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starlightkyeom · 9 days ago

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all the petty scenes & all the pretty things | hjs

(where your best friend organizes a weekend away for all your single friends on valentine's and you have to deal with his very annoying roommate)

pairing: joshua hong x f!reader genre: (one-sided) enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers (kinda) | smut & fluff rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 20.5k warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, drinking games, this is vaguely a long valentine's weekend (the holiday is barely mentioned), best friend jeonghan (yes, that's a warning), joshua is a menace, but reader is a bit of an unreliable narrator, so much kissing, multiple sex scenes, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (they talk about it but don't do this), oral sex (f. receiving), some scratching, teasing, briefest edging?, aftercare, nipple/breast play, briefest mention of thigh riding, come eating, idk joshua is just pussy whipped and down horrendous

a/n: another one for the Lonely Hearts Collab organized by the incredibly talented @camandemstudios. please make sure you check out the other amazing fics (like i will be now that i've gotten through both). i'm not really sure what to say about this. something happens when i write joshua and it just...gets away from me. thank you to @tomodachiii, @highvern, and @lovetaroandtaemin for sprinting with me at the end to keep me motivated. and thank you to @100vern for supporting whatever characterization of joshua i wanted.

tag list at the end (join here)

When your best friend, Jeonghan, suggests going away as a group of friends for a Valentine’s trip, you don’t really ask any questions. He says that he wants the trip to be more about friendships than romantic relationships and that sounds great since you’re single at the moment. You don’t hate the holiday or anything. It’s just nice to know that you’ll have something to do that doesn’t revolve around whether or not you’re dating someone. And he says that it’s all going to be planned and all you have to do is show up. Sounds pretty good to you. You give him your budget so that he can find something that works for everyone and pretend you actually had the option on whether you agreed. You don’t have the option, you know, because Jeonghan wasn’t asking. Besides, Jeonghan has been your best friend for years, so you know that it’ll be fun.

It occurs to you when the trip gets closer that Jeonghan is your best friend and you really should know to ask for more details. You know better. Part of that includes just which friends that he’s invited to this trip or if there are any that you’re not also friends with. Generally speaking, Jeonghan has excellent taste in friends. He’s intentional with his time, always has been. It also usually takes him time to get comfortable with newer people. So, when he counts someone as a close friend, you typically know it’s someone that you’re also going to like. It’s why you have nearly identical friend circles. The one exception? His new roommate that you actually cannot stand.

A few months ago, someone new moved into Jeonghan’s apartment after his old roommate and a close friend of both of yours, Wonwoo, moved out to live with his girlfriend. Enter Joshua. At first appearance, he’s kind, patient, artistic, and funny. Nothing that raises any sort of red flags. All your friends seem to like him immediately and none of them can seem to understand your beef with him. Especially since he never has anything negative to say about you. It makes you feel a little crazy. But, you know that you’re not. You know that this man may be just as petty as you and you know that sometimes he fucks with you just because he can. Never anything malicious. He’s not actually a terrible person. He just seems to delight in the fact that you don’t like him and that your friends give you a hard time over it. Can’t understand your issue when so many of them also love to fuck with you.

You consider backing out when Jeonghan conveniently lets you know exactly who’s coming a few days before leaving. Up until that point, he was relatively vague. Just the standard group of friends you hang out with. Nobody that creates any sort of problems. He reminds you, when you want to back out, that the deposit is already down on the rental house and the activities are already set. You’re locked into time off from work regardless of going or not. Plus, all the rest of your favorite people (the single ones, at least) will be there so why not just go on the trip anyway? What’s the worst that can happen?

You think you’re going to be revisiting that conversation a lot over the course of the trip.

By the time the trip actually comes around, you’re looking forward to it. So what if Joshua is going to be there? It’s a decent sized group going and the listing for the house you’re staying in is beautiful. There are plenty of places for you to hang out without being on top of someone you don’t like that much. Plus, the shortened week leading up to the trip has crawled by. You need this break. Haven’t really had one since the new year started. Thankfully, you’re able to get done with your work on time and are out the door without giving anyone the chance to add more work onto your plate.

When you get into your car a few minutes later, after changing into something more comfortable for the ride, you take a deep breath. Half an hour later, you have another of your closest friends, Jennie, in the front seat and the pair of you are off to your getaway. You’re happy that it’s just you and her because at least she hears you out on not liking Joshua. Doesn’t really have any suggestions, but she’s a good ear and an even better partner in crime for the drive up. She has playlists ready, snacks packed, and even a little cooler of drinks. All of that means that you only have to stop once for a bathroom break, to get a little more gas, and to see if you can get something more resembling actual food. The car ride itself is uneventful.

Once you get to the house? Not so much. Based on the cars already there, you think that you and Jennie might be the last ones to show up. That only feels confirmed when you get into the house and everyone is already spread out and making themselves at home. Jeonghan is quick to come over, a little bit of alcohol on his breath, and welcome you. He lets you know that rooms aren’t decided yet and they wanted to make sure you were there before assigning anything.

And of course, in typical Jeonghan fashion, he has to make it a game for you to figure out where you’re all going to be sleeping. Everyone gets a quick chance to look through the rooms and see which they might want. Of course, you instantly fall in love with the feel of one room. It shouldn’t matter but the colors feel relaxing, the artwork on the walls is your style, and the beds feel comfy. You give Jennie a look that clearly says you should try to share it. Which shouldn’t be an issue because it’s not even the fanciest room. Once you all look at the rooms, you draw for numbers and Jeonghan explains that you’ll go in order and stand in the room you want. If more people want a room than it fits, then they’ll have to come up with a way to decide who gets it. It’s kind of silly, but everyone seems into it and you just go along. Find yourself getting a little excited when you get to go second, too.

When it’s your turn, you head straight for the room you want and let out a sigh of relief seeing it’s empty. Jennie has a higher number, so you’ll have to wait to see what happens. It seems like everything is going to go well until Joshua walks into the room with that obnoxious smile on his face. You figure he’ll turn around when he sees you. Instead, he smiles more and plops himself down on the free bed. You are determined not to say anything to him and just wait for Jennie to come along. Only…she never does. Jeonghan calls through the house to say that everyone has picked their rooms and to figure it out if there are too many people in the room.

“You look confused,” he observes and the furrow in your brow deepens.

“I was expecting…” you start and shake your head.

“Jennie?” he asks and you frown. “I mentioned that I also really wanted this room and she said she would try for a different room since I was before her.”

“Traitor,” you say under your breath.

“What’s that?” he asks, clearly amused.

“Nothing,” you say. “You could have picked another room, too, you know.”

“All we have to do here is sleep. The beds in this room are the most comfortable and they’re facing the right way. The decorations are relaxing enough that it'll be easy to fall asleep. I want this room,” he says.

“But, I’m here,” you say kind of lamely.

“Not the same problem it is for me that it is for you. You’re welcome to switch with someone else, though,” he says.

“Not a…you hate me,” you say incredulously.

“No, I don’t. Why would you think that?” Joshua asks and you just blink at him.

“Because you’re always fucking with me,” you say stupidly.

Joshua tsks with that infuriating smile still firmly in place. “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t hate you and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But…” you start as he gets to his feet.

“I’m going to get my bags. Do you want me to grab yours as well?” he asks. You try to splutter out a response which only makes him smile more knowingly.

Once you gather your thoughts, you also get up to get your own bags. He may have thrown you off for a second, but you’re stubborn and you’re not letting him win at this. You’re not really sure what game he’s playing or why he’s messing with you this way. You’re also not sure why Jennie let you fall into this situation without so much as a fight. That’s a conversation for later when you know that you won’t be overheard. For now, you’re going to get settled in the house and have a very large drink. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, after all, and you’re going to need all of your strength.

Your first night goes much easier than you expect. There are enough people that you don’t have to directly interact with your new roommate for the trip. Then, you’re asleep before Joshua comes to bed. Somehow, he’s already out of bed before you get up. A sure sign that you managed to get peaceful sleep. Another sign that you made the right call with the bedroom. It just feels really relaxing. That peace lasts as long as it takes you to get dressed and head out into the kitchen area for coffee. Joshua looks like he’s holding court as he uses the unnecessarily elaborate coffee machine to fill everyone’s orders. And like every other time, they all look completely happy to have him around. You cannot understand it. This is the man that’s been terrorizing you since moving in with Jeonghan and acting like he’s an innocent little angel. Constantly telling you that he would never be chaotic or a menace. It makes you insane.

(Terrorizing is an incredibly strong word and the rational part of you knows that. Knows that he’s not some evil demon sent from Hell to fight with you, specifically. Knows he doesn’t fuck with you anymore than someone like Jeonghan does. The irrational part of you has decided that fighting with him is the hill you’re willing to die on. That irrational part doesn’t even consider there could be a reason for him acting the way he does with you.)

“Oh this is so cute!” Jennie says as he hands over her mug with perfect latte art. You didn’t realize this was some fancy coffee house set up.

Joshua smiles soft, the kind that he never shows you, and pushes his glasses back up his nose. Nobody should be allowed to look that good while wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt. But, he’s got that just rolled out of bed look that would work if you didn’t hate everything about him. His eyes land on you and his smile changes entirely. You think it looks like he’s up to something. Jennie turns around and catches sight of you.

“Babe! You have to let Shua make you coffee. Look how cute this is!” she squeals and shows off her cup as you walk over to her.

“Shua?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, you can still just call me Joshua,” he says like he’s doing you a favor.

“How about Satan?” you ask under your breath.

His face lights up with that all-too-common look of mischief and you know he heard you. “You know, I prefer Lucifer, actually.”

“Why is that?” you ask. “They were the same.”

“In theory, maybe. But, we talk more about Lucifer being a fallen angel than Satan. Plus, it just sounds better, especially when you add Morningstar onto the end. Just a fallen star,” he says and you roll your eyes. He turns back to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

“Are you asking me?” you say and look around. Everyone else seems to have coffee already.

“Who else?” he answers with a question of his own. A challenge implicit in the words

“I can make my own, thanks,” you say. “You might put salt into it instead of sugar.”

He turns around, a lock of faux outrage on his face. “Wow.”

“Come on. Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jennie asks. It’s just the three of you at the kitchen island.

“Oh, coming from the traitor,” you say without any real heat to it.

Jennie shrugs, entirely unashamed. “I’m sharing with Seungcheol. He doesn’t snore and he might’ve had to share the bed with Mingyu otherwise. When Joshua said he wanted your same room, I didn’t feel like fighting when I still might lose.”

You sigh at her and Joshua just watches the exchange with more interest than you expect. “So, where are we on letting me make your coffee?”

“Fine,” you say with another sigh.

Jennie only chuckles under her breath as she gets up off the stool, coffee in hand. “Enjoy.”

Joshua looks at you with the same annoying smile and asks how you like your coffee. You answer him while saying as little as possible and he’s off to work. It’s a nice break once he turns around. He can’t give you shit while he’s focusing so hard on the drink. For a second, you even forget to watch the ingredients he uses. He’s so peaceful. Thankfully (for you, at least), you shake yourself out of it before he turns back around with your mug.

“Here,” he says and hands it over with the sly smile he saves for you. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

It’s casual, the way he says it. Like the way you would say it to an acquaintance or even a newer friend. Certainly not the way you expect him to say it to you. Actually, you don’t expect to hear him say it at all. You roll your eyes for the hundredth time. “Thanks, you too.”

His eyes are still on you and it’s unnerving. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

The alarm bells go off in your head. It’s so easy to imagine him fucking with you. It’s not like you could see through his body to know what he was doing while making the coffee. If you say anything now, though, and it’s a normal cup, then you’ll be the one who seems crazy. All that’s left to do is (begrudgingly) take a sip. Which you do. It takes everything in you not to give away that it’s the best cup of coffee in your life. How does he manage to make it taste so good? How does he get perfect portions of everything?

You must not totally control your face because he smiles again like he can read your mind. Then he prompts the answer he must already know. “So?”

“It’s not bad,” you say noncommittally.

