#sorry for being late !! had to get sorted out at the place i’m dog-sitting at 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[moonstruckme]

no cause I was thinking…. reckless driving by lizzy is so james coded!!! so I wanted to ask if you could write something inspired by it with reader being a bit insecure about loving him loudly and he’s just like a walking „I love my gf“ sign

ily I hope you are having a great day/night🫶🫶

Thanks for requesting, love you!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s beginning to frighten you how often you think of James. One of your friends will make a joke and you’ll catch yourself trying to remember it for him, or you’ll see a cute dog and want to send him a picture, or you’ll overhear a conversation in public and wish he were with you to press in close to your ear and ask Did you hear that? 

It’s sort of pathetic, really, considering you’ve only been dating a few weeks. The last time you’d met up you talked about how much you both loved the thin oreos, and when you saw a pack in the store yesterday you’d almost bought it for him. Only the realization of how much your life has started to revolve around him stopped you. 

You can’t be acting like James’ girlfriend. You’re only dating. It’s not like you love him—though you could, definitely, in time. But if you start doing girlfriend things, he’s going to think you are his girlfriend, and things will spiral out too fast for you to stop them. You have to dole out your affection in measured doses. Careful, controlled. 

You feel James enter before you see him. He holds the door to the coffee shop open wide, letting another woman exit before he steps inside, and the cool air that comes in with him has you turning your head. 

James is smiling as soon as he sees you. It’s a seemingly perpetual thing for him, this expression. You’re tempted to look out the window to the sidewalk and see if he’s left a trail of sunshine in his wake. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from you. “You look really lovely.” 

You look exceedingly normal, but you thank him for the compliment anyway. “So do you.” 

“Thanks,” James says easily, like he gets this all the time (he probably does) but appreciates it nonetheless. He starts to dig in the tote he’s hung on the back of his chair. “I’ve brought you something.” 

You start to protest, but he anticipates you. 

“It’s tiny, don’t worry. Here.” 

He slides something crinkly across the table. It’s a pack of thin oreos. 

“Oh, no way! I almost…” You look up, meeting James’ eyes as your brain catches up to your mouth. Too late, you’ve blurted. You can hardly roll it back now. “I almost got a pack for you the other day, too.” 

He doesn’t seem to take your insensitivity to heart. In fact, his eyes light up. “Really! That’s so funny.” His hand remains still on the table but his fingers stretch towards yours, the barest of touches. “It was nice of you to think of me.” 

Your heart slumps. “I’m sorry I didn’t get them for you, though,” you say. “We should share these ones.” 

“Nope.” James leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Those are all you, love. Say, have you had a look at the menu?” 

You wince. “I’ve already ordered, actually.” 

“That’s alright,” he says breezily. “Back in a sec.” 

He stands and gets in line, leaving you to contend with the semi-awkward silence of being in the same place yet not speaking. Right as he finishes ordering, the barista calls your name. James looks like he might grab your drink for you, but you meet him at the counter, thanking the barista as you take it. 

“No problem,” she says with a smile. “Love your outfit, by the way.” 

You fluster a bit at the compliment, a break from the typical coffee shop dialogue you were prepared for, but James wraps a friendly arm around your waist and beams right back at her. 

“She’s got great taste, doesn’t she?” he asks, and you manage to cast a quick thanks over your shoulder as he steers you back to the table. “See, it’s not just me that thinks you look especially pretty today.” 

“Oh, hush,” you say, taking your seat and looking down to stir your drink bashfully. “What’d you order?” 

“Irish cream latte. Limited edition, apparently.” 

“So, the sweetest thing on the menu.” 

The smile spreads on James’ face. It ebbs and flows like the tide, you think, never really leaving. “You know me so well.” 

The warmth in his voice makes your chest feel hollow and achy. James goes to such lengths to do nice things for you, to show you that he pays attention and thinks about you and cares, and yet when it comes to you he’s left settling for whatever scraps of affection he can get. 

“James…” Your tone reveals your shift in mood instantly, and James’ head straightens the way a dog’s ears perk when it hears something alarming. “You know I want to take things slow, right?” 

He nods, and when he speaks his voice is considerately softer. “Yeah, you’ve said. Do you think we’re—I’m moving things too fast right now?” 

“No, just,” you wet your lips, having some trouble looking at his face, “I don’t know, I feel like I’m not being as good as you deserve. You’re such a sweet person, and I think…sometimes I feel like maybe you’d be happier dating someone who could be more all-in. You know?” 

For a second, the silence is torture. Then: “Someone you’re trying to set me up with, sweetheart?” 

You look up in surprise, but James is smiling again. Softer, now. Almost tentative. You find yourself mirroring him reflexively. 

His knee bumps yours under the table. “I don’t mind moving slowly with you,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “Because you seem like you’re ready for more.” And I don’t know if I can manage that yet. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He takes your hand in his, and his eyes are soft, sweet caramel. He looks almost like he could love you. “If I’m coming on too strong, you can tell me, but I care about you. It’s hard for me not to be all-in, but that doesn’t mean I’m expecting the same thing from you. You seem like a sane, well-adjusted person.” James nods seriously. “Something I could use, I’ve been told.” He tries to keep the poker face when you grin, but fails in half a second. 

“Okay.” You give his hand a little squeeze. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“I won’t,” he says certainly. “I always go for the sweetest thing on the menu, remember?” 

You take your hand back to cover your face, and James’ laughter echoes off the walls. 

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Broken Headsets PT 2

-Chan

Warning: A lot of Angst.

Pairing: BangChan x reader.

Summary: where he snaps at you while working.

!Not proofread!

**

“Baby I’m so sorry, please open up the door.” Chan’s voice echoes through the door and into the bathroom.

My knees against my chest as I was calming down from a panic attack. The sleeves on my sweater now dump from all the tears it was sucking up.

“G-go away” I cry louder. My body shaking and my salty tears freely running down my hot face.

“I don’t…I don’t want to talk to you right now!”

“Babe I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean to snap like that. Just let me talk to you. Let me hold you. I’m worried. Your going to have another panic attack”

“BangChan leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.” I throw whatever was in my reach at the wooden door. Making him jump on the other side of the door. Now HE couldn’t hold back his tears. He wanted to be able to sort it out because he genuinely didn’t mean to snap Or cause anyone pain.

“Okay I’ll give you some time my love, please don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry.” His voice now low and quiet. I had no response because I was so angry and so hurt by him.

I wasn’t being dramatic right?

The sound of his footsteps disappear down the hall making me quickly but softly wipe my tears away and get up to wash my face. The cold water making my body shiver. I stare at myself. Hair up in a bun, eyes red and eye bags deep from all the lack of sleep. A fucking mess.

The front door slamming was what made me jump getting me out of the trance I was in. Had he left? I pick up the container that was on the ground due to the fact I threw it and open the bathroom door.

I find Berry sat in-front of it as if waiting for me. I give her a soft smile and pick her up.

Walking through the house looking for any sign of Chan but there was none.

I glance at the clock and it read 12:45. Anger rises up my chest once again because how dare he leave the house at this hour knowing how much anxiety I have when his out late? Such a selfish bastard!

Get home.

I send him a text and switch off my phone to look around. A mess the house was.

“Shall we clean up Berry?” I look at the dog in my hands who didn’t even seem to be bothered by anything. “I swear I talk to you more than I talk to Chan” a chuckle leaves my lips when she starts licking my face.

“Now come on let’s get started.” I place her down and pick up things and put them away. My body needing the distraction but my mind and thoughts running at a speed of lightning.

Emotions running through “my mind and soul”. Cringe lol.

2:30 am.

The sound of the clock ticking was starting to irritate me and craw under my skin.

Worry slowly crawling up my chest. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he okay? Where could he be?

I hated myself for putting my self through this because after the little stunt he pulled causing me to sit in the bathroom crying my heart out for 2 hours begging for someone to come save me. I was still sat in our living at 2:30 am waiting and wondering where he had gone too.

Did he leave me? Surely he hadn’t cause all his stuff was still here.

My feet slowly taps the floor, something I do when I’m nervous. I tag on my sweater which is now stretched out due to the constant pulling. The material laying between my fingers feeling very satisfying.

“Why do you have to do this to me Chan?” I say softly, talking to myself.

The house was quiet once again like I’m used too.

The lights were off except for his studio room led lights that were on and passing through the glass window.

Berry was now sat on my lap cuddling me because I knew she sensed the stress my body was going through. She always just knew and she always tried to cuddle of just play around whenever Chan or I where going through something.

A sigh leaves my lips. I was tired. I needed sleep but I needed to know if he was safe.

I check my phone to see if he had responded but nothing came through and when I was about to set down the phone it stars to buzz making me jolt up. Han’s name pops up with a picture of me and him when we were at an adventure park in Japan.

I quickly pick up the phone hoping that somehow Chan was with him and they were doing some project.

“Hello?” My voice rough but still soft from all the crying.

“Hey baby.” He says softly from the other end of the phone.

“Hey..”

“Are you doing okay?” He asks, I could hear the nervous tone in his voice.

“Mhm” a hum in response.

“Channie Hyung is with us in the dorms okay? He showed up here really upset so we told him to just stay over until everything is calm,”

I feel my heart break into pieces. Was he really that upset that he didn’t want to stay in the same home as me? He knew how I hated when he didn’t sleep at home.

“Oh, okay that’s alright. Thank you for letting me know,” I tell him. A weigh being lifted off my shoulder because now that I knew he was safe I could sleep or so I thought.

After hanging up the phone. I slowly put Berry aside and cleanup the cold plate that’s till say on the table and decide to finish up the dishes.

The scent of soap filling my nostrils and a warm liquid running down my face. Tears.

Who would have thought that I would be here at the age of 25 doing dishes at 2 am while crying.

My vision was blurry and my legs were weak. My heart beating fast as I could hear it in my ears.

My face was hot and my body trembled from the heart aching sobs that left it.

I couldn’t be under this much stress.

It wasn’t good for the baby.

**

Pt 1 ⬇️

[flem17ng]

It’s a date.

UCLA! jessie fleming x reader

summary: reader starts her first semester at UCLA and meets bruins midfielder, jessie fleming.

content: fluff, short one-shot. author has no knowledge of the American education system.

The first day of university was always going to be hard. New people, new campus, new lecturers and new classes all together. Maybe it was the fact you’d never been this far from home before that made it worse. 

UCLA was your dream school. Quite literally. You remeber looking at the university website back when you where in middle school and imagining yourself there: kicking a ball in the oval, studying in a library, laps in the big pools. the feeling of actually being here was… overwhelming. 

Like all eighteen year olds do, you had launched yourself into this thing head first: packed bags, kissed your dog goodbye and hopped on the plane. And like most eighteen year olds , you where now struck with the intensity of your actions. 

Here you where, miles from home, no connections in the state, standing outside the lecture theatre for your first class. So yes, overwhelming would be the word of choice. 

You looked down at your timetable for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last minute, checking and triple checking that you had got the room right. 

“Environmental Studies: Spheres 101”. The name of the course seemed to taunt you at you stared at it blankly. 

Leave it to you to go to one of the most prestigious sports schools in the world, (doing very minimal sport yourself) and end up doing a course all about what? Water, earth, wind and fire?

You knew it was more important than that of course. You picked environmental engineering for a reason: because you cared about that sort of stuff! 

You took a long breath readying to walk in when-

“Oh shit I am so sorry! God I was not looking where I was going!” The thump in your shoulder didn’t knock you quite as off balance as the thick Canadian accent. You froze for a moment, not knowing whether to be pissed at this stranger’s clumsiness or charmed but the voice that reminded you of home. Your eyes flashed up to meet the source of the voice and decided to be charmed. 

Her eyes where the first thing you noticed: large and brown and…. well charming you suposed. Every other part of the girls face fell neatly into place behind those eyes: perfect, warm and adorned with a lopsided and slightly guilty smile. 

It was then that you realised you hadn’t responded. 

