#so i’ll need to live with the fact that i will Not get new things new comments and whilst i love seeing them and replying to them. That’s

[asexualjedi]

Crossing my fingers like pls don’t end the show with Ted going back to Kansas of tedbecca or at the very least not both well actually. Which is funny like. If they want to do tedbecca it would only work for me if she was not his boss which would work if like Ted went back to Kansas but like I don’t want Rebecca’s story to have her just fuck off to Kansas I don’t think that would be good for her.

[narugen]

feeling bad again 😧

[militaryapple]

SHE'S SWEET LIKE CANDY!

synopsis. you spot something when you're out at the mall with tara. you cant help but think about your boyfriend who's at work doing the best he can, so why not give him a little gift?

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, praise, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, face fucking, cunnilingus, making him whine, petnames, make him beg for you girl, well its caleb so he a lil nasty icl, nicest I've written caleb

add ons. THIS LITERALLY CAME INTO MY HEAD WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG OHH MY GODDDD GUYSSSHEBDHEB

wc. 2.9k

it wasn’t everyday you wore lingerie. actually, you didn’t even wear it. you thought the clothing was cute - sexy even! it just.. wasn’t something you were much into. well that was until you saw the set hanging up in a store you passed with tara. you couldn’t take your eyes off it - everytime you found yourself circling around back to the store at the mall, tara now being annoyed with you.

“i thought you weren’t that into lingerie?” she nudges you. she was right— you weren’t, but the thought of you putting it on, spreading yourself on the bed, waiting for him to come home and devour you. the sensation. you needed to buy this - it was a sign.

“i wasn’t” you retorted. sure, you didn’t really think of yourself as the type of woman to put on a show, but you couldn’t help but think about how he’d look at you. maybe he’d slowly glide your hands over the baby doll shaped dress, his hands would gently fondle your tits until your moaning for him - maybe his mouth would kiss all around you while he told you how gorgeous you looked in your newly bought clothes.

you needed that matching set.

“but trying something new wouldn’t hurt, right? it’s pretty cute too ‘tars” you nudged her back. your eyes flickered away from the glass that so proudly showed off the matching set going to your friend. tara glanced from you, to the set, back to you. her eyes scrutinizing you, her gaze watching your movements, face and even posture. it went until a moment after she moved her hands to her mouth. her face contorting into a shocked expression.

“you’re trying to impress - no, show out for someone!” tara yelled in a hush. this wasn’t a question, it was pure fact to her. oh how you hated how correct she was too, fine. you were trying to show out for someone. she wasn’t going to know that. she wouldn’t let you live it down. for sakes it was for caleb after all! part of you thinks he does deserve a little sweet treat for all the hard work he’s been doing for you.

“whaaaaaat? no! what makes you think that? i’m just.. getting more comfortable in my skin y’know?” you tried to avoid her gaze. it was scary how accurate she was on most things, like, crazy accurate. maybe you should cut her off from those spiritual classes, they were obviously working horrible wonders for her.

tara tried to hide the snicker that was coming from her. her hands returning back to her sides before she grabbed your wrist. “fine fine, let’s go get you fitted in the set you’re eyeing. i’ll pay for it - think of it as a celebration! i’ve been waiting for this moment!” you could only sigh.

this was going to be a long while.

when you finally returned home, you thanked tara before rushing up to your door and making your way inside. you could admit, you were partly excited. you couldn’t see yourself fully in the set but based off tara’s inputs you looked ‘totally sexy!’ whatever. you checked your phone and looked at the text that caleb sent you, your face in a smile.

“be home soon pip’s! can’t wait to see what you bought back home! hopefully you got me a gift :)”

oh, you got him a gift. you sure did. you couldn’t help the excited kicks you did before getting the house ready. you started the shower and made sure to get your good razor and body scrub. your washing routine being extra careful. you got out, now scrambling to dry off and get the set.

it took you a minute but you got it on, you rushed back to your bathroom and started to do your hair and makeup, making sure it was subtle but enough to give you a little boost. oh and were you were feeling yourself. anxiously, you made your way to your mirror. your gaze glancing over your body, your face, hair. you looked put together.

you giggled to yourself, striking a pose or two and taking a photo. did you want to surprise caleb when he got home? yes, yes you did. but could you contain yourself? no. no you couldn’t. you set up your room and cleaned up the house a bit before making your way to your bed and settling down. you whipped out your phone and sent a pretty little text to caleb.

“i got you a little something on the side too, wanted to show you now. i can’t wait til you come home, hurry :(” - 1 photo attached.

your bit your finger anxiously. he read it. no response. your mind wandered, what if he didn’t like it? is he weirded out now? did he not want to see you like this? god were you anxious. you couldn’t stand waiting; especially since he didn’t reply to you.

it didn’t take long until you heard the rattling of your door, your head perking up as you got back into the position you were in. he’s home. you scrambled around while the rattling stop and sounds of footsteps filled the air, getting closer and closer to your room.

your door creaked open, caleb stood there, his gaze unwavering from you. his eyes fixed on you while a smile creeped on his face. “so i didn’t imagine it.” he said softly. “welcome home, honey.” you said back oh so sweetly.

caleb didn’t take any time when it came to you, his hands finding their way around your body, his lips kissing every part of you that he could feel. how euphoric this was for both you and him. you were so sweet for him, he could almost cry. “so,” he said whispering, his head digging into your neck. “what made you get dolled up for me? hm? did i do something good?” his voice was intoxicating. how he spoke with such urgency but he was so gentle.

“hmm.. well you’ve been working so hard for me. you deserved something.” you smiled, your hands finding his. caleb felt like he could melt. just for him? for working like he’s always done? oh fuck, it was enough to make his cock twitch with eagerness.

“who am i to deny something so sweet? especially since it’s a gift from you.” he grabbed your hips, turning you over so he could see you on top of him. you were beautiful. his hands roamed around your body, he couldn’t get enough of you. your curves, the way you swayed your hips, how you arched so naturally for him, how you were made for him.

your hands found their way to his face, and he couldn’t help but lean into them letting out a soft moan. “you look really pretty, and I mean ‘fuckin gorgeous.” his words were shaky. his eyes dawned on you. your hands making their way to his jaw, then to his lips. glazing over them slightly before you bent down to give him kisses. such a good idea to wear lipstick.

your lips stained his body, it was proof. proof on how you owned him, how he was yours forevermore. caleb couldn’t help but snicker. “you having fun there?” and you nodded. you reached for his uniform, undoing it and tossing his clothes to the side. your pussy throbbed at the sight of him like this. he was so fucking pretty, like a puppy. the way his eyes looked up at you in a way where he was pleading you to let him ruin your body. the way your lipstick matched such a perfect shade for his skin and how messy his lips looked.

he looked fucking messy, and you haven’t even started.

caleb gripped your thighs, “cmon baby don’t be like that, I’m dying here.” his hips rolling - sending a shiver down your spine. you let out a moan, your hands running down his exposed chest. “i know baby” you coo. your hands moving back, finding his cock and palming it through his pants. you could drink up this sight of him and it was one of the days where his robotic arm was exposed? you were in heaven.

“fuck, fuck fuck fuck, that feels good - real good, please,” his hips bucking up. your hands sliding away while his moans turned into pleas. caleb squeezed on your hip. “no, no no no please baby let me, I’ve been a real good boy.” oh fuck did that do something to you. his face soft with an sad expression. he was so so cute you couldn’t help but tease him. your cunt throbbed from negligence. you leaned down and kissed him again, smiling. “then be a good dog and eat me out.”

you settled your body on his face, not sitting fully but enough for him to taste you. caleb let out a scoff before grabbing your thighs and tugging you down, pushing all your weight on him. “oh cmon baby, i wanna taste all of you.” and that’s what he did. caleb licked your folds and sucked on your nub, his tongue licking your slit and drinking up your arousal. he was eating you out like a starved man.

your hands gripped on his hair, your hips swayed on his lips to his nose. oh fuck did he feel good. caleb used his hands to feel your bra. it was nice, pretty. it suit you so fucking well, fuck you were his pretty girl. he whimpered, allowing you to ride his face. what’d they say? save a plane & ride a pilot? whatever it was, this was fucking it.

caleb placed sloppy kisses around your entrance, using his evol to keep you down while he was able to continue touching you. “if you keep moving baby, i can’t eat my dinner properly.” he chuckled. his tongue finding itself inside your dripping cunt, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. fuck he was a natural. you twitched while calebs mouth worked wonders on you.

“caleb — caleb ‘m gonna, oh oh please make me cum make me cum,” you whined. his mouth picking up speed as he kissed and licked you. fuck did he make you stupid. caleb placed his last kiss before he felt you twitch. his evol letting you move freely while he flipped you both. “look at your panties baby, they’re all soaked now.” he teased.

you couldn’t help but push him a little. caleb snickered before removing his gloves, his fingers now freed while he kissed your chest. “gonna make you cum a few more times ‘kay?” he smiled. before you could respond his fingers disappeared and your stomach does flips. his fingers big, and long, making your toes curl. “oh fuck, you’re so good caleb — so fucking good for me.”

caleb couldn’t deny, hearing you praise him make his cock throb. he wanted to make you feel like heaven and earth combined. his fingers curling upward making your gasp for air, his thumb rubbing circles on the nub of your clit. “aw baby, i really make you feel that good?” he teased. you grabbed his arm nodding and whining. you wiggled under him - your eyes glistening.

“gonna cum? cmon say you are.” he coo’d. you moaned, body shaking as you tried to at least form a sentence. “yes yes yes ‘m close please please please” god you sounded pathetic under him. he loved it. your walls clenched on his fingers as he stretched you and kissed you. “okay, cum for me then pretty baby.”

you did exactly that. coating his fingers with your juices. you felt weak, and caleb sat up. “what about me baby? i need to cum to.” he said sadly. his cock practically imprinting on his pants. you couldn’t just leave your dear boyfriend like this. you got up, pulling on his waistband and revealing his dick. did he seem.. bigger???

“from all the teasing you’re doing to me. not to mention this cute little outfit you got on.” his face wide in a smile. his tip was swollen, pink and veiny. curling up just enough to hit every one of your sweet spots. you saw the pre-cum that leaked from his slit and you couldn’t help but give it kisses.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby.” caleb moaned, his hand making its way around your hair, and rubbing your chin.

you looked up at him, swirling your tongue around his tip. fucking perfect. was all he was able to think before you used your other hand to start pumping his cock.

he was big, it took a minute for you to relax your lips and jaw around his head, but once you felt okay; your mouth slammed on him. caleb cried out when he felt you start sucking him. his hands that were once gentle and soft now rough; grabbing your hair and bucking his hips up.

you let your tongue relax while caleb grabbed your head and rammed his cock in your mouth, abusing your throat. “i can’t help it ‘m sorry please you feel so good - so tight.” he pleas. your eyes on him while he looks completely drunk off you. he was such a pretty fucker.

his cock tightened, and your throat slacken. caleb looked down at you and moved his hands to your face. plugging your nose.

it didn’t take long for caleb to be slamming into your mouth aimlessly. his hips spurt and a ‘pop!’ sound comes from your mouth, caleb’s dick hitting your face while he came all over it. you gasped and moan. “thaaaat’s it pretty girl.”

caleb moved behind you, his hands cupping your bra then moving to the straps, undoing the clips and taking the bra off. “the sheer gown stays on.” he kisses your neck. “you look so pretty in it.”

he pushed you down gently, bringing your ass up and aligning his cock with your entrance. caleb bit his lip, “need you to relax up a little okay?” he asked, and then he eased his way in. you felt so fucking warm. the way you clenched around his cock so nicely - how he stretched you even after prepping you. it was delicious.

caleb thrusted into you, hitting your cunt in all different ways. his pace picking up speed while he groaned. “got all pretty for me, do you know how hard it was to keep my composure at work?” he whined, snapping his hips back to you. his abs rocking against you. “couldn’t even jerk myself, fuck fuck, I came home as soon as I could just for you baby.”

he was mean. his tip kissing your cervix over and over again making you into a wobbly slobbering mess of cries and moans. caleb brought his hand down right between your thighs, rubbing circles over your already crying cunt. “reeeaal nasty girl you got here baby.” he teased you, placing a kiss on your back.

caleb grabbed your hips, slamming into you continuously. you couldn’t help but rock your hips attempting to match his pace. fuck did he like the view. his pretty baby, who once was dolled up now defiled into a pathetic whiny mess. “caleb - caleb,” you whined in your pillow. makeup smearing everywhere, nice one. now you have to buy a new pillow set.

you felt yourself getting close.

it was coming fast.

you lifted your head, moaning at the feeling of caleb’s cock burying itself back into your walls and out again. euphoric. “i feel weird. so weird baby please —”

caleb hushed you “i know baby it’s okay, im close too, yeah? come on baby come on.” he coo’s. caleb’s hips snapped and you felt a little ‘pop!’ and then a nudge near your stomach. he was in. fully. you moaned and gripped your sheets, tears streaming down your face as caleb fucked you like he was in heat.

caleb nipped at your tits, he fucking loved them. how perky and sensitive they were, how everytime he kissed them you whined in response, hell, caleb loved everything about your body. when it came to you he wanted to touch and explore you. his pretty doll.

he grabbed your arms, bringing you up and kissing your neck. “cum for me baby, cmon you can do it.” he hummed. oh how those words felt like heaven for you. it wasn’t until you started twitching as caleb now thrusted slower into you, and then it happened.

you sprinkled out a clear liquid on his cock. twitching and moaning while it dripped everywhere, you panted and whined. your body relaxing as you collapse while caleb came right inside your cunt. grunting, watching the little show you gave him.

caleb pulled out of you in awe. “did you just squirt all over me?” he teased you. you heaved, letting out small “m sorry”s. caleb could only chuckle at the sight.

“it’s fine baby, it was a show for me. felt good!” he smiled. caleb could see you were tapping out, breathing heavily as your lingerie was now messy with sweat, cum and what he liked to call ‘pussy juice.’ he smiled, his eyes looking over you and then placing a kiss on your cheek as you flopped to your side.

“i’ll get the water running, this was a nice gift princess. i might start buying you more lingerie sets from now on.” he chuckled before walking out the room.

yeah, maybe you could get used to this.

[ghstzzn]

roommates for dummies!

pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.

part one! wc: 5.7k

tags/warnings (for this part): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), threesome(s), fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, pullout method, oral ( m rec), deepthroating, cum eating/cum play/just cum stuff ig, voyeurism, degradation, name calling, some praise, manhandling, sex standing up idk just trust me, no aftercare, silly bit at the end, heeseung thinks he's sooooo funny! that's it for this part i believe.

🍊: havent posted smth fr in awhile kind of nervous. not much happens except sex but thats the point of this. by the way this is one of three/four parts ♡ enjoy and Uhhhhhh uhhhuhhh uhhhhhhhh

masterlist / part two

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

you savored every second you spent outside of your new home.

sure, you were beyond grateful to have a place to live. in fact, you were lucky considering how quickly you got in this situation. losing your old place due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a, your ex boyfriend kicking you out of his apartment after you caught him cheating on you despite you paying more than half of his rent.

though, you figured his new girlfriend could handle that portion now.

you crashed on your friends couch for a few days, actively searching for anyone looking for a new roommate. she assured you that you could stay as long as you needed, and there was no need to rush, but you were stubborn and had quite the false sense of being independent. 

which is why you clicked on the first ad you saw. a nice five bedroom house, the spare having its own bathroom and it was closer to campus unlike your last apartment. you couldn’t find much information on the poster, but you were desperate so you quickly dialed in the number on screen and waited while it rang.

you were taken aback when a male voice loudly boomed from the other side. you pulled the phone away from your ear and double checked the number— it was typed in correctly.

“hello?” he spoke again. “hellooooooo-”

“uh, sorry.” you cleared your throat. “i saw an ad online that you were looking for a new roo-”

the male cuts you off, “yeaahhh. man, was wondering when someone would respond.” you cringe at the way he interrupted you. “you lookin’ for someone else? no offense but you sound a little… y’know, like a girl.”

you let out a sigh, nodding even though he couldn’t see you, “i’m calling for myself… i wasn’t aware you were a man but– actually, i’m a little desperate.”

“yeah? desperate?” he chuckles. you raise an eyebrow at the response. “alright, can you meet me here then?”

caught off guard once more by the sudden eagerness of the stranger, you stuttered out a quick yes.

“cool. i’ll text you the address n’ shit.”

the phone hangs up, not sparring you a moment to respond. you blink as you stare at your phone, watching as you receive a few messages from the number you had just called. 

at least you had other options if this didn’t go as planned.

jake spun around in the barstool at the kitchen island, letting out a puff of air as he waited patiently.

“you waiting for something?” jake turns his head towards the voice. jay walks through the kitchen, chewing on some kind of protein bar.

the antsy male leans forward against the counter, “our new roomie. she said she’d be here ten minutes ago.”

“oh.” jay responds before stopping in his tracks as he actually lets jakes words enter his brain. “wait, what? new roommate? she?”

“yeah man,” jake lets out another huff. “she’s late.”

“no, run that back.” the other male draws circles into the air. “when the fuck did we get a new roommate? and why is it a woman?”

“we have a new roommate?” another voice rings through the kitchen.

jake turns around in his chair with a sigh, “yes guys! jeez, you all need to learn patience– she’ll be here soon.”

“she?” the voice, belonging to heeseung, questions. 

“that’s what i’m wondering!”

“ladies please, one at a time.” the male stands from his seat. “we have a new roommate, yes. she’s a woman, also yes.”

heeseung furrows his eyebrows, thinking for a moment before jay speaks up once more, “don’t we get a say in this? or at least some type of interview?”

“is she hot?” heeseung chimes in immediately after, receiving a scoff from jay.

“totally.” jake snickers. “her voice told me enough about her. sounded so nervous too, it was cute.”

“you don’t even know what she looks like?”

“you seriously only think with that dick of yours.” heeseung comments, shaking his head.

“says you!” jay frowns at the other roommate.

the doorbell rings twice, drawing the attention from all three males. heeseung straightens his posture, quickly checking his appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel refrigerator. jay finishes his protein bar in one bite and clears his throat.

jake rolls his eyes at the two, “careful now, don’t pop a boner in front of her.”

he practically skips over to the door, almost giggling out loud. he pulls the front door open just before you ring the doorbell once more. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

you look him up and down, quite shocked at the attractive face he had.

“uh, yeah, sorry about that.” you respond, clearing your throat. “traffic was heavy.”

“that’s okay, babe.” he opens the door wider, inviting you in, not even hiding the way his eyes immediately land on your ass as you walk in front of him.

your gaze immediately fell on a taller man with red hair, who you assumed was heeseung (you weren’t viewing this house without stalking the people who resided in it), now wearing a beanie and leaned over the counter with his chin resting on his hand. he shot you a crooked smile and waved his fingers at you. 

“hey roomie.”

jay looks at the man in disbelief; and so do you.

“i’m actually just here to tour and interview… right?” you turn to look at jake who shrugs.

“i mean we all agreed you could move in.”

“since whe-”

jake cuts jay off and steps closer to you, “you said you were desperate right? you don’t seem like a weirdo or a bitch so just give us a move-in date and you’re good.”

you squint your eyes at him, confused and questioning this entire thing. your friend's couch doesn’t seem like a bad idea, she even offered to renew her lease for a bigger space in a few months. 

“we promise we won't bother you or anything,” he continues, “you have your own bathroom and the door has a working lock. swear on our lives you’ll barely see us.”

before you could even respond, the front door opens and slams shut. a taller man walks past you and jake, clearly locked into whatever was on his phone. he continued to walk past the kitchen before stopping and spinning around.

“new roommate.” heeseung tells him. the other male lets out an “oh” and nods his head at you before walking away, probably to his room.

you let out a sigh and the three remaining boys turn their attention back to you.

“can i just see the room?” 

-

bothering you was the only thing these fools ever did. 

the front door shuts with a slam and you’re immediately greeted by heeseung sprawled out on the couch scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the mess leftover from their small house party from last night. the one that kept you up half the night despite begging them to turn in early for the sake of your sanity.

you run your hands through your hair, frustrated that the house looks exactly the same as it did early this morning. well, save for the leftover food that heeseung managed to put in the fridge. kicking off your shoes, you make your way into the kitchen and grab the trash bag that was left on the counter and start tossing all the empty beer cans and disposable cups in.

heeseung looks up from his phone to find the source of the angry slams and movements, smirking when his eyes land on you.

“woah there,” he calls out to you, “wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

you look up from the trash bag, throwing a can in it with so much force it somehow bounces out, only fueling your anger, “save it.”

heeseung chuckles, standing up from the couch and stretching while letting out an obnoxious groan. he walks around the couch and leans against the back of it.

“are you gonna help or just stand there?” you motion towards the mess on the counters.

“no, yeah, i think i'll just stand here. i’m kind of loving this scene with you in the kitchen.” 

you look at him, disbelief written all over your face, “so you’re lazy and a misogynist, nice!”

“what? no,” heeseung looks almost offended at your accusation. “no, babe, i’m not a misogynist– i literally love pussy. i could prove that to you right now if you’d like.”

“not a misogynist, just horny. got it.” 

your roommate only shrugs and pulls out his phone once more. the carefree attitude of his was only adding to the frustration building in your chest. you cross your arms and glance around. “where are the others?”

heeseung hums, you only assume he’s using the full power of his brain as he recalls the whereabouts of the other three roommates, but really he’s only focusing on how your tits bounce ever so slightly with every angry movement if your arms.

“jake’s asleep, jay’s attending a group meditation and sunghoon… should be home in a few. why? miss them?”

you wanted nothing more than to take the metal scrub pad near the sink and scrub at the stupid smirk on his face. instead, you nod and take a deep breath.

the door opens just on cue however. sunghoon walks in, kicking his shoes off in two different directions with a bag of full of bottles clinking against each other. the noise of the liquor bottles only added to your rage.

“really? more alcohol?” you comment and point towards the counter where a few unopened and opened bottles sat. “you have all of this– plus the entire mini fridge full of drinks.”

sunghoon raises a brow at you, “okay. but that’s liquor for functions, not me.”

you wave your hands in front of you. it made zero sense to you.

the taller male looks at sunghoon, “what’s wrong with her?”

“man, i don't know.” heeseung replies with a sigh, “she came in here all pissy and started slamming shit.”

they were having a conversation about you– in front of you.

“what? why?”

he shrugs again, “like i said, don't know. maybe she should follow jay to one of his meditation sessions.”

you roll your eyes, “you’re not funny, heeseung.” he lets out a snicker. you grab a rag from the counter and chuck it in his direction.

sunghoon whistles at the action and sets the bags he was holding onto the counter.

“i’m seriously regretting this whole living arrangement.”

heeseung pouts and crosses his arms over his chest dramatically, “hey! we aren’t that bad to live with.” he protests, though his tone is playful. “at least give us a chance to redeem ourselves. look, we’ll help clean up the rest of the mess.”

you sigh and nod, it’s the least they could do but you won't protest. turning around, you glance at sunghoon, who was now storing away the liquor he had bought and the leftover bottles. 

“...except, it looks like you’ve finished.” heeseung grins. “thanks, darling.”

you shoulders fall in defeat, “i fucking hate you.”

he chuckles loudly as you study the room. he was right. you had completely cleaned the kitchen, minus the few liquor bottles that sunghoon had just stored away.

“no, no. she missed one thing.” sunghoon calls out causing the two of you to whip your heads in his direction. he crouches down and picks up the can that bounced out of the trash bag earlier and tosses it in the trash. “hah, how funny is that? it was right next to the bag too.”

heeseungs no longer holding back his laughter. you question whether or not the dude is blasted out of his mind right now because you definitely didn’t find a single thing about this funny.

“hey, chill.” sunghoon butts in, “i’ll wipe down the counters and shit.”

you turn to face him, “did you by chance buy any cleaning supplies while out?”

“no, why?”

heeseung laughs louder, wiping at his eyes. 

“i really don’t understand what could possibly be so funny about any of this.”

his laughter eventually dies down, finally shutting up. “sorry, sorry.” he clears his throat. “but seriously, thanks for cleaning up. you’re a real one for that.”

you hum and let out a sarcastic sure, heeseung nods and walks past you, patting your shoulder causing you to scrunch your face in disgust. you turn to follow his figure with your eyes, but you catch sunghoon staring at you.

“what?”

“hm, nothing. just wondering when you’re gonna snap out of your little tantrum.” he responds calmly, leaning against the counter. “it’s getting old, to be honest with you.”

you bite your lip, holding back a response to him. you watch as heeseung wipes his hand on a paper towel, throwing it on the counter right after.

sunghoon sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “seriously, what’s the big deal? nobody here is forcing you to clean up after us.”

“but it’s all the time,” you groan. “the constant parties and get-togethers you host while i’m trying to sleep after a long day or studying– then having to come out and clean it all up because you three are nowhere to be seen? i can only deal with so much.”

his expression hardens and heeseung leans against the counter with a bored expression, “well, maybe if you’d let loose for once and joined in on the fun every once in a while, instead of holing yourself up in your room like a hermit, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

“fuck off.”

sunghoon scoffs, “my point exactly. you��re so uptight and bitchy— it’s not fun. you aren’t better than us for that.”

“sorry i don’t want to be involved in your weird ass parties.” you respond with a shrug.

“such a princess,” heeseung giggles, “always complaining, never participating. seriously, they aren’t as bad as you make them seem.” 

sunghoon nods in agreement, “yeah, i’m telling you that you’d be able to tolerate us a lot more if you cared to let go of that boring, angry personality of yours and showed up.”

you throw your hands up, more than done with the conversation. “whatever, i don’t care anymore. just… just clean up a little more. it’s all i ask.”

heeseung pouts exaggeratedly, eyeing the way you surrender in defeat “oh come on, princess. don’t be like that.” he tries to sound apologetic, “we’re only messing around with you.”

“yeah! we don’t care if you prude around alone in your room!” sunghoon adds, “but just for you, we’ll clean up after ourselves, your highness.”

“you both are childish.” you spit out, biting the inside of your cheeks as the frustration threatens to spill out in the form of tears.

heeseung grins, not at all put off by your insult, “childish? rich coming from the girl who’s about to cry from a little teasing.” he taunts, voice laced with amusement.

you scoff in response, turning around so you could leave the situation and escape to your room, but sunghoon has other plans as he steps right in front of you. his arms automatically wrap around your waist to steady you, his face mere inches away from you as you look up at him, shooting him a glare.

“where do you think you’re going, princess?” he flashes you a knowing smile, voice low and teasing.

you attempt to lean away from his face that only seems to inch closer, jumping slightly when the back of your head comes into contact with heeseungs chin. “to my room– away from the two of you.”

“oh, don’t let us stop you then.” heeseung grins from behind, his cheek nuzzling against your hair. 

“let me go then?”

“but we weren’t done,” sunghoon attempts to feign a pout, but his smirk grows stronger as he studies the way your body reacts to him, “we still have to thank you for cleaning the mess up.”

heeseung hums against your ear, “seriously. how sweet of you, doll.”

“you can thank me by leaving me alone.” you mumble, though you do nothing to back away from the situation. you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat sped up from being sandwiched between the two, or the way your core pulsed from the way sunghoon traced small patterns into your side.

sunghoon chuckles, all knowing of what was running through your mind, “aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he asks, hands sliding down to your hips, giving them a teasing squeeze. “we love spending time with our favorite roomie.”

your hands fall on top of his, unsure on whether or not you should remove them from your hips. his eyes follow the movements of your hands, letting out a soft chuckle as he watches the way your mind struggles against the need you feel for the two.

“mm, not so fast baby.” heeseung purrs, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. “what did we say? gotta give you a proper thank you.”

“how?”

sunghoon smiles, looking at heeseung before turning his attention back to you. “they say actions speak louder than words,” he responds. “we’ll make sure to make it very clear just how grateful we are for you.”

you gulp as he responds, your thighs clenching together at the tone of his voice. the gaze in his eyes told you exactly what the two men wanted from you, the way they looked at you as if you were prey.

heeseung grows impatient from behind, his face nuzzling against your skin as he peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches your shoulder, biting the skin causing you to let out a gasp. he chuckles darkly before tucking his finger under the thin strap of your tank top and letting it fall off your shoulder.

he lifts his head and switches to your other shoulder, resting his chin on your shoulder as he travels his hand down your torso, reaching the waistband of your shorts.

your automatic response is to grab his hands but sunghoon shakes his head and grabs them, linking his fingers between yours and bringing them up to his shoulders. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting your cheek.

sunghoon begins planting soft but deliberate kisses against your skin, following the trail that heeseung had left earlier, kissing and sucking the bite mark left by the other male.

the man behind you takes the chance, shoving his hand down your shorts that he had undone moments before while you were distracted. he grins when he doesn’t feel any other fabric beneath your shorts.

“isn’t that just convenient?” he grins, giddy at the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear. 

“w-wait,” you stutter out, suddenly aware of where you were standing.

sunghoon grips one of your hands, guiding it over his chest, “shh, it’s fine.”

heeseungs hand dips lower, his middle finger sliding through your slit. he lets out a groan before removing his hand from your shorts but quickly yanks them down, letting them fall to your ankles.

you let out a small yelp due to the quickness of the male. he glides his finger from your dripping hold, gathering your slick and moving to your clit, tapping it a few times before pressing down. 

“can’t believe you’re already this wet just from a little bit of touching,” he groans against your shoulder. “really thought we’d have to ease you into this– but you wanted this bad, huh?”

sunghoon smirks against your neck, lifting his head, wanting to see your face as heeseung pleasures you with his fingers, “c’mon, don’t tease her. poor girl probably hasn’t been touched properly in awhile.”

“is that true?” the male behind you questions softly but teasing, “were you just waiting for one of us to fuck you stupid?”

their teasing voices combined with heeseungs fingers massaging at your clit cause you to let out a soft whine. one buck of your hips has sunghoon reaching down and holding your hips in place for heeseung to continue his attack on your sensitive bud.

“you don’t even have to respond,” sunghoon mutters, “look at the way you’re whining and squirming.”

heeseung slips a finger in your core, pumping a few times before slipping another one inside of you. the feeling of your warm cunt walls wrapped around his fingers is enough to send him reeling, he grinds his hips into your ass with a grunt. 

the male in front of you has to tighten his grip on your hips, rolling his eyes. you let out a loud moan when heeseung curls his fingers inside of you, he brings his other hand to cover your mouth.

“don’t wanna wake jakey up, do you?” his voice is low, hot breath hitting the side of your face. you shake your head desperately as he continues to finger fuck you, scissoring and curling his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.

“look at her, hee.” sunghoon mumbles, admiring the way you look between the two men, “so pretty like this, isn’t she? if i knew this was a good way to get her to shut up, i'd have done it earlier.”

heeseung chuckles darkly, lips trailing against your neck once more, “she’s so fuckin’ greedy too. literally dripping down my hand… aren’t you, baby?”

you let out a muffled whine and nod your head shamelessly. 

