#so i would put my hand and he would land on it or he would fall onto the ground from the cupboard

[complete-clownery]

some fun facts about this whole picture

(also just because I share all of this with you guys, nothing is set in stone, if you have your own theories that's the coolest thing ever!!! Share them with me please!!)

🍜Some of y'all said that Macaque was sitting alone but believe me just because Bai He turned around to chat with MK and Mei she is only there because Macaque came and Macaque is only there because Bai He begged him to tag along,

THEY COME IN A PAIR DO NOT SEPARATE IN GROUP PICTURES!!!

🍜 You might have noticed that some of the chopstick holders and sauce holders have stickers on them. Those were put there by MK. He first did it when he was much younger to help decorate the shop because he overheard a convo between Tang and Pigsy discussing renovation and finances - it was a whole thing - Pigsy even got mad at MK, but they figured it out eventually and nowadays when the stickers get too worn MK replaces them with new ones

🍜 Mei is showing Bai He a puppy video you can hardly see it

🍜 Mei hardly even touches Red Son in the illustration, Red Son is just completely distraught by the idea of being so close to someone. (He's very embarrassed they might be blushing a bit too (I just weren't able to draw that properly lol))

🍜 Yeeah Yeah okay,,, I know there is a shadowpeach shaped question in the room bugging your minds like: omg clownery is it on purpose that they are the only characters that we can't see the faces of???

🍜MK is sitting on the outside of the boot because he keeps on getting up and helping pigsy around (it's not even a conscious decision anymore, whenever they sit down with the others he sits somewhere, where he can easily get up to land a hand to Pigsy (or to anyone in general))

Except from this one ;]

And my answer to that is: I made this drawing on a whim, I started drawing it purely to mess around with perspective and expected to give up halfway bc it looked ass, I could have hardly given it any deeper meaning or thought. How could've I possibly planned anything? The core elements of this picture are all developed while I was drawing it...

See when I sat down and got an idea about a group picture I wanted to differentiate the celestial monkeys (excluding MK) from the main group

This picture takes place some time after season 3 and a bit before season 4. I would like to say that Wukong and Macaque are not a part of this group. Especially in season 3 both of them have done terrible shit and regardless of where they're sitting and what they are doing, they're not part of it all.

For Macaque this is pretty easily illustrated, he is the one who stands out the most, not a lot of people want him there since they did try to kill members of the group even if he was under the influence of LBD. He's at a different table. MK invited them bc MK genuinely wants to be friend Macaque, but this was already stated: Bai He wants Macaque to be there - I have a lot of head canons about their relationship but I'm not going to talk about this here cuz this rant might get even longer - but Bai He at first was scared as fuck with Wukong around, she only felt better when Macaque was there. She has gotten better since then, as you can see she's pretty comfortable with MK and Mei (even Red Son surprisingly), but she still needs Macaque there.

Well for once he is turned away from the pov, we cant see his face already distancing him from you guys the viewers.

Making Wukong stand out and look isolated is a bit more tricky... He's in the group seemingly chatting with Sandy, he's there, part of the whole thing, but there are subtle hints about his environment and body language you might notice:

Also I think It has been made pretty evident in the show that Wukong loves eating right? If he was perfectly at ease he would at least have 3 bowls of noodles, yet he barely touched anything, he's not eating.

His body language is also closed off, arms crossed, legs just next to each other tightly, he's not comfortable, he's somewhere else, Sandy is there but his talking at Wukong rather than talking to him.

I mean he almost got Mei killed and the whole plan screwed since he was unwilling to cooperate and share his plans with the others. I like to think that Mei just straight up ignored him for a while,, same with pigsy,, those two had enough of Wukongs past getting MK in trouble, they do not like him (and them being so buddy buddy with him in later seasons is annoying af to me,,, maybe season 5 gets some form of pass, because more time has passed and Wukongs actions in season 4 were considerably better, but they were waaaaay too comfortable with him at season 5,,, it bugged me a lot)

I think they're also very aware of each other's presence (I have a whole au that plays between season 3 and 4 explaining how Macaque started living on the FFM with Wukong, so in that context,,,, damn they are having a BLAST especially Macaque, he would like to be anywhere but near Wukong :] )

🍜Also they're sitting away from each other as far as possible, and (this was not planned and got pointed out by one of my friends) Wukong is sitting closest to the sun and Macaque is the one who is in the shade the most

Sorry about the big monkey rant, I am just so extremely shadowpeach pilled that it distracts my brain form everything else

And once again: I tell all this stuff to you guys, but feel free to come up with your own theories about the illustration, details, backstories, whatever you have in mind. You guys have different interpretations makes it all the more fun!!

Please share your theories with me in the comments I would love to hear them 🍎🍊🍊

I'll edit this if I have more ideas 💡

Wow okay

[adiadagaki]

shy!megumi spends most of his time looking at you, thinking of how he will kiss you when the day is over, how you hug him so sweetly, listen to his little complaints about Gojo, Yuji and Nobara, but most of all how you let him drown his worries inbetween your legs. Not that he shows any of those feelings off in public, Yuji has questioned if you are actually dating before.

shy!megumi struggles to ask you for things verbally and so he has adopted little tells in order to nudge you into giving him what he wants, him nudging his head against your shoulder means he wants to cuddle, a nudge of his arm in public means he wants you to hold his hand, and so on.

shy!megumi isn’t into PDA but he is jealous and possessive despite of it. If someone, guy or girl, approaches you in any manner they are getting a glare that could put them in a box six feet deep. If the situation calls for it he has no problem asserting that fact through words.

shy!megumi who isn’t so quiet when you guys have sex, that’s when all the noise he holds in comes out.

“F-fuck baby, you are squeezing the life out of me.” His forehead fell against yours, his loud moans landing right against your lips as his hips slapped against yours in such a brutal rhythm.

Squeezing the sheets, you arched up into him, impossibly turned on by his lewd words and wickedly talented hips.

“More Megs. Please.”

shy!megumi uses you as an excuse to get out of any and every social event.

“Hey Megumi, me and Nobara are going to a house party you gotta come.”

“Sorry, I am cooking for my girlfriend tonight.”

“Megumi we are going to the movies.”

“Sorry, I am taking my girlfriend out on a date tonight.”

shy!megumi really is going to go home to you, but in reality he will slip into bed with you and listen to you talk about your day while you play with his hair.

shy!megumi is forever buying you presents and gifts for putting up with him. In your eyes there isn’t a thing wrong with him but no matter how hard you try and assure him it makes no difference.

shy!megumi who would do anything for you, you only had to ask.

[neochan]

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR (M) | PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is the final half of part three of a series! read part one & two for context!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS |  na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 17.7k

WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, explicit smut, breeding kink, wall fucking, mirror fucking, complete mess of mc's inner thoughts, big muscled jaemin :), jaehyun says annoying perverted things. uh angst at the end i'm sorry, please forgive me.

A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the first part will be linked on the masterlist. please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!

Jaemin doesn’t care when you point out Haechan’s shoes near the entrance.

He merely kicks them to the side and pushes you up against the wooden door, hands instinctively finding your waist. They dip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your stomach – forcing a shiver out of you. He was so warm, hands soft against you.

“H-hyuck.” You stammer out.

Jaemin nips at your bottom lip, “Sorry angel, my name's Jaemin.”

“No, Hyuck's home.”

He casts a cursory glance toward the dark hallway, “And?”

“And what if he comes out of his room?” He couldn't catch you making out with Jaemin - hell would break loose.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss you again. “He won’t.”

“Jaem,” you whine, clutching on to the tops of his shoulders.

“He’s probably jerking off to some e-girl, he won’t.” Jaemin reaffirms, pressing his lips against yours to stop you from babbling on about Haechan. He was kissing you. You shouldn’t be thinking about someone else.

His hand abandons your waist and finds home on the side of your face, fingers curling underneath your jaw so he could taste more of you. He kisses you slow, afraid that if he does what he really wants, he’ll overwhelm you. But when you part your lips, just slightly enough to where Jaemin can taste the alcohol on your tongue, he thinks he might just lose it. He sighs into your mouth, tongue dipping slightly – testing the waters.

You open up more, letting him bully his tongue into your mouth. It’s hot and wet and desperate – the way he licks up your own tongue, hands fervently inching higher up your waist until your shirt is caught just beneath your bra. You think he’s going to stop there, but he doesn’t. He keeps going until his hands are hooked underneath your arms and then he’s pulling you in the air – instinctively, your legs find his waist, arms circling his neck.

God damn. You knew he was strong, but not that strong.

“What, didn’t think I’d be able to pick you up?” he questions, both hands grabbing your ass to keep you from falling. You shake your head, afraid to speak or move. The last thing you wanted him to do was drop you. “Angel,” he purrs, “Why do you think I’m in the gym all the time? Gotta make sure I’m able to surprise every woman I’m with.”

“Don’t really wanna hear about other women right now Jaem.” You mumble.

He lets out a barely audible chuckle as he continues to carry you to his room. It takes a moment for him to push open the door; throughout, your head remains on a swivel, silently pleading to whatever higher power that Haechan wouldn’t open the door and catch you swept up in Jaemin's arms.

As Jaemin fumbles into the room, he suddenly hoists you up and swiftly hurls you onto his bed with a whoosh of air, catching you off guard with his unexpected strength. You land with a startled thud, momentarily stunned by the forceful motion. Wide-eyed, you gaze up at Jaemin, surprise and exhilaration coursing through you. His playful grin tells you that he enjoys catching you off balance.

“Told you I was stronger than I looked.”

He’s pleased with your reaction, getting cockier the longer you sit there and stare up at him in awe. You were cute like that; a little dazed, with parted lips and windblown hair. He wanted to devour you.

“You can’t do that!” you hiss, righting yourself onto his bed, until your back hit the solid wood headboard. You draw your knees up and swing an arm around them.

Jaemin’s jaw drops dramatically, “Why not?”

You jerk a thumb at the wall – the one that Haechan shared.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, and yells so loud you think you might just die from embarrassment, “Yo! Hyuck!”

Through the wall you hear Haechan yell, “What?”

Eyes going wide, you slap a hand over your mouth. Was Jaemin crazy? What the fuck was he doing?

Jaemin just grins at you like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I got a girl in here so don’t come nosing around!”

A faint grunt sounds through the wall, no doubt from Haechan playing some video game, “Whatever man. Just keep it down, I got a test to study for.” You hear a slew of curses from Haechan’s room. Even though he had a test tomorrow, he surely didn’t intend to study.

“There, happy?”

Your furrowed brow clearly expressed your discontent. Jaemin, once more, rolls his eyes in exasperation before hopping onto the bed. His fingers, icy cold, grasp your ankles and tug you towards him. You struggle to suppress the shriek threatening to escape your throat, your whole body tensing against the sudden movement.

Jaemin isn’t fazed though. Instead, he settles on leaning over your figure, his arms braced on either side of your body to hold up his weight. With you underneath him, he can’t help but admire the sight. You looked fucking beautiful.

He wants to kiss you again.

And Jaemin always gets what he wants.

"He’s not gonna come in here." Jaemin hushes your worries as he starts kissing you. You wanted to protest, but his lips begin trailing sloppy wet kisses down the side of your neck and the words get caught in the back of your throat. "You like that? You like it when I kiss your neck?"

You nod your head, scared that if you spoke, your sentence would be less of a sentence and more of a moan.

"I want you to use your words, baby." Jaemin nudges his knee between your legs as he urges you to give him a vocal response. "I want to hear you say that you like it when I kiss your neck. Like this." He swipes his tongue against the soft skin of your neck and lightly blows, your body shivering at the cold sensation, but relaxing as soon as he presses another warm kiss to your neck.

"I- Jaem... I love it when you kiss my neck." You whimper out, squirming impatiently underneath his touch.

Jaemin snickers at you, "Oh, Y/N, look at you. You’re that desperate for someone good to please you?”

It’s embarrassing that he was right. You were that desperate. It’d been a while since the pleasure was about you. In fact, it wouldn’t be so crazy of a statement to say that you’d finished more times with yourself than you had with another man. But if you told Jaemin that, you’re not sure if he’d laugh or take it as a challenge.

“I’m so embarrassed—” You blurt out.

Jaemin sits up straight as if on cue. His hand grabs your jaw so that you were looking into his eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s a safe space, okay?” You nod your head as much as his hand would allow, “You tell me what you’re comfortable with. And if I do anything wrong, tell me to stop. I’ll stop the second you say something.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

Maybe it was because he was being understanding, and sweet. Or maybe it was because he looked so god damn sexy, watching you through hooded eyes – but you grab a handful of his shirt and tug him back down.

His lips find yours first, soft and commanding, coaxing a whimper out of you. Moving in rhythm, he presses into you, feverishly consuming your taste like it was a fucking drug. When you try to pull away, he chases, not wanting to let you go just yet.

He parts his lips, mumbling against yours, “Oh, don’t get cocky now…You’re mine for tonight and I plan on getting my fill.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach. Jaemin tilts his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue flicking against yours with a slow, deliberate tease. His hand slides down your neck, fingers grazing your collarbone before trailing lower, mapping your body like he wants to memorize every dip, every reaction.

You arch into him as he moves closer, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The warmth of his palm finds the exposed skin at your waist, thumb stroking slow, calculated circles that make your breath hitch.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear.

Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. "I just…want you."

Jaemin hums, pleased, as he kisses down the column of your throat. "That’s all I needed to hear."

His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers skimming up your ribs, teasing just under the curve of your breast—but before he can go any further, he pauses, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Can I take this off?"

The second you nod your head, Jaemin is up and moving.

He takes your clothes off in record time. It’s nearly hysterical how you’re completely dressed one second, and the next, your outfit has joined the pile of others on the floor. He gets himself undressed equally as fast, but when you watch it’s like time slows down.

You want to remember all of this, intently observing when he lifts his shirt over his head. His torso was toned, abs tensing and relaxing with the effort of tossing his shirt into the corner of his room. Faint veins peak through the skin of his forearms, and his hands…. his hands. So large and veiny, you can’t help but want two of his thick fingers between your thighs, right then.

“Like what you see?” He comments, fingers already working fast to undo the buttons on his pants.

You don’t respond, too infatuated by the sight that was Na Jaemin. You can’t wait to appreciate what the fuck he was hiding behind the heavy denim fabric. But just as he’s about to pull them down and give you a taste of what you were craving to see; he stops himself.

“Don’t know why I’m taking these off,” he says it like it slipped his mind. “This is about you.”

Jaemin doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s guiding you back onto the bed, lips never leaving your skin. He kisses down your body like he’s savoring every inch, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth and desperation in his wake. His lips graze over your collarbone, your sternum, the sensitive spot just below your ribs. Every kiss is a promise, a whispered devotion against your skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin. He hums against you, satisfied, dragging his lips lower, lower, until he’s just above where you need him most. His breath fans over your inner thighs, and you twitch beneath him, anticipation making you lightheaded.

“Relax, baby,” he coos, looking up at you through dark lashes. “Gonna make you feel good.”

He presses one last teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your knees. The movement makes you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets as he settles onto his back beneath you.

“Sit down,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. He tugs you forward, urging you to straddle his face, but you hesitate, knees pressing into the mattress beside his head.

His hands find your thighs, fingers kneading the flesh as he urges you down. “Don’t make me say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Jaemins fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out, “I said sit the fuck down.”

“But what if I–”

“Y/n, I don’t care!” his fingers tighten again, biceps flexing with the exertion of trying to get you to just give in and ride his face.

“Suffocation.” you declare.

“What?”

“What if I suffocate you.”

Jaemin laughs and you can feel his breath against the inside of your thigh. Embarrassment licks your spine. You should have just shut up and gotten on with it.

“Okay one,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to kiss your leg, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” he catches your gaze and licks a long stripe up your inner thigh, “And two, even if it did happen theoretically. I think any man would be happy to be suffocated by you. I mean look at you—” he gives another trail of kisses on your other thigh, “Such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pussy”

“Jaem–”

“You’re already straddling my head, just sit down and enjoy yourself.” His eyes soften, “I promised you at least one orgasm.”

Your breath stutters as his words settle in, heavy and warm like his hands on your thighs. His grip is firm, but there’s patience in his touch, an unspoken promise that he won’t rush you—at least, not yet.

“Jaemin…” His name is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest now.

“Yes, baby?” His lips graze your skin, teasing, waiting. His voice is silk, smooth and coaxing, laced with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach tighten.

You don’t have a response—not one that makes sense, anyway. Your fingers curl into his hair, your hesitation dissolving with every deliberate kiss he presses to your thighs. His hands slide up, guiding, encouraging.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

The last of your resistance crumbles as you let yourself sink into his touch, into him—because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Jaemin always keeps his promises.

His hands slide further up, gripping your hips firmly as he pulls you down, guiding you to settle against his mouth. The first slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue sends a shock through your body, making you grip onto his hair tighter, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin groans beneath you, the vibration making your thighs shake. He eats you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s wanted to do this for so long. His tongue flicks against your clit, teasing, before he seals his lips around it and sucks.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips stuttering against his face.

He hums in response, clearly satisfied with the sounds you’re making. His grip on your hips tightens as he presses you down harder against his mouth, his tongue working you over with precise, devastating strokes.

“Jaemin,” you pant, trying to lift yourself off, but he’s not having it. His arms flex as he locks you in place, a quiet, muffled growl leaving him.

Jaemin’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Suffocation,” you blurt out again.

Jaemin chuckles against you, the vibration making your whole body shudder. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

His tongue flicks against your clit with devastating precision, alternating between slow, teasing circles and deep, hungry sucks that have your thighs trembling around his head. He’s relentless—lapping at you like he’s memorizing every sound you make, every little shudder, every sharp gasp.

Your hands fist into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and the groan that rumbles from him is downright sinful. He likes this—loves this, having you like this, falling apart above him with no escape. The control is his, and you’re drowning in it.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shining, eyes dark with something dangerous. “See? Still breathing,” he teases, before diving back in like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

And with the way he’s holding you, tasting you, worshiping you—you don’t think you’ll be able to stop either.

Jaemin, I—”

“I know, baby,” he coos, one hand leaving your thigh to slide up your spine, pressing firm between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you. “I got you.”

His mouth closes around your clit again, sucking just hard enough to have your back arching, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue working against you fill the room, and you don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or completely undone.

But Jaemin wants you like this—desperate, messy, his.

“Come on,” he murmurs between drench kisses, his voice dripping with something dark and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your thighs start to tremble, heat coiling tight in your stomach, spiraling higher and higher as his tongue works you over. He notices, of course—he always notices—his grip tightening as he murmurs, “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

You try to hold back, try to ride the edge a little longer, but Jaemin doesn’t let you. He flicks his tongue faster, lips sealing around your clit with one last devastating pull, and it’s over. Your release crashes through you, your body jerking, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure swallows you whole.

Jaemin groans beneath you, drinking it down like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, his hands gripping you through every shudder, every twitch.

When the aftershocks finally subside, your body slackens, thighs trembling as you try to catch your breath. Jaemin presses one last lingering kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you, smug, satisfied, and completely wrecked.

“Told you I’d take care of you,” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to wipe at your face. A tear just rolled down your cheek and you didn’t even realize. “I haven’t even given you my cock yet and you’re already crying?”

Your body is still buzzing, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you blink down at him. This is it, you think. You’re done. Your legs feel like jelly, and the warmth of his hands on your skin is grounding enough to bring you back down to reality.

You can't believe you just sat on Na Jaemins face.

Still in shock, you move, sliding down from your place above him, hands reaching for the waistband of his pants, ready to return the favor, to touch him, to finally satisfy him—

But Jaemin catches your wrist, stopping you.

“Did you think I was done?” His voice is sweet, teasing, but there’s another promise behind his words that makes your stomach flip. His grip tightens just slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the inside of your wrist.

“Oh, no.” His other hand moves, tracing up your still-sensitive thigh, fingertips grazing higher and higher until they slip between your legs, making you jolt.

“This is about you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you still are. “And I can make you come again.”

Your breath catches, body still sensitive from the first orgasm, but Jaemin doesn’t give you time to recover. Two fingers slip inside you with ease, curling immediately, finding that spot that makes you see stars.

His pace is slow at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch of his fingers as they move inside you. The stretch is perfect, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of sensitivity, the remnants of your last orgasm making you gasp at every motion.

“You can give me another one, can’t you?” he taunts, lips dragging along your inner thigh. “I know you can.”

Your fingers grip at his wrist, not sure if you’re trying to stop him or pull him deeper. “Jaemin—”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes, his voice pure sin. His thumb circles your clit in slow, devastating strokes, and your whole body tenses.

He watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with something unreadable—something possessive. His fingers pick up the pace, pressing deeper, curling just right, and your thighs twitch with the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking in satisfaction when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you like being called mine, hm?”

The heat inside you builds too fast, Jaemin’s touch sending you spiraling again, and before you can stop it, the pleasure snaps—your body jerking, another broken moan leaving your lips as you come undone for the second time.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, his thumb pressing against your clit as he works his fingers deep, stretching you open. “Come on NaNa’s fingers.”

Jaemin works you through it, easing his pace, letting you ride the high as he coaxes every last bit of pleasure from you. When your body finally sags, his fingers slip out, his hand smoothing over your hip to soothe you.

“There you go,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your knee. “Knew you had one more for me.”

Your head spins, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But before you can fully process it, Jaemin is shifting, his lips finding yours in a slow, indulgent kiss.

And then, he pulls himself up on the bed so that he’s laying on his back with you snuggled against his chest.

“I can give you another.” He grabs your hand and presses it to his bare chest, eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window, “You want another, baby?”

Gingerly, you nod your head, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was faster than it should be.

He smiles, “Greedy girl…I like it.”

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shimmies backwards on the bed until his head in pushed between your thighs again. He looks up at you, lips curled, and eyebrows raised. “You want my fingers or my tongue?”

You’ve had both tonight…but you want more. “Want your cock.”

“Oh baby,” He chuckles, “I told you this was about you, not me.”

“But it’s what I want!” You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows.

You can’t see his reaction, but he licks a long stripe up the inner part of your leg, forcing a shier out of you. “Not tonight, angel. So, tongue, or fingers.”

God, this was gonna be a long night.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains casts a harsh glow on your face as you begin to stir. Disoriented and exhausted, you roll over to escape the brightness, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep.

Realization hits you like a semi-truck.

This bed is not your own.

The sheets feel different, the mattress unfamiliar. Your eyes snap open, and a fleeting moment of confusion sweeps over you.

Oh.

Jaemin’s room—familiar yet disorienting—greets you.

The cream-colored walls are plastered with luxury car and playboy posters, shelves showcasing an impressive array of camera models and strips of film. The floor is strewn with clothes – including your own. His desk sits abandoned of textbooks, and his backpack, which was there last night, is gone.

Looking towards the other side of the bed – it’s apparent that he’s gone too.

At least he had the decency to let you sleep.

Beneath the covers, you become aware of your state of undress, a blush warming your cheeks as the memories of the night flood back.

Just as you start to collect your thoughts, the room’s silence is shattered by the insanely loud ringing of your phone. Panic sets in as you fumble around the bed, searching for the source of the sound.

After a moment of frantic searching, your gaze lands on Jaemin’s desk. There it is – your phone, innocently plugged in to charge.

And the decency to plug in your phone? Unheard of, really.

With a hasty movement, you extricate yourself from the tangled sheets and leap to answer the phone.