“Oh no don’t worry. I was distracted myself” you rushed out, words melding into a lump as they rushed to get passed your lips. It was worth it as you watched the girls guilt melt away into an easier grin. 

“Another Canadian! I thought I was going to be alone here you know” she laughed “I don’t think I would have survived”. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the other girls  relief. “God same! I’m already off kilter over here”

“Eh. we’ll muddle through” she grinned back giving an animated wink before looking back at the door you where still loitering before. 

“Might need to…” she trailed off at motioned with her chin to the door. 

“Right right yes! I don’t want to be late to learn about the spheres of the environment” you drawled sarcastically. The girl rolled her eyes in agreement. 

“Right!? when I saw that on my timetable I couldn’t believe it! I swear I learned this in 9th grade”. 

“American’s eh?” you tut with a playful smile. God you hoped none of the resident americans would over hear you. 

The girl (you realised you didn’t yet know her name) laughed loudly, her teeth flashing handsomely (Looking at her you realised that “handsome” was a pretty accurate diagnosis: broad shoulders, a freakishly athletic build, sharp jawline. Yes, handsome was the word). Together you walked forward into the lecture hall, thankfully not late before parting ways: her going to sit next to a few other athletic looking girls with tight ponytails, and you going to sit near the front (curse your poor eyesight). 

~

To be brutally honest, after that little interaction, you almost completely forgot about the handsome canadian girl with charming eyes from your environmental engineering course. Almost. You saw her about a few times: in the distance on the playing field, walking around campus. But you hadn’t really talked to her since that first class at the beginning of semester. Everytime you got into class she was already there, sitting next to the Bruins girls, pen in hand, with deadly focus. 

You reasoned that it would be impolite to interrupt her, it would be nosy to try join her little group and it would be downright stalkerish to try track her down across campus. 

Not to mention the university work that was flooding in… it was not stopping for anything, that’s for sure, definitely not your strange hang up over a girl you had one interaction with. 

Your reasoning for this preoccupation was simply that you missed home: Canada seemed so far away especially as the weather only got warmer. This girl was simply a reminder that the faraway moose land was real! Additionally, maybe your brain got confused: a kind interaction plus the familiar Canadian accent equals weird unreasonable attachment. 

You shook your head and tried to refocus your eyes in the screen in front of you. You had been staring at the blank document you so long that your head had started to ache and the hot chocolate you bought before you sat down was now definitely cold. The cafe was one of those tiny ones with maybe three indoor tables and a booming espresso machine that took up most of the counter space by the cash register and drowned out the soft music echoing from the speakers. 

You had found it during the second week of semester and now frequented it most afternoons to try and crank out as many assignments as possible. Routine was important, you must understand that. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temple before being rudely startled by a tap of the shoulder. 

“Jeezus! give a girl some warning please!” you snapped before looking up at the offender. Brown eyes stared back at you filled with an amused glint. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this” she laughed. The same laugh that showed off her handsome features and warm glow. 

“Oh hey! It’s um… you!” it wasn’t meant to sound like a stutter but it came out that way anyways. 

“Jessie” she smiled softly, catching your fumble “Jessie Fleming? We have some lectures together?” 

“Yes no! I remember sorry. I just didn’t catch your name” you rambled, feeling suddenly very foolish. She patted your shoulder to pull you out of the spiral. 

“I know. I’m just messing” she sat down in the seat opposite you with a sigh. 

It was then that you really looked at her. She looked very much the same as she had the first time apart from a few key things: her hair was shorter (sitting just above her shoulders whereas before it had hung in a long plat down her back) and her left eye seemed strangely swollen and purple. 

“Um… get into a fight Fleming?” you asked, indicating to her, now obvious, black eye. To your surprise she laughed!

“Oh this old thing! No just a bad tackle during soccer practice” she grinned, poking the swollen lid with a dramatic wince. 

“Soccer… OH! Oh it makes sense now” you lean back in your chair and look at her like you had only just noticed her properly. 

“Fleming! 21! bruins midfielder! God I never made the connection!” you laughed, feeling stupid. Maybe if you had payed more attention to the sport at your SPORT university, you would have found out her name sooner. 

“Oh hush. It’s really nothing” she muttered looking embarrassed. 

“No, shut up Fleming. No it isn’t! I heard a girl in the library talking about your goal in a match a few weeks ago! Boy I know jack shit about sport but I know it was impressive” you hissed back eagerly. 

“No really-“

“Take the damn compliment Jessie”

“Fine! Thank you” she smiled awkwardly with a role of her eyes “It was a pretty good goal I guess”

You smiled and watched her for a long moment as she settled into the seat fully. Your eyes followed her perfect nose, flickered up to her eyebrows before coming to rest at her lips. How could someone look that good so effortlessly?

“Staring is rude” she stated bluntly, as her lips curled into a smirk. You looked away with a jerk, cheeks flaming. 

“I- I was not!”

“Okay…”

“I wasn’t staring! You soccer types, always so big headed!” you mumble, crossing your arms across your chest. You felt childish: of course you had been staring! God how silly that this girl, Jessie, thought you could hold back from staring at her! You’re only human after all. 

“I-“ Jessie started to speak but cut herself off, her mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Yes?”

“I might be out of play for a few weeks. Concussion protocols and all that but… well stop me if this is too forward but, I’d love for you to come to a game? One of my games I mean” her question ended in a rush before she leaned back from the table with big curious eyes. You stared back, dumbfounded. It took a shake of your head to get you to respond. 

“You want me to come to a bruins game?”

“Uhh. Yes?”

“You know I don’t know anything about soccer?”

“I did assume that, yes.”

“But you want me there?”

“Yes.” her tone was soft but firm, determined. “I want you to come to a game please. To watch me play? Or we can watch it together if I’m still out for injury?”

You laugh and clap a hand over your mouth. 

“Are you asking me on a date Jessie Fleming?” you spit out, feeling suddenly emboldened by the other girls flustered expression. Jessie’s cheeks only became redder at your sudden inquiry. 

“Yes please?” came her hopeful squeak. 

You grinned and leaned over the table, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, just under her bruised eye, before sitting back in one swift movement. 

“Ok. But you’re going to have to let me wear your jersey 21. Oh, and explain the offside rule.”

Jessie groaned, but her pink cheeks gave her away. 

“Fine. It’s a date.” 

[goatcheesecak3]

Sleepyheads

Adam Stanheight x F!reader (ft. Scott Tibbs)

fic type: fluff

warnings: alcohol

summary: your boyfriend, Adam comes home from a night of Drinking with his best friend, Scott, and it's up to you to babysit them.

Dating Adam Stanheight was an interesting experience, to put it in simple terms. You’d known him as a friend for a while, and in that time he was a rather loud and lairy character, never not out raising hell with his best friend, Scott Tibbs. However, one night after attending a show together, Adam had crashed at your apartment. One on one, he was more gentle, his rough edges seemed sanded down and soft to the touch. It was like a dog that always has it’s hackles up letting you stroke it for the first time. Ever since you’d seen that side of Adam, you’d had a soft spot for him, and he you. It wasn’t long after that that the two of you started dating.

A few months down the road, Adam had invited you to come to one of Scott’s gigs, but feeling groggy from working late the night before, you instead opted to stay home and get an early night. It had been agreed that once the gig was over, Adam would come round to sleep at your apartment, since you lived closer and it saved money for a taxi. Which brings us up to speed.

Curled up in bed, you heard the front door to your apartment open, followed by heavy inconsiderate footsteps from large black boots. A pair of ebrious voices cackled at something, before one of them blurted out

“yo, seriously, Adam, you hit the jackpot with y/n, I mean, look at how nice this place is”

It would have appeared that Adam had brought Scott along with him.

You were never Scott’s biggest fan, but you had to admit, that comment made you smile. Scott wasn’t the type to be complimentary, especially when it came to the matter of his friends having partners. He thought guys went all soft and stopped being fun once they got into relationships, so it was a surprise to hear him say that his best friend of all time had “hit the jackpot” with you, even if it was just because you had a nice home.

“I’m telling you, dude, she’s the best. Always got like, snacks and shit for me, it always smells nice in here and- man, feel how soft this couch is” you heard Adam respond, accompanied by two hefty thuds as their bodies hit the sofa, followed by some sleepy and satisfied groans at how comfy the sofa was on their tired bones.

You decided that, as much as this was entertaining, you’d never get to sleep if you let those idiots stay up all night testing out your furniture, so instead you did what you knew best: babysit drunk punk guys until they fall asleep. You headed down the hall into the living room where Adam immediately rose to his feet excitedly, grabbing you and pulling you into a drunken embrace.

“y/n! I missed you, baby- aw shit did we wake you up? I’m sorry, baby I jus-” you interrupted him with a peck on the lips, he had a tendency to ramble when he was drunk.

“It’s fine, babe” you tuned your attention towards Scott (who appeared to be prodding a basket of potpourri that sat on your coffee table, clearly he had no idea what the hell it was), “Scott, do you wanna stay here tonight? You don’t look sober enough to walk home”

“see dude! I told you she’d be okay with it, isn’t y/n just the best” Adam grinned excitedly, squeezing your waist and swaying a little to keep his balance.

“Thanks, y/n” Scott said, his tone far more upbeat than you were used to. “y’know, I’m glad you’re dating Adam. I guess you’re  kinda cool- and Adam’s way less of an uptight asshole now that he’s getting laid”

Adam kicked Scott’s shins as you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. That was the closest you’d ever gotten to a compliment from Scott.

“You boys just sit down for a minute, alright? I’ll go see if I’ve got any microwave pizzas or something to help you sober up” you said, helping a very inebriated and clumsy Adam back onto the sofa. He sort of toppled onto Scott, and you could hear the pair of them giggling like schoolboys about something or other as you made your way to the kitchen.

Adam and Scott had been best friends since they were 5 years old, and that was clear to anyone who spent any amount of time in the same room as them. Separately, Adam was quite reserved and Scott was aloof and a bit miserable, but together they were like happy little children. As you watched two mini pizzas turning around in the microwave, it was hard for you to picture to punk guys in their mid twenties drinking beer and talking about boobs sitting on your sofa, when the sound of their childlike sniggering and petty teasing rung throughout the apartment. It was sweet, in a way.

After a few minutes had passed, you brought out the two pizzas on a plate ready to hand to them, only to be met with an adorable sight. Both men were passed out, Scott’s head thrown back snoring loudly, his arm around Adam, who had been resting his head on Scott’s chest. They were out cold.

You placed the plate on the coffee table for them to discover in the morning, and pulled an old blanket over the sleepy friends. You stopped to take in the sweet moment, before picking up Adam’s camera and snapping a quick picture to embarrass them with at some point. Then, finally you headed to bed and got some well deserved rest.

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

FOUR - she’s a cute one [written + pictures]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WARNINGS: none :)

ah yes, who knew you’d spend the afternoon of your work day walking down to jake’s expensive ass mansion. no seriously, jake was loaded with money.

oh sorry, I meant Mr.Sim was loaded with money. as you can tell, he is your boss and CEO of the company. you never bothered to ever address him by Mr.Sim though. why? simply because the both of you are the same age. it truly was a funny story on how you landed this job. being his secretary.

-

you remember the day where you bumped into him and spilled your coffee onto his shirt. god, you remember scrambling to help him and wipe off the stain off his like $1000 coat. actually, you were already late to like an interview (at his company but you didn’t know he was the CEO)

“it’s alright. you don’t have to apologise.” the man before you says.

“no no, i’m sorry. I spilt coffee on you and your coat. it looks expensive. though I probably can’t afford to buy you a new one, maybe I could pay for dry-cleaning?”

He laughs. No seriously, he laughs at you. He found you sort of cute to think that you could pay for the dry cleaning of his expensive coat. It was a one of a kind coat and there was only one in the world. Specifically tailored for him but you didn’t know and he wasn’t a rich snobby guy.

“It’s really okay. It’s just a little coffee and you were a little clumsy. This happens the most of us. Just be careful next time, alright?”

“But I need to repay you in some way-” he hands you a business card.

“If you feel really bad then maybe you could eventually repay me by getting coffee together.”