“Not bad?” Seungcheol asks. It’s beyond you how that man manages to sneak up on you. Makes you start a little. He only chuckles at that and puts a hand on your arm to steady you. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“It’s fine,” you say with a smile. After all, you don’t have beef with him. Jeonghan, maybe, and Joshua, definitely, but not Seungcheol. You can’t blame Jennie for saving him from sharing a bed with Mingyu when Mingyu sleeps like a starfish.

“This is the best coffee I’ve ever had. I want to pay him to just make me a cup whenever I need it,” he jokes.

Joshua shrugs, feigning a humility that you know he doesn’t feel. It’s the version of him that everyone else but you seems to get. It just feels so fake. Doesn’t occur to you that maybe it’s all the real him. That he could be both a chaos demon and a genuinely nice person all at once. Or maybe you’re getting the fake version of him.

“It’s nothing,” Joshua says, like the compliment makes him shy. “I worked as a barista while I was in school. Got pretty good at it because it meant better tips.”

“You know, maybe we should talk about you opening a coffee shop. I know some people who might want to invest and you’re wasting away in an office job. You’re much better around people,” Seungcheol says.

You snort and quickly cover it. Although Seungcheol seems to second guess what he heard, one look at Joshua tells you he knows. His face is even again by the time the other man looks back. Leave it to Seungcheol and his giant heart to want to help someone who may not even deserve it. Before you can say anything else, you excuse yourself from the conversation with a final forced thank you. You don’t want to spend the whole weekend feeling crazy any time someone sees you bickering with Joshua. With a whole weekend like this, he’s bound to show his true colors. And you’ll be waiting for that moment. No, you don’t think that’s crazy at all. It’s just how it has to be.

The rest of the morning and afternoon pass in kind of a blur. You and Jennie offer to do the big grocery shopping trip to get everything on the communal list. There had been a little bit of food, some drinks, and plenty of coffee. But, you need food for the rest of the weekend, especially with tonight being a meal in the house to avoid the insanity of Valentine’s Day crowds. Shopping the night before just hadn’t been on the agenda either. So, you and Jennie head out to brave any last minute shoppers with a (slightly longer than expected) list of what you think you’ll need the rest of the weekend.

Once you get back, Jeonghan is quick to take over while ushering you off to hang out in the living room. You’re not sure if he unpacks the groceries, or, more realistically, gets someone else to handle it. That’s definitely something nice about having a house full of people. There’s no shortage of helping hands. It’s just nice to get to sit for a minute. The grocery store had been busier than expected. You don’t mind crowds, neither does Jennie. There’s just something about holidays that seems to bring out the worst in those that are out last minute.

It seems like people have scattered while you were at the store. The weather doesn’t quite feel warm enough to be outside. It is sunny, though, and that seems like enough to pull some of your friends outside to kick a ball around. Definitely not something that appeals to you. Instead, you drift over to join Jun and Jeonghan playing a boardgame. Most of your friends have a rule against playing games with Jeonghan because he’s not above cheating for fun. Or just to win since he can be competitive. That’s never been a rule you bothered with. It’s just as fun for you to see his reactions when you don’t react to his cheating. That can be more fun than the game itself. Besides, you’re pretty good at a lot of the games he plays. It’s a safe option while Joshua is outside.

Eventually, Jun has to excuse himself from your games. Not really a big loss to Jeonghan since Jun really only joined for the vibes and because running around outside felt like too much work. As the afternoon slips away, he leaves to join Mingyu in the kitchen. The two of them are tackling dinner for the entire group. A fact you’re all happy with since they’re both incredible cooks. You, personally, are less excited when Joshua plops into Jun’s vacated seat, freshly showered after being outside. His hair is still wet as he shakes it out a little and runs a hand through it to get it out of his face.

“What’s with the glasses today?” Jeonghan asks and Joshua rolls his eyes.

“I wear glasses a lot. Are you saying that you’re not just always staring at my face?” Joshua retorts. Jeonghan is the only other person Joshua ever messes around with. But, it’s very different than with you. Those two banter. Sass each other back and forth. Joshua genuinely fucks with you. At least, that’s how it feels to you.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at his roommate and glances over at you for some reason. Even as long as you’ve been friends, you still can’t read the look on your best friend’s face. It looks like he’s putting something together and you have no idea what. Aren’t sure you want to know, honestly. He and Joshua may not have been roommates long, but Jeonghan considers them two peas in a pod. Yet, somehow everyone knows Jeonghan is a demon with a kind heart, while nobody thinks Joshua is anything but sweet.

“Please tell me you didn’t wear glasses so…” your best friend starts, only to be quickly cut off.

“I thought we were playing games over here,” Joshua interrupts. Although Jeonghan narrows his eyes, he doesn’t comment further. Weird.

“I’ll leave the roommates to it,” you say flatly and start to stand up. Jeonghan grabs your arm gently, so you could pull away if you wanted. It’s just to get your attention.

“Come on, you can’t abandon us. The games are more fun with more than two people,” he says. Gives you that angelic smile you still haven’t figured out how to ignore after years of friendship.

“I was going to…” you start and trail off when a good excuse eludes you.

“What?” Jeonghan challenges with that sparkle in his eye. “Help in the kitchen? Watch whatever Jennie is trying to teach Cheol? Let Soonyoung corner you the way he probably cornered Jihoon and Sana to talk about his idea to adopt a tiger?”

“He’s a menace,” you protest weakly, glancing briefly at Joshua. He’s been watching the exchange with clear interest and this makes him laugh.

“Jeonghan is your best friend!” he says while holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, but everyone knows he’s a menace,” you start.

“Hey!”

“Oh you are, Hannie, don’t deny it.”

“Still.” He pouts at you and you know it means he’s not actually upset. He is a menace and the most loyal person you know. It’s fine.

“You, on the other hand,” you say, turning to Joshua. He gives you a look of polite interest. “You’re a menace and everyone thinks you’re an angel.”

“I am an angel,” he says with a shrug.

“Every day the universe tests my patience,” you say under your breath.

“Just play with us,” Jeonghan says and you sigh.

“Fine.”

In some ways, it is actually funnier than playing with Jun. Joshua tries to be stealthy as he cheats, but you’re best friends with Jeonghan and you’ve absolutely seen it all. The normal rules go out the window and you all try to see who can be the sneakiest in cheating for an advantage. Your best friend receives a shock with how well you keep pace. Not that it should be surprising. You pick things up with Jeonghan in your life. Despite how much fun you’re having, you stop just short of admitting that. Can’t let Joshua have the satisfaction.

Eventually, it’s time for everyone to head back to their rooms to get ready for dinner. Even though you’re staying in, everyone wants to get dressed up. Pretend you’re all fancy for no real reason. You let Joshua go back to the room first. He and Sana are relieving Mingyu and Jun so that they can also get ready for dinner. At least you have the confidence neither of them will burn anything. He’s changed by the time you return to the room and sit down on your bed to do your makeup.

“Trying to impress someone?” he asks, voice low in a way that’s unfamiliar to you.

It makes you glance up at him sharply, searching to understand the tone. He doesn’t have his standard sly grin on his face and it’s a little disarming. Instead, he’s studying your face. “Sometimes I just like to look nice.”

Joshua turns to grab his watch and says something under his breath. Something so quiet that you can’t hear it even looking right at him. Can’t read his lips either since you’re looking at his profile. He seems so concentrated and, for once, unguarded. It gives you a moment to take him in when you usually try not to linger on him for more than a moment. He’s wearing a crisp dress shirt with the top few buttons undone. Just the right amount of casual and dressy. Your eyes linger on his necklace that should look a little too fine or thin, yet somehow works on him. It’s an interesting combination. Something you might expect to see on Jeonghan with all his delicate features. Lost in your consideration of the piece of jewelry, you miss the moment Joshua finishes fastening this watch and looks back up.

“Were you staring at me?” he asks and you’re not surprised to hear his usual tone back. Maybe a little cockiness thrown in for good measure.

“Your necklace, actually,” you answer. It comes out much more smooth than you feel after being caught staring at your enemy.

He chuckles and touches a hand to it. Runs a careful finger along the chain. Then, he smirks at you and you know there’s no good that can come from that. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you borrow it.”

A million things run through your head at that statement. None of them can come out of your mouth, though. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Sana in the kitchen so our lovely chefs can get ready?”

“Sure,” he agrees easily and you like that tone even less. It’s like he knows some kind of secret that you’re not in on. It’s unnerving. He turns to the door before giving you a chance to say anything else. “See you at dinner.”

What the hell was that?

You finish getting ready and head out into the dining area to find Jennie and Soonyoung setting the table. As seems to be usual, he has entirely too much energy for such a simple task. It’s kind of endearing, really. Everything with him around the group feels exciting, even the boring things. Jeonghan is just behind them with little name cards to assign you where to sit. You would roll your eyes if it weren’t so completely him. Though, he seems to have taken at least a partial night off from causing problems on purpose. Your seat is between Jennie and Jihoon, which seems harmless enough. Knowing Ji, he may not even have much to say.

As something to do, you help bring food to the table. Everything looks amazing. Not that it’s a surprise. If Seungcheol wants to pay Joshua to make him coffee every day, you wish you could pay Mingyu to cook all your meals. Even as the one who went grocery shopping, you aren’t expecting this. There’s an assortment of dishes, both hot and cold, with something seemingly from every food group. And it smells even better than it looks. Everyone loads up their plates and takes their assigned seats. Naturally, Jeonghan sits at the head. And, of course, Joshua is sitting across from you. Not directly across from you, no. Jeonghan has him sitting across from Jennie. It seems deliberate since you’re far more likely to turn to chat with Jennie than Jihoon. But, nothing should ruin your mood or this dinner. Instead, you heap your praise on Mingyu and Jun before digging in. Just kind of follow the conversation as it goes.

Dinner is just as amazing as you imagined it would be. Even cleaning up after dinner goes quickly. And then it’s to the part of the night Jeonghan seems most excited about: drinking and playing games. Multiple people veto Soonyoung’s request to play strip poker, causing him to pout. So, Seungcheol jumps in with another card game where you can all drink and keep your clothes on. Someone seems to mutter that everyone keeping their clothes on is boring, earning a chuckle. Still, you all settle around a large coffee table and start drinking. Jihoon joins once he gets a playlist going for background music.

The game lasts longer than you expect before Soonyoung starts to lose interest again. And he doesn’t seem to be alone. He’s giggling along with Jun and Sana, the lightest of the lightweights in the group when it comes to drinking. None of them are really paying attention to their turns, but how can you be mad? They’re all so cute. So happy.

“Oh I know!” Soonyoung says, volume several settings too loud.

“Inside voice, Soonie,” Sana giggles.

“We should play truth or dare,” he says. It’s still a bit too loud, but at least your ears don’t hurt.

“Soonyoung, we’re adults,” Jihoon says, only a slight flush to his cheeks showing he’s been drinking.

“Which makes it even more fun,” Jun chimes in.

Jihoon looks around for support. Looks for someone else to object. Most people only shrug. You all know that Soonyoung is going to get what he wants. He’s got a cute pout and he never asks for anything that would actually make someone uncomfortable. Why not play a silly game while drinking with friends on a getaway to forget none of you are in relationships at the moment? What could possibly go wrong?

The first few rounds, as always, are pretty mild. Nobody wants to be the first one to cross the line into something a little raunchier. Then the drinks keep flowing and people seem to get a little looser. Soonyoung gives Sana a lap dance that has the entire group on the edge of their seats. Jihoon has to admit that he wrote half a dozen songs about a crush on Sana when he first got started (which earns him a kiss on the cheek from the woman in question). Mingyu has to share a sexual fantasy. Sana has to suck on someone’s fingers (and picks Jihoon, which makes his cheeks flush). Around and around it goes with the only constant being that neither option is safer. It all depends on who’s asking and who they’re asking. The majority of what comes out is known to at least part of the group since most of you have been friends for years. It’s also all in good fun while the drinks flow.

“Joshua, truth or dare?” Jeonghan says and his roommate seems delighted.

“Dare, obviously,” he says without a second thought.