Mark’s name flashes across the screen.

“Shit.” You curse, fumbling to press the answer button. Before he can get a word out, you’re already mumbling apologies and promises to make it up to him.

“Dude, calm down.”  Mark's voice, though edged with frustration, carries a note of understanding. You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you continue to explain.

"I overslept, Mark, seriously. I lost track of time. I'm on my way to the library right now. We can still work on the project, I promise."

There's a brief pause on the other end, and Mark finally answers. "I already came back to my dorm. If you wanna meet here, I don’t mind. My roommates are here though."

Shit.

Mark was one of the unlucky students this year that got placed in the freshman dorms due to a shortage of upperclassmen housing. Instead of sharing an apartment with one other person, and getting his own room, he was cramped with three other guys. And he had to share his room.

“You don’t wanna meet back at the library?”

On the other end of the line he sighs, “I waited for you to show up for an hour dude. When I left, my seat was the only one open. I’m sure it’s taken now.”

Apologizing again seemed futile. “I’ll just come to you. Be there in no time.”

“Ok, just knock when you get here. See ya.” And with that Mark hangs up.

You take a deep breath and set your phone back on the desk.

It’s only when you catch sight of yourself in his full-length mirror that you remember you’re standing naked in the middle of Jaemins room. Your tits are completely out, and judging by the dark bruises painting your chest like some kind of twisted art piece, you were definitely put through it last night.

Jesus, was he trying to brand you? Like, yeah, you get it, he’s good—but was this necessary? Now you have to strategize every outfit for the next week so you don’t look like you got into a street fight with a vacuum cleaner.

The four orgasms were totally worth it though.

You sigh, understanding that this probably wasn’t the moment to bask in the after-non-sex glow, and that you really need to get dressed and get the fuck up out of Jaemins room before 1. Haechan decided to come snooping around or 2. Mark chose to cut you loose from the project and do it himself.

You reluctantly bend down and gather your clothes from the pile on the floor. Frowning, you hold up a crumpled shirt to your nose, wrinkling in distaste. It smelled like a week-old mini bar.

Of course, the one drink you had last night would make an impression on your clothes. It’s clear that decision have consequences, and now you have to deal with the aftermath, because there’s only one option.

Borrow something from Jaemins closet.

Shit.

The closet beckons from across the room. You approach it tentatively, knowing you're crossing into personal territory. Opening the door, you scan the hangers, searching for something that won't scream 'borrowed.' But there aren’t many options for that. You see, Jaemin had three options in his wardrobe: tank tops & gym shorts, oversized hoodies & sweats, and button ups & dress pants.

Sighing, you reach for the closest hoodie, and rifle through the bottom drawers for some sweats. After a moment, you find the ones that weren’t going to be too big on you – a simple grey hoodie that had the logo of NCTU plastered across the back, and the matching pants. At least this combination would give you the cute ‘wearing your boyfriends clothes around campus’ aesthetic. Except he wasn’t your boyfriend – just your best friend who ate pussy like a starved man.

You tug the hoodie over your head and try it make it fit as comfortably as possible. It’s a little too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you take in your disheveled appearance.

A part of you wants to nose around the bathroom to find a hairbrush, maybe a spare toothbrush, but that’d be too much of a risk. Haechan could not catch you in a position like this.

After taking a final look around the room, you gather your belongings and prepare to make a hasty exit. The door creaks open, and you freeze, half-expecting Haechan to walk out and catch you in the act.

With one peek around the hallway, you see his door swung wide open. Chancing it, you take a couple steps out and realize that his room is empty.

The universe keeps granting you pardon after pardon.

This string of luck continues as you fumble your way out of the dorm and bolt down the stairs – still no Haechan in sight. In fact, you don’t see a single soul until you find yourself outside of the freshman dormitory. Students lounge on the hammocks situated in front of the building and you walk by without a word.

You’d only been to Marks dorm one other time, and it takes a moment to recall his room number. Honestly, each door looked the same. By some miracle you find the right one – or what you hoped to be the right one.

Delivering a semi-confident knock, you sway awkwardly. You really hoped this was the right room.

From the other side, you hear shuffling and then the door is being swung wide open.

“Hello…” This is not mark. However, the only telltale sign that you were at the right place was this guy’s bright ass silver hair. Looks like someone had fallen victim to Marks hair dye tendencies. “Can I help you?”

He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a once over.

“I’m here to see Mark.” You reply, hoping he’d just let you in.

Of course not.

“I’m Chenle.” He responds.

You don’t know what to say, “Okay, nice to meet you.” What was this kid going to do? Interview you? Interrogate you?

“Are you a freshman?” He asks.

After about three seconds of hesitation, you respond, “Can you let me in? I’m late to meet Mark for our project.” You didn’t want to be mean, but you were over guys flirting with you. There was some actual schoolwork that needed to get done. And this scrawny, silver haired kid was in the way.

“Mark’s not here, but you can come chill with me.” His smirk lights up his entire face, eyes crinkling in delight.

“Chenle, fucking move and let her in.”

Mark’s voice comes from behind Chenle and the boy in question moves backwards in a huff. “I was just getting to know her.” He pouts.

Mark gives you a half-hearted wave and a smile, beckoning you into the dorm. As you step inside, gently closing the door behind you, you realize at how cramped the freshman dorms really were. How could four men live in these conditions?

Barbaric, really.

“Sorry about Chenle. He likes to flirt with anything that walks.” Mark gives a pointed glare to the younger boy, and it makes you giggle.

"Looks like you got a mini Jaemin on your hands” you joke, looking around the room. The small space is cluttered with textbooks, clothes, and various other items – definitely a men’s dorm.

"I was just being friendly," Chenle protests, flashing a charming smile in your direction. "Unlike someone, I know how to make a girl feel welcome."

Mark scoffs, “Oh, please.” He grabs your wrist and starts to tug you to his room, “Come on Y/N, let’s go do this project.”

As Mark pulls you away, Chenle calls after you, "If you get bored, I’m out here.”

You think his determination is kinda cute. Apparently, this offends mark “She’s never gonna go for you dude! Give it up!”

And with that, Mark slams his door shut.

See, it wasn’t that you were stupid, but composing, creating, and editing an entire song longer than a minute and a half wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Which, by the way, literally had nothing to do with theory.

Thankfully Mark knew guitar, could sing, and already had the song written. You decided to stick to the editing part.

Before long, the assignment was complete and turned in. And it only took half an hour – most of which consisted of trying to figure out the controls on the soundboard without deleting the recorded parts.

It took you a minute, but you finally got the hang of it.

After finishing up, Mark suggested grabbing lunch, and you agreed. The two of you headed to the campus cafe, chatting about everything from music to hockey (that conversation was fleeting), to the latest campus-wide trend of jumping into the fountains.

As you eagerly settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the heavenly experience that awaited you with the loaded tacos, a familiar voice pierced the air.

“Y/N!”

God-fucking-damn-it.

Two seconds later, a wind-blown Hyuck joins your table. His hair was in wild tangles at the top of his head, jacket precariously hanging off one shoulder, and his cheeks sported a subtle shade of tinged pink.

Mark, busy shoveling a forkful of green beans into his mouth, couldn't help but comment, "Why do you look like that?"

"Took the words right outta my mouth," you mumbled, side-eyeing Haechan.

Haechan scoffed, "Why do I look so beautiful, handsome, and sexy?"

"You wish.”

The new addition to your table shoots a glare at you. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

Mark chimed in, “You look like you got caught in a tornado.”

Haechan bangs a fist onto the tabletop, making your water ripple in your glass, “I had to run here.”

“To the café?” You question, taking a tentative bite of your taco.

Haechan rolls his eyes, “No, to the architecture building – yes, to the café.”

Mark, ever the voice of reason, took a drink of water before asking, “Why?”

Haechan gave a dead serious look, treating you and Mark like you were the dumbest people on Earth. "Because it’s taco day."

“So tacos equal running?” You giggle.

Haechan glares at you again, giving you a once over. His eyebrow pops up, “Why are you wearing Jaemins clothes?”

You choke on your taco.

Swallowing hard, you respond, "What? No, these are definitely mine."

Haechan narrows his eyes, clearly skeptical. "Come on, Y/N. I’ve literally scene him wear that exact outfit, like, last week."

Of course you had to pick the one outfit Jaemin wore recently. What were the odds? Actually, knowing your luck? One hundred percent. Should’ve grabbed something from the back of his closet. Maybe a damn tuxedo, just to throw Haechan off your scent.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to downplay the situation. "Well, maybe it's just a similar style. Lots of people wear sweat suits like this."

Mark, clueless as could be, chimes in through another mouthful of green beans, "Yeah, Haechan, don't jump to conclusions. It's just an outfit."

Haechan, however, wasn't convinced. He leaned in, scrutinizing the fabric. "I know Jaemin's style like the back of my hand. I’m literally his roommate."

Your heart raced as you desperately tried to deflect his suspicion. Perhaps the best thing to do in this situation was gaslight him. "You're imagining things. It's probably just a coincidence."

He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mischievous mind audibly turning. "Maybe, but you can't deny it looks good on you. Fits better than it ever did on Jaemin."

That catches you off guard and you struggle to reply, stammering out, “Well, um, I guess people have different body types, right?"

It made no sense. This hoodie literally swallowed you whole.

Mark couldn't contain his laughter, and Haechan throws him an annoyed look. "Stop laughing, Mark. This is serious business."

“Yeah,” Mark wipes away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “If you count hitting on Y/N as serious business.”

As Haechan turns to defend himself against Marks allegations, your phone buzzed on the table. A sense of relief washes over you as you check the caller ID. It was Jennie. "Sorry, guys, gotta run. Duty calls," you announce, seizing the opportunity to escape this disappointing lunch date.

Haechan, still fixated on the fact that you were definitely wearing Jaemin’s clothes, smirked. "Sure, dodge the question. Perhaps I’ll go ask Jaem about it later."

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "You're just mad I went with him last night instead of you."

It was his turn to stammer out a half-muttered response, the apples of his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. So, what if you’d chosen Jaemin over him? It’s not like he really cared. Okay maybe he did, but really that’s only because he didn’t trust Jaemin to take care of you like you should be taken care of.

Oh, the things he didn’t know.

“Whatever,” he brushes off casually, “I’m eating your tacos if you’re leaving.”

“Have at it.” You retort.

With a quick farewell, you stepped away from the table, answering Jennie’s call as you made your way through the bustling dining room. “Hey, what’s up.”

“Y/N, it’s an emergency! Literally capital E! Can you meet me at the quad foutain? I’m begging you; I desperately need your help! This event is spiraling into a complete disaster!”

You almost get hit in the head with a flying football the moment you step out of the cafeteria doors.

Ducking just in time, you glance around and find the culprit – a shirtless boy in cargos and a beanie – weird combo.

“My bad.” He apologizes, jogging to where you were still reeling. He scoops up the ball and spares you a glance, “You okay?”

“’M fine.” You mumble, brushing off the close call.

He gives you a grin and jogs back to where his friends were waiting impatiently. You feel like you knew him from somewhere – Johnny, you think his name was. You shrug it off and continue walking.

Just another typical day at this stupid university.

With your backpack slung over one shoulder, you navigate through clusters of students, the chatter of voices filling the air. The sun beats down warmly, casting long shadows across the pathway as you make your way towards the heart of the campus—the quad.

The quad, with its lush greenery and towering trees, serves as the central gathering point for students. As you approach, you catch glimpses of the glistening fountain at its center, water dancing in the sunlight.

Students lounge on the grass, textbooks sprawled open, while others toss frisbees or kick soccer balls around. You make sure to keep an eye out for more flying objects.

Laughter mingles with the sound of music drifting from portable speakers as you draw closer to the fountain, searching for Jennie’s familiar figure among the crowd. Yet, as you reach the edge of the quad, your heart sinks a fraction. Jennie is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, standing by the fountain like some Greek god of fuckboy temptation, is Jaemin—crisp white t-shirt, grey sweats hanging just right, and that faded pink hair. You should turn around. You should pretend you never saw him. You should call Jennie and fake an emergency. But nope. Here you are, walking straight toward your doom.

If it weren't for the grin that lights up Jaemin's face as he spots you approaching, you would have probably just walked past him without a word. “Nice outfit.” Jaemin teases, carding a hand through his faded pink hair.

You glance down at yourself, remember you're clad in Jaemin's hoodie and sweatpants, and now you’re face to face with him. A faint blush creeps onto your cheeks. "Uh, thanks," you mumble, tugging at the hem of the oversized hoodie self-consciously. "My clothes smelled like alcohol…I’m sorry if–”

"Y/n, It’s not a big deal," he interrupts, his tone light as he gives you a playful wink.

You nod, grateful for his easy acceptance. "Okay good.”

As you're about to explain your presence, Jaemin beats you to the question. "So what’s up? Whaddya doing here?"

You hesitate, wondering how much to disclose before deciding to keep it simple. "Jennie called, said she needed help with something."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise in amusement. "What a coincidence, me too."

Before you can inquire further, a commotion at the edge of the quad catches your attention. Your eyes widen as you watch Jennie darting through the crowd, her figure unmistakable, clad only in a bright green bikini.

"Girl, what's up?" you exclaim, wondering why your roommate was running through campus barely dressed.

Jennie skids to a stop in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear. "Hey, sorry I'm late! I called you guys because I need both of you to help with our event.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, a few obnoxious catcalls pierce the air, directed at Jennie. Your jaw clenches instinctively, ready to defend your friend, but before you can react, Jennie flips the offenders the most glorious middle finger you've ever seen.

“Perverts.” She grumbles, “Anyways, it’s simple. Walk and talk, okay?”

You and Jaemin nod, following behind her as she guides you through the crowd while explaining what the hell was going on.

"Okay, so," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation, "Delta Gamma and Pike are hosting a car wash event to raise money for one of the local hospitals. It's all part of our philosophy, you know, brother-sister Greek life thing, whatever." Jaemin shoots you a glance, and you just shrug. You didn’t know much about Greek life either.

"But literally only four sisters and six brothers showed up – which is another problem entirely because I swear half of those new recruits are gonna get dropped for putting me through this much stress." You roll your eyes, knowing she would never do that. "And with only ten people and…"

"Holy shit," you breathe out, stunned by the sheer number of cars lined up.

The three of you halt at the roundabout on the edge of campus, two lines of cars waiting to be washed. There had to be at least thirty, all gleaming in the sunlight, eagerly awaiting their turn for a scrub-down.

Shirtless frat boys were washing one line of cars – spraying the hose water all over their chests and hurling soap bombs at each other. Laughter echoes as soap bubbles fly through the air.

On the opposite side, sorority girls in matching bikinis handle the other line of cars with finesse and charm. Their smiles are as radiant as the sunlight, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. Despite the heat, they maintain their composure, efficiently scrubbing away dirt and grime while maintaining their impeccable appearance. Boys hang out of their cars, hooting and hollering and cheering.

Jaemin whistles lowly, his eyes scanning the line of vehicles. "Looks like we're in for a busy day," he remarks, a hint of excitement in his voice.

For a split second, you wonder if he’s checking out the girls, but he turns to you and gives you a smile.

Jennie nods, her expression determined. "I know.” she declares, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "If you could help out, even for half an hour, I’d appreciate it."

"Of course," Jaemin replies with a grin, his enthusiasm contagious. "We're here to help however we can."

You nod in agreement, "Count us in," you say, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. If Jaemin was staying, you sure as hell weren’t leaving—because what kind of idiot passes up the opportunity to watch six feet of pink-haired temptation scrub cars in slow motion?

“It’s not really about cleaning the cars. Just look sexy and pretend to scrub!” Jennie explains, setting her hands on her hip. She cocks her head to the side, practically begging.

Jaemin grins, “Well, if that’s the case, I can do sexy.”

You snort, “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.”

Jaemin swiftly hoists his shirt over his head, casually discarding it on the ground. You can't help but notice how good he looks—toned chest, and a stone wall of abs. As he stretches, the muscles in his arms and torso flex and contract, and you watch in fascination.

He jogs over to the boys' side, greeting them with enthusiasm. Their ritualistic embraces appear almost painful to the untrained eye—open hands slapping backs and clasped fists.

However, for you, there was one problem: you didn’t have a bathing suit. So, you opt for the next best thing. With a hint of uncertainty, you peel off Jaemin's hoodie, standing there in your bra. Sure, it was a lacy delicate thing, but it covered up the areas that needed to be.

“Y/n!” Jennie nearly shrieks. You can sense a few other pairs of eyes turning your way, including Jaemin’s. His gaze darkens the second he sees you, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His fingers curl slightly—like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. There’s something heavy in the way he looks at you, as if he’s fighting an internal battle between restraint and instinct.. “What are you wearing.”

“What?” You grumbled, hands peppering your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that– or maybe Jaemin’s gaze made all this worth it. “I know it’s not a bathing suit, but what can you expect on such short notice? I’m gonna keep the sweats on anyway.”

She shakes her head, “I have a spare bathing suit in my car if you wanna go change into that.” It’s obvious she isn’t going to take no for an answer, so you oblige, snatching the keys out of her hand.

You jog over to Jennie’s car parked in the lot down the brick path. Unlocking the car, you climb inside, glancing around nervously to ensure no wandering students catch you in the midst of your impromptu wardrobe change. Thankfully, there’s parked cars on either side of you, blocking you in. You just hope their owners don’t come out wanting to take a midday drive.

The car’s interior is stifling, heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. The scent of worn leather and faint perfume from Jennie’s air freshener fills the small space as you hurriedly peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to your damp skin. You hope the tinted windows provide enough cover. The spare bathing suit is a tucked into the pocket on the back of the passenger side seat, and you struggle to get it on without elbowing the car door.

As you struggle with the straps, a pair of familiar eyes catches you off guard. Jaemin, passing by, raises an eyebrow in surprise. Panicking, you duck behind the backseat, using it as a makeshift shield.

Three seconds later there’s a sharp rap on the window.

When you look up, Jaemins face is peering in.

You grab the handle and push open the door – thankful that you at least managed to get on most of the bikini.

“Well look at you.” He grins, climbing into the backseat and closing the door behind himself.

“Jaem–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because the boy in question grabs your jaw and pushes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise, but you find his rhythm almost immediately. It’s sweltering in the car, but nothing compares to the heat radiating off his chest as he pushes his body into yours. His tongue drives shamelessly into your mouth, and you open wider, letting him taste you.

His hands slide under you, strong and unyielding, pressing you flush against him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating, but you don’t pull away. One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, the friction sending a sharp jolt through your core. He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your lips, his grip tightening ever so slightly—like he’s holding himself back.

“You look good.” He mumbles against your lips, before pulling back and tugging on the bottom one with his teeth, “Can’t believe everyone else gets to see you like this.” You don’t even realize your eyes are shut before they’re fluttering open. He rests his forehead on your own, “Thought it was just for me?”

You laugh breathlessly, “What happened to it only being friends helping out friends.”

He shares the laugh, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda got a problem and could definitely use your help. It’s your fault after all.”

His confession makes pride bloom in your chest.

Reaching a hand down between what little space there was between you, you grab him through his shorts – a heavy hand palming his growing hard-on. “Oh, this problem?”

“Yeah.” He groans, hips bucking into your touch. “That one.”

You grin up at him, making sure to look deep into his eyes, “Well, I hate to disappoint…”

“No!” He groans, rutting against you to try and feel any dwindling friction, “Don’t say that!”

His response makes you giggle, “If we stay in here much longer, Jennie's bound to come looking.”

He pouts, bottom lip jutting out, eyes like a puppy dog. When he finally understands that he won’t – that he can’t get what he wants, he smiles and steal another kiss. This one is shorter but still makes you shiver.

“After?” You ask, the hope evident in your tone.

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“Not true!” you swat his arm, “But seeing you out there all buff and shirtless, well, I’ll probably have a problem later too.”

His response is instantaneous, “And I’ll be more than happy to help you out with that…after.”

It was your turn to steal a kiss from him. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you halfway sit up and nip at his lips. He catches you and pulls you deeper – and he keeps going into your head grows thick, and you become dizzy.

“Okay, okay.” You assert, banging weak fist on his shoulder, “We got to go.”

“Want some help with the top? I saw you struggling with it. Let me tie it for you.”

You see, Jaemin was so damn sweet sometimes – especially when he was horny and wanted something – someone. And right now, all he wanted was you.

Twisting around in the cramped back seat was hard, but you manage, and Jaemin expertly ties the back of the bikini so that it wouldn’t fall off halfway through washing someone’s beat up Toyota.

“Thanks.”

"Don’t mention it.” He dismisses the gratitude with a wave, and you push open the door, stepping out. The heat that had built up in the car hits you, and as you emerge, you feel the immediate relief of being able to finally catch a breath.

When he doesn’t immediately follow, you bend down to peek back into the car, “Are you coming?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a minute to…cool down.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to his lap that sported a rather impressive tent.

“Okay.” You laugh, shutting the door and leaving Jaemin to ‘cool down’.

The smile on your face doesn’t dissipate at you walk back to the growing line of cars waiting to be washed by hot sorority sisters in skimpy bathing suits – and Jennie notices, but for the wrong reason.

“You like the bathing suit?” she chirps, “It’s kinda small on you but it looks good!!”

“I love it.” It made Jaemin climb into a hot car with you in the middle of campus, what was there to hate?

She beams, “I knew you would! Now, it’s really simple, just grab a bucket, a sponge, and claim a car that pulls up. The rest is up to you, but as we’ve learned so far, people tend to tip if you put on a little show.” She points to where one of her fellow sisters was leaning over the hood of a Jeep Wrangler and practically using her boobs to wipe around the soapy water. The frat guys leaning out of the windows hoot and holler and cheer for her.

The last thing you wanted to be doing today was putting on a show for sleazy frat boys, but you’d do anything for your roommate.

“I really appreciate this y/n.” she remarked, pulling you in for an embrace.

Like you said, you’d do anything for this pure soul.

“Don’t mention it girl.” You take a look around at the waiting line of cars. There had to be at least fifty. "‘Now, where’s my bucket? And preferably, someone rich enough to make this performance worth it."

Washing cars isn’t so bad ��� you only get soap in your eye once.

The only reason you got soap in your eye?

Na Jaemin.

Because how were you supposed to focus when he looked like that?

Water sprayed against his chest, each droplet clinging to the ridges of his abs like it had nowhere better to be. His pink hair dripped, plastered to his forehead, and when he ran a hand through it—fuck—you forgot how to breathe for a second.

Was dragging him back to Jennie’s car a bad idea? Probably. Was it on your mind? Absolutely.

But before you could entertain the thought any longer, Jaemin caught your stare—and winked. And like a complete idiot, you freaked out so hard you ended up blinding yourself with soap.

His laugh carried across the row of cars, embarrassment climbing your spine.

But he was looking too. In fact, Jaemin was staring. No—Jaemin was mesmerized. He thought your tits were distracting—but this? This was something else entirely. Because when you turned, revealing bare skin and that goddamn thong bikini, Jaemin forgot how to function. His brain short-circuited, mouth going completely dry, and suddenly, he understood religion. Because this? This was divine intervention.

He must have been staring too long, because Yuta elbowed him—hard.

"That your girl?" Yuta grinned, knowing damn well Jaemin was acting like a man down bad.

Jaemin nearly choked on air. "N-no, she’s just a friend."