“yeah? you’re doing so good like this,” he continues, “but i think you need more.”

heeseung pulls his fingers out of you and removes his hand from your mouth. you’re about to question him but he’s pushing you forward while pulling your hips back against him. sunghoon holds you steady as the male behind you undoes his pants.

“take your time, hee.” sunghoon comments, slowly losing his patience. “jay’s gonna be home soon.”

“‘m fucking trying,” he mutters in response, successfully freeing his hardened cock with his one hand. “hold her still and shut up.”

sunghoon rolls his head back in irritation and tightens his grip on you.

“you’ll need to cover her mouth too. i’m not sharing her between you and jake today.”

your taller roommate doesn’t respond again but brings his hand up to your mouth with a smirk. you whimper softly through his hand when you feel heeseung slide his tip through your wetness, gathering it on his cock. he rocks his hips a few times, teasing your clit before catching onto your hole and slowly pushing in.

“fuuuck,” he hisses. “she’s so damn tight, sunghoon.”

“just fuck her,” sunghoon responds impatiently, he tilts his head down at you. “that’s what you want right, babygirl?”

you let out a muffled grunt when heeseung bottoms out inside of you. he waits only a few moments before pulling out almost completely, then pushing back inside of you with more force and speed. 

the two men have you perfectly held in place, controlling the movements of your body as heeseung speeds up his thrusts. each rock of his hips draws out a moan from you, covered by sunghoons hand.

heeseung groans softly, his pace never slowing as he takes all the pleasure he can get from your body. “she’s seriously so tight.” he growls, his grip tightening on your body. “feel that? feel how well you wrap around my cock, baby?”

your eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. your cunt continues to squeeze around his cock as he pounds into you. sunghoon watches the way his roommates cock disappears inside of you, the way your juices glisten everytime he pulls out before slamming back in.

his own cock twitches in his pants, he’s so painfully hard and getting impatient. sunghoon wishes it were just him here instead of heeseung, wishing it were him being the one to fuck you– and only him. you let out a high pitch whine as heeseung speeds up his pace, his tip hitting your g-spot deliciously. he brings a hand down to rub at you clit, causing you to jump from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“mm, she jus’ gets tighter.” he slurs, drunk on the way your pussy sucks him in. “you like that, don’t you? shit.. y’gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

your eyes are shut, in a complete daze from the way his cock is fucking you. sunghoon smirks at the sight, in love with the way you’re fully enjoying every second of this.

“minutes ago you were about to rip our heads off,” he coos, “now you’re over here drooling on my hand over some cock. just a little slut, aren't you? maybe i was wrong about you being a prude.”

heeseung’s barely keeping it together behind you as his hips meet your ass with haste, hissing and groaning with each thrust. he’s uncoordinated and sloppy yet still hitting that spot deep inside of you, throwing your body towards sunghoon, who keeps a bruising grip on you as the other male pounds into you.

your past self would be embarrassed to see you now, yet, you couldn’t feel an ounce of shame at the moment. it feels as if heeseung’s fucking all the frustration out of you.

it’s dirty. the way the two men have you sandwiched in the kitchen— straight out of a cheap porno. every time you start to think about jay or jake strolling in and catching the three of you, it only makes your core throb more with need.

“what are you thinking about?” sunghoon whispers, leaning closer, offering his chest for your head to lean against. “hmm, baby? you thinking about something else while fucking yourself on heeseungs cock?”

the male mentioned lets out a loud groan, gripping your hips and pulling you back harder against him. you could tell he was close, as were you. your hands tug on the fabric of sunghoons shirt, attempting to pull yourself up. but with his hand on your mouth, you can’t let them know so you rely on your body language. 

“gonna cum for me?” heeseung grumbles, leaning closer to you. his thrusts are deep and rough as he chases his high. “c’mon, cum on this cock…” 

you feel your cunt flutter around him as you hit your peak, a muffled squeal leaving your mouth as you finally cum. heeseung pants, giving you a few more thrusts before pulling out completely and fisting his cock until he’s cumming all over your lower back and ass.

sunghoon removes his hand from your mouth causing you to take a deep breath, he wipes his hand on his pant leg which goes unnoticed by you. 

“jesus-” heeseung breathes out from behind you, hand gripping the counter. “fuck, that was good. why didn’t you tell me you felt this good before?”

you don’t reply to him– you just continue to lean against sunghoon as you regain all composure. the tall male keeps a hand on your waist as the other slowly unbuckles his belt. your other roommate redresses himself after using a paper towel to wipe himself down, giving your ass a small smack in the process.

“yo,” sunghoon calls out to him, earning a raised eyebrow in response. he cocks his head behind him. “keep jake in his room, yeah?”

“now?”

the man you were still using as support scoffs, “yes, dude. now..”

heeseungs stands there for a moment, looking at you as you finally turn around, slowly reaching to pull your shorts up. he clicks his tongue and walks off with a groan.

as soon as his footsteps fade away, sunghoon yanks your arm away from the article of clothing and pushes you against the kitchen counter. you gasp when the cold countertop makes contact with your skin. “s-sunghoon!”

he smacks his lips and pushes your sticky lower back down to keep you still, “you seriously thought i was about to let you walk away? after you made me watch him fuck you like that?”

he lifts his now cum covered hand off your back, studying it for a few moments. “not gonna let me have any fun? especially after you used me like a fucking wall?” he grips your face with his other hand, leaning over you as he shoves his fingers in your mouth.

the thick salty flavor hits your tongue immediately and you close your lips around his soaked fingers, the rest of the cum on his hand completely coating your chin and jaw. 

“you like that?” sunghoon chuckles darkly. “you know how pathetic you look right now?”

you groan around his fingers as he rocks his hips against you, grinding his bare cock in your slick. he doesn’t waste a second before shoving himself inside of you causing you to bite down on his fingers from the sudden full feeling once again.

sunghoon hisses in response, pulling out before roughly thrusting into you. the corner of the counter is digging into your hip but you couldn’t be bothered to resituate yourself. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and snakes his hand in between your thighs, pressing against your clit as he starts to pound into you. his other hand is on the back of your neck, a tight grip as he uses it to stabilize himself.

your own cum is dripping down your thighs as sunghoon’s cock forces it out with each thrust. it’s truly a struggle to stay quiet, your moans are coming out in rough whimpers and deep breaths. you lay your upper body flat against the counter and hide your face in your arms to help muffle your sounds of pleasure.

though it wouldn’t even matter if anyone could hear your cries because the sound of wet skin slapping against each other could surely be heard from the other side of the neighborhood. 

“fuck, you’re taking me so good right now. heeseung loosened you up for me, didn’t he?”  sunghoons voice is low and rough, almost stuttering over his words. “so fuckin’ greedy for cock– look at you.”

if it weren’t for your arms, your face would be squashed into the hard countertops from the sheer force of his hand around the back of your neck pushing it down. sunghoon doesn’t notice, nor does he care about his roughness because truly all he cares about is cumming. 

you can hear the door slam and you try to lift your hand, in sheer panic, but sunghoon shoves it back down with a grumble. 

“t’sup?” sunghoon lets out a sigh and throws his head back.

“nothing,” the voice, belonging to jay, responds. he throws a few envelopes on the counter and sighs. “another noise complaint– like dude, who fucking cares? they act like the cops are gonna bust us or something.”

never in a million years did you think you would be getting backshots while two people had a completely casual conversation as you were between them.

sunghoon groans, his pace barely slowing, “my parents own half this fuckin’ neighborhood.”

“that’s what i’m saying! these complaints are useless.” jay responds, an annoyed tone lacing his voice. “is that– y’know what, i’m tired. clean the counters when you’re done.”

and with that, jay is walking away. you only hope he’s heading to his bedroom. however, your entire body is hot with embarrassment yet you feel yourself about to cum any second.

“fuck– sunghoon! s-slow down.” you barely cry out as you cream around his cock. he rolls his eyes, not that you could see, before pulling out completely. 

you take a deep breath before he grabs you and spins you around, pushing you to your knees. your hands fly to his thighs, trying to catch yourself before bruising your knees. 

sunghoon spares you a wicked smirk before tapping the tip of his cock against your lips, in which you invite him in with zero hesitance. he doesn’t start slow, immediately pushing his cock to your throat, enough to bring tears to your eyes before pulling out to let you breathe.

and he does it again. and again. until you're coughing around his cock.

“yeah, just like that, baby.” the male sighs, hand gripping your hair. he lets you take another deep breath before shoving his cock deeper down your throat. “look at you gagging– fuck, this is so good.”

he repeats his actions until his cock is twitching with the need to cum. sunghoon gives a few thrusts before pulling back slightly and cumming all over your tongue and throat. his release was almost too much for you, but he didn’t care that it was dripping out of your mouth, or that you were borderline choking on it.

“swallow.”

you try to shake your head no but he only tugs on your hair, “you can.”

shakily, you cover your mouth as you gulp, swallowing his sticky release. sunghoon chuckles, completely satisfied. 

“you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” he cooes. his thumb, sticky with heeseungs earlier release, wipes at your tears. you can only stare at him as he continues to degrade you. “oh, don’t be ashamed, princess, it’s perfect for us.”

you wipe at the corner of your mouth before grabbing your shorts that are laid close by. grabbing the counter edge above, you pull yourself up, not at all wanting to ask for sunghoons help. he leans against the counter, fixing his belt, completely uninterested in you.

slipping the shorts on felt useless in front of him. what was there to hide at this point?

“i’m gonna shower.”

“yeah, sure. i’ll try not to use any hot water for the next hour.”

you give him a nod. well, this is fucking weird. but you honestly would rather take this than it be awkward. genuinely, you would rather not have him force himself to give you soft and sweet aftercare. 

“jays cooking tonight!” sunghoon calls out to you as you head back to your room. you roll your eyes and push your door open.

you: 

    hypothetically, i have this friend who wanted to move out of her current place because she HATES her roommates but she just fucked 2 of them…. at the same time and suddenly doesnt want to leave

from: chaewon 💓

       what the FUCK did u just say to me

you:

     so basically im fucked

🍊: @filmnings @deobitifull @leov3rse @hooniehon @roslayy @strxwbloody @cutiepatootiejungwon @jakeswifez @yuriknows @d-dilemma (bold couldn’t be tagged / taglist now closed!)

[thebarneschronicles]

Closer to Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.

A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx

Closer To Home Masterlist

--

Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.

It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.

“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You looked up to find Bucky leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. His voice was gruff but not unkind, his blue eyes shadowed but steady.

“It’s just a few blocks,” you replied, already bracing for the argument.

His jaw tightened—a subtle shift, but one you’d come to recognize as the start of his infamous stubborn streak. “Doesn’t matter. My ma would haunt me if I let you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Your 'ma' sounds like quite the character.”

“She was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue further, mostly because you were too tired to win, and partly because there was something oddly comforting about his protectiveness, even if it came wrapped in brooding silences and sharp glances.

Being around Bucky had taken some getting used to. You knew about him, of course—who didn’t? But nothing had prepared you for the sheer intensity of James Buchanan Barnes up close. His unrelenting stares, his quiet presence that somehow filled a room, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.

When you’d first joined their team as the “girl in the chair” (a term Sam insisted on despite your repeated protests that you were, in fact, a woman), you hadn’t known what to expect. Your days as a research journalist had been left behind in favor of a role that felt more like a sidekick to two superheroes. Never the hero, always the support.

“It’s not nothing, though,” Sam had told you once, catching you mid-eye-roll during a particularly grueling debrief. “You’re saving lives too, y’know. Every name, every address you dig up? That’s someone else’s tomorrow you’re protecting.”

Still, the job came with its own toll: exhaustion, migraines, and a constant ache in your wrists from hours of typing. But it also came with a quiet sense of purpose—and Bucky’s occasional company.

At first, his silences had been intimidating, his brooding presence almost oppressive. But you met him with unwavering kindness—bringing him coffee when he looked like he needed it, or letting him retreat into your office to escape Sam’s chatter. Slowly, the silences grew shorter, and the stares softened into something more watchful.

Now, walking beside him under the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet felt less like distance and more like understanding.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this a one-time chivalry thing, or do I get an official escort service from now on?”

Bucky snorted. “You’re assuming I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning. “Who else is benefitting from my safe arrival home?”

He glanced at you, a spark of humor flickering in his eyes. “Sam’ll never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you. Man loves his lectures.”

“Ah,” you said, mock-serious. “So I’m saving you from Sam’s wrath. Got it.”

He didn’t answer right away, but his pace slowed slightly, his hand brushing the base of your spine as you turned a corner, like he was directing towards home. “Maybe I just like making sure you’re okay,” he muttered.

Your heart stuttered at his words, a quiet ache blooming in your chest, but you didn’t dare press him further. Hope was a dangerous thing, a fragile spark that had burned you one too many times before. It was safer to tuck it away, to pretend his words meant nothing more than what he’d said—a simple gesture of kindness, nothing deeper.

You were friends, after all... right? Or at least, friendly. He was kind to you, yes, but Bucky Barnes was kind in a way that felt carefully measured, like a soldier fulfilling his duty. He was a gentleman through and through, the kind who’d been raised to believe it was his responsibility to make sure no lady faced the dangers of the night alone.

“His mah would’ve expected nothing less,” you thought wryly, your lips tugging into a faint smile.

He was a man out of time, after all. Decades removed from the era he was born into, yet somehow still anchored there, even now. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rules he followed were the same ones ingrained into him all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to believe that than to let yourself hope he cared for any reason beyond habit or honor.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His hand hovered near your elbow, steady and sure, as if ready to catch you should you stumble.

The steps to your door loomed far too quickly for your aching heart, bringing an abrupt end to your time with the brooding soldier. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if your body was reluctant to leave his quiet, steady presence.

You paused on the final step, its height almost eliminating the difference between you and Bucky. It gave you just enough courage to look up at him, your fingers nervously twisting around the strap of your purse.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his head in a single nod, his icy blue eyes flickering down to meet yours. His expression, as always, was unreadable, cast in shadows under the dim streetlamp. “Anytime.”

The simplicity of his reply made your chest tighten. You nodded in return, swallowing hard as your heart hammered in your throat. Turning away from him, you fixed your gaze on your front door, willing yourself to move forward, to end the moment before it unraveled you completely.

Friends. That’s all this was. It had to be.

So why did it feel so wrong to turn your back on him? Why did it feel like you were forcing yourself to betray something deeper, something unspoken, simply by walking away?

Your hand was on the doorknob before you realized you’d stopped moving, the quiet war between your heart and your mind reaching a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut, battling the urge that rose in you like a wave.

Don’t do it. Just go inside. Let him leave.

But the battle was already lost. Before you could stop yourself—before logic could wrestle control away from the reckless beating of your heart—you turned. Your feet moved without permission, carrying you back down the steps toward him.

It wasn’t a decision so much as a pull, steady and undeniable, the words slipping from your lips as if carried on a tide of longing you couldn’t resist.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?”

The words tumbled out unbidden, your voice trembling just enough to betray how desperately you wanted him to say yes.

His reaction couldn’t have been more Bucky if he tried. His eyes shifted, and you swore you could see every emotion flash through them—surprise, hesitation, something a lot like longing—before they settled back into the stoic mask he always wore. Quiet. Unimpressed. Broody. And yet…

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, shaky with relief, and you motioned toward your door. “Well, come on then. I’ve got a six-pack that’s been waiting for some company.”

His presence filled the small apartment in a way that made your breath catch, the air somehow heavier, more electric. How many times had your silly, stubborn heart conjured up this exact scenario? Late at night, Bucky standing just inside your door, peeling off his worn leather jacket and tugging off the gloves that shielded both metal and flesh. Then, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he’d settle into a corner of your couch, legs spread, shoulders sinking back into the soft fabric like he belonged there.

“There's Heineken, Bud, and Corona,” you said, your voice only slightly betraying your nerves as you toed off your shoes and dropped your keys and purse by the door. “I think I might even have some whiskey stashed away somewhere. What’s your poison?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trailing lazily around the room before settling back on you. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded, biting back the grin threatening to stretch across your face. “Sure thing,” you said casually, though you were certain the flush creeping up your neck gave you away.

You turned toward the kitchen, your heart doing an embarrassing little leap as you busied yourself rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. The clink of bottles felt absurdly loud in the quiet apartment, every moment stretching with the weight of his presence just beyond your line of sight.

“Nice place,” he called from the living room, his tone casual but laced with something warmer.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing two beers and popping the caps off with practiced ease. “I’d say make yourself at home, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

When you re-entered the room, there he was—exactly as you’d imagined so many times before. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his gloves neatly set beside it, and Bucky himself sprawled out comfortably. His metal hand rested casually on his knee, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” you said, forcing a steady smile as you handed him the green bottle.

“To your first visit,” you began, raising your own bottle in a toast. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered, taking in the sight of his broad frame on your couch, the casual way he sat, the sheer presence of him filling the space. Warmth pooled low in your belly, and before you could stop yourself, you added, “May it be the first of many.”

His smirk deepened at that, a flicker of amusement flashing across his features. He raised his bottle silently, going for a sip—but you stopped him, your hand darting out to rest on his.

“Wait!” you blurted, your palm lightly pressing against his larger one.

His frown was slight, his gaze shifting between your hands before settling on your face. “Why?”

“You have to look at me when we cheers,” you explained, your voice a little breathless, a little unsure of what you were doing but too far in to back out now.

His brow arched. “And why’s that?”

“Bad luck if you don’t. Years of it.” You shrugged, suddenly feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but refusing to back down. “I mean, I can’t even count how many years... Probably best not to risk it.”

For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he chuckled, a soft sound that sent a flutter straight to your chest. “God knows I’ve had enough of that already, haven’t I?”

You giggled, your laughter bubbling out, light and carefree. The fact that he played along felt like a victory, a small but monumental crack in his stoic armor.

With a glint of something softer in his eyes, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze locking with yours. “Alright, doll,” he said, his voice quieter now, warmer. “Let’s do it properly.”

Eyes steady on yours, he clinked his bottle against yours, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet room. And then, he didn’t look away—not for a second—as he took a slow sip.

You followed suit, the contact between your eyes and his making your heart race so fast you thought it might burst. The heat in his gaze was steady, grounding, and yet it sent a thrilling, electric charge through you that made your knees nearly buckle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, the faintest curve to his lips as he lowered his bottle.

“Much,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice steady, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

The air between you seemed to shift then, heavier but no less comforting—a new tension that simmered beneath the surface. If Bucky noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, the way your breath hitched every time his hand grazed your knee as he reached for another beer, he never said a thing.

He was the perfect gentleman, as always. Even when you slid closer on the couch, settling beside him on the plush cushions - even though there were a whole three other seats available to you. Even when you turned toward him, resting your head on your palm, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his face while you rambled about the mission reports piling up on your desk. He didn’t even glance at your neckline when you leaned over him to grab the remote, though you couldn’t help but steal a quiet inhale of his scent—clean, warm, unmistakably him.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I’m torturing you by making you listen to all this. Do you feel like watching something?” Your tone was cheery, light, but your heart raced at the thought of sharing something as simple and intimate as watching a film together.

With your eyes fixed on the TV, you missed the brief hesitation in his expression—the flicker of doubt that crossed his face and quickly vanished. Yet, neither the guilt, the fear, nor the pain that lingered in his soul seemed strong enough to stop him from embracing what you offered so openly: a chance to simply be. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky seemed just a little less burdened by the shadows of his past, a ghost of his old self and a lot of his new one urging him to give in.

“What’s on Netflix?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

Your head whipped around so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “How do you know what Netflix is?”

His lips quirked into a rare, genuinely amused smile, the kind that made your stomach flip. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, doll.”

“You’re 106,” you shot back, arching a brow.

“And yet, I still know what streaming is,” he countered, the smile growing. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“Well, I am impressed, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, settling back into the cushions. “What else do you know about modern technology? Please tell me you’ve at least heard of TikTok.”

His expression shifted into something closer to a scowl, but the playful glint in his eye betrayed him. “I know about TikTok,” he said, sounding almost offended. “And dating apps. God, the horrors,” he added, shaking his head dramatically as he glanced at his phone like it was some sort of ancient relic.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. But beneath the humor, your stomach twisted with an unexpected knot. Dating apps?

“What about dating apps?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in your voice was hard to hide.

Bucky groaned, slouching deeper into the couch as though the thought of them physically pained him. “I don’t know, doll. They just seem... unnatural. All these profiles and swiping left or right, like you’re picking a product instead of a person. Not my thing.” His voice held a certain distaste, and the casual way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from experience—or just his own strong sense of principle.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the questions bubbling up inside you. Had he ever used them? Was he speaking from personal experience, or just from watching the chaos unfold around him? Your thoughts shifted uncomfortably, and you tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“I get it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s... kind of weird, honestly. It’s like shopping for a date, but with less... quality control.” You shot him a teasing grin, but the tightness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was soothing, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. I mean, if I’m gonna meet someone, I’d rather it be... I don’t know, real? Not behind a screen.”

For some reason, his comment made your heart stumble, a traitorous beat skipping out of rhythm. You quickly dropped your gaze to your beer, hoping the reaction wasn’t written all over your face. Was he hinting that he preferred real, in-person connections? That he’d rather... meet someone like that?

You cleared your throat, feigning casual interest to mask the swarm of uncertainty rising inside. “So, how would you go about it? Finding a date, I mean. Is Sam your wingman?”

Bucky nearly choked on his beer, shaking his head vehemently. “God, no! Can you imagine? He’s too busy being Captain America to care about my love life... except when he’s accusing me of flirting with his sister.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and your chest tightened with something sharp and unwelcome. Jealousy. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to chase it away. “I didn’t know you liked Sarah,” you said, and to your horror, the disappointment in your voice was impossible to hide.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. “She’s great,” he said with a thoughtful nod. Then his lips curved knowingly. “But not like that.”

The heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, and Bucky’s sly grin told you he’d noticed. Your relief collided with your curiosity, the two tangling into a dangerous need to know more. “Oh,” you started hesitantly. “So... if not her, then who?”

He took another sip of his beer, the pause deliberate. “Had one date with the waitress from that Asian place we always order from. It… didn’t go well.”

Your brows furrowed. “And you haven’t tried again since then?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, the movement deceptively casual. “You know how it is these days—apps, algorithms, everyone judging you by a couple of photos and a bio. And who’s lining up to date a former assassin, huh? People know too much, too soon. Real connections don’t happen that way.”

The self-deprecating edge in his voice made your heart ache. You tilted your head, studying the way his vibranium fingers tapped lightly against the beer bottle. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the nervous thrum beneath your skin, “you’re looking in the wrong places.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and searching. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost daring. “And where do you think I should look?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, his attention. “Maybe a little closer to home,” you murmured, eyes resolutely fixed on the beer bottle in your own hands.

The silence that followed was electric, charged with unspoken possibilities that hung in the air like static. His gaze lingered on you, steady and intense, and you could feel it even without looking up. It made your pulse race in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you were just caught up in the moment—or if there was something more lingering in his words, in the way he was looking at you now.

You wanted to ask. The question burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But a part of you hesitated, afraid of the answer. What if this was nothing more than friendly banter? What if pushing further shattered the comfortable connection you’d built?

“Closer to home, huh?” Bucky’s voice was a low rumble, breaking the silence but not the tension. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a moment, it felt like he was closing the space between you. “And what does that mean, exactly? You got someone in mind for me, doll?”

There it was—that nickname. The one you pretended to hate but secretly adored. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch, betraying the smile you tried to suppress. His voice was so close it warmed you from head to toe. “I’m just saying,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral, “maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you.”

His lips quirked, his expression softening as if he’d caught onto something unsaid. “You think so?” Bucky asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You dared to turn your head and glance at him, and the way his blue eyes locked onto yours stole whatever breath you had left. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know so.”

The moment stretched between you, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. You swore he was leaning closer, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. And suddenly, the question burning in your chest felt inevitable.

“Bucky…” you began, voice trembling slightly, unsure of what you were about to say—or what he might say back.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, a thread of warmth in the charged air between you.

You hesitated, but the weight of your emotions was too much to carry any longer. “Is this a date?” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then he shook his head slowly. “It’s not,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

Your chest tightened, and the disappointment hit hard, like a blow you hadn’t braced for. You tried to mask it, but your face betrayed you, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the rejection. The ache in your heart grew with every second of silence that followed, the room feeling colder with each passing beat.

What you missed was the storm raging behind his steel-blue eyes—the internal battle he fought against his demons, the ones that screamed he wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for anyone. He’d carried those ghosts for too long to ignore them now. But he wasn’t blind.

He’d noticed the way your smile softened when it was meant for him, brighter and warmer than it ever was for anyone else. He’d seen how you fretted over him after missions, your hands fluttering with concern even at the smallest scratch on his skin. And he’d felt the hope radiating from you tonight when you’d invited him over, your words laced with a vulnerability you rarely showed.

Bucky knew. He’d known for a while. And that knowledge both terrified and thrilled him. Love, in any form, was fragile—he’d learned that the hard way. But tonight, sitting here with you, he realized he couldn’t keep running from the possibility of it.

He wanted you. Your laughter, your kindness, your stubbornness, your touch. He craved all of it. And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but for once in his long life, he wanted to try.

Bucky set his beer down, his movements deliberate, and leaned closer. His flesh hand brushed against the back of your arm and the touch sent a shiver up your arm. 

“It’s not a date,” he repeated, voice low but filled with a quiet resolve that made your breath catch, hurt twisting at your heart.

Your brow furrowed, the downturn of your lips impossible to hide. “Heard you the first time…”

“This isn’t a date,” he pressed on. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he added, “But it could be.”

Your heart skipped, his words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “Bucky…”

Cutting through your hesitation, his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, steady. “If you want this… if you want me, I’m yours. I want to try.”

The vulnerability in his voice left you breathless, stealing any coherent thought you might have had. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in your chest, warm and radiant. You didn’t hesitate this time, your lips curving into a soft, trembling smile.

“Is this because you’re afraid of the apps?” you teased, the quip breaking the intensity just enough for you to breathe. But your voice wavered slightly, and your eyes glistened with the tears threatening to spill. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

Bucky chuckled, low and genuine, the sound sending warmth curling in your chest. “I’m not a damsel in distress, doll,” he said, his tone playful as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into it instinctively.

“And you’re also not the big bad wolf you think you are,” you countered softly, your voice tinged with both affection and defiance.

“Well, technically…” His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I am the White Wolf.”

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking into something lighter, something safe. “He jokes,” you said, shaking your head. “He could be kissing instead…”

His grin softened, and for a beat, he just looked at you, his hand still lingering near your face. Then, as if your words had given him permission, he leaned in, closing the space between you in a way that felt both inevitable and extraordinary.

“Guess I’ll take your advice for once, doll,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips.

The moment his lips touched yours, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than an assumption, as though he wanted to be sure this was what you truly wanted. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, while his vibranium hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding him in the moment.

You sighed into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The movement drew him closer, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with a soft groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours in a way that spoke of patience and restrained hunger, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

His vibranium hand finally moved, finding your waist with surprising tenderness. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his other hand through the fabric of your shirt, but it pulled you to the reality of him—both the man he was and the one he’d fought so hard to become.

When you parted briefly for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and brimming with emotions he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

But you weren’t done. You weren’t ready to let the moment slip away. Sliding your hand from his neck to his jaw, you tilted his face back toward yours, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his mouth moved against yours with more certainty, more passion.

The kiss deepened, growing warmer, more insistent. Your bodies angled closer together, his presence consuming your senses. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and the faint rasp of his stubble as it brushed against your skin only made the experience more intoxicating.

You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment you were pressed against the back of your couch, his hands and lips demanding your full attention, and the next, you were straddling his thighs. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your harsh breaths mingled, the taste of his tongue intoxicating and impossible to resist.

For all his claims of being a man out of his time, Bucky Barnes knew exactly how to touch a woman. His hands were a perfect dichotomy: one warm and strong, the other cool and unyielding, but both equally firm and commanding. His touch left no room for doubt or hesitation, responding to every unspoken plea you hadn’t yet found the words for.

And his kiss? God, his kiss. You could write sonnets about the way his lips moved against yours, the way his tongue teased and claimed you, coaxing a need from you that you hadn’t known you were capable of. None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of him, his body pressed against yours, solid and capable. The things it could do—what it was doing, what it promised to do—set your whole body alight with yearning.

You kissed him harder, deeper, needier, your hips moving instinctively against his. His groan rumbled low in his chest, a sound that only made you crave him more. But just as your movements grew more desperate, his vibranium hand clamped firmly on your hips, halting your rhythm. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gentle but insistent, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Doll…” His voice was rough, laced with a warning that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, still dazed, heat crawling under your skin as you realized what you’d done. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as his steel-blue eyes bore into yours. The hunger there mirrored your own, and the restraint in his grip only made you want him more.

Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, your own need warring with the desire to break the tension. “Seems like I really am trying to steal your virtue, huh?” you joked, your voice light but shaky as you turned your head to press a soft kiss to his palm.

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the hunger. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your jaw to trail gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Your free hand wrapped around his vibranium one, your thumb tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with promise as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching as his hands anchored you, holding you steady but never pushing. His restraint was palpable, and you knew without a doubt—if you wanted more, he would give it to you willingly. But only if you asked.

You wouldn’t, though. Not tonight.

Instead, you leaned in, brushing soft, sweet kisses against his lips, your movements unhurried and tender. Each kiss felt like a promise, an unspoken assurance that there was no rush, no need for anything more than this moment. It took superhuman strength—the kind he had—not to let it escalate.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and your cheeks warm. His eyes searched yours, and the way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world—made your heart swell. His thumb grazed your cheek, his smile soft and genuine.

“How about that movie?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

You laughed, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension and filling the cozy space around you. “Alright, fine. Let’s find something to watch, then. Any preferences?”

“Anything but those baking shows Sam keeps trying to get me into,” he muttered, his lips quirking in faint exasperation.

A giggle bubbled out of you at the mental image of Sam dragging Bucky into a world of frosting, sprinkles, and delicate pastries. The idea was so absurd yet so perfectly Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble. “Deal. No baking shows.”

As the two of you settled back onto the couch, scrolling through movie options, the tension between you shifted again—this time, it was softer, lighter, wrapped in a warmth that felt safe and steady.

Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absently brushing against your shoulder as you leaned into him, your body naturally seeking his. And for the first time in a long time, you noticed something different about him. The shadows that usually haunted his expression seemed to have lifted, replaced by something quieter, something calmer.

Here, with you, Bucky wasn’t the broken soldier or the ex-assassin haunted by his past. He was just… himself. And in that moment, you realized that’s all you’d ever wanted him to be.