You roll your eyes and take a drink while you watch Jeonghan pretend to consider. It’s an act, one you know well. He knows what he’s going to say and it comes out a second later. “I dare you to whisper in someone’s ear til they blush.”

“Something dirty?” Joshua asks.

Jeonghan just shrugs. “Up to you about whatever you think will work best.”

Joshua casts his eyes around the group like he’s actually considering. You figure he’ll probably pick someone whose cheeks are already a bit flushed from drinking. Make it easier on himself. That’s what Jeonghan would do, at least. It’s only when you realize that he’s moving towards you that you get a little nervous. Jennie offers you a smile before getting up so that he can sit next to you. You really need to get better friends. It should be fine, though, because you don’t blush that easily. Definitely not because of someone you don’t even like.

Your other friends seem to move a little further away, too. Maybe so they can see better or maybe so they don’t hear what he says. This is a test of wills and it’s one you intend to win as you give him the most neutral look. Unfortunately, he surprises you right from the start by gently taking hold of your chin and turning your face away from him. His fingers are just as gentle when they push your hair away from your ear. It’s the way you treat someone you actually like, not someone you constantly terrorize. The warmth from his breath tickles you as he leans into your ear.

“You think you have me fooled. Want me to think that you can’t stand me,” he begins and you’re already fighting off a shiver. His voice is low, as smooth as honey and just as sweet. He keeps a hand around the back of your head and one in front of his own face to create the illusion of privacy. Even though nobody else could hear him with his voice so low.

“I know, though. I know there’s a very fine line between hate and…desire. I saw the way you looked at my necklace earlier. Tracked the way you watched my fingers slide along the smooth chain. Were you imagining what else my fingers could do? Maybe you want to imagine them sliding across your lips. I’d do it if all our friends weren’t watching. Or maybe you were thinking about having my fingers ghost over your neck. Applying feather light pressure.”

It’s getting harder for you to keep your cool. There’s a slideshow of the least sexy images that you can conjure playing in your mind. You cannot lose this to Joshua, of all people. Anyone else, fine. Just not him.

“Hmm. Or maybe it’s my mouth that gets you going. That mouth that’s always terrorizing you. Always seems to have something to say. Do you want to know what it feels like pressed into your skin? Do you want to imagine me dipping my head down from your ear? Can you imagine me sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck and then soothing you by running my tongue over the spot? I will keep kissing down your skin. Finding every spot that makes you moan. I bet you make the sweetest sounds…”

“BESTIE!” Jeonghan says, nearly shrieking with delight. “Oh my god, I cannot believe he got you!”

Joshua pulls away with the worst grin you’ve ever seen and you just huff out in annoyance. Cross your arms and firmly look anywhere but Joshua. It’s all you can do to try and calm down the rapid beating of your heart. You shake your head and then glare at your best friend.

“What was he saying?” Mingyu asks, feeding too much into bullshit.

“That’s between us,” Joshua says as he gets up to return to his original seat.

“Cannot believe he managed to make our strongest soldier blush like that,” Sana says through a giggle.

“Is she?” Joshua asks Sana, seeming genuinely intrigued. Sana raises her eyebrows in question. “Our strongest soldier?”

“Yeah, nothing gets her, usually,” Mingyu says and you cast a look at him for betraying you.

“It was like he was reading some smutty book to me. I wasn’t even thinking about it being him,” you say with a pout.

“Sure, sure,” Jeonghan says dismissively and turns to his roommate. “Your turn.”

Part of you expects him to turn it right back on you given the look on his face. He surprises you, though, and turns over to Sana. You space out on whatever the truth or dare is. Kind of can’t think about anything other than the things Joshua whispered into your ear. You know he didn’t mean any of it. There’s no world where Joshua wants to do any of those things with you. And no world where you want him too, either, you remind yourself. It just kills you that he won this round. You refocus just in time to hear Sana direct the next question to you.

“Truth or dare?” she asks

Sana is trustworthy. Not someone out to get you, so it’s easy to answer. “Dare.”

“Kiss the most attractive person…” she starts, only to get an elbow to the side from Soonyoung. “Sorry, I want you to kiss the most attractive guy on the lips for at least 5 seconds. Jennie and I are off the table.”

“What would it take to get you on the table?” Seungcheol jokes and somehow keeps it from sounding sleazy.

You roll your eyes and look around the group. All of your friends are pretty, which makes something like this hard. Easy to overthink, too. That’s when it hits you. Quickly rising, you make it seem like you’re heading towards Joshua. His face shows surprise for the briefest moment. At the last second, you curve towards Mingyu.

“Can I kiss you?”

He chuckles, catching onto your game immediately. “Not like it’s the first time.”

You lean in and press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing that deep, but you do make sure it lasts longer than five seconds. When you pull away, Joshua seems to be watching intently. Even follows you back to your seat.

“Hey, now why does Mingyu get to be the most attractive?” Soonyoung protests with a pout.

“Maybe because he’s a literal model?” Jennie says with a laugh.

“Details,” Soonyoung says dismissively.

During the exchange you look back at Joshua and tune out the bickering. You find his eyes already on you, an unreadable look on his face. “Truth or dare?”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement.

His eyes narrow, just for a second. “Truth.”

“What’s your most embarrassing sex story?”

The question seems to catch him further off guard and you’re not sure what he expected you to ask. Maybe he thought you would ask about why he’s always terrorizing you. This is infinitely better, though. The way he answers will tell you a lot about him.

He actually launches into a legitimate story. Apparently, he had been dating someone and wanted to spice things up a little in the relationship. So, he let himself into her apartment to set up a little dinner for them and then stripped down to a sexy waiter outfit. Just cuffs, a collar, and the tiniest underwear known to man. The only problem was that she didn’t know that he was setting up the surprise and showed up back at her place with her parents, who he had not even met yet. He was never able to recover from it and they broke up. It’s not technically a sex story, but you let him have it because it’s definitely embarrassing.

The game carries on once again. The truths and dares get bolder until someone reels it back in with something a little tamer and the cycle resets. You think you might be in the clear, even though your mind still lingers in places you wish it wouldn’t. If your friends can tell you’re zoning out, they don’t call you on it. You’re actually surprised the game has gone on this long with everyone drinking and being silly. It’s kind of nice too, though, to get to take a break from real world responsibilities. There’s a lightness to the whole night that makes you warm. At least, that’s what you’re deciding has you feeling the way you are.

“Okay, last one and then we’re moving onto a drinking game,” Seungcheol says.

“Bossy,” Jennie comments and earns a smattering of chuckles.

“You up for it?” Seungcheol asks Joshua.

“Sure, dare,” he says without missing a beat.

“No more of this whispering in her ear to make her blush, I want to see an actual kiss,” Seungcheol says and looks right at you.

“Excuse me?” you ask. He’s the last person you imagine engaging in whatever this is that the rest of your friends are up to.

“I could cut the tension with a knife and I just wanna see if it’s one sided,” he says, unapologetic.

“Didn’t take you as the type who liked to watch,” Jeonghan says, shit-eating grin taking over his face.

“Oh, I’m into all sorts of things, but we can talk about that later,” Seungcheol says with a wink at Jeonghan. You forget, sometimes, that he can be just as insufferable as your best friend. He turns back to you. “You can back out, though.”

Joshua is watching you for your reaction and his face is unreadable. It’s impossible to tell if he actually wants to do this or if he’s just going along with the game. You know that he won’t follow through if you say no, though. Maybe it’s the drinks coursing through you, but it doesn’t feel like the worst thing in the world. The buzz in your veins is pleasant and you know you’re still totally in control.

“Well?” Joshua presses when you don’t say anything.

You try to seem unaffected again by rolling your eyes. Can tell by the looks you get that it doesn’t really work. So, you huff out a short reply. “Fine.”

For the second time tonight, Joshua rises from his seat and crosses to you. Jennie doesn’t even get a chance to move this time because he reaches a hand to you and pulls you to your feet. It’s gentle again, just like he was when he whispered filth into your ear. Almost cautiously, he puts one hand on your waist, sliding it along so it’s on your back as he pulls you into him. His other hand rests on your cheek and then he kisses you. Not just a peck like you’re expecting. His lips are impossibly soft and it takes everything in you not to sink further into it. To fight the way your body wants to respond to his touch. The next second, he pulls back. When you meet his eyes, it’s the first time you can remember seeing him look like that. Soft, unguarded, curious. The mask slips back into place when he steps away.

“Satisfied?” Joshua asks Seungcheol.

“Oh, definitely.”

Nobody says anything about the kiss as you move into whatever drinking game Seungcheol picks to play next. There are plenty of looks that both you and Joshua miss, though. It’s almost like seeing the version of Joshua that all your friends talk about. The one who could be kind and thoughtful. Funny and supportive. All the sides you’re very convinced are reserved for anyone but you. It makes your head spin in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol in your system. It fills you with questions, too. Why did he kiss you like that? It’s the kind of first kiss everyone wants. One that’s full of promises and meaning. One that sets the tone for everything going forward.

It’s going to spiral you back into annoyance again if you’re not careful. It’s all just a game to him, right? Just another way to mess with you and get you to think about wanting him. Another way to show that he’s somehow in control of this whole dynamic. That’s a win you can’t give him. So, you dial yourself back into the present and into the game. Make sure to act like everything is fine. And it is. You’re definitely not thinking about the things Joshua whispered in your ear now that you know exactly what his lips feel like on yours.

The next morning comes brighter than you’re expecting. Then, you realize it’s not that early after all. A side effect of staying up into the early hours of the morning having the best night with your friends. Your head feels a little fuzzy from drinking. Could be a lot worse. Thankfully, you drank a ton of water and took a couple painkillers to hedge your bets, so you wake up without a hangover. Sometimes, past-you really does look out for future-you.

In the other bed, Joshua shifts. You freeze, not entirely ready to deal with him before even wiping the sleep from your eyes. Instead, he just rolls over and his breathing stays even. It’s that steady rhythm of someone sleeping soundly. He looks younger, somehow, while he’s sleeping. Or maybe it’s just that he’s completely relaxed. No time for scheming or terrorizing you. There’s an innocence that almost makes you forget the war between you and him. Almost.

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you decide to see if anyone else in the house is awake. The whole house is quiet, though. Not surprising. You always seem to be the first one awake after a night drinking and this is supposed to be a vacation. There’s no point in waking anyone up when you don’t have plans until later. So, you decide to grab your book, an oversized hoodie that you stole from one of your friends, and one of the blankets from the living room before heading outside. There’s a chill in the air, though not it’s not as bad as the previous day. There’s also heating units on the patio that you can turn on before settling down.

It’s the perfect cozy morning. The heaters and the blanket keep you just warm enough without it being uncomfortable. The world around you is calm, peaceful in a way it never could be in a city. A breeze gently rustles through the trees. Birds call out to each other. There aren’t any of those sounds that people contribute. You get lost in the fictional world and the vivid imagery, completely unaware of anything going on around you.

At least until a voice interrupts your thoughts. A voice that’s quickly becoming too recognizable.

“I brought you coffee,” he says and holds out a steaming mug.

Without consciously making the decision, you move your legs on the couch, allowing him to sit down on the other end. He has his own mug that he blows gently across before taking a sip. Your eyes study his profile for a moment before taking a sip of your own.

“Thank you,” you say without the normal bite.

“I made it the same as yesterday, hope that’s okay,” he says. He’s still facing forward and you can’t really place why. Or why it bothers you that he’s not looking over at you when you’re not even friends.

You sigh. “You make incredible coffee. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

The side of his mouth that you can see quirks into a smile. Probably a smug one, knowing him. Then he does actually turn to face you and, of course, his eyes sparkle. “Still nice to hear.”

“Yes, Joshua, you are the coffee god,” you say with heavy sarcasm.

You set the coffee down on the table long enough so that you can mark the place in your book with the receipt you’re using as a bookmark and set it aside. Somehow, this seems to interest him, even though it seems like the most mundane thing. Instead of trying to figure out what’s going on in his head, you just pick your coffee back up and resume drinking in peace. A peace that only lasts a moment.

“You can tell a lot about someone by how they handle their books,” he says.

That gets your attention even though you know it’s meant to bait you into a conversation. “Is that so?”