Yuta didn’t believe that for a damn second."*

Yuta looks back and forth between the two of you, catching the way you peek up through your lashes in search of Jaemin. When you catch Yuta looking, you duck your head.

“She’s pretty.” Yuta breathes, reaching for the bucket of soapy water he had put down five minutes before.

Jaemin nods his head absentmindedly, “Yeah she is.”

Yuta is no stranger to love. His girlfriend, Chloe, and him have been together for years – ever since they were inexperienced freshmen at NCTU. Chloe was the light of his life, his forever. And the way that Jaemin was eyeing you right now was exactly how Yuta had looked at his girl during orientation at NCTU. A gaze filled with adoration and longing. Yuta bet that if he took Jaemins pulse right now it would be elevated as fuck.

Just as Yuta is about to tell Jaemin to go over there and ask you out, a sleek BMW pulls up to the curb with a soft purr.

The owner parks the car and Jaehyun steps out.

Jaemin can't hear from where he's standing, but he watches as Jaehyun strolls up to you and Jennie with a shit-eating grin.

“Excuse me one second.” Jaemin voices, dropping the sponge in his hand on the sidewalk.

If they weren’t dating yet, it wouldn’t be long, Yuta thinks.

Jaemin reaches you just in time to catch the tail end of Jaehyun’s sentence—and honestly, it takes every ounce of self-control not to swing on him right then and there.. His fists clenching at his sides, Jaemin forces a tight-lipped smile. The sight of you, standing there with a hint of uncertainty in your eyes, serves as a reminder to keep his composure.

"Hey, Jaehyun," Jaemin interjects, his voice steady despite the itch of anger climbing in his throat. "Glad you could make it. We've got plenty of cars to wash."

He doesn’t understand the source of his anger. There's no logical explanation for it. Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong to you. Perhaps it's because Jaemin has unofficially claimed you as his own, even if only temporarily.

Jaehyun chuckles, “I’m not here to wash cars, this isn’t NEO’s philosophy.  Our philosophy is military related. But we’re having a volleyball tournament next week where people can bet, and the money will go to families of fallen soldiers. You can swing by if you’d like.”

"I'll keep that in mind, Jaehyun," Jaemin replies, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration smoothing out.

Jennie speaks up, “I’ll definitely be there.”

Jaemin’s anger slowly dissipates. He can’t really be mad at a dude that did charity.

“I am here to get my car washed though.” Jaehyun continues, and he turns to look at you.

You don’t say a word, instead, Jennie takes charge, “Well lucky for you, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Don’t worry about payment.” She gives him a smile and Jaehyun doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

“I was really hoping y/n here could do it?” You didn’t really know what to say. Why Jaehyun was specifically requesting you was odd. If he thought there was something between the two of you last night, he was sadly mistaken. The last thing you wanted was to be subjected to his banter.

And Jaemin wouldn’t let that happen anyways.

You exchange a hesitant glance with Jaemin, who stands beside you, his jaw set. When you look at Jennie, you can tell her heart deflates a little.

Jaehyun's request hangs in the air, and you feel a knot of unease tighten in your stomach.

"How about we all help?" Jaemin's voice cuts through the tension, his words a veiled warning to Jaehyun.

With a forced smile, you nod in agreement, grateful for Jaemin.

All four of you walk over to where Jaehyun’s car is parked, buckets and sponges in hand. Jaehyun persistent gaze lingers on you, and when Jaemin catches him staring at your ass, his anger flares up again.

When you bend down to place your bucket by your feet, Jaehyun leans in a little too close, his voice dripping with perversion as he addresses you directly. "I must say, y/n, I've been looking forward to spending some time with you again."

Your stomach churns at his words—the implication is clear, no matter how polite he tries to sound. This isn’t what you signed up for

With a subtle shift, Jaemin steps forward, effectively intercepting Jaehyun's advances. "Let's get started," he declares, his tone authoritative.

The task at hand becomes a welcome distraction, the rhythmic swish of water against the car offering a momentary reprieve from Jaehyun’s flirtation.

Well, until he opened his mouth again.

"So, have you always been this skilled with your hands?" Jaehyun's voice comes from behind you and when you look at him, you catch him smirking. "Or is it just with cars?"

Jaemin snaps.

"Okay, you know what?" he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, hurling his bucket onto the ground with a loud slap. "I think we’re done here."

Jaehyun smirks. "What, can’t take a joke?"

Jaemin takes a step forward. "Oh, I can take a joke just fine. But here’s the thing—I don’t think Y/N finds you very funny."

You blink, caught off guard, and Jaemin doesn’t miss it.

Your heart breaks a little for your roommate. It was apparent that Jaehyuns move on you hurt her even more. And there was nothing you could do about it because you made this happen. It was your fault.

Jaemin doesn’t care to listen to Jaehyuns stammered out apology. You don’t either. You just let Jaemin grab your hand and tug you down the path. The pile of his clothes from earlier lies forgotten on the ground, completely abandoned.

Like last time, Haechans shoes sit tauntingly at the front door.

Unlike last time, Jaemin wastes no time in dragging you to his room, closing the door, and locking it.

His words come out in a low growl while he paces the room, “Don’t know why that guy thinks he can flirt with you like that. It’s so fucking weird. I mean, I know you look good,” he stops mid rant to look at you, eyes widening at the small bikini barely covering your exposed body, “So fucking good…but that doesn’t mean he can be a perv.”

Yeah, okay, hypocrite.

“Jaemin.” You whisper.

He throws a hand out, back to pacing. You watch his muscles contract and ripple with the force of his breathing. It didn’t make sense why he was getting so worked up.

“No, I get it. He’s a good-looking guy. But you…He shouldn’t even think about you. It’s like you’re here.” Jaemin puts a hand up over his head, and one far below his waist, “And he’s down here. You’re way too good for him.” Jaemin lets out a breathless chuckle, “And to do it in front of me, no less. Bastards got some really big balls.”

You barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The way he’s talking, you’d think Jaehyun was a bridge troll. Sighing, you sit back on the bed, not caring if you get it wet. “Not that big.” You mutter to yourself.

He ignores you again.

And you’re about sick of it.

“I mean, could he have been any more fucking pathetic? ‘Have you always been skilled with your hands? Or is it just with cars?’ Like what kind of shit is that. Any pickup line he could’ve chosen and he went with that?”

Jaemin's words echoed off the walls, his frustration palpable in the air, while you come to the realization that your slightly damp bathing suit was rather uncomfortable to be lounging around in.

And perhaps if he saw you without the bikini top, he’d finally stop his ranting and do something useful.

Like, say, fuck you into next week.

Because watching Jaemin pace shirtless, ranting about how other men didn’t deserve you, looking like he was one sentence away from going full caveman and staking a claim— well, it made you all hot and bothered.

You hated to use that phrase, but it was true.

With deft fingers, you unfastened the ties of your bikini top, the fabric slipping from your shoulders as you held it aloft in your hand. With a swift and calculated motion, you tossed it gently in Jaemin's direction, the fabric fluttering through the air before landing squarely on his path.

"Hey, what the—?" Jaemin's voice trailed off as he stooped to pick up the discarded bikini top, his confusion giving way to amusement as he held it up before him. "Well, well, well..." Jaemin turned towards you, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like you're missing something there, sweetheart."

You meet his gaze, feeling light and playful, warmth bubbling in your chest at the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s finally snapped out of his irritation and sees you for what you are: his.

“Oops! Must’ve slipped off,” you quip, stretching out lazily on the bed like you’ve got all the time in the world. “Thanks for catching that for me.”

Jaemin’s laughter fills the room, shaking his head as he steps closer, tossing the bikini top back in your direction, the fabric landing softly at your feet.

"Anytime," Jaemin replied, his tone biting.

His gaze drags down your body, taking his time, drinking you in like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. His jaw tenses as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He tilts his head, voice dipping lower, more serious now.

You smirk, confidence flooding through you at the way he’s looking at you—hungry, wanting, aching. “I think you’re talking too much.”

Jaemin exhales a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying to hold onto the last bit of restraint he has left. Then, in a blur of movement, he’s on you—one knee pressing into the mattress, hands grabbing your hips, dragging you toward him like he owns you.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice laced with something dark and promising.

And you can’t fucking wait.

His mouth is on you before you can even breathe, kissing you with enough force to knock every last coherent thought from your mind. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin as he presses you down beneath him.

“You wanna tease me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, nipping at your bottom one. “You wanna throw your little bikini at me like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

You hum against his mouth, hands slipping up his bare chest, nails raking lightly over his toned muscles. “What if I did?”

Jaemin groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

His hands move fast, slipping beneath your body to grip your ass, lifting you against him. You can feel the heat of him through his swim trunks, his hardness pressing right where you need him most. The sensation makes you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

Jaemin takes the sound as an invitation, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, pausing only to suck a mark into your collarbone before moving lower. His lips trace over the tops of your breasts, teasing, never quite where you want him, and it makes you squirm beneath him.

“Jaem—”

He tuts, dragging his teeth over your sensitive skin. “Patience, pretty girl.”

His tongue flicks against your nipple, a slow, agonizing tease before he finally closes his lips around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp wave of pleasure through you.

Your back arches instinctively, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and Jaemin groans at the sound, switching to the other breast, lavishing the same attention before continuing his descent down your body.

He pauses just above the waistband of your bikini bottoms, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. “You gonna stop me?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. “Not a chance.”

Jaemin smirks, fingers hooking into the damp fabric, slowly peeling them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time.”

Jaemin doesn’t waste time.

One second, you’re sprawled beneath him, breathless and burning from the way his lips and hands explore your skin, and the next, you’re being lifted. A startled gasp leaves you as Jaemin hauls you up effortlessly, arms securing you against his chest like you weigh nothing.

“Jaemin—”

You barely get his name out before your back meets the wall, his body pressing flush against yours, caging you in. The cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, sending a shiver down your spine. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his shoulders.

Then you realize which wall he’s pinned you against.

The one that separates his room from Haechan’s.

“Haechan.” You murmur.

Jaemin freezes for half a second before his grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper into your thighs where he holds you against the wall. His eyes flick to yours, dark, curious.

"God, why are you so fucking worried about him?" His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring you to say more.

"I-I just don’t want him to hear us," you whisper, even though your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Jaemin’s lips curl into a slow smirk, his hips rolling just enough to remind you of the position you’re in. "You know what?"

"What?" Your breath hitches when his hands shift, pressing you harder against the wall.

"Let’s play a game." His voice is low, dripping with amusement. "It’s called ‘don’t get caught.’"

Your stomach flips, heat rushing through you. "How do you p-play?"

Jaemin leans in, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, voice nothing but a sinful whisper. "Well, I get to fuck you against this wall, and you have to try and keep your pretty little mouth shut."

Oh.

Oh, no.

Your pulse spikes—not just at his words, but at the absolute confidence in his tone. The way he’s so sure he’s about to ruin you.

Which, okay—fair assumption.

But keeping quiet?

With Jaemin?

You were already losing.

Your head falls back against the wall with a quiet thud, a shaky breath leaving you as his words sink in. You shouldn’t be this turned on. Not by the risk, not by the idea of Haechan being just feet away, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.

But you are.

And Jaemin knows it.

"You like that idea, don’t you?" He tilts his head, pressing a soft, taunting kiss to your jawline before dragging his lips down the side of your throat. "Bet it makes you even wetter."

You let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into his shoulders. "Jaemin—"

He cuts you off by rolling his hips again, pressing the hard length of him right against your core. A strangled sound catches in your throat, and his smirk only grows.

"Shhh, baby," he coos, mockingly sweet. "You wouldn’t want him to hear, right?"

Your face burns, but you still can’t find it in yourself to stop him. You don’t want to. The thrill, the way Jaemin looks at you like he wants to devour you—it’s all too much.

His lips ghost over your collarbone, hands gripping tighter. "You trust me?"

You swallow, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah."

Jaemin hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "Then be a good girl and take everything I give you."

His hands grip your thighs tighter, pressing you further into the wall, the cool surface grounding you for all of two seconds before he shifts his hips and drags the thick length of him against your soaked core. The friction alone sends a shudder through you, and Jaemin chuckles lowly, completely aware of how wrecked you already are.

“You really don’t want him to hear, huh?” His voice is dripping with amusement, teasing, as he rolls his hips again, letting the head of his cock nudge against your entrance but not pushing in. “Then you better keep those pretty little noises to yourself.”

You swallow down a whimper, biting your lip as your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Jaemin, please.”

He hums, pretending to think about it before shaking his head. “Nah. I like hearing you beg.”

Without warning, he pushes in, stretching you open in one slow, torturous thrust. Your breath catches in your throat, body tensing at the sheer pressure of him inside you. Jaemin groans at the feeling, forehead pressing against yours as his fingers dig into your skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice rough. “So tight for me.”

Your nails scrape down his back, mouth parting as you struggle to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The stretch is too much, too good, and Jaemin knows it. He gives you a second to adjust before rolling his hips again, thrusting deep, setting a pace that has your head spinning.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, each movement pressing you harder into the wall, the force of his thrusts making the drywall creak. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as Jaemin buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.

“Jaemin—” You choke on your own voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“Shhh,” he warns, nipping at your jaw. “Don’t want our best friend knowing you’re getting dicked down by your other best friend, right?”A deep thrust punctuates his words, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jaemin pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something possessive. “But, since you can’t keep quiet, how about you open that pretty mouth and moan a little louder, yeah?” His smirk is wicked, taunting. “Give him a taste of what he can’t have.”

Your whole body tenses, shame and arousal intertwining into something dangerously intoxicating. “Jaemin, you’re such an ass—”

“But you love it,” he interrupts, grinning. “You love knowing he’s right there. That he could hear if you get too loud.” Your walls clench around him involuntarily, and Jaemin groans, his grip tightening on your hips. “Yeah, just like that. Let him know exactly how good I make you feel.”

You try to fight it, try to keep yourself quiet, but Jaemin’s pace is merciless, dragging pleasure out of you with every snap of his hips. Your thighs tremble around his waist, nails leaving half-moon marks on his skin as the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter.

“Go on, baby,” he coaxes, voice pure sin. “Let him hear you.”

Jaemin can feel you unraveling, your legs tightening around him, body trembling with every deep thrust he drives into you against the wall. But he’s not done.

Not even close.

With one last punishing snap of his hips, he pulls back, arms still secure beneath your thighs as he carries you away from the wall. You barely have time to whimper a protest before your back hits the mattress, the shift so sudden that it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jaemin hovers over you, eyes glazed, lips slick and parted as he drinks in the sight of you spread out beneath him. “Thought I was gonna let you off easy?” he taunts, gripping your chin between his fingers. “You should know me better than that.”

You barely have a second to respond before he flips you over, forcing you flat on your stomach, his body pressing over yours. A warm, heavy weight settles at the nape of your neck as he leans in, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby?” He drags his cock through your slick folds, teasing, making you squirm. “Still so fucking wet for me.”

A strangled whine leaves you, and Jaemin chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

Then, with no warning, he thrusts back inside you, punching a moan from your lips as your fingers fist into the sheets. The angle is brutal—deeper, sharper, every inch of him dragging against your walls in a way that has your mind short-circuiting.

Jaemin doesn’t ease into it. He’s lost now, completely caught in the way you take him, how your body sucks him in like you were made for him. His bicep curls around your throat, locking you in place, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you senseless.

“Look at you,” he groans, his jaw slack, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of you both. The reflection is obscene—your body rocking against his, his arm flexing where it holds you still, veins peeking from beneath his flushed skin.

His grin spreads, animalistic, as you let out a choked sound, your face growing hotter the longer he keeps you in that hold, pressed against hard muscle, body burning from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You can take it, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand dragging down your spine, pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

His pace falters for half a second—just a fraction—before he lets out a shuddered breath, head dropping against your shoulder. He’s losing his grip, caught in the way you clench around him, how perfect you feel.

“She’s so pretty,” he thinks to himself, mind spinning, thoughts slurring as he fucks you through his own haze. “Need to—fuck—need to breed her.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive growl ripping through him as he drives into you harder, deeper, lost in the only thought circling in his head:

Jaemin is gone.

There’s nothing left in his head but you—the way your body squeezes him so perfectly, the way your voice breaks every time he thrusts deeper, the way you’re letting him ruin you.

His grip around your throat tightens just a little, keeping you pressed against him, keeping you where he wants you. His breath is ragged, uneven groans slipping past his lips as he watches the way your mouth parts, the dazed look in your eyes reflecting in the mirror.

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, thrusts turning erratic, desperate. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you down as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t—shit—can’t hold out much longer.”

You don’t think you can either.

Your entire body is trembling, pleasure pooling low in your stomach, so tight it’s unbearable. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel the way Jaemin is slamming into you, his muscles flexing beneath you as his control slips entirely.

“J-Jaemin—”

“Yeah, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I know. Just—fuck, just let go for me.”

And then—

A loud bang shakes the wall.

Your eyes snap open in horror, and Jaemin stills for half a second before a voice—Haechan’s voice—cuts through the air.

“Can you two shut the fuck up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

A sharp, startled gasp rips from your throat, but Jaemin—Jaemin just laughs.

The sound is low, deep, cocky, vibrating against your back as he picks up his pace again, rolling his hips into you with new determination. “Oh, baby,” he taunts, voice dripping with amusement, “you hear that?”

You can’t respond—you’re too busy trying to not completely fall apart, but Jaemin doesn’t care. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles that make you arch into him, keening.

“Guess he heard after all.” His voice is rough, laced with a breathless chuckle. “Pretty girl getting fucked so good she’s keeping Haechan awake? And she likes it?”

You shake your head wildly, but your body betrays you, walls clenching around him so tight he nearly chokes on his own moan.

“Oh, you do,” Jaemin groans, thrusts turning punishing. “God, you fucking do.”

You can’t take it. The pressure, the tension, the way everything is building so fast—

“Jaem—”

“I got you, baby,” he grits out, fingers moving faster, hips snapping against yours. “Come for me. Come with me.”

One last thrust—deep, perfect, devastating—and you fall.

A choked cry slips past your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot pleasure consuming you whole. Your entire body convulses, squeezing Jaemin so tight he snaps, burying himself to the hilt as he follows you over the edge.

A guttural moan rips from his throat as he spills inside you, hips jerking in short, stuttering thrusts, riding out both of your highs. His arms tighten around you, holding you through every pulse, every tremor, every aftershock that leaves you utterly spent beneath him.

The room is thick with heat, with the sounds of heavy breathing, with the weight of what just happened.

Jaemin should stop.

He should be too spent. But he’s not. He can’t be.

Even as he shudders against you, panting against your shoulder. Even as his arms tremble from holding you so tight. He’s still moving. Still rolling his hips into you. Slower now but deeper, grinding himself into your swollen, overstimulated walls like he never wants to leave.

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, voice wrecked. Your body still twitching from your orgasm.

He groans; mouth hot against your neck. His breath is ragged. “Just a little more,” he murmurs. Desperation thick in his voice. “Just—fuck—just let me give you all of it.”

His pace picks up again. Sharp. Desperate thrusts drag overstimulation through you. Making you gasp. Making you cling to him. He’s whining now. His breath hitching as he forces himself through his own sensitivity. Chasing something only he understands.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. His forehead presses into the crook of your neck. “So fucking perfect—fuck—”

His body is shaking. His fingers bruising where they grip your hips. His thrusts erratic. Mindless. Every muscle in his body working toward one thing—

Filling you up. Making sure you get all of him.

His jaw slackens. Eyes flutter shut. His head drops back. His mouth parts around a helpless moan. “God, baby—taking me so well—taking all of it—”

And then he’s coming again.

His whole body seizes. A wrecked cry breaks from his lips as he spills into you. Warmth floods deep inside you. Making your head spin. His hips jerk. Pushing himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches with every last pulse. Every last drop he forces into you.

He’s whimpering. Gripping you tight. Hips stuttering through the aftershocks. Milking himself dry.

It’s too much. Too good. You don’t even realize you’re moaning his name again until Jaemin shudders and collapses on top of you.

The weight of him. The heat of him. The feeling of him still buried inside you. It’s all too much.

But you don’t want him to move.

Neither does he.

The warmth of Jaemin’s body lingers against yours, the weight of him heavy, grounding. His breath is still uneven, ghosting over your shoulder as his chest rises and falls in ragged intervals.

For a moment, neither of you move. The room is thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and sex, with the quiet hum of something that feels good. Right.

But then, Jaemin shifts.

His muscles tense beneath your touch. His hands, once gripping you like he never wanted to let go, loosen and slide away. Before you can register what’s happening, he’s pulling out, the loss of him sudden, leaving you sensitive and dazed.

You recline comfortably on the bed, the softness of the sheets embracing you like a warm hug. Jaemin stands by the door, his bare torso glistening in the soft light filtering through the window. With a mischievous grin, he slips out of the room, leaving you alone.

As the front door creaks open, confusion flits across your mind. Where could he be going, and why now? Your thoughts race with possibilities, each more curious than the last. You strain your ears, trying to catch any sound that might offer a clue. Did he really just leave the fucking dorm?

Minutes stretch into eternity until, finally, the door swings open once more, and Jaemin steps back into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. In his hands, he carries two plastic take out bags, their savory aroma filling the air.

“I ordered us food when we were on the way back,” Jaemin announces with a grin as he approaches the bed, setting the tray down before you. “I got you chicken nuggets!”

It’s two am when you’re jolted awake by nothing in particular.

You suspect it has something to do with Jaemins low snoring – just softly into the shell of your ear. His arms are slung around you, one curled over your hip, the other underneath your neck acting like a makeshift pillow. Despite his hard lined muscles, he was surprisingly soft.

And it all felt a little too domestic.

Not that that’s bad – but it’s Jaemin you’re talking about here, and when did he ever do domestic.

As you lay there, a subtle panic begins to creep in. You couldn’t stay the night. Not when you were wide awake and freaking out over him cuddling you. But the sheets were so warm – he was warm – and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes and just sleep.

No. You couldn’t. No matter if you wanted to or not.

Carefully disentangling yourself from Jaemin's embrace, you glance at the clock, anxiety settling in as you calculate the time it would take to slip out unnoticed.

The room is dimly lit – just enough for you to fumble through the pile of clothes on the floor and find his clothes you were wearing earlier. It’s kinda shitty that you’re stealing his clothes and dipping at the same time, but you don’t think he’ll mind.

You grab your phone off the desk and stuff it in your back pocket. Now was the tricky part – opening the door without it creaking and waking up the entire dorm floor. But just as you reached for the doorknob, Jaemin's voice broke the silence. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, his eyes barely visible in the dim light.

Startled, you turned to face him. Of course, he’d wake up and ruin your attempted escape plan that you spent five minutes freaking out over.

Jaemin sat up, his expression unreadable.

"I didn't want to be here when Haechan woke up." you explained in a hushed tone.

Jaemin nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. "You don't have to sneak out, you know. It's not like you're one of my hoes. You're a friend, and you can stay as long as you need. You can crash on the couch if you want?"

Surprised by his nonchalant response, you stammered out a thanks. "I really should just get back. Haechan asks too many questions. Plus, he already thinks something up because of the outfit thing.” You sway awkwardly in front of the door, “By the way, with the clothes and everything, I’ll wash them and bring them back when I can…"

Jaemin interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Friends help each other out. It's not a big deal."

Relieved, you thanked him again. When you’re about to turn around and book it, Jaemin's speaks up, catching you off guard.

