pole between his legs, and rolled his hips slowly, purposefully, you felt your face warm. You swallowed.

You’d found out what those hips could do, from above and below. Memories of the two of you flowed through your mind. A few moments later, he looked at you again. His eyes were dark, brows turned downward. For a second you thought he was angry.

Then your eyes trailed down, raking over planes of muscle you could practically taste. You swallowed when you realized the tent in his shorts. You weren’t the only one to realize it, the volume of the chatter in the room rising, bills flying at the stage. And of course, because he was the snake and you were Eve, he lifted his hand, using two fingers to draw a line from his neck, to his sternum, to his stomach, before finally gripping his clothed hard-on, all while staring at you.

The moment lasted less than five seconds, but felt like an eternity. For that briefest forever, all the other people in the room, all of your duties, and everything that had happened the last time you’d seen each other ceased to exist. His sole purpose was to dance for you, to lead you into temptation.

For the rest of his routine, you sat there, still as a statue, eyes trained on him. Of course, he couldn’t just pay attention to you—there was a slew of clientele here tonight. He needed to do his best to keep them all entertained, to keep the money coming in. But every now and then, his eyes would meet yours.

And every time, it became a battle of dominance, just like every single time you’d lain with him. Sometimes, all of the sensations, the guilt, the sadness, the shame and burning desire became too much to handle, and you simply had to look away. But other times, you’d hold on just long enough for him to have to move on in his number, to rip his eyes off of yours and eye-fuck the next person whose eyes were on him.

During that time, you watched as he let businessmen run their hands down his chest, like you’d done before. You watched as his hand brushed up a woman’s arm, brushing her neck as she burned bright red, and you recalled the times you’d submitted to him, letting his grip tighten around your windpipe.

It felt wrong, the anger simmering in your chest. You knew the jealousy swimming in your gut was misplaced, and was rich coming from you. He wasn’t yours. You didn’t want him to be, not for his sake.

Oh, but you did, because you were so selfish it was laughable. You wanted to hold him in your clutches and keep everyone away, regardless of their intentions. You knew it wasn’t healthy, even if the two of you were on good terms. But this was how you were. You’d grown up wanting for nothing, getting everything you’d ever wanted at the drop of a hat. Fully well, you could acknowledge: you were spoiled, you were selfish, these weren’t good qualities. And here you were, about to throw a tantrum over the one thing you’d convinced yourself you should never have.

Johnny.

By the time he was done, two songs later, you’d broken out into a sweat, underneath your silk button up and dress pants. You were having trouble breathing evenly. And until Taeyong came to get you, you remained silent, mulling over your words, preparing the speech you’d given him. The entire time, Jaehyun’s words, as well as Johnny’s, echoed in your head. It was almost as if they were fighting back. You only spoke when Jaehyun came around to offer you another drink, and you’d refused.

Now, Taeyong was whisking you away to a door that led backstage. In the back of your head, you felt kind of sleepy. But you knew where you were going, what you needed to do.

You sat in the room for a few minutes, alone. There was a singular round couch, some alcohol bottles on an open display, and a pole in the middle of the room. The only light was a neon green light behind you. You were bouncing your knee anxiously when you heard the door open, and you turned just in time to hear him speak.

“Look who’s finally back.” He didn’t sound particularly happy. Your chest ached, but you couldn’t blame him.

“Johnny,” You breathed as he came closer. He leaned back against the pole, crossing his arms. He was dressed in a black silk robe, revealing only below his knees and some skin on his chest.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” He said, looking down at you, “What brings you here now?”

You sighed. “I wanted to come sooner, to talk to you. Not immediately of course, I wanted to give you time. But a few weeks after some… things happened with a partner overseas. I had to fly in to get it settled personally. Too complicated to explain now. I only got back two days ago.”

He nodded, but his face remained unchanged. “So you want to just talk, hm? You don’t want to get your money’s worth, here?”

Swallowing, you hesitated to answer. “I mean—I’d rather just—”

He shook his head. “No, no. I saw the check you wrote Taeyong—now there is a man who drives a hard bargain,” He said, chuckling, “I’ll give you a show. And if there’s time left over, then we can talk.”