You bowed a couple of times to apologise to him and then went straight to the interview. The same one he would attend since he so happens to be looking for a secretary at the time. This stunned the both of you a little when you noticed each other in the room. Jake was even quicker to also announced you would be his new secretary and that caused jay and another staff to look at him in shock.

“What? Is it wrong to want her to be my secretary?” Jake tilts his head.

“Mr.Sim, we barely started the interview.-”

“And? She definitely looks qualified. Maybe a little clumsy but she definitely can get it after a couple of times.”

“Sir-” jay stops the other staff.

“Alright then Mr.Sim, if you wanna do it. Go ahead.”

The memories…and now here you are. watching Layla running around with a tennis ball in her mouth. she places it on the ground in front of you and nudges you to throw it. you were surprised she warmed up to you instantly because you heard it took a while for jay to even convince her to eat the food he placed on her bowl.

you threw the ball and Layla runs over to grab it. she barks and happily catches it. she then runs over to where you were and flopped in front of you. she rolls over so her belly was exposed. you gave her a good belly rub and she enjoys it. maybe this wasn’t so bad, layla was a good dog so she definitely would be obedient with you. now, all you had to focus on was getting some actual work done.

you were still jake’s secretary after all. hence, you took out jake’s iPad and went to fix up his schedule for tomorrow. you scanned through and added everything important, called to make sure the clients would actually be present in the next week’s meeting. you just continued working. then, a message pops up.

it was jake, asking if he could see a picture of layla. you happily snapped a picture. however, you quickly realised what you had just sent after texting him that picture was just creating more work for yourself and now you were screwed.

a/n: rip you. I am also hoping that the pictures and texts don’t mess up bc the last time I did it, I could not edit the chapter and it wouldn’t save😵‍💫

taglist[open]: @svarcq @useraerin @ajayke-reads @peachysunooooo @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @lunakua @bubblytaetae @aureliaxuuu @nikiluvr16 @sngvhs @watermelon-sugars-things @bldelaine @enhaz1 @yeoungie @heart4hees @mimimovv @enczen @enhastolemyheart @woon2u @kyanmeai @4townn @skzenhalove @s00buwu @ce1ight @markleepooh @sparklingsjy @rizzshimura @bluxjun

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[toalloftheboysivelovedbefore]

Graveside Letters #5 J.D.B.

October 27, 2024

My Most Darling Love,

I’m sorry that it took so long for me to come and visit. I meant to be here on Friday, but I got some sort of stomach flu and was sick as a dog. I still want you more than anything when I don’t feel weak — whether it’s a migraine, my period, or the stomach flu…every time I want to climb into your arms. It was a lonely day, Friday. Being alone and being sick like that tends to make my head go to bad places.

I was going to bring you flowers again today — the little white ones in the garden like the ones your mom grew in hers. I want to visit her. I miss her — her and your dad both. It’s just too difficult though. I can’t. And I feel terrible for that. You are a perfect amalgamation of their features and yet it is not you. Sometimes I feel like I failed them. They took me in, they loved me in a way no one ever had, then we lost you and I disappeared. How selfish am I?

I brought Starbucks this morning so that we could have our Sunday morning coffee. The park is swarming with kids today and an absolutely previous AYSO soccer game is running. You would be delighted. I have been thinking about it a lot lately. Maybe it’s good that we never tried to have kids. we already knew that I had some fertility problems and I cannot imagine the pain of starting that process proccess process (I wrote that word two ways and neither looked right but Google said that I had it correct the first time) and going through the inevitable disappointment , the probable pain, the chance of miscarriage, only to lose you in the end. I’m barely surviving as it is. I can’t imagine adding that to the mix. I am surviving though. I think you’d be proud of me for that.

We’re approaching the holiday season and I’m dreading it — Thanksgiving, our anniversary, Christmas, so many big days that I am going to have to get through without you. The dark days will be here in a week from today and I can’t look forward to you coming in here door and greeting you with soup that we can snuggle up and eat while we work through whatever TV series we are in the midst of now. It’s finally cold enough that Amos needs his sweatshirt. I always forget how cute her looks in it until I put him in it every year. He gets extra tappy. I still call him that — Tappy Toes. I hear it in your voice when I say it though. They miss you. They’ve been extra clingy, even for them.

I’m thinking about going to stay with my parents for a while. The house is too empty. I’m too sad, too lonely. I could use some extra love and maybe a meal or two. I’m losing weight. I see it in my face and when I look in the mirror. My clothes fit a little more loosely. I’m trying to eat,I really am. And drink water, before you ask, ha. I miss waking up to a glass of water on my nightstand before you left for work. It was such a small gesture but it meant so much. I wish I had told you that more. You’re the one that caught me when I fell and the reason I’m falling now is because you’ll never catch me again.

Can I tell you something extraordinarily selfish? G.A.D and his husband are having marriage problems and a dark, twisted part of me hopes they don’t stay together so maybe G.A.D. and I could get a place together and grieve. He’s my best friend and I don’t actually wish that at all. I’m just so fucking sad and lonely and I want someone to sit with me in my grief.

Things are just so difficult, my love. I don’t want to do this without you and I have no choice but to figure it out.

I hope it’s beautiful, wherever you are. I hope you get to snuggle Oliver all of the time. I had o give you up for you to get him back. I’m not sure about the fairness of that trade, but it makes me smile when the going gets tough that you have him.

One last thing — I know you always joked that when we got married, you wanted to take my last name because it was better, but I really wanted yours. Just so you know.

I love you infinitely. Endlessly. Ceaselessly.

Love,

Your Sunshine

[katlover14]

Sorry

(Cw: personal rant. I just need to write it down and vent a bit. Please don’t read if you don’t want to)

I forgot to draw earlier today for October stuff.

I’ll try and do days two and three tomorrow.

But today… I got stuck at my second cousin’s son’s second birthday. If that’s confusing: I went to a birthday party for a two year old that’s the son of my dad’s cousin. Still confusing? I’m not dumbing it down further than that.

It’s almost midnight.

I’m tired.

They had a cat that clawed my leg, but it’s fine because he was so small, fluffy, cute, and let me pet and hold him.

We were at that house until almost nine and then had to feed and take my dad’s new puppies outside to potty, which took another hour.

I love the dogs, even though I prefer cats, but I had things I wanted to do today that I put off until it was too late.

I don’t even feel like doodling something real quick because it just hit me that I might not be able to take my cat to my dad’s when I fully move in with him.

I wanna cry, but I think I’m just tired so I refuse to make my headache worse.

I don’t want to leave my cat at my mom’s.

I don’t want to worry about her daily if I leave her there.

But I refuse to live in a stressful household.

I’ll need to ask my dad about my cat tomorrow.

But, tonight, I’ll just get as much sleep as I can get while stressing about whether or not I want to go back to my mom’s for just one last week.

My mom’s not the problem. Someone else is, but I’m afraid to tell her because I don’t want her feeling regret for how things ended up.

My cat was the only gift from one of my aunt’s that I remember receiving (my aunt’s alive, btw).

I love my cat more than I love drawing!

But I can’t stand the idea of staying in that house just to be with her.

I want to have my cat and have a mother-daughter relationship with my mom, but I don’t want the stress that comes with that house.

I have a hard time sleeping there.

I’m sorry for this post. There’s a lot going on in my head that I don’t know what to do with. So I did one of the things I’m best at: I wrote about it.

I don’t think I want to give more context or say who it is that’s bringing me so much stress.

If I wanted to do that, I’d make that person a villain in my stories.

Most wouldn’t find the things they’ve done to me as bad enough to cause stress, but those people haven’t lived it.

I know there’s worse.

I’m grateful I don’t have the worst.

There’s still something bad, though, and I’m tired of tolerating it for my mom, my siblings, and my cat.

I had a hard time falling asleep last night because I’m used to going back to my mom’s place on a schedule, so I guess I was mentally preparing myself to go back to sleepless nights and constant fights.

It’s not fun.

None of it was a game to me.

It hurt (it wasn’t anything sexual. Sorry I wrote it that way. Just mental stuff, mostly).

I hate being bit and pulled around, hugged and held against my own will even when I ask to be let go.

Having to scream for my mom just to be let go hurts me mentally more than physically.

Asking them to leave me alone when I’m having a mental breakdown, being told I’d be left alone, only to have the person that caused the breakdown to try and rub my back is not what I want.

I’m not a dog toy.

I’m a mentally unstable person that doesn’t know what she wants to do in life because she’s lost interest or doesn’t want to go through another year of math and English for no reason.

I want to write without the degree.

I want to paint, but hate the process.

I want to draw, but have no desk, so I sit weird on my bed, which gives me headaches.

I want to dance, but I’m always tired.

There’s something incomplete in my brain but I don’t know what it is (other than my frontal lobe. It’s not fully formed yet) and definitely need neurodivergent test of some sort to find out.

I’ve got childhood trauma that relates to my TikTok fyp more than I’d like to admit.

I want my cat to be with me so I stop worrying about her getting hit by a car (my dog died that way in 2020 and I’ve been paranoid since).

I want my gecko back (froze/starved to death in 2020. Not my fault. I told my mom she needed a better heat lamp. Mom didn’t listen).

I want my dog back.

I want my Guinea Pig back (mom gave her to a different aunt, who didn’t know Guinea Pigs can die of heatstroke).

I want my best friend to come home or at least text me back (I don’t understand why she’s ghosting me for something unrelated to me).

So much that I want that I can’t have.

I’m sorry this is so long. I needed to vent.

…

I hate venting.

It makes me feel guilty.

I don’t like talking about myself.

I feel selfish knowing things could be worse, but yet feel like I talk as if what I’m going through is terrible.

This isn’t a sewer-slide (I can’t remember if Tumblr censors things) post.

I can’t handle the idea of ending things permanently over a temporary problem. It scares me.

I know that if things do get bad enough to have those thoughts, I won’t be able to pull myself out like 6 year old me did just by thinking of how much I’d miss out on if I’d never existed.

Scary, but wonderful how that was all I had to think about at such a young age to stop the dark thoughts. Wonderful how much better of a mental state I had back then, even though it was seriously declining and was obvious I wasn’t doing great.

…

It’s midnight now.

I’m genuinely sorry if you read all this.

I didn’t mean for it to get this long or go into so much detail.

TMI, I guess.

[minwooks-moved]

haaaay pls rank your favorite golcha eras but based on concept only hehe 😙

helloooooo dear <3 i have a hard time picking favesies no matter what so like . 🧍‍♀️

fave golcha eras (currently) :: pump it up > wish > game changer > gol-cha! > yes. > take a leap > goldenness ( > re-boot > without you > miracle > aura > ddara ) 💞

🌸 ask me…….

[theshelbyclan]

Love Language

Summary: Tommy doesn’t say ‘I love you’.

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​)

A/N: Sweet anon asked: Hello i love you're writing! Can i request a tommy one shot imagine where the reader (his girlfriend or wife) finds out in his office, one of the locked drawers has everytning shes ever given to him? Maybe like love letters or random flowers everything he keep 😍🤍 thank you so mych. This request was so amazing to me, because you it made me feel like you understand this character so well? Either way, it made me think, and this is the result. It’s kinda different but I hope you like it! Words: 1448

***

“Tommy?” “Hmm,” the preoccupied reply came. You sounded defeated, against your best efforts, “I love you.”  “I know.” 

***

There’s blood on his shirt. It’s the first thing you noticed when he walked in. Not the mud, not his eyes, not his energy, just the blood on his shirt.

“Who’s is it,” you asked as casually as you could. Tommy lit a cigarette in reply. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” he drew out the ‘s’ like he usually did when annoyed or tired. “Who was it?” you continued. “Y/N,” he held up a hand, “not tonight, eh? Not with the hundred fucking questions tonight, alright?” You remained silent for as long as you could bear, “Just need to know you’re safe.” “You knew who you married,” a low voice replied. “I did.” Tommy stood up again slowly started to walk away.