"Are you going to Jeno's hockey game tomorrow?" he asked, a casual note in his voice.

You nodded, "Yeah, I was planning to."

"Great," Jaemin replied. "Get home safe, Y/N. See you tomorrow."

With that, he rolled over, settling back into bed. His fluffy pink hair being the only thing you could see.

Well, that was a lot easier than you thought.

When you get home, the first thing you do is sit on your bed and stare at the wall.

Because what the fuck just happened?

You fucked Jaemin.

Like—actual, real-life, no-going-back, holy-shit-it-finally-happened fucked Jaemin.

It still doesn’t feel real.

Like, there should have been a warning, some kind of celestial sign that this was the day you’d cross that line. Maybe an earthquake. A shooting star. Haechan suddenly becoming abstinent from redbull.

Something.

But instead? You’re here, legs still wobbly, brain still fried, and the most whorish man you’ve ever met is currently leading the leaderboard of the best dick you’ve had in your entire life.

So, naturally, there’s only one thing left to do.

You grab your journal.

Like Haechan’s rating, there isn’t really a system—just gut feelings, raw statistics, and some level of pettiness. But that doesn’t matter.

Pen scratches against the paper as you start taking notes.

Points for multiple orgasms. (Your soul left your body at least twice.)

Points for teasing. (Menace. Absolute menace.)

Points for reassuring you. (Somehow both the softest and filthiest man alive.)

Points for talking you through your orgasm. (What the fuck was that? Like, actually?)

Major points for acting like everything was normal after. (Like he didn’t just ruin you against a wall.)

And finally, points for ordering takeout after. (Chicken nuggets? Unreal.)

After much deliberation, it’s decided. Jaemin receives a 9.3/10.

You pause.

Then suddenly scribble in an extra half point for Haechan and his voyeuristic ass at the library, bumping him up to a 7.9/10.

For a moment, you debate adding Jaehyun. He wasn’t part of the challenge, but keeping a record of all your endeavors might be beneficial.

Beneficial for what, you don’t know.

Still, after a minute of deliberation, you write his name down. And next to it?

1/10. So sad. Too bad.

With a satisfied sigh, you lean back and admire your work.

Congratulations, Jaemin.

You are currently ranked as the number one best fuck in the friend group.

For now.

Everything’s fine.

Everything is jussssst fine.

Except the two boys – your best friends to be precise – are sitting on either side of your body in a densely packed stadium, and perhaps your adrenaline is at an all-time high.

Like, who even cares that you took Haechans virginity. And honestly, fucking Jaemin was going to happen sooner or later…he was running out of fresh bodies on campus.

Right?

Right??

“You want a hotdog?”

Jaemin, clad in an NCTU hockey jersey, turns his attention to you, breaking you out of your thoughts. His pink hair falls into his eyes and you resist the urge to brush it away.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You mumble. It felt like he’d caught you in something. For a moment, you wonder if he could tell you were slightly panicking.

But if he did, he doesn’t show it. He just gets out of his seat and starts heading up the concrete stairs towards the concession stand.

Haechan watches him leave, voice whiny, “Why didn’t he offer to get me one.”

Alone now, the crowd's buzz envelops you, the distant echo of cheers mingling with the hushed anticipation of halftime. Haechan's disappointment hangs in the air like a lingering question mark, drawing your attention to the empty seat beside you.

“Want to grab one yourself?” you snark, gesturing towards the concession stand where Jaemin disappeared into the crowd.

Haechan huffs, crossing his hands over his chest, “No need to be mean.”

Jaemin returns ten minutes later, clutching a steaming hotdog wrapped in foil. The aroma wafts through the air, triggering a wave of nausea that swirls in your stomach like a tempest. He settles back into his seat beside you, a grin lighting up his face as he unwraps the hotdog with eager anticipation. “Missed out, huh?” he teases, gesturing towards the now-opened concession.

You manage a weak smile, trying to ignore the churning in your stomach. “Yeah, looks like it,” you murmur, your voice strained against the rising discomfort.

As Jaemin takes a bite, relishing the taste of the hotdog, you fight the urge to turn away, the scent overpowering your senses. Each breath feels heavier, laden with the aroma that now threatens to engulf you.

Desperate to escape the suffocating smell, you rise from your seat, a wave of dizziness washing over you. “I think I need some fresh air,” you mutter, your words barely audible over the crowd’s clamor.

Jaemin’s expression shifts, concern flickering across his features as he watches you retreat. “You, okay?” he calls after you, the worry evident in his voice.

You offer a weak nod, a feeble attempt to reassure him as you navigate through the throng of spectators. You don’t notice Haechan following behind until you pass security and step out of the arena doors.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the cool night air, “You sure you’re okay?”

Your steps falter for a moment, “Yeah,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of cheering within the arena. “Just needed a breather.”

Haechan nods, his gaze unwavering as he studies you. In the quiet stillness of the night, the distant echoes of the game fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths.

“Thanks for checking on me,” you offer, gratitude genuine in your voice.

A soft smile graces Haechan’s lips, “Just because you’re mean to me doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and once again, you’re reminded of what Mark said, ‘It meant so much more to him’.

You want to believe that he’s saying this as your friend. That it’s just a friendly gesture and nothing more. But one look at his face tells you it’s not. This is something he’s been wanting to say for a while – and your stomach coils at the thought.

“Haechan.” How were you supposed to navigate this…this rejection. “We can’t do this.”

He doesn’t bother teasing you. Doesn’t bother pretending like he doesn’t know what you mean.

"I know," he murmurs, "I just had to say it." There's a palpable ache in his words, as if they’re restrained. Oh, there’s so much more he wants to say.

"I appreciate you, Haechan," you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze meets yours, and you fight the urge to back track on everything you just said. The look is broken beyond repair – his water line already filled with tears that threatened to spill on his honey gold cheeks.

“Y/n.” he starts, taking a step towards you. When he reaches his hand out, aiming to land on the side of your cheek, a touch that was surely to end in a kiss, you take a hesitant step backwards.

“Haechan, don’t,” you murmur, the words catching in your throat like a plea for understanding.

His hand hesitates mid-air, fingers curling back as if recoiling from the sting of rejection. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own turmoil.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread, "I didn't mean to push you."

You swallow thickly, “We can’t.”

“But we can.” He counters, taking another step towards you. His eyes search yours for any ounce of longing. It couldn’t be one sided. It couldn’t. “Just give me a chance, please.” His voice breaks on the last words and so does your heart.

This was so out of the blue. You came to watch Jeno’s hockey game, and instead you’re breaking your best friend’s heart. Why did you have to be the bad guy all the time.

Haechan reaches for you again and this time you have to brush his hand away. “We can’t.” You affirm. You hated this. “I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong idea­–”

“So, it meant nothing?” His voice is rising, eyes swimming with anger, with hurt, “Everything that happened, everything we did…it meant nothing?”

“It didn’t mean nothing, but we already discussed–”

“Yeah.” He spits angrily. “I remember. Trust me I do. I lay awake at night going over that fucking conversation like clockwork. Over and over and over again. I’ve been getting drunk just to stop thinking about it.” His hands tear at the roots of his hair in frustration, “Fuck, y/n, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Haechan…” You want to reach out, give him a hug, get your friend back. Something. Anything.

He takes another step forward, grabbing your shoulders, grip tight with desperation. “Please. I need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad. It’s killing me.” You think he’s about to lean in for a kiss, but he just cocks his head to the side, “Please.”

Your heart clenches as his words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You're thankful that this side of the stadium laid empty, because onlookers would have made this so much worse.

“It was a one-time thing.” you mumble, voice firm despite the tremble in your words.

“But it wasn’t.” he whispers, “The library, remember? That’s how I know this can’t just be a me thing. You have to feel something too. I know you do.”

 "I..." Your voice falters, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Haechan, I care about you, but..." The words catch in your throat.

Tears glisten in his eyes as he takes a step back, the anguish written across his face. “Y/n…”

“Don’t say it, please, don’t say it.”

But the words tumble from his lips, a final plea, “Y/n, I love you.”

Everything comes to a crescendo, sounds and thoughts clashing together. The choked sob rips from your throat, and you let it. You let him see the pain you were feeling too. But you couldn’t return his testament. You couldn’t.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice is strong, even if the tears were streaming down his face and his throat felt thick, “I do.”

What the hell were you supposed to do. He wasn’t listening to you.

“Haechan, go home.” You plead. He couldn’t keep this up. Not here, not now. But he stands there, rooted in place, his gaze fixed on yours with a fierce determination that sends shivers down your spine.

“You have to feel the same.” He murmurs, more to himself than you.

He wasn’t going to stop this until you broke his heart completely. You might be the villain, but he wasn’t giving you any opportunities to be the hero here.

“I don’t.” You declare, not bothering to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t. “I don’t love you, Haechan. I never did, and I never will. I’m sorry.”

Avoiding his gaze, you hear him laugh bitterly. He spits on the sidewalk and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “Wow.” He breathes, “Jennie was right. You really are a cold, stone-hearted bitch.”

What? Jennie?

You don’t have the opportunity to ask him what he means, because when you look back up, he’s already walking away, his figure fading into the night like a ghost.

He should have never followed you. Should have kept his mouth fucking shut. How could he be so stupid? To think you’d want him the same. What did he expect? That you’d throw yourself at him? That you’d accept him as yours. He should have known girls like you didn’t want to be tied down. Especially not to guys like Haechan.

Tears blur your vision as you watch him go, the weight of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to hold it together, but the floodgates open, and you're left gasping for air amidst a torrent of emotions.

Haechan's accusation echoes in your mind, a painful reminder of the fractures in your facade, the cracks in your carefully constructed armor. You overthink every word, every action, wondering if you truly deserve the label he's bestowed upon you.

You told him on night one that this wasn’t going to be anything. That it couldn’t. Yet, he was still hopeful. You ruined him.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of defiance ignites within you—a reminder that you are more than the sum of his accusations, more than the pain etched into his departing figure.

His hurt is not your own.

You just hope you haven’t lost him forever.

With trembling hands, you wipe away the tears, steeling yourself to go back into the stadium. You didn’t want to. You wanted to go home and cry until you passed out with puffy eyes and a stopped-up nose. But Jaemin was waiting for your return, and Jeno needed you as his good luck charm.

You couldn’t disappoint everyone tonight.

When you return to your seat, Jaemin immediately knows something is wrong.

He shoots you a concerned glance, but you brush off his constant questions. You admit that Haechan went home, but you lie, saying it was because he was feeling sick.

As the hockey game continues before you, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to focus on the action unfolding on the ice. Not even when Jeno nearly gets into a fight with the opposing team does it manage to capture your attention. You merely watch the refs get between the clashing boys, holding on to Jeno’s fist that was already bloody from beating on the other guy’s helmet.

Jaemin doesn't press you further either, deciding to leave you alone entirely.

You only half-heartedly clap and cheer when Jeno scores the winning goal, securing victory for the NCTU hockey team. The crowd erupts in hoots and hollers, but your mind remains elsewhere.

As the final buzzer sounds and the crowd begins to filter out of the stadium, you and Jaemin make your way to the plexiglass that separates the rink from the seats. The victory celebrations fade into the background as you focus on finding Jeno amidst the chaos.

Finally spotting him, you and Jaemin exchange a glance before pressing your hands against the cold surface of the plexiglass. Jeno's eyes meet yours, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph reflected in their depths.

"Congratulations," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but the genuine warmth behind your words is unmistakable.

Jeno offers a tired smile, his fist bumping against the glass in silent acknowledgment.

That was all you could do before his coach started yelling for him to get in the locker room. Watching him skate away, you turn to Jaemin. “You going home?” 

Jaemin looks at you, concern etched into his features. “Yeah, do you need me to walk you home?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, I think I’ll wait around for Jeno,” you reply, “You can go ahead.”

Jaemin studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance. “Are you really okay?” he asks.

He knows something is up. He wished you would just tell him.

You offer a weak nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I just... I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Understanding flickers in Jaemin’s eyes as he steps closer, wrapping you in a comforting hug. “I’m here if you need anything,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the confusion raging within you. You cling to the embrace for a moment longer, drawing strength from the warmth of his presence. And as you pull away, a sense of resolve settles over you.

He walks away with a smile, his steps echoing through the nearly empty stadium. Turning back to the locker room, you wait patiently for Jeno, your heart heavy with anticipation. Minutes stretch into eternity as you watch the hockey players leave one by one, the coach giving you a curious glance but saying nothing.

With a deep breath, you gather your courage and approach the locker room door. “Jeno?” you call out.

The door creaks open, revealing Jeno’s tired face. “Come in,” you hear him say faintly.

You push open the door and see him sitting on a wooden bench surrounded by dark blue, metal lockers. The one in front of his hunched figure is open, hockey gear spilling out. Jeno sits shirtless, nursing the hand that was bleeding earlier.

In the dimly lit locker room, silence hangs heavy between you and Jeno at first, each of you lost in your own thoughts.

“You were amazing out there,” you finally say, breaking the silence. He had been amazing, even if you hadn’t been paying attention – too caught up in Haechan’s admittance.

Jeno meets your gaze, gratitude shining in his tired eyes. “Thank you,” he replies. “The team is going out to celebrate,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “Are you... are you going with us?”

“Didn’t know I was invited,” you laugh.

He cracks a smile too, “Well, I wasn’t going to go, but I will if you go with me.”

You consider it for a second but shake your head. “I’m a bit tired. Probably just gonna go home.”

Jeno nods, “Same. I’ll probably just go back and smoke.”

You sense a shift in the atmosphere of the locker room. Something calmer – less high-tension. Jeno's next words catch you off guard.

“My coach really thinks I’m going to get scouted for the NHL,” he says, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in his voice.

“That’s amazing,” you reply, “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

He leans forward and reaches into the locker, retrieving white gauze. Carefully, he unwraps the roll and starts to tightly wind it around his hand. You want to help him, but you didn’t know how. You were far from the medic friend ­– that was Jaemins job.

“I know.” He replies, “Means I gotta be on my best these next few games though.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You murmur.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, so you decide to sit next to him on the bench. When you sit down, he leans into you. His chest was burning, despite the frigid temperature, and you feel the heat seep through your jersey. Despite playing a long game, he smelled good. Like cologne and mint. A good combo.

He starts humming some random tune, and you find your eyelids drooping. You were beyond tired. Beyond emotions. Beyond words. If anything, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. The comforting presence of being beside one of your best friends in the entire world.

Before you know it, Jeno is shaking your shoulder. “Y/n.” He murmurs. You snap your eyes open, and his face was dangerously close to yours, “You dozed off.” A smile breaks out on his face, and a heat creeps up your spine.

“S-Sorry,” you blurt, standing up a little too fast. The room starts to spin and Jeno has to grab your shoulders to keep you from falling down.

“Are you okay?” He questions, eyes piercing your own.

You rub your eyes tiredly, “Yeah, I’m just…fuck, I don’t know Jeno, I just feel off.”

Jeno's brow furrows with concern, and he pulls you into a comforting embrace. In that moment, everything you’ve tried keeping hidden away for the last hour, tumbles out, and you find yourself completely losing it, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest. He doesn't know what to do at first, his arms awkwardly encircling you as you cry. But then, with a gentleness that belies his strength, he brings your face into his hands and asks softly, “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t know,” you manage between sobs. “I just... I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do.”

His thumb brushes away your tears, his touch a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. And looking up at him, you realize this is what you need. Not clingy like Haechan, not overly sweet, like Jaemin. You needed strong, steady, understanding.

You needed Jeno.

You don’t know if it’s genuine. Or if it’s the challenge. Or if you just welcomed the distraction, but words are tumbling from your lips before you know it. “Kiss me.”

He's so close. inches away, no, centimeters away. His breath, warm and enticing, mingles with the taste of mint and ice. The room contracts as he leans in. you open your mouth, he opens his.

"I can't, not like this," the words hang, lingering in the air. Tension doesn't dissipate; it transforms, a subtle shift in the locker room. "I'm not Jaemin."

“W-what?”

You may not be Jaemin, but don’t worry Jeno, you’ll get your turn.

A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)

TAGLIST. @newdeobi @jijihyunah @saintlyhyuck @mrkis @peachjaem00 @angelwonie @aliceinwhateverland @cabaretyun @allaboutthedongs @donutswithjaminthemiddle @bundleleeknow @sunshinedhyuck @kuingjuing @haechanalpha @thiccfullsun @jenoxygen @ishireads @greentealatte97 @aquamxrina @whymarkieyournameismark @marklexleaf @its-taeil-time @j4d @dearj43 @roohnyk @stargrll13 @hykwrld @leeluc @haechie @xuxisins @rainyjeno

[lascvitae]

❦ — the beginning of an era

synopsis. after landing a main role in an upcoming kdrama, y/n moves away from home to fulfill her dreams. upon arrival, it seems that her co-star has taken a newfound interest in her.

pairing. actress!minjeong x actress fem!reader genre. fluff(?) warning(s). none.

word count: 1.3k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: okay so i wanna make this a mini series and i have a few ideas in mind but if you guys have any scenarios or ideas then please don’t hesitate to send an ask!!



series masterlist.

it was around twelve pm once y/n finally landed in the heart of south korea, miles away from home for one of the first times ever.

almost a month earlier she received a call that changed her life. she had been casted the main role of an upcoming kdrama and while she had to move to a serviced apartment in the city, it was everything that the girl dreamed of doing since the age of five.

ever since that point she had starred in musicals, as background extras, side characters and even the younger version of main characters. yet with all of that experience, it felt like something was missing. something that she had just found.

the countless billboards gave her a glimpse of the bright future ahead— there were tons of famous celebrities, some who she couldn’t even name. but there were definitely a few that stood out the most.

there was jun jihyun, who owned numerous awards for her talent and not too far away was song hyekyo. everyone that y/n laid her eyes upon had a high level of fame and it filled her heart with hope for what was to come.

today was the day she would meet her co-stars and the place that she would be calling ‘home’ for the next few months.

leaning against her luggage as she patiently waited for the vehicle to arrive, a few buses passed by to pick up the other pedestrians. only one bus caught her attention.

plastered onto the side of the bus was one of the most well-known actresses in the industry — kim minjeong. y/n studied the advertisement for a lip balm with an intrigued smile. she could already see her own face on the side of a limousine bus.

minjeong wasn’t only known for her amazing performance on camera but also due to her kind-hearted nature. there probably wasn’t a single/ bad video of that girl on the internet. even if you hated some of her characters, it was impossible to hate her. though, most co-stars would mention that she is ‘slow to warm up’ and can even come off as rude or bratty at times.

a black suburban parked in front of y/n, snapping her out of her out of the mini-daydream, reminding her that it was now her turn to leave her mark on the world.

while y/n strolled her luggage towards the trunk, a man dressed in a black suit and tie cane around to grab everything for her. “let me grab this for you.” the man extended a hand, carefully taking the luggage with ease and securing it into the back. “thank you.” y/n muttered.

once he assured that his precious cargo was settled, the vehicle began to move and y/n let out a breath she had no idea that she was even holding.

all of the buildings that seoul fostered allowed a crumb of homesickness to sink in, wiping the smile clean off of her face. she looked down at her phone, seeing the message from her mother and best friend, aurora.

rory 💓

‘i miss u already 🥺🥺 u better text me everyday!!’

Sent 9:37 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥

‘Don’t overwork yourself, honey. i’m always one call away if you need me. -Mom’

Sent 6:17 AM

my queen bee ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

‘I’m here to support you in any way you need.’

Sent 6:17 AM

the messages resulted in a pout and y/n decided to put her phone away before a tear could form, forcing herself to look outside of the window.

to her surprise, the car came to a stop a while ago and she hadn’t even realized it. the driver was already working at her luggage, opening up the door for her.

“thank you.” she held her purse as she eagerly stepped out of the vehicle, mouth agape from the tall building that stood before her. while y/n had achievements of her own this felt like a new key to stardom, there were even intimidating bodyguards standing at the entrance. there were paparazzi surrounding the building but it didn’t seem like they could get in.

y/n felt a rush of relief at the security system implemented.

with a singular look they granted the two of them access and they were on the way to the elevator.

the interior of the lobby was gorgeous, decorated with long chandeliers and colors along with gold that were visually perceived as expensive. almost every single intricate detail caught y/n’s eye as they settled into the spacious elevator.

“is this your first big role?” the driver, or what he seemed more like, the assistant asked y/n. she smiled nervously. “could you tell?”

he shrugged, not wanting to offend the girl. “a little bit. don’t worry, you’ll love park seonho. he’s a great director.”

her eyes nearly popped out of her skull.

she had only met the casting director so this was news to her — park seonho was one of the directors that y/n had respected the most. it gave her so much motivation for the show that she had to hold back a squeal.

once the elevator ding indicated that they had made it to her floor, y/n followed the man to her new apartment.

“um, how do these work?” she sheepishly asked as the door swung open, her mouth following quickly behind.

the apartment was huge — and it wasn’t short of how luxurious the lobby was decorated. there were more seats in the living area than y/n could have imagined herself needing, she had just moved away from her hometown after all. the only person she knew was the mother of the baby that couldn’t keep quiet in the plane seat next to hers. all she could do was gasp as they walked further inside.

“i don’t have much information on that part. your neighbor arrived about an hour ago. she’s your co-star.” he set down all of y/n’s luggage before heading for the door.

“by the way, you can call me mr. kim. i’ll be your driver for the next six months, miss y/n.” the girl bowed as he introduced himself, and just as quickly as he arrived, he had departed.

the spacious apartment building left y/n speechless and so that she couldn’t procrastinate about it later, she began to unpack all of her bags. her mystery neighbor proved to be a powerful distraction, though.

to fulfill the never ending curiosity, y/n swiftly traversed to the door adjacent to her own. with three knocks, she put on the brightest smile managable.

after a few seconds passed the door finally swung ajar and y/n wasn’t sure of what she recognized first. the short blonde hair, the rosy pink lips or the shirt that revealed a sliver of the girl’s infamous abs.

“hello.” she greeted with a bow, instantly recognizing her co-star. at this moment y/n realized that she was staring, or even gawking at this point. but how could she not? it was none other than kim minjeong.

“h-hello.” she returned the bow, blinking to confirm the girl before her eyes.

curiosity piqued, minjeong’s lips curled into an interested smile. “i’m looking forward to working with you…” she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“y/n.”

“y/n. perfect. i’m min—“

“i know who you are, it’s okay! i’m — um, i’m looking forward to working with you too.” the smile on her face widened. “of course.”

y/n chewed at her lower lip. “so, uh, how do these work exactly?” minjeong seemed slightly confused before she understood the question and why you were asking it. “it’s like a hotel. housekeeping will stop by every wednesday and it should already be fully furnished. at least, i hope that was the case.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she was nervous or if she genuinely found her words funny but a light hearted chuckle escaped the lips she had been nibbling at. “it was. thank you, minjeong.”

“no need.” she offered another kind smile. “you know where to find me. you should settle down.” the door closed shortly after that and y/n could feel her heart trying to escape the restraints of her chest, hitting herself in the head a few times.