[salemlunaa]

✵˚∘ NEW YEAR = STARTING AFRESH ✵ ˚∘

let’s freshen up and get clean as we go into 2025 ᥫ᭡

✵∘˚ VERSE I | A FEW REMINDERS

you’re not a loser because you “didn’t manifest anything” in 2024

leave that alone now and don’t dwell too much on it, you can always flip your thoughts instantly

time isn’t running out for you, you are everything, you have everything here and now.

circumstances and time do not exist so stop all that wallowing in sadness

you’re okay and you have all that you want, all that is needed is to stand firm

∘˚✵ VERSE II | THINGS WE ARE LEAVING IN 2024

1. PROCRASTINATION

tell yourself no “i’m not gonna script that one last thing because my subconscious mind already knows what i want down to the minute details” you’re going to get off your ass AND APPLY and DO IT, stop yourself before you start:

no more doom scrolling, no more “i’ll do it later”,

stop yourself before you spend another hour on socials when you could be living your dream

2. “BUTS”

you guys are seriously tiring us bloggers with the “i know we have to stand firm but-” but what? you either have it or you don’t

“i have been standing firm but i’ve been doing that for 3 months now how long is it gonna take” no you haven’t, you’ve been WAVERING for 3 months, they aren’t the same don’t get it twisted. If you have been standing firm you would have it all.

again, you either have it or you don’t, and not for the sake of affirmation, i mean really.

3.TRYING

you don’t try, you DO, you ARE, you BE. simple

“i’ve been trying to induce pure consciousness for 2-” there is no trying, not for the operant power, and i’m not just trying to be motivational, once you find out about the law there is no such thing as an “attempt”, you just DO.

4. (giving weight to) CIRCUMSTANCES

the 3d isn’t real. who’s to say you always fall asleep when inducing the “I AM” state? who’s to say your life sucks? no seriously where is the evidence of that? in the 3d? do i need to smack some sense into you guys?

you’re the one reaffirming your problems to the subconscious mind. because the subconscious mind cannot see or hear the 3d.

you are going to stand firm no matter what happens, no matter what the 3d shows you

5. OVERCONSUMPTION

stop scrolling for it to click, no “clicking” is needed for a god, you KNOW everything you are everything, you do everything correctly. EVERYTHING

so know that you don’t need to watch that video, know that you could literally have everything now if you would just get off your devices, push that fear away and apply

✵˚∘ VERSE III | WE’RE DOING IT THIS TIME

no more procrastination, no more fear of failure. WE ARE ALL GONNA LOCK THE FUCK IN this year.

physically or mentally note down everything you want and know you have it now

circumstances can do whatever, you don’t care, you shouldn’t, because you have your dream life

whether it be affirmations, visuals, sublimals, or simply deciding

scream, let it all out, as well as being a god you are human, but let it be known that it doesn’t change the fact that you have everything you want

close your eyes, breathe and cleanse yourself of all the toxins: bad habits, bad mindset and bad energy

clean slate now, you’ve got this, go get your dream life

you’re a beautiful god/goddess with everything you want because that’s just how it is for you, you always get everything you want.

🪽🧺🩰 as they say: new year, new you. let’s do this!!

happy new guys, how’s 2025 going so far?? (also can’t believe my birthday is in 3 days 😟, like damn haven’t even had time to settle into the new years, early jan babies know 😭)

[loveluvrs]

the slip up l lando norris x reader

request/summary – lando and reader are in a secret established relationship, until lando accidentally slips up on stream

author's notes – first piece of writing, feedback appreciated!!! this is just my thoughts written down honestly, i didn’t have much idea where i was going with it so enjoy.

Max was streaming with Lando at his place. Lando drags his feet over to the stream room, sitting on a chair next to Max. He was scrolling on his phone, trying to pass the time. 

“Mate, I’m gonna leave, you’re being so boring,” Lando joked under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll make things more interesting then. Chat, wanna know something really interesting about Lando?” Max asked with a mischievous smile as he looked back at Lando. Lando watched with suspicion of what max could say next. 

“Lando’s got a secret girlfriend,” Max sings to annoy Lando. Lando’s eyes shot up, his heart pounding as he turned off his phone, the same phone he was using to text you, his girlfriend. “I don’t, chat, don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to piss me off,” Lando says as he shoots Max a glare. 

—————

A few months later, everyone has chalked up that interaction to Max simply trying to annoy and rile up Lando, and no one thought much of it. On a miracle of a night in spring, Lando was in Monaco and decided to stream. He had a hoodie on, his hair all messy, but a smile on his face. About an hour into the stream, I knock on the door of his stream room quietly. Lando immediately turned off his video and mic, telling chat to give him a minute. 

I walk in, a black slip dress on with a cropped white cardigan, my hair and makeup done all fancy. “Hi, baby,” Lando says as he pulls me in by the waist, onto his lap. “Girls night tonight, right?” He says with a soft smile. He always makes sure to pay attention to anything I’ve mentioned to him, including my plans to hang out with Lily and Carmen tonight, Alex and George’s girlfriends. 

I hum in response. “Yeah, we’re gonna get dinner and then take some Instagram photos,” I say as I stand up from his lap, “you like the dress? It’s new.” I give him a little twirl to show off the dress. 

Lando smiles brightly. “I love it, baby, you look gorgeous. Like always,” he says as he leans in for a kiss. “Text me when you’re done and need me to pick you up, yeah?” I nod and smile. 

Once I leave, Lando puts his headset back on, turning his mic and camera back on. He scrunches up his face as he’s met by shouting from Max into his headset. “What’s your problem, man?” Lando asks with confusion. Max sighs. “Lando, you had your mic on the whole time. People heard that whole conversation and I was trying to tell you but as always, you ignored me,” Max says with some frustration in his voice, but mostly amusement. 

“Oh,” Lando says as he realizes what has happened. Not knowing what to do, Lando panics and ends stream. 

When my friends and I reach the restaurant, we find it pouring rain, which was the most of our worries since the restaurant was outdoor. With frowns, we all pile back into the car and drive ourselves home. I arrive home only twenty minutes after I left, my dress soaked. My brows furrow in confusion to see Lando on the couch on his phone when i come back, and not on stream. 

I slip off my shoes. “I thought you were streaming?” I ask softly as I make my way over to him. “What happened to you? You’re all soaked! Here, let me get you a towel and you can get dressed into some of my hoodie and sweats to get comfy,” Lando says, trying to avoid the fact that he had just live streamed his whole conversation with his girlfriend. 

I saw the panic in Lando’s eyes. “Stop,” I say as I stood in front of him, “what did you do?” Lando shoots me a bright grin. “I love you, babe. So so much. And you know I’d do anything for you.” This made me even more suspicious. “Lan,” I say as my eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay. I might have forgotten to mute my mic when we were talking right before you left. I swear I thought I had turned it off!” He says as he panics before beginning to ramble. “And I called you baby, and gorgeous, and your voice was heard too. And Max was telling me the whole time through my headset, but it was off and even if it were on, you know I don’t think about anything else when I’m with you. And there were thousands of people on the stream and you specifically told me you wanted to keep it private because you didn’t want to get hate crimed by the fans and you wouldn’t be able to handle it and I mean, I wanted to but it just slipped and im so so sorry but-“ He stops in confusion when a giggle escapes my lips. “Why aren’t you upset?” He asks slowly.

I smile as I slip my arms around his neck, his hands instinctively wrapping around my waist. “Well. Number one, you’re cute when you panic. Number two, no one saw me, so it’s okay. I mean, considering how in love you are with me, they were bound to find out at some point that you had a girlfriend,” I tease with a smile tugging at my lips. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully at me. “Okay, yeah. I am absolutely in love with you. Still, you’re not bothered by this?” he asks slowly, hesitation lacing his voice.

“I promise I’m not. It was a mistake. Plus, that just means it’s gonna be all the more fun trying to watch them figure out who it is you’re dating,” I say playfully with a giggle. 

“That’s true,” Lando says softly with a hum, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Although, don’t make me have to have you on adult supervision every time you stream now to make sure nothing else slips out of your mouth,” I tease as I playfully poke his side. 

“Ah! Okay okay, promise,” he says with a giggle as he leans in for a gentle and loving kiss.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George. 

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.” 

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.” 

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that. 

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf  inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged. 

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop. 

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself. 

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk. 

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day. 

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations. 

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?” 

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates. 

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk. 

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression. 

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety. 

Your book is here. 

It’s Y/N, by the way. 

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable. 

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do. 

That day, you don’t get a message back. 

You get a call instead. 

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too. 

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher. 

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call. 

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.” 

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.” 

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” 

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?” 

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.” 

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with. 

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?” 

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript. 

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on. 

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house. 

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky. 

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him. 

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding. 

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would. 

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore. 

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee. 

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!” 

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same. 

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you. 

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it. 

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you. 

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away. 

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you. 

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.” 

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section. 

“What just happened?” 

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help. 

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?” 

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

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AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

[bandgie]

Good Pup

human!minho x puppy!reader x puppy!seungmin

synopsis: Minho is certain that no matter how much you disagree, your new weredog friend, Kim Seungmin, is not someone he can get along with. However, they have no choice but to team up when your first heat makes its way into the night. Maybe you were right, they do get along, even if it's just a little bit.

7.3k words (damn)

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 3some, PIV, no protection, knotting, biting (slight blood), jealousy, bff!minho, coworker!seungmin, double penetration, heat, sex pill, pussy eating, humping (brief), super light mxm themes, minho and seungmin don't like each other

In this world, Minho thinks there are two types of people. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with what kind of job you work or what your passion is. It doesn’t even matter if you’re a hybrid; the ones mixed with all sorts of animals with human DNA. No, none of those matter to him. People, fully human or not, all boil down to one thing.

Cats or dogs. 

See, Minho likes to think of himself as a cat person. Someone who prefers to have leisure in their own time. Someone who doesn’t need constant stimulation from people or conversations. He’s content with being alone, satisfied even. Maybe Minho doesn’t have a furry tail or pointed ears that flick at the slightest sound unlike the werecats he sees daily, but his human identity doesn't stop him from thinking of himself - or anyone for that fact - as either cat or dog.

Despite living a rather secluded life, Minho doesn’t mind the few friends he keeps close, both human and feline. He does, however, mind dogs like any cat would. They’re too noisy, too needy, and too happy for no god-damn reason. Being surrounded by so much energy drains him quickly, and although Minho likes to think of himself as a lover of all animals, dogs are just… difficult. So you being one of his closest friends is such a mystery to him.

It doesn't matter how many times you’ve seen Minho. Your tail always swishes when you see him approaching, even now through the crowd of people. It wacks the nearby pedestrians walking and you embarrassingly apologize, grabbing your shaggy tail to try and prevent it from moving. And no matter how many times Minho sees you get so giddy just by looking at him, he smiles. 

Just a little bit. 

“You’re gonna kill someone with that thing,” he says once he’s close enough. You roll your eyes at him, the complete opposite of the thumping of your tail in your grasp. “Oh shut up. You made me wait in this heat. I should kill you for that.”

“In front of all these witnesses? You’d make a terrible hitman.” Minho can tell you’re irritated even with your happy tail. Your floppy ears are down, sweat beads on your forehead, and trickles down the sides of your face. The nails on your fingers are darker and sharper than usual. He recalls you complaining about the heat, but the forecast showed cloudy skies. Minho would hardly call it a hot day, not even a warm one.

Something’s up.

But like any cat person, he doesn’t say anything about his observations. “I say we get out of the sun and into the convenience store before you start plotting my murder. I’ll pay.” It’s his way of trying to make you feel better with whatever you’re stressed about. It seems to work by your nodding. Your tail is relaxed enough for you to set it down, using the back of your hand to wipe the perspiration that drips down to your neck. “That sounds good. And you don’t have to worry about tonight. The company’s paying for the dinner and drinks.” That familiar wolfish smile finds your lips, pulling back enough to show pointy canines. 

Minho is always captivated by your mouth. The way it can twist so inhumanely from the plumpness of your lips to the sharpness of your teeth. His eyes lower just for a split second before he says, “Even for me? A plus one?”

“I’ll make sure,” you say with certainty. “They’ve been working me like a dog, no pun intended, and this is their way of making up to everyone busting their ass to make deadlines. If I don’t get my Scooby-snack, I will actually kill someone.”

That sputters a laugh from him. Minho takes his place beside you to begin your journey to the market while giggles keep spilling. “If you’re Scooby, does that make me Shaggy?” There’s still a smile on his face even when you shake your head, following his steps. “Nah. You’re more like Scrappy-Doo.”

-

Okay, there is something definitely wrong with you. Minho is well aware that weredogs enjoy being in close proximity. There have been multiple occasions of your tail tickling his arm, of your skin brushing against his while you walk. Hell, he’s even indulged in kinship by patting your head and letting his fingers caress your ears. It usually doesn’t take much for you to be satisfied with those simple touches, but today you seem…needy.

And it’s not just Minho who notices. Customers, humans and were-creatures alike, see how much you cling to him. The tail that was happily dancing half an hour ago now wraps around his torso. He can feel it against his back and he finds himself enjoying this strange hug. 

Minho would usually say something. Maybe tease you and tell you to keep your tail to yourself, but something tells him that isn't the best idea right now. 

You’re hardly talking. The yapping puppy he’s so familiar with is nowhere to be seen even though you're right next to him. Standing so close that he can feel your body heat that he swears is hotter than usual. 

Maybe he should enjoy the peace and quiet that he rarely gets with you, but Minho is itching for his pup. 

“You okay?”

There, he said it. Minho is so used to you talking without being asked to the point that he covers his ears just to drown out your words. You would whine, ears pulling down while tugging at his arms. “Listen to meee!”

But instead he has to coax it out of you this time. You pull your attention away from the snacks to look at him. “Huh? Yeah no, I’m good. I have been feeling out of it recently but I think it’s just my job. Sorry, am I being boring?”

Reassurance. One of the most common needs for a weredog. To hear that they’re needed with some praise. To put it in simple terms, you want to hear that you’re being a good girl. At this point, Minho is willing to do and say anything to get you back to normal.

“Boring? I never said that. Hanging out with you is the highlight of my week…even if your furry friend keeps smacking my back.” And just like that, your eyes shine with both happiness and embarrassment. You take back control of your tail and scold it, “Stop annoying my friend.” You swat at it gently and push it back down behind you. 

Minho doesn’t even notice his hand reaching out to pet you before he can stop it. His soft palm makes contact with your hair, ruffling it before moving to your ears.

People nearby stare but Minho hardly cares. There’s something about bystanders knowing the reason for your soft rumbling and gleeful expression is because of him. Weird want, but Minho’s heard that weredogs just have that type of effect on people. Plus, Minho’s your friend. Friends are always there to help each other out and Minho just happens to be your best.

It doesn’t take much after that to get you back to your talkative self. 

“Like, I just feel bad, ya know?” You say, reaching for a meaty sandwich in the deli section of the convenience store. “No one talks to him at work and he’s always alone at lunch. Like, yeah he has a scary face and doesn’t talk to anyone, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.” A triple meat sandwich catches your attention and Minho watches your curved nails reach for the packaging. 

Minho inspects the drinks. “Maybe he has that scary face and doesn’t talk to anybody because he doesn’t want to talk to anybody.”

You roll your eyes, adding your find to the small basket looped around Minho’s arm. “Yeah, and I could say the same thing about you.” You poke his broad chest with a nail. The pain is hardly there, but Minho fakes a wounded expression and grabs his pec dramatically. “I'm bleeding!”

“Oh shut up. You’re just trying to change the subject because you know I’m right.”

“Right about what?” Minho ditches his act. “About the fact that I don’t like talking to anybody? Good job, Sherlock.” The good job makes your tail sway just slightly and Minho smiles when he sees it. 

“Oh? Then what are you doing right now with me?” You cross your arms and stare at him.

“Replying.”

“Which is…”

“Communicating.”

“And another word for that is…”

“...Moving my mouth.”

“You’re impossible.” you laugh. “Anywho, he just reminds me of how it was when we first met. You being brooding, quiet and me being awesome, of course.” The two of you venture further down the aisle. “What is it that you once told me? Something about people being dogs and cats?”

“Dogs or cats,” he corrects. “What about it?” Minho abruptly stops his steps when he sees jelly. Despite being human, you can practically see his pupils grow wide at the sight of them. 

“So based on the description I gave you, which do you think he is?”

Minho doesn’t answer immediately, can’t when his favorite dessert is quite literally on display. So many choices, so many flavors. He should buy one of each for taste testing. A couple of seconds go by before he registers your question. “Oh. Um, you said he’s like me?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Then cat, obviously.” Minho chooses a coffee and vanilla flavor. He imagines you’ll prefer the coffee one. When he turns to face you, he’s surprised to see that you’re smiling, as if already knowing he was going to say that. 

“But get this,” you hop on one leg to the other in weredog behavior. “He’s a were-dog! Like me! I don’t know what breed but I’ve never met a fellow pup so…cat. You might like him.”

Minho scoffs at your playful wink, “Don’t try setting me up on playdates. I’m fine with the friends I have now.”

You whine, a high-pitched noise coming from the back of your throat. It used to startle Minho, but now he’s grown accustomed to ignoring your complaints until you’re both at the counter emptying the basket. 

The cashier is a young werefox. He has slender eyes that stick out, enhancing his hard jaw and smooth skin. As if tired of the day, the said fox scans the items lazily, saying a standard, "Is that gonna be all?” before shoving the goodies in a black bag. 

“Well, whatever,” you smooth your puppy ears. “He’s gonna be at the dinner tonight, so you’re meeting him regardless.”

For some reason, the fox suddenly looks interested. He picks his head up and looks between Minho and you. He sniffs and jolts. Minho narrows his eyes, subtly tucking his head to his armpit and smelling. Does he stink? Minho’s thinking about changing his body wash when the cashier sniffs again, but his eyes lock on you instead.

In all werefox manner, the cashier shifts his gaze to Minho and gives a sly smile. “These are on the house.” He snatches a package so quickly off the counter that Minho can’t tell what it is as the cashier shoves it inside the bag. The fox slides the purchases to Minho, looking at you once more before winking, “Have fun tonight.”

Minho is quick to get you both out of there. Your ears are up straight, tail hanging loose between your legs while looking back. Since your tail isn’t tucked between your legs or abnormally stiff, Minho thinks he shouldn’t be too worried. But the encounter was strange, no matter how brief. 

“Did you know that guy?” You say once you’re waiting for Minho to unlock his car. 

He shakes his head, “Nah. Let’s just go.”

You don’t argue with that. Your ears flick at the sound of the door unlocking and you quickly find your seat inside the warm car. The image of the cashier crosses your mind and you look at Minho. “What’d he put in the bag?”

But Minho had already tossed the said bag in the backseat. He shrugs, “Don’t know. I’ll check it out when I get home.”

Short sentences, indirect messages to tell you to drop it. Minho is in his cat mood as he ignites the car to life and puts it in reserve. Normally, you’d crack a joke. Saying something to lighten the mood or change the subject, but you’re starting to feel hot all over again. Minho had just put the A/C on, but the warmth of the car has you heating up even more. You feel nauseous and Minho’s human scent plays no aid. Sometimes you get car sick and you’re assuming it’s one of those times. You close your eyes and breathe, telling yourself that you’ll feel better once you get home and take some medication.

It doesn’t matter how sick you are, you have a company dinner tonight that your best friend is attending and you’ll be damned if you missed just because of a little bug.

-

Minho is absolutely not taking his eyes off you tonight and no it’s not because of how good you look. Sure, maybe your button-up shirt stretches at the top because of how tight it is against your chest and yeah, maybe the black pencil skirt does wonders for your ass but those are not any of the reasons why Minho is watching you like a hawk. No, he’s stuck watching how you’re trying your best to pretend like you aren’t on the verge of turning into a puddle of sweat.

Even the other were-dog you mentioned earlier, Kim Seungmin, notices your strange behavior. Minho sees that his ears are up and that his tail swishes unsure. Still, none of that matters from how giddily you seem chatting it up with him. Something about managing to meet deadlines and confusion about the new code in the system, but it’s all white noise to Minho. 

You’re close to Seungmin - a little too close. Minho tells himself over and over that weredogs have an instinct to want to be close, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy with it. 

It looks like your tails are dancing together as they swish, though yours is more erratic. Seungmin’s eyes travel everywhere and Minho is so close to leaning over you just to push him away. 

“And the new code we have to use?” You groan. “I absolutely hate it.”

“You?” Seungmin challenges. “Hating something? I don’t believe it.”

Minho watches you scoff, watches the color of your face flush. It’s from your fever, he thinks. He hopes. 

Why on Earth would you think he would be able to get along with someone like Seungmin? He was far too quiet when you happily introduced Minho - you’re best friend may he remind you - and didn’t so much as ask what type of job he works. Seungmin may be a cat, but Minho is starting to think he’s beginning to prefer dogs.

The male weredog leans closer to you and Minho straightens. He can hear how deep he inhales before Seungmin turns his head to the side, one ear flopping over. “Are you wearing a new perfume? It smells nice.”

“Oh, thank you.” You turn to your side, finally looking at Minho and smiling at him. His heart squeezes at the sight, how your eyes shine just looking at him. “Minho got it for me a while ago, but I only wear it on special occasions.”

The smirk on Seungmin’s face vanishes once he makes eye contact with Minho. And just like that, the moody expression Minho once wore turns smug. There’s a brief moment between the two men that you don’t see. A dirty look, a sneer, a smirk. It’s such a short interaction that speaks volumes. 

Seungmin may be a dog on the outside, but that deadly look screams cat.

“God, why is it so hot in here?” You fan yourself with a hand, looking between your two friends. “I feel like I’m turning into a swamp.”

Minho glances at other people nearby. Your co-workers are drinking, eating, and talking about anything but how hot it is. Your fever must be getting out of hand and Minho is planning on asking you if you two should leave before Seungmin says, “When did your fever start?”

“Um,” you rub your hands together in an attempt to get yourself to stop feeling so antsy. Minho places a friendly hand on your knee. Nothing he’s never done before to soothe you, but you react as if he’s burned you. It feels like his hand sends shivers throughout your body and you can’t help but jolt. A soft whine leaves your lips, and poor Minho who can’t seem to notice that your distress is from his touch, decides to rub his thumb onto your skin.

What feels like buckets of arousal seep your underwear. You get the sudden urge to hump, a stupid weredog antic that you can never seem to get rid of. Your legs tense and you almost close them in an attempt to get some friction with Minho’s hand before you remember that Seungmin asked you a question. 

“M-maybe a week ago or something? I think I just ate something bad.” But when you look at Seungmin for his response, he isn’t even facing you. His focus is on your lower half, watching with a predatory look in his eyes as Minho gently strokes his thumb on your thigh. Maybe you should feel weird that your co-worker is looking at you in such a way, but it strangely adds to the sensation Minho’s providing. 

Seungmin inhales and groans, too quiet for the chatter of your company to notice but enough for you to accidentally snap your legs closed with Minho’s hand captive. 

Then finally, Seungmin looks up between you and Minho and nods to the front door. 

“Meet me outside.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he grabs his jacket and leaves. A few coworkers complain and question him, but he silences them with a mere glare and a respectful, apologetic bow to his boss.

You and Minho look amongst each other and he carefully slides his hand out from the crease of your thighs. The two of you miss the warmth from the touch, but Minho is a little more concerned with how you’ve started to paw and grasp at his hand to get it back on you.

There was such a sense of urgency in Seungmin’s voice. As much as Minho was irritated with how he was looking at you, there was genuine worry there. It would be easy for you two to ditch Seungmin and leave on your own, but something tells him there’s more than just a stomach bug going on. 

Minho takes his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers. He nearly hisses at how hot your skin is, but you only howl with satisfaction.

He stands, taking you with him, but your boss is quick to stop you from leaving. “Hey! Now where are you two going?” Shit, of course it wouldn’t be as easy to leave. 

“I think she’s had too much to drink, sir.” A lie. You haven’t touched a single drink, but no one here is sober enough to know that. “It would be better to have her sleep it off so she can make it to work tomorrow.”

Minho hopes his excuse is enough and from the belly laugh that your boss gives, he thinks it is. 

“I like the way you think! Make sure you take care of her. We’ve got a big project coming up and I need my best workers.”

A thank you, a quick bow, and Minho is quick to grab your things and lead you outside. To his luck, you play the drunk girl perfectly. Your full weight is on his shoulder that you’re leaning on, breathing into his neck and trying to nip his skin.Your tail is so out of control that you whack him and you as Minho walks to Seungmin. 

No, this isn’t a fever. 

And Seungmin is quick to confirm that the moment he sees how much you’re clinging onto Minho. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand. “Fuck. Your heat's getting bad. Why the fuck did you come in the condition?”

“I-I…no! Seung, I’m not. I can’t.” That seems to snap you out of your trance enough to answer him, but not enough to separate yourself from Minho. 

“Heat?” Minho looks at you questioningly. Didn’t you tell me the doctors said you that your animal DNA is too small for heat periods?” Which he believed without question. Minho has known you for years and you’ve never had a heat in that time. Not so much as a story to tell or any suppressors he’s seen.

You look like you’re about to cry even with the hazy look in your eye. “They did! It’s way too late for me to experience my first heat. I’m just sick.”

Seungmin scoffs. “Sick? I don’t think so. Listen, the point is, you need to leave. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you’re going to attract were-males with your pheromones.” He looks around protectively and then back at you, putting his hand down. “Okay, I don’t mean to come off weird, but do you think you can…handle it on your own?”

There’s a silence between the three of you. Minho blinks rapidly. Did he hear that right? Is Seungmin, this man he just met tonight, really asking to hook up with you? In front of him? Your best friend?

He must have a death wish. “What the fuck are you saying, man?”

Seungmin averts his gaze to the other male. “Was I talking to you?”

“Seungmin!” You scold.

“Nah, you don’t get it, human. She’s in heat. You’re not going to be able to properly calm her down, or worse, she’s gonna go into a frenzy because you can’t.”

This is exactly why Minho can’t stand weredogs. They’re too obsessed with something that’s not even theirs. “And you think just ‘cuz you’re a dog you can? You don’t know me and you don’t know her. Get your snout out of our business.” Minho pulls you closer. “We’re leaving, let’s go.”

He only manages to get a few steps away before Seungmin spins him around. Being so close to him, Minho realizes he’s taller, but not by much. The ears add the illusion of extra height. It’s the piercing gaze, however, that makes Minho feel small. “Tell me, Minho, have you ever been with a were-female?”

“That’s none of your business. Fuck off.”

“I’ll go ahead and give you the benefit of the doubt and say sure, maybe you have once or twice. But have you ever been with one during their heat? During their first heat? Do you know what a weredog even does in heat? What they need? For fuck's sake, your stupid nose can’t even tell the difference from last week to this week.”

Seungmin takes a step closer until his chest is almost touching Minho’s. So close that you can smell how your heat is affecting him. 

“I’m not doing this for a quick fuck and I’m sure as hell not doing it for you. Despite what your little human brain might think, I care. I care enough to make sure that she’ll go home safely and get properly taken care of. I’m not thinking of myself, unlike someone.”

It feels like a slap on the cheek. Minho’s jaw is so clenched that his teeth begin to ache. He wants to tell Seungmin that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he’s wrong - but shit, is he really? Minho isn’t well-versed in weredogs outside of friendships and the hookups he had were all feline or human. It hurts to admit, but he doesn’t know. Minho doesn’t even know what to do with you still clinging onto him and dipping your hands up his shirt to feel his skin.

Fuuuck this.

Minho lets out a deep sigh, almost as if it hurts him to say, “You're not getting in my car. Just follow behind.”

And follow Seungmin does. On the road driving far too fast the speed limit, on the sidewalk leading up to Minho’s house, to the front door that you wobble to, up the stairs that inevitably lead to Minho’s room that you barge into. 

The bed is the first thing you go to. Neither of the men have a chance to lay down any ground rules before you bury yourself between the sheets. Minho stares as you inhale his blanket, grabbing his pillow and biting down on it with your canines. It only takes a second before you roll onto your stomach and grind on it, effectively humping his favorite pillow.

No, he isn’t staring anymore, he’s gawking. Minho nearly flinches at the amount of drool his poor pillow has to endure. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Seungmin rasps out. The voice breaks Minho’s attention, and although he knows the weredog beside him is male, he still jumps at the sight. 

Seungmin is full of want. His ears are up straight, his tail swishes as if he’s watching a prey, his teeth are bared with a hint of saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, and if Minho looks down, he could see the outline of a bulging- 

“Mmm sorry,” you whine. “Smells so good. Min’ smells so good.” Your hips press up and down deeply, getting that nice friction on your clothed cunt. It looks cute, strangely, to see how desperate you are for a release. Minho would have liked to enjoy the scene longer if it wasn’t for Seungmin losing his patience. It takes a mere three strides for Seungmin’s long legs to reach you, his eyes pupils blown wide.

Within a second, Minho is beside him.

“Don’t get any-”

“Praise her,” Seungmin chokes out. “Pet her, touch her, fuck! Just do something. I’m going crazy.” He forces himself to back away from you, opting to pace around Minho’s room, trying to look for anything to distract himself from the rut he’s about to go in. Seungmin reaches for the bottom of his shirt and begins to hastily undress. He doesn’t even spare a glance at the human when he says, “Get her undressed. Weredogs need skin contact during their heat.”

Easier said than done. You’re clawing Minho’s skin affectionately and reaching for his belt. He feels like he’s wrestling you if he ignores his boner. He manages to unbutton your top, shaky hands reaching back to unclasp your bra but you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. Your legs wrap around his torso and bring him in, his cock to your cunt through the many layers of clothes.

“No, takes too long. Just put it in me. I’m so wet already.”

Your voice is a whisper in his ear. Minho realizes it’s because you don’t want Seungmin to hear. To sweeten the deal, you grind on his crotch. Minho’s knees are fully on the bed, giving you a much better angle to hump him instead. 

You let out the smallest whine. The tiniest sound of pleasure from something other than masturbating, but Seungmin hears it. He whips his head quickly and rushes to you two with a small package in his hand. 

Minho’s able to make it out when he gets closer. It’s from when you and him went to the convenience store earlier. When the fox cashier shot his sly smile and said, These are on the house. Have fun tonight. 

“I don’t even want to know where you got these pills,” Seungmin tosses the package to Minho. “Take it now. It should have an effect within 5 minutes.”

Knot Cock! The package reads. INSTRUCTIONS: take 5-10 minutes prior to intercourse with weredog. Do not mix with other genitalia-morphing pills. drowsiness and mild pain are- 

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin moans. “Your pussy smells so good.”

Minho rips the package open and discards the warnings. He can read it later. Right now, he’s focused on dry swallowing the pill, finally removing his clothes, and helping Seungmin take off your skirt. 