“Probably not,” he says with a light laugh. “But, I like that you don’t dog-ear your pages…”

“A crime.”

“And I use receipts as bookmarks, too. Sometimes, from when I buy the books if they don’t just email it to me or otherwise, just one I have lying around. I can’t ever seem to remember an actual bookmark, but who doesn’t have receipts lying around?”

“That’s true,” you concede. Joshua takes another sip of his coffee and shivers a little, even though he’s also got a sweatshirt one. One of Jeonghan’s, you think, because you know you’ve seen him in it. “Here.”

“What?” he asks and turns to you. You’re pushing the edge of the blanket towards him with your foot. It’s plenty big enough to share.

“You brought me coffee. I’m not going to let you shiver,” you say and he smiles at you. One of the real ones that you’re not used to.

“Thanks,” he says and pulls it toward his lap.

“I’m surprised you’re not inside making everyone else coffee, too.”

“Nobody else is awake yet. Or, I didn’t see anyone. I thought I heard voices, could’ve been a TV in one of the rooms. But it seemed so peaceful out here and I figured…”

“You’d come bug me?”

The look he gives you is a little exasperated. Something new on his face. Joshua reaches into the pouch of his sweatshirt and pulls out a book. It’s a title and an author you don’t recognize. You wonder what you might be able to learn from his reading habits.

“I thought I might read, too,” he says instead and glances at your book. “You know, not what I pictured you reading.”

Several responses war in your head, all wanting to come out. You look over at the book to buy yourself a minute to see which answer wins out. “I like fantasy. It’s nice to escape into a world that isn’t real.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says, seemingly pleased that you’re not being snarky.

“So, why not this, then?” you ask. It hits you that maybe he pays more attention to you than you realize. Maybe that’s why he’s so good at getting under your skin. A thought occurs to you. “If you say you think I’d prefer sparkly vampires, I will end you.”

That makes him laugh, loud and clear. Like he’s not concerned about coming off a certain way. It’s a nice sound, you think. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking more fantasy mixed with some kind of dystopia. Not something set in the Middle East.”

“I do like that, too,” you admit grudgingly. “Have you read this one? It was out on a fantasy table at the bookstore and it just sounded interesting.”

“Not yet, maybe you’ll let me borrow it,” he says with that smirk that reminds you just what a pain he can be.

“We’re definitely not at book sharing,” you deadpan, falling right into the trap without realizing.

“So we can swap spit but you won’t share a book with me?”

“Ew.”

“I know the kiss wasn’t so bad that you’re saying ew about it.”

You pull your legs closer into yourself and wrap your hands more tightly around the mug for both warmth and comfort. Regard him for a moment and decide how you want to go forward. There’s something about the setting that makes it feel like the two of you are in your own little bubble. Like you can say things you wouldn’t with your other friends around. Even though you know that you can see the patio from inside, it feels more private. Less on display than you and Joshua were the night before during the game. Somewhere along the chat, Joshua has also turned to face you and crossed his legs in front of him.

“I don’t understand you,” you admit after a moment.

“I didn’t think I was complicated,” he says.

“You hate me…”

“I’ve already told you I don’t.”

“But you picked me to make blush even though there were better options and then kissed me without hesitation.” Joshua opens his mouth, a smart retort on his lips, you’re sure. So you’re quick to cut him off. “And don’t say it was just a dare. I didn’t kiss Mingyu that way and I got to pick whoever I wanted.”

That makes him snap his mouth shut briefly. He takes a slow sip of coffee, seemingly to buy himself a moment to reconsider what to say. It’s hell on you, though, because seeing his lips on the mug reminds you of the way his lips felt against yours last night.

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats to start. “I was maybe a little envious, at the beginning, of your relationship with Jeonghan and the rest of that friend group. I’ve always made friends easily, but this felt different. I know we all joke about it, but Jeonghan and I must have been friends in another life. And I saw how everyone also loved you and joked around with you, but you weren’t like that with me. So it felt a little like I was still on the outside of this group I loved.”

“Who all love you, too, for the record,” you say with a sigh.

“You don’t, though,” he presses.

“Because you terrorize me!” you say without any real heat.

“So does Jeonghan,” he points out.

“He gets best friend privileges,” you say. “And he doesn’t fuck with me like you do.”

“I watched him eat your ice cream out of the freezer and try to convince you that it wasn’t ever yours. And that he had no idea what happened to yours,” he deadpans and you immediately close your mouth, forgetting what you wanted to say.

“I…okay, yeah, he does fuck with me,” you concede.

“I figured if you already didn’t like me, I might as well have a little fun,” he says with a shrug. You can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though.

“And irritating me, then pretending you haven’t done anything is fun to you?”

“Yeah, actually.”

You huff out in annoyance. “At least you admit that I’m not crazy.”

“Now, that’s not all my doing.”

You’re about to snap back at him when you catch sight of the look on his face. He’s just needling you again. Like he has been since moving in with your best friend. So, you switch tactics, hoping to catch him off guard. “Still doesn’t explain the dares last night.”

Joshua gives you a look that’s almost a little sympathetic. Like there’s something right in front of you that you can’t really figure out. It instantly makes you want to wipe it off him. “Like I said, I like to annoy you. You’re even hotter when you’re annoyed.”

“Excuse…” you start.

The door opens behind you and Jennie pokes her head out. “Brunch is ready, lovebirds.”

“We’re not…” you try to start again.

Joshua is too quick, though. Giving you that obnoxious smirk and slowly moving the blanket off his lap. “Thanks for sharing your blanket with me, sweetheart.”

With that, he’s up and heading inside before your brain can even catch up. God, he’s so fucking infuriating that it’s going to make you crazy. But, as you’re gathering your things to head inside for brunch, and ignoring Jennie’s pointed look, you consider that maybe you did just get to know a lot more about Joshua than you realized.

After brunch, everyone gets ready to head out to the action park. This had been a Soonyoung and Jun suggestion, but everyone seems pretty interested. Since they’re the only ones who have been to one before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect just from the website. In person, it’s actually really cool. They have go karts, bumper cars, indoor mini golf, rock climbing and ropes courses, small ziplines, laser tag, and even more things that you can’t really put a name to. There’s definitely something for everyone and it lets you split off to go do whatever seems the most interesting.

You’re barely in the door before Soonyoung and Jun are running off giggling. Jeonghan peels off to go karts. He’s not a great driver, but he’s as competitive as they come and it’s definitely something he can try to win at. A little surprising, especially with mini golf being right there, but whatever floats his boat. You try to drag Mingyu along with you to the zip line, figuring it’s not that high and maybe it’ll help him work on his fear of heights. You’re a little surprised that you get him to agree eventually. More surprised still that he actually seems to enjoy it. From the top of the zipline, you see that Jun and Soonyoung are playing some teenagers in laser tag, giggling in a way that has you concerned for the teenagers. Those two are devious with games like that.

It’s the perfect kind of relaxing afternoon that’s also engaging. You try out as many things as you can and just get lost in the fun of it all. Don’t really think about Joshua or your earlier conversation. Definitely don’t feel any kind of way when the person securing his harness lingers a little longer than necessary, seemingly flirting with him. It’s too far away to tell if he’s flirting back. Not that you should care, either way. The distraction lets Jeonghan ram into the side of your bumper car and forces you back into your mission of chasing after your best friend.

Several hours later, your whole group is ready to leave. It’s been a lot of fun, but nobody wants to get completely worn out. Especially when you have dinner reservations at a nice restaurant and then plans for an escape room after that. So, you pile back into your cars and head back to the house to get ready again. Joshua lets you have the bathroom to get ready because you want to take a quick shower without washing your hair. He’s not going out of his way to fuck with you and it’s a bit disarming. Still, it’s better than before, right?

Dinner is even better than expected, but you’re careful not to praise it too much. Can’t have Mingyu pouting over thinking the professional chef does a better job than him (even though it is literally the chef’s job). Nobody drinks too much, either. Except it’s not because you drank the night before. No. Jeonghan, like the true chaos demon that he is, tells you at dinner that it’s actually two escape rooms because it’s too easy with 10 people and you’ll be splitting into two groups. So, it’s kind of like a competition to see who finishes first. That sharpens everyone’s attention. Well, after Soonyoung makes a joke about finishing first, of course. You can tell that people are looking around and wondering who the best teammates are going to be or how you’re going to split up.

Somehow, your friends let you and Jeonghan be on the same team, which feels like an unfair advantage when the two of you do these a lot. It’s been a tradition of yours for years, even now when they’re not as popular anymore. It’s a little surprising that Joshua doesn’t press about also being paired up with you. It seems like the perfect chance to give you a hard time and you know he wants to win. He just heads to the other group without a word, though. It hits you while you’re getting ready to start your room that he also left you alone during the entirety of dinner. Weird. But, then the timer starts and nothing else matters.

Soonyoung whines the whole way back to the house about how unfair it was to have to go against you and Jeonghan. It’s good natured, though. He admits that he still had fun even if his team only made it out with a few minutes to spare. Your team had over 10 minutes to spare, by comparison, so it hadn’t exactly been a close fight. The bickering picks back up again when you get out of your cars and Soonyoung can argue with Jeonghan again. It’s incredibly endearing to watch them that way. Fills your heart with warmth. This really is the perfect weekend away with friends.

“Oh, I brought my karaoke machine!” Soonyoung says as everyone is dispersing into the house.

“Soonyoung…” you start, exasperated.

“I’m in!” Jun squeals and Soonyoung is off to retrieve it without another comment.

“I’ll start mixing up some drinks,” Sana says with an affectionate sigh.

“I’ll help,” Jennie agrees.

Even though nobody else shows any enthusiasm, you all get sucked into the mess with the promise of drinks. Soonyoung actually doesn’t have a bad voice at all when he’s not trying to be as ridiculous as possible. It’s nice, though, because this isn’t the kind of thing you can’t do at home when you share walls with other people. Or not the kind of thing you should do. Soonyoung, in particular, does not need any more noise complaints.

Jeonghan takes the seat next to you and it’s comforting to have him there, even if it’s not exactly a quiet moment. The two of you go over some of the more difficult clues from the escape room and wonder if you could have gotten through the other room just as fast. Figure you probably could because the difficulty levels were the same. The two of you are nothing if not confident in your abilities. Somewhere during the conversation, Joshua plops down on Jeonghan’s other side and shares what it had been like in their room. More chaotic than yours, by the sounds of it.

“Hey, I didn’t ask,” Jeonghan says suddenly, turning to Joshua. “I saw you were getting some extra attention from that worker putting your harness on for the rock climbing wall.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Joshua says dismissively.

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” Jeonghan presses, ever the pest.

Joshua gives him a look that seems to convey a silent conversation. It’s strange to see when you’re so used to doing that with Jeonghan yourself. “She was just asking about our plans and if we needed any suggestions or wanted a guide to anything.”

“So, she was hitting on you,” Jeonghan concludes, smug for a reason you don’t understand.

“Maybe,” Joshua says with a shrug. “I told her it was a friends trip and that we were set.”

“Not interested?” Jeonghan presses.

“No,” Joshua says without explaining.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jeonghan says like he knows a secret. You recognize the tone well. What you don’t recognize is what the secret is.

“I’m gonna go get a refill,” Joshua says and stands up abruptly.

“What was that?” you ask, watching Joshua as he retreats into the kitchen.

Jeonghan only shrugs like he doesn’t know what’s going on. You might believe it on anyone else, but you know better with him. “I think I’m going to go see if Soonyoung wants to do a duet.”

With that nonanswer, Jeonghan also stands and heads over to see what Soonyoung has for song options in the app he’s using to connect to the machine. Something about the whole interaction feels off. And though you still don’t know if you even like Joshua, you get up to follow him into the empty kitchen. At least, you’re going to continue telling yourself you’re not sure if you like him.

“Are you okay?” you ask and he turns at your voice.

“Fine, why?” he asks. It’s not how he normally interacts with you.

“I don’t know, you just seem off,” you say. “Jeonghan can be a shit sometimes, but…”

“But, you’ll give him a pass and not me,” Joshua finishes and it pulls you up short. “Sorry, I…”

“No, you’re right,” you agree and that does surprise him.