Your heart sank in your chest. He wasn’t even giving you a chance. Vaguely, you wondered if you even deserved one. He sauntered over to the bar, picking up a remote and pressing some buttons. Music began playing, and you recognized the same singer from the first song he’d played earlier.

It felt like a crime that you weren’t able to fully appreciate Johnny’s dancing. Alone, for your eyes only, he was even more tempting. Throwing his head back, rarely breaking eye contact, running his hands up and down his body, contorting his statuesque frame as it spun along the pole so that his legs were spread, showing off the definition of his thighs.

You watched with burning eyes—but you couldn’t be sure if that was from your lack of blinking or a faint desire to cry. Your throat was dry, and in the pit of your stomach, an unbridled lust settled heavily. The cocktail of emotions was too overwhelming for you to fully immerse yourself, and you were all too aware of the ticking clock. You’d paid for a twenty minute slot, because you weren’t sure if there’d be enough time to talk about this fully.

And yet, here you were, seven minutes in, and you were getting antsy, restless in your seat. It wasn’t until Johnny got off the pole, and kneeled on the other side of the couch, that you started to wonder what was going on here.

“Johnny,” You murmured hoarsely, “Can I please just—”

“C’mon, baby,” He said, resting on his hands. He began to crawl toward you—a sick mirror of all of the times you’d gotten him to submit, “It’s been a while since we had fun together, you’n me. Don’t you wanna do this again? Don’t you miss it—miss me?”

“I—Of course I do. But I need to just get some things off my chest—”

“Off your chest?” He was in front of you now, and you leaned away. Still, he crawled forward, leaving you resting on your elbows. He smirked, face inches away from yours. You wanted him so badly, core burning, your mind begging you to just lean forward. Suddenly, what you wanted to talk about seemed far away. You’d missed him so much, spent so many nights trying to replicate how he’d made you feel.

And now here he was, offering you that sensation again.

He tugged lightly on your collar.

“I can think of a few things I wanna get off your chest.”

His lips felt bruising, almost violent on yours. He had you pinned down on the couch almost immediately, unbuttoning your shirt. Soon enough, it was thrown to the side, and your bra followed soon. His mouth trailed itself down to your neck, and then your chest, teasing just above one of your nipples.

“Johnny—”

“Shh, shh,” He hushed against your skin, “Let me just do this, hmm?”

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tugging gently on it with his teeth. You gasped sharply, arching your back up against him. Your hands carded through his hair, bringing your legs around his hips. Your hips slotted against his, and when you lifted your hips, he sighed against your chest. His cock, still covered by the shorts, was already back to the hardness you’d seen on the stage. The friction, combined with his mouth suckling on your chest, made you throw your head back, panting quietly.

Your hands reached for the robe’s belt, untying it haphazardly and sliding the fabric off to reveal his shoulders and chest. “Johnny, I—”

He pressed his lips to yours again, and you realized with a start: he was trying to keep you from talking.

“Don’t say anything, baby,” He whispered into your ear, voice sickly sweet, “After all, you just want me to fuck you and then leave without anything else, yeah? That’s all this is, right?”

Your eyes met his, and you realized just how cruel he was being, trying to give you a taste of your own medicine. Maybe this was how he felt, but despite all the mistakes you’d made, you knew that it had never been like this. This was a bastardization, a mockery of everything the two of you had been through. Despite all of this, the pain in your chest and the clenching of your jaw, you didn’t let up in the movement of your hips.

“That’s not what this has been and you know it,” You snapped, grabbing his face, “Don’t be a dick about it, Johnny. If you want me to fuck off, just tell me and I will.”

His eyes seemed to burn into your soul. “What if I don’t want you to fuck off? What if I just want you to fuck me, huh?”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” You said, “I have half a mind to punch you in the face right now.”

“And yet, you’re still grinding on my cock like a whore,” He pointed out, pressing a kiss to your jawline.