“Do not,” you hissed, “walk away from me.” “Y/N, what the fuck do you want from me, eh?” he raised his voice, “This is me. This is who I am. And I’m doing it all to give you everything you want. To keep you safe. Alright?” You leaned forward and tried to lock eyes with him, “What I want, Thomas Shelby, is you. In one piece, preferably.” “I know,” he lowered his voice again, “And I understand.” He waved a hand like he was about to say more, but didn’t. “It’s because I love you,” you emphasized. He nodded slowly, “And that’s why I’m doing all of this.”

***

You were sitting at your desk writing. Some people seemed to think that being married to Tommy Shelby was a fulltime job and it could be if you’d let it, but not for you. Even before Tommy you’d been a writer, a journalist and an author of short stories. Neatly you typed them out and send them to the publishers in question. It was the one thing in life that always offered you solace.

“You spelled ‘enthusiastic’ wrong,” you husband commented helpfully after having popped up suddenly behind you. You ripped the page irritably, “Says the man who never even went to school.” “Life taught me how to spell, Y/N,” he sort of joked. “Life taught youhow to spell ‘enthusiastic’? Can’t remember the last time you were ever enthusiastic about anything…” He raised one eyebrow slowly, “How about ‘sarcasm’, can you spell that? Or ‘devil’, how about that, eh?” You pouted theatrically, “Sometimes I’m not even sure you take me and my work seriously…” “Oh, I take it seriously,” Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, “I know it’s enough to keep my wife away from me.” You smiled back at him when he did, but still a pang of hurt went through you: you’d give up everything just to have him say ‘I’m so proud of you sweetheart’. Just once.

***

“Come on,” he whispered. You looked up. “Come on,” he repeated, cigarette hanging from his lips, “let’s go upstairs.” “Why?” you asked, as you already started to follow him. Once inside the bedroom, he started undressing you with surprising tenderness. “Tommy,” you breathed, “look at me. What is it you want?” As a reply without words he gazed at your body, like he was drinking in very detail and getting drunk at the mere sight of it. “You and me, Tommy,” you said in between kisses, “remember it’s you and me. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck your family. Fuck the whole world. I love you and you love me. It’s you and me and nothing can ever come between us, right?” As he took off his own shirt, he gently pushed you down onto the bed.

“You and me, right Tommy?” you repeated, a little breathless as his head disappeared between your legs. “No,” he finally spoke, “you.”

*** Thomas Shelby had a long day of dealing with renegade family and dangerous enemies, so when he got back home, all he wanted was his wife and some peace and quiet.

“I cooked,” you said as you lingered against the doorpost. Tommy looked tired, worn-out, dead almost, with his head in his hands, “even told the cook to take the evening off,” you commented while your voice sounded flat. It was funny, because your emotions were all over the place, but your exterior just didn’t show any of it.

He slowly lifted his head, “You did, eh?” “Thought you might like it…” you fidgeted in spite of yourself. “I pay that cook for her to actually fucking cook,” he grumbled. “Fine,” you snapped, “I’ll feed it to the dog,” and you started to walk away. “Wait…” “What?” You didn’t even really turn around. Tommy sighed again and for a moment it was like he noticed the disappointment in your eyes, “What did you cook?” “Mint leaves. Your favourite.” And then a minor miracle took place and Tommy Shelby actually smiled a little.

***

“You were late today. I waited.” “I’m sorry.” “Are you?” “I am.” “Do you love me?” “Yes.” “Tell me.” “I do. Every day.” “Not with words…” “No, not with words.” “Tommy, tell me again.” ***

You were still half-asleep in Tommy’s arms. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. Outside, the sun wasn’t up yet, but it wouldn’t take long now.

Next to you, there was a gun on the table. Tommy had just taught you how to shoot. He’d shown you over and over again, even though you’d protested. But he said you might need it one day. On the other side there were his cigarettes and whiskey. His medicine. His comfort. His eyes were closed and his breath was steady. But for how long? How long would it be until he’d die by his own gun, or get killed in some fight? Or met some other girl, prettier and smarter than you? As if he could read your insecurities, he shifted in his sleep and hugged you even closer to him. Thomas Shelby might not be perfect or a gentleman or eloquent when it came to expressing his love, but he did hold you at night.

***

“Tommy?” you shouted out through the house, “THOMAS!” “Fucking hell, woman,” his head appeared around the corner, “What is it?” Slightly embarrassed by your own volume, you said, “I can’t find the scissors.” “They’re in my desk somewhere,” he put on his cap and added, “I need to see a man about a horse. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” You made your way to the desk that was always so tidy and neat. So you did as any sensible woman would do and turned over everything in search of a pair of scissors. Nothing. Angrily you threw down a pile of papers. And that’s when you noticed it. One drawer hadn’t been opened at all. When you tried it, you found it locked. But you were a girl from Small Heath and no locked drawer could stop you. In less than twenty seconds you had managed to force the lock en slid the secret hiding place open. Inside there were more papers, neatly stacked and tied together with pieces of string in different piles. Breathlessly you took them from the drawer and examined them one by one. “Still looking for those scissors, eh?” a low voice grumbled in your ear and you practically jumped from fear. “For fuck’s sake, Thomas,” you mumbled as you tried to hide the papers you’d just found. Tommy was eyeing them already, but didn’t say a word.

So you went back through them, “These are the letters I wrote to you, when you were in France. I thought you threw away everything. Your medals, everything…” He didn’t reply. Tears sprang into your eyes as you examined the second pile, “And these are all my short stories. Did you cut them from the papers? Did you really keep them all?” You quickly went through them and they were all there, from the very first one ever published, “And these, my articles…”

Tommy cleared his throat once and cast his eyes down when you looked at him. Lastly there was a small box. When you opened it, you found, “The rose I wore, when we were kids. The one my brother stole…” And now you couldn’t find the words, “I hardly… I didn’t even know you… back then. Why?” Tommy grabbed his case and started searching for a cigarette. “Tommy,” you insisted, “I had no idea. Why did you keep all of these?” “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he smirked lightly. You stared at the content of the secret drawer and decided that nothing was ever obvious when it came to Thomas Shelby. “Well?” you questioned. “I love you.”

*** Masterlist

[chocosvt]

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you. 

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not. 

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But  this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes,  as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[  9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than  fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was  able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout  sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,”  you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

[skinnyducky]

made for you // v.h.

hello.. im sorry i havent been posting. school has been keeping me busy but i wanted to post this. this idea comes from @yelenasdarling so thank you ! i recommend listening to halley’s comet by billie eilish (as well as the whole album) bc that’s the song that is being discussed in this (as well as many others), so yuh. enjoy ! and i promise i haven’t forgotten about party @ y/ns !

vinnie hacker x singer!fem!reader

Word Count: 1408, edited

WARNING: MAJOR FLUFF LUV

---------

As the year was coming to an end, so was your debut album. For months, you’d been working with the best producers, musicians, and doing endless promo for this album and within a few days, you’d be playing it for the label. Obviously because it is your first record, you’re protective over it. No one had heard it besides the people working on it. So, you were a bit nervous to let your pleading boyfriend, Vinnie, tag along to the studio with you.

It was Friday, and you two had been chilling in his room when your producer, Sarah, said she needed you to go over it before the label meeting. As you bid your goodbyes to Vinnie, informing him of the reason for your departure, he pouted. “Why can’t I come?” he nearly cried, giving you his puppy dog eyes. Because you couldn’t resist them—and you just can’t say “no” to him—you allowed him to come.

Now here the two of you were, in the studio and listening to Sarah go on and on about how long it took for her to finish mastering it. Your manager, Jen, had came too. She had to hear the album for herself also. She couldn’t have her client looking a mess in front of her bosses. Bad for business and her reputation.

“…and after an hour or two of making sure your vocals were clear, I finally finish the album.” Sarah explained. “Honestly, this is probably the best album I’ve produced in a minute, and I worked on SZA’s album.”

“That good?” Vinnie asked with a smirk, leaning against the studio door. “That’s sick. I’m ready to listen to it.”

As that sentence left Vinnie’s mouth, you felt your anxiety overcome you. “Are you sure, Sarah? There has to be some sort of adlib I need to rework or something. Can’t be ready so soon.”

“Y/n, it can’t get any better than this. This is a solid project. I should know, I spent days listening to it over and over again. Trust me, it’s ready.”

“Besides, it’s too late to rerecord now.” Jen added. “The label meeting is next Thursday, and we don’t have a week for Sarah to mix and master all over again. Once the label gives us the greenlight, if there’s anything to tweak, you can do it before you have to submit the final project. But until then, no changes and no additions.”

You sighed, nodded your head. It’s not that you were afraid of it not being perfect. You were more scared of what Vinnie would think. I mean, he’s the one who inspired the album; more than half of the songs are about him. His opinion meant everything to you, and if he didn’t like an inch of it…that would destroy you.

As you were sulking and picking at your chipped nail polish, Vinnie wandered over to you where you sat at the soundboard with Sarah. He leaned against it and smiled down at you. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, keeping your head down. He scoffed and chuckled. “Y/n, you’re playing with your nail polish. You always do that when you’re upset.”

He pulled you up and took you out of your seat before sitting down himself and placing you on his lap. “Tell Santa what’s up.” He joked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m just nervous. This album means so much to me.”

“Completely understandable. It’s your first one, it should mean a lot to you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just because of that. It’s also because it’s about you. The only reason you haven’t came with me to the studio until now is because I didn’t want you to hate anything on this, and it would kill me if you did.”

“Y/n, look at me”—you finally met his eyes for the first time—“I could never not like anything you do. Especially if it’s dedicated to me. That’s like throwing away a gift you gave me. I wouldn’t ever do that. So don’t think for a minute that I’d hate this. That’s literally impossible.”

You smiled, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

“I know.” He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Play us the album!” He said dramatically, sending the producer into a fit of giggles.

She followed his orders and with a few clicks and the press of a button, the first song from your album rang out from the studio speakers. You watched timidly as Vinnie bobbed his head up and down as it went from track to track.

“This shit slaps!” He exclaimed as “Y/n Bossa Nova” played. He nearly about died during “Oxytocin”, claiming it to be god tier. Minutes went by until you got to the final track “Halley’s Comet”, and you were scared to play him this song.

While the other tracks were quite playful in nature, this one was different. The song was a bit cynical, but it was also like a love letter to Vinnie. Never before have you ever felt what you had with him. And at first that made you scared. But as the months went by and your relationship started to blossom, you realized he was the one for you. This was just your way of telling him that.

When it started, you looked everywhere but at Vinnie. It wasn’t just because you couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face, but also because this song was quite emotional. You didn’t want him to see you “being a little bitch” as you put it.

The sound of your soft vocals bounced off the walls and you felt Vinnie place his chin on your shoulder. His hold on you grew tighter as he swayed you two back forth. A small smile crept it’s way onto your face as you tried your best to stray away from crying.

“I’ve been loved before, but right now in this moment,” you sung, “I feel more and more like I was made for you…”

When those lyrics hit, you felt Vinnie stop swaying. Hell, you were pretty sure he had stopped breathing too. You didn’t know what to think about that; did he not like the song, is he shocked? What was he thinking and feeling? Shortly after, the song came to an end with you singing, “I think I might have fallen in love…what am I to do?”

And with that, the album finished. The room was silent, the only sound being your sniffles. Although that was broken when Sarah screamed. “Wasn’t that amazing!? Ugh, my power…I really outdid myself on this one.”

Thankfully, Jen understood the impact of that last song. “Sarah, why don’t we go get a Snickers or something from the vending machine?”

“I can’t eat anything fatty, Jen. You know this.”

Jen mouthed some profanities and threats at the woman causing her to shoot up from her chair and run out into the hallway. “We’ll leave you two alone for a minute.” Jen smiled, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Neither of you or Vinnie spoke and that somewhat was comforting. However, part of it made you feel insecure about the album, “Halley’s Comet” in specific. Out of all the songs, that’s the one you wanted him to like the most.

The silence soon grew uncomfortable, so you decided to be the first to speak. “Well, that was the album. What’d you think?”