“why did i stutter like that?” the whispered sentence was only audible to her as she glanced at the end of the empty hallway before hiding inside of her apartment. y/n had just made her first friend in korea. kim minjeong. one of the most talented women in the country.

and they were neighbors.

the next six months were going to be a roller coaster.

perm taglist — @saysirhc @aedollie @prologue-ae

[pukefactory]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ THE WOLF JUMPED OVER THE MOON ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

⏾⋆ Summary: Caregiver Shadow Milk Cookie X Little Reader Headcannons

⏾⋆ Character(s): Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

⏾⋆ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

⏾⋆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⏾⋆ Image Credits: @virtualjpg & @sisterlucifergraphics

✶ Shadow Milk Cookie thrives on attention, and what better way to entertain than by putting on a private show just for you? With a flick of his staff, reality bends, colors swirl, and you find yourself seated in the front row of an ever-changing wonderland. Every puppet, every illusion, every carefully orchestrated trick is designed to draw out your giggles and make you clap your tiny hands in delight. And when you shy away behind your stuffed animal during a “frightening” act? He gasps in mock offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh, my dear, you wound me! Would I ever allow harm to befall my littlest audience member?”

✶ The shadows may twist and leer, but under his watchful eye, they will never touch you. If you whimper in your sleep, caught in the grip of a nightmare, Shadow Milk Cookie is there in an instant. His presence is cool yet reassuring, his voice a hypnotic lull as he plucks the bad dream from your mind. With an elegant flourish, he molds it into a harmless wisp, then crushes it effortlessly in his palm. Just like that, your nightmare is nothing more than a forgotten agony.

✶ Feeding time is nothing short of a theatrical production, a grand spectacle where he plays both the cunning villain and the reluctant hero. “Oh, what’s this? A spoonful of magic, stolen from the forbidden lands? But alas! It can only be consumed by the smallest of royals!” He gasps dramatically, watching as you take a bite, before clapping his hands together. “Ah, magnificent! A spell well-cast, a potion well-taken!”

✶ Unlike others who offer warm embraces, Shadow Milk Cookie’s affection is like the whisper of the night—cool, weightless, yet entirely enveloping. When you curl up in his lap, he idly trails his fingers through your hair, humming a tune from a time long forgotten. His coattails wrap around you like something alive, weaving into a shadowy cocoon. His illusions dance gently across the walls, their soft blue glow soothing and mesmerizing, lulling you into a deep state of relaxation.

✶ Toys? Oh, sweetheart, why settle for mere trinkets when he can conjure an entire carnival at will? With a snap of his fingers, shadowy beasts prance, carousels spin, and puppet shows unfold at your command. And when exhaustion inevitably claims you, when you collapse onto the floor, breathless and drenched in sweat from an evening of boundless excitement, he merely chuckles. “Tired already, little wolf? How very fragile you are,” he teases, though there’s an undeniable fondness in his voice.

✶ His voice is silk, spun with secrets and silver-tongued tales. When bedtime arrives, he weaves stories of ancient Cookies and forgotten lands, threading truth and illusion together until they are indistinguishable. You listen with wide eyes, clinging to his sleeve as he smirks knowingly. “Ah, but is it real? Or is it merely a shadow of what once was?” he muses, watching as curiosity sparks in your mind. When sleep finally takes hold, your dreams are strange, surreal, and entirely entertaining.

✶ Tantrums? Oh, how amusing. He watches with an amused tilt of his head as you stomp your feet, clench your fists, and grit your teeth in frustration. But the moment your anger dissolves into tears, the act is over. In an instant, he is by your side, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. “Oh, my poor little wolf, has the world been so cruel to you?” He wipes away your tears with a flick of his fingers, turning them into harmless, shimmering sparks that float away. Holding you close, he lets his presence soothe your frayed emotions, allowing calm to settle over you once more.

✶ When the world feels too big, too loud, too overwhelming, Shadow Milk Cookie knows exactly how to shift your focus. A snap of his fingers, and the shadows spring to life, performing elegant, intricate dances just for you. With a grand flourish, he places his hat atop your head and bows deeply. “Ah, but now you are the Master of the Show! Tell me, dear little one, what spectacle shall we conjure next?”

✶ Though he mocks, deceives, and delights in chaos, there is one truth he will never twist: you are his, and that is final. Anyone foolish enough to attempt to take you from him soon finds themselves ensnared in a nightmare of his making—a web of illusions so perplexing, so dizzying, so mercilessly disorienting that they forget what they were doing entirely. He won’t even let them think again. If that is too cruel, well, they should have known better than to cross him. When he returns to you, his expression is soft, his smile serene, though there is an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. He says nothing, but you know something has transpired, even if he refuses to tell you what.

✶ For all his grand performances, for every illusion spun from shadow and light, there is only one audience that truly matters. When you clap your tiny hands at his tricks, when your laughter rings out in delight, when you reach for him with unguarded trust—when you snuggle the little blue wolf plush that bears a striking resemblance to him—he feels something he cannot name. Something old. Something warm. He chuckles, lifting you high into the air before pressing a fleeting kiss to your forehead. “Ah, little wolf, your applause is truly music to my ears!”

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Jealously (Azriel x Reader)

Word count: 3200

Mor and the reader have a plan in place to make Azriel jealous, but it backfires instead.

               You sighed, resting your elbows on the kitchen counter and placing your face into your hands. “Mor- please, don’t start this.”

               “I’m not starting anything, Y/N.” Mor disagreed, stirring the tear in her mug with a spoon. “I think I’m finally ending this pining game that you are putting yourself through.”

               “I don’t pine.” You mumbled, hesitating before peeking through your fingers. Mor rolled her eyes, taking a sip. “Fine, fine. Maybe I do, but can you blame me? He is the perfect male.”

               “I don’t blame you, but I also don’t know what you see in him besides his looks.” Mor teased, reaching out and pulling your hand from your face. “I’m just kidding, and you’re beautiful, Y/N. Any male would be lucky to have you.”

               You gave her a small smile, feeling the blush start from your chest and snake its way to your cheeks. She laughed, grabbing your cheek and giving it a squeeze. “But seriously, my plan is perfect. Watch this.”

               “What do you mean?” You asked, but she gave you a look and leaned back down on the counter, stirring her tea.

               “I just really think you should shoot your shot.” Mor giggled, and Azriel walked into the room, not even looking between the two of you. “Maybe you should do it at Rita’s tonight, you know we always see him there.”

               “Mor-stop!” you blushed harder, slapping her and looking down. Azriel didn’t even stop as he strolled through the room and out the other door. “See I told you, he wouldn’t care.”

               Mor gave you a devious smile, “this plan has multiple parts my dear, planting the seed of jealously is only part one.”

               “I am not wearing this!” You screeched, looking in the mirror. You were wearing one of Mors signature red dresses, but the slit went so far up the leg you couldn’t even wear proper undergarments. “Seriously-no.”   

               “Seriously, yes.” Mor sat on her bed, her own dress on and hair done. “We are going to go out, have a good time, and maybe find you a new male to flirt with.”            

               You stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous but also… hot. You turned, looking at yourself over your shoulder as Mor smiled from behind you, leaning back and crossing her long legs. “Are you sure?”   

               “Duh, lets go!” Mor grinned, hopping off the bed and grabbing her clutch and your arm. You tried to keep up with her quick pace, but in your heels that was never going to happen. You nearly fell, but caught yourself just in time for Azriel and Cassian to walk into the hallway.

               Their gazes landed on you, Cassians eyes grew wide and both males physically stopped in their tracks.  “Boys- don’t wait up for us, the adults are going out.”

               “Y/n!” Cassian whistled, causing you to turn a deep scarlet. “Have fun out there, where are you going?”

               “None of your business, this is a girls only event.” Mor teased, grabbing you and pushing past the two large males. Azriel’s eyes locked on yours for only a second before glancing away, no expression on his face. “But if you need to know- we’re going to Ritas!”

               You two arrived at Rita’s not too long after, grabbing a drink and sitting in a booth. You watched everyone dance around you, you never really did this with Mor, you were more of a reader, not a dancer. You sipped your drink, your eyes darting around nervously. “Soooo…is this a part of your plan too?”

               Mor sipped from her drink, finishing it off and setting it down. “Come on, lets dance!”

               “I don’t dance.” You argued, regretting leaving the house. This was so silly, this was not your scene.

               “Look who just showed up.” Mor grinned at you, raising an eyebrow. You turned, watching the dark figure walk in through the door. You were surprised, Azriel was here without being forced? That was a first. You smiled, going to wave at him but then realizing that he… someone was grabbing his arm, pulling him away and towards the bar. Not just someone, a beautiful fae with long blonde hair and a huge smile.

               Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach as you watched Azriel give her a small smile back, not pushing her away but instead following her to the bar. Your smile fell and you could feel a wave of nausea flowing through you. “Mor, he’s with someone.”

               She frowned, eyes squinting at the pair at the bar. She quickly picked up her drink and put the straw to your lips. “Take a drink and lets get your mind off him. He’ll be out of here before we know it.”

               You nodded, numbly grabbing the straw and sipping the rest of your drink and setting it down on the table. You followed Mor out to the dance floor, and after a few minutes of awkward swaying, you could feel the alcohol kick in and your nerves give way.

               “See, aren’t you having fun?” Mor laughed over the loud music and crowd, grabbing your hand and giving you a twirl. You spun easily, laughing as you felt the dizziness wash over you. You grabbed the clip from your hair, shaking out the loose waves that you had done before.

               “I think I am having fun actually.” You smiled at her, twirling her back. “Let’s get another drink!”

               You two made your way over to the bar, and you gave a big smile to the bartender as he poured you another drink. He slid it across the bar, leaning over and placing his hand on yours. “You come around here often?”

               “No, I definitely do not.” You laughed, not pulling your hand away and instead brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “What about you?”       

               “I do work here, so I would say so.” He retorted, a smirk on his face. You looked down in embarrassment, but his warm finger reached under your chin, forcing you to look up into his brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

               “Isn’t that a little personal?” You teased him, pushing his hand away playfully and grabbing your drink. You took a sip, looking up at him through your lashes. As you did so, your eyes drifted to the left, where you spotted Azriel and the girl sitting next to him.

               Azriel’s hands were clenched at the bar, his drink untouched. The girl next to him was still talking, but Azriel gave no inclination he was listening, his eyes boring into yours. Dark, dazzling, angry. “It’s just your name, doll.” The bartender stepped into your view of Azriel, giving you another dazzling smile. You physically had to shake your head, trying to get the thought of Azriel out of your mind. You were here to get over him!

               “Y/N.” You smiled, “I’m going to go dance, but I’ll be back.”

               “You better be.” The male winked at you, making you smile again as you found Mor again on the dance floor.

               You danced your heart out with Mor, swinging your hair around until you were covered in a light sheen of sweat. You laughed so hard your abs hurt, but your heart still felt a pang every time you saw her sitting at the bar with Az.

               Eventually the night came to an end, and you walked up the bar, Azriel and the girl had both left, you wonder if you would see her at home. The thought made you sick to your stomach. “It was nice meeting you.” You smiled at the male; he smiled back as you sat in one of the stools. He took a rag and was cleaning the inside of a glass when you spoke again. “I…I think you’re very attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I am ready for any type of relationship, even one for the night.”

               He looked at you, nodding in understanding as he placed one glass down and picked up another. “I admire your honesty.” He answered, “I don’t know if I’m in the right place either for that type of relationship, Mor got me this job to help me move on from my past life…including my ex. I’ve been trying to do things the right way.”

               You nodded, and he sighed, looking around. “Speaking of her- where is she?”

               “I think she left.” You replied, “She was talking to someone, and I think I saw them walk out only a few minutes ago.”           

               “Figures.” He snorted, placing down the last glass and looking around. “I can’t let you go home alone, grab your coat, I’ll Walk you.”

               “I’m really fine.” You laughed, grabbing your coat and putting it on. “I can defend myself pretty alright.”

               “Oh I���m sure.” The male chucked, grabbing his coat from under the bar and shrugging it on. “I’ve heard the stories about you, I heard a rumor that you once killed someone with just one finger.”

               You laughed out loud, bending over to contain to hold your stomach. He turned off the light, chuckling to himself as you both made your way to the door. “I totally did not do that.”

               “I don’t know- It did sound like a pretty convincing rumor.” He teased, you were met with the cold blast of air outside and the earliest signs of dawn in the sky. You heard the door lock, and he turned back to look at you. “I heard one minute the guy was standing, and the next, you were standing over him, finger in the air.”

               “Oh shush!” You pushed him, laughing again. “What finger was it? I need to know.”

               “That’s the best part.” He grinned down at you. He leaned down towards you, his lips coming close to your ear. “Your pinky.”

               You pushed him away, smiling and blushing. “No way!” you pushed your hair back from your face again, a grin on your face as you looked up at the male. In the light, you could see his sharp cheekbones and pointed ears, and the boyish blonde hair that was neatly combed on his head. “Thank you, for tonight. The drinks were great, and I had a lot of fun.”

               “I can seriously walk you home.” He offered, pointing in either direction. “What way are you?”

               “Seriously- I can do it.”  

               “I can’t let you walk home alone.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “now are we going left or right?”

               “That won’t be necessary.” A gruff voice replied, you jumped, turning and watching Azriel come out the alleyway.

               The male immediately took three steps back from you, looking between you and the shadowsinger. “Got it, I’ll…I’ll see you next time, Y/N?”

               “Of course.” You smiled at him, giving the male a small wave as he quickly walked down the alley. Once he was out of eyesight, your eyes turned to glare at Azriel. “What was that for?”

               “You said no, he didn’t respect that.” Azriel said flatly, “Let’s go home.”

               “I don’t need to be walked home!” You angrily stomped, arms flying to your chest in annoyance. “And why did you have to be so mean? He was nice and just wanted to make sure I got home safe!”

               “I can make sure you get home safe, Y/N.” Azriel rolled his eyes, his shadows moving around his frame. His wings were tall and spread, blocking the view of the alley behind him. “And, let’s be honest Y/N, you would be protecting him more than him protecting you. That male was useless.”

               “Us-Useless?” You raised your eyebrows, “Okay Mr. Judgemental, thank you for your opinion that I did not ask for. He was fine, he was great actually, thank you.”

               “Oh really?” Azriel’s eyebrow rose, “You met him while he was bartending at Ritas, what do you know about him that makes him great?”

               “He makes good drinks!” You shouted, angrily balling up your fists and bringing them to your side. “And…And he was nice! And honest!”

               “Oh honest hm?” Azriel rolled his eyes again. “let’s go home Y/N.”

               “I’m not walking home with you.” You seethed, trying to walk past him but he held out his arm. “Get out of my way.”

               “He wasn’t the type of male you want, Y/N.” Azriel moved, stepping in front of you and looking down. “His family has a history of being abusive towards females, you could do better.”

               You froze, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How would you know that? And how is that any of your business?”

               “I make it my business to know the males that you make company with.” Azriel’s eyes grew darker, and he moved out of your way. “Let’s go home.”

               “What type of male should I look for then?” You countered, crossing your arms again and leaning, one hip out. You could feel the cold air on the slit on your dress, but maybe it was your anger, but you didn’t care. “Tell me, what kind of male should I look for?”

               “Not someone like him!” Azriel’s hand flew in the direction that the other male had walked off, “You need someone who can protect you at the very least!”

               “Oh protect me?” You laughed, you started to walk past him, slightly pushing him. “Get a hold of yourself, I can protect myself just fine.”

               “Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to!” Azriel countered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to look at him. “You need someone that has your back, someone that will always take your side.”

               “or maybe I need someone nice.” You replied, trying to rip your grasp from him. “Nice and honest.”

               “You don’t want nice, you don’t care about nice.” Azriel’s eye darkened, you could feel his shadows moving around his arms.

               “Tell me what I need then.” You ripped your arm away from him. “Since you seem to know it all, just spit it out already.”

               “You need someone that will fight for you, someone that would wait for you, someone that would kill for you or do anything you wished. Someone who would fly across the the fucking courts just to be able to see you.” Azriel seemed out of breath, his eyes boring into yours with intensity.

               You stared back at him, eyes narrowing and a frown forming on your lips. You thought of the girl he was with, at the bar, and felt your heart drop back into your stomach. “So you’re saying I need someone like Cassian?”

               Azriel’s eyes went wide, and he backed up a few steps, running his hands through his hair. “Do you…do you feel for Cassian like that?”

               “Of course not!” You shouted, crossing your arms. “I just have no idea who else you could be referring to-“

               “Me!” Azriel shouted, pointing towards himself. “I am referring to me!”

               “You don’t mean that.” You whispered, your hands started to shake slightly.

               “I do mean that.” Azriel replied, his scarred hands coming back to his sides as he stared at you. “I had a hard enough time watching you with that useless male, please do not make me watch you and Cassian.”

               You stared at him, a million thoughts racing through your head at once. There was no way, Azriel..Azriel was with that girl.         “Who were you with tonight?” You placed your hand on your hip, trying to ease the shake. “You two seemed awfully close.”

               “I don’t even know who she was.” Azriel rolled his eyes, “I was outside Rita’s for nearly an hour before she grabbed my arm and told me that she was a friend of Mors and brought me inside.”

               “Why did you go to Ritas?” You countered, and he looked around, shrugging almost like he was embarrassed.

               “I…fuck Y/N.” Azriel grabbed the bridge of his nose again, “Mor had told you to shoot your shot, then you’re putting on this scrap of fabric and telling everyone you’re going to Rita’s, of course I’m going to go.”

               You stared at him, the sun was beginning to rise behind him, casting him in a glow. “You… you were jealous?”

               “Yes, I was jealous.” Azriel growled, “I wanted to rip that males hands off when he touched you.” Your heart pounded in your chest as Azriel glared at you, he still seemed angry. “When you first came out here, I thought you were going to go home with him. I think I might have actually killed him.”

“I was jealous too.” You admitted, slowly walking the few steps over to him so you could look up at him. “When I saw you with that that girl… and she was touching you, and she was so beautiful, I thought I would be sick.”

               His eyes shone with honesty and a bit of emotion that you had never seen from him before, vulnerability. “I don’t think I looked at her.” He whispered, his hand slowly moving to tuck the piece of hair that fell in front of your ear. “I just spent the whole night wishing I could dance with you like Mor was, or flirting with you as easily as that male was.”

               You grabbed his hand, feeling his calloused one under your own. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again Az.” You whispered, and he nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted another male, I compare- I compare them all to you.”

               “As do I.” He replied, leaning his head down slowly. You could feel the words he spoke on your lips, “You were the only one made for me.”

               His lips met yours, slowly and deliberately, and you didn’t pull away from the kiss until you needed to get some air. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread from your neck to your face.

               “I’ve been waiting for you to blush like that for me.” Azriel teased, using a thumb and stroking your face. “Now, let me walk you home.”

               While you and Azriel spent the day making up for lost time, Mor got out of the house and went back to Ritas. She smiled at her old friend Jason, who placed a water in front of her and smiled back.

               “That little plan of yours almost got me killed, you know.” Jason grabbed a towel, cleaning a glass as he normally did when making conversation. “Who was the girl you had come in with Azriel?”

               “Someone else who owed me a favor.” Mor smiled, sipping on her drink.

               “Well…did the plan work?” Jason asked, setting the cup down.   

               “Unfortunately, I think it worked too well.” Mor scrunched up her face in disgust. “They were at it all night long.”

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 – 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

teaser – taglist: open!

engineering major!jake x nursing student fem!reader

୨୧ genre: angst & smut, strangers to ? |  estimated word count: ~8k | release date: tba ୨୧

info: this can be read as a standalone or as the prologue to bandaids!

hanna says: although this fic is far from being done, biggest thank you to @brklynbabyjay for letting me yap about it 24/7 & reading everything i wrote for this so far and to @jayparked for a looot of reassurance, for helping me with the plot and even putting me onto the title. this one would absolutely not be possible without you <3

mature content under cut, minors dni!

────────────────────

“J-Jake,” you mumble out, your fingers tightening the grip on his hair, pulling a little harder – just enough to create the perfect sense of pain. Jake opens his eyes and looks up to you, the sight alone enough to make him bring a finger up to your leaking hole while his tongue keeps focusing on your clit. Your eyes are shut almost a little too tightly, your eyebrows firmly pulled together, and your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, although that’s barely enough to muffle your pretty moans and whimpers that Jake so badly needs to hear.

It’s almost pathetic how his heart skips a beat at just how easily his finger slides in, how with each pump of it, he can practically see the air getting knocked out of your lungs. When he closes his lips around your clit to gently suck it between his teeth and your head falls back, perfectly displaying the dark red spots he left there so carelessly just minutes ago, he can’t help but let his free hand slip under the soft fabric of his sweatpants, palming his pulsating length through his boxers.

A low groan escapes his lips, sending a wave of vibration through your core that has you bucking up your hips. The movement forces Jake’s eyes shut, his hand almost instinctively leaving his own body and instead reaching for your hip to pull you even closer to his face. 

The second he opens his eyes, the bright rays of sunlight that peak through his curtains force him to squeeze them shut again – only to be met with the same image: you squirming underneath him, legs shaking around his head that you desperately try to pull closer.

Suddenly, his usually loose shirt feels too tight, his light blanket too heavy, and he’s hyper aware of the way his dark bangs stick uncomfortably to his sweaty forehead. He forces his tired lids to lift again and slowly sits up, leaning his back against the headboard of his bed and running his hand through his hair first and then over his face. 

With a sigh, Jake tugs at his shirt, loosening it from his body in an attempt to cool down. His eyes scan the room – books carelessly scattered across his desk, clothes piling up on the chair and his training bag with his favorite pair of boxing gloves dangling from it – searching for anything that could distract him from his painfully throbbing hard-on.

Yet, as if he isn’t trying so hard to think of anything other than you, his gaze lands on a few loose papers piling up on the edge of his desk: The notes he took during last week’s statistics class, looming over him like a cruel reminder of the deal that got him into this very situation in the first place.

Back then, when you mutually agreed to help each other, when he promised to send you his notes in return for you taking care of his bruises whenever practice got too rough.

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2025. please do not copy.

comment to be added to bruises taglist | join my general taglist here

[violetasteracademic]

A little birdie told me the Elriel tags were in desperate need of some good vibes and unhinged smut, so dropping by to sprinkle a slutty lil one shot!

Summary:

Elain escapes to the Dawn Court for one evening, hoping to ease the pain of her broken heart with the distraction of a ball. But Azriel, the very shadowsinger she has sworn to forget, has followed her. And he isn't too keen on letting other males put their hands on the Night Court seer.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Rough sex, exhibitionism, mild pain/power dynamic kink, orgasm denial, breeding kink, garden fucking, yes literal hedge maze fucking, unhinged jealous possessive Azriel and Elain loves it, it's basically just kinky. But very beginner friendly! (er... in my opinion. I guess let me know if I'm wrong about that lolol)

This fic was inspired by Deep End by Ali Hazelwood for @yourstarsmyscars and all the girlies who went insane for Lukas Blomqvist as a modern day Azriel.

Read the fic here

Preview below the cut.

“Elain,” Azriel called after her, but she didn’t slow down. Not until she managed to shove her way through the crowded ballroom and burst out into the garden for a breath of fresh air. “Elain, stop.”

“You’re giving me orders now?” Elain spun on her heel. “What are you doing here, Azriel?”

Azriel’s nostrils flared. “I’m making sure you’re safe. Someone obviously needs to.”

Elain’s jaw fell open, then quickly snapped closed. She was right, then. He’d been sent after her. It stung more than she cared to admit. “I am perfectly safe. Not that it is any business of yours. You can tell my sisters there is nothing to worry about.”