Strings of arousal stick to your underwear as the material goes down your legs. You whine at the cold air, but Seungmin is quick to reassure you. “Good. Good. You’re doing such a good job. I’m almost done, baby.”

A scowl appears on Minho’s expression when he glances at Seungmin. It’s hard to just look at his face when the two men are naked. It’s far too easy to notice the flush in Seungmin’s chest and cock. How different, yet similar, it looks to his own. 

They’re doing this together, why is he taking all the credit? He’s not even supposed to be here, he’s just helping. “I got you,” Minho emphasizes. He places his hand on your bare thighs and gently spreads them apart. 

In all its glory, your cunt shines with arousal. For a brief moment, the men stare. There’s no arguing with your pussy doing all the talking, wetness seeping through your folds as if it’s crying. It’s only seconds they take time drooling over you, but too many seconds too long. You impatiently reach your hand down and spread your lower lips, using your other hand to rub your fluttering hole.

“Please, pleaseplease-”

Seungmin moves first, much to Minho’s displeasure. A growl emits from his chest as Seungmin peels your hands away from your cunt. Saliva drips down his chin - down his neck. Minho thinks he might eat you, but Seungmin opts to devour your cunt.

The sound that leaves you is more of a howl than a moan. A noise of appreciation and pleasure at every swipe of his tongue. Seungmin’s throat vibrates with his grunts, it bobs with every gulp. You thread one hand into his hair and the other entwines with Minho’s fingers. Minho can’t tell if he’s squeezing your hand or if you're squeezing his, but it doesn’t matter. Not when a foreign haze begins to take hold of his senses, a pressure in his cock he’s never felt before. 

Minho tears his gaze from Seungmin eating you out to see his cock enlarged. He’s never seen it so big and red. He’s especially never had a ring at the base, a near-identical state of Seungmin’s. The shock almost distracts him from the urge he’s getting - the urge to push Seungmin aside, to have you close to him in every and any way possible. 

Crap, the pill is working a lot better than Minho would have guessed. 

To try and fight the effects, Minho leans down to get a taste of your cunt. The scent of you grows stronger, but Minho isn’t able to get his lick in when Seungmin pulls away to growl at him. Much to Minho’s horror, he growls back. The men bare their teeth, a clear sign of intimidation and Minho doesn’t back away from even with Seungmin’s sharp canines. 

You, however, notice the clash of pheromones. You hear the snarls loud enough to pick your head up and focus your dilated pupils. Roughly, you move your hands to grip the back of their heads and force them into your cunt. They bonk their foreheads slightly, a soft whine coming from Seungmin and a final snarl from Minho before they succumb to your taste. 

They can’t notice how their tongues mix and clash, or maybe they do, but sucking on your clit outweighs the fact. You can’t find yourself to care when their tongues move as if they’re fighting. One muscle pushes the other out of the way just for it to do it back. It’s almost cute if it was in any other situation, but you still smile and moan when one tongue flicks your clit.

Without needing to speak to each other, the men silently agree to move together to hear you again. Starting towards the bottom of your clit, Minho and Seungmin glide up. You tremble and squeal when the tips of their tongue continuously flick at your bud, but they graciously dip back down. Looking at how they suck your clit only amplifies the feeling of pleasure, but you can’t look away. It’s a hypnotic sight, watching their tongues lap up and down, watching the saliva spread to your thighs and pelvis from how much they lick. 

You could cum just like this, looking into their eyes with your cunt in their mouth, but you don’t want to finish like that. Your heat makes it so that it feels painful to be empty no matter how their tongues tease your entrance. The only thing you need to be satisfied is to be full. So full of cum that it leaks for weeks after. To be stuffed and properly bred into with any male. They may have fought in the beginning, but you’re beyond elated for your first heat to be with them.

It’s far too hard to use words, not when you're panting and moaning with every lick, but you manage to get out small, nonono’s that make Seungmin’s ears perk up. Minho takes the opportunity to fully be on your cunt, sucking and dragging his tongue while Seungmin paws up to you.

He doesn’t have to ask, his eyes say it all with the worry and arousal in them.

“Fuck me.” Gosh, you’ve never been so direct before. “No more licking just please. It hurts.” You place a hand on your stomach, emphasizing the emptiness. “Wanna be full.”

Minho swears when Seungmin rips his head from your cunt. He;’s forced off with Seungmin’s fingers in his hair. Minho might have snarled again, but he heard your begging. Heard how the two of them eating you out did little to help your heat. It was only a matter of time before either of them was inside you, but the real question is who. Maybe Minho would have been more open, thinking more logically, about letting Seungmin go first, but the drug in his system makes it so the most important thing is having you to himself. 

The look Minho gives Seungmin is deadly. “I’m going first.”

Seungmin doesn’t so much as acknowledge his words - can’t when he’s already stroking his cock and balancing himself on his knees. Minho hates how he succumbs to the drug, shoving Seungmin so hard that he nearly falls off the bed. “I said -” But Seungmin doesn’t let Minho finish, interrupting the older male with a just-as-hard push.

“Stop,” you all but whisper. They look at you and the expression on your face makes them obey, save for the teeth. “I…I want both. Can’t I have both?”

Is that even possible? Minho can only imagine how difficult it would be to take two cocks, let alone knots that will surely have your pussy expanding. It seems like Seungmin is thinking the same thing based on his confused expression, but his rut makes him just as clueless as Minho.

The men look at each other, eyes clear for the first time in a while. No words are needed to come to a silent agreement. Minho tucks himself between you and the bed, flipping you the other way until you’re chest-to-chest with your best friend. Seungmin stays on his knees on the bed, his cock pointed at your entrance. It takes a bit more adjusting before you’re nicely sandwiched between the two and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Their scent covers you perfectly with their skin on every inch of yours. 

You’ve never gotten the experience to nest, but you assume it feels something like this.

Minho’s erection sits between your thighs, hot and heavy. You should feel weird, gross even, having your closest friend getting ready to fuck you. That feeling never happens. Not even as you lift your hips for Minho to grab his cock and angle it towards your cunt.

“Tell me-” He moans when you slide your cunt against his tip. “T-tell me if it hurts.”

You would have laughed if you could. Feeling genuine pain seems impossible in your state, but you nod anyway. 

Minho doesn’t waste time rubbing his dick on your cunt. His cock is throbbing so painfully that the only relief is sinking into you.

Inch by inch, he enters. The tip flares more than it normally would, not that you would know, and the stretch has you whining into his chest. His scent calms you and you suck on his skin to further soothe yourself. Minho isn’t going as slow as he wants to. He’s trying to open you up gently, but your cunt is so warm, so soft, that he can’t help himself from fucking into you until his artificial knot prevents him from going deeper.

Veins bulge from Minho’s neck. He’s never had sex like this - he’s never had such an urge to claim, to breed. His cock is unbelievably sensitive and your pussy feels like heaven. He groans, hands going to your ass to squeeze the pulp flesh. 

It’s then that he feels a different set of hands that he’s reminded of the actual male were-dog. “I’m in. You can-”

Seungmin, who’s been patiently sitting, pushes into you without any further instruction. The intrusion makes you yip from surprise. Minho’s ears pick up on the sound and a sense of inhumane protection overcomes him. He thinks you’re in pain from the small howl, but you moan almost immediately after. Seungmin thrusts into you much quicker, much faster than Minho had initially. 

“Finally.” It sounds guttural from Seungmin’s throat. “Been waiting forever.”

Unlike Minho, who at least tries to savor the feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, Seungmin ruts into you. The force of his thrusts makes you rock against Minho’s length. You let out little squeals and whimpers with every move right into Minho’s ear. If he wanted, Minho could finish just like this. With Seungmin’s cock rubbing against his own and your pussy moving just enough for some friction.

But Minho doesn’t want to just cum.

He wants to carve himself in you. To make his mark in the deepest part of you. Minho places his feet flat on the bed to properly thrust. It only takes one time to have you biting down his chest, your sharp teeth digging painfully into his skin. 

“Fuck!” Minho’s flesh tastes of salt and desire. “Fuuuuck…”

Seungmin puts his hands on your lower back, causing you to arch at just the right angle for their tips to kiss your cervix. They buck up into you with different tempos, one going in while the other goes out. It’s an endless feeling of being filled. You swear you can feel them touching the back of your throat with how deep they are.

Distantly, you can feel the wetness of Seungmin’s drool dripping onto your ass. Pulling your teeth from Minho’s chest, you turn back to see just as you thought. Seungmin’s eyes are blown wide, tail stiff and pointed upwards with his flat tongue hanging out. He probably doesn’t even notice the mess he’s making on your back with his eyes locked where you three connect.

Minho groans at the welt from the wound you’ve left, but the pain is quickly forgotten at your tightening walls. He's astonished, truthfully, at how much your cunt can open. How eager it is to be pumped and used until it’s satisfied. Words can’t seem to leave him though, he can’t tell you how much he loves feeling your cunt and Seungmin’s cock working together. 

No, instead, the noises he’s making are eerily similar to Seungmin. To try and quiet himself, Minho buries his face into your neck. He licks and sucks the skin there, gripping your ass harder as he manages to finally match his pace with the were-dog.

With your scent (and with the help of the pill) he understands why you bit him. What better way to claim you than both on the inside and outside? His teeth graze the sensitive part of your neck. You whine, lifting your neck higher to allow Minho better access. It’s not as easy to do with your body jolting from their thrusts, but Seungmin is quick to help.

He uses a hand to grip your hair, lifting you so high that your chest completely lifts from Minho’s. You whimper at the sudden movement, but the men are quick to kiss each side of your throat in apology. The new angle has you gushing overwhelmingly. Minho might have to buy a new mattress entirely.

“Feel that?” Seungmin glances at Minho. “Feel that pussy clenching?”

Minho can’t find the will to pull his lips away from you, so he looks back at Seungmin in acknowledgment. 

“That’s her telling us to cum in it. Ready to be bred like a good pup, huh?” He shakes his fist with your hair in his hand. 

You let him wiggle your head, nodding along with the movements. Seungmin grunts with approval and keeps your neck bare to them. Their movements grow sloppy, suddenly unable to keep a solid rhythm with their cocks pushing deeper and deeper until you know it’s only a matter of time before their knots fill you. You feel your saliva drip down your chin and Minho is gracious enough to kiss the drool away. 

Seungmin’s claws dig into your back and scalp and Minho’s blunt nails squeeze the flesh of your ass. They snarl, though this time, it’s far from how it was before. 

“Shit. How are you still so tight with two cocks in you?” Minho grunts out. His teeth nip your throat and Seungmin mimics on the other side. “So close, pup.” Seungmin sucks harshly on your bruising flesh. “Gonna take our knots so good.”

“So good,” you confirm. “Give it to me. Min’... Seung’. I need it.”

It’s in unison that they bite you. Minho’s dull teeth hurt compared to Seungmin’s pointed canines, but the stinging on your neck is nothing compared to the stretch between your legs when they force their knots in. You nearly scream from the intrusion, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally, finally cum with every cell in your body.

Your cunt expands with the spurts of cum from their cocks. It’s impossible for anything to drip out of your cunt, their dicks are perfectly made to ensure your pussy swallows everything. Their growls are loud in your ears, possessive and satisfied with their knot being buried in you. Minho is first to pull his teeth away from you, licking the mark better until he moves to a different spot to suck. Seungmin, on the other hand, opts to bite harder, ensuring his teeth will leave marks you’ll have to cover up. It’s not until he tastes the familiar metallic tang that he pulls away and pacifies the sting with his lips.

Seungmin releases his grip and you collapse on Minho’s chest. The men give shallow thrusts to further guarantee that you’re stuffed before you whine and twitch. Their hands soothe your body to coax you further into relaxation. 

Minutes pass by before Minho thinks he’s ready to move. He tries to pull his cock out, but he’s met with resistance as if his dick and your pussy are actually molded together…with Seungmin’s, unfortunately. 

You bark out a cry from pain - not the good kind - and Seungmin growls with annoyance.

“What the fuck?” Minho looks bewildered. His confused eyes find Seungmin’s. “Why can’t I move?” You’d laugh if you weren’t so fucked out, or if the throbbing between your legs was bearable. Seungmin clicks his tongue and laughs colorlessly. “Cuz we’re knotted, pretty boy. You’re gonna be stuck with me for a while. Literally.”

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ryozakidesu]

illicit affairs - l.hc

4/4 of diary of the heartbreakers

summary:➸ ♡ Infamous for being every girl's guilty pleasure, Lee Haechan strutted through his life shamelessly. But recently, the new girl caught his eye. Im Hayeon, who he believes that would finally tame his wreckless heart. He was confident he could get the girl. And when he did, he never expected her to have baggages. For example, you, Im Hayeon's best friend. Who suddenly, sparked an idea on his pretty little head. You're trouble-- and you're making Haechan commit Illicit Affairs.

“You're making me do bad things, very, bad things. But then again, I'm no stranger in being the bad guy."

GENRE: Angst, Humor, Fluff, Smut

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Drugs & Alcohol, Infidelity (Cheating), Mentions of Self-harm, Haechan and reader are assholes, nonidol!haechanxfem!reader

WC: 20k (I know, shush)

DISCLAIMER: This story is purely fanfiction. Only the names of the Idols are used, and does not reflect on them in real life. There's no way in any shape of form that they are like this in person, because I MADE IT UP. I don't personally know them. DO NOT STEAL / TRANSLATE / MODIFY. This is my work and I don't appreciate people stealing it. Thank you.

enjoy reading!!

To be fair, Lee Haechan never claimed to be the good guy.

No, matter of fact, he takes pride in being insufferable. He makes it his mission to piss everyone off when he gets in the room. He gets off knowing that even though they hate him, they still can’t get enough of him.

“Lee Haechan!” A girl screams on top of her lungs, rage evident with the way her voice scratches. “Fuck, Renjun, please open this fucking door—” He practically broke his knuckles from knocking at the door too much, but he didn’t care. He needs to get in— like, right now.

For what it feels like two decades, Renjun finally opened the door and he quickly threw his entire body in the room.

“Close it, close it, close it!” He says, struggling to close the door and just as soon as Gaeun, or whatever her name is stepped in front of the door ready to barge in, Haechan manages to close it properly.

“Lee fucking Haechan, what did you do this time?!” Renjun asks, more so yelled whilst grabbing his slippers to throw towards the heaving boy.

“Shit, put that down you crazy bitch!” He flinches everytime Renjun moves his hand with the weapon.

“What the fuck is happening—” Jaemin asks, just leaving the bathroom to witness the war that’s going on in his living room.

“A crazy girl is currently trying to break our door, again, thanks to this fucking—” Renjun finally throws the slipper, but Haechan, being in this same spot way too often, dodges it easily. “—whore!” he winces as he missed

“Okay y’all better keep it down before Jeno wakes up and I know you know he’ll fucking turn you upside down, Haechan.” Jaemin reminds the both of them that the real monster is sleeping, and if Haechan wakes him up even a minute early from his supposed alarm, Jeno would have his arm broken in two seconds.

“Fine! Injunnie, please, let’s calm down. She’s not even there anymore!” Haechan points at the door, and when they glanced at the little gap in the bottom, he was proven to be right. No one’s at the door.

“You’re gonna tell me what happened this time,” Renjun asks, this time his voice controlled but still angry.

Haechan takes a deep breath, plopping himself at the couch before slowly smirking at both of his friends in front of him.

“It’s kinda funny—”

“If you don’t tell us right now I’ll make you eat your shirt,” Jaemin says through his smile.

Haechan rolls his eyes. “Remember Gaeun? From the last party?”

Both his friends took a minute before nodding.

“Yeah so.. we had sex last night.. in her house… and uhm–” he cleared his throat. “Also remember that Spanish professor I bagged last month? Yeah… uh, that was kinda her mom.”

Five full seconds have passed but no one dares to say anything. Renjun’s jaw is on the floor and Jaemin, well.. he smiles like a freak after a few seconds of silence.

“Can’t say I’m not impressed, I mean.. if any of us will do the dumbest shit out there it would be you, but dude… that’s another level of whoreness.” Jaemin says, crossing his arms on his chest and shrugging like it’s a normal conversation.

“I swear to god, if any of those girls even try to get in my way to find you, I'll burn your entire pc set.” Renjun stated with a serious face.

Haechan smirks as he looks at him, fond of Renjun’s annoyed expression, exactly what he liked to see. He could’ve sworn Renjun looks the best when mad.

See, Haechan thrives in the thrill of it all. Girls love bad boys, and he’s really good at being exactly that. The rush of having sex feeds him, the adrenaline fuels his entire system.

He’s hard wired to be a rule breaker. And it’s not like he tries so hard to get girls, that’s not the case at all. Far from that, actually. He doesn’t try at all, which adds above the plethora of things that allures girls to him. With a face and body like his, with the way he talks sweeter than honey, and his movement flows smoother than silk, he gets girls way too easy.

And of course, he pleases girls just as good as everybody expects him to. Matter of fact, way above expectations, the very reason that girls overlook his lack of compassion, or just empathy.

He’ll take you to heaven and let you fall to hell with a smile dancing on his lips.

He’ll treat you as if you’re the most beautiful girl in bed, but act like he doesn’t know you the next morning.

And it’s not like girls doesn’t know that he doesn’t look for a serious relationship, because words travel fast, and Haechan’s reputation is well known, but then again, he’s just that good, that he got girls risking getting their fragile hearts broken in hopes that Lee Haechan will take them serious.

Pfft, even that sentence makes him laugh.

Different girls every other day, Renjun still questions how Haechan avoids diseases on how often he fucks. Jaemin calls his dick an immune titanium rod, and Jeno’s just convinced that Haechan has the most magical yet disgusting dick ever.

Meanwhile, Haechan just simplified it. He likes to fuck, and it’s just so happen he’s not bad on the eyes either, and God had blessed him with a stamina like a superbowl player and a libido of an incubus straight from hell. Not to mention, he’s big and he knows how to use it. With all of that combined, girls just fawn over him so… it all just makes sense. He doesn’t need to be nice. Lee Haechan is infamous for being every girl’s guilty pleasure.

“Who the fuck is she?!”

Haechan lets out an exasperated sigh, covering his right ear slightly as he flinches at the high pitched scream. Brushing his palm across his face, he faced the girl. Whispering an apology with the other girl on his side, he looks up.

“Look, Miyeon–”

“It’s Haru! My name doesn’t even sound like Miyeon!”

Haechan rolled his eyes. Pulling Haru on the side, “Remember how I told you we’re over?”

Although it was fun, Haechan has to admit that this part is exhausting. It’s the sex he enjoys, not the dealing with them after. He knows that they know that he’s not for the long game. It was never that serious, and with the amount of girls he had slept with, he expected them to already know how it is.

“You– you can’t just say that over text!”

“Well, I just did.” He says casually, as if there’s no crying girl in front of him.

“You said– you said you loved me, asshole!” Haru cried more, in hopes to see a glimpse of empathy in the boy.

“Must’ve been high or something,”

And right then, he felt a sting on his right cheek, and gasps from the small crowd that’s gathered. Haru walked off a crying mess, while Haechan was still trying to recover from the ringing in his ear.

“You handled that very well.” Yangyang teases when Haechan comes back to their table.

“Shut your ass up, before I knock your big ass teeth out,” He hissed, and sat by his girl that’s now looking at him shocked and angry.

“Look, baby she’s just crazy, alright? I’m done with her and I’m all about you now,” He says, disgustingly sweet as he puts his hands over her shoulders. and it sounds so fucking insane, but it worked. The girl looked up at him with hope, nodding, believing in what spell Haechan said to her.

“As I was saying,– before you got your ass handed to you– there’s this girl transferring mid semester from Sacred Heart, and apparently she’s the hottest girl from there,” Shotaro, one of his friend, says.

Haechan rolls his eyes, “I don’t care about girls, dude. I have my girl here,” He squeezes the girls arms and smirks at her, making his friends gag in disbelief.

Sacred Heart? He knew about girls from Sacred Heart. Jaemin’s girl, the same one who rejected him was from Sacred Heart. So no, he doesn’t like girls from Sacred Heart.

Besides, there’s plenty of hot girls everywhere, it’s not like he exclusively likes to fuck University girls. It’s not like this girl is that extremely hot to actually pique his curiosity.

“You’re so sweet, babe.” The girl leans on him, with a sickening smirk on Haechan’s face, he brazenly winked at his friends.

“Of course,”

His friends can’t help but to just shake their heads in amusement, seeing Haechan’s magic work first hand still amazes them sometimes.

“Holy shit,”

Haechan didn’t look behind him, even with his friend’s over dramatic reaction to something happening. Their eyes wide, pointing at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“That’s her, dude,” Yangyang says in almost an awe.

That’s what made Haechan look behind him.

And when he does… oh boy.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“No, I swear, I’m in love!” Haechan clutches on the throw pillow, looking like a lovesick puppy.

Renjun was baffled. It was strange seeing him like this, Haechan never and he meant it when he says never, says that four letter word out loud, even more so pertaining to a girl.

“What’s her name again?” Jeno asks, brows furrowed.

“Im Hayeon,” Haechan says her name in such a delicate tone, as if said out loud, butterflies and rainbows will start pouring out.

“Sacred Heart, right?” Jeno reads off his phone, in hopes to find the girl’s picture. He admits she’s pretty, no, scratch that, she’s beautiful.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Lee Jeno. As a matter of fact, it goes out to the three of you– she’s off limits, alright, fuckers?”

Jeno scoffs, Renjun rolls his eyes and Jaemin– well he’s not here. “She’s all yours man. Heard everybody wants her ever since she transferred tho,”

Haechan almost laughs at that statement. “Trust, I will get her– because damn, I think I might go crazy if I don’t.”

Renjun still couldn’t believe all of this is coming from Lee Haechan himself. He’s still suspicious, but at the same time, he hopes that his friend really tries to be serious for once.

“I need everybody to know that I’m off the market. Officially!” Lee Haechan spoke with an intention, one only a love struck person would have.

“Damn, there goes his reputation– straight down the drain.” Says Jeno, watching Haechan daydream about a girl, holding a pillow close to his chest.

“I still don’t trust this,” Renjun says, watching his friend grow heart shaped eyes, clutching his chest on just the mere thought of that Hayeon girl.

And when he heard her talk, oh, game’s over.

Voice sweet as honey.

“I’m Lee Haechan,” He stood before Hayeon, confidently offering his hand to the girl, and damn, her eyes… Her eyes might just melt Haechan in a second.

“Hi.. I’m Ha–”

“Hayeon. Im Hayeon.” Funny, Haechan who’s infamous for forgetting girls names, remembers hers– and she didn’t even say a proper word to sentence yet.

“You’re really pretty.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“You’re sweet,” and when Hayeon giggles and avoided his staring eyes, he knew.

Immediately, he knew it’s so over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“You’ve got two beds here, sweets. When’s your roommate coming?” Haechan asks in curiosity.

“Soon, hopefully. She’s from Sacred Heart too, been friends since forever,”

Haechan nods, “Aren’t they not accepting late registrants?”

“Yeah they are, but I talked to her on the phone and she says she’ll be here soon. I really hope she settles in quick, I don’t want to have a random roommate or something.” She states. Haechan finds it so cute that her face is so expressive. Every word comes with emotion, and he can just awe.

“I could be your roommate,” He snickers in.

“Don’t be silly,” Hayeon giggled, pulling a smile out of him.

“Don’t want to interrupt– but I think I’m gonna pass out if I didn’t have caffeine in the next two minutes..” Yangyang says suddenly, bursting the bubble Haechan and Hayeon were in.

“I’ll treat you guys! Dream cafe?” Hayeon claps in excitement.

Haechan shakes his head off, “Funny you think you’d pay when you’re around me, sweets. Don’t be silly,”

This isn’t like him, at all. It’s been three days, and he already can feel the lack of sex in his system. He blocked all his girl’s numbers and he can’t find it in himself to look at any other girls right now, except for of course, Hayeon.

“How long are you gonna keep up this act, man?” Yangyang whispered as the two of them walked behind Hayeon, entering the cafe.

“Shut the fuck up, what act? This is me, dude,”

“Don’t make me laugh, in about two days your dick will fall off and find a girl to fuck on its own,” Yangyang laughed but he got cut off when Haechan hits him at the back of his head.

“If she fucking hears you I’ll actually decapitate you,” He whispers, “–and no, it wouldn’t. I’ll make sure at the end of the week we’d be together and we’ll have the most mind blowing se—”

“Haechan? What’s yours?” He didn’t even realize Hayeon is already at the counter when she calls him. He quickly turns to her at a full tilt and beamed,

“Just Iced Americano,” He says, walking up to her to join her at the counter.

Once they settled in a table, Haechan just sat quietly listening to her voice, telling stories and he’s sure he’s never heard something sweeter. He felt like a creep, admiring her every feature but he can’t just help it.

He’s sure her lips would taste like honey, and god, what he would do to taste–

“What did you say your friend’s name again?” Yangyang says in between his sips.

“Y/n, why?”

“Y/n… where do I know her… shit I feel like I knew her..” Yangyang thinks harder than he does in his Biology exam, wondering why your name leaves familiarity in his tongue..

“She’s… been around. Have you perhaps… slept with her?” Hayeon winced at the end of her sentence. Haechan just furrows his brow, confused as to why they’re talking about a random person.

“Oh, fuck, Choi Seungcheol’s Y/n?!” Yangyang almost screamed. Haechan blinks thrice, very baffled about Yangyang’s reaction.

Choi Seungcheol? He knows that man.

And before he could join the conversation, Hayeon’s phone rings, and of course, her phone is pink, with a big ribbon at the back. Hmm, would she like pink flowers? Maybe–

[Shit, Hayeon, I’m not fucking pregnant!]

Yangyang spits the coffee in his mouth, and Haechan chokes on his own drink upon hearing the loud voice over Hayeon’s phone. The girl just froze, looking up at them with wide eyes, and then closing in her shoulders in embarrassment.

“H-hey, hi! I’m with friends,” She answers meekly, putting the phone off of the speaker.

Yangyang covers his grin over his coffee, Haechan acting like he heard nothing.

What a weird conversation starter.

“You’re at the campus? What? Now?” Hayeon says in panic. Haechan was alert in his seat, in case Hayeon needed him to come along.

And as expected, she now started to gather her bag, “Sorry, guys but I have to go. My friend’s somewhere the campus and I need to find her,”

“D’you need me with you?” Haechan offers, but deep inside him, he just wanted to lay down somewhere. All that heavy lifting made him tired– the caffeine getting him even more exhausted.

“No, not really, Channie.” The sudden nickname elicits a hue of pink in his cheeks, getting him flustered. No one ever calls him that.

Yangyang on his side snorts, eliciting an elbow from Haechan making him hiss. “I’ll text you, okay, sweets?”

“Alright, bye, guys!” And off she goes, with her elegant strides, she walks away.

“Channie– what the fuck was that?” Yangyang burst out laughing, but Haechan was still.

“I think I’m hard.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Three weeks.

“I’m starting to lose eyesight on my ears– and I’m fucking chafing bro!” He cries at Jeno, who’s just focused on his game, unbothered by the grown ass man crying behind him.

This has been officially, since he lost his virginity, the longest Haechan went without sex and he’s about to explode.

“But I can’t– not when it’s not her. Fuck, man, why can’t she just put out!”

Haechan pulls at his hair, frustrated and horny. He doesn’t know what to do– he wanted Hayeon, that’s for sure, but at the same time, old habits die hard, and there’s only so much his hands can do.

He knew Hayeon wants him too– that’s just obvious. However, she just doesn’t allow him to take a step further, and duh, he’ll never do anything that she doesn’t want, so it leaves him where he’s at. Delirious.

“Jeno!” He whines again, this time, tapping his friend on the shoulders.

Jeno moves his headset from his ear a bit, looking at him. “What?”

“You weren’t listening all this time?!”

Jeno, eyebrows lifted and clueless, shrugged before going back on his game.

“You fucking bitch,” Haechan murmured before walking out the room.

He was about to take a cold shower, as always, but then his phone pinged.

[11:01pm] hayeonnie: hi haechannie, wanna come over?

As if electrified, Haechan straightened up, quickly bolted out of their apartment.

There’s only one reason why she would invite him over, no? At this time, too? Haechan can feel legit excitement on his body as he drives to her apartment.

He stood outside her apartment door, inhaling deep to calm himself down, and adjusting his already hard dick struggling in his skinny jeans.

[11:12pm] haechan: im here @ ur door, sweets ;))

Taking a look at his phone camera and fixing his hair, he waits.

After a minute, she replied.

[11:13pm] hayeonnie: omg, already? im out buying our snacks but the door should be unlocked u can w8 in my room !!

He stood there a little confused, but he understood quickly, because he did sprint to get here. His sneakers didn’t even touch the ground. He’s that desperate.

He texted a simple ‘okay’ and attempted to turn the knobs, and thankfully, it was unlocked.

Her apartment was cold, but definitely lived in. The few sweaters lying around the couch and the succulents decorated on every corner made the room cozy, really different when Haechan helped her move in a couple of weeks ago.

What caught his eye was a couple extra home slippers by the door, one bedazzled pink and the other plain white, with a hotel branding on its side. Huh, maybe her roommates finally here.

Haechan sat carefully on the couch, checking his pockets for something really important.

Pulling the foil out of his front pocket, he made sure he brought not one, but three condoms.

“Okay,” He sighs and finally sinks into the sofa. He can relax now, he’s ready. He’s just waiting for his girl!

As soon as he felt comfortable, his entire body jolts when he heard one of the door open.

“The fuck?” His brows furrowed as he sees a tall man shirtless walking mindlessly to the kitchen counter.

When he got a good lighting on his face, his eyes widened.

It’s Choi Seungcheol.

It’s Choi motherfucking Seungcheol!

He never even saw this man in person, but the stories he heard about the infamous Sacred Heart Alumni was crazy. Apparently, he hosted the most wildest party that went down in history, and ever since then, he led the Carat House which rivaled NCU’s biggest frat. A quarterback that had the entire season in his palm— and because of that, NCU looked at him as an enemy.

So yeah, as an NCU home grown, he was taught that Choi Seungcheol is kind of the villain.

He didn’t realize how bad he’s staring at the man, until he looked at him in the eyes with a sour expression.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Seungcheol with his deep voice asks. Haechan blinks,

“Nothing–”

“Are you here for y/n? I hate to break it to you but she’s not seeing anyone else anymore. So I suggest get your ass out before I fucking–”

“No! N-No, I don’t even know her. I’m here for Hayeon, uh, she’s out for a bit but she’s on her way back.” Haechan defends himself, and he hated the way he spoke in panic. He’s losing his cool, damn if anyone could see him pissing himself infront of another man, he'd be ruined.

Seungcheol says nothing but nods, before grabbing his shirt which somehow, was under the table.