He opened his mouth, but it was obviously he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I-I don’t know how to even put it in words.”

“That bad?” You sighed.

“No, never.” He laughed. “It was beautiful, all of it really. And that last song, that was amazing.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the grin wanting to break free. “You think so?”

“Yeah, it was definitely one of my favorites. To know I had that much of an impact on you, it’s really sweet. I didn’t think I could simp for you any harder than I do now.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“It’s the truth!” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “I love you, Y/n. I really do.”

“I love you too.” And with that, he laid a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips.

Pulling back, he said, “Oh and just so you know, I agree with you.”

“On what?”

“You were definitely made for me.”

[goatcheesecak3]

Sleepyheads

Adam Stanheight x M!reader (ft. Scott Tibbs)

fic type: fluff

warnings: alcohol

summary: your boyfriend, Adam comes home from a night of Drinking with his best friend, Scott, and it's up to you to babysit them.

Dating Adam Stanheight was an interesting experience, to put it in simple terms. You’d known him as a friend for a while, and in that time he was a rather loud and lairy character, never not out raising hell with his best friend, Scott Tibbs. However, one night after attending a show together, Adam had crashed at your apartment. One on one, he was more gentle, his rough edges seemed sanded down and soft to the touch. It was like a dog that always has it’s hackles up letting you stroke it for the first time. Ever since you’d seen that side of Adam, you’d had a soft spot for him, and he you. It wasn’t long after that that the two of you started dating.

A few months down the road, Adam had invited you to come to one of Scott’s gigs, but feeling groggy from working late the night before, you instead opted to stay home and get an early night. It had been agreed that once the gig was over, Adam would come round to sleep at your apartment, since you lived closer and it saved money for a taxi. Which brings us up to speed.

Curled up in bed, you heard the front door to your apartment open, followed by heavy inconsiderate footsteps from large black boots. A pair of ebrious voices cackled at something, before one of them blurted out

“yo, seriously, Adam, you hit the jackpot with y/n, I mean, look at how nice this place is”

It would have appeared that Adam had brought Scott along with him.

You were never Scott’s biggest fan, but you had to admit, that comment made you smile. Scott wasn’t the type to be complimentary, especially when it came to the matter of his friends having partners. He thought guys went all soft and stopped being fun once they got into relationships, so it was a surprise to hear him say that his best friend of all time had “hit the jackpot” with you, even if it was just because you had a nice home.

“I’m telling you, dude, he’s the best. Always got like, snacks and shit for me, it always smells nice in here and- man, feel how soft this couch is” you heard Adam respond, accompanied by two hefty thuds as their bodies hit the sofa, followed by some sleepy and satisfied groans at how comfy the sofa was on their tired bones.

You decided that, as much as this was entertaining, you’d never get to sleep if you let those idiots stay up all night testing out your furniture, so instead you did what you knew best: babysit drunk punk guys until they fall asleep. You headed down the hall into the living room where Adam immediately rose to his feet excitedly, grabbing you and pulling you into a drunken embrace.

“y/n! I missed you, baby- aw shit did we wake you up? I’m sorry, baby I jus-” you interrupted him with a peck on the lips, he had a tendency to ramble when he was drunk.

“It’s fine, babe” you tuned your attention towards Scott (who appeared to be prodding a basket of potpourri that sat on your coffee table, clearly he had no idea what the hell it was), “Scott, do you wanna stay here tonight? You don’t look sober enough to walk home”

“see dude! I told you he’d be okay with it, isn’t y/n just the best” Adam grinned excitedly, squeezing your waist and swaying a little to keep his balance.

“Thanks, y/n” Scott said, his tone far more upbeat than you were used to. “y’know, I’m glad you’re dating Adam. I guess you’re  kinda cool- and Adam’s way less of an uptight asshole now that he’s getting laid”

Adam kicked Scott’s shins as you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. That was the closest you’d ever gotten to a compliment from Scott.

“You boys just sit down for a minute, alright? I’ll go see if I’ve got any microwave pizzas or something to help you sober up” you said, helping a very inebriated and clumsy Adam back onto the sofa. He sort of toppled onto Scott, and you could hear the pair of them giggling like schoolboys about something or other as you made your way to the kitchen.

Adam and Scott had been best friends since they were 5 years old, and that was clear to anyone who spent any amount of time in the same room as them. Separately, Adam was quite reserved and Scott was aloof and a bit miserable, but together they were like happy little children. As you watched two mini pizzas turning around in the microwave, it was hard for you to picture to punk guys in their mid twenties drinking beer and talking about sex sitting on your sofa, when the sound of their childlike sniggering and petty teasing rung throughout the apartment. It was sweet, in a way.

After a few minutes had passed, you brought out the two pizzas on a plate ready to hand to them, only to be met with an adorable sight. Both men were passed out, Scott’s head thrown back snoring loudly, his arm around Adam, who had been resting his head on Scott’s chest. They were out cold.

You placed the plate on the coffee table for them to discover in the morning, and pulled an old blanket over the sleepy friends. You stopped to take in the sweet moment, before picking up Adam’s camera and snapping a quick picture to embarrass them with at some point. Then, finally you headed to bed and got some well deserved rest.

[bonny-kookoo]

Delicate (JJK x Reader) 🐾💜☁️🔞

🧶Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🧶Genre: hybrid!AU, Tsundere (slightly), Fluff, a bit of Angst, smut

🧶Warnings: Jungkook is a brat, Catboy!Jungkook, He basically hates everyone but his kitten, HUman! Reader, Wet dream, masturbation, big dick! Kook but whats new, Sweet reader, Spanking (and not on her butt if you know what I mean), Rough handjob (fem. Rec), doggy style, Desperate koo, overstimulation, forced orgasm, multiple orgasm, slightly angsty moment, but nothing bad lol, confessions, basically owner/Hybrid to lovers lol

🧶Summary: Jungkook does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Changing for you might be harder than he initially thought- but maybe he doesn't even need to. Maybe you'll love him just for who he actually is.

Jungkook was a maine coon hybrid. He's been at the shelter for years now, adopted just to be returned a week later, every time. He's got serious additude problems, thinks way too highly of himself, is just overall too much to handle. He knows that. But that doesn't mean he wants to change.

No, he actually actively decides to be a dick. Simply irritating others is like some sort of game for him, feeding his ego to no ends whenever someone gives up on him. It's like he's winning.

Jungkook loves winning.

It all however, changes as soon as he spots you. You're small, and not in a sense of short- no, you actually look like a doll to him. So delicate, so adorable, Jungkook can't help but stare with wide, green cateyes. His pupils are contracted as if you're too bringt for them to handle, yet its only the amount of sudden emotions that's making them look like that. As soon as you turn around, spotting him, smiling at him, they widen like the moon itself; making the cat-hybrid next to him wave a hand in front of his face, since he completely blocked out the fact that the older hybrid was talking to him. He irritatedly swishes his hand away, ears now perked up as his fluffy tail twitches every second or so. He can hear your voice, soft and sweet, and he's whipped already.

Jungkook wants you.

He stands up suddenly, completely dismissing the hybrid that he'd conversed with earlier, as he walks over to you, who's standing in front of another area filled with dog hybrids. He scrunches his nose in disgust; you don't need one of those mutts, you need him. He stops a footstep away from you, and the worker sighes as you look up at the hybrid. "Oh, thats Jungkook-" he explains. "He's one of our problem cases, so I wouldn't really reccomend him for you." He explains, and Jungkooks brows furrow. Who the fuck does he think he is, calling him a problem case? He knows its true, but that doesn't mean he can just say that out loud to anyone, especially not you. How's he supposed to gain your trust now?

You smile, now visibly a little intimitated. Jungkook knows why, knows that his physique is pretty much yelling strength and confidence. He suddenly gets an idea, and decides to try it out. No hurt in playing around a little.

So he lets his ears droop, and slowly walks back towards the corner of the room, simply sitting down there before flopping to his side, huffing out a breath as if exhausted. He hoped it works, otherwise he's pulling this stunt without reason, making a fool of himself for nothing. But it seems as if it works, slowly, because he can spot your now slightly worried eyes watching him as the worker leads you along, to meet some other dog hybrids. He knows he's got you. He just has to wait.

Jungkook loves taking naps.

And this time, it helped time pass by easily, as he suddenly smells your fabric softener again, as he can hear the worker try and talk you out of it. He can feel you behind him as he'd rolled around on his spot to face the wall, and he visibly shudders as your hand touches his tail. He turns around slowly, tired eyes spotting you squatting down close to his back, as he sits up. He looks at you curiously, and you suddenly smile, leaning your head slightly to the side, your earrings dangling prettily from your ears as he can't look away. You're even prettier up close and personal like this. "So, you're Jungkook?" You ask, and he forgets to answer for a moment, nods after he notices the awkward silence, as he blushes. You giggle, and sit down properly, obviously intending to get to know him more.

Good.

He sits properly as well, not saying anything, as you ask away. "They said you're quite the troublemaker." You amusedly state, and Jungkook suddenly has the urge to roll his eyes. He doesn't however, knowing all his acting would've been for nothing if he slipped now. So he simply looks down, his ears slightly bend backwards as he scratches his neck. "But I think you're just a bit rough around the edges." You explain, and his eyes move, looking at you as you continue. "Like a diamond, you know? They need to be handled carefully, and then they turn into the prettiest things." You say, and he already decides he loves your voice. He carefully answers.

"You think so?"

He can see the surprise in your face, it's to be expected. His tone doesn't fit his current act at all, but he can't change that. But you smile, nodding, and he internally sighs at that, at the fact that you simply accepted that. "Look-" You suddenly say, pulling out your phone and showing him a balcony, with pretty flowers blooming. You swipe, and it shows what he assumes is your apartment. It's small, he notices, but for some reason it looks more inviting than any place he'd ever been to. It looks cozy, well taken care of, and a tad bit unruled; it looks like a home. His eyes sparkle with actual genuine interest. "We could put some blankets here, the sun shines there nicely throughout the day, so you could take some awesome naps there-" You explain, and his ears perk into your direction at that. "Oh, and during the summer you can always stay on the balcony- its really nice there when its hot you know? The cool breeze is nice." You say, and suddenly notice how he's looking at you, expecting something. "I mean-" You stutter suddenly, locking your phone and growing a bit shy at him being so close to you. You have to admit; he's really handsome. "Only if you want to come with me, that is." You ask, and he suddenly nods.

Jungkook would love to come home with you.

That was a year ago, and your home slowly became his own home as well, more perfect than those photos could ever convey.

As you walk around the apartment, he notices how you carry some of your own stuff into another room- smaller than the original bedroom. At his confused glance, you scratch the back of your neck, right where he knows your scent is strongest, and he gets the urge to bury his nose into the spot. "Oh! I just uhm.. last night you slept in front of my door, so I thought you may want to change rooms? You're bigger than me, so you need more space, i think?" You say, and he shakes his head with a soft smile, walking up to you and stopping you in your tracks.

"N-No.. Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He wonders, now not looking at you anymore, as you look up at his eyes. "I uhm.." He starts, swallowing some saliva to finally get the words out. "I was wondering if I could sleep in your room."

Its quiet for a moment, and he grows anxious at this, thinking that he had just overstepped some boundary he didn't know of yet. "Like- I mean, I get lonely during the night, and you said once that you need to hug something to sleep well and maybe you could hug me and we would safe costs for heating because two people are warmer than just one and-" He rambles on, and you put your hands on his shoulders, making him shut up in the midst of talking. Your touch does that to him, most of the time. It's like magic, addicting, and he can't help but swallow again, now however not because of fear.

"You should've said something sooner, silly!" You say, reaching up to scratch his ear, which involuntarily makes him purr as he presses against your hand. "Of course you can. Don't worry so much, kookie." You say, and he smiles at this, happy that he was finally closer to you.

Jungkook is such a sweet cat, in your eyes. He's gentle, always so ready to help you with whatever problem you have, lending you a hand with household chores; he's truly the perfect hybrid at your side.