Azriel’s gaze briefly flickered in confusion at the mention of her sisters, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by an icy rage. “Oh really?” Azriel moved in on her, forcing her to retreat until the stone wall halted her movements. “Damon Thatcher is a sniveling creep. There is no way in hell I would let you accept a drink from him.”

“Let me?” Elain’s chest heaved. How dare he? “You don’t control what I do and don’t do Azriel. I will dance with whoever I want and drink champagne with whoever I want, and you don’t get to say a damn word about it.” 

She shoved at his chest, but he snatched her wrists in his hands and pressed her into the wall.

“Not him,” he said, so low and quiet her breath hitched. “Promise me it won’t be him. He’s an ass.”

Elain took a deep breath, trying desperately to clear the fog from the heat of his body and the light, heady buzz from the champagne. “Why does it matter to you?” 

Azriel’s pupils blew wide and his breath sawed through his chest. But he didn’t say a single word.

Elain’s heart was caving in. She couldn’t stand to be this close to Azriel. To breathe in his scent and feel his eyes boring into her, as if he would die if he couldn’t touch her. But he had already proven that wasn’t true. It was a mistake. He never wanted her in the way she thought. So why was he doing this?

“You don’t want me, but no one else gets to have me either? Is that what this is?” She shook her head and turned away, desperate to keep him from seeing the tears forming. “It seems like the only ass here is you, Azriel.” This time, he didn’t stop her when she shoved him away.

It broke something in her. After all this time, she still held on to some fragile hope that she hadn’t imagined everything between them. That the crazed and desperate look she sometimes saw in his eyes wasn’t just… Well, whatever it was. She had no idea anymore. But it hurt too much to try to understand.

“I won’t accept a drink or another dance from Damon,” Elain said over her shoulder. “I… I didn’t like the way he made me feel. But I am not leaving here alone tonight, Azriel. I can’t bear another night alone. So, please. Don’t interfere again.”

Her hand had just barely begun to reach for the knob when darkness swarmed around her.

She landed hard against a cold stone wall, and gasped for breath when the shadows faded and revealed a small fountain surrounded by hedges. Elain had seen the large hedge maze in the Dawn Court gardens, and briefly considered how romantic it would be to sneak quietly away if she indeed found someone she could attempt to distract herself from Azriel with. But it was Azriel himself gripping her wrists and looking like a half crazed animal.

“Azriel,” Elain hissed. “What are you doing?”

“No,” he choked out. 

“No what?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

[midnightshindig]

That Cecil’s kid one was amazing! Could we get a version where Cecil was unfortunately too busy with work to be there for his kid? Maybe they grow up to resent him a little and eventually secretly end up working with the Mauler Twins, Angstrom, etc (maybe even Viltrumites if you’re willing), for their own personal gain, or what ever reasons you see fit? Take your time! Sorry in advance for this request being kinda long :)

Cecil & Villain!Child!Reader

Oh my god i've been wanting to do this request for so long!! Thank you for submitting it!

hcs under the cut

Your mother died young, being a superhero did that.

You never hated her for it, for protecting others and for doing her best

but you couldn't help but resent her a little for who your father was

or rather, who he wasn't

Father was a generous term for what Cecil was. He was a lot of things

Head of the GDA, most powerful non-powered civilian on Earth, a badass ex spy and a great diplomat and genius

but he was NOT a father

you both knew it.

You barely knew the guy, being raised by a nanny specifically for superpowered children like yourself

You saw him occasionally at dinner, but that was maybe once a month.

He, for safety reasons, didn't want the world to know the two of you were related

so naturally, when you had a big baseball game, or your schools talent show cropped up, or even when you landed a main role in your senior play, he "couldn't" attend

Oh sure, it was taped and streamed to him, but you knew he never watched.

So was it really any surprise when you weren't jazzed about becoming a superhero?

When, throughout your final year of high school and the two years after, you befriend the Mauler Twins?

Even supervillains are allowed pen pals in prison, and they made such compelling ones for you to correspond with

It was a fun guessing game as to which twin had written what, and over the course of three years, the three of you had become something akin to friends

They gave you advice on what your major should be, how to handle the stress of college, and shared anecdotes from their own lives

It was hard to imagine them as normal people once, but they made a convincing story

You knew it was likely supervillain manipulation, but they seemed interested in your life, I mean, its not like they had tv

So you would detail your day-to-day life, sharing your frustrations with Cecil and the GDA as a whole

"What an asshole." the three of your would agree

Maybe you three could work together? It was an idea brought up frequently.

So honestly, you weren't really all that surprised when they showed up at your house after getting broke out of prison

Your powers were marginally useful, the ability to phase through walls and be invisible.

It was USEFUL, but not terribly flashy.

Either way, it made stealing things with them incredibly easy.

Cecil didn't notice when you stopped coming home

god knows he was never there

he did notice, however, when the Declaration of Independence went missing

and when GDA specialty supplies went missing

and when the schematics for all sorts of government wherewithal went missing.

"Donald- what the FUCK is going on?!" Cecil demanded, watching the surveillance streams

"Uh- Sir, you need to see this-" The feed was cut and changed to the news

The Mauler twins, business as usual. Whatever.

But-

"OH my god- Y/n?" Cecil put a hand to his head, pacing back and forth

He thought you'd moved out- maybe with roommates or a partner or something- but this?

Oh fuck....

Cecil teleported to the scene, the Mauler Twins and you attempting to break into the White House once more.

"Y/n! Get over here!" Cecil called out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice

you ignored him.

The Guardians of the Globe arrived

and realistically there wasn't a way they could tell them "oh leave that one alone its my offspring."

And so, as all good things go, your villainous spree ended with you in GDA's supervillain prison.

"Why? I want to know why." Cecil sat across from you with his hands folded

"God- what do you care?" you spat back, your hands cuffed and an anti-power collar around your neck

"Because, Y/n, you're my child and I care about you. At the very least I don't want you in prison."

"You didn't even know I had powers."

"Of course I did!"

"You knew I could phase through walls, but being invisible? I've read the files, Mom couldn't do that. And you had no idea I could."

Cecil sat in silence for a minute. Processing.

"Is that what this is, Y/n? Rebellion?"

You shook your head, rolling your eyes "Of course, everything I do is to appease or piss off a guy I don't even know."

"I'm your father, Y/n."

"Fuck off." your glare was cutting, and the tone in your voice oozed venom with every syllable.

"The Mauler Twins helped me enroll in community classes, they gave me advice about being an adult and how the world works. They listened and were happy for me when I graduated. They sent me a shitty graduation card with the supplies you give them in prison. To be clear- these guys were in prison and they showed up more than you did."

Cecil literally couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Y/n, you're only eighteen, you need to rethink thi-"

"I'm twenty."

Cecil blinked, standing up and going to the door, speaking with Donald through the door before returning

"Twenty.... wow...."

You leveled another glare at him "Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun." your tone was sarcastic, and your disdain apparent.

"Look. I'm sorry for being a bad father, but you're a criminal."

"So? Lock me up, throw away the key. Just fuck out of my life, you were doing so good until now."

Cecil let out a long, drawn out sigh. Feeling twenty years of disappointment in a single moment "Y/n, I know I never took the time to know you, but know this. I don't waste potential."

...

"Go fuck yourself, Cecil."

Bonus!:

The Mauler Twins are being interrogated for their involvement with you

they don't usually take accomplices, so the GDA wanted to know why

instead all they got were violent outburst about your location

"Where is Y/n?! They are INNOCENT damnit! My Clone will agree-!"

"I'm not the clone. But as the ORIGINAL, I demand to know where Y/n is and that they are safe!"

The twins are assured of your safety, but do not calm down until surveillance footage of you and Cecil's interrogation is shown to them

This puts them at ease, as they continue to testify to your innocence.

The GDA has never seen them so concerned about anyone other than themselves

"We will gladly serve our time- god knows we will always find a way out- but Y/n is innocent, release them this instant!"

[si3nn4]

Part 1 Part 2

It’s been a month. A whole month since Katsuki and you parted ways.

"FINE THEN! JUST LEAVE, KATS, JUST GO!"

The words echoed in his mind, mingling with the slamming of doors, the heated exchanges, the desperate cries, and the sight of you standing there—broken. He sat there now, in the suffocating silence, unable to escape the heavy weight of his own regrets.

You— you—were never the type to complain, and Katsuki wasn’t either. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what the hell you’d been arguing about in the first place. Was it his endless work hours? No, that didn’t sound right.

“Why do you put so much effort into them when in the end, I’ll be the one broken if you leave, Kats?”

And there it was. That haunting moment finally resurfaced. Katsuki had returned home from a mission, his body still riddled with the remnants of a brutal fight, only to find you waiting for him. The house had never felt colder.

“Love.”

His voice barely reached you, hoarse and worn from the day’s battles. The moment you saw him standing there in the doorway, your eyes widened in shock. Blood still trickled from his head, his hands clutched his side as though holding in some broken part of himself. Katsuki hadn’t gone to the hospital like he should’ve. He didn’t even care. He only wanted to get to you—he had to see you.

But the moment he stood in the entrance, shoulders hunched, silence blanketing the room, he watched as your face crumbled.

Your eyes—bloodshot red with worry—shattered him. He saw you fight to keep it together, forcing yourself to hide the pain. But it was useless. The dam finally broke, and the flood of emotions poured from you.

“Why sacrifice yourself for honor when I’m the one left to torture myself to sleep every night, wondering whether you’ll survive?”

The words landed like a punch.

Katsuki felt it deep in his chest, as though his heart cracked open right there. You continued, your voice trembling as the anguish bled into each word.

“What’s the point of honor if you end up dead one day, Kats? What about me? What do I do if you don’t come back?”

He felt the full weight of your despair crash over him. No mission, no fight could ever compare to the toll it took on him to see you in this state—helpless, broken.

Out of every battle he’d ever fought, every war he’d endured, this was the one he could never win. Don’t misunderstand him. His heart belonged to you. It always had. But in that moment, overwhelmed by the exhaustion of his mind and body, Katsuki made a decision he would never, ever forgive himself for.

“Then move on. Not everything is about you, okay?”

Fool. Fool. FOOL.

His head fell into his hands as he replayed those words, as if the regret itself might crush him. Your eyes—wide with disbelief—still haunted him. He could see you, then, how you slowly pulled away, how you shut yourself off from him. The pain of it was unbearable.

Your scoff—that scoff—rang in his ears, relentless.

“Your right. How selfish of me.”

You stepped closer to him then, hands clenched so tightly together that your knuckles turned white, but you held his gaze, unflinching.

“But it’s pretty selfish of you to propose to me if in the end, your loyalty isn’t mine.”

His fists clenched in response. The words stung, sharper than any blow he’d ever taken.

“Enough of this. I’m tired.”

He tried to end it, his voice strained, as though the very act of speaking was pulling at the last of his strength. But you—no, you weren’t done.

“NO! HOW CAN YOU IGNORE MY PAIN? TELL ME, KATSUKI, WHY MARRY ME AND PROMISE A FUTURE OF HAPPINESS WHEN I HAVE TO BE HAUNTED WITH YOUR LACK OF PRESENCE?”

Tears filled your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold them back. He could see it—see the battle you were fighting within yourself to remain strong.

“I SAID ENOUGH! YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHAT MY JOB REQUIRES OF ME! MY LOYALTY IS TO THE PEOPLE, TO THEIR SAFETY! I MUST SUPPLY THEIR HAPPINESS AND FUTURES!”

“AND WHAT OF MINE?”

That one question—the one that cut deeper than anything else—still haunted him. It looped endlessly in his mind, a cruel reminder of his failures.

His loyalty had always been to the people. But in that moment, Katsuki had forgotten. He’d forgotten what really mattered. His loyalty as a husband, as a person—he’d abandoned it all in the name of duty. He’d forgotten you.

And now, he’d lost you.

[mischievousmoony]

I’m blushing so hard at frat boy James!! What about the first time she comes over and meets the guys outside a party

hope i've done your idea justice! ty for requesting

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.9k ⟢ warnings/tags: references to drinking, technically american!james potter and american!marauders

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"It'll just take a minute," James promises. "We'll be in and out."

With his hand in yours, he leads you through the door, passing under the large Greek letters as you cross the threshold.

You have been seeing James for a month and a half. You never thought you'd be interested in a frat guy—you've never even step foot in one of their houses until now—but James has proven to be the opposite of what you thought a frat guy would be like.

James is a total sweetheart. Possibly the most thoughtful and genuine guy you've ever dated. He makes you feel special, always remembering the little things like your favorite flower or your drink orders at all your favorite places. He's attentive without ever being overbearing. But honestly, you don't think you could see him that way if you tried, always loving every bit of attention he gives you.

Today, he's taking you on a study date. He remembered that you were complaining about an upcoming exam in a class he's already taken, so he's grabbing his old notes and sitting you down in a quiet corner of the library so that he can help you study.

James would already have you set up in the library on the coziest chair with your favorite hot drink from the cafe if he didn't forget his old notebook in his room—which he felt rather sheepish about leaving behind.

So, here you are. James asked if you wanted to wait in the car, but you were curious to see the inside of one of these things. You half expected to see solo cups littering the floor, a pong table in place of a coffee table, and maybe even a few hungover frat guys strewn about the living room still sobering up from last nights antics.

You were a little surprised to find out that it was rather clean. You know from James that there was indeed a party here last night, but apparently they clean up nicely.

Although, you’re right about there being a pong table. But it is folded up and leaning against a wall for future use.

James guides you towards the stairs, but before he can even mount the first step someone appears in the foyer from a hall that you can see leads to the kitchen.

"Jamesie! Back so soon?" the boy cheers when his eyes land on his friend first. His eyes dart to you a second later, and something like recognition flashes in his expression. "Is this who I think it is?"

The boy has long, black hair that cascades just to his shoulders in soft waves, the kind that look effortless but too perfect to not be styled in some way. He stares at you with piercing blue eyes, making you feel oddly self-conscious, which might also have to do with the big smirk on his lips.

James squeezes your hand, sensing your nerves, but he'd bet money that they pale in comparison to his own. He's been nervous about bringing you around here. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or them (well, maybe he's a little worried they'll scare you off). You're really important to him, and so are they, and he's been putting a lot of pressure on introducing you to them. So, this unplanned visit has his palms sweating, which he's hoping you haven't noticed.

"Sirius," James greets his friend. "Yeah, this is Y/N."

Your eyes widen a fraction when Sirius immediately steps forward, taking your free hand to press a kiss to the back of your knuckles. "Hi, sweetheart, I've heard a lot about you. Truly, a lot. James has talked my ear off about you so I really feel like I'm meeting an old friend. I'm Sirius."

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but you're not alone, as James' own face turns rosy as he mutters a scolding "dude!" at his friend.

"Don't tell me you were just gonna sneak in without so much as a proper introduction." Sirius places a hand over his heart, a dramatic look of utter disbelief painting his face.

"We're just stopping by to get my notes. We have a very important study sesh to get to, didn't want to delay us too much," James explains, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"I promise it'll only be a short detour then. Pete and Remus are the only ones here anyway," Sirius says. His eyes dart to you again, something mischievous swimming within them. "We've all been dying to meet the girl that has our James so smitten. I mean, he's been going on and on and on. It's nice to finally have a pretty face to the name."

At Sirius’ words, you can’t help but crack a smirk as you peer up at James.

“Don’t look at me like that,” James murmurs, now rubbing his thumb across your knuckles the way he does when he gets anxious. James is sure the tips of his ears are bright red. Sirius will go to no end to embarrass him, but despite the fact that his heart might jump out of his chest at any second, James really only cares how you feel about the situation. James tilts his head toward you, lowering his voice to ask, "Are you up for meeting some of the guys?"

"Yeah," you say with a warm smile. "I'd love to meet your friends." And you really would. James talks a lot about them, too. Always reciting some story about all the shenanigans they've gotten into over the years.

You've been able to tell he's been overthinking bringing you to meet them. You get it—you're secure in James' feelings for you, so you know it's nothing personal. Plus, you were really nervous when James met your friends. To be honest, even though they were jokes, you're friends have made digs at frat guys before because of the stigma. You really wanted James and your friends to like each other, and thankfully, they really do and you had nothing to be worried about.

You hope that meeting his friends will have the same outcome and ease some of James' worries.

Sirius provides a generous introduction as you enter the kitchen. "Boys, it seems we have a very special guest in our midst this morning."

There are two guys sitting on kitchen stools who swivel around to greet you.

There's a lanky boy with mousy brown hair whose eyes dart back and forth between you and James before he directs a kind smile in your direction.

The other boy spins around mid-spoonful of a bowl of cereal. He abandons the utensil in his mouth to wave at you, his other hand occupied by the bowl resting in his palm.

Your eyes trail around the kitchen as James introduces you to them. It's rather large, as it would have to be to accommodate the large number of guys you assume live here.

You've also discovered the mess you thought you'd be stepping into. It seems that all of the discarded solo cups and beer cans have already been shoveled into a few trash bags, which are just about ready to burst at the seams as they wait by the back door to be taken out.

"I'm Peter," the boy with the cereal pipes up after returning his spoon to his bowl.

"Remus," the tall one introduces himself. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," you say. "You know, I've never been in a frat house before. I take it you all live here?"

Remus is the only one who shakes his head. "Not a brother," he clarifies. "Just unlucky enough to have them as my best friends."

"Oh, you know you'd be lost without us," Sirius says, rolling his eyes playfully. "And it's not a frat house, it's a frat home," Sirius says very earnestly. Too add to his dramatics, he pulls Peter into a hug (which nearly makes him fall off his stool) and raps his fist against his back as he pretends to get emotional.

Peter's laughing as he shoves, Sirius off. "Alright, man," he says, swatting Sirius' hand away as he ruffles his hair.

"Sirius had beer for breakfast," Remus informs you to excuse Sirius' behavior.

"Hey, I only had two and I know you're not suggesting I'm a lightweight," Sirius points at Remus accusingly. "Anyway, I was just telling Y/N how often Jamesie muses about her."

Remus clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Don't tease him too badly, Sirius.”

"It's not like it's not true," Peter shrugs, earning himself a glare from James.

You look up at James. His cheeks have deepened a few shades now as he glowers at Peter. You give his hand a squeeze to attract his attention, the expression on his face immediately softening when he looks at you.

“I think it’s sweet,” you say, encouraging a smile onto James’ lips. He drops your hand, only to wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you into his side. You nuzzle your nose against his shoulder, looking at him with expectant eyes. He knows what you’re asking for, and would rather hand his friends more ammo to tease him with than deny you, so he gladly plants a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“You two are sickening.” Sirius leans over the counter, propping his chin up with his hand as he sighs dramatically. “It’s adorable,” he adds.

“Wrapped around her finger, are ya?” Peter joins in on the teasing.

James keeps his eyes on you as he responds. “You bet I am.”

You tear your eyes away from James’ sweet gaze to address his smirking friends. “You know, I've heard a lot about you guys too," you say.

Sirius lights up with intrigue. "Oh, do tell."

"Well, Peter must be the guy to go to if you want to have a laugh. Every time James asks ‘Wanna hear a story Peter told me’ I know I’m gonna have to sit through several fits of laughter before he gets to the end of it," you say, nudging James with your elbow who nods along to confirm your story.

Peter puffs up his chest, proud to be known as the funny one.

"Remus," you continue, "I should've known you weren't a brother. James always tells me about how they drag you into things that you have to get them out of. If he hasn't told you before, he's very thankful for you. And Sirius. I think I've heard the most interesting stories about you."

"This should be good," Sirius says, a cocky grin on his face. "I've given James a whole catalog of legendary stories to tell about me."

"My favorite is the one that started with you trying to impress a girl by jumping into the pool from the roof and ended with you in the bushes after you tripped on the gutter,” you say, an air of sweetness in your tone and a smile on your lips.

The confident smirk drops from Sirius’ face and James snorts a laugh beside you. Peter cracks up, and even Remus snickers at the look on Sirius’ face.

"I think you’ve just won over Sirius," Remus says, watching as his grin returns.

“You got me, I can appreciate that,” Sirius says. “Why have you been hiding her from us for so long, James? I like her.”

"Yeah, I like her too,” James replies, squeezing you a little closer into his side. He doesn't bother trying to hide the broad grin overtaking his features. As he looks down at your giggling face, he can't remember what he was so nervous about.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[delightfulhidingnook]

His Best Knight, The Queen

(Dark Cacao Cookie x Reader)

Chapter 4

You brushed out your hair and put on a your best outing dress and covered yourself with your winter coat and caped hood before hopping onto the back of Sweetie and heading over to the village inn to pick up Dark Cacao.

“Sweetie, speak.”

He barked and not too long after Dark Cacao had looked out the window of the inn.

“Come on Dark Cacao, let’s go.” You laughed, patting the spot on Sweeties back behind you.

He comes down from his room, you reach out your hand as he exits the inn, smiling brightly as you recalled the day you first met, but now the situation has changed, the both of you were off to a celebration. You rode through the night, past the gates and along the coast of the Licorice Sea, the moon was shining brightly, the cold wind in your hair, it all felt so freeing.

“Should be just up and over those chocolate mountains.” You pointed into the distance.

You started steering Sweetie towards the mountains and away from the Licorice Sea shoreline, the snow was falling gently as the sun began its descent, the orange and yellow hues masking the cold harshness of the land with a blanket of warm color. During the climb up, Sweetie accidentally slipped a bit causing you to fall backwards, Dark Cacao secured your place, his arms holding you steady by your waist before letting go as Sweetie continued climbing onward.

“Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You turned around to face him, his face slightly red and his expression becoming confused, “Would it not be wise to keep your eyes on the path ahead?”

“Sweetie has eyes, I’ve ridden backwards plenty of times, I wanted to ask you something, though, it has been months since I’ve had this question, I worry you may not even remember the answer.”

“My memory fairs well, I’m not exactly that much older than you.”

“Before the wall, you seemed to have a moment where you were lost in thought, was something troubling you?”

“I was thinking about the villages, I hadn’t stayed so long and yet, it felt like a place I wanted to protect, full of cookies I would like to protect as well, when that wall went up, it felt like a confirmation, a calling of purpose.”

“I see, well, I couldn’t imagine a better protector than you, well, besides me, but I mean, you slayed the dragons, no one has ever even stepped near the icing ridge when those beasts come out picking a fight with each other.”

“I cannot take all of the credit for such a victory, as I recall, it was your arrow that saved me from the jaws of death.”

“Well, to be fair, I thought you were just some idiot who was foolish enough to fight those two dragons, even I know my limits, in any other situation I would have pulled you out of there by your hair.”

You both laughed a bit when Sweetie suddenly came to a complete stop, knocking you backwards and Dark Cacao forward, your head hitting the soft back of the wolf. Not wanting to crush you under his full body weight, Dark Cacao planted his hands on either side of your head, gripping Sweeties fur to keep himself somewhat upright, accidentally pinning you in the process. It lasted only a few seconds, almost like a trance or a spell, but when you looked into each other’s eyes, it felt like the entire world had come to a complete stop.

Dark Cacao pushes himself back up into a seated position, you could see the strawberry jam rushing to his face, “A thousand apologies Y/n Cookie, are you alright!?”

You giggled, your face also flushed, “Relax, it was an accident, I know you are incapable of committing such unchivalrous acts.”

He sighs a breath of relief at your words.

“Besides, I know you would have the decency to treat me to dinner first.” You say as you turn back around to see why Sweetie stopped, oh, it looks like you had arrived, you look up, ah, Hollyberry and some guards were there to greet you at the entrance, they just witnessed everything, great, absolutely perfect, could this get anymore embarrassing?