“Are you okay?” he asks and starts to slip back into his more normal self. “Admitting, I’m right? I should check your temperature. Or should I call my family? Is the world ending?”

“You’re impossible,” you grumble. You turn away from him to refill your own drink.

You can feel his presence rather than hear it over the sounds from the living room. Know he moves to stand right behind you. “And you missed me messing with you today, admit it.”

His voice is low again and entirely too close to your ear. You hate the way you have to fight your reaction to him. Hate the way he flips a switch and sends you spiraling like this. You can’t admit that it felt weird to not have him messing with you. Won’t admit that you fell right into his trap with him being short. It even occurs to you that Jeonghan might have helped set the whole thing up. After all, who knows you better than your best friend?

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you say.

“If you ask me to stop messing with you, then I will,” he says, still standing just behind you with his mouth near your ear. “If you tell me that you genuinely can’t stand it after last night and after we talked this morning, then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

“And if I don’t ask you to stop?” you ask, so quietly that you’re not sure he’ll hear you over the din. He does, though. His soft chuckle is confirmation of that before he steps away.

“Then, I’ll be very happy to keep seeing more sides of you,” he says.

By the time you actually turn around, he’s retreating back into the living room. You almost could convince yourself that you imagined the whole thing. Then, he looks over his shoulder and winks at you. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s also confusing. This weird dynamic between you has definitely shifted and you realize it’s up to you to set the new boundaries. But, if it’s up to you to set the boundaries, then why does it feel like he’s still pulling all the strings?

You’re kind of in a daze while you try to process what’s actually going on. Outwardly, you keep sipping on your drinks and laugh along when Soonyoung does something particularly ridiculous in the name of karaoke. It seems, to most of your friends, at least, that you’re fully present. You refuse Jeonghan’s request to sing with him, like you always do. It’s just for fun, but he’s actually got an angelic singing voice when he wants to put effort in and you’re more of a sing in the shower type. It’s just friends, sure. You’re still not going to sing.

Inwardly, you’re in a constant battle. Going over all your interactions with Joshua and trying to figure out exactly what’s going on. It seems insane that he could flirt with you when he’s such a menace. Yet, your brain can’t really consider it anything else. Maybe you can write off last night as part of the game. Today, though, seeing more honesty out of him hadn’t been part of a game. And in the kitchen definitely wasn’t part of a game. You can also understand what he meant this morning. The rational part of your brain knows that it’s entirely fair to think he could mess around with you like the rest of your friends do. It’s even easy to see slipping into that despite not being close yet because he felt so immediately close to everyone else in the friend group. If you cut him some slack with that, then you can even start to see why your friends all like him as much as they do. He’s easygoing and also mischievous. Just the right combination for the friend group.

And, okay, maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you can also admit that he’s insanely attractive. The sharpness of his jaw contrasts the soft way his hair frames his face. He laughs along with something Seungcheol says and it’s an oddly comforting sound. Makes his whole face light up. You catch yourself glancing over at him entirely too much only to find him looking back at you most times. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem that many of your other friends notice. Really, just Jeonghan, if the look he gives you means anything.

There’s a thin between hate and love. At least that’s what you hear. Maybe you never actually hated Joshua and you certainly don’t love him now. But, you have to admit, if only to yourself, that you’re curious about him. More curious than you want to be. And it’s driving you more than a little crazy. The worst part is that he doesn’t even seem affected. Sure, he throws a lot of glances in your direction and teases you along with your friends. But, it’s just…normal behavior. Nothing that suggests that he’s having an internal argument the way you are.

Eventually, when it’s into the early hours of the morning again, the group starts to wind down. Soonyoung has long since abandoned his singing career in favor of queueing endless videos on YouTube on the TV. Jun is playfully arguing with Jennie about something nobody else seems to understand. Sana is drifting off where she sits, prompting Mingyu to gently wake her up and help her off to her bedroom. It’s the perfect chance for you to announce to the room at-large that you’re going to bed. You miss the look that passes between Jeonghan and Joshua at your announcement.

You get as far as a quick facial cleanse to remove any makeup before you hear the door to the bedroom open and close. It makes you poke your head through the door, though you know it could only be one person.

“You dipped pretty quickly without actually saying goodnight,” he says and you pull your head back into the bathroom so that you can dry it off.

“And that’s an issue?” you ask when you step out into the bedroom.

“An observation,” he corrects.

“It seemed like the night was winding down, so I figured that I might as well turn in,” you say.

“Is that all?” he asks and takes a few steps towards you.

“What else would it be?” you ask, drifting a little closer yourself without even realizing.

“I don’t know,” he says, but the look he gives you says otherwise. It feels like he pierces right through you with it.

“Venture a guess,” you suggest, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You might have been signalling me to follow you,” he suggests and you hate the way your stomach does a little flip.

You hide it behind a scoff and turn your head. “We’re sharing a room, Joshua. It’s not like you wouldn’t end up here eventually.”

“Have you thought about what I said in the kitchen?” he asks, changing his approach.

You lick your lips to buy yourself a minute. Don’t miss the way his eyes flick down to watch the movement of your tongue. There are a million different thoughts fighting to the front of your brain. There’s only one way to really know, though. You close the space between you and he doesn’t make a move.

“I need to see something,” you say quietly into the space between you.

“Okay,” he agrees without even knowing what you’re asking.

There’s no time to second guess yourself or you might lose your nerve. With your hands on his face, you pull him down to your lips and kiss him. For real, this time. Without an audience or a game or anything else. His body is tense for a second before he winds his own arms around your lower back to pull you against him. He’s confident and calm, letting you find the answer to whatever question you’re asking. You’re not even sure who deepens the kiss as your tongue tangles with his. You arch your back, pressing tighter against his chest and he lets his body follow yours. Let your hands slide from his face so your arms are around his neck. His hands slide down to land on your ass. The lightest squeeze makes you moan softly into his mouth.

It’s him that breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he catches his breath. Doesn’t move his hands from your body, though. The chemistry with him is electric, like nothing you can remember experiencing before. With a kiss like that, it’s going to be very hard to act like your body doesn’t want him.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asks, still breathing a little harder than normal.

Of course he’s concerned about that because he really is just as nice as all of your friends say. “Enough that my guard is down. Not so much that it stops me from knowing what I want.”

“And what do you want,” he asks. The low tone of his voice is going to drive you insane, actually.

“You,” you say simply.

“Don’t toy with me,” he warns you.

That makes you pull away so that you can look at him. “I’m not. I don’t have any answers for you, I just know I can’t ignore whatever this is that’s drawing me to you.”

“Then don’t,” he says and pulls you back into him.

The kiss is demanding. The kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. Even more consuming than the first kiss where you just wanted to see what would happen. You have no idea what any of this is going to mean and you’re not even sure you care. It’s a problem for later when your head isn’t clouded with nothing but thoughts of his man that drives you insane. A conversation to have in the light of day, maybe.

His hands are everywhere on you and you’re not sure how you haven’t appreciated them more before this moment. They squeeze at your ass in a way that makes you press into him. They run up your sides and make you shudder. Tease across your breasts even though you’re fully clothed. It shouldn’t turn you on so easily. Shouldn’t have you making so many soft moans that he catches. It’s better than you could have imagined from the way he whispered in your ear the night before. And he hasn’t even moved on to kissing down your body. Not yet, at least. Without warning, he breaks the kiss again and you’re a little embarrassed at the way you follow his lips. Joshua doesn’t say a word as he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a couple of towels. Rolls them up and presses them against the crack in the door. Thankfully, your room is separate from the others. Still, you don’t want any of your friends hearing whatever is about to happen. At least this should muffle it a bit.

“Are you still sure?” he asks when he finishes with the towels.

“Yes,” you say.

“Because if we keep going, I don’t think I can stop. Not now that I’m getting a taste of you,” he says and you shudder.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say.

Any hesitation disappears when you utter that simple sentence. He turns you around so that your back is to his chest and brushes your hair to the side. This time, he’s not just whispering in your ear. He's running his tongue along the shell of it. Kissing behind your ear while his hands grip your hips. You wiggle your ass against him experimentally and appreciate the way he moans into the kiss. He continues on to the pulse point of your neck, sucking in just enough so that it won’t leave a mark. The way he takes his time is going to be your undoing. When he starts pressing you forward to one of the beds, you don’t even fight him.

Before you can collapse onto the bed, he turns you around again and kisses you hard on the lips. Lets himself get lost in you again. Uses one of his hands to hook your leg up around his hip and deepens the kiss even further. You cling to him for balance and trust that he won’t let anything happen to you. It’s insane the way everything can change in a moment. The way your entire view of him changes when you stop fighting over nothing. Then he grinds into you and your thoughts go blank. He’s not even hard yet and you can only imagine what he’s going to feel like when he is. It’s too much. Enough to make you pull away so that you can start stripping out of your clothing. Joshua watches you for a moment, pupils totally blown, before doing the same.

Your breath catches at the sight of him. You already know he’s beautiful, but this is something else. He’s all lean lines without it being too much muscle. Deceptively in shape for someone that never shows off his body. You would have had no idea, especially with the way your other friends show off their own bodies. It makes you self conscious for a second until you see the look in his eyes. The way he drinks in every inch of you like he can’t believe this is happening. Like he’s the lucky one in this situation. And he’s the one to close the space between you. To reach out and put his hands on your bare skin, resting them on your waist to pull you closer. When he kisses you again, it’s strangely soft, at complete odds with being naked against him. When his kisses trail down your neck, you have to try to stifle a moan. Remind yourself that you’re still in a house full of your friends.

Joshua backs you up against one of the beds as he kisses down your body. He stops every time he finds a spot on your body that’s a little more sensitive. Gives you a little more attention there. You swear it feels like he’s smiling against your skin when he pulls noises out of you. That smile that’s so familiar to you that you don’t seem to mind so much anymore. Not now when his lips feel so good on you. Gently, he presses you back so that you collapse onto the bed. You’re about to move back when he catches you. Leans over you to kiss you breathless again. But, he’s pulling away too soon and crouching down so he’s between your legs. It pulls you up short because surely he’s not…

“Can I taste you?” he asks, low and a little desperate. He pushes your knees open gently, experimentally.

“You don’t have…” you start and he chuckles. It’s insane that he can pin you in place with a look.

“I know that I don’t have to, but I really fucking want to,” he says.

“Okay, but this angle…” you start again, feeling a little too exposed.

“Is perfect,” he finishes without hesitation. “You’re stunning and all I need for you to do is say yes. Let me show you just how well my mouth works.”

“Fuck,” you whisper out, losing any remaining nerves or self consciousness. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” he whispers like a prayer.

You expect him to dive right between your legs. Of course he doesn’t, though. He kisses up the inside of one thigh. Lets his breath ghost across your wet core as he moves to kiss down the inside of your other thigh. You cannot let this man get you begging. Not so soon. Not like this. But, you don’t have to. The look he gives you before putting his mouth where you need it the most is sinful. Full of lust and desire and designed to ruin you. Not that he needs to know that. Gently, he places a kiss against your center. Looks up at you from under his lashes and you’re struggling. Thankfully, he doesn’t keep you waiting. He licks a stripe up your center. Must feel how wet he’s already gotten you. It seems to be driving him crazy, too. He licks deep into you, eating your pussy like a man starved. A loud moan escapes you before you clamp a hand over your mouth and knit your other hand in the sheets. Joshua adjusts so that your legs are over his shoulders and he can tilt you back. His tongue hits you at a new angle and you think you might lose it. He pulls back just for a moment to flick his tongue across your clit and suck it into his mouth. The look he gives you says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that he’s going to push you over the edge entirely too soon.

It’s the best you can ever remember feeling with a man between your legs like this. He definitely knows what he’s doing. And you’re in such a haze that you can’t hold back. Can’t stop the praise that falls quietly from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from telling him just how pretty he looks. How much you love the sight of him there. How good his mouth feels. All of it seems to spur him on more. When his mouth returns to your pussy, you really do think you’re going to be done for. You can’t believe that it feels this good without him even using his fingers. But, that coil forms low in your tummy and you know it’s only going to be a minute.