So, so sweet.

Scratch that.

Jungkook was currently eyeing your best friend down, ears pinned back while his fluffy tail was standing tall, agression clear in his entire posture. "Wow, ok. What's with him?" Yoongi asks, unsure on what exactly was going on. Maybe it was Hoesok's scent on him that agitated him? But he couldn't know for sure. Instead of you however, Jungkook answered in his low voice, clearly offended by something. He doesn't klnow why this always happens.

"Don't talk like I'm not here, asshole." He spits out, and your eyes widen. Jungkook was such a sweet guy around you, it was hard to imagine this was actually happening time and time again. He was watching Yoongi with careful eyes, pupils contracted to slits as his greenish eyes pin the older man down with their stare. He's cautious, and you don't quite know about what, until Yoongi makes the mistake of reaching out for you.

Before so much as his fingertips can reach you, Jungkook has already jumped from his spot, shoving the shorter man back with so much force he almost falls into the small coffee table behind him. "Jungkook!" You exclaim scandalized, as he turns around at your tone of voice. Looking at your posture, taking in your scent, he can sense immediately that you're scared, confused, and he hates it. "Apologize." You demand, and Jungkook shakes his head, unwavering, before you sigh out, pointing towards the bedroom door. "Then get inside. And don't come out until I say so." You say, and his ears pin themselves back again, however his shoulders slump down as well, visibly deflating. He's actually sorry now- but it's too late to force himself to apologize to Yoongi; that intruder who's clearly here to claim territory. "Now." You say, and Jungkook suddenly breaks eye contact with you, letting himself be defeated for the first time since he was adopted.

For some reason, your voice hangs heavy on his muscles, heavier than any collar ever hung around his neck.

He hates this. He hates that he has to give up the fight to this complete stranger just because you said so; yet he can't will himself to go against your will. He wants to stay, he wants to be good, but he cant help but grow hostile with another guy in the same apartment as you. It's as if he's giving you up, and that's definitely not what he wants to do. But its ultimately whats happening.

And he hates it.

Jungkook isn't a sweet kitty. He's an untamed tiger, just simply agreeing on living with you, and that has become very apparent these months. He likes to pick on you, and loves to make a mess. There's nothing left of the oh so sweet and caring catboy you adopted a year ago, but it somehow doesn't bother you. You know that he was eager to get out of the shelter, and that he had been pretending for long enough.

This was Jungkooks true nature, and you were okay with that.

He was a bit of a brat, throwing down objects placed by you whenever you weren't home, simply to show you his unhappiness about that fact. He knew that you had to work, but that didn't mean that he liked it.

He also had a major enemy now.

Seokjin across the street, Namjoons prized silver labrador hybrid, or so he calls him. He's handsome, you have to admit, but Jungkook can't see anything visually appealing about the mutt. He hates him with a passion, and its quite possibly because of his very flirty nature, especially towards you. Jungkook wasn't talented in that department, he rather enjoyed picking on you than complimenting you. Compliments got boring after a while. Calling you shorty and watching you struggle to reach the highest shelf would never get old to him, however.

He likes to call Seokjin a rat for his grey features, just to see him get all offended, and he doesn't care much that you always scold him for it. He likes to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and he's been testing you long enough to somehow know when the fun is over. He'd never intentionally hurt you, emotionally nor physically, but that doesn't mean he can't pick on you now and then.

Its his own way of showing affection. You just don't quite get it, it seems.

Its when you leave for a late night business gathering to celebrate the company's anniversary that he breaks. He simply pretends to be asleep as he waits for you to leave, simply peeking at your dress though almost closed eyes, and he wishes he didn't do it. Your scent is driving him crazy already, yet you were always careful to cover up around him, seemingly conscious about him and the fact that he is, apart from his cat side, still a young man. He wont ever be able to burn that image of your perfect legs in that perfect little dress out of his mind now that he's seen it. And its the kiss you place on his cheek that pushes him over the edge, makes him struggle to stay composed until he can hear the front door close shut.

He whines out, turning around on the bed as he buries his face into the sheets, into the spot that's usually occupied by your form. It still smells like you; not like you when you try to use perfume, which he hates, but your unmasked smell he absolutely loves. It fills his senses, makes him squirm on the mattress as he turns, bunching the sheets between his legs as he begins to hump into nothing, the friction of the bed sheets enough to rile him up as he bites the pillow your head usually rests on. He can see it in front of him vividly like a dream he's experiencing right in that moment. You, laid out underneath him, his teeth not clamping down on fabric but your delicate skin, making such wonderful noises as he takes you like the good and sweet girl you are for him. How enticingly you would mewl, arching your back as he guides his leaking cock inside you, stretching you out as his hands would hold you close, keep you upright so you wont just smash onto the mattress onto your face. He curses as he picks up his pace, simple movement not enough anymore as his hand reaches down, frustratingly palming his impatient erection hidden underneath his sweatpants as his dream continues, showing him how you would say his name, breathlessly, as you would look over your shoulder.

Then it shifts, as his mind is suddenly focusing on your face. Would you be into giving him head? Oh god, if you would, he knows he wouldn't be able to last; with your innocent eyes, kneeled in front of him, so eagerly taking his cock he couldn't help but cum inside your throat. And he knows you would be such a good kitten, you would swallow him down prettily, and he would praise you so good. "Hnng, fuck..!" He exclaims, as he writhes on top of the sheets, messing everything up, but he doesn't care.

He never really thought about that weird missionary position humans liked, but he could actually see the appeal of it, if he was doing it with you. To be able to see every change of your features, how your soft lips would part in pleasure as he fills you up like you should be, oh it would be a sight for him to see. His eyes squeeze shut as he turns his head, groaning loudly as he almost sobs brokenly into the pillow, feeling his release stain the fabric of his sweats uncomfortably. But he doesn't care, as he sniffles, breathing heavily before he chuckles.

"Fuck, I'm pathetic."

Can hybrids outgrow their owners?

It certainly feels like it. Jungkook has been growing more and more distant to you, and you feel as if its your own fault. You must've done something wrong, you assume, as he distances himself more and more not only from you, but everyone else as well. He doesn't pick up a fight with Seokjin anymore, hell, he even let Yoongi inside yesterday. And you try to push back your tears as you walk inside the living room, where he's currently sitting, watching the window, tail lazily swaying softly. Maybe the apartment really was too small for him- you've head your neighborly lady complain recently about that when she saw him through the window. Maybe you weren't the right person for him.

"Jungkookie?" You carefully ask, as you see his tail twitch, a sign that he noticed you. "We need to talk." You start, and he gets up, ready to leave the room.

"Well I don't want to though, your bad." He responds, and you reach for his hand, as he whips his head around, ready to bite an answer out, but he spots something in your gaze that makes him stop in his tracks.

"We need to.. I can't- I can't make that decision for you, we need to talk about where you wanna go." His brows furrow as he tries to figure out what you're implying, a weird feeling in his gut telling him that it's something he wont like at all. "I want you to be happy, even if its not with me kookie." You sigh out, and he connects the dots, suddenly realizing what you're saying.

"Ho- wait no no-" His eyes widen, and you look at him as he shakes his head at you, suddenly defensive. "You want to give me away?!" He barks out, bushy tail behind him angrily whipping from one side to the other. "I don't want to! You said this is my home, you can't make me leave!" He spits at you, and you grow confused.

"But-" You start. "You've been so uncomfortable around me Kook, it's okay if you don't want to live with me anymore, really. Namjoon said that sometimes Hybrids outgrow their owners-" You say, but Jungkooks eyes glint angrily.

"Namjoon doesn't know shit!" He yells, and you shut up at that. "I don't want to go, I won't ever go!" He finalizes, and you are on your last leg. He's completely confusing you at this point.

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to do! You're clearly not comfortable around me anymore, what am I supposed to do?!" You yell back, voice by far not as strong as his, but it riles him up enough that he snaps.

"There's nothing you can do about my fucking hormones giving me wet dreams about you like a teenager!" He says, and your eyes widen, making his ears grow red in shame. "There, I said it. Want me to spell it out? I want to fuck you, there you go!" He says, throwing his hands in the air for good measure as he breathes heavily, giving both of you a moment to process his confession. He suddenly grows more quiet, more calm, his voice in no way as harsh and loud as before. "No.. no that's not right." He admits, and comes to conclusion that its now or never. "I want to hold you at night like a lover does, not just a hybrid and his owner. I want you to see me as a partner, not just as a pet." he states, gaze falling downwards as his ears flop to the sides, tail unmoving behind him.

"I never saw you as just a pet, Koo." You say, and he perks up at that, as you walk closer to him, hugging him closely, as he stands a bit awkwardly, before deciding to hug you back. "I didn't want to take advantage of you." You say, and he grows hopeful.

"Does that mean you.. like me like that?" He asks, and you nod into his chest.

Making him grin like an idiot.

Its after this moment that things slowly change a bit. He's still picking on you whenever he can, but he's also being awfully suggestive ever since your talk. Its like he wants to know what runs your gears more clearly these days, as he's making sure to flaunt his post workout body every now and then just to see you turn red at the sight.

He loves how he makes you shy.

Its you however, who breaks him first.

The day he can't keep his hands off of you is the day the spider in your shower decided to jump down on you, scaring the life out of your body as you screach in horror, fleeing the scene in nothing but a towel as you safe yourself into the bedroom, where Jungkook had been taking a nap before hearing your scream. He's ready to laugh at you, until he notices the towel barely hanging onto what you hold against your chest, skin still slightly damp as only your hair is still dry. He can't help himself anymore. "Hm.. how about I get your mind off of that scary little insect?" He humms from behind you, and you open your mouth to retort a snappy remark, but you don't get that far.

He's already behind you, his legs placing themselves next to yours on the bed as he hooks his own over yours, spreading your legs for him as he takes the bits of towel out of your hands, making it fall to the sides, revealing your body to him, at last. He can't help but lick his lips at the sight he gets from over your shoulder, purring loudly as he licks at your neck, finally getting a taste of you; and it's energizing, like a drug, making a shiver run through his spine as his tail twitches behind him in pleasure. You gasp out loud as he bites down, hand reaching between your legs to move his middle and ring finger inside your already wettening center, making him groan. "So ready.." He muses, loving the sounds you make, as he obnoxious noise of squelching from the wettness between your legs with every movement of his fingers fills the room. You struggle to close your legs at the sensation, but he doesn't let you; instead gently hitting your cunt as if to put you back into place, while he groans. "Bad girl. This is mine, isn't it?" He asks, and you can't answer for a moment. "This-" He says, his hand forcefully coming down onto your pussy again, as you squeal from it. "Is mine, isn't it?" He asks again, and you nod over and over again, making him smile. "That's right. And I do what I want with it." He says, before he pumps his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, uncaring of the mess he's making as you squirm and mewl in his lap. He loves this, loves how the sounds he imagined you making can't ever compare to what he's currently hearing. He has to take you.

He removes his hand, undressing himself impatiently as he turns you over for him, behind presented to him as he licks his lips again. "So pretty." He praises, and pumps his length once, twice, before he enters your smooth center, already feeling as if he's in heaven. "I promise I-" He starts, but has to moan out as you clench around him particularly hard. "I promise I'll be gentle next time-" He says, before his palms find your breasts, kneading them in his palms as he kisses along your spine. "But I need you." He whines out, making you huff out a breath as you look over your shoulder, just like he imagined. "Fuck!" He presses out, skin against skin one of the many sounds apart from your heavy breathing and shared sounds of pleasure inside the room, spider long forgotten as you suddenly arch your back into him. "My kitten's gonna cum? Hm?" He asks, and a cute moan is all he gets- all he needs, as you try to get up a bit more, making him push your neck into the pillows below, careful to let you breath as your cheek is what meets the fabric below, his other hand brushing away your hair lovingly, so that he can watch you come undone. "So sweet, so submissive.." He humms out, as he dips down, your back against his chest as he kisses underneath your earlobe, amusement clear in his voice. "Such a cute little whore for me, my sweetest princess, so beautiful.." He praises, and you moan out obscenely as you come, his pace never stopping once. "You're gonna have to-" He says, moving more desperately now to reach his own peak. "You're gonna have to take it baby." He presses out, holding your hips as he forces them onto him with more strength, making you whine in overstimulation. "Almost there- there we go-" He exclaims, uncaringly rubbing your clit between your legs as you shiver violently underneath him, second orgasm hitting you so quickly that your body can't seem to prepare itself as you feel wetness escape you, making him groan loudly. "What a good girl, look at that- ah!" He exclaims, pushing himself as deep as he can as you feel him spurt his load inside you, finally stopping, finally calming down.