“Oooooohhhh, did I interrupt something intimate? My deepest apologies.” Hollyberry laughed.

“No! We were not intimate at all, we just fell, nothing more!” Dark Cacao exclaimed as he quickly hopped off the crème wolf.

“Oh yeah, you fell alright, fell head over heels.”

You buried your face in Sweeties fur, a muffled, high-pitched scream leaving your lips, your face redder than redberry juice.

“I refuse to be subject to such falsities so early in the evening!”

“Oh Cacao I’m just teasing! Come on inside, welcome, everyone is waiting at the palace, they can’t wait to meet you Y/n I told them all about you.”

You raised your head and slowly stepped off Sweeties back your face still tinted with a slight pink color, oh how you regretted every step that lead you to this very moment in time, but, you had to admit you were also still excited to meet the others. You command sweetie to sit and assist the guards before following Hollyberry who lead you through the halls of her palace, it was so pretty, you were in awe at how it looked and out the window was a perfect view of the Hollyberry kingdom, the lights were like stars on earth. Soon you all made it to the dining room and seated there were three other cookies, well, here goes, first impressions are everything.

“Ah, is this the sweet cookie that Dark Cacao has been courting?” Asked the cookie ordained in gold.

It did not help that you and Dark Cacao had practically the same silent reaction to the question, even then yelling in unison, “WE ARE NOT COURTING!!”

The group laughed as a servant walked in with mugs filled with red liquid, this must be the redberry juice, it looked so good.

Hollyberry grabbed a mug and raised it, “We’re all here, please have a seat, tonight we dine and drink in celebration of a finished project.”

You took a seat beside Hollyberry, Dark Cacao taking the seat across from you, you waved at the others before introducing yourself.

“Hello there, I’m Y/n Cookie, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

“The pleasure is ours Y/n Cookie, I am Pure Vanilla Cookie, I see that Hollyberry has not told us a single exaggeration, you are absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you very much, it’s my best coat, I almost feel terrible to ask if I can take it off, the climate here is a lot warmer than back home.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want you to overbake in there.” Said Hollyberry.

You removed your hood and coat, revealing your dress, it wasn’t the fanciest but it was very elegant.

“Oh that dress is so beautiful.” Said the white-haired cookie.

“Thank you, it was a gift from the people of the Coffee Tribe for doing deliveries during for them during the blizzard season.” You sat back down before looking at the last two cookies, “What are your names?”

“I’m White Lily Cookie.”

“And I am the golden sovereign, Golden Cheese Cookie of the Golden Cheese Kingdom!”

“Well it’s lovely to meet all of you, I hope this marks the beginnings of a new friendship.”

You all raised your mugs and cheered, you drank and it was delightful, the redberry juice was sweet but it was a special sweetness that was not overwhelming, it was perfect, you had to have more. You chugged as much as you could. Everyone began lowering their own mugs as they watched you in amazement, you slam your empty mug onto the table, picking up your cloth napkin to wipe away the excess redberry juice on your lips.

“I thought you said you never had redberry juice before.” Hollyberry said before calling for another mug.

“I haven’t, but it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had, it’s sweet but not too sweet, that with the texture makes it feel like heaven in my mouth.”

“Careful Y/n, redberry juice is no laughing matter, if you have too many you will greatly regret it.” Dark Cacao Cookie warned.

“Oh and is mister brooding speaking from experience? Don’t worry, we can fight the next threatening tree together.” You laughed.

“Perhaps it will only be you fighting a tree, Dark Cacao hasn’t even touched his drink yet.” Pure Vanilla chuckled.

The food had arrived, it looked and smelled delicious, a royal feast indeed and you even got a refill of the redberry juice, as you dug into the food, the others began to ask you questions about yourself.

“So you say you made deliveries for the Coffee Tribe, are you from there?” Asked White Lily.

“No im from the neighboring Milk Tribe, both sides were struggling but I was one of the few strong enough to establish connections between the two so we could help each other thrive.”

“How was life before the knight in dull armor showed up?” Asked Golden Cheese.

“It was good, not to say that it isn’t good now, I must admit that I am a lot less lonely, before, I didn’t really talk to cookies as often as I do now, there was a friend I had but then he left without even a word of goodbye, I still question to this day if his leave had any correlation with my actions.” You began to lower your head, your eyes welling up a bit, but you dare not cry, especially not in front of people you just met, you decided to drink up your second mug of redberry juice.

“That is very sad, I’m so sorry you had gone through such an experience, but I am also happy that our friend could provide you with company, I hope we can all do the same.” Said Pure Vanilla Cookie.

You lower your mug of redberry juice and nod, “Aaaaww hiccup Pure Vanilla that’s so hiccup sweeeeeeettt.”

“Two mugs and she’s already drunk, wonderful, another round!” Shouted Hollyberry.

[cherrygarcia-07]

⭐️Cosmic Love // Spencer Reid⭐️

Spencer finds himself falling in love all over again whilst stargazing

content: idiots in love, spencer rambling about greek mythology, love love love

pairing: spencer reid x reader (established relationship)

genre: fluff fluff fluff

notes: reader referred to as a girl, probably incorrect stuff about greek mythology (i tried my best with my research but it is probably not the most accurate or extensive), a super super brief allusion to suicide when talking about said greek mythology

authors notes: this is possibly a little self indulgent as a stargazer but oh to go stargazing with spencer reid. and yes this is named like the Red Velvet lyric. fun fact! the star pics above are mine! both orion and taurus/pleiades are visible in the first pic, as mentioned in the fic. i hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————-💫——————————————————————————

Eighty-eight constellations stretch across the endless night sky like a blanket embroidered with ancient tales and stories of love and loss. Tiny, twinkling lights that dance way up above, their nightly shows enchanting, enamouring- entrancing.

Entranced. That’s how Spencer felt, gazing up at the storybook of stars, one hand draped over your back as his chest steadily rose and fell under the comfortable weight of your head resting on him. Of course not all eighty-eight constellations were present, just a couple of pages worth of stars, but there were plenty to keep the two of you charmed, an air of tranquility flowing through you as you listened earnestly to his warm voice softly explaining each tale to you.

You were lying on the grass of the field beneath you, a blanket separating your bodies from the blades of green, Spencer’s curls falling onto the cushion beneath his head as your hair fell over his sweater. With his free hand, he pointed towards the sky, landing on three dazzling stars lined up in a neat row which you recognised, eyes darting to the rest of the constellation around it.

‘Orion’s belt- and Orion himself’ you spoke before he could, leaving his mouth hanging open and he let out a light laugh instead.

‘Smart girl.’ He traced small circles on your lower back with the arm still wrapped around you, a loving smile on his face.

You couldn’t see him with your gaze locked onto the sky above you, yet your face mirrored the same smile as your voices gently broke the silence stretching over the field. You nuzzled his chest with your cheek, urging him to tell you more, he grinned.

‘Well, there’s actually multiple versions of the legends that account for how he ended up in the stars. There’s one that claims Artemis was tricked into striking him with her own arrow by Apollo who was jealous of their love, but the most commonly told variants result in a monstrous scorpion being sent to kill him.’ As he spoke his finger drifted below Orion to a different constellation, ‘and so we have Scorpius.’

You hummed in thought. ‘A scorpion, huh? And who sent that?’

‘Hmm there’s a couple of different stories behind that too.’ He chuckled as you let out a confused groan. ‘One says that it was sent by Gaia who despised his boasting and arrogance. In others it was sent by Artemis as a result of unwanted advances towards her. In Gaia’s case, it’s said that she was so grateful to the scorpion that she promised the proof of it’s victory would be visible for all eternity, placing Scorpius in the sky to pursue Orion forevermore.’

‘Damn…’ You sighed, ‘Greek mythology is brutal.’

‘That’s certainly one way to put it.’

A content silence arose as your eyes drifted between the two constellations and your mind crafted vivid images of Orion the hunter slaying beasts, of Gaia, irate, and of the scorpion raising it’s mighty tail and bringing the giant to his demise. The scene dissipated and in the calm of the night you could hear Spencer’s breathing, in time with the movement of his chest beneath you. Carefully, you turned your head upwards to see him as best as you could. He was ethereal. The glow of the moonlight bathed him in an angelic haze, every perfect curl on his head highlighted as if they each had their own personal spotlight. Your lips parted slightly and you dared to look into his eyes, and for a second you forgot about the sea of stars above and you became fixated on the ones that seemed to shine within those mesmerising golden brown pools, shining brighter than anything you’d seen so far that night. Suddenly missing his voice, you turned back to face the sky.

‘Tell me another one, Ptolemy.’ You joked, earning a hearty laugh from him that gave you butterflies.

‘Okay, okay.’ He lifted a finger towards the sky again, this time heading above Orion and somewhere far to its right, to a tiny cluster of bright white lights jumping out from the darkness. ‘Do you know this one?’ He took your silence as you followed his direction as a sign to continue, ‘Pleiades- part of the Taurus constellation.’

You’d seen this constellation before, it was too small to stand out amongst the great cosmic illustrations it burrowed between yet it was captivating enough that when your eyes did brush past it on their way to the next set of stars they stopped, fixed.

Spencer licked his lips before speaking again, ‘The seven sisters, daughters of Atlas who was fated to hold up the sky and carry the heavens on his shoulders by Zeus as punishment for the Titan rebellion. They were relentlessly pursued by Orion, only Atlas was unable to protect them leading Zeus to transform them all into doves which he then released to the heavens.’

‘Doves…’ you cooed, slightly sleepy but completely engaged, ‘that’s kind of nice.’

‘Well actually, there’s a different version of the tale where the seven sisters died by their own hands but I figured you wouldn’t care for that one as much.’

‘Mm-hm. I want the dove story. Tell me about the sisters.’ Spencer smiled at your tired drawl, craning his neck slightly to press a gentle kiss to your hair as his hand moved from your back to stroke your arm. He loved that you were so interested in his stories, in his rambling, it was something he hadn’t had the luxury of getting used to in life- not until he met you, anyway. He couldn’t fathom that after years of abrupt interruptions, of being told ‘not now, kid’, even of being outright bullied and mocked that he would have anyone- let alone someone as divine and seraphic as you- hanging on to his every word and actually asking to hear more. He bit his bottom lip, a beam pulling at his mouth and he placed another kiss, with just a little more pressure, to your hair, making you giggle before he began again.

‘Maia, Alcyone, Sterope, Celaeno, Taygete, Electra, and Merope- daughters of Atlas the titan and Pleione, protector of sailors.’ A happy hum escaped your lips as you cuddled into him, unknowingly causing his heart to skip a beat as he held you tighter. ‘If you look closely, to the human eye Pleiades appears to contain only six stars and not seven, though that’s not actually the case. Merope- also known as the lost sister- is said to have been faded, hiding her face in shame after marrying a mortal. Her star is there but much fainter than the others, practically invisible to the naked eye.’

‘That’s sad.’ You whimpered. ‘Living in shame forever because of who you married.’ Though he couldn’t see your face, Spencer could tell you were pouting and your compassion made his heart ache. He decided you didn’t need to hear about Sisyphus.

‘Yeah, I suppose it is, sweetheart.’ He murmured, his hand stroking your hair slowly and delicately. ‘I think you’ll like Maia, though.’ He suggested, in an attempt to resolve your frowning face, as cute as it always was to him. ‘Maia was the eldest of the sisters, a nymph, supposedly very beautiful yet incredibly reserved and solitary. Romans considered her a goddess of spring which is said to be how the month of May got its name.’

‘So she was known for being pretty?’ You questioned admirably as you pulled your head back up again to look at him.

‘Mm,’ Spencer nodded, wrapping both arms around you in a tight hug, your body fitting against his as if made specifically for it, ‘kind of like someone else I know.’

A delighted, girlish giggle escaped you, matching lovesick smiles illuminated in the glow of the night. In that moment it was as if no one else in the world existed, all that you knew was the way he looked in the dreamy moonlight, like a God himself pulled straight from the heavens above and he took your breath away. Your eyes travelled over his face, stopping at his brows- you loved how expressive they always were: how they furrowed when he was deep in thought, a crease appearing between them that you always wished to straighten out with the gentle touch of your finger or the dainty touch of your lips; how they shot up high above those beautiful eyes of his when he was excited, the way they moved a million miles a minute with his ever-changing expressions as he rambled about whatever it was that had caught his attention that time; and how they framed his face so perfectly you sometimes genuinely wondered if his features were carved by sculptors before he graced the world with his existence. You couldn’t resist, within seconds you had turned to prop yourself up so your face was hovering over his, your hair falling around the two of you like a curtain blocking out the rest of the world until it was just you and Spencer. Leaning in, you gingerly took his face in one hand, using your other to keep yourself steady, and kissed between his brows, your lips lingering on his skin for a moment longer as you breathed him in and let your fingers drag up his face and into his hair.

‘I love you.’ You heard yourself whisper distantly, like you were someone else listening in, so dazed and infatuated with the wonder of a man lying beneath you that you felt light, drifting away somewhere to those distant twinkling lights above. You wondered if one day the two of you may by some fate wind up there too, beside Perseus and Andromeda maybe, entwined forever and destined to love side by side above the earth while people for years to come point up at the sky to tell a story all your own, one of soulmates.

‘I love you too.’ Spencer whispered back, arms still wrapped around you and a rosy heat rushing through his cheeks as he scanned your face, pathetically and hopelessly in love. He let out a shaky breath laced with disbelief, something between a sigh and a laugh as he locked eyes with you and pondered. He was a classified genius by it’s very definition, he knew everything about everything and yet there was one thing that stumped that marvellous brain of his, one thing that he just couldn’t figure out- just how in the hell he had gotten so lucky.

Feeling at peace, you rolled off of him and resumed your rightful position on his chest, watching the sky once again as your eyes fell on the far-away moon, standing out against the black sea outstretched around it with it’s pale yellow glow bleeding through the darkness before thinning out into nothing.

‘You know, as a kid I used to talk to her. Write her letters and stuff.’ You lazily lifted your hand to where the moon was settled in the sky before framing it in the angle between your thumb and pointer finger.

‘Who?’ Spencer asked, intrigued by your whimsicality as always.

‘To the moon.’ You stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘You used to write letters to the moon?’ A sweet, saccharine tone took ahold of his voice and he felt butterflies in his own stomach now as he pictured you, tiny and innocent, perched at your window and scribbling about your day as you stared out into the night, youthful eyes full of wonder. Until this moment he was sure he couldn’t possibly fall any deeper in love with you.

‘She’s always there. And she always listens, you know?’ Spencer noted the softness in your voice as if you were recalling memories of an old friend. ‘No matter where you are, how old you get, what you’ve done or where you’ve been- when you look up at the sky she’s still by your side, waving her little light at you like she’s saying ‘hey it’s okay.’’ You gave a sheepish chuckle, embarrassed slightly by how childish a sentiment it was.

The truth was, you were exactly the kind of person Spencer needed in his life. Someone who could look at the seemingly insignificant things that other people seem to pay no mind to and give them meaning, much like he felt you did to him. It didn’t sound juvenile at all to him, in fact it was comforting after all he’d been through in his life to know there was still magic in the world, in you and in your infectious joy as it filled his heart until he feared it might burst. He understood entirely, because that’s what you were to him- a little light waving his way saying ‘hey it’s okay’, and for once in his life he was certain he had somebody who would stay.

‘Plus, she’s beautiful.’ You spoke, snapping him out of the trance he had wandered into. ‘Much like someone else I know.’ You tilted your head up towards him, throwing him a playful wink as you echoed his earlier remark, and he couldn’t help the laugh that left his lips as they spread in a grin from ear to ear.

Another relaxed silence encompassed the two of you as you lay there, perfectly moulded to one another, taking in the night before you. The only sounds around you were your breathing, perfectly in sync, in rhythm with each other. It would have been enough to lull you to sleep right there in his arms, but before long you began to miss his voice again.

‘Hey,’ you poked him lightly, ‘why do we call the moon ‘she’ anyway.’

‘Oh, there’s plenty of reasons for that.’ He spoke in a low, yet honeyed voice. ‘One of the most popular being the belief that the moon has influence over women’s reproductive cycles, that the moon and women are tied together in a sacred bond between the cosmos and femininity. It’s a longstanding belief across many cultures throughout history.’ Since meeting you, this was a theory he believed more in every day- there was certainly something stellar- cosmic, even, about you.

You were pressed so tightly to Spencer that his voice vibrated through you as if his words were taking over you completely, and you loved it.

You were about to respond when out of the corner of your eye, a brief glimmer of light flashed, and your gaze followed just in time to catch the shooting star that raced past before vanishing into the air just as fast as it had appeared. Gasping in pure, unfiltered glee you sat up, wildly pointing at the direction the star had come from.

‘Did you see that, Spence?’ You squealed, the beam on your face wider than anything he had ever seen before.

‘Yeah, I did.’ He mused, a look of wonder washing over him as he stared at you in awe, at your blushed cheeks and at the happiness in your voice. ‘Did you make a wish?’ He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you toward him as you continued to coo at the sky.

‘No, I didn’t. It happened too fast.’ There was a slight sigh in your voice as you rested your head perfectly in the space between his neck and his shoulder, like it was meant to be there.

‘That’s okay.’ Spencer spoke in an adoring, hushed tone, craning to place a kiss to your hair once more. ‘I’ve got everything I could ever wish for right here.’

-

[7975348473]

When the Asshole is sick.

————————————— A Lyrason ff.

Lyra was trying her best to get her mind off of her current circumstances. What were her current circumstances, you ask? Well, she started dating an, admittedly, mighty fine Hawthorne a few months ago.

But the problem about dating a Hawthorne is that they never, and I repeat, never give in.

And Lyra just happened to land herself not only the most stubborn Hawthorne, but also the most self less one.

When Lyra had awoken to find a still sleeping Grayson beside her this morning, she immediately knew something was wrong. Grayson was always the early bird. Lyra reached over to touch his forehead and found it burning up, Grayson stirred under her touch.

“Gray? Are you feeling all right?” Lyra asked gently, not sure if he was awake yet or not.

Grayson didn’t reply but simply put his hand around Lyra’s waist and pulled her closer. And you best believe he was burning up.

“Grayson. You’re burning up.” Said Lyra sternly. She knew well when Grayson Davenport Hawthorne tried to avoid a subject of discussion. Especially when it involved himself.

Grayson gave an uncommitted ‘mm’ in reply before nuzzling himself closer to her. It took everything in Lyra not to just give in and cuddle closer to him because she knew he was not going to acknowledge his sickness anytime soon.

And she was right indeed. When he finally let her go and got out of bed he followed his usual routine. He got up, kissed her cheek, her neck and took off for the washroom to get ready for the day, all the while Lyra kept telling him to stop and listen to her.

Haaa fucking Hawthornes and their stubborn asses.

Grayson exited the shower in a record timing of 25 minutes and 33 seconds, which was a lot longer than it usually took him to get ready.

“Grayson. Listen to me.” Said Lyra sternly, flashing him the glare she had learned from him.

“I have listened Lyra, about 20 times now since I woke up, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.” Said Grayson, looking at his phone and checking his schedule for the day.

Fine my ass.

“You are not fine Grayson. You woke up late, took far too long to get out of bed, took an extra 10 minutes in the shower even though you prioritise being early to work and you’re burning up. Nothing about that screams fine.” Stated Lyra, matter-of-factly, coming closer in order to get his attention.

Grayson let out a sigh and glanced up at her, “Lyra. I am fine,” he said putting emphasis on each word, “It’s a slight spike in temperature, it happens. I’ll be alright.”

And so the tug of war commenced, neither side giving up until finally, Grayson walked out of the room.

That would lead to Lyra’s current state of dilemma.

What in the world do you do when your boyfriend is sick and you’re mad at him??

Maybe I should apologise?… for what? Caring for him? As if.

But he’s not going to apologise either— stubborn bastard. So what, I watch while he suffers cuz he’s a dumbass and an asshole?

Precisely.

……..I’m such a terrible girlfriend—

NO. Not going down that road right now.

Lyra’s internal battle continued when, finally, she had had just about enough. She got up and ran through the house for a good 30 minutes until she finally found the kitchen.

Okay. Now. To make a stew for a sick asshole.

Lyra whipped out her phone and called Libby.

“Hello?”

“Libby. Hi. I need your help.”

“Oh? One sec— lemme just— yeah, okay, what’s up?”

“So you remember that one time you told me how Nash got really sick so you made him some st—”

“GNRIJGHORUEHEGROUHOUGBTE SHSHSHSHHSHS.” Libby made a few incomprehensible noises and she seemed to be running?

“GIRL— TELL ME BEFORE YOU DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT.” Came Libby’s long awaited reply.

“…oh— Was Nash there?”

“YES, HE WAS.” Said Libby, out of breath from her sudden expenditure across wherever she was.

Lyra started laughing and Libby joined in soon after.

“So? What did you need? You realise we’re in the same house right?” Asked Libby in between giggles.

“This house is too big for everyone’s good, it was hard enough to find the kitchen, finding you in the process would have resulted in me being lost.” Stated Lyra with a huff. Libby signed in agreement.

“Right, so stew?” Asked Libby.

“Yes. So. You know how Nash was very sick that one time so you spoon fed him that one stew that apparently works like a charm?” Asked Lyra.

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m in need of the recipe.”

“Oh? Is Grayson sick?”

“You bet he is.” Said Lyra and let out a sigh.

“God damn. He’s even more stubborn than Nash. How do you plan on getting the stew into his mouth?” Asked Libby, Lyra could practically hear her eye roll at the end.

“That.. just leave that to me.” Said Lyra, as an evil smirk spread across her face.

“I can hear your evil smirk.” Said Libby.

“Not evil, Libby.”

“It totally is.”

“Is not.”

“Is to.”

“Okay, ouch.”

Libby laughed at the other end of the line.

“Okay, I’ll come to you.”

“Nah, you could just run me through the recipe over the phone.” Suggested Lyra, hyped to start cooking.

“Uh huh. And I’m sure you know where all the ingredients are in the kitchen?” Said Libby.

…. Right.

“On second thought, pls come to the kitchen that’s right next to… the ballroom? I think?” Said Lyra.

“Second floor?”

“uhhhh yeah.”

“On my way.”

And so Libby walked Lyra through how to make the stew, not bothering to hide her amusement while watching Lyra work hard to make stew for the same boyfriend she was complaining about while making it.

“Lyra. You’re whipped.” Said Libby, after having thought it about 28 times in the past ten minutes she spent with Lyra.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Retorted Lyra, though her reddening cheeks have her away.

Libby laughed and gave her a playful wack across her arm.

And after a good 30 minutes the stew was ready. Now, onto the hard part of the plan. If reasoning and talking wasn’t going to work with Grayson, the art of forced-spoon-feeding might.

Lyra walked on over to Grayson’s ‘office at home’, where he did a lot of his work in recent times. She took a deep breath.

Okay, Lyra. Stay cool. No getting angry. Don’t say a word. Just walk in and act according to plan.

And Lyra, being the queen she is, did just that. She knocked on the door and didn’t bother waiting for a reply. She knew Grayson had no meetings today and was simply trying to ignore that he was sick by busying himself in documents.

Lyra walked in and Grayson looked up at her once before his eyes went back to his documents. Anybody else would have seen that as a cold reaction, but Lyra noticed the way his gaze lingered on her figure, the way his anger and guilt were both visible in his extremely tired eyes.