“Dammit, Johnny, I’m trying to—mmh!”

When he pressed his lips against yours again, he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, and you found it hard to resist the temptation of it all. But your body felt like it was burning, with lust, with shame, with anger, with guilt, with sadness.

You don’t know where it came from. The onslaught of emotions you’d been trying to push down, every single crack you’d tried to seal up. It all came crashing down in an avalanche that had you squirming, hands pushing weakly at Johnny’s chest to get him off of you. At first, he seemed confused, but then he took in the sudden wetness of your eyes, the heaving of your chest he’d previously thought were due to his ministrations, and as if all of that weren’t bad enough—

“Red,” You wheezed, “Red, red, red, red, red—”

The word you’d both agreed on if things ever got to be too much, the one word that would have gotten either of you to stop dead in your tracks, regardless of how things were emotionally between the both of you.

All of the color drained from Johnny’s cheeks, realizing just how far he’d taken it, and immediately, he let go of you. He tried to get off the couch, and his chest sank as you reached for him, immediately burying your face in his chest as you wept.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, “I’m sorry I was so horrible t’you, I didn’t know what to do—”

Guilt washed over him as he made sense of your rambling. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this now—”

“I do love you, Johnny, I-I do, so much,” You said between sobs, unable to stop the word vomit as you clung to him, “I want you to stay, but I can’t stand the idea of seeing you get h-hurt, I have s-so many nightmares about it at night, Johnny, please, I love you, I love you, so much, s-so much, want you to stay with me forever—”

“Y/N.” He grabbed your face gently with both hands, frowning. The action caused your words to die in your throat, but it didn’t stop the crying. With the pads of his thumbs, he wiped your tears away, before pressing kisses to your cheeks. “It’s okay,” He murmured between kisses, “Deep breaths, baby. I’ll still be here when you’re ready, ‘kay?”

It took you a good minute or so, but when your weeping finally subsided, even the occasional involuntary sobs, Johnny pressed a final kiss to your forehead. He rolled the two of you over, holding you tight to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” He finally muttered, “I was angry and bitter about how we left things off. I shouldn’t have acted on those emotions—”

“No, I’m sorry, too.” You tightened your arms around him. Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I was scared because I’ve never… I’ve never really let anyone in like this. That, plus the whole thing that had been going on overseas—”

“I thought that happened after what happened that night,” He said, looking at you. You shook your head.

“It’d been going on since about six months ago. Things just got so bad that I had to fly in myself and… well.”

You didn’t finish, and Johnny figured out the rest for himself. “You got rid of them?”

You nodded, tucking your head into his chest. “That threat’s over. But what about the next one, and the one after that?”

“After that, we ride through the storm together,” He murmured, “And my queen’s empire will prevail, every—single—time.”

You looked back up at him, your eyes still teary. He offered a soft, wistful smile. One full of yearning and admiration.

“Okay,” You whispered finally, nodding. “We ride through it together.”

This time, when his lips met yours, it wasn’t like anything before. This was gentle, loving. And when you pulled away, your eyes glittered not just with leftover tears, but with another realization. “You’re still hard.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. I am.”

“What if I—”

“I’m not going to fuck you after what just happened.” He shook his head, “What if that triggers something else?”

“I never said anything about you fucking me, Johnny,” You said, rolling the two of you over so you were now on top of him. “Not exactly.”

He raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Y/N…”

“If I weren’t 100% sure I wasn’t going to break down again I wouldn’t be doing this. Just trust me on this, okay?”

Johnny said nothing, but he still didn’t seem very convinced. So you let him watch you peel your pants and underwear off, before removing those heavensent shorts he’d been made to wear tonight.

You moved to straddle him again, your core hovering over his length. Leaning over to cage him between you and the couch, you raised an eyebrow. “How much time do we have left?”

“I’d say about six or seven minutes,” He said, “Whatever you’re gonna do, be quick about it.”

“I know.”

You lowered your hips onto his, the ridges of his cock meeting your clit. The both of you hissed at the same time. Johnny’s eyes screwed shut, your mouth tipped open as you began moving, working your pussy against his dick.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” He groaned, reaching for your hips.