"Jungkook?" You ask out of breath, as he simply holds you close, still buried inside of you, falling to the side as he buries his nose in between the crook of your neck.

"Hmm.. no, lets stay like that.." He humms sleepily, and you simply close your eyes, agreeing to his statement.

Jungkook is not a sweet cat- but he certainly has his moments.

"Kitten?" He asks, as he notices you being weirdly quiet next to him on the couch, now noticing the tears on your cheeks. "You're such a crybaby!" He laughs, as he wipes away your tears with his sweater sleeve, making you pout.

"Not fair." You mumble out, and he simply chuckles, placing a kiss ontop of your nose.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

182 Centimeters | Tall!F!Reader x Surprise

A great boon has been bestowed upon Aoi Todo. First, he got to meet Takada in person. Second, he gained a brother. Third, he was able to fight a special grade all in one month.

Is there anything else that could make this trip perfect?

Todo didn't think so until he lays eyes on you, standing in the middle of the hallway with luggage tucked under one arm and the other holding onto a rolling suitcase. He remembers now about Mai mentioning a late edition transfer student who was going to be joining in the school games a little late. He only wishes Mai had warned him about the other thing about you. The fact that you are an amazon in the flesh.

"She has to be 187," Todo thinks upon first seeing you and sizing you up from a respectable distance. "No, she's definitely closer to 185. Definitely, 185," he corrects as he tries to measure you by judging how far your head was away from the top door frame. When he glances down at your feet, he realizes his stupid mistake and smacks himself on the forehead. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot about her shoes." Taking your soles into account, he finally narrows down your height range. You have to be 182cm. An even 6 feet. That makes you taller than even Takada!

Todo's eyes widen upon the realization.

You had half his attraction factor right there; and with his help in training, you would definitely have the second half. He knows plenty of exercises that would make your ass look great and have the rest of your body strong enough to toss any curse. You guys could make training into dates, and dates would lead to the two of you making kissy faces. Aoi can already picture it. Naturally, you'd be admiring him, shirtless and glistening with sweat, unable to take your eyes off him. Then, you'd grow embarrassed when he would call you out on it and try to look away like you were never staring in the first place. Luckily for you, he wouldn't mind if you wanted to look at his chiseled chest a little while longer. Or better yet, touch it. 

Todo isn't sure what he's done to deserve such luck. Perhaps the world is rewarding him for finally breaking his record of 1000 sit-ups in an hour or maybe it's the limited-edition lucky Takada-chan charm that arrived in a mail a week earlier working its magic?

Either way, this might be the best year of his life, Todo decides.

That is until he hears a familiar voice. 

"Hey there! How are you doing?" Yuuji asks loudly as he walks up to your person. Todo should've known. Of course, his brother would sense best girl material walking into the building.

"My name is Yuuji. What's yours?"

"I'm (Name). I'm a new student here. I'm a little lost actually. Could you help me out?"

Even your voice sounds so cute! You were so perfect.

That means Yuuji had no chance with the way he was doing things now. Despite Todo wanting you for himself, he could never leave his brother to make such an embarrassment of himself. If the two of them are to battle for your love, it has to be a fair battle.

"Yeah, the dorms are thi—" Yuuji yelps as he's suddenly tugged away from you and dragged around the nearest corner, leaving you in a confused state where you stood.

"What’s the big idea?" Yuuji asks, breaking free from the grasp that held him.

"I'm trying to save you, brother! What do you think you're doing walking up to a woman like that so casually?" Todo asks.

It takes Yuuji a few seconds to realize that Todo meant you were the woman that couldn't be so casually spoken to since he's fairly sure you're a first-year like him. "I'm pretty sure she's the same age as us, dude."

This is worse than he thought. He's definitely going to have to give Yuuji the rundown on how to properly ask a girl out. "That doesn't matter. She's still a lady that requires finesse if you're going to try to ask her out," Todo says. 

Sadly, they are too busy in their discussion to notice you getting impatient for Yuuji to return or to notice another one of your classmates passing them and heading in your direction. You are just thankful to finally have someone help walk you to your dorm and not ditch you instead.

For the rest of the day, Yuuji is stuck with Todo lecturing in his ear. The first time being at the baseball game against the Kyoto school.

"First, you need to set the mood. And by mood, I mean you need to get her attention on you. Do something to impress her without her knowing you're trying to impress her," Todo instructs as you round home base on long legs, which Todo claims is made for a goddess. You were able to get a score for the team thanks to Fushiguro's sacrifice bunt, and the two of you take a seat in the dugout.

"Shouldn't you be helping your team?" Yuuji asks Todo after seeing him compliment your score. Todo sighs. Obviously, Yuuji needs more lessons. 

Eventually, Yuuji steps up to the plate for his turn. Naturally, he hits a home run. As he rounds home, he sees you applauding loudly. Your eyes perfectly on him. It definitely feels good to have a cute girl's attention, and Yuuji realizes that he did really want to ask you out. He wonders if Todo thinks that's a good way to set the mood.

The next time Todo decides to instruct Yuuji is after they all take their showers and decide to rest up before dinner. "Next, you need to leave a letter under her door. Something to pique her interest and make her want to meet up with you."

Luckily, Yuuji has seen this before in anime. "Right, right. I heard of that actually." He easily drafted a letter and slid it under your dorm door. It sounds like you're talking to someone else on the other side so Yuuji hopes you'll see it in time so the two of you can meet up in fifteen minutes.

"Finally, make sure the place you meet up is scenic," Todo says, nodding his head and closing his eyes to repeat the steps in his head as he follows his brother to the school's courtyard. Impress? Check. Letter? Check. Scenic meet-up place? Check.

It isn't until he feels Yuuji's hand on his shoulder and a quick thanks that Todo realizes his mistake. Yuuji rushes away from him to the other side of the courtyard where you're waiting with the letter in hand. 

"My name is Yuuji. I don't know if you remember me from class."

"Oh, yes, I know! You hit that homerun. It was really great."

Todo stands in shock. 

...He was so busy trying to teach that he actually forgot to pursue you first!

"Really? Thanks! I was just trying to make sure I actually hit it. I wasn't expecting it to go so far." Yuuji laughed. "So, (Name), I was wondering if you wanna go out together?"

Todo could cry. Actually, he already feels the tears coming down his face, but his brother could at least be happy. And if his brother is happy, that's all he needed!

"I'm sorry," you say sweetly. "I only showed up because I didn't want to stand you up, but the truth is I already like someone, and I wouldn't feel comfortable going out with someone when I have a crush on another person."

Todo's ears ring with your words. You already like someone!

"Oh, well, that's too bad, I guess. Thanks for telling me," Yuuji says with a disappointed yet understanding smile while Todo finds the opportunity to scoot in the middle of your conversation.

"Excuse me but your crush wouldn't happen to be on me by any chance?" he asks, hopeful.

You force a smile onto your face and tilt your head. "Sorry...Have we met?" you ask, nervously.

Todo gasps as he feels his world crashing down. Your date. Your marriage. Your kids. All gone, and it’s all black in his memory after that. The next thing he can recall is sitting in the eating area with Itadori. He remembers this heartache once before. "It's just like with Takada-chan..." he mumbles heartbrokenly.

"I told you already. We never went to the same middle school, and you never confessed to Takada," Yuuji grumbles, but Todo knows that Yuuji is only trying to make him feel better. He is so lucky to have such a good brother.

"Who...Who do you think it is anyway?"

Yuuji pauses.

He actually wonders that as well.

Then, they hear your voice ringing through the dining hall. Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. 

"Fushiguro-kun, I wanted to thank you for helping me get settled into the academy. My mom gave me a buy one, get one free for a sushi place for when I made some friends, so...I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one?"

Then, Yuuji finally gets it. He had been ignoring the small conversations happening around him the entire time thanks to Todo's interruptions.

The Hall.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for the dorms. Gojo-sensei was supposed to show me, but he got sidetracked so I've been sort of left on my own."

"Of course, he did. Geeze, that guy." Megumi sighs. "You can follow me. I'll show you where some empty rooms near the other girls are."

"Thank you so much! I'm (Name) by the way."

"Fushiguro," he states plainly and simply as you struggle behind him with your luggage. "Is that stuff heavy? Want me to help you carry it?"

”Yes. My arms got numb while I was waiting. Thank you so much!”

The Game.

"Out!" Gojo says. Fushiguro rounds first base to head back to the dugout, but you at least made it home to score. You head to the dugout as well.

"That's too bad, Fushiguro. You'll get it next time," you say, sitting next to him.

"As long as Kugisaki made it to second and you made it home then it's fine. I'm not really too hyped up on winning anyway."

”Oh. I was really looking forward to seeing you get one.”

”Too bad. Guess you’ll have to wait,” and by “wait” Megumi had meant probably not ever but you laughed anyway even though you had got what he meant. 

”I don’t mind waiting.”

The Dorms.

"Kugisaki-san said you could summon different shikigami animals."

"That's true."

"Would you mind showing me sometime? I love animals."

"What is your favorite?"

"I really like rabbits. Are you able to summon those?"

"Not at the moment, but I’ll show you when I learn it. How do you feel about dogs instead?"

”That cute dog was yours? That’s amazing.”

And now.

"Yeah, sure. I wasn't really in the mood for anything at school anyway," Fushiguro agrees, and your face lights up with a glow that could rival sunshine. Yuuji thinks if he squints he can see the anime hearts starting to dance over your head but Fushiguro didn't seem to mind.

Itadori could almost laugh. That's a new record in anyone ever befriending Fushiguro. The two of you must have hit it off really well. Yuuji smiles. In that case, he couldn't be upset. That must mean fate has something in store for you guys, and he didn't want to get in the way. "I guess girls really do like that cool, quiet type."

Meanwhile, Todo is crying in defeat. How could a woman like you like Fushiguro? 

"He's so boring though..."