“Just making things clear. You don’t want to mess with me, boy.” Seungcheol says and smirks, before leaving the apartment.

When Haechan finally loosens up, that’s when he realize he’s been holding his breath the entire conversation. When the door finally closed, he shakes his head.

“Fucking bitch. I’d break his pretty little lips open if he’d said one more word but I’m– Jesus fucking christ!”

“He’s out?”

“Jesus!”

A girl peeped through the other bedroom door,as he holds his chest in surprise. What the hell is happening?!

“Oh, sorry. My bad,” The girl says, gritting her teeth.

Haechan still holding his chest, looked up at the girl. His knees almost turned jelly because holy shit, this girl is so fucking gorgeous.

And if he could only speak, the first word that would fall of his lips was–

“Damn,”

“What?”

Oh, fuck, did he say it out loud?

“Nothing– shit, yeah he’s.. uh, out.” Haechan straighten up his posture, putting his hands on his pockets and clearing his throat to gain composure back.

“Oh thank god, I don’t know how long I pretended to be asleep for his ass to get a hint,” You sigh, finally letting your entire body out the room and walk past him like he’s not standing there.

Even your voice sounded hot. It was deeper than Hayeon’s, with a slight scratch at your words as if you’d just got done singing at the karaoke for hours. It sounded so fucking hot in his ears.

You went to the kitchen, grabbed you a coke in a can and opened it with your teeth. The mere sounds of your actions was the only thing keeping the room less awkward.

“Lee Haechan, was it?”

“Yeah.. how’d you know?”

“Hayeon tells me everything. Also the fact that you’re pretty famous in this school,” You chuckle at your own words, and he can’t help but feel a little intimidated but definitely… something else.

Sure, one of the reason is because you look like you’re not wearing pants under your oversized shirt, but it’s more in how you handle yourself. You look like you don’t care about anything.

“Y-yeah but not anymore tho.. I’m straightening up.. you know, Hayeon likes good guys so,” He doesn’t even know why he’s panicking to explain.

“Sure she does. By the way, you didn’t see Seungcheol here, alright? Nothing gets out of this apartment,” You walked towards the couch where Haechan stood, and his body tensed.

He gets a whiff of a powdery scent, like some kind of delicate perfume you had on and usually he prefers fruity ones but he’s starting to like this one more.

“You know that the entirety of NCU hates him, right?” He acts nonchalant.

“I understand your lack of tolerance with him, yes. That’s exactly why,” You pause when you get near enough, “–you, Lee Haechan, won’t say anything about it. Besides, we broke up so I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem.”

There’s something in the way you say his name, like it meant different. It felt strange, he’s used to hearing his name said with anger, adoration or pleasure, but with your voice, it just sounded… weird.

Before he could ponder about it further, the door opened, revealing the girl he had went here for. Right, Hayeon.

“Haechannie! I see you met y/n.” Hayeon were quick to step in between him and you.

There’s an awkward tinge in her face, as she smiles way too big, stretching her lips to appear enthusiastic. Haechan didn’t notice, but he definitely felt like him and Hayeon should just go inside her room.

“You’re right, Hayeon, he is a cutie.” You say, with the most obvious sarcasm.

“Right. Uh, we’ll go,” Hayeon gripped Haechan’s wrist, pulling him with her inside his room and before she could even close the door, his eyes found yours, and maybe he was hallucinating, but he definitely saw you look at him too.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You lied.

You don’t think Haechan is cute.

You think he’s fucking hot.

His golden skin and his perfect lips made you almost quiver in fear, that you might just have the hots for your best friend’s man. Which even for a woman like you, is a low blow. You don’t want to be the girl who fucks a man whose spoken for.

So you tossed it to you being horny. Maybe Seungcheol didn’t do enough, maybe if you’d seen a different person standing on your living room, you’d feel bothered too. It’s not Haechan– no, it can’t be him.

Because if it is him, then you’ve got a real big problem. Especially the next day, when Hayeon told you the news.

“I agreed to be his girl, and we did it.”

Normally, you’d congratulate her because she doesn’t have that many ex boyfriends and she’s the type to take a relationship seriously. After a few years of being single– she finally has a man, again.

But damn, you’ll be lying if that didn’t annoy you one bit. How’d Hayeon get to him first? Ugh.

[NCU’s like… really big. Just avoid him a little bit and it’d be fine.] Your friend, who is probably the person you trust the most, talks across the phone.

“Jurin, he’s literally my roommate’s boyfriend. I can’t even get away from him in my own fucking apartment.” You say, walking around the campus trying to find the auditorium, for one of your lectures. Jurin made a point, this campus is enormous compared to SHU.

[I don’t know what to tell ‘ya, he is fine, and it’s your fault for missing the first day and he happened to see Hayeon first.]

Finally, you seem to see the entrance to the auditorium, but you’re not sure. You try to look at your schedule, “To be fair, it’s just my first week here. Maybe there’s someone else I could obsess over–”

“That’s auditorium hall three, Prof Watson’s lecture?”

You turn to see a boy, with baggy jeans, a baggy shirt, a snapback worn backwards with a headphone barely hanging on it, a laptop on one hand, and a skateboard on the other. You wanted to scoff, this is almost a stereotypical college dude, except he actually rocks it. You’re conflicted, if you find this hot or not.

“Oh, yeah, uh– thanks?”

“Osaki Shotaro, by the way.” He offered to shake your hand, but forgets that he’s occupied with both. That’s when you actually let out a chuckle.

[Hello?? Just find somebody to fuck to get your mind off the dude,] You forget that Jurin’s still on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call you back.” You absentmindedly say before hanging up the phone.

“Y/n.” You smile at him, and with his innocent eyes, he smiled back.

୨♡୧

“That was.. Wow.” Shotaro sighed in satisfaction, combing his hand across his hair.

You smirked at him, finding it adorable how he’s reacting to what just happened about three minutes ago.

Jurin was right, fucking somebody else was distracting enough to get your mind off of Haechan, but it felt like putting a band aid on a broken glass. You knew damn well you’d be back gushing about Haechan once you see him again.

“You’re great too, you know,” You say, fixing your skirt.

“Yeah sure but you… damn.” You chuckled at him.

Shotaro is hot, and shit, did he knew how to use his body. And for the first time, you had sex with a man who moans in Japanese. That was hot as fuck.

“Y’know rumors about the hottest chick from Sacred Heart went around before you transferred, and I never expected you’d even notice me in the first place,”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Oh, that’s probably Hayeon. Not me,”

You let out a laugh. Hayeon has always been crowned the most gorgeous student in SHU, and you were always out of the spotlight. Lots of people thought that you’re in her shadow, but to be honest, you like being in the dark.

You get away from a lot of things being unnoticed.

“You’re Seungcheol’s girl, right?”

You wince after hearing your ex’s name, but you were also used to this. Seungcheol and you had a past, a very bad one at that, and people often asks you about it. He was basically a celebrity in your previous school.

“Was.” You put an emphasis on the word.

“Then you’re the girl they were talking about. And to be frank, I think you’re hotter.” Shotaro claims with his chest out.

“You’re saying that because we just fucked,”

“I’m just being honest, but yeah, that too.”

Shotaro chilled in the apartment a couple more hours when you decided to order food. Of course, he insisted that he paid, and who are you to resist free food.

“The audacity to say Game of Thrones is way too boring, and here you are gushing over Harry Potter?!” Shotaro yelled playfully.

“Hey, I like what I like. Game of Thrones puts me to sleep faster than white noise,” You slurp on your Ramen, entertained over Shotaro losing his shit.

You two continued to bicker until you heard the sound of the pin to the door being opened.

The both of you looked at who’s coming, and you mentally curse seeing Haechan’s pretty face.

You roll your eyes, breathing in his overwhelming cologne that immediately surrounds the place. His leather jacket that he somehow make it work, and his tight skinny jeans that made him look taller. Fuck, this was never your type. What is wrong with you?

“Dude!” Shotaro jumps excitedly, seeing Haechan. That’s when Hayeon followed in, smiling at Shotaro but the confusion in her eyes stayed.

“What are you doing here?” Haechan says, eyes switching from Shotaro and you.

“I invited him here,” You say, trying your best to avoid his lingering stare. You felt like a highschool girl avoiding her crush. This sucks.

“You two know each other?” Hayeon asks.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” Shotaro says proudly. Dapping up Haechan as soon as he got near him. Haechan seemed suspicious, still glinting his eyes at his friend.

“You and her?” Haechan whispered ever so slightly, in hopes to not be heard by you or Hayeon.

“Yeah, dude.” Shotaro knowingly nods in excitement, as if winning a game, dragging the word ‘Yeah’ to emphasize his exhilaration.

Haechan nods, silently commending his friend for bagging you. He never knew Shotaro had it in him, to be honest.

“Really, y/n, Haechan’s friend?” Meanwhile, Hayeon pulled you aside, scolding you as soon as you were out of earshot by the two boys.

“I didn’t know he was his friend?”

“Look, I believe you, but I want this thing with Haechan to work. And I can’t have you sleeping around with his friends and risking my relationship with my boyfriend–”

“How would that risk anything? I’m literally minding my own business.” This was one thing you hated about Hayeon. She gets too controlling, everything should be in her way. That’s how she wants it.

“I don’t know, maybe your hobby of sleeping around with his close friends then ghosting them to go back to Seungcheol– Gee, I don’t know if that’d upset Haechan and lookie here–” She points at herself animatedly, “Unfortunately, I’m friends with you so who will eventually take the blame?!”

Hayeon seemed to spit harshly with her words, and it left did kind of stung. Hayeon is nice, kind and caring, but there are times where she sure knows how to make people feel bad. Lucky for you, you’re one of the people who suffers from this side of her.

“Unfortunately– huh. Okay.” You smile bitterly at her, before grabbing your wrist back from her grip.

“Don’t worry, Hayeonnie. I’d step away from his friends, I wouldn't want to jeopardize your one week relationship with him. And I mean this from the bottom of my heart, I hope you shove Haechan so far up your ass, in that case, you’d be together forever, you psycho.”

You, on the other hand, never claimed to be nice.

As you walk away, you stare extra hard at her, and that’s when you see the familiar look in her eyes.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The difference of being in a new school compared to your old one, is that here, you had to start from scratch.

Yes, people here in NCU might’ve heard something about new students from SHU, given the famous rivalry between two schools and students who love getting dirt from each other, but you still need to build your persona from level zero.

“Word around here is that you’re apparently the hottest chick from Sacred Heart.” Juyeon, your seatmate in one of your classes.

“Apparently? Are you not sure?” You huffed.

He tilts his head to the side, “Don’t get me wrong, you are hot. But I’ve always thought you’d immediately jump on either Haechan or Jaemin once you moved here,”

You let out a chuckle. This man has no idea. You for sure would’ve jumped on Haechan. Your timing just fucked you over.

“Well, Haechan’s with my friend now so he’s out of the picture. Jaemin’s sexy, but not my type.”

“Meh, I’d give Haechan a month before he gets bored.” Juyeon shrugged.

You look back at him with intrigue, “Is he that much of a fuckboy?”

“He’s the worst out of the four of them. Haechan is infamous for fucking girls left and right. Jaemin is a close second, but Haechan? That man is a monster.”

You don’t know whats wrong with you, but your entire body suddenly turns warm over hearing Haechan’s reputation. You shift in your seat, contemplating a lot of things. Nasty things.

“Yeah? That bad, huh.” You clear your throat.

“Yep. But hey, heard he blocked all his girls for Hayeon. Made her an official girlfriend too. That got to count for something. Maybe he’s a changed man.”

Changed man your ass. “Nobody really changes, Juyeon. They just mask their true color. That isn’t changing, that’s just faking.”

The attention you received was nice at first, but as it went on, it felt irritating. Everybody just wants to talk to you and get to know you, despite the fact that you’ve made it clear that you’d rather keep to yourself.

You don’t know how Hayeon, or even Haechan does it.

They instantly became the power couple after a few more weeks of dating– and surprisingly, it seemed to be going on smoothly. They were both popular, Hayeon climbing up the status quo extra quick now that she has Haechan.

You? Oh, you tried to lie low, go back to what you had before, and at least try to stop ogling your friend’s boyfriend. It was just annoying before, but now it kind of starting to affect you.

Every time he’s in the apartment, it’s like he made it his mission to fuck Hayeon so hard that her moans sounded concerning, and in about an hour or two, you’ll see them cuddling in the couch watching a movie you’re sure they’ve seen before. Like, hell, who haven’t seen the Notebook?

“We’re ordering in, you want some?” Hayeon kindly asks, one time when you catch them on the kitchen counter.

You just woke up from your nap, and as soon as you see them making out in the kitchen, you almost want to knock yourself out.

“Nope. I’m actually craving for…” You take a look at your limited choice of cereal, “Fruit loops.”

“Hmmkay, I’ll head down stairs to get some packages, I swear they never bring my packages up here. Babe, please go with me?” The sickening baby voice she uses left you cringing, and all you can do is to fill your mouth up with a spoon full of cereal. This’ll keep you from saying shit you’d regret.

“My legs are about to give up, babe, we went for an hour of dog–”

You almost spit out your cereal, freezing over what Haechan just almost said. Are they fucking kidding you?

“–Cardio.” Haechan’s attempt at covering his sentence went unuseful, because you’re not dumb. You knew what he meant.

“Heh, okay, babe. Can you wait in my room?”

You see him furrow his brows at his girlfriend, “Can’t I wait here?”

Hayeon didn’t say anything, but her eyes said a lot more. She looks at you as if she’s seeing a problem with your presence around her boyfriend, without her in the room. She looks back at him, and sighed. “I’ll be right back,”

Once she closed the door, that’s when you chuckled. Same old Hayeon.

“That’s weird,” Haechan starts.

“That’s just how she is. Don’t worry,” You say casually, as if what she pertained to isn’t about you. Because it’s always about you.

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t trust me around men, she thinks I’ll jump every dick I came across to– specially you, her boyfriend,” The exaggerated tone you added to the term boyfriend was prominent. Saying it just annoyed you.

“Oh.. that’s.. that’s crazy. How’s you and Shotaro?” You didn’t want to read into his demeanor, and how fast he changes the topic, so you just grin.

“Meh, one time thing. Don’t worry tho, he’s a sport. Don’t want to break any friend dynamics you have with your circle,”

“Why would you break the dynamics?”

“Your friend Yangyang hit me up last night– and I almost gave in, but I think Hayeon is right, I don’t want to mess with your friends.” You say absent mindedly.

“I mean, they’re grown ass adults, it’s up to them if they let some girl break the friendship.” He casually blurts out, not even thinking of what he just said.

You catch a tiny bit of offense to it, “Some girl?”

He immediately raises his eyebrows in shock of his own word, blinking rapidly. “No! No, what I mean is it’s okay to do whatever you like! They have to deal with their own shit and it’s on them if they let it affect anything,”

You nod. Why does he seem nervous? This wasn’t what you expected from him at all. People says he’s over confident and cocky, but why is he stuttering in front of you now?

“Besides, your school is a lot bigger than Sacred Heart, I’m sure there's plenty of men that I can have. It’s not that hard to avoid your friend group,”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.” He clears his throat, for what seemed to be the nth time.

“I mean, I could, technically, go for your friend– Jaemin, was it?” You don’t know why, but you lied. Mainly to get a reaction out of him, indulging into your little theory.

“What? No. Not him, he’s obsessed with the art kid from SHU. Jeonghan’s friend?” His explanation seems valid. You bit your lip. You were expecting a lot more.

“Jeonghan’s ex? The girl who slept with Sir Nakamoto?” You asks, intrigued at the sudden mention of the girl you once knew from your previous school.

“Yeah! That one!”

You smirk in amusement, “Huh. Small world.”

“Yeah so definitely not Jaemin. Or Jeno, Or Renjun. Nope. They already have their own girl.” He says in finality, shaking his head.

You chuckle at his expression. He’s so damn cute. You just want to… fuck.

“Alright, chill. I’ll step back from your friends. God, you sound just like Hayeon.”

He flinched over the mention of his own girlfriends name. He looked like he forgot about her for a second there, but you don’t let yourself believe that. You’re just feeding into your delusions.

You drink the milk that’s left in your bowl, and when you bring it back down to the counter, you see Haechan’s gaze lowering in your face, stopping right where your lips are.

“You got some, uh–”

You point at your lips, “Oh,” you lick the milk mustache above your upper lip, all while Haechan watches.

Shit, this looks like an introduction to some porn. You didn’t even mean to do it, you swear!

He clears his throat again, “B-but… would you tho?”

You raise your brow at his sudden question.

“Would I.. what?”

“J-jump.. on my… d-dick?”

Slowly, the smirk you had before shows again.

“Oh, Haechan, that’s not a nice question to ask your girlfriend’s friend, now is it?”

“I-I was just–”

“Finally! I ran up here as fast as I could, what are you two talking about?” Hayeon’s catching her breath, quickly stepping between you and Haechan, effortlessly breaking the thick tension between you two.

You, on the other hand, managed to break your eyes away from the boy and walked to the sink to wash your bowl.

“Fruit loops,” you lie.

Haechan was still standing there, trying to amuse his girlfriend, as if he didn’t just ask you if you would jump on his dick a minute ago.

“Yeah, fruit loops.” He whispers as he takes a deep breath.

Things just got way more interesting.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan doesn’t know what it is. Maybe he’s just really tired, maybe the exams are slowly getting to him.

He laughs. He doesn’t give a fuck about the exams.

“I don’t like your friend, Renjun. His smile seems so fake when he smiles at me,” Hayeon says through her teeth.

“Nah, that’s how he is on everybody. He doesn’t even smile at me,” Hayeon snuggled more onto his side as they continued watching the Kissing Booth.

“I guess you know him better, but still, can you tell him to be nice?”

Haechan just nods at her. Renjun is nice, only to people who’s nice to him. However, in Hayeon’s case, Renjun is still doubting his relationship with her. Something about being way too quick, or way too forced.

And even tho Haechan doesn’t show it that much, he does value Renjun’s judgement among all of his friends. He trusts him to see through all his actions, and think of what’s best for him.

But, of course, he still insist that his relationship with Hayeon will work. Because it needs to work. He’s not gonna embarrass himself after chasing this woman for so long— only for him to break up in a month.

“Let’s go to bed?” Finally, the awful movie ended, and a sense of relief washes over him. He hated the Kissing Booth.

“I’ll do the thing that you like..” Hayeon whispered lowly in his ears, making him smirk. She knows exactly how to get his attention.

However, before they could even get walk to Hayeon’s room, the front door swung wide open, revealing a huffing figure stomping inside.

You’re angry—no, you’re actually fuming. And it all made sense when he saw whoever followed you into the apartment.

“Fuck you!” You yelled as you threw your bag on the floor.

Seungcheol brushed his hands through his hair as he strides big steps towards you. Haechan frowned at how aggressive Seungcheol was approaching you and he was about to interfere, when Hayeon tightened her grip at his wrist.

“Don’t– they do this all the time. Let’s just go in,” She says quietly.

“Get out of my fucking apartment, Choi Seungcheol.” You say, voice cut deeply, eyes closed as if trying to gather patience.

“What were you doing with that Soohyun, huh? Throwing ass like I’m not fucking in the same room?!” Seungcheol shouted, pointing at you as if you were nothing. Haechan flinched everytime he sees Seungcheol almost touch you.

“We’re over, weeks ago, you delusional fuck! You’re fucking stalking me— it’s like you have a fucking tracking device, weirdo!”

“If you think we’re over, think again, bitch. I made you. I own you. You can do whatever you want, switch schools, create a whole new personality, but the truth is, you’re still the same fucking slut for me.”

“That’s–” Haechan was supposed to get in between you and Seungcheol, but a forceful tug on his wrist made him stumble back to Hayeon’s room.

”Leave it, Haechan. It’s not our business!” Hayeon then slammed the door shut.

“That’s your friend, babe! He’s going to hurt her!”

“It’s their problem, Haechan! They’re always like this! That’s how they are! An hour from now, they’re gonna be fucking like rabbits next door, trust me.”

He doesn’t know what to feel. Did they see the same thing? Did she not see how aggressive that guy is towards you? How can Hayeon let her friend get treated that way?

Haechan was straight up dumbfounded.

Maybe it’s a Sacred Heart thing. He’s heard some of the crazies went there. Maybe you’re one of them.

But every minute that had passed, he felt like his ears was hyper alert. His eyes wandered around the thin wall separating Hayeon’s room to where you are.

Another muffled scream, followed by a thud that sounded like something being thrown across the room. It felt like a telenovela, a drama that he used to watch.

“They’ve been like that forever. Y/n always leaves, but Seungcheol always chases. It’s a cycle, and you should be used to it, because no matter how bad they get, they’ll still end up together.” Hayeon further explained.

But he still doesn’t get it. He only saw a fracture of your relationship with that man and he could already tell it’s not a very healthy relationship, a dangerous one at that, and Hayeon, who’s apparently supposed to be your friend, witnessing this for a long time— thinks this is okay?

“Don’t worry, babe, okay? It’s fine.” Hayeon’s attempt at calming him down did little to nothing. Not when the silence that followed sounded terrifying.

Turns out, Hayeon was right.

The angry curses, the yelling, and the aggression earlier was completely gone— replaced by the same words, just different way of expressing them.

Haechan hears a very different types of curses next door now. The rhythmic banging on the wall adds to it all, and all he can think of are you graphic moans filling up his brain.

Haechan was rightfully confused. However, confusion isn’t the only one swimming in his system, there was something else. Hearing you get fucked less than five feet away from him left an unnamed sensation he was scared to confront.

So, he did was he does best. He distracted himself by focusing on the girl he’s with, the girl who he should only think about.

Yet, despite his eagerness to erase whatever thought he had, Haechan was never a strong willed person. He admits that he’s mentally weak, that he’s a slave to his own body.

So when his brain was focused on Hayeon, his body reacted differently.

Because every time he hears you moan, his hips involuntarily thrust– and then everything else just happened without him thinking about anything, just desperately seeking release. He listened to every cry you made, every breath you take.

“Ah,” He moans deeply, eyes closed shut as he tried to scrape the bottom of the barrel and listen intently to your whimpering next door.

“Harder,” Your faint voice kept him going.

Not Hayeon’s, no one else but yours.

“Hm-hmm,” He bit his lip as he followed your order, thrusting with extra vigor. He kept his words vague, not letting Hayeon figure out what the fuck is in his head.

“Cum,” You muttered more incoherent words but he takes what he could understand. And as if in command, he cums. Hard.

The moment he opens his eyes,

“God, what’s with you tonight!” Hayeon giggles in satisfaction, catching her breath. Once he was back in his senses, a huge wave of guilt washed over him.

Did he… just fucked his girlfriend to the thought of you?

He shakes his head violently, as if the idea of him doing it could fall out of his memories.

Haechan was a pervert. He never denied it. But this… this just made him feel dirty. He’d admit, he isn’t the nicest, but come on, he’s a decent human being–sometimes.

“Where are you going?” Hayeon asks when she looks at him.

He grabbed his jacket, “Renjun called.” He didn’t.

“Uh, okay?”

And for the first time, Haechan didn’t bother to look at her eyes before he walked out her room.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan had already heard of every insult he can imagine, and he never finds it in himself to care. Heck, sometimes, he takes pride for being called a manwhore. In his mind, that’s just another way of saying he gets so much pussy, that people felt the need to give him the title.

But this time, it’s different. He didn’t hear it, he felt it.

This was the first time he felt a tiny bit of shame. And it doesn’t feel good, like, at all.

He struggles to even admit that what people thought of him was true. That he cannot handle being in a serious relationship longer than a couple months.

He could’ve sworn that what he felt with Hayeon was true, it was intense, it was a different feeling than the girls he had before. But then you came along, and ruined everything.

Any chance of Haechan finally finding his true love crumbled upon his feet, all because of you.

That’s it, you’re a curse. A curse he needs to avoid at all costs.

“Woah, you look like shit.” Renjun sat beside him, carrying a shit-eating grin only a true friend could show.

“Shut up, I’m in a predicament.” He brushed Renjun off.

“Predicament? Big word for elmo,”

“Aish–” He hits Renjun, softly, of course, and Renjun just laughed. Seeing Haechan visibly distressed somehow intrigued him, because Haechan never worries about anything, at all.

“Is it Hayeon?” He asks casually.

Haechan sat straight, coughing– “Nope! Not at all– me and my girlfriend are very happy together.” Haechan frantically shakes his head, smiling as if a gun is pointed to his head.

“O-kay? Calm down, freak.” Renjun proceeds to take out his laptop.

Haechan rolls his eyes, but as soon as he focuses on the door of the lecture hall, his breathing hitches.

You entered, hiding under a black hoodie, head hanging low. You clutch your bag as if someone’s out to take it from you. Your steps are calculated, but rushed at the same time.

Odd, Haechan muttered deep in his breath.

However, even after being intrigued by your peculiar demeanor, Haechan didn’t approach you. Not that you care tho— this is only one of two classes he shares with you. It’d be easy to avoid you, right?

Wrong. In some shit luck, for the semester’s first project by pair, his name just had to be called after yours.

Biting his lip as he strides to reach you, he took a deep breath before actually approaching you. You had this dark aura, ever since the start of the lecture. Haechan couldn’t name it.

“W-we’re partners,” There’s the fucking stuttering again. He swears this is all your fault.

About three seconds passed before you finally acknowledge him, like you’ve been pulled out of a trance. You snap at Haechan, but the wary eyes turned soft as soon as your eyes connects with him.

“Yeah. R-right, uh– let’s just do it in the apartment, so we’d both be comfortable since you basically live with us too.” The pathetic attempt of smirking did little to nothing, to cover the puffy eyes you desperately hid.

But then again, Haechan’s not in the place to ask you whats wrong. He doesn’t want to be concerned, nor does he want to care. It’s not like you’re someone to him. Psh, you’re just his girlfriend’s best friend.

Jesus fucking christ.

“K.” He slings his bag on his shoulders, and spins around to walk away.

What you didn’t see is how tight he grips the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white, and his breathing shakes as soon as he left.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

This won’t do.

Ever since he got to your apartment, all you said to him was ‘Hi,’ and you never talked to him again if it’s not about the project. Worst, you keep your words as minimum as possible, and your hand trembles every time you type in your laptop.

There’s no way you’re okay. You’re avoiding his stares, you’re refusing to hold a conversation even for a minute.

Haechan should be glad, you make it easier for him to avoid you, but instead of relief, Haechan is faced with worry.

You’re not acting like you. Your usual confident and carelessness was replaced by whatever this is.

He curses in his head, before slamming his laptop close.

“Let’s take a break,” He says.

You shake your head, “We’re almost done,”

“I know, so we should take a break,”

“Haechan—“

“You look like you’re gonna shatter any second now, y/n. So let’s take a fucking break.” Haechan’s stern voice was a rare occurrence, but he needed to be assertive.

You gulped and finally take off your hands off the keyboard.

“Are you okay?” Haechan carefully asked, as to not make you uncomfortable.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,”

This time, your eyes glare at him. Haechan blinks, trying to hold a stare but he couldn’t. Your bloodshot eyes was trying to suck him in.

“Seungcheol… he’s not a bad guy.” You started off and immediately, Haechan didn’t like where you were going.

“Is he why you.. look like that?”

“I look like a what?”

“Like you’re on the verge of breaking down,”

“Haechan-ah… tell me. Are you happy?” In an innocent mind, this question seems simple. In Haechan’s mind, this felt loaded.

“S-sure..”

Is he really? Pff, no. He accepted the fact that he might not really be inlove with his girlfriend and dove into a committed relationship head first way too fast and now he’s on a position that might just ruin his new found reputation of being a good guy. So, yeah, no.

“I’m glad. Cuz I’m really not.. Seungcheol was my safe choice, but when he gets like this.. it’s not fun. So I decided to leave him, for good. But I realized that no one’s on my team now that he’s gone.” You sounded so off. Like you weren’t yourself. Haechan couldn’t bear it, so he looked away.

“I’m on your team,” He softly says, hopefully sounding less cringy.

“Really? Haechan-ah?” Okay, he really doesn’t like it when you call him Haechan. It sounds so.. unfamiliar.

“Yep. Me, Hayeon, and all your friends are here for you.” He didn’t like saying his girlfriend’s name whilst talking to you, but he knew he had to draw some kind of line. Just in case you get the wrong idea, or worse, he gets the wrong idea.

You let out an awkward laugh. He doesn’t understand which part of this you find funny at all.

“Right. Hayeonnie.” This time, it sounded like you hated her name. Like it didn’t need to be in the conversation.

“So.. promise me you’ll never go back to Seungcheol again, okay? He’s a bad guy,” He exaggerated a scolding tone just to lighten up the mood but it didn’t do much.

You just nodded– looking like you just wanted to end the conversation.

Thankfully, a notification from his phone breaks the dead silence. He used it as an excuse to escape.

[7:03pm] hayeon: I’m at my sisters, babe. Aren’t u going to Yang’s party tonight?

He sighs. Right, his loving girlfriend.

He can’t just leave you all alone, can he? Not when you’re in this state, not when you’re not okay.

This isn’t even about his problem with you anymore. Any decent human being wouldn’t leave a poor girl all alone when she clearly needs someone.

“Come with us to Yangyang’s party. Take your mind off of things.”

“I–”

“It’s either you go or I’ll drag you with us.”

There was another pause, silence filled with tension you could cut through with a knife. You didn’t say anything but sighed, basically confirming to Haechan that you’ll go.

You guess you needed a little distraction.

“I’ll be there.” You softly whisper. You closed your laptop, and stood up from the coffee table straight to your room.

As soon as the door clicks, Haechan catches his breath. He doesn’t realize he’s been holding it in everytime you look at him. Thank God you didn’t notice it.

This will do him good. It’ll clear his mind, and in no time, he’ll be back in his girlfriend’s arms. You’ll be busy with other people and you’ll be out of his sight. Yeah.

[8:56pm] hayeon: Can’t go to Yang’s tonight babe :( My sister needs me to help with something. See you tomorrow?

He was about to reply, when another message popped up in his phone.

[8:57pm] yangyang: u better come to my party !! bring ur gf or wtv.. make sure she brings y/n too haha

[8:57pm] haechan: im going, but hayeon cant go. y/n will be there.

[8:58pm] yangyang: fuck yeah dude i cant w8 to see her!!!

Why is Yangyang so obsessed with you? Didn’t you say you turned him down already? Well, knowing Yangyang, he does get a bit infatuated with someone that does so much as give him the time of day, but come on. You already said no to him, right?

Haechan reminds himself to reply to Hayeon, but his mind was somewhere else.

So he never did.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“It’s been so long seeing you without your girl, dude!” Yangyang excitedly put his arms around Haechan, almost choking the guy. In return, Haechan elbowed him slightly, just to get the guy off of him.