“Yeah?” You sighed, your stomach twisting in delight at his words. He nodded, before sitting up to meet you face to face.

There wasn’t as much talking as you were used to, not tonight. No, this was the both of you desperately trying to make up for lost time and consolidate what was to come, now that you were both finally on the same page. This was you wrapping your arms around his shoulders, clinging to and scratching along the muscular ridges of his back. It was him sucking bruises into your collarbones and neck, trying to aid the movements of your hips with his hands.

You could feel every ridge and vein of him pressed up against you, so good you could practically see stars. It made you cling to him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, eyes screwed shut. His face buried itself into your hair. You could feel his heavy breathing hitting your scalp.

“Johnny,” You whimpered, “I’m—”

“Me too,” He grunted against you, “You feel so—fuck, you feel so good.”

“Kiss me,” You demanded, “Kiss me, please, I love you.”

He did so without hesitation or teasing. This one, too, was different, now imbued with passion and desperation. His tongue clashed with yours, you breathing as heavily as him.

When you broke apart, one hand came up to grip your face. “My queen,” He murmured, “My goddess.”

That did it for you. Your head fell back, blunt nails digging into his back, and suddenly the only word you knew was Johnny’s name. His lips met yours one final time to swallow your moans—you didn’t want to give away what was going on to the security guards, even though they probably already knew. You didn’t feel when Johnny came. Yes, you heard him inhale sharply, breaking away to bite your shoulder so hard you winced at the combination of pleasure-pain. But only when you came down from your ecstasy did you feel the sudden stickiness between your thighs.

When you reached for the nape of his neck you realized he was trembling. He met your eyes, before pressing his nose to yours. One of your hands cradled his face, much like he was doing to yours.

“Thank you,” He whispered, “I’m all yours. You own me, heart and soul.”

“And you own me,” You answered. “It’s not going to be easy for me, I’m letting you know now. But I’m so grateful you’re still here to let me try.”

He smiled, pressing his cheek into your palm. “I—”

A sudden pounding on the door interrupted his words. “Johnny!” Taeyong called, “It’s almost time for your next client!”

“Shit, I’m still dirty,” You muttered, cheeks heating up. Nervously, you looked around only to find nothing to clean the insides of your thighs with. “Fuck, what am I—”

“I have an idea,” Johnny said, eyes alight with mischief, before pinning you down.

“Johnny,” You hissed, “What the hell are you d—”

“Shh,” He insisted, spreading your legs with his hands, “Or do you want Taeyong to find out what’s really going on in here?”

Before you could stop him, his tongue was already licking up the folds of your pussy, cleaning his cum off of you. Immediately, your hand went to cover your mouth, squeezing your eyes tight as you held back a moan. You were still so sensitive from what had just happened seconds ago, and the obscenity of it all, of Johnny cleaning his own cum from your cunt while his boss was demanding to know what’s going on in there had your eyes rolling up in your head.

You looked down at him, him watching you like a predator watching its prey. Your free hand tangled itself in his hair, and despite the desire to push him away, the second his tongue entered your pussy, fucking it shallowly, your hips began rutting against his face. He groaned quietly, the sight of you losing yourself and using him for more pleasure driving him wild.

The speed at which your second orgasm came hurtling towards you was almost embarrassing, but could you really be blamed when Johnny had finished licking the cum from your folds but was sucking on your clit like it was a jawbreaker. Your vision just about turned white, and you supposed a few moans had to have passed through, because in the background, you heard Taeyong’s incessant knocking stop.

When you finally came down, Johnny was already pulling on his shorts. “I still have my key to your place,” He murmured, “You free tomorrow?”

“I can have it cleared,” You mumbled sluggishly, barely responding when he handed you your clothes.

“Great,” He said with a grin, and you looked at him quizzically as you began pulling on your underwear. You had a feeling where this was going, because… well. It was Johnny.

“This? This was only my first course. I fully intend on getting my second and third courses in as soon as I get the chance.”

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