[angelsxbelle]

how they push you away vs. how they make it up to you.

my first hurt/comfort scenarios let’s go😀

headcanons on how haikyuu boys cause stress on your relationship and how they fix things afterwards ~

note: shirabu’s and hirugami’s take place with them as adults, iwaizumi’s takes place as third years in high school

warnings: angst to fluff, timeskip occupation spoilers, swearing, iwaizumi’s ended up being a little long oops

pairings: shirabu x reader, hirugami x reader, iwaizumi x reader

shirabu, KENJIROU

to put it lightly, shirabu is  s t r e s s e d  af

medical school is already hard enough, but taking care of another person is even harder to do at the same time

he just wants to crawl underneath a blanket and not have to think about anyone else’s feelings for a while while he lets everything out

he appreciates that you want to take care of him, but he doesn’t want you to hover over him and distract him while he’s trying to focus

this one day he’s studying for an exam and when you come home from work you come over to where he’s sitting and ask him how is day was

no response.

you ask again, nudging him a little bit to get a response

his eyes squint the tiniest bit, and what comes out of his mouth next is worse than yelling, screaming, or even just saying something flat out mean

“can you go away? you being here is messing up my concentration and this is more important”. he says, in a cold tone

“this is more important”. so that was it. so that was how he felt about this whole thing. you walk away, dumbfounded at your realization of how he really feels, not hate, not disgust, just nothing. 

nothing.

you go to bed alone that night, an empty space in your bed where he used to sleep when he still cared

later in the week, after the exams are over, you’re sitting at your dining room table, and you look up as you see him coming towards you, gingerly sitting down next you with a soft expression on his face

“i’m sorry” - he says as he hands you a note, folded neatly between his fingers like the ones he used to make for you in high school

as you open the note, your eyes scan down the page

it’s a long letter, one that obviously took him a long time to make

you start reading and you see a list of all the things he loves about you, and how he wishes he could treat you better and how he’s sorry about how he’s been lately and he wishes he could take away the pain he’s given you

tears well up in your eyes and threaten to spill down cheeks, you squeak out “thank you jirou”, and look down

he tilts your chin up to look at his face and you look each other in the eyes

“i love you”, he says

hirugami, SACHIROU

as a a veterinarian, hirugami encounters all sorts of different situations with animals brought into the clinic

some of them not so good ones

one day you get a call from one of the people he works with, saying that that day a dog was brought in that they almost couldn’t save and that hirugami probably wouldn’t be in a great mood when he got home

you sat in the living room for while, a little nervous of the state he would be in when he got home 

when you hear his key click in the lock of your front door, your heart skips a beat and you get up to go greet him, not expecting to see the dead look in his eyes as you looked up at his face

“hey, how’s everything going? are you oka-”

“can you just leave me alone please. i’ve had a long day.”, he interrupts you 

“are you sure? they said something happened at the clinic-”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“but-”

“ oh my god can you please stop talking? somebody’s dog almost fucking died because of me, i don’t want to hear you yammer on about whatever right now. just go away.” 

he slams your bedroom door behind him, latching it shut with a click

ouch.

 you walk away to go eat dinner alone, feeling like someone just stomped on your heart, chewed it up, and spat it out

the next day you wake up having slept on the couch, and go get ready in the bathroom and eat breakfast before getting ready to to work

as you’re about to walk out the door, you feel a hand gently grab yours, stopping you from leaving

you whip your head around to see your boyfriend with a remorseful expression on his face, a different hurt in his eyes this time 

he pulls you closer and kisses you forehead, saying how sorry he is for hurting you and how he didn’t mean it, how he let his feelings get the best of him

a little apprehensively, you bury your head into his chest and cling into his shirt so he knows you accept his apology

later that day, he takes you to your favorite restaurant and sits you down at a table close to the big window outlooking the scenery below

as snow drifts past, softly twinkling from the lights illuminating your view outside, but he’s looking at you instead

he knows he never wants to let go of you, maybe he’ll tell you that soon as he slips the ring in his pocket on your finger :)

iwaizumi, HAJIME

iwaizumi had never had any problems with jealousy in your relationship, or even just problems in general mostly

he trusts you, and he knows how much you love him

but recently you and oikawa had gotten paired together for a group project, and you had been spending more and more time together as a result

it wasn’t really a problem at the beginning since iwaizumi knew it was just a class project, but as time went on he couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist every time he walked by the library to see you working away happily, you laughing at something oikawa had said

he didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt seeing you like that with pretty boy oikawa.

pretty boy oikawa that all the girls he had ever liked liked him instead.

pretty boy oikawa that got all the stares as they walked by.

pretty boy oikawa that probably looked better with you than he did.

he walked away, knowing he shouldn’t feel defeated as his eyes droop and he looks down at the ground

he has trouble sleeping that night, his head full of thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking, images he doesn’t want see of you with him

the next day, you’re eating lunch together, and you notice he looks a little off, so you ask him if anything is wrong or if he needs to get something off his chest

“i’m fine”, he says with a flat tone

“are you sure? you don’t look okay, you know you can always talk to me right?”

“nothing’s wrong.”, he says again

you pester him again, as he starts to look more annoyed in the process

“why don’t you just talk to oikawa if you need to bug someone that bad, i’m sure he’ll love the attention from a little whore like you”

both of your eyes widen at what he said, not believing it fully

even iwaizumi knows that was completely out of line, even as someone who likes to tease to show affection

“fuck you hajime” , you say, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as you walk away from where you were sitting together

hajime feels like crying.

the next day he’s nervous to see you, knowing you’re probably still hurt from what he said, but still searching for you anyway

as he walks sheepishly up to you, you ask what he wants after the painful exchange you had yesterday

“i’m so sorry. nothing i said was true, and you didn’t deserve it at all. i got jealous of oikawa and i know it’s my fault and i want you to please forgive me because i can’t lose you and hate myself for letting it get the best of me.”, he lets out

“it’s okay hajime, i understand and i love you, but please don’t say anything like that ever agiain, it really hurt”

his heart breaks a little bit at hearing that, but he’s happy you still want to see him

“i love you too. more than anything, i promise i’ll never hurt you again.”

he wraps his big arms around you and holds you tight

you know he doesn’t want to let go, even when the bell rings letting you know you’re late for class

he doesn’t want to let go of you ever

the end :)

[siriuslyshewrote]

𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 - 𝐒.𝐁

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1,547

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 - can you do a young sirius black x reader fic with the prompts 112, 126, and 176.

"You know, it's okay to cry."

"I'll never leave again."

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -mentions of abuse, mentions of blood.

The harsh rapping upon your front door woke you from your slumber with a jolt. For a few seconds, chest heaving in a sort of panic, you sat up in bed, eyes wide and confused, before you swung your legs over the side of your bed and slipped onto the ground. Quietly, you tiptoed out of your room - grabbing the handy cricket bat that lay stationed beside your bedside cabinet - and crept down the stairs, eyes squinting as you tried to make out the shape through the frosted glass of the front door.

The clock on the wall of the hallway informed you that it was 4:40am, and through the glass door you could see the bruised purple of the sky as the sun began to rise.

Though your heart thrummed rapidly and uncomfortably in your chest, your fingers wrapped around the cricket bat and the front door handle simultaneously. Of course, something like this would happen when your parents had gone on holiday and left you alone to look after the house.

The person rapped sharply upon the door again as you threw it upon, half raising the cricket bat, eyes wide and panicked.

Sirius Black turned his eyes upon you, a half grin appearing upon his bloodied face, though it was obviously forced.

He let out a snort, looking at the cricket bat.

"Merlin, Y/N, I know you're a muggleborn but I didn't realise you forgot you had magic in the summer. What were you going to do with that?”

The cricket bat fell from between your fingers to the carpeted floor with an audible thump. Across the street, you saw your neighbours curtains twitch, and you appraised Sirius, dressed to the nines with wizarding robes, grabbing his hand gently, tugging him inside the house and shutting the door behind him.

"Sirius, what the hell happened?" You whispered, cold fingers brushing against the skin of his face, his bloody nose and split lip. He shivered slightly, under your touch.

His eyes glanced around your dimly lit hallway, fingers trailing over the patterned wallpaper.

"So this is your house, then. It's nice.”

"Sirius." You hand wrapped gently around his jaw, turning his face to look at you again.

His eyes were bloodshot and red - he'd clearly been crying - but, as usual, Sirius was refusing to show any weakness. It was one of his more frustrating attributes - attributes you knew all too well, after being friends with him for six years.

He was fidgeting with his fingers, a very un-Sirius Black thing to do, as your cool hands wrapped around his warm ones, tugging him along with you.

“Come on,” you whispered, pulling him up the stairs behind you, and into your room.

You scrabbled around in your bedside drawer for your wand for several seconds - in a way, Sirius was right, you half forgot you could use magic at home now you were seventeen - and came up victorious, twirling it around your fingers almost anxiously as you turned around to see Sirius standing in the doorway. Being in any sort of proximity to your friend like this had made you feel uncomfortable as of late, though you would never tell him that, nor would you tell him of the feelings you had buried deep down, though that hardly mattered now.

You appraised him, as he appraised your room, leaning against the doorway. It was only now that you realised that there was a backpack slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back away from his face, which was unnaturally pale and shadowed, and his nose looked crooked in the light the streamed through your open window.

“You know, Y/N, if you wanted me in your room, you only needed to ask.” He shot you a grin, but you couldn’t muster a smile upon your face as you wiped your eyes wearily with your arm.

“If you aren’t going to tell me what happened, you can at least let me heal you.” You said softly, indicating towards your bed for him to sit.

He had no jokes for that, and seemed almost awkward as he sat down atop your small twin sized bed.

You worked in silence for several minutes, carefully siphoning dried blood from atop his face and neck, the source of which was his now very clearly broken nose. His hands, whilst you worked close enough to hear his beating heart - unless it was yours thumping loudly in your ears - fidgeted with the bottom of the large t-shirt in which you slept.

“Why did you never invite me here?”

His voice wasn’t teasing this time, just curious as you waved your wand over his bruised lip, whispering enchantments that you remembered from the Hogwarts Hospital Wing from the many times you had been there. That was a side effect of being friends with the Marauders, you supposed.

You let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t particularly humorous - you couldn’t be when he was sat in pain in front of you.

“I suppose I could never imagine Sirius Black in my tiny muggle house. Hold still - this is going to sting a little. Episkey.”

You tapped his nose, hoping he didn’t see the way your other fingers were crossed in hope. You let a slow smile come to your face as his nose righted itself.

“There,” you spoke, laying down your wand on the bedside cabinet. “You have your pretty face back.”

He leant forward, as you stood in front of him, leaning his head upon your abdomen, his hair falling to hide the rest of his face, which you supposed was the point. You almost jumped in shock, before your hands went to his hair, threading through it in a gesture that you hoped was soothing.

“They wanted me to join him.” His mumbled words were almost unintelligible, but you froze as you heard them.

“You don’t mean-“ You spoke haltingly.

He nodded, and you felt his head move against your stomach.Your t-shirt was now slightly damp where his head rested, and you had a feeling that that was why he was hiding. You didn’t think you had ever seen Sirius cry.

“I didn’t, Y/N - I swear-“ His voice cracked at the same time your heart broke slightly.

“I know, Si,” You whispered, running your fingers through his hair again comfortingly. “I know.”

He sniffed, trying to subtly wipe his eyes as he pulled away from you.

“You know, it’s okay to cry.” You murmured, though you turned away slightly.

Crying always felt like such a deeply private thing. Especially for Sirius.

“I’ve left them - I mean, I’ve left home.” He looked up at you, teeth pulling against his just healed lip. “I don’t know why I came here, Y/N, I’m sorry, it was just - you were just the first person I thought of when I was apparating.”

“You know I’m always here.”

Your hand found his and squeezed it for a long, quiet, moment.

“Have you got spare clothes?” You glanced at his backpack in question.

He nodded, fidgeting once again with his robes.

“I’ll let you get changed, then - d’you want a cup of tea, or anything?”

He shot you a watery smile.

“You and Moony think tea fixes everything. It's very… British of you.”

“Tea does fix everything.” You argued back teasingly, walking out of the door, though the joke fell rather flat when you remembered his face.

You would try for the rest of your life to wipe the memory of his broken face out of your mind.

You took a ridiculously long time to make the tea, and only realised that your hands were shaking when you were spooning heavy amounts of sugar into the steaming mugs.You had heard somewhere that sugar helped with shock, and so you stirred in another spoonful before your hands wrapped around the boiling mugs - burning your skin slightly - before making your way back up to your room.

Sirius had made himself at home easily - lying stretched out against the duvet, languidly like a dog, his eyes fluttered shut, though they opened as you entered the room once more, placing the cups of tea upon the bedside drawers.

“Feeling better?” You asked, sitting on the edge of the bed glancing at your friend.

He still looked sickly pale, though he jerked his chin in a nod.

You made to get back up - to do something useful with your hands to stop you from fidgeting. His own, warm, hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back to him, until you almost fell on top of the boy, narrowly avoiding him. You let out a startled gasp and he groggily laughed.

“Please don’t leave.” He muttered against your hairline, and at that, you relaxed against him. “Please.”

“I’ll never leave again.” You promised him, nose pressed up against his t-shirt filling you with the smell of cigarettes and cologne.

Your hand found his chest - laying above his heart so you could feel the strong thrumming against your palm - as his own arm wrapped around your form, pulling you closer to him, as your legs tangled together.

The two of you fell asleep like that, a mess of tangled limbs, and slept for a long time, safe and content with one another.