“You’re choking me, asshole.”

“Huh, could’ve sworn you’re a little bit into that.” Yangyang joked, earning a hefty hit from Haechan.

He kinda get Yangyang tho. It has been a while since he attended some party without Hayeon by his side, and honestly, it kinda brought back a vibe in him. Only this time, he needs to be careful.

The hushed whispers of girls upon seeing him alone was noticeable, some even saying that maybe Hayeon’s out of the picture. He needed to clear things up before everybody misunderstood.

“My girlfriend, Hayeon is at her family house. She’ll be with me tomorrow.” He says very loudly, for everybody to hear.

He doesn’t know why he felt the need to prove others wrong, but one things for sure. He’s not going to mold himself to the expectations of him not being able to keep one girl for a long time.

“Alright, man, no need to yell.” Shotaro popped in his right.

“Where have you been?” Yangyang asked.

“Y/n’s over at the hallway with Soohyun. I think she’s wasted, dude.”

Haechan’s ears perked with the mention of your name. You’re here earlier than him? And you’re already wasted?

So what? Not my responsibility. Haechan says to himself. He grabs one of the shots on the counter and downed it straight. Haeving, he goes and takes another.

“Slow down, stupid!” Jeno appears beside him, chuckling a bit.

He shakes his head. No, no, no, no, no.

“Are you okay?” Renjun asks, this time more seriously. He had never seen Haechan being in distress for long periods of time, and never this conflicted. He knew Haechan like the back of his hand.

“I’ll get over it.” Voice rasp, Haechan walks away from his friends.

He rings his girlfriend one time, only to be answered by a robotic voice telling him she’s busy. He tried it again, but the result was the same.

Every shot he encountered, he drank. He can’t really handle anything without being sober, let alone think about you while being sane. He’ll go crazy.

But then the when the alcohol hits, his thoughts got more even insane. Batshit. He can fucking hear your voice now.

Your screams, when you were fighting with Seungcheol.

Your moans, when he was pounding you to oblivion.

Your tears, when you yelled profanities.

And your fucking words that made Haechan cum that night. The same fucking words that he knew wasn’t meant for him, but he took it as if you whispered in his ear.

“Fuck!” He screams out of frustration. He felt disgusted with his own thoughts.

“Haechan?”

Man these walls must be talking ‘cuz he swear he just heard yo–

He turned around to see you, and he can’t pin what his exact feeling the moment your eyes met. He was relieved for a split second, then he suddenly felt tense because it was like he manifested you to appear in front of him.

“Y/n–”

“Look who decides to show up without his pet.” Another voice popped from behind you, however, he can’t think of anyone else but your flushed face.

“Didn’t you miss me, Haechannie? Come on, I know your girl doesn’t compare..” It was a drunk Gaeun, stumbling past you, managing to nudge your shoulders.

Her hands finds Haechan’s shoulders, putting her entire weight pulling him down to her level.

He was in panic mode. You were just standing there, visibly disturbed, rightfully so, as Haechan tried to push Gaeun away as respectfully as he can.

“Gaeun, pleas–”

“Are you fucking insane?” Your voice thundered as your hand pulled the drunk girl away from him. His eyes widened, feet frozen as he sees you drag the girl away from him.

“Get your hands off me! Haechan!” Gaeun screamed for him, but he can’t really do anything, he’s still, fascinated at the scene in front of him. Are you.. jealous?

But when he notice the moment escalates and you’re now dragging Gaeun by her hair, he jumped into action and gently tried to pull your wrist away. “Let go,”

Your sharp eyes turned to him, still in attack mode, but you took one deep breath and let go of her hair. A sobbing mess, Gaeun runs away from you.

“You’re really gonna let her be all over you like that? What if I wasn’t here?!”

“Y/n–”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you cheat on Hayeon with a bitch like her–”

“Then who else?”

His hands aren’t on the steering wheel anymore, and any control he had– he threw it all away.

“W-what?”

The game was over. Haechan forfeits, this isn’t something he can deny any longer.

Haechan, still holding your wrist, pulled you closer to his body.

“Who would you rather me cheat on her with?”

“Hae–”

“Nope. Wrong name. Come on, say it.” He completely turned off the switch. He basically slashed the throat of the angel that gives him the conscience he’s been holding on so tight, and grabbed the devil’s hands.

This was a risky game he was playing, you could totally call him out, and tell Hayeon right away, but the other side of the spectrum is way too good to even think of the risk. You could come to him and give him a taste of what he was craving for.

“You’re drunk–”

“Were you drunk those nights when you’d stare at me when I visit Hayeon? Were you drunk when you pretend you didn’t find me hot? Or were you drunk when you moan extra louder whenever I’m around while being fucked by your boy-toy? Huh?” You couldn’t even recognize his voice at this point. He sounds so… out of it.

“That’s–”

“Being drunk has nothing to do with this, y/n. I’m gonna ask you again, you can just turn around and pretend nothing happened, and we’re just both drunk to think straight. But tell me, y/n, the truth. Didn’t you at least think about what it’s like? To be fucked properly?”

Think about it? Fuck that. You fantasized about it. Day and night. Haechan plagued your mind twenty-five-eight, and the fact that he’s inside your friend’s room instead of yours.

So yeah, you did more than thinking about it.

“This is bad..” You whimpered, lips a paperthin away from each other.

“You make me do bad things, very, very bad things. But then again, I’m not a stranger to being the bad guy.”

And just as Haechan lets the last word fall from his pretty lips, you took the bait. You shook the devil’s hand and kissed him. And from then on, you know there’s no going back.

Haechan pulled you by the waist, and your hand grips his neck to deepen the kiss. As your tongues danced to a perfect rhythm, you feel his other hand take the back of your left thigh, urging you to wrap them in his waist, signalling you to let him carry you. Which you did, you were always a good listener.

It’s crazy. You feel everything, all at once and it was so overwhelming but it felt right. Which is such a fucking lie because everything about this is wrong. It’s so wrong, but fuck it, it felt so right.

Carrying you by your ass, Haechan managed to walk inside one of the rooms, and because you’re so hyper focused on touch and what his lips are doing, you didn’t even realize that you’re already in a bed, ‘til you felt a soft texture on your back.

Haechan pulled away, and takes a second to look at you from above, “Fuck, you’re so pretty. You’ve always been prettier,”

It sounded so bad, yet so good in your ears. You can’t believe you’re hearing this from a boy who’s just a month ago, drooling over your friend.

“Shut up before we come back to our senses and realize how fucked up this is,” You murmured.

“Why do you gotta spoil the mood, baby?” He whines but still kissed you again, letting his hands roam free across your body.

His fingers stealthily pulled the hem of your shirt, letting his bare hands come in contact with your stomach which you respond with a shudder.

“Hmm, my baby’s ticklish.” He chuckled as if he just unlocked a new discovery.

He continued kissing you on your neck, you assume its to distract you from his hand slowly creeping up your bra. Which he does a bad job at because you can feel everything he’s doing. And once he came in contact with your nipple, you let out a proper moan.

“God, you even sound pretty.” You supposed you already expected him to be a talker in bed, but nobody prepared you on how good he can be at it.

“Can I take this off?” He looks at you as he tugs your shirt.

“Please,”

He smirks, “Let’s just.. take everything off, hmm?”

You eagerly nodded. You keep on thinking excuses in your head, that in some fucked up way, this is okay. That this was fine. That this is how it should be.

Before you know it, you were naked in front of him, You’re naked in front of your friend’s boyfriend.

Haechan used his arms to lift himself up, looking at your body with lust dripping from his iris, jaws slightly ajar. “Fuck.”

Not long before his hands continued roaming around your body and it felt like every single touch burned, but you loved every single sensation that came with it.

“This is bad…” You whisper, but your hands pull him closer.

“So bad,” He says, grinding his clothed member on your core, and even if the rough denim felt uncomfortable, it doesn’t compare to the pleasure that it gave you.

You see his other hand struggle to open his pants and pull ‘em down. You help him with his shirt which he gladly removed, and when you’re both exposed, that’s when he finally puts his hand to good use.

You moan at the initial contact of his fingers onto your folds. He used his free hand to get the hair out of your face, just to see every single reaction you gave him.

He deepens the contact, until you feel his long fingers sink in and thats when you curse. It felt fucking good. “Hae..chan,”

“Uh-huh,” He encourages.

His fingers went in and out, gradually going faster, and you couldn’t help but whimper. You grab his wrist when you felt like cummin, because you can’t believe he managed to make you feel this way, this quickly.

“Your hands,” He warned, so you let go. This authoritative voice he has made you feel some type of way.

He continued to move, like he knew you were in the verge. “Look at me when you cum,” He says, this time with a much softer approach.

But it was hard to open your eyes– especially when you started to feel euphoric. However, Haechan wasn’t gonna take it. He grabbed your face, forcefully making you look at him. “Open your fucking eyes, or else I’m gonna stop.”

“No, p-please.” You shake your head.

“Then look at me,” He says.

And then, you exploded. A moaning mess, you try to stop your legs from shaking but it proved to be ineffective, as they still shook from the sensation you just felt. It was different– everything felt different with him.

“Good girl,” He almost growls, “Good fucking girl,”

You were catching your breath, recovering from the mess you made. Haechan was something else. You’ve had orgasm before, but this was the first time it felt so real.

“Can I fuck you?”

There’s a shift in his voice, almost confusing you why he sounded so… whiny. You bit your lip as you look up at him and you nod.

He whispered a soft okay, guiding you to sit up. Thats when you realize he’s also naked and fuck, of course he has to be hung. There’s more to his face— that’s why girls go fucking coocoo for this man.

He sits up by the head board as he pumps his own cock in front of you, while he looks at you lustfully, as if he’s seeing his fantasy come to life. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

You crawl your way to him, eyes can’t help but stare at his hand desperately jerking himself off. You tap it away and he knew by then what you were trying to do. His hands instinctively go to the back of your head. He looks down at you by the tilt of his head as his jaw hangs low.

Your hand replaces his, and Haechan knew– he’s fucked. The flick of your wrist felt so good.

And then, you try and give him a tiny lick, and he could’ve sworn he almost came there and then. But he’s not a pussy– oh no, if he’s gonna come, it has to be from fucking you.

“Oh, fuck, y/n,” he moans when you finally suck him fully, gripping the remainder of his base where you can’t go even more lower. Your name falls way too familiar from his lips.

Not even a full minute of you sucking him off, he pulls you by the hair. “Need to fuck you now or I’ll come,”

“Okay,” You whisper, waiting for him to guide you what to do next.

“Ride me, baby.”

You spread your legs and straddle him. You grab his cock and line him up to your core and slowly sinks in. Both of you gasp, you from the stretch, him from the grip you had on him. It felt so right– so perfect.

“You’re made for me,” He says more to himself than you.

You gain momentum, finding a rhythm that works with the both of you. Every time you sunk down, Haechan lets out a whine– then a praise after. His words, if you’re being honest, is what kept you going besides, of course, the feeling of him being inside you.

“Baby, my god,”

“Yes,” You almost growl when you felt that you’re coming undone, again, the twist in your stomach slowly getting more intense.

“Y/n, baby, do I make you feel good?” There he goes again with his whiny voice.

“Yes,” You breathe out.

“You fuck me so good,” He moans, eyes rolling backwards. He looks so scrumptious, and you just want to ruin him.

His eyes started burning through yours, you don’t even see him blinking. Haechan does not want to miss anything on your face as he fucks you. He wants to remember every single second.

“Shit, shit,” He curses, wrapping his arm on your waist, forcing you to fall onto his chest before planting both his feet on the mattress to fuck up into you.

A high pitch moan came out of you, and you couldn’t believe you could even make that noise. Haechan takes it out of you.

“You make me– fuck, please, please– y/n,” He’s blurting out words, burying his head on your neck. You grab the headboard to balance yourself because it felt like you’re gonna fly out of the bed with the way he’s pounding onto you.

“Say my name,” He groans.

“Haecha–”

“No– Donghyuck. My name’s Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck, please, cum in me.”

And just like a command, or a magic word, he stilled in you and you felt warm ropes painting your insides as he let out the sluttiest moan you’ve every heard from a man.

“F-fuck,”

You were shaking, but so is he.

“You’ll fucking kill me, y/n.”

Only you, him and the faint music outside these four walls are the only distraction you have as you laid beside him. And then it hit you.

“We just… fucked,”

Haechan— no, scratch that, Donghyuck, let out a snort. “Yeah we did.”

“That’s really bad,”

“It is,”

You sit up, starting to grab your clothes one by one.

After-dick clarity starts to sink in and the pleasure from before was replaced with a crashing wave of guilt.

“This is a mistake, Donghyuck.”

He brushes his hands across his face as he tried to get a hold of your wrist, to stop you.

“Then let’s keep making mistakes,” His voice was sultry. A note lower than what he usually sounds. Like when he was fuck—

No. Hayeon. Haechan and Hayeon. Fuck.

“Big ones,” He continued. You pull your hands away from him and as soon as you dressed up properly, you look at him one last time.

Half naked, he bites his lip as he matches your eyes.

“This will never happen again.” Was the last thing that you say, before slamming the door in front of his face.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Donghyuck—”

“Hmm, yeah? Feel so good, huh?”

You look at the mirror as Donghyuck pounds into you in oblivion.

Like a starved man, he locks both your arms around you back, with his hand, while his other hand is busy putting a joint in between his lips.

He hits a long drag, but not letting it affect the way he fucks into you. He’s still in so deep, and it felt euphoric. He looks at you at the mirror and smirks.

“My baby wants a hit?”

You nod, desperately at that, and he then bends over, letting his refined chest hit your back. Instantly, you felt a cool sensation from his dog-tag, but every inch of his skin was warm. Hot.

He puts the joint in between your lips, letting you drag a long one before licking the back of your ears.

“Told you it’ll double the fun when we’re high,” He whispers.

“Love it, Hyuckie, love it so much–”

“Love fucking you too, my y/n. So fucking much.”

You, also as if starving, ate all your words.

Because when you said you’ll never mess around with him, you still found him eight inches deep inside you the next week.

It happened again, and again, and again.

You know this will blow up in your face eventually– but you can’t help it when Donghyuck gives you everything you wanted. He fucks you like he owns you, like you’re the only person in his world.

And despite how many times you convince yourself that you’re a strong willed person, Donghyuck just knows how to get you. One smile, one look, and you’re on your knees for him. Your name just falls off of his lips way too smoothly, melting you into a puddle each time.

But everytime he walks out the door, an immediate wave of guilt washed over you. You hate that you can’t call him yours, even when he makes you feel like you’re his.

He was your own brand of ecstasy, taking you to places you didn’t even know existed, and even though you knew it was all in your head, pretending like it’s real for a moment, felt so addicting.

You knew not to be attached, but you also knew going into this that you’re basically setting yourself up. A suicide mission.

It doesn’t matter how perfect it felt to be with him. Give yourself an hour and you’re back to being the other woman. Because at the end of the day, you know, he’s going back to her.

“You okay, pretty?” He kisses your shoulder blade as you sat in his bed.

“Yeah,” You silently say, smiling. Hiding the fact that when he closes his eyes, you prayed he never sees her.

Because God knows that you do.

He sighs, as if he knows what you were thinking about. Of course, the elephant in the room takes up the entire space. He can’t pretend that what’s happening is normal.

“I’ll tell her soon, okay? I’ll take all the blame– just, give me time, I promise.” He gently caresses your hair.

“Hmm, okay.” Your soft smiles is why he kept coming back. You’re the most prettiest person he’d ever had, and he knows it doesn’t mean much when it comes from him, but he swears he’d never seen anyone prettier.

He just wished he had seen you first.

You don’t know when the drunken mistakes and reckless escapes turn into so much more, but you knew you were falling. Damn you for falling easily. Damn your heart for being so clumsy.

Meanwhile, Haechan knew he was in deep shit.

“Look, dude, I know I don’t usually compliment you and shit, but I’m actually proud of you for being in a relationship this long, man.” Jeno says, sincerely at that.

He liked the compliments, and this new image he had managed to create. Like he’s a great guy, like he’s finally maturing. He likes that people finally likes him, in a light he’s never been on before. But then, you just had to happen.

And Haechan just happens to like you. A lot. And now that he’s got a taste of you, he’s afraid he can’t ever get enough.

It’s so bad to the point that instead of stopping whatever is going on between you two, he’s thinking of ways how to keep you, without incriminating you. Because he’s aware that when this all blows up, it’ll be bad, not only for him, but to you too.

“Are you okay, baby?” Hayeon’s touch started to burn, it started to feel unfamiliar. And he knows he’s being a fucking douchebag, but he can’t lie to himself.

“Y-yeah, uh, Shotaro wants me to come with him to the gym.” He says some pathetic excuse to get away from her. Mostly from the guilt, that’s eating him alive.

Hayeon nods, but a glint of suspicion in her eyes lingers.

“I saw Shotaro studying at the library that day. I asked him if he was with Haechan, but he said he’d never seen him.”

That was the first time you felt the world started to shrink on you.

She was crying on your shoulder, all you could do was hold her. But your hand stung, from the blade you were willing on her back.

You weren’t always nice, but never have you imagined you could do this to her. Hayeon was your friend.

And it’s not like you didn’t avoid Donghyuck, because God knows, that you really tried to.

It was another usual Friday, where Soohyun, a senior, throws a party. It was a big deal, with him graduating this semester. He had invited you personally, and it would be strange for you to turn it down because you had never turn booze down.

But you knew he was gonna be there.

You had ignored his calls and text from last week, avoiding every instances that you might come across the Devil himself.

But hey, Soohyun’s house is big. You could probably go for a couple of hours without crossing paths with Dong— Haechan, right?

Wrong.

Because here he is, sitting across you with his hands wrapped around his girlfriend. Hayeon came in– as if a few days ago, she didn’t cry all night because of him.

They look so inlove. It was disgusting.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Soohyun popped beside you. He scootches impossibly closer, putting his arms around you.

“You’re leaving in three months, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” You say, very casually, that it almost sounded fake. Not that it isn’t, but whatever.

Soohyun continued his advances, and you just let him. It at least helped you– although very annoying, still, you’d rather have him than be stuck looking at him with her.

Soohyun is an attractive man. He’s very muscle-y yet slim, fair skin and sharp eyes. He’s one of the guys who you can’t deny that he’s certainly a catch. He’s very tall too, so, yeah, not bad at all.

Unlike someone, who’s very different from Soohyun. Sunkissed, plump lips, soft yet toned body, and tall enough where his lips meets your forehead perfectly. Voluptuous ass, cunty little waist, and most important of it all, big fucking di–

“Soohyun-ah, get up in here!” A loud voice from the main hall called out.

“Gotta greet the boys real quick, sweetheart. If you want something– help yourself at my kitchen, okay?” Soohyun pecks at your cheek. You smiled and nodded at him and watched him walk away.

Unfortunately, your eyes doesn't have anything else to look at but him. Surprisingly, he was already looking at you. However, it wasn’t the usual sweet look he gives you. He looks pissed as he grips the can of beer.

His hand wasn’t on Hayeon anymore. He was leaning back as he eyes you from across the room. Thankfully, Hayeon was busy giggling at somebody else’s joke.

You raise your left brow at him and mouthed, “What?”

He smirks, but it’s nowhere near being enthusiastic, before he pokes his tongue on his cheeks as he shakes his head.

You just roll your eyes at him and before you could even melt from all the attention he’s giving to you, you decided to escape to the kitchen for an ounce of peace.

However, you’ve only enjoyed not even a minute of peace when you feel a presence behind you. You grunt.

“So, you’re with Soohyun now, huh?” Haechan says in his deep voice.

“Not your business,”

He let out a chuckle in disbelief, “When does it become my business? When I’m fucking you from behind?”

Your eyes widen at his sudden burst, as if you two aren’t in the same vicinity of his fucking girlfriend.

“Are you insane?! Hayeon’s right there!”

“You make me insane! You were all over that fucking assface– in front of me. When you know damn well that I–” He manages to stop himself. Haechan bit his lip, before taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“What, Haechan? What were you gonna say?” Your eyes started to burn, but no tears yet. Not yet.

He sniffs, shaking his head and let it fall down as if to hide his eyes. “You weren’t… reading my texts, you weren’t.. answering my fucking calls. I tried following you through your classes but you’re just too fucking good in pretending that I don’t exist. I’m.. going crazy, y/n.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes and ears. His voice is shaking and he won’t look you in the eye. Is he.. crying?

“Please, don’t go with Soohyun. Please don’t sleep with him, don’t kiss him or do anything with him. I’m begging you– because I don’t think I can handle it.” He whispers, but you’ve heard everything. The frustration and sadness in his voice made it impossible for you to not hear it.

“This isn’t fair– Haecha—”

“That’s not my name, not to you.” His strict tone went back for a bit.

“Donghyuck, you’re being really unfair. I get to sit in front of you and her looking so disgustingly inlove but the second another man shows interest in me you start this shit? That’s so fucking mean.” You wanted to shout at him, to yell at him but you knew better. A party doesn’t seem to be a good place to announce you’re fucking your friend’s boyfriend.

“I know, baby, trust me I feel so fucking horrible but I won’t lie to you. Ever since that night, you’re all I think about. No, fuck that, ever since the first time I laid eyes on you I knew I made a mistake. And fuck me for denying it but I can’t lie to myself now. I wanted to end it with her–”

“You want to end it? Okay. I’ll help you,” You stare at him blankly, not even sure if what you’re about to do is the right thing. You’re beyond being reasonable right now. You can see the confusion behind his eyes, followed by shock when you shouted.

“Hayeon-ah!” You call out her name.

Haechan was terrified and panicked at the same time. Your stunt poured a bucket of ice all over him, leaving him frozen on the spot.

Not even a full thirty seconds when Hayeon showed up, completely unaware of the conversation that had just occured.

“What? Why?” her tone was unassuming, despite the painfully obvious tension that filled the room.

“Donghyuck here, wants to tell you something.” You say, once again blankly. You couldn’t show any emotions because you don’t even know what to feel in the first place.

“Donghyuck? Who’s that?”

You look at her in slight incredulousness, but now’s not the time to be baffled by that.

“Haechan, I meant. He wants to tell you something,”

He was standing there, frozen in shock as he looks at you, then to his clueless girlfriend, waiting for whatever he’s gonna say. He swore his heart beats out of his chest. Like the room started to spin and the oxygen’s suddenly not fit for the three of you.

His hands are shaking, weighing the situation that’s unfolding in front of him. Once the very confident and sure of himself Lee Haechan was standing here like a beaten puppy, couldn’t even form a proper fucking sentence.

“I-I..”

He gulps, before glancing at you one last time, “We need to go, Hayeon-ah.” He grabs her wrist and before you knew it, he’s already gone.

You don’t know why you would even expect anything. You knew he wouldn’t, you knew he treasured her still despite how many times he crawls back to you. You knew he’d never pick you, but damn, it still hurt like a motherfucker.

You knew you were in the wrong side, and deep inside you, you’re calmed by the fact that there’s two of you on the that side, but then, you were left alone wallowing in the dark. Like you always were.

To be second to her, again, you thought was the most hurtful thing you could ever feel.

But to not be chosen by him, felt way worse.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Haechan didn’t even know why he didn’t just tell Hayeon right there and then.

Was he afraid of being judged? Come on, he’d been judged his entire life! Looks from people never bothered him, in fact, it exhilarated him.

He’s sure he wants you, no one else but you, so what’s the deal?

He thinks once again, that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want you to suffer from being judged. He knew that if the truth was revealed in front of people from the campus, they’d crucify you more than him. That’s the sad reality.

He’s all to blame, yes, maybe you too, but most of it is his fault. If only he’d wait a little longer to see you first before Hayeon, if only he’d ended his shallow relationship with her right after he saw you.

If only he could see himself from a different perspective, he’d definitely slap himself across the face.

He never thought he’d scoop so low, to cheat on a girl– but it’s you. Fuck everything if it’s you he’d get after all of this.

“Are you okay?”

Of course, whenever he’s in a rough situation, Renjun just coincidentally pops out of nowhere.

“No dude, I’m really not.” There’s no use at pretending he’s the big bad Lee Haechan around Renjun. He knows him in and out.

“Is it about y/n?”

That, he didn’t know that Renjun knows.

“How’d you..”

“Saw her running out of the apartment one time.” Renjun smiles as he thinks of that one time he caught you. You never saw him tho, he was standing still in the dark kitchen stirring his coffee.

“I fucked up, man.” Haechan lets himself loose, voice breaking as he covers his face with both of his palms.

“You did, you really did. I always knew you were a..” Renjun debates if he could use the term knowing his friend’s state of mind, “… player but I never thought you would actually cheat. You hate cheaters, man, we all do.”

“Look, you need to come clean this shit up. Own up to your bullshit– tell Hayeon. She deserves to know.”

Renjun was right. He can’t keep on hurting the poor girl, and the longer he waits, the more painful it would be for Hayeon, thus, affecting you more.

He’s just scared that after all this, he still couldn’t get you. He’s afraid that he’ll lose everything.

“Hayeon-ah..” He calls for her name as soon as he enters her apartment. He knew you wouldn’t be here.

He found Hayeon on her bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. When her eyes found his, she quickly jumps out to greet him.

“Hi baby! I found a new movie we could wa–”

“We need to talk.”

Her expression falls rapidly, visibly confused as to why Haechan suddenly sounded serious.

“W-what’s happening?” She asks.

Haechan knew there was no stepping away from this. He needed to do this, not only for you, but for him, and her aswell.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[11:28pm] haechan: i’ll talk to her

[11:28pm] haechan: i’ll end it

[11:29pm] haechan: please wait for me

You hate to admit it, but there was a glint of hope in your chest when you read the text. You knew not to expect anything, especially after what happened last time. But this was different. He ignites the familiar spark in your system.

However, those texts was three days ago.

Three days, you have not received any other message from him. Not a text, not a call, not a fucking letter from a fucking pigeon. Nothing. Silence.

You started making paragraphs in your head– you were overthinking every little thing. Hayeon had not messaged you either, there was totally no some sort of retaliation you were expecting from her. Did he really say it? Did he confess? He did, didn’t he?

“You don’t look good,”

Jurin has came and visited you from Sacred Heart, slightly concerned about your lack of enthusiasm in your texts. From her words, you seemed ‘not you’.

“Hayeon hasn’t yelled at me yet. She manages to get out the apartment before I even wake up. Or I don’t know– maybe she’s sleeping at his place.”

It makes no sense. There should be some sort of confrontation because you fucking slept with her boyfriend. You’d rather that than nothing, because it’s driving you insane.

“Haechan’s MIA too?” Jurin asked which you just nodded to.

She sighed, and you knew what she was gonna say next. “I told you this isn’t a good idea,” She says as she sips on her coffee.

“I didn’t say it was. I just hoped– you know, he’d fucking call me.”

“You know you sound insane, right? You’re the side chick here, you don’t make demands. You don’t have the right.”

The last sentence hit you hard. Jurin was right, you sound pathetic. You need to remind yourself that you’re the other person. You were the parasite that ruined a relationship. But hey, it takes two to tango, right?

But as the old saying goes, Be careful what you wish for.

Because that same day, all your questions was answered.

The nights you spent restless, was all worth nothing. Because you just saw him, with her. They’re walking hand in hand, as if nothing ever happened.

You almost lost the grip of your bag as you watched them walk away. Hand in hand. Hand in fucking hand, still.

“You okay?” You hear one of your friends from class asks you. That’s when you realized that there were tears forming on your eyes so you quickly wipe them away.

But you swore, that even before you look away from them, you saw Hayeon look at you with a smirk, before turning away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

@hayeonssi__: some ppl never change. once a slut, will always be a slut. :D good morning everyone!

comments (45) likes (106)

@kk_nara: is this who i think this is lolll

@the.minho.won: she should be embarrassed haha dude thats so trashhhh

@kimsana: oh it’s definitely that bitch LOL

Read (42) more

That was the first shot out of the many ones she threw at your direction. This just proves that Haechan did confess– but for some unknown reason, they’re still together.

You recognize those usernames, of course you did. They were Hayeon’s friends from Sacred Heart, the same ones you had before. They didn’t need to mention your name– you already knew they were pertaining to you.

Surely, the gossip was already spread around at Sacred. Hayeon’s influence over there is still huge. If she was popular over here at NCU, then she’s a fucking celebrity back at Sacred Heart.

So, yeah, you’re probably in some groupchat by now.

You chuckle in irony. For a person that hates to be in the limelight, you sure have a weird way to stay out of it.

And then, like a plague, it started.

People on the hallways started looking at you weird, like you were naked. Like you’re being escorted at a fucking execution. You thought they probably had suspicions. Actually, no, it wasn’t a suspicion, it was a fact. You slept with someone else’s boyfriend. You out of all people in here deserved the judgemental eyes that’s following you right now.

“Is it true?” Yangyang once cornered you at the emergency staircase.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what you heard,” You say truthfully.

“You slept with Haechan? Your roommate’s boyfriend?”

That’s the confirmation you needed. It’s out in the open. Sometimes it amazes you how words spreads like a wildfire.

You just look at Yangyang blankly, as if to answer his question with your mere silence. You assume he’s smart enough to tell what you meant.

“W-why would you..”

“Yangyang, please, save me the fucking lecture because I already had one a couple minutes ago from class. You were there, remember?”

Yangyang stood there, dumbfounded by how you chose to not take these things seriously.

“You do know that Haechan has a fucking harem that would eat you alive, right? Like dude, I know most of this is that asshole’s fault but they’re gonna blame it out on you!”

You find it endearing how he shows care for you— if you’re being honest you thought Yangyang would be like the others, but you thought wrong.

“What would you suggest I do, then? Stop attending classes and hide out like a little bitch? No, Yangyang. I’ll take what’s coming from me. I know what I did,” You walk away from him, but not before you paused.

“And tell your friend that I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s a fucking pussy.”

And with that, you left. You barely even scratched the surface of the avalanche that was coming for you in the next days.

People never seemed to care that there was the two of you that did it. You’ve never head of anyone curse at Haechan— they’re all pointing at you.

Why would they? When Haechan and Hayeon seemed to be going strong. You were just a pathetic attempt at trying to tear them apart, then failing miserably.

Hurtful words thrown at you, left and right. A homewrecker, a slut, and backstabber were in your mind almost every time you went out in the hallways.

It stung, sure. But it got to a point where you let it hurt until you can’t feel anything anymore.

One thing’s clear. Haechan left you to fend for yourself.

And then, couple of days later, it suddenly got quiet.

All the shushed gossip around you was gone, all the whispers that followed you dissipates. It was so abrupt. Like everybody started to mind their own business. Miraculously.

Apparently, out of all the people you least expected to help you out, Seungcheol had something to do with it.