And then he does the worst thing imaginable. Pulls his mouth from you just as you’re about to cum. The look you give him is pure betrayal. For a horrible moment, you wonder if this has all been some kind of trap. Until he smirks at you and rises to lean over you again. Joshua puts one large hand behind your head and kisses you hard. Desperate. You can taste yourself on his lips and his tongue. Can feel how turned on he is by the way his dick hits your skin and he groans into your mouth. It’s kind of satisfying to know that you have him this worked up just from eating you out.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper against his lips between kisses.

He groans. “I don’t think I have a condom.”

You pull back and look at him. “I’m covered and I’m clean. So as long as you are, too…”

It’s kind of cute to watch the way he blinks, clearly trying to make sure he heard you right. “I’m not sure…”

“You don’t want to?” you ask and he must see something in your expression because he softens.

“Believe me when I say I want you more than fucking anything in the world,” he says. It doesn’t escape you that he says he wants you. Not that he wants to like you said.

“It’s okay. If you say that I can trust you, then I will,” you assure him. He’s so unguarded that it actually makes your heart skip a beat.

“You can trust me,” he says softly.

There’s entirely too much emotion for you to process behind those four words. So, you pull him back into you to kiss him. Hope he feels what you’re not going to say. Not now. He seems to understand, though, because he kisses you back just as fiercely. Using his free hand, he lines himself up at your entrance. His tip teases your folds and you moan. It would be entirely too loud if Joshua hadn’t caught it in the kiss. Maybe he does know what he’s doing. He’s definitely the one protecting both of you from being overheard by your friends. Friends that you’re not even sure had gone to their rooms before this all started. You quickly cast that thought from your head.

Joshua presses in and out of you slowly. Takes his time because he doesn’t have a condom (or any lube) to make the slide easier. The pace drives you crazy, though; You hook your legs around his hips and he braces himself with one hand on the bed. The other grips your hip to anchor you. You run your hands all over him as he continues to gently ease into you. Note the way he gasps into your mouth when you tangle a hand in his hair. Smile against his lips at the way he reacts to your nails on his scalp. Think it may be the death of you when you run your nails down his back and his hips stutter. You do it again and he nearly growls. Actually breaks the kiss to look at you.

You’re just about to ask if it’s too much when you register the look on his face. His voice is low, warning. “You’re going to be the death of me if you keep that up and I’m not even inside you.”

“Then maybe you should hurry up,” you say back, almost challenging.

This is a game you can’t win. Not when he looks like that. Joshua moves his hand from the bed to your hip so he’s only gripping you. You get one look at his face and know you’re fucked before he snaps his hips, bottoming out in you. Lets you moan for a split second before he catches your lips again.

“What was that?” he asks against your lips.

You’re totally fucked. Absolutely done. The way he fills you feels perfect. It’s just the right stretch and you know he’s going to hit exactly where you need him to. Your brain goes totally blank. You forget that this is the same man who’s been a demon. Forget that you’re not going to beg him for anything. It all goes out the window.

“Please, I need you to move,” you say and try to wriggle against him.

He chuckles a little. Presses feather light kisses to each side of your mouth and then along your jaw without moving inside you. Moves one of his hands from your hip to gently brush hair off your face. Then, he’s smiling that confident smile. “Well, since you said please…”

With his hand on the bed next to you again, he starts actually thrusting into you. You tighten your legs around him so they’re not dangling off the bed. You let your hands roam his body, exploring every inch of him. Try to map what he reacts the most to through the haze of the tension that’s building up within you again. Joshua alternates between kissing you and whispering praise into your skin. He’s so free with it. There’s nothing cocky about it, either. Not now, at least. His pace is steady, alternating between shallow thrusts and deep ones that make you shudder. He makes a small adjustment to the angle and it takes everything in you not to scream out. You clap one hand over your mouth with the loss of his lips on yours. Your other hand knots in the sheets and you throw your head back. Joshua picks up his pace. Can tell that you’re close. He must be too because he presses a thumb into your clit. Rubs quick circles over it and that’s too much for you. The coil snaps and you’re coming hard around his dick. He keeps fucking you through it and releases just after you, somehow managing to keep his thrusts relatively even through his own orgasm.

He leans over you and kisses you again, messy and needy. You respond even though you can’t catch your breath. Drunk on the thought of him, but feeling entirely sober now despite drinking earlier in the night. Your chest rises and falls in time with his when he pulls back and just gazes at you. He’s still inside you and you’re sure it’s not comfortable to be arched over you next to the bed. But, he doesn’t seem to care. The gaze is so soft and you have to turn your head, just for a second. Joshua, instead, gently turns you back to him and brushes some of the sweaty hairs away from your forehead. Runs his hand down your body and gently helps you disentangle your legs around him. They feel a little stiff from how tightly you held on. Then, he slowly pulls himself out. Watches where you’re sure a little cum leaks free. It makes you wonder if he’s thinking he wants more like you do. Except, you know that you can’t really risk it again tonight.

“Let me go grab a towel,” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead.

All you can do is nod and flop back against the bed. Your whole body feels relaxed. Satisfied in a way that you haven’t been in a while. Unconsciously, you trail your fingers over your lips and along the parts of your body where you can still feel his touch. His presence lingers on you like a blanket. Comforting and warm. You don’t even realize you’re smiling.

“If you keep doing that with a smile, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from diving between your legs again,” he says.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Push yourself into a sitting position so that you can watch him walk back over to you. He really is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in your life. “I think we’ve probably pushed it enough for tonight.”

That makes both of you chuckle. “Probably. Though, I might not care if it meant you kept making those noises.”

Without your permission, your cheeks flush and you look away from him. This time, he lets you have the moment. Instead, he goes to work wiping the sweat clear from your body. There’s shouldn’t be that much care in the gesture, but there is. Joshua Hong is good at a lot of things, apparently, including aftercare. You watch fondly as he gently wipes between your legs to make sure nothing dries there.

“I know there’s…a lot to talk about you,” you start as Joshua steps away. He turns back to you, looking a little guarded again for the first time. It hurts your heart. “Joshua, I promise I’m not saying we’re not going to talk. I just wanted to know if we could get ready for bed and talk in the morning?”

“Oh,” he says, relaxing again. Smiles at you in a way that you’re not sure you can handle. It makes you want to tell him to be gentle with you. “Yeah, of course. It’s been a long day.”

“Thank you,” you say.

In a second, he’s back over in front of you to help you up. You roll your eyes and swat at him for a second, but do let him help you. You stretch your body out, arms over your head, and miss the way Joshua stops to watch you as you roll your neck. Then, you do catch him looking at you and he plays it off by offering you one of his baggy shirts to sleep in. Considering it for half a second, you accept and grab a pair of the boy shorts you like to sleep in. The ones you haven’t worn yet because you weren’t expecting to be sharing with him. The two of you stand together and do your nighttime skincare routines. He stands behind you, wrapping an arm gently around your stomach as he brushes his teeth. It doesn’t feel clingy like it would in another situation. Just very soft, which is going to be an issue for tomorrow-you to handle. Your heart seems to be rushing way ahead of your head.

Joshua disappears for just a moment, after checking the door, to grab waters for both of them. He returns without any issue. Neither of you says anything about it when you both get into the same bed together. It just goes unsaid as you let him pull you against him. Both of you relishing in the comfort of the other as you fall into an easy, dreamless sleep. Nope. definitely not going to be any issues here.

It takes a moment for your brain to clear the next morning. Not because you don’t remember the night before. Your brain is just in that hazy half-asleep, half-awake state when you register the arm around you. As you’re waking up, you glance over at Joshua’s face. Peaceful, again, like you noticed yesterday morning. Completely unguarded while he sleeps.

Except, he also looks entirely different to you now. Sometimes things look different in the light of day. Sometimes, a new day dawns and you wonder just why you made a decision. That’s not the case for you. Not this time. Your body warms at the thought of him. It doesn’t make you want to pull away like other times, either. Even though you know that the path forward might be complicated at first. Or it might involve a lot of teasing. None of that seems to turn you away from this man that has so many more layers than you realized.

As you’re looking over at him without really seeing him (because you’re zoning out in your thoughts), you realize his breathing changes. He’s awake now, but still looking very groggy. He pulls you into him, letting your legs tangle together, and kisses you gently. You can’t even fight the way you melt into him. The kiss is slow, languid. Not desperate like the night before. In any other situation, you hate kissing first thing in the morning. You’re not going to stop to think what that means this time.

Joshua pulls away and smiles at you. “If I keep kissing you, I’m never going to be able to get up and our friends will definitely know something’s up.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Guess you don’t hate me anymore,” he teases, running a finger along your arm and watching the goosebumps spring up.

“I don’t think I ever hated you,” you say and earn a look from him.

“You don’t think?” he questions and you break first, smiling.

“You can never be totally sure,” you say.

“Maybe we’ll have to test it again,” he says to play along.

“Guess so,” you agree easily.

“So,” he starts and moves to sit up. You mirror him and cross your legs. “You mentioned needing to talk…”

“Yeah,” you agree and take a deep breath. “I’m not really sure what’s happening here or if it was just, like, a one-time thing to get some tension out…”

“It wasn’t for me,” he says, interrupting you. Takes a steadying breath like he needs to prepare for the next bit. “Was it for you?”

It’s vulnerable, honest. You can’t ignore that he’s being brave. That he’s putting himself out there without knowing where you stand. This is the thoughtful Joshua you’ve heard so much about. The one that makes friends as easily as breathing. Just as he looks away, you gently reach out to take his hand. “No, it wasn’t for me, either.”

“Don’t do that to me,” he breathes out as the tension disappears from his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a smile and can tell he forgives you immediately. “This has caught me a little off-guard.”

“Me too,” he agrees and the considers. “Not in the same way, though, I don’t think.”

“I’m confused,” you admit.

He takes a breath like he’s bracing himself again. You’re not sure for what, though. You’ve already been honest. “I already knew I had a crush on you.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

“I’ve had a crush on you basically since moving in with Jeonghan and I’d basically given up before this trip. I didn’t think you’d ever consider me. Now it seems like maybe it wasn’t just one sided,” he says.

“Maybe not,” you concede.

“I think Jeonghan might have known. He definitely teased me about it even though I never told him. He’s too observant,” Joshua says with an eye roll.

“It’s just…” you start and frown. “I want to figure things out with you and there’s a lot of questions to answer, so I’m not sure that I’m ready to…”

“Let our friends in on it?” he asks with a soft chuckle. You nod, thankful he doesn’t seem mad about that.

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say.

“I can agree to that,” he says with a mischievous smile. “When we’re out there with our friends, I’ll keep teasing you like I always do.”

“Great,” you interrupt with an eye roll.

“But, when we’re in here,” he continues, the heat from the night before returning to his gaze, “I’m not going to act like I don’t know what you taste like. Or what you sound like when I fuck you.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” you squeak out and cover your face.

Joshua gently pulls your hands from your face. He kisses you softly. “Sorry, it’s out of my system. For now.”

You swat at him and he quickly jumps off the bed. Maybe it’s not him you need to worry about giving you away. He’s got the easier job, after all. Normal for Joshua and you, in the eyes of your friends, just means he’s teasing you. Feeding into your distaste for him. But, how do you act annoyed by him after last night?

Pretending everything is normal proves to be just as difficult as you expect. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like anyone heard you the night before. The house is big and several of your friends need to sleep with some kind of background noise on. Plus, everyone had been drinking, even if nobody (other than Soonyoung or possibly Jun) had been drunk. That’s at least one hurdle that makes your day easier. Joshua carries on acting like he always has with you and you try to give your normal responses. Try not to let on that anything has shifted between the two of you. Rationally, you know that whatever is forming between the two of you is a good thing. Know that your friends would be happy for you (after teasing you relentlessly). That’s not what holds you back. It’s that you and Joshua need the chance to figure out whatever it is by yourselves. Without having to answer questions from your friends that you can’t answer yet.

The schedule during the day is relatively busy. There’s a scenic train ride that includes an amazing brunch buffet. Some of the sights through the windows take your breath away. Everything seems quiet, untouched. You and Jennie sit together and just watch the world go by, commenting on the beauty or else catching up on life. Everything about it is relaxing and just what the group needs. Even the train ride itself is smooth, a feat you’re not sure how they accomplish. It’s easy to see why it’s such a highly rated thing to do in the area. And, since Joshua isn’t sitting right next to you, it’s not so hard to pretend like everything is normal. Well, except for one comment that he makes that causes you to blush a little and earns you a skeptical look from Jennie. She’s not as observant as Jeonghan, though, so you think you manage it fine.

After the train ride, you all walk around in town to explore the little shops. Soonyoung and Jun take off giggling and chasing each other, for no apparent reason. Just for the vibes, probably. You mostly focus on window shopping unless something catches your eye. It’s just nice to be out in the fresh air. There’s also something about the shops that make you feel like you stepped back in time, a little. It’s not a bad feeling. It just adds to the sense of calm you feel.

One shop draws you in because it’s local, handmade jewelry. That’s definitely a favorite for you because it feels unique. Special. Some of the pieces you get from big chains can feel impersonal. The handmade pieces feel like they tell a story. They feel more perfect for any of their imperfects. Sana, Jeonghan, and Joshua follow you into the store, dispersing to look at different pieces.

“What do you think of these?” a soft voice asks from your side, making you jump a little.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you ask, heart racing, as you turn to Joshua.

“It’s fun to see you jump,” he says with a shrug. That glint is back in his eyes.

“I’m not sure that’s your color,” Jeonghan chimes in, nodding at the necklace. Where did he come from?

“Maybe it’s not for me,” he says with an easy shrug, looking at the necklace again.

“Ooooh,” Jeonghan teases. He turns to you. “Lucky person, don’t you think?”

You level Jeonghan with a glare, surprising yourself how easy it is, at least for that moment, to pretend. “I’m not sure about lucky since it’s Joshua. He does have good taste, though.”

“That’s probably as close to a compliment as you’ll get from her,” Jeonghan says and elbows his roommate.

“Nobody can resist me forever,” he says and throws you a wink that has Jeonghan laughing as they head in another direction.

Once again, you really want to ask him to be gentle with you. How are you meant to act like everything is fine? How come he’s trying to make this even harder on you? Then, you remember him asking your opinion on the necklace and realize he’s struggling, too. It makes you feel lighter knowing that he wants to buy you something from this store that drew you in all while you haven’t even figured out what’s happening. He did say that you could trust him. And you want to. A scary thought, to be sure.

The next stop on the agenda is a late afternoon murder mystery show. There’s audience participation and it’s something several of your friends have been talking about all weekend. The audience participation part may not be the most appealing to you, but it does sound interesting. At least, until Joshua makes sure to sit right next to you during the show. And lets the actors comment on what a cute couple you make without correcting them. He actively encourages them, instead, and it makes your friends howl with laughter. It’s painfully on brand for how he interacts with you, but it makes your brain short circuit a bit. Makes you stumble over a response before you gather your composure again. It’s par for the course for Joshua, but definitely not for you. You carefully avoid the questioning look from Jeonghan. You don’t trust yourself in the moment. If anyone could read you and figure it all out, it’s definitely Jeonghan. When things settle down, you do glare over at Joshua, though.

By the time you make it back to the house, having decided to get a bunch of take out and make your own feast, you’re just happy the day is over. Spending time with your friends is great. Pretending you didn’t fuck Joshua the night before, not so much. Despite agreeing not to tell your friends yet, he’s making it as hard as possible. Each time he needles you a little, it’s like he’s trying to figure out more about you. Trying to figure out your reactions to file them away for some later use. At this rate, Jeonghan, as your best friend and Joshua’s roommate, is going to figure it out. Especially if he’s already figured out Joshua had a crush. Yet, Joshua doesn’t seem concerned. Well, two can play at that game.

Mingyu and Jun head into the kitchen to set up the spread of food, even though there’s no cooking involved. You, along with several other friends, excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes to hang out in. When you return in yoga pants and a slightly cropped sweatshirt, you revel in the way Joshua does a double take. Feel immense satisfaction at the way he drinks you in before looking away. He disappears, probably to change and buy himself a minute, and you smile to yourself. By the time he returns, you already have a plate and he doesn’t take the open seat next to you. His eyes bore into you, though, and you know that he knows it’s your way to push back at him a little.

After you all finish eating, you notice Joshua in the kitchen and get up under the pretense of needing something to drink. He hears you coming and looks around to see that all the rest of your friends are still in the living room area and talking.

“What happened to pretending nothing happened?” he asks softly. “I could ask you the same.”

“I’m only teasing you like normal.”

“And I’m only putting on comfortable clothing, same as anyone else.”

The look he gives you says he doesn’t believe a word of that. “You’re gonna give me a semi in that outfit with the way you keep moving around. God, I sound so pathetic.”

“No, you don’t,” you say, but your eyes sparkle. “Guess I shouldn’t say that I’m not wearing a bra or any underwear.”

“You…what?” Joshua gapes at you.

Instead of answering, you just grab your drink and head back to join your friends. You don’t have to turn around to know that his eyes are on you. The point definitely goes to you for this round. And maybe it sends at least a little message because Joshua tones it down a little the rest of the night.

Compared to the other nights, this one is pretty tame. You all know that you have to head back home the next day, even if you don’t have to get an early start. Some people have a drink or two, but it’s just casual. You agree on something to watch and all settle in. Soonyoung struggles with sitting still for that long, and Mingyu pouts that nobody will cuddle with him in the oversized chair. He can’t understand why you don’t give in when he can convince you any other time. But, otherwise it’s just nice. Easy. The perfect kind of ending to a wonderful weekend away with friends.

Slowly, people start excusing themselves to go to their rooms and nerves hit you again. You’re going to be alone with Joshua and you’re not really sure what to expect. Don’t even want to make eye contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep it together. So, you just stretch your arms out and say goodnight to the room. Figure you can leave it to Joshua to decide when he follows you to the room.

It takes longer than you expect. Longer than it did the night before, by far. You turn some music on, just loud enough that it may cover anything that happens. But, it’s at least twenty minutes before the door opens. Long enough that you consider just going to sleep. Long enough to think that maybe the moment in the kitchen had been a step too far.

You rise off your bed when he closes the door behind him and take a few steps over to him, preparing to say something. He doesn’t give you the chance. He closes the space between you and catches your lips in the most bruising kiss yet. Groans when you gasp into his mouth. He backs you into the wall and presses himself hard against you. There’s no space for you to move. He presses your legs apart so that he can slide one of his own legs between them. One hand rests behind your head, cradling it so you don’t hit the wall. The other hand runs up your side and under your sweatshirt. Rough and a little possessive. A very different side to him and it’s turning you on more than it should be.

Joshua pulls away from you just enough so he can run his hand across your breast, confirming what you said about not having a bra on. He groans again, jerks his hips against yours almost involuntarily. He breaks the kiss and you gasp for air.

“I can’t believe you really came out without a bra just to tease me,” he whines out. A little desperation slipping into his voice.

“I can’t believe you waited so long to come to our room that I considering going to sleep,” you retort, a little bratty now that you realize he’s not mad.

“I couldn’t come right away because it would have been obvious,” he explains. “Then, I started to think about you not wearing a bra or underwear. And the way I would have you clenching that pretty pussy around my dick again and it took a second to calm down.”

“Who says I’m gonna let you fuck me again?” you challenge.

“Don’t play with me,” he whines, some of the confidence disappearing.

“I won’t,” you say, suddenly serious.

You kiss him again to say the things you’re not sure how to. He gets the message, though. Your lips chase his when he pulls away entirely too quickly. But, he ducks his head and pushes your sweatshirt up without taking it off completely. Runs his tongue over your nipple and drags it between his teeth. It makes you arch into his mouth. It’s kind of hot, actually, the way he can’t wait to have his mouth on you. He switches to your other breast and is sure to give your body all of his attention. In response, you drag your core along his thigh that’s between your leg. Searching for any kind of friction.

In any other situation, you might be embarrassed by how quickly your body reacts. Joshua erases that, though. You’re not even sure how. Despite all the time you’ve both spent terrorizing the other, it’s insanely easy to trust him. Easy to feel confident when he reacts to you just as strongly. Easy to just let things happen when he’s so willing to be desperate for you. No games, no bullshit, just making sure you’re both feeling good.

The friction just isn’t enough anymore and you need more. Don’t want to keep riding his thigh while he laves over your breasts. You pull his face up to kiss him again and let your sweatshirt fall. His pupils are blown and somehow the confused look he gives you is cute. You’re not sure how he does it. A thought for another time, anyway. You pull him over to that reading nook you were so excited about and haven’t used. Push your yoga pants down your legs and kick them aside. Bend over and look over your shoulder at him. The lust is clear on his face.

“I just need you inside me,” you say and watch his eyes get wider with surprise. “Please.”

“God, I love hearing that from you,” he admits. “Think I’d agree to anything if you asked me like that.”

“Simp,” you tease.

“Absolutely,” he agrees without any teasing.

You don’t have a chance to react to the honesty in the statement before he’s pushing his own sweatpants down and kicking them aside. Casts his shirt aside even though he doesn’t need to. He presses your lower back so you’re bent at the right angle and you arch your back. Impatiently, he pushes your legs a little farther apart. The next second, he’s gathering your wetness and pressing a single finger into your pussy. Trying to at least prepare you a little. In no time at all, he inserts a second finger and pumps quickly into you. You reach for one of the pillows to bury your face into it so that you can moan little more freely. Joshua bends over your back and presses kisses into your skin.

“Please,” you say again, pulling your face from the pillow. “I don’t wanna cum on your fingers.”

“Fuck,” he mutters and pulls his fingers out.

It’s a moment before you feel him again. You bury your head back into the pillow when he presses his head against your entrance. You wiggle and encourage him to press harder. Any self control he might have disappears and he snaps hard. Soon, the sounds of skin on skin mingles with the music and your muffled moans. Joshua moves your leg so one knee is on the bench and he can get a better angle to fuck you. His hands wander your body. Digging into your hips hard enough that you imagine you’ll have fingerprints there. Flicking a thumb across your nipple. Finally working down to your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts.

Entirely too quickly, your body shudders as the orgasm rips through you right as Joshua finds his own release. Your legs feel like jelly and you’re not sure if you can keep standing, even as you’re trying to come down. But Joshua, surprising you again, carefully pulls out and drags you over to one of the beds with him. You collapse, sliding further up to make room for him and pulling the sweatshirt off, finally. Except he doesn’t settle next to you. No, he settles between your legs, pressing them open.

“Joshua, what…” you start to ask, breathless still.

What becomes obvious immediately. He licks into your cunt, gathering your cum that mixes with his own. If you thought he was a man starved the night before, it’s nothing compared to tonight. He’s not taking his time with you, either. Not giving you a chance to recover. You’re so sensitive, but the way his tongue laps at you feels amazing. You knot a hand in his hair and he groans, sending a vibration through your pussy. This time, when he moves his mouth to your clit, he slides a finger inside you. Quickly adds another. You can’t believe the way your body responds to him. Can’t believe how good it feels even though you’re so incredibly sensitive. You bite down on your own fist to stop yourself from screaming out the way you want to. The end of this trip can’t come soon enough. You absolutely cannot wait to have him in your own space where you don’t have to worry about friends overhearing.

The second orgasm hits you so hard it whites out your vision. Has you coating Joshua’s fingers and mouth. He guides you through your high as all the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re nothing more than a puddle on the bed when you feel him settle next to you. After giving you a minute to catch your breath, he pushes himself up to hover over you. Gives you what should be a gentle kiss until you wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. Even though he offsets some of his weight, there’s still a pleasant heaviness having him on top of you. It’s so comfortable that you could kiss him for hours without getting sick of it..

After a long moment, he pulls back to look at you. That tender look back on his face. “I hope that was okay.”

“You know I’m not complaining,” you say earnestly.