She payed all of those details no mind, as much as she wanted to. She walked on over to his desk ignoring him when he called out to her.

Lyra stopped right beside his desk and they made eye contact. She noticed the way his body was slightly slumped, the way his cheeks were slightly reddened, the way his eyes looked glassy. She paid those details no mind.

They stared at each other for a while before Grayson finally rose a single eye brow in question. The gesture said it all.

What is it, Lyra?

Lyra didn’t reply immediately. She placed the tray with the bowl of stew on his office desk, ignoring all the documents that were scattered on them. Grayson’s gaze followed her hands before locking-in on her eyes again.

“Turn over.” Commanded Lyra, finally.

Grayson did just that and turned his office chair to face her. He looked even worse in this angle. His red cheeks were on wide display and she noticed how his top two buttons were undone, his blazer abandoned somewhere on the sofa. (Yes this office has a bloody sofa. They’re rich.)

Lyra did not break eye contact a single time. Not while she turned back to him, not while she stepped closer, not while she sat right down on his lap to face him and not when his eyes went wide at the sudden action.

It took everything in Lyra not to break character then and there and just kiss him senseless.

“Lyra.” Came Grayson’s voice. A question that came out sounding a bit lustful.

Lyra didn’t deign that with an answer. She reached over to the soup bowl, took a spoon and brought it to his mouth.

Grayson’s gaze remained on her eyes only fleeing once or twice to her lips.

Lyra raised her own eyebrow and signalled with her mouth ‘ah’.

Grayson continued staring at her before finally opening his mouth. His eyes remained on hers as Lyra took the spoon to his mouth, and she did not appreciate how that action wanted to make her squirm. She picked up more soup and brought it to his mouth again.

“You made this?” He asked, before drinking the soup.

She replied with a ‘mm’. She was still mad.

They continued the process in silence for a while.

“It’s good.” He finally said.

WOW HAWTHORNE. THATS THE BEST YOU CAN COME UP WITH AFTER ALL OF THIS?? ‘ITS GOOD.’ ??? Asshole.

She sent him a glare before taking up another spoon and bringing it to his mouth.

“Lyra.” This time he was requesting for something. For her to listen.

Lyra sighed, “ What?” She moved her eyes to the soup bowl.

“I’m sorry.” Oh. Oh. So he was capable of apologising. Lyra looked back to him, taking in all the details she had refused to before. He looked terrible. He looked fucking glorious.

They, once again, stared at each other for a while, before Lyra broke eye contact to nudge him into drinking the soup. He did.

They continued in a comfortable silence while he finished the soup. Lyra was mad, but she wouldn’t trade this silence for the world. This moment. It screamed them in every way possible. Silence, but so much was spoken.

In the way she made the soup for him despite being mad. In the way he didn’t snap when seeing her, despite also being mad. In the way she spoon fed him in that position despite wanting to sock him in the stomach. In the way that he apologised and listened to every one of her commands, despite always being the one in control. It was them.

Finally the bowl was empty. Lyra moved to get off of his lap but his hand came to rest on the small of her back, preventing her from moving.

She gazed back down at him, willing her eyes to look angry even though she hated the state he was in.

“I’m sorry. Lyra.” He said again, his eyes boring into her own.

They continued the stare down, as many words passed between them without truly being spoken until finally, she broke the silence, with a smirk breaking free on her face.

“Prove it, Hawthorne.”

The look in Grayson’s eyes changed. He still looked sick, put off, guilty, but something stronger overcame those eyes. Want.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as his grip one her waist tightened, pulling her impossibly closer. He kissed her like his life depended on it and she savoured in it.

When they finally broke apart after a very….. productive make out session. Lyra smiled.

“You’re an asshole. You know that?” She said in between pants.

“Mm. Yes. But I’m your asshole.” He replied simply, as if the words took him no effort to think about at all. As if they were always meant to be said.

Lyra hated the effect those words had on her. She loved it.

“Are you flirting with me, Hawthorne? What has gotten into you?” She joked her hands stroking his hair as he angled his face in the crack between her neck and collarbone and rested it there.

“This is how I am when I’m sick.” He said.

Lyra laughed, “You admit it now?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He brought his face up and kissed her again before adding, “ I really am, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Lyra smiled and kissed him in reply.

Yes, he was a stubborn- selfless Hawthorne. Yes, he could be a complete asshole. Yet, he was still hers, as much as she was his.

My Hawthorne.

——————————————————

Ahahahahaha. I had this idea marinating in my head for a while and I couldn’t help but finally type it down. THIS IS MY FIRST SAD ATTEMPT AT ROMANCE SO CUT ME SOME SLACK PPL.

(Thoughts would be much appreciated.)

PS- @alwaysthefangirl I NEED HELPFUL CRITICISM. WAS THIS GOOD— 😭🙃✨

[lilithrosexoxo]

Ch. 5 Nightfall

Supper was uneventful, Elowen continued to uselessly flirt with Jinwoo even in front of her mate. Your siblings mates typically joined you all for supper. You honestly felt sorry for the beta. He was a kind man and Elowen didn’t deserve him. Bazz’s family was still visiting the kingdom which meant they were staying at the castle which unfortunately meant he attempted to flirt with you but after receiving a warning growl from Jinwoo he backed off. The twins fought over another meal while Aldwin cracked jokes all throughout supper to lighten your mood and you were highly appreciative.

After supper you retire to your room until you see your door opening and you knew it could only be one person. Only one person is able to enter your nest without asking permission, your best friend Astrid. You two were practically sisters after your father brought her to the castle from the orphanage. People often overlooked her because her father was a serial killer that was convicted and executed. Unfortunately for her the tabloids caught wind of her and she was deemed the child with bad blood. Your father took pity on her and decided to raise her in the castle as your personal knight.

“Y/N!”, she shouts as she lunges at you and tackles you to the bed with a huge smile on her face, her yellow eyes blazing, “You found them after all these years. I’m so happy, I know you thought the goddess forsaked you but, I always knew you would find your fated mate”, she says, squeezing you tightly.

You return her hug with equal fervor. Astrid was always there for you and always said you would find your fated mate even as the years went by. 

You chuckle, “Yes yes yes you were right but can you believe it? My alpha is THE Sung Jinwoo!”, you squeal.

“You got the best alpha. He’s so capable and such a strong commander. He’s what every alpha dreams of being. Of course the best alpha is the best fit for the best prime omega”, she says, holding her head up high looking at you with pride. You feel your heart swell with praise. 

“Thank you for always believing in me Astrid. I wouldn’t be here without you”, you say as you feel tears well up in your eyes, “Jinwoo is such a kind and determined alpha”, you sigh dreamily.

In the distance you both hear a deep boom and feel the earth quake causing you to gasp. Astrid springs into action and draws out her sword. She puts her communicator in her ear to see what’s going on.

“There’s an attack by demons. Damnit first the elves and now demons. We need to get you and the rest of the royal family into the bunker. Let’s go”, she says as you both run out the room and down the corridor.

“Wait, we need to let Jinwoo know what’s going on! I won’t leave him behind!”, you shout as Astrid tries to drag you away.

“Let’s make this quick”, she says as you run down the hall.

She bangs on the door, “Alpha Sung we’re under attack. We require your help. Our numbers are thin due to the elves previous attacks”, she states and the door bursts open.

Jinwoo is clad in all black with a serious look in his eye.

“Take Y/N to safety, I’ll handle this threat with my remaining soldiers and the castle knights”, he commands as another explosion rocks the earth. 

Astrid takes you by the hand, “Let’s go Y/N”, you both go to turn towards the direction of the bunker. Your heart is racing as you feel the adrenaline kick in. You keep your guard up looking out for any stray demons coming your way until a figure lands in front of you.

Yellow eyes meet yours as you begin to quake in fear when the realization hits you. You’re not just being attacked by demons but by a prince of hell. This was the worst possible time for your father to be gone. Towering in front of you is none other than Beelzebub. You’ve only seen pictures of him before but his aura is menacing.

“Get behind me Y/N”, Astrid says as she assumes a fighting position.

She lunges and her and Beelzebub meet in a clash of swords. Astrid isn’t attacking, just defending; she can’t seem to find an opening to cut off his head and put an end to this battle. 

“Wow, is this the best the castle knights can do?”, he says with a chuckle, “It’s time to kick things up a notch”, he says as he begins to flit through the corridor. Cuts start to appear on Astrid’s body and it becomes clear what’s going on, he’s toying with her. He can end her life at any second but is choosing to draw out the battle. It doesn’t take long before blood is dripping down her body onto the floor but she still stands. She swore to protect you and that’s what she’ll do even if it costs her life.

“Ooooo~ we have a determined one don’t we. Usually prey should recognize the difference between strength of a predator and cower in fear yet you resist? What is the motivator behind your determination? It wouldn’t be that sweet omega behind you would it? Who is it your mate?”, he says with a sinister smile.

Suddenly he disappears in a flash and appears before you. Yellow eyes glare down at you as he reaches forward, hand pointed aiming right at your chest.

Jinwoo could only look on in a panic as he begins to run towards you forcing all of his mana to his feet to move faster; all his soldiers are busy fighting demons and he can’t send any to you in time. Once he recognized the prince of hell he began to make his way towards you but he couldn't keep up with Beezlebub’s speed; he wasn't going to make it in time. He still wasn’t strong enough, he was going to lose you! He was going to lose another person he cared about right in front of his eyes. 

You see a shadow jump in front of you and Beezlebub’s hand goes right through. You watch as a beaded necklace falls to the ground and shatters. Wait, why does that necklace look so familiar? Your vision clears and the person before you comes to light. It’s Astrid. The necklace that fell was the one you made for her when you were children. No, no no this can’t be. You catch her as she falls to the ground. Blood there’s so much blood pouring out of her from the gaping hole in her chest. Even with an alphas advanced healing there’s no way she can recover from this.

“A-Astrid…”, you croak out your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Y/N, my sister, my flame. I love you and I will always watch over you. Thank you for caring and lo-loving someone like me. W-with bad blood”, you hear her say with a smile as she chokes on her own blood reaching up for your face.

You catch her hand and put it on your cheek, blood smearing in the process. Tears stream down your face and onto hers, “Astrid please don’t leave me”, you choke out. This cannot be happening right now. You cling to her as you see life leave her eyes and feel her hand flop. You feel your heart shatter into a million pieces. “No no no no no, Astrid you have to get up, please don’t leave me”, you shout but she’s gone. You can’t believe she’s gone. That you won’t be able to spend any more time together, see her smile, see her yellow eyes and flaming red hair dancing in the wind as she battles.

While Beezlebub is distracted watching the scene unfold before him with a sinister grin Jinwoo swoops in; however, his daggers immediately meet a sword. Beating a prince of hell won’t be easy especially with Igris and Beru gone, “Mages aim your attacks towards Beezlebub and fire!”, he commands Tusk and the other mages.

It’s a direct hit and Jinwoo prepares to go in for the final kill but all he hears is laughter. Beezlebub leaves the center of the attack without a scratch on him. Jinwoo decides that it’s time for a stealth attack and uses his mana to become invisible.

“Oh you’re quite different from the other mutts roaming around aren’t you Alpha Sung?”, Beezlebub says. 

Jinwoo circles him, muscles tensing as he prepares for another attack; the only way he’ll be able to take him out is with a surprise attack. He lunges and goes straight for his throat but unsurprisingly he meets a sword yet again.

“Really a sneak attack? How pathetic truly and here I thought the great Alpha Sung would entertain me”, he says with a smirk as he lowers his guard figuring this will be child’s play. Jinwoo smiles as he activates commander touch and brings his other dagger and slices his ankles bringing the prince to his knees. The look on his face would be priceless if the situation wasn’t so dire. “Tusk! Use the orb and unleash everything you have on him now! Use Wisteria rain”, he shouts. A column of purple rains down upon the prince and Jinwoo smells the sizzling flesh and hears the prince scream in agony. He goes in for the kill while he’s weakened and one more swipe of his dagger sends his head rolling.

“Your arrogance was your downfall”, he says as he speaks to the head that’s slowly crumbling away.

“No matter, my brothers will avenge me. We will lay claim to this dimension”, Beezlebub says as he fades away.

With the prince dead Jinwoo goes to you but stops in his tracks as he gets hit with a sense of deja vu. You’re still clinging to Astrid’s lifeless body as tears stream down your face. A horrible memory is brought to the surface as he thinks of the friend he’s lost. The fight ended with his last shadow soldier wiping out the last demon but the damage has been done.

He sees your family, guests, and the remaining knights come to you after hearing your cries and the scene makes them gasp.

“No not Astrid”, your mother says as she goes to you.

“You’re supposed to be THE Sung Jinwoo and you couldn’t protect Y/N from this pain. You are a horrible alpha, you don’t deserve Y/N”, Bazz screams.

Who does he think he’s talking to? He’s aware that he failed you tonight; he doesn't need him rubbing it in. Jinwoo gives him a murderous glare that makes his blood run cold and Bazz immediately backs down and rushes to your side.

All of a sudden you feel a raging inferno burning you from the inside. You scream as pain begins to overwhelm you. Your body bends unnaturally as fire flares through your veins.

“Please it burns”, you cry out as you shut your eyes to try to block out the pain.

“What’s happening to her?”, your mother shouts as she runs to you and cradles you in her arms.

Jinwoo kneels and feels your forehead, you’re burning up. He sees intricate blue and red symbols start to weave across your skin while your body starts to glow. He knows what’s happening all too well but he’d rather this happen then have you drop and risk losing you forever.

“She’s awakening”, he tells your mother and she’s stunned. An omega awakening? There’s no recollection of something like this happening; it should only be alphas that can awaken and that’s after suffering true heartbreak. At least that’s what she’s always been told but as she sees you writhe in her arms and with an experienced alpha like Alpha Sung confirming it, it must be true.

“Alpha Sung please, what can we do for my daughter?”

“Nothing, we just have to wait and try to make her as comfortable as possible”.

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

[bean-market-art]

梅が香を...

This is my end of an art trade with @kalolasfantasyworld! Working on this was an absolute BLAST (as you can tell from the five page Google Doc of explanations for all the stuff I did not need to add lmao) and I had so much fun with it! Thank you for doing the art trade with me Lola :D 

Full explanation of history and themes below:

Historical Overview

The Edo period (1600-1867) is pretty prominent in modern culture, and is often romanticized as one of THE periods of Japanese cultural significance. Hinokuni (Land of the Sun) in Black Clover is based off of Edo-period Japan, or at least the late Muromachi pd.

You might know this as a time of samurai, ninja, etc. However, a fair amount of that is completely wrong. Edo period society was carefully structured to maintain peace. There was no war, and therefore virtually no work to be done for warriors – save a few rebellions, samurai were basically unemployed. However, since all of the power was in the hands of the military, they remained at the top of the rigid hierarchy established by the shogunate. This ended up putting the samurai in a strange situation: they grew more and more financially destitute, but still kept their high status as society slowly broke down over 200 years. 

In the mid 1700s, however, Japan was the most urbanized country in the world. Woodblock printing meant that media became available to everyone for a much lower cost than it would if everything was an individually commissioned drawing. “Modern” consumer pop culture arrived and evolved in Japan much earlier than other places, and part of pop culture was the ukiyo-e.

What is ukiyo-e? 

Have you ever wanted to see a hand drawn and carefully reproduced woodblock print of a woman having sex with an octopus? I imagine you don’t, but we’re on Tumblr, so. You can’t be sure. 

Anyway, If you know The Great Wave off Kanagawa, the glorious and quintessential piece of Japanese art, that was done by Katsushika Hokusai. Hokusai, the mad lad, also printed women fucking octopodes. Both of these things are (according to the people of the time) a depiction of the “Floating World,” ukiyo. The Floating World refers to the beautiful, fleeting, and hedonistic red-light district of Edo (now Tokyo) which was literally a man-made sex and theatre island. Pictures of the Floating World are usually the traditional Japanese woodblock print, and can be anything from beautiful flowers to famous actors to scenic views to pictures of lovers, to… well, porn. A lot of porn.

However, this particular drawing is (thankfully) based off of Lovers Walking in the Snow (Crow and Heron), a wood-block print that dates to around 1770.

The long sleeves on the woman is one of the signs of the mid-Edo period, as those were in fashion at the time.

According to the Met, “Of all ukiyo-e prints of lovers, this one creates the most romantic and melancholic mood. Harunobu emphasizes the intimacy of two lovers strolling in the snow, even suggesting perhaps a michiyuki, a path to a love suicide.” The love suicide or double suicide was considered one of the most romantic things lovers could do at the time…. which… you know, that’s cool for them, but I wanted to thematically move away from that for this one, so I switched the crow to a crane 😭 This only partially solved the problem but I swear they’re not going to kill themselves guys I love Nozelena and there are other reasons I picked this print, please – 

Crow and Heron was created by Suzuki Harunobu, who invented the nishiki-e, or multicolored woodblock print. Prints prior to his innovation were limited to two or three colors, but Harunobu’s wealthy commissioners gave him enough money and time to carve up to twelve individual wood blocks to print many different colors onto one sheet of paper.

He is also famously known for fucking hating kabuki performers, so sorry, Harunobu, but I’m putting you in here with mentions of kabuki actors lmao. shoutout to Wikipedia for Harunobu facts please don’t kill me hbomberguy im just a little man with dreams 

Clothes 

I want to preface this by saying that these clothes are NOT COMPLETELY HISTORICALLY ACCURATE. With that being said, let’s get into the Themes :]  

Helena, our Crane, is wearing clothing that’s pretty similar to the woman in Crow and Heron, but she’s also wearing an auspicious red uchikake, or over-robe. Uchikake are only really used in wedding kimono in modern times, but they were frequently worn in everyday life by the wives of samurai-class nobles during the late Muromachi (1336-1573) and Edo periods. Consisting of a patterned silk robe left open over her white kimono with the fashionable long sleeves of the time, she’s hopefully a little more warm in the snow! 

Image courtesy of the Met. Uchikake depicting scenes from the Tale of Ise

Plum blossoms are the flower of the month for February, and make up at least ten entries in the Kokinshu, a famous seasonal poem anthology. These white blossoms are often elegantly 'confused' with snow on the branches of the plum trees, and are a sure sign of early spring.

Given that this drawing is being posted around the time that these poems were likely written back in the 900s, I thought it would be fitting to put Helena in plum blossoms. You can also see faded plum blossoms in two corners of the piece. Cranes (tsuru) are associated with the same bright red that Helena’s almost always drawn in. They signify long life, purity, good luck, and fidelity. Overall, cranes have the same general happy connotations that I think of whenever I think of Helena, and they have the same colors -- they're perfect for each other!

You can see a version of Helena’s outfit with the hood in the ukiyo-e below, also done by Harunobu. 

Nozel is styled as a daimyo or regional warlord of the time. I wanted initially to put him in a kataginu kamishimo, which you can see below, but the haori (jacket) and hakama (pants) that he’s wearing are also appropriate. 

Dressing him down and leaving his hair down saved me from having to draw his stupid braid hopefully gives the piece a more intimate feeling.

If Nozel was a daimyo of the time period, he’d only see Helena a few months out of the year. The Tokugawa shogunate used a system called sankin koutai, or alternate attendance, to prevent the regional warlords from rising up and trying to usurp their rule. This system meant that the wives and children of the daimyo were forced to live in the capitol, and the daimyo could come to Edo once or twice a year to see them. The shogun having everyone’s wife and kids readily accessible to him at all times was… a pretty effective deterrent from treason, so Nozelena wouldn’t get to see each other often. Any time they would spend together would be very precious, and I hope I've depicted that feeling. 

Nozel’s haori hakama is not very traditional (usually it would be black with gold thread for the kamon, or family crest stitched onto the shoulders of the haori. You’ll see that where there’s meant to be a family crest, I’ve put the Silva cross), but there’s a reason for that. The EEO store New Year had a Nozel in a haori hakama that’s pretty close to the colors of the aosagi, or grey heron, and that gave me an idea. 

Grey herons carry connotations with mystery and death, which fits well for a man who has a secret about death that he can’t reveal to anyone or risk killing them too. Herons are also featured in an incredible kabuki performance called Sagi Musume. This dance was famously done by onnagata Bando Tamasaburo (link here to watch! He’s a Living National Treasure: I can’t recommend it enough). It’s tragic, but beautiful. 

Crows and herons are both somewhat related to death, which is likely part of the reason that it’s intimated that the two lovers in Harunobu’s piece are walking to commit a double suicide. However, changing one of the birds in the metaphor to a crane lightens up the metaphor and makes it much more hopeful, which I associate with this ship. As spring comes in and the white snow melts away to reveal budding plum blossoms, so too does a little sun shine on the grey heron, trapped in his secret and closed off from the world. 

Or something like that. It’s pretty pretentious, but I enjoyed thinking about this relationship and conceptualizing the metaphors I wanted to use for this drawing.

Ai ai Gasa

The Met writes about Harunobu’s piece: “The couple walk together in the quietly falling snow, in what is known as an ai ai gasa pose, literally, the sharing of an umbrella and love.” I kept this pose for Nozel and Helena – I knew I wanted something to do with a paper umbrella, since our girl has paper magic. In the starting sketches, he was holding the umbrella over her head while she reached for koi in the river (koi in Japanese is a homophone for love), but this version of the pose is both more historically aligned and cuter in my opinion.

The umbrella actually exists. 

This is a wagasa – a Japanese umbrella – made by Matsuda Wagasa in Kanazawa. It has Helena’s signature red as well as a Hangetsu/half moon pattern. Kanazawa umbrellas are different from any other wagasa makers in the country, and a dying craft. Matsuda is the only store left that still makes Kanazawa-style wagasa. I know no one on this site really has any money, but if you want to buy a piece of long-lasting, living art, please consider supporting them. 

The Poem

The writing that you see in the corner is a famous poem from the Kokinshu. However you ask me, “Alex. This is the Edo period. That’s the 1700s. This poem was from the 890s. The EIGHT. NINETIES. Why the hell are you using poetry in Classical Japanese? No one from the Edo period could understand something that was written 800 years ago at the time.” And to that I say: that’s a very logical conclusion! However, you are WRONG, because there’s nothing LOGICAL about ELEGANT, AESTHETIC PERFECTION!!! 

Classical Japanese (theoretically the Japanese used from around 900 to 1100) was used well into the Meiji period (1868-1912) whenever someone wanted to sound fancy or official. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of poems about plum blossoms and spring, but I picked this one for a reason. Harunobu often included poems in his work to poke light fun at them, but the inclusion of this poem in my drawing was perfectly serious. I’ll leave you with it to close out the explanation of this drawing. I hope seeing this piece of art has given you a happy and soft feeling, even if it’s only brief – I love Helena, I love this ship a lot, and I appreciate how hard Lola has worked to understand Nozel’s character and create an OC that plays well with him. I know only a few people who have put in the time and effort to meet Nozel where he’s at instead of trying to make him into something he isn’t. I imagine that for a man who has experienced so much death and made so many mistakes in his life, Nozel’s feelings for Helena are somewhat like this poem. 

梅が香を袖にうつしてとどめてば春は過ぐとも形見ならまし

mume ga ka wo/sode ni utsushite/todometeba/haru wa sugutomo/katami naramashi

If only the plums' scent/would shift to my sleeves and/stay there, then/even when spring is past and gone/a keepsake it would be...