@iamcseungcheol: @hayeonssi__ @haechanahceah tell your fans to chill out before i bust in your shitass school and do it myself

comments (156) likes (564)

You didn’t want it to be him to defend you. You wished that it wasn’t his username you were reading and you hoped that Seungcheol could always remain the person who hurt you. Not the one to save you in the midst of the chaos that seemed to target you.

You didn’t want to feel the gratitude towards the one person you swore you will never associate with ever again.

Nevertheless, it was still him. In some wicked way of fate, no matter how horrible he is, he’s always been by your side. No matter what.

And perhaps, that’s how life goes. Nevermind the fact that you fell inlove with someone else.

You should always choose whoever chooses you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“How’d she look?”

Haechan frantically followed Renjun around the apartment waiting for an answer.

“What did you expect? Of course she doesn’t look okay!” Renjun says, while taking off his coat and throwing it at the couch.

“Fuck, should I call Taeyong-hyung again?” Haechan sat beside Jaemin, biting his lips. Meanwhile, Jeno on the other side just looked at Haechan, slightly concerned.

“When did you last sleep, dude?” Jeno was staring at his friend’s eyes, the dark circles under them multiplying each day.

Haechan just shakes his head, avoiding Jeno’s question. He’s got more in his plate right now and he doesn’t need to be bothered about anything else. His only concern is about you.

He combs his hair out with his fingers in frustration. “I’m gonna call Taeyong-hyung.” He decides, standing up to grab his phone. He was about to take a step before Jaemin pulled him by his wrist and made him sit down beside him again.

“You’ve been calling them non-stop since Friday. Taeyong-hyung said he’d do something about it but it doesn’t mean it’s gonna be as quick as you want it to be. Haechan-ah, word travels quick and you can’t control each and everyone who attends this campus.” Jaemin says seriously.

“I know but that’s why I called Taeyong-hyung. He controls this school, doesn’t he? What the fuck is he waiting for–”

“Not to the point where he could shut every student up overnight. Dude, you gotta calm down–” Jeno’s small intervention speech was cut off when Haechan turns to him coldly.

“She’s fucking on her own, man. Hayeon despises her, the entire school turns on her and she can’t even— even defend herself. Y/n quite literally has nobody right now,” Haechan‘s voice was trembling. “--and you’re telling me to calm the fuck down?”

Jeno didn’t like his harsh tone. He furrows his brows at Haechan as he stood up to level with him. “And why is that, genius? Because you fucking decided to be an horny asshole and fuck your girlfriend’s bestfriend.”

Haechan snaps and shoves Jeno aggressively. This marks the first time Haechan has physically tried to start a fight with one of his bestfriends. As a natural reaction, Renjun and Jaemin was alarmed.

Jaemin was the closest one between the two, so he quickly goes in between them.

“Jesus fucking– what’s happening!” Renjun yells.

“I know I fucked up– that’s why I’m doing everything I can to protect y/n from all of this. That’s why I’m going fucking crazy trying to shut everybody up. So, yeah, Jeno. I know where I went wrong. Fuck you.” Haechan spits with a tightened jaw and clenched fists.

“And this is the first fucking thing you think of?” Jeno answers, still being blocked by Jaemin.

“What else can I do, dipshit?!” Haechan yells back with Renjun on his side.

“Oh, I don’t know– break up with that fucking girlfriend of yours and protect y/n yourself, dumbass!”

“You think I haven’t tried?!”

The room went silent. The three men didn’t know what to say and the only noise that surrounds the room was the heavy breathing from Haechan.

He looks up, stretching his neck as he remembers the night when he tried to end things with Hayeon.

⋆

“I know.”

That was the first thing Haechan hears when he brought Hayeon back to her apartment.

He was caught offguard, of course. Because he knew what Hayeon meant. There was no other meaning of why she would say that without any context.

However, he wanted to make sure. “W-what do you mean?”

The left corner of Hayeon’s lip rises, her eyes remained blank. “You’ve been fucking with Y/n behind my back, weren’t you?”

Haechan was tense, in a closed off stance. He avoided her eyes, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. He didn’t say anything, and that already says everything.

“I expected this from her, you know, being who she is. But you, Haechan.. I thought you changed?” Hayeon’s voice trembled, as the first sign of emotion she showed.

“Look, Hayeon–”

“You wanted me, Haechan. Don’t you remember? You did everything to get me and now that I’m yours this is how you treat me? I should’ve never introduced you to that witch.” Her voice was rightfully harsh. But it still rang in Haechan’s ear– the insults she threw at you.

“It was entirely my fault, Hayeon. I went up to her–”

“Oh come on. She’s an expert at this, Haechan. You’ve known her for months, I knew her for years. I know what she’s capable of. That’s why I never trusted her being around you. And you know what’s annoying? You took the fucking bitch’s bait.” Hayeon wiped her eyes, even though no tears had fallen yet.

“I’m trying to make this all right and end it here–”

Hayeon slaps Haechan across the face. Haechan’s eyes are wide, and he almost curses because of the pain but he reminds himself that he deserves this.

“End it? Are you fucking kidding me? You think I’ll let you go and run over to that slut’s arms? After you fucking screwed me over?!” Hayeon yells, no, screams so loud that her voice starts to strain.

Haechan was speechless. He doesn’t know what to do– Hayeon is unconsolable. But he can’t just leave without doing anything. He remembers the texts he sent you. You’re expecting him to end it tonight with Hayeon.

Slowly, with his eyes shaking, he knelt down– one knee at a time. Hayeon gasps in disbelief as she watched him sink down.

“I’m sorry. I know this fuck ass apology won’t cut it but we both know this relationship is bound to end. And we need to end it tonight, Hayeon-ah. I’ll apologize over and over again, please, don’t make this harder for the both of us,” He begged.

If this moment was captured by some sort of camera, it’ll be legendary among the entire campus. Lee Haechan, the so-called heartbreaker, on his knees in front of a girl. Unbelievable.

Hayeon didn’t answer, but she did freeze upon looking at him. And then, half a minute has passed, before she opens her mouth again.

“She really had you fooled, huh? What makes you think she wouldn’t make the same fucking thing to you? She’s a slut, Haechan! She’ll never stick to one guy!” She says through her gritted teeth.

Funny, everybody used to say the same damn thing about him.

“That’ll suck, but what can I do? I love her,” Haechan says in defeat, shoulders slumps and his breathing turned shallow.

Another slap landed on his cheek, and he just accepted it. Another, after another, until Hayeon sank down in exhaustion. Now they’re both in their knees.

“What about me, Haechan-ah? I love you,”

And slowly, she rolls up her sleeves to show what Haechan never expected to see.

“H-hayeon..”

She smiled, “Don’t you feel sorry? You did this to me, Haechan.”

He blinks rapidly, eyes stuck at the bandages on her wrist. “P-please, Hayeon.. not over me. Don’t.. don’t do this,”

“If you break up with me, it’ll be worst.”

⋆

Haechan doesn’t remember the last time he smiled. Genuinely.

He used to be on top of the world. Nothing stopped Haechan from being unapologetically him. Cruising through his life with nothing to worry about.

Now, he just felt.. empty. All the excitement and adrenaline that fuels his system was drained, and the carefree attitude he lived with was all sucked out of his soul.

Maybe this was the karma they were talking about? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn’t have the energy to care.

The aggressive knocking on the bathroom door was getting louder, loud enough to surpass the booming bass from the music outside.

“What the fuck’s taking so long?!” He hears a random man outside.

He assumes the line to the bathroom is getting longer, but all he cares about is the lines he was doing inside. It felt freaking awesome.

Straightening his back, he sniffs to get all of it in his system. He then rubbed his nose out of the excess before shouting back. “Fuck you!”

The sudden rush gets to him, and he closes his eyes to let it sink in. Jaws slacking, he takes one deep breath. He looks at the mirror.

The person staring back at him seems familiar, but can’t tell who it is. Is it him? Is this how the great Lee Haechan looks now?

“Woah, you’re handsome,” He says to his own reflection.

If only he was sober, he’ll recognize everything that had changed. The expressive eyes he boasts on and on about before are now empty, and the smile he used to wear everyday are non-existent.

This isn’t Lee Haechan, fuck it, this isn’t even Lee Donghyuck. Standing in front of him is a man that’s gave up on everything.

The room started to spin, and only then Haechan knew he had taken too much.

All of a sudden, a loud bang depicts the door being forced open. He turns to see his friend, Jeno, heaving as he quite literally kicked the door open, followed by Jaemin and Renjun’s worried faces.

“Oh? Hello,” Haechan chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. Did Jeno really kicked the door open?

What he also doesn’t realize is he’s now slumped on the bathroom floor, leaning at the bathtub. Weird, he didn’t remember falling down.

And then he hears it. Her voice. That fucking voice that haunts him.

“Haechan! What the hell!” She squeals as she pushes his friends away.

“Of course you’d be here,” He grunts.

Haechan tries to stand but failed, ending up on the same position as he was seconds ago. Renjun helps him up but Hayeon pushes his hands away. “I’ll take care of my boyfriend,” She hisses at him.

Haechan frowns at this and looks at her. “Don’t touch Renjun like that,” He slurs his words but its clear enough for Hayeon to roll her eyes.

“You can’t carry him home, Hayeon. We’ll take care of him.” Jaemin interferes. Hayeon thought for a second and she hates to agree with them, but they’re right. She’ll make a fool of herself if she thinks she can carry a grown ass man.

Jaemin and Jeno takes each of Haechan’s arms as they carried him off the ground. Haechan roams his eyes for a bit when it landed on Hayeon’s wrist.

Weird, the bandages are off. They fought over it just this morning, how come there’s no marks on it now?

He shakes his head off, before he turns to Renjun. “Injunnie, are you hurt?” He asks sweetly and his friend just patted him as Renjun sighs and follows them out.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Are you really gonna follow me around?” Haechan asks Jaemin as he watches his friend scroll on his phone while he walks on the hallway to his class.

“Cut the pissy attitude, I have better things to do than this, but after the shit you pulled last night, you pissed Renjun off so we gotta take turns in babysitting your dumbass.” Jaemin casually says, eyes still on the phone.

“Renjun can kiss my ass,”

“I can kiss your what, now?”

Haechan turned around to see Renjun standing with one brow lifted and his arms crossed. “Oh shit, when did you get here?”

“Shut up,” Renjun turns to Jaemin, “Jaemin-ah, Jeno says you two had a schedule at the gym.”

“Right,” Jaemin’s eyes widened, swiftly turning around and skedaddled away. Leaving Haechan and Renjun.

“Honestly, Injunnie, I can handle myself,”

Renjun looks at him as if Haechan was spitting nonsense, “So you passing out at some random party’s bathroom after doing lines, is you handling yourself?”

“I didn’t know I worry you this much, you really do love me, huh?” Haechan pokes Renjun’s sides as they walked, Renjun responding with a punch on his shoulder.

They continued play fighting until they turned a corner and hears the school’s counselor. “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re not done talking,”

The door opens and Haechan stood frozen. His breath hitches when you walk out of the office, covered with an oversized hoodie. His jaw slackens as he eyed you, this was the first time he saw you after that night at Soohyun’s party.

It felt like his blood ran cold, but his entire body started to warm up. He couldn’t do anything but stand there and see it unfold.

“Sucks to be you, because I’m done talking,” You say in a raspy voice.

Even from afar, Haechan could see your red eyes and pale lips. He also got a glimpse of sweat beads forming on your forehead. Initially, Haechan jumps to conclusion that the counselor had done something bad to you, however, two other people walked out of the office.

It was Ms. Lim, a professor and Nurse Suh.

The hallway was empty, and it would be suspicious if they had just stood there. So, Renjun, decides to grab Haechan’s wrist. Haechan didn’t move but Renjun grips him harshly. “We’re not leaving, we’re just hiding.” He says, pulling the boy with him and hiding on the corner.

Haechan takes in your posture, your aura and your entire vibe. You were still eternally beautiful, but he can sense that you’re not okay.

“Is it your boyfriend?” Ms. Lim ask softly, obviously trying to gain even the tiniest of cooperation with you.

“Seungcheol has nothing to do with this,”

Haechan flinches, eyes burning through you as he heard the name. It broke him, into a million pieces but he still manages to stand in his feet, wanting to hear the rest of it.

“We should go–” Renjun stopped talking when he saw the look in his bestfriend’s eyes.

“I need to stay,” He whispers, barely audible.

“The bruises on your neck are concerning, that’s unnatural, you can’t say its just because of your period. Somebody had to inflict force to create bruising that’s as horrible as those around your neck.” Nurse Suh explained.

Haechan can feel his own heart shattering. Mouth slowly opening in disbelief, tears threatening to escape. What he felt upon hearing that was beyond heartbreak, the pain was unbearable enough to cause him to go numb. With his hands shaking, he turned around.

He can hear Renjun calling his name but he focused on getting the hell out of there.

He finds himself outside your apartment, staring at the door not knowing what to do. He knows you’re not in here, yet he still can’t find it in himself to leave. He truly has no idea what step he should take next.

He doesn’t know how long he was standing there before the door opened, revealing the least person he wanted to see right now.

“Haechan? What’re you doing here?” Hayeon stood there, confused.

Haechan didn’t say anything, instead, looking down to confirm what's been killing him.

“Were you lying about this?” Haechan takes Hayeon’s clean wrists, and immediately, Hayeon snatched it back.

“W-why a-are you–”

“Hayeon-ah, please! J-just be honest, please,” Haechan yelled on top of his lungs, extremely tired of it all.

Hayeon knew there was no point in hiding it anymore, “Yes,”

And there it was. The truth that scared Haechan the most. He lost you, for no real reason.

The fact that he had left you suffering on your own, because of a horrible string of lies that held him from reaching out to you. All his sacrifices, for absolutely nothing.

“I knew what I did was wrong but did you have to lie about this?” His voice was now controlled, but the exhaustion was still pertinent.

“I can’t lose you to her, not her.. I’m so much better than her,” Hayeon breaks down crying, but Haechan just watches her hug her knees and sob.

“I think you never wanted me, Hayeon. You just wanted to compete with y/n, and you didn’t want to lose. This isn’t about me,”

“I hope you know that after what you did, you just stooped down to my level. We’re both fucking evil in this story, Hayeon. The only difference is that I tried making it right, but you will never stop if you wouldn’t have been caught.”

With that, Haechan walks away.

“Fine, fuck you, anyways! You both deserve each other!!” Hayeon screams, but Haechan just keeps walking.

Walking away from all the pain, from all the strings that bind him to her. He gets a whiff of freedom, and he felt relief knowing that the chapter that has him on hold has finally ended.

Haechan never expected Winter break to be this cold.

Afterall, the news said it wouldn’t even break last year’s temperature. But meh, what does the weatherman know? He might just spew bullshit to keep his job for all Hae-Donghyuck knows.

“You keep repeating the same show over and over again, Donghyuck-ah. Give up the remote!” Renjun’s girlfriend, Birdie, as everybody calls her, says as she tried to snatch the phone out of Donghyuck’s grasp.

“Remind me again why are you here?” Donghyuck jokes at her, earning a hefty slap on the wrist from Renjun.

“Renjun told me you wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, dude, you’re ruining our valentines day!” Renjun says lightly, but Donghyuck just mocks his words like a child.

“Do you have a thirdwheel kink?” Birdie kids again, but this time Donghyuck stood up.

“Y’know what, both of you can kiss my plump ass! Besides, who celebrates Valentines day at home? Renjun, you stingy bitch,” Donghyuck says as he grabs his coat and walks towards the door.

He hears both of them yelling at him to come back, saying they were just kidding. But Donghyuck knows that he’d be disturbing their cute-sy cozy home date bullcrap and he wouldn’t want to hear any of his friend’s fucking later on the evening.

“I’ll be back before eleven so you two should fuck now,” Donghyuck says before he closes the door.

And immediately, he regrets going outside. He’s literally gonna freeze his balls off, even with the layers of clothing he has right now.

“Aw shit,” He curses as he hugs himself, all the way to his car.

He drives off the streets of Seoul, with no particular destination. He just wanted to drive mindlessly, yet carefully, of course.

This was the first Valentines day Donghyuck had to spend alone.

He now swores off doing the shit he does before. No playing with girls, no fucking rando’s, and no doing hardcore drugs. ‘Til to this day, he still cringes when he thinks of what he used to be.

If the old Haechan could see him right now, he’d probably laugh in his face.

He then takes off his gloves for comfortability while driving, and he stares lovingly at his middle finger.

There, inked deep within his ring finger, was your initial.

He read a book once, when he was snooping around Renjun’s room. Before he could even snooze off, he gets to a page where he read something intriguing.

How to know if you’ve finally found your greatest love;

And it was so strange, because every single one of them falls under you.

You, who Donghyuck still thinks of everyday.

You, who became his standard whenever Jeno introduces him to a friend.

You, who he correlates to every single sunflower he sees.

And you, who he loved so much even tho you’ve never been his to begin with.

Donghyuck was convinced you were his greatest love.

Given, he has nothing to compare you to because he has never loved somebody this much before, but he just knows.

So, on one fateful night of his drunken escapades, he got your initial tattooed on his ring finger. Something he could keep. Something that he owned.

And sure, it was a reckless decision made by a drunken man, but he never felt any hint of regret the day after.

“How corny,” He says under his breath as he watches a public engagement unfold literally in front of the bench he was sitting at.

He aggressively chomps at his bungeoppang before starting to wrap it the plastic up. He decides it’s better to eat it at his car rather than keep watching these corny couples be couple-y looking.

“Can I have one?”

Recoiling backwards, Donghyuck turns around to see who that voice belongs to. Even tho he had a hint.

What greets him first was the same set of eyes he longed for, then the lips that he dreamed of each night he went to bed. Everything else was a blur.

Mouth slightly agape, Donghyuck once again finds himself speechless in front of you. After everything that had happened, it’s kind of hilarious how he still has the same reactions whenever you’re in front of him.

After a quick inhalation of his breath, “U-uhm, I only have the ones that has red beans in it.”

He honestly don’t know what else to say.

“That’s good,” You say and lend your hands over. With trembling hands, he grabs you a piece and gave it to you. Without blinking, he watched you sit on the same bench he was sitting on before.

Despite your obvious invitation for him to sit with you, he stood there in shock. Is he starting to imagine things?

“Are you gonna leave?” You say when you notice him not moving.

He swiftly shakes his head in disagreement as he takes quick steps to sit beside you.

“Your friends are really something, y’know?” You started off.

Donghyuck had questions, but before he could even spew them out, you continued.

“Renjun calls me everyday, Jaemin bothers me in class and Jeno constantly tries to talk to me everytime he sees me. How much did you pay those bastards?” He knows, based on your tone that you were saying those lightly but Donghyuck hurriedly turns towards you.

“I swear I never asked them to bother you. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were doing that, really–”

“They were saying the same damn thing, but I never believed them.” You say as you take a bite off of your bread. Not knowing how your words just re-open scars Donghyuck spent time healing.

“I’m so–”

“Because I want to hear it from you,”

For the second time this night, you left him speechless. With his rigid body posture and rapidly blinking eyes, his brain scattered thoughts he wanted to say to you.

“I was so ready to leave you and all these behind, you know. But everytime I try to look at other people, I just can’t help but to think of what would’ve happened if I gave you a chance to explain yourself?”

You continued, “Is it true that you called Lee Taeyong yourself to stop the rumours spreading? Is it also true that Hayeon lied about harming herself just to keep you? Is it you that reported Seungcheol to the police?” You listed all of the questions that he already has an answer to.

“All these questions, and none of them answered is the reason why I couldn’t just move on. There’s no clean slate if I still had baggage from the past, you know?”

Donghyuck feels like there’s a time ticking on him, like you’ll disappear any moment now. So he takes a deep breath before answering, “Yes, yes, and yes.”

“I’m gonna need more than that, you know?” You chuckled lightly, and he could’ve sworn it sounded like angels singing directly at his ears.

“I had connections to Taeyong-hyung and I begged him to scare off anybody who says a word about you, and I literally had to stand outside his door for hours on end just to talk to him,” He paused, because he knew he had to explain the other one more seriously. “And Hayeon did threaten me to hurt herself if I left, that’s why I couldn’t break up with her at that time. There was also a part of me that was dying of guilt, maybe that’s why I never questioned it. But the night I–” He squeezed his eyes shut, “--I down-spiralled because of d-drugs, I saw that she was faking it all along.. and that was the time I ended it with her. And yes, I did report that son of a bitch to the police.”

“After all that… you still didn’t come to find me?” You say, finally, looking at him straight in his eyes.

Just like the first time you two met, he still felt the same feeling of almost melting into putty everytime your eyes meet his. Every. single. time.

“I hurt you enough, I didn’t think I deserve you.” He says with nothing but the truth. He can’t afford to lie to you now.

“Did you regret it?”

Donghyuck nods his head. “I do, I really do. But would I do it again? Absolutely.”

“I think.. I think I’ve heard enough. B-but.. It’s gonna be hard to go back to what we were before.”

Donghyuck, with all of his strength, dared to touch your hand. Although it was cold, the spark he felt was enough to bring warmth.

“I don’t want to go back.” He says.

You furrowed your brows, “Uhm, oka–”

“I want to start over, I want to get you right, this time.” He says while it takes all of him to match your eyes.

“I want a fair shot, to a chance I never got before. I want to make you mine, but I hope you know that I’ve always been yours. Then, now, and forever.”

You smiled at him as you let a tear drop from your eye.

“Start over?” You ask.

Donghyuck nods again, this time as he smiled back at you. The first time in a long time, he smiled genuinely.

At you, the person that made him love his real name again.

At you, that turned him to a better man for himself.

At you, whom he’d never forget for the rest of his life.

And at you, who reminds him that after all, Lee Haechan, the heartbreaker, also has a heart.

He lets go of you hand and offers you a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Lee Donghyuck of NCU. Do you want to go on a date before Valentines day?”

He smiles goofily.

“Hi, Lee Donghyuck, I would absolutely love to.”

To be fair, Lee Donghyuck never claimed to be a good guy.

But for you? He’d die trying.

A/N: It’s finally finished! Aaah this series really tested me as an author. It’s amazing how a fanfiction can make you feel, moreso when you make one! A series at that! I realize that writing is a commitment, to both the readers and characters themselves. This was my first major project for myself— and although it took a looooong time, I am so glad that I finally finished it. One thing I can say tho, is that every story was straight out of my brain. I never rushed it, and I was never afraid to redo it all over again if I didn’t satisfy myself. That’s why it took a long time. Thank you all for supporting this series and please do support me by interacting with this post! And yep, you’ll be seeing more stories from me soon.

Again, Thank you so much for the support. Sincerely.

Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno, Huang Renjun and Lee Haechan from The Diary of the Heartbreakers now signing off.

© ryozakidesu, 2025

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 7

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Happy New Year! Chapter count is continuing to go up, because I need to halve this chapter after hitting 6k. Should be 10 parts. Hopefully.

Arthur did eventually show up with enough McDonald’s in tow to feed an army. 

Fries, Nuggets and even including apology milkshakes.

“I am really sorry,” her little brother apologised to her, looking distraught.

Colette exhaled slowly, trying her hardest not to laugh at the sheepish look on Arthur's face.

"The next time, maybe you should think before you post. But then I clearly didn’t do that either,” she said drily.

“I mean, karma is the guy in the car coming straight home to me, did amuse me very much,” Vic said brightly.

Arthur blushed deeply, and ducked his head in embarrassment. He set down the bags of takeout on the counter, and then looked up to her to apologize again, his eyes wide like a puppy begging for forgiveness.

"Come here," Colette said with a sigh, holding out her arms for him. "I love you, ma petite puce."

"Colette!" Arthur complained with a grimace, but she just grinned.

"Oh you'll always be my little flea," she teased her younger brother.

"Oh god, don't call me that," Arthur complained, letting her pull him into a tight hug. He let out a long suffering sigh. "I said I was sorry!"

"I know you are," she said, patting the top of his brown hair, even when that meant that she needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach. "But the fact remains that you were an idiot before."

Arthur groaned in embarrassment and dropped his head to her shoulder in defeat.

"Eat your fries," his voice was muffled. "And please tell me you have some salad or something in the fridge so Max doesn't kill me for feeding you nothing but junk food."

"I do have some salad in the fridge," Colette said and ruffled his hair. "I'll eat lots of veggies, I promise. And I’ll even tell Maxie that I blackmailed you into getting me fries, if you want,” she suggested brightly.  

Vic just snorted. "Let's just get that back in the living room and we can put on Sky News and bitch about the commentators."

"You guys are awful," Arthur protested, but he was already gathering their food and following along obediently. "The comments on Sky Sports are not nearly as bad as you make them out to be..."

Colette rolled her eyes and instead collapsed onto the couch, wriggling to get comfortable, because her back was still killing her.

Arthur was also very wrong. Danica Patricks definitively was that bad. Colette could just stare at the train wreck in front of her.

"Vic. Why in the world has Sky Jos on there to talk about Maxie's anger issues. What anger issues?" she demanded. Max didn’t have anger issues. Who in the world had come up with that? This was utterly ridiculous!

Victoria stared at her. "You don't know?!" she asked, sounding shocked.

"Know what?" Colette demanded. "Enzo deleted every social media app in existence from my phone. Why do people think that Max of all people has anger issues?!"

"George Russell," Arthur mumbled. "He said some...things."

Things. George Russell had said some things. 

Colette sat up a little straight at that, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What things?" she demanded. "What did he say?"

Victoria and Arthur exchange a look.

"He may have said that he wouldn't want Max to date his sister because he is sure that his girlfriend is the one dealing with his anger issues?" Arthur offered.

"He. Said. What?" Colette bit out.

No wonder there had been this tone in Max's voice when they had talked this morning...No wonder he had sounded upset, when that George fucking Russell had pretty much accused him of hurting her. And of course, he hadn't wanted to worry her, so of course, he hadn't told her.

Victoria reached out and grasped her elbow, as if she worried Colette would jump up and attack the screen.

"You need to stay calm," Vic said firmly. "You can't get worked up, it's not good for you, and it's not good for the baby," she warned her.

"I will murder George Russell," Colette growled in response.

"No murder," Victoria said in a no-nonsense voice. "You can't kill him, he's not worth it. And you can't have this stress, for your health. And the baby."

Colette huffed but she was still seething.

Only to then have Danica Patrick pipe up from the TV Screen: "What are your thoughts on your son’s supposed anger issues?"

"He doesn't have anger issues!" Colette snapped. "I have anger issues right now! I am going to find George Russell and punch him in the face!"

Arthur stared at her with an ill-hidden combination of horror and fascination.

Victoria laughed again, but it was mostly out of surprise and disbelief. "Well, at least we know that your temper is firmly intact," she said dryly.

"I'm sure Max is going to loooove seeing you this worked up over this," Arthur grumbled.

Colette had a lot of problems with Max's father, but at least for once she actually agreed with him:

"On the circuit…as soon as Max lowers his visor, he turns into a lion. He is really motivated and the only thing that matters is winning. It was always in him. What I see in Max now, I saw in karting," Jos answered Danica's question. "But that’s not the same Max you see when he is at home. On the race track, he is a lion, but at home, he’s a teddy bear. He got that from Sophie. He’s very sweet, very gentle…Incredible protective of the people he cares about."

For the first time in recent history, Colette found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with Jos Verstappen.

"He is a teddy bear," she mumbled in agreement. "The sweetest thing on earth. And that bastard has no idea what he's talking about," she bit out.

"Of course Max is a lion on the track," Arthur said with a scoff. "We've witnessed that ourselves. Everyone in the paddock knows that Max is a machine when he's in his race car, but George has his head up his ass if he thinks that Max is aggressive off the circuit."

"We all know that Maxie is the gentlest, most generous person out there," Victoria agreed, shaking her head. "George Russell is clearly jealous and is making stuff up just to get attention."

Colette just huffed.

"So you don't think he has anger issues?" Danica Patrick pushed.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Colette grumbled in response, her shoulders taut with anger.

Arthur laughed and Victoria squeezed her arm.

"No," Jos answered flatly.

Danica Patrick, who was clearly fishing for a different reply, seemed a little thrown by the firm response. But she rallied quickly enough to pivot: "And what can you tell us about your son’s relationship with Colette Leclerc?"

"Oh, come on!" Colette snapped.

"They have been together for a very long time," Jos replied simply, his accent strong as ever. "…since back in Karting. I don’t think anybody believed that that relationship would last, but they did prove everybody wrong."

The answer was unexpectedly charming and sincere.

Colette found herself blinking at that, surprised at how fond he sounded when talking about her and Max. Even Arthur was gaping stupidly, and it looked like Victoria was struggling not to choke on her drink from surprise.

"I think the great thing about Colette is that she understands his life, his career. She has a brother who does the same job as Max, so she was always incredibly supportive of him," Jos continued. "She is there for him. She supports him completely, and she’s been there for him through the good times and the bad. I don’t think Max would be the man he is today without her."

Arthur and Victoria stared at the screen with dropped jaws, stunned into silence.

"Is that Jos actually giving a heartfelt compliment?" Arthur muttered in disbelief.

“I think he is?” Victoria responded questioningly. This was certainly a new experience for everyone.

On the screen, Jos continued: "I have been watching their relationship for over half of Max's life, and Max really did pick the right girl."

"Your son hasn’t talked a lot about his relationship," Danica said leadingly.

"Oh, you won’t get anything from him," Jos said with a snort. "He’s very protective over her, always has been. Especially with her in her current condition."

Colette’s eyes widened and she immediately put a hand over her stomach in a protective gesture. 

"Fuck," Victoria cursed.

“Did he seriously just do that?” Arthur croaked. “Did he just tell all of F1 - no, all of the world - that Colette is pregnant?”

All three of them just gaped at the TV.

Danica Patricks looked like a vampire that had just tasted blood. "Her current condition?" she asked, her voice honeyed sweet.

"Yes," Jos confirmed simply. "The baby is supposed to come any day now. We’re all incredibly excited for the new addition to the family. I mean, it took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough."

He said like it was a joke. Like it hadn't taken them the better part of 3 years and 2 miscarriages.

Colette’s whole body had tensed, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as the words echoed in her mind: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough. Those words felt like a punch to the gut - like a mockery of all the pain and disappointment and suffering.

All the stress and anxiety and anguish that they had gone through. All the tears and the desperation and prayers for a miracle.

And all of it reduced to a cheap, dirty joke.

"I am going to throttle him," Victoria said, her voice shaking.

"Get in line," Arthur grumbled, looking equally enraged.

Colette just sat there staring fixedly at the screen, feeling like her whole mind had gone numb.

It was one thing when Jos made his snide little comments to them, but it was quite another when he decided to talk about that on international TV. He made it sound like their troubles to conceive had only been a matter of not trying hard enough.