“I was wondering if I could make you squirt,” he teases and he’s all confidence again. You swat at his arm and pretend you’re going to wriggle away.

“I take it back,” you joke.

“No, you don’t,” he says, confident without being cocky.

And then he’s kissing you again. You’re back to tangling yourself up with him. Just letting things happen without overthinking anything. There’s something wonderful about this side of Joshua that just makes your mind go blank. Not even in a fucked stupid kind of way. It’s more like it just feels right. You feel safe and cared for in those moments. You also both feel a little insatiable. Simultaneously wanting to kiss for hours and unable to stop yourself from it turning heavier.

Joshua pulls back from the kiss and flops dramatically onto the bed next to you. You roll over and pro yourself up on an elbow to look at him. His eyes find yours, affectionate and also very clearly turned on. “If you don’t stop this, I’m going to want to be inside you again.”

“Me?” you ask, pretending to be shocked.

“Yes, you,” he says and leans forward to kiss your nose.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say and flutter your eyelashes.

“I bet you don’t,” he says quietly, unable to stop the light laugh. Then, takes a breath and sits up. Swings his legs out of the bed and reaches back to you. “Come on. Let’s clean up and go to sleep. We’re heading home tomorrow and it’ll be a lot easier to figure this out without so many nosy friends.”

You pout but accept his help, anyway. He’s right. Even if you can’t really get enough of him, you’re already going to be a little sore from this and you have an endless amount of time to figure things out. As you fall asleep that night, tangled up in him, you feel confident. This isn’t something confined to the little bubble of a vacation. He’ll tell you exactly how he feels and what he wants once you’re back home. Help you be brave enough to be just as honest. It’s definitely going to be enough.

The next morning is a flurry of activity. Everyone seems to have left packing for the morning, even though there shouldn’t be much to do since it’s only been a few days. People mumble greetings to each other around bites of breakfast as you all clean up. Somehow, things seem to have spread out much more than expected and you want to make sure everything is in good shape before leaving. Not that you let it get genuinely messy. It’s just that there’s 10 of you and you don’t want any sort of extra cleaning fee slapped onto Mingyu’s credit card. You’re still thankful he volunteered to take the charge (though, obviously, you all split the cost).

It also becomes clear that even though the check out time isn’t early, you should have set an alarm. Add in the fact that you’re very much sore thanks to Joshua, and it’s an interesting morning. Neither of you is trying to keep up any sort of facade around the other because the focus is making sure you’re ready to leave. It keeps you from even worrying if anyone notices something different. Then again, if things go the way you expect, all your friends will find out that something is going on soon enough. It’s just a matter of timing. A thought that puts you in an incredibly good mood. You don’t even notice that you’re humming while cleaning until Soonyoung starts singing along to the tune.

Worrying about anyone finding out becomes a moot point when you’re all getting ready to leave. At least, in part. Really, you should know better than to try to get anything by Jeonghan. After years of friendship, he easily knows you at least as well as you know yourself, probably better. And he knows something is up. You’re not sure if he knows the specifics. Don’t really want to think about if he somehow heard you and Joshua the night before.

Jennie seems to know something is up, too. You’re not sure whether she figured it out or if Jeonghan told her. Probably the latter, if you’re honest. She’s generally a little easier to fool that Jeonghan. As he’s prone to telling you, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, and nobody does bullshit better than him. He loves sniffing out a scheme almost as much as he loves coming up withit himself. It confirms your suspicions when you see him and Jennie whispering together then looking over at you. He doesn’t leave you waiting for his response either.

“Jennie’s coming back with me,” Jeonghan announces. “She offered to drive my car, and how can I say no?”

“And I’m supposed to head home alone?” you ask skeptically.

“Of course not!” Jeonghan says, pretending to be offended.

“We just thought you and Joshua could use the drive to work out whatever your issues are,” she chimes in, sharing a look.

“It’s like you don’t want them to make it back in one piece,” Mingyu jokes, but doesn’t otherwise comment. You can’t tell if he knows anything.

“Even I’m not going to leave you stranded in your time of need,” Joshua says, immediately falling into the plan. You can’t read the look on his face and you wonder if he already knew, too. Probably, knowing Jeonghan. He’s a demon, but he’s not cruel. He’s not going to put you in a situation you genuinely don’t want to be in without checking.

The rest of your friends laugh and continue to load up the car. You just shake your head at your best friend as he approaches you. He turns over his shoulder to call to Jennie. “I’ll be there in a sec!”

“What are you up to?” you ask in nearly a whisper.

“The better question, bestie, is what you’re up to,” he says, eyes sparkling. You open your mouth to protest and he holds up his hand. “You’re not as slick as you think you are. Did you forget we’ve been friends for a decade?”

“No, you’d never let me forget,” you joke and Jeonghan rolls his eyes.

“I told him that I didn’t expect him back tonight. But, please know, if I’m right, then I will be teasing you both without mercy,” he says and it’s your turn to laugh.

“There’s my best friend,” you say with a smile still in your eyes.

He’s serious for a moment. This is the side of Jeonghan that he reserves for only those closest to him. You wait patiently because you know whatever he has to say is important. “You seem happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. Don’t be afraid of that. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Hannie,” you say softly.

“Even if you did totally ignore the point of a single friends Valentine’s getaway,” he says, returning to his normal self as Joshua approaches.

“Goodbye,” you say and push him away.

His eyes fall on Joshua. “Take good care of her. You’re a great friend already, but she’s family.”

“I will,” Joshua promises and plucks the car keys out of your hand.

“Hey!” you protest and hear Jeonghan laughing as he walks away. “That’s my car.”

“And I’m an excellent driver,” he says before dropping his voice lower. “Come on and be my passenger princess.”

He really is going to have to stop making your brain short circuit like that. It’s diabolical. But, then again, that’s exactly who he is. Not like you expect him to change now. With one last look at the beautiful house, you get into the passenger door that Joshua holds open for you. You’re very thankful that you gave the weekend a chance. Even more thankful that you gave the man next to you in the driver’s seat a chance. He reaches a hand over to squeeze your thigh and you know it’s going to work out just fine.

if you made it through that insanity, thank you and tell me what you thought 💕

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @sunflowergyeomie, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harry-the-pottypus, @honglynights, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane, @thestraybunny

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icemankazansky · 8 months ago

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A Simple Guide to Not Being Afraid to Write Comments to Fic You Read

I've seen a lot of posts about the current state of fanfiction comments. Writers, especially writers who have been in fandom for a decade or more, are frustrated by the lack of comments, and have noticed a definite decline in comments (and all other forms of reader interaction) in the past ten years or so. Many readers feel daunted by the expectation of leaving comments, afraid they'll do something wrong. As a fandom old maid, the latter confused me for a while, until I realized that most of the people who feel that way probably have not been taught this form of communication.

But your loving fandom elders are here for you. Come along as your auntie tumblr user icemankazansky makes this shit easy.

The easiest way to think of fanfiction comment etiquette is to compare it to something you likely already know: Gift Receiving Etiquette.

Fanfiction began as largely a gift economy. And a lot of it still is! You'll see authors participate in exchanges like Yuletide and Id Pro Quo; those are ficswaps in which authors write for a specific person to specific prompts. And even outside that, fanfiction is not written for money; authors write and post it simply for the joy of creation and community with fellow fans. Fic is posted free for anyone to enjoy. Is that not a gift?

So. When you as a reader finish the chapter or story you're reading and you are faced with the comment box, try to follow the same etiquette you would when receiving a gift. (And even if you didn't love this gift and it's not your favorite gift ever, we already know that it's more useful than the products from your cousin's MLM that they're passing off as gifts, because you read the story. At the very least, it entertained you for the time you took to read it.)

The big rule of gift receiving etiquette is not to insult the person who gave you the gift, either directly or indirectly. That's it. Full stop.

I've been seeing a lot of comments lately that are just along the lines of, "Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us." A+, top of the class, full marks, you're doing amazing. If you don't feel comfortable commenting on the story itself, that is perfect feedback. And that's the most basic way you respond to a gift, yes? Thank you for the gift. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for sharing.

Does this rule mean that you cannot say anything at all that might be negative about anything? No, absolutely not. What you want to avoid is saying something that is, at its core, a negative evaluation of the author or their work. Let's do some examples.

Character A's obliviousness about Character B's MASSIVE crush on them made me so frustrated! I was tearing my hair out internally screaming, "JUST LET HIM LOVE YOU."

✔️ Excellent comment! You're allowed to have all sorts of feelings about things that happen in the story, and in fact authors LOVE to hear about any emotions they made you feel. Yes, frustration is not a positive emotion, but the thing you are expressing frustration about is not the author themselves or their shortcomings.

Contrast that to:

I was really frustrated that it took you so long to post this chapter. The cliffhanger at the end of the previous chapter had me tearing my hair out, and then you just left us hanging FOREVER!

❌ Nope! Here what you are expressing is frustration with the author and how fast they come out with new chapters. Imagine your sister buys you a gift for your birthday, but she isn't able to give it to you until the next week, and you respond with: "What took you so long?" I think Emily Post would frown on that.

Reframing

The way you say something and the point of view from which you give feedback can have a HUGE impact on the message you're sending. Let's take the last comment (the one about wanting an update) and see what happens when we reframe the same sentiment as a positive:

I was SO EXCITED to see that you updated this story! I have really been looking forward to seeing what happened after the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

✔️ Now it's not an insult. The author will be happy to know that you are happy to see new work from them.

This idea extends beyond the story itself: to the fandom, the characters, the pairing, the tropes, etc. Let's do some examples.

I looooove reading about these sexy boys SO IN LOVE even though the movie you're writing about is SOOOOO problematic.

❌ Nope! Assume that the author enjoys the canon, characters, pairing, etc. in the stories they write. This comment is insulting to the author because it basically says, "That thing you love is not great, and you should probably feel bad for liking it." Imagine your aunt gifts you a sweater from a popular retailer, and you respond with, "This is so cute, I love it! It's a shame that it was made in a sweatshop." Do you have a valid point about the canon or the retailer's business practices? You very well might. Is this the proper time and place to talk about it? Absolutely not.

Let's do a reframing exercise. You should be very careful about how you approach commenting negatively on anything in the story that appears in the tags list, but you can make it a compliment and good feedback if you have the right perspective. See the difference with these two approaches:

I kind of think frottage is disgusting, but I liked it in this story.

❌ Nope! You just told the author you think their kink is disgusting. That's like telling your poor aunt who is just trying to keep you warm this winter that she has awful taste in knitwear. Try again.

Frottage normally isn't my kink, but I love your other stories with this pairing, so I decided to give it a try, and I'm SOOOOO GLAD that I did! This story was 🔥🔥🔥

✔️ "This normally isn't my thing, but you made me expand my horizons!" Authors love to hear that. That's like telling your aunt, "I never thought this color looked good on me, but I look so cute in this sweater! I'm so glad you helped me step outside my comfort zone, because I'm the better for it."

thank u, next

The last thing I want to address is this new trend I've seen in commenting lately: placing an order. If your mom surprises you with new headphones, you don't respond with, "I wanted the white ones 🙁," or, "You should get me a new phone, too." It's easy to see why that isn't appropriate in a gifting situation, and it's also not appropriate when commenting on fanfiction.

Let's do some examples:

This fic was soooo cute, but it would have been a million times better if Character A had been with Character C instead of Character B.

❌ There are a few things going on here. Number one, you're telling your mom you wanted the white headphones, not the ones she actually bought you. You're also disparaging the A/B pairing that the author chose to write about, and as we discussed, we can assume that the author wrote the pairing because they liked it. Even if it's not their favorite and/or they also write A/C, they made a choice for this story to be A/B, and the comments section of a fic is not the place to question choices the author made in their own work.

You should write a story where Character Z who is not even in this story does [thing that is vaguely referenced in the B plot].

❌ "You should get me a new phone, too."

I want a sequel. 😞

❌ "Thank you, next!"

You can reframe this kind of sentiment if you are careful about it, and it's not all you say.

I really loved this story. I would be so interested to see these ideas explored further if you ever decide to