It felt like a gut punch. Colette had always known that Jos had no idea how hard the last couple of years had been for them, but now, in light of his comment, it sounded like he somehow assumed it had all been their own fault.

They had kept both miscarriages quiet...had only shared it with a handful of people. She knew that Max had told Vic about it, but he had never told his father.

Her hands were shaking with anger. The urge to throw something - anything - was almost overwhelming as the words echoed in her head over and over: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough.

How could he have been so cruel? How could he go and announce it on international television and make it sound like it hadn’t been the hardest thing that either of them had ever been through?

It felt like a betrayal. Colette had never expected much out of Max’s father, but this? This felt like twisting the knife in a still-healing wound and pouring salt into it.

It felt like a stab to the back. Jos had no idea. No idea how hard it had been to keep the hope up. No idea how much it had hurt with every failed test and every lost dream. And no idea how much they both had longed for the baby that was growing within her.

And now he was just treating it like it had been a matter of not working hard enough, as if it had been an easy task and they had simply taken their sweet time to do something that came naturally to most people.

Her mind would have continued to turn into circles...if there hadn't been a sudden stabbing pain low in her abdomen.

Colette winced as the pain flared. It was a shock, and her hands immediately flew down to press against the source of the pain.

"Are you alright?" Victoria asked immediately. Colette clenched her teeth as the cramping pain seemed to grow even worse, before easing.

"Just...just a cramp," Colette managed to breathe out. "It's fine. It's fine. I just- it just startled me, that's all."

She tried to assure herself that it was nothing. Just Braxton Hicks - just the body preparing for the labor, the pain sometimes got intense. But something about it felt...off.

"Is that the first one today?" Victoria asked her. "You winced a few times this morning."

Colette thought back to this morning, recalling how she had woken up with a stabbing pain in her lower back. She hadn’t thought much of it then, since her muscles hadn’t been happy with her in a long time at this point - and it had passed pretty quickly after a few minutes.

"I'm not sure, I-" she started, her breath catching.

There was pain again, another stabbing contraction.

"Are they getting stronger?" Victoria asked, her voice sharpening.

The pain receded after a few seconds, and Colette had to force down the urge to curl up on the couch with her hands on her stomach as she tried to take deep breaths."It's nothing. I still have 4 weeks," Colette said with a shake of her head.

The words sounded like a prayer. Because she wasn’t due for at least another month, after all. This was just the Braxton Hicks contractions that her doctor had warned her about. The practice contractions that were supposed to help get her body ready for labor, nothing to worry about.

It was just her body preparing for the birth, that was all.

But the pain came back again, and this time, Colette couldn't quite suppress the gasp as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through it.

"Colette," Victoria said, her voice sharp. "I don’t think they’re just practice contractions. The way you’re tensing and wincing...this is the real deal. I think you’re going into actual labor."

“No,” Colette said, her heart lurching in her chest. “No, no, I’m not…I’m not supposed to go into labor until January, this is- this is not supposed to happen.”

She had just hit her 36th week, and she was due at the start of January. It was far too early for the labor to start.

"I don't think the baby cares about that," Victoria said with a laugh. "Come on, we'll need to get you to the hospital."

"No, I can't be in labour. Max isn't here," she disagreed.

Colette felt a fresh wave of panic wash over her. The very last thing she wanted to do was start labor without Max there, and Max was currently in the middle of a race on the opposite end of the world.

“Where’s your hospital bag?“ Victoria asked her, all business. “Where’s are the car keys? Arthur is driving.“

“What, no!“ Arthur squeaked. Arthur clearly looked terrified, his eyes growing like saucers as he stared at them. "No - no, I don’t think I can-"

But Victoria was already rounding on him. "Oh yes,  you can. Just get the keys and get the damn car ready. I‘ll help Colette get her things, and you'll drive us."

The authority in her voice was intimidating enough that Arthur didn’t dare to disagree with her, and he nodded mutely and hurried away to look for the car keys.

Colette was torn between laughing at her brother’s expression and panicking over the fact that her labor was actually starting.

Just like that, she felt frozen in place a few moments longer, before Victoria snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hey, no freezing up. We need to get moving. We need to get to the hospital, and your kid doesn’t care that it still needs 4 more weeks. So come on, come on, get your things."

It snapped her out of her temporary daze, and she managed to focus back to the present again. "Right, yeah," Colette mumbled, and she quickly went to get her hospital bag.

She had already packed it, just in case - but she had definitely not expected to actually use it.

Her hands were shaking as she picked it up, the whole situation still not entirely sinking in yet. Max was not here. She was going to have her baby without him here - that wasn’t how it was supposed to be!

But the pain came back again, and her body seemed to agree that there was no time left to waste.

She winced through the contraction, and Vic’s face tensed as she saw it.

"How are you doing?" she asked, watching her worriedly. Colette had to take a deep breath, trying to keep breathing as the pain faded out again. "I’m-” she started, but that was the same second that Arthur appeared again with the keys.

"The car is ready," he said, sounding very much like he’d rather bolt.

"Right," Victoria said, and she looked at Colette. "We gotta go. You good to go?"

Colette felt a surge of panic as the truth of leaving to go to the hospital finally sank in - she felt very much like her entire body had seized up. But Arthur was already waiting at the door with an expectant look on his face that did not look at all reassuring, and Victoria had picked up her hospital bag and was ushering Colette’s towards the hallway.

The contractions didn’t seem to care about any of her feelings, anyway.

"Come on," Victoria told her quietly. "We're gonna go and have a beautiful birth, and when you're done, there’ll be a healthy baby in your arms, okay?"

Colette was sure that her face had gone pale, and her hands were shaking as she slowly made her way through the hallway. Victoria led her the entire time, supporting her as they moved.

She was more than grateful to slip into the backseat of the Audi and her hands could claw themselves into the buttery soft leather interior.

“Are you sure we can’t wait for an adult?“ Arthur asked weakly.

“You are an adult. You literally drive race cars for a living,“ Victoria snapped.

Colette would have laughed at Arthur’s terrified expression in any other situation, but at the moment, she really wasn’t up to find anything funny.

“Just drive the damn car, Arthur!“ Victoria snapped, and Arthur flinched, his eyes wide as saucers.

A whimper escaped Colette as another contraction gripped her, and she curled up in the back seat, both hands clawed in the seat as the wave of pain ebbed away again. Her breathing was ragged, and she felt like she was slowly coming apart at the seams.

"Keep breathing," Victoria’s sharp voice came from her left side, and she felt a cool, smooth hand on her forehead. "Just keep breathing. You're doing great."

The words managed to cut through the panic, and Colette managed to gasp out a shuddering breath. “I-” she choked out, “I can’t…I can’t do this without Max, I-”

"You are doing it," Victoria cut in, her voice steady and sharp like a blade. "You are doing it, and you are going to be fine. Max will be by your side the moment he can, but you will make it until then. Just keep breathing and keep talking, you’re doing great."

[viiennie]

mdni 18+

Frontman! Gojo Satoru whose eyes stay stuck on you the moment you enter the facilities with that gorgeous face and those pretty doe eyes.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who thinks literally everything you do is adorable, each bounce to your step, each flutter of your eyelashes, and each tiny smile you send everyone you make eye contact with sends butterflies to his stomach, his heart pulsing with adornment.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who can't help himself, not having the power to just watch you through a screen. He needs to be closer to you. He needs to be the one you're smiling at, the one you depend on no matter what. He just has to have you.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who approaches you first, a friendly smile on his face as he introduces himself. He swears he melts on the spot when he finally gets to hear your voice in person. He almost feels bad when you finally enter the first game, the sparkle in your eyes telling him you definitely weren't prepared for what's to come.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru feels guilt gnaw his heart at the sight of your terrified expression when the first person for the season meets their end, bullet in their skull with the blood splattering on your cheek. He makes sure you stay behind his towering frame after realizing you couldn't control your trembling after that.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who comforts you after the red light green light game, arms wrapped around your trembling body as he whispers words of assurance into your ears.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru, who if he said he didn't take pleasure in the way you looked so small and helpless, then he'd be lying.

“W-what do I do Gojo? I-I’m pregnant too! My baby..” Your hands rest on your belly, the bump not being obvious because of the fact that you were only 3 months along. You were scared. So scared for both you and your baby’s safety. Had you known this game included losing lives, then you would’ve gladly burnt that card the recruiter gave you and endured poverty if it meant being alive with your child. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who feels his dick straining in his pants for some reason at the news of you being with child. He knows it’s the worst time to be popping a boner, but how can he control himself when you look so pretty with tears running down your face? How can he help himself when he imagines fucking you raw and deep with your pretty baby bump showing underneath that annoyingly thick jacket? He groans, biting his lip to stop himself from daydreaming, “Don’t worry pretty, I’ll protect you and your baby, yeah?”

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who thinks it’s the cutest thing ever when you tell him you wanna try befriending the other pregnant woman, hoping a bond would form between the two of you. He encourages you, giving you advice on how to start a conversation before gently pushing you toward player number 222.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who takes the chance to slip away while you and everyone else is distracted during break time, instructing all his pink soldiers to be gentle with you, and to make sure to specifically give you food that was good for pregnant women. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who is surprised when you wake him up in the middle of the night, asking him to come with you to the bathroom because you really, really needed to go but you were also too scared to go alone. He chuckles at your cuteness, easily agreeing to your demands before accompanying you to the said bathrooms.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who’s even more surprised when you pull him into one of the stalls in the women’s bathroom, your lips crashing against him in a messy attempt to makeout. He thinks it’s so endearing how you whisper to him about your raging hormones and how you just can’t take it anymore. 

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who doesn’t waste time to plunge his fingers deep inside you, the squelching noises further keeping him motivated to give you your sweet release. The way your knees quiver and your arms cling onto him for balance sends blood rushing straight to his dick, moans and whines leaving his lips, only to be muffled by your own.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who's got shivers going up his spine when he finally buries his cock deep inside your sore pussy, hips stuttering in movement as he tries to be gentle with you, reminding himself that you're pregnant and he couldn't be as rough as he wanted.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru, who resolve breaks down when you whine into his ears for more, for him to go harder and not to hold back because it felt so good. He's now got you in a full nelson, burying his cock balls deep into your pretty cunt without an ounce of hesitation.

Frontman! Gojo Satoru who makes sure to take care of you well after several rounds, cleaning you up with his tongue and brushing out your messy hair with his fingers. He finds himself smiling at the way you blink sleepily in his arms. He's definitely going to whisk you away after these games are finished.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Guide Me Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: While walking downtown, you inhale fear toxin. It's up to the Bats to find you before your heart gives out.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Scarecrow attack, (kind of) graphic hallucinations (only a small allude to blood though)

Fun fact: As I wrote this, 'quiet' started to not look like a word anymore.

You rub at your eye, muttering below your breath. Wind has been whipping through the Gotham streets all day, drying out your contacts to the point of discomfort.

The next time you blink, one flips up. Cursing, you cup a hand over the affected eye and blink until the stupid contact rights itself. Digging around your purse, you find your suspicions to be true: after the last time you needed to use your emergency backup contacts, you forgot to replace them. The small bottle of contact solution is missing, lost to the abyss of the purse or somewhere else. All you know is that it’s not here.

The only alternative is your glasses, and those are always a last resort. With an outdated prescription, uncomfortably heavy bridge, and scratched lenses, they’re far from ideal.

It’s fine. You’ll splash some water on your face when you get to the cafe and blink a lot. They’re fine.

Your friend is already sitting by the time you get there, but hasn’t ordered their drink yet. You haven’t seen them for several months, though you used to see each other every day during undergrad. They’re only here for a work conference. They live in Metropolis now, and are wearing an ‘I SURVIVED MY VISIT TO METROPOLIS’ shirt to show it. A couple Gothamites around them are actively laughing into their hands at the sight of it. After all, compared to this city, really nothing is worse.

After the usual greeting, hug, and exclamations over how long it’s been, you say, “Sorry, but my contact’s actually killing me right now. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll watch your stuff,” they say cheerfully.

The bathroom’s about as good as someone could hope for in Gotham. The remains of scrubbed-away graffiti lingers on the wall around the mirror, and a paper towel with a suspicious red stain hangs over the edge of the trash can. Not quite the vibe this place is going for, judging by the painted ivy around the walls and the hanging plants, but oh well.

You blink, squeeze your eyes shut, rub them, and open them again. Much better.

There’s a drink in front of your friend by the time you make it back to the table they found, pushed in the back corner where things are a little quieter. “They have seasonal syrups,” they say, sipping the drink. “Though a lot of them are named after supervillains.”

You scoff and shrug off your coat. “Please. Clayface is hardly a supervillain. He’s just a washed-up actor.”

“That must be nice,” your friend says wistfully. “Did I tell you I had to replace my car last month?”

“No!”

“Yeah! Some alien dictator had beef with Superman. A lot of cars were thrown in that fight.”

“Ugh,” you say wistfully. “We had some good memories in that car.” They’d had it since undergrad.

“Gone but never forgotten,” they say, holding their cup up for cheers, and you both remember that you haven’t ordered anything yet.

Even though you’re on a bit of a caffeine ban—boyfriend’s orders—you order a coffee. One a day won’t hurt you, not when you were averaging at least four during the recent busy season. The pathology lab you work at always has a huge rush of biopsies ordered between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Now that it’s a little into January, you’re not scrambling quite so much.

With your drink in hand, you head back to the table to keep catching up. Your friend started a new job with a much better boss than their old one. They’re thinking about proposing to their partner of five years. Their dog got into their family’s big holiday meal and they had to order last-minute Chinese takeout instead. And they can’t decide whether to cut their hair or keep growing it out.

Then it’s your turn. You’re four years into your job at the lab, kind of feeling like you want a change, but the generous Christmas bonus is making you think twice. Your apartment is okay but not nice. Your cat is healthy and happy and extremely spoiled. Your family lives across the country, all with separate plans, so you stayed in Gotham for the (surprisingly uneventful) winter.

“What did you do for the holidays, then?” your friend asks, their drink long since finished. Judging by their eyes drifting back to the counter as you speak, they want another.

“My boyfriend’s family celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas,” you say. “Nothing too fancy, of course, none of us are terribly religious. But it was nice to see each other on a regular basis for a week straight.” Jason would disagree, but only out of principle. “We’re all busy people.”

“And your boyfriend? Jason, right? How is he? What does he do for work, again?”

Here comes the hard part. No matter what happens in your personal life, you can’t talk to anyone about it unless they’re in the know. Keeping Gotham safe requires a fairly large system; you and several other scientists or similar professionals are able to contact the Bats through Leslie Thompkins, Lucius Fox, and Commissioner Gordon, but of that number, only a fraction know their identities.

Working overtime at the lab as a new hire, you were the only one Leslie could reach at midnight when Black Bat came in contact with a mysterious substance through an open wound. From midnight to eight a.m., you collected blood and skin samples with hands that shook under the scrutiny of Batman’s white-lensed gaze. Your treatment was a gamble but a success, and after that, the Bats started to come to you more and more. So many of their rogues use biowarfare, after all. Still, it took over a year for Black Bat and Spoiler to take off their masks around you. At that point, you’d only seen Red Hood once, when he brought Robin in and ordered you to never tell Batman that he’d done so. Months after that, he took off his helmet around you, but only because of a nasty cut on his neck, and the domino mask beneath it stayed on. You’d known each other for a year and a half before he spoke more than five curt words to you at a time. Analyzing a new street drug was the first time you two ever worked together, and it was fun. After that, he just kept coming back.

It took so long to gain their trust, and you won’t risk it. But there are so many secrets. How can you explain to anyone else that not only is your boyfriend related to Bruce Wayne—yes, the Bruce Wayne of Gotham, billionaire, CEO, activist, and philanthropist—but he is, in fact, the man’s very publicly dead son?

So you can tell people about your boyfriend named Jason. You can’t introduce him to anyone from outside Gotham; the jagged scar on his cheek and glowing green eyes tend to raise more questions than answers. You can mention that he has a large family. You can’t tell them who his family is. You can tell them that Jason works flexible hours, usually at night, so the two of you see each other often despite your busy schedules. You can’t tell them what Jason actually does for work.

“He runs a not-for-profit community service organization,” you lie, the words familiar and tasteless from how often you’ve had to say them. And he sort of does, but with a lot more violence and criminal cavorting than most other not-for-profits. “He’s really passionate about helping Gotham’s kids that come from low-income households.” The foster system reform laws passed last year were lobbied by Wayne Enterprises, but it was the Red Hood showing up in politician’s houses in the dead of night that really sped up the process.

“I talked to Avery the other day,” your friend says. “They’re convinced you’re making him up.”

You sigh. Avery is another friend from college. You two were in the same friend group for years, but were never particularly close outside of it. “We don’t like to take pictures together, okay?”

Your friend eyes you with a faint air of dissatisfaction. “Well, if you say so. I was actually hoping to meet him while I’m here.”

You try not to let it show how your heart leaps into your throat at the thought. Around the lump, you say, “I’m sure he’d love to, but he’ll be stuck all day at the office.” Lie. He’s at home right now, baking muffins and wearing an apron with the words ‘Kiss the Cook.’ Damian and Tim scribbled over the two ‘S’s with Sharpie to make it ‘KiLL the Cook,’ but the sentiment is still there.

“Right,” they say slowly.

The meetup doesn’t last long after that. At the end of it, you hug and promise to meet up more often, even though it’s unlikely. With a wave, they head off for their conference, and you’re almost out the door when you blink wrong and—

Half the world goes blurry.

You feel the contact fall down your cheek and onto the ground.

“Goddamnit,” you hiss under your breath.

Glasses it is.

You’ve been wearing contacts for so long that you can take out the other one without breaking stride. The wind hasn’t let up in the slightest, and it makes your nose run.

Sniffling slightly, shoulders hunched against the chill, you don’t see the pumpkin until it’s too late.

They’re after you.

It’s not safe, not for you, not for anyone, they want you, they’re grabbing you, hands on your shoulder, people screaming—screaming at you—for you to stop—no—for—for something to stop?

Something is wrong. Dimly, in the back of your mind, you know something is wrong, but your hands are shaking and your bag is ripping, someone is clawing at you, screaming, desperate, they want you to fall back so they’re safe (from what?) and someone else shoves you and you go spinning out, bag in one direction and you in the other and—

They’re changing, the person clawing at you, turning into a monster, and you scream.

They’re after you

(who is after you)

They want to hurt you

(why)

(what is going on)

And you can’t see, something is wrong, you hear glass crunch and then the whole world goes out of focus.

You can’t see.

They’ll get you if you can’t see, and now you can see them, the dark shapes rising from the shadows, claws out and maws gaping, hungry, hungry, hungry for you and your marrow and your heart and they’re going to get you—

You run.

You trip over something (or someone; something like a bone crunches) and your heel slides and your hands catch you but not really, chin clipping the ground so hard your teeth click, and your hands burn, and your chin aches, but they’re still behind you, behind and getting closer—

You run.

You run and they get closer and you see the corner of something dark and blurry, and maybe it’s another monster or maybe it’s a building, and you skid to a stop and throw yourself behind it.

It’s not a monster. It smells awful—a dumpster—and the ground is wet, you hope from rain, but maybe it’s blood

(you’re sitting in a pool of it)

(you’ll be covered)

(the monsters will smell the blood and come running and they’ll hear you shuffling, they’ll hear you panting, they’ll hear your heart pounding, pounding, pounding—)

You scramble to the farthest corner between the brick building’s corner and the dumpster—maybe their clawed arms will be too short to reach you—and hide your face in your hands—you need to stop breathing so loudly—you need to be quiet, quiet, quiet—

People continue to scream. The city, the city Jason and his family try so hard to protect, everyone is dying and you’re going to die and maybe they’ll die, too, or maybe they’ll survive, and maybe they’ll find your dead body and that would ruin Jason, or maybe they won’t and you’ll rot behind the dumpster, smelling just as bad as the trash inside it—

Quiet quiet quiet.

You can’t stop shaking, your teeth won’t stop rattling, and you have to be quiet quiet quiet.

But your heart keeps pounding, faster and faster. It hasn’t slowed down since the monsters came, it’s only getting louder and faster.

Dimly you think you might be having a heart attack.

Everything gets a thousand times worse when one of the monsters shouts your name.

How do they know your name?

Footsteps on the pavement and people have stopped screaming.

Dead, you think. And you’ll be next if you’re not quiet quiet quiet.

The monster shouts your name again. It’s louder—they’re closer. You curl into a tighter ball. They can’t find you.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Your chest hurts; your heart wants to jump out of it.

Jason, you think wildly. Jason will save you. If Jason finds you, he’ll keep you safe. Your hands fish at your side, but find empty air: your purse is gone. There’s no way to reach him, and he can’t even track your location through your phone.

The monster shouts your name again. It has a deep voice.

Another voice joins it, deeper, pitched lower. You can’t quite make out the words.

“They’re around here,” the first monster insists. “B, we don’t have long, this strain is strong—”

“They’re strong,” says the second monster. “Their heart can handle it.”

Something thumps and a third monster says, “Everyone else is clear. Signal had to take two people to the hospital, but they’ll be fine, don’t look so upset, B.”

“You have the antitoxin?” the first monster demands.

“Relax, Hood,” drawls the third monster. “‘Course I do. So you tracked them here?”

“Yeah, I just—” Again it shouts your name. It sounds almost upset. “Please, it’s me, I can help you. Come on. You’re safe. You inhaled fear toxin, I know you’re terrified, but it’s me. You know me.”

It’s trying to lure you in. You won’t fall for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath. Let them move on. Let them search somewhere—

“There you are.”

A hulking figure is blocking the light.

The monsters found you.

“Stop it!” you yell, trying to sound brave. “Leave me alone or—or you’ll regret it!”

“Please,” it wheedles, “I’m just trying to help you. Don’t you recognize me?” It reaches out with clawed hands and you kick frantically, but there’s nowhere else for you to go.

“Hey, aren’t these their glasses?” asks the third monster. “What happened to their contacts?”

“Don’t come any closer! The Red Hood will get you, I know him, if you hurt me he’ll kill you! Stop it!”

“I’m really sorry about this, honey,” the monster says, and its clawed hand latches around your ankle and you howl. The sharp points dig deep through skin into muscle and sinew, and it hurts and you’re going to die—

“Jason!” you shriek. “Jason, help me!”

“I’m right here,” the monster lies. “Please, I’m right here, look at me—”

You won’t. You won’t do it. You can’t watch while it kills you. “Jason, please!” you bawl again, but it’s too late. The monsters have you, you’re surrounded, he’ll never forgive himself but what could he even do against them—

Sharp teeth dig into your neck.

You’re dead.

“There we go, darling,” the monster says. Strong arms wrap around you—it wants to crush you to death—and you struggle, but there’s no use.

Except—

You can hear now, kind of, the rush of blood in your ears is receding a bit, and something heavy lands on your nose. This time, when you blink your eyes open, the world’s edges have sharpened. And the monster in front of you—

Well, you recognize the dark hair with a shock of white, and the brilliantly green eyes would be visible if not for the white-lensed domino mask, and the jagged scar on his cheek.

“Jay?” you murmur, hand coming up to touch it. He doesn’t flinch away. It took so long for him to stop flinching when you touch his face. Over his shoulder, you see Batman and Spoiler watching with satisfaction and slight worry. “What happened?”

“Scarecrow,” he says grimly. “He gassed the street, but only about twenty people were affected. I was patrolling nearby, and when I saw your purse on the ground—” He grimaces, then fixes you with a hard look. His two hands can span most of your head, and he takes it to press a firm kiss to your forehead. When he pulls back slightly, without looking away, “I want their heart checked.”

“The antitoxin—” Batman starts.

“I don’t care,” Jason snarls.

Your hands loosely hold his forearms, still shaking a little. “How’d you find me?”

“I tracked you,” he says softly.

“But my phone—”

“Honey,” he says gently, “of course that’s not the only one.”

Well. You should have guessed that, honestly.

“I’ll go check on the victims,” Batman says suddenly. “Come on, Spoiler.”

“Glad to see you’re okay,” Spoiler says to you, then dashes after Batman. In a whirl of capes, they’re gone.

“I’m so sorry,” Jason says in a rush.

“Jay—”

“I should have protected you,” he grits out, white lenses turning to slits as he squeezes his eyes shut. “This should never have happened—”

“You couldn’t have known,” you say softly, letting go of his arms and wiggling beneath them to wrap yours around his torso. Your nose wedges against his chest kind of uncomfortably, but now you can smell him, the familiar gunpowder and a little bit of sour sweat, and the faint tremble in his bones that mirrors the one in your hands. He clutches you close, head buried in the crook of your neck.

He croaks, “I’m so sorry, so sorry, so—”

“You saved me,” you mumble into his armor. “I knew you would.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Jay.” You pull back to look at him seriously. “Even when I couldn’t think straight, I knew you would come. I’ll always know that, no matter what toxin’s messing with my head.”

Judging by the twist of his mouth, he doesn’t quite believe that. He’ll beat himself up internally for days, you know.

But you also know that while Bruce runs his tests in the Cave to make sure there’s no more toxin in your system, he’ll hold your hand the whole time. You know he’ll hold you tight in the bed you share tonight. You know, as long as Jason lives and breathes, he’ll always protect you.

“I love you,” he says thickly. “So much.”

“I love you too.”

“Let’s get you checked out.” He helps you up and holds you close and you know that you’ll be okay.

Jason’s here, so you’ll be okay.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts @cliosunshine @fictionalwhor3 @bellathecatastrophe

Let me know if there's anything you want to see from me. Inspiration strikes at odd intervals, and I get lonely.

[thoughtfulfiction]

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am going to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at the end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get there and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. “We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

[saeun]

food for thought, except it’s unwanted jujutsu kaisen : fem-reader.

have you ever wondered about a scenario so much that you must ask? well that’s exactly the last thing they’d wish to answer.

+ love ‘su: gojo, geto, itadori + ‘live, laugh, love’ hater final boss ( sukuna )

gojo satoru ﾉ refuses to answer.

“do you ever think about how it’d be if we never met?”

“ha— no. don’t even go there.”

satoru stops you there. he doesn’t wish to hear another word from you— especially if it extends your former question. he thinks about it— daily, in fact. it's a scenario that crosses his mind whenever he finds himself drunk on the temporary love he receives from you.

you’ve sung the lyric ‘i’ll love you until there’s no more left’ almost every week for him, silently begging that he gets the concept of genuine love through his head.

“why not? imagine if my friends didn’t make that bet where i either hit on you or pay for the night.” you reminisced, remembering the very night you lost the last touch of shame.

he hums, drumming his fingers on your thigh.

“bet or not, we’d still be fated to meet. next question!”

“anddd what makes you so confident?” you threw another question at him. this time, it's lighthearted.

“mind you, i’m the second coming of an angel. i predetermined this since three years ago.”

glances were exchanged, an expression of a grinning fool met the expression of a glaring responsible person who’s the said fool’s other romantic half.

you should've been familiar with satoru’s ways. it’s your fault for expecting a deep-dive conversation with satoru. not quite his cup of tea!

geto suguru ﾉ expects it and tries to escape.

suguru's home was no new, unexplored area to you. you knew his home's blueprint like the back of your hand. if needed, you'd walk through his home blindfolded and still end up in the room you want to be in.

this isn't a good thing to suguru. there are days where the feeling of confusion as to who he is piles up on him, leading him to isolate himself.. until he forgets there's a spare key of his isolation cube in your hold so now the plan goes awry.

that is exactly what’s happening. after he sent the text ‘k bye’ and silenced his notifications, he felt an impending doom. the reason was unknown by then but he should've guessed it was you.

you marched into his home, readying yourself with suguru-loneliness-begone techniques and, of course, the question that's been wandering your mind since you woke up from a dream.

“babe, what if—”

“fuck,” he curses under his breath, too exhausted to put a hand over your mouth.

“what if we were the last persons on earth? would you recreate humanity with me or kill yourself?”

there it is: your special ‘what if’ questions that know no bounds when it comes to absurdity.

“when would that ever happen? please, stop this,” he groans, pleading with his eyes for you to stop.

“that's the thing— you never know! so, what option is it?”

“i'd kill myself a long time ago if possible.”

“so it's the second one?”

“i'm... not cut out to be a good father.”

“i hate an indecisive bitch, my goodness,” it's your turn to complain, a little let down at his grey answers.

suguru's equally offended. you're the one who jumped him with such a question— who even thinks about that?!

“(y/n), baby, has it ever crossed your mind that your thinking skills aren't quite normal?”

“are you calling me stupid?!”

itadori yuuji ﾉ just as stupid.

it's mango season— yuuji's most anticipated season of the year. mangoes are to yuuji what your lipbalm is to you. a necessity, a survival item, a lifesaver, an important part of his lore, something he worships.

peeling mangoes and slicing them to equal pieces has never brought him such satisfaction before. it immediately brightens his mood. this must be how his grandfather felt whenever he took a walk around the neighbourhood.

now you appear, yuuji's second most anticipated person. you to yuuji is what mangoes are to him. this causes yuuji's current happiness level to reach its peak today. such a great level of happiness can defeat any evil being with just being in its area.

“say, yuu,” you begin, stabbing one of the mangoe slices with a fork.

he nods, signalling that he's listening but still focused on his current activity. a true mulit-tasker.

“if one of your limbs happen to detach from your body, do you feel the pain or does the pain go with it?”

he stops, allowing the question to sink in. he's never been asked such a.. divine question before. what's the answer? does the pain go with the limb or does it stay?

“oh... i gotta ask nobara this, she'd know,” he suggests, placing the knife down. a question that'll haunt him if he doesn't act quick for the answer.

“yes, yes!!” you encourage his actions, mindlessly enjoying the mango slices. mangoes are truly a blessing.

sukuna ryomen ﾉ no. nice try, though! A+ for effort.

“ryo, have you ever wondered if—”

“no, i never.”

“you didn't even let—”

“i haven't learnt since two-thousand years ago.”

“you old fuck, let me finish—”

“it's truly been a while since i've wondered.”

“DAMN, BITCH!”

you threw the remote at him, ultimately fed up with him cutting you off before the peak of the sentence. it could've been the question of the year and he'd still dodge it.

sukuna invited himself over since he ran out of entertainment options and you're always there for him. unfortunately, you do not find him as entertainin. he's annoying, arrogant, and attractive so it cancels out the negatives about him.

of course, sukuna caught the remote. his athletic capabilities are its prime despite him being dormant for centuries. it'd be a white lie to say he's not interested in your question, however it is way more benefitting to push your buttons.

he throws the remote back onto your bed, drying his hands with your hand-towel before making his merry way to you.

“your bed's small.”

“well no shit. it's for ME.”

“you mad? you look mad.” his hand holds your chin, turning your head side-to-side to observe your expression.

you rolled your eyes, “i don't get mad that easily.”

“is this how people felt when i told them an obvious lie? i should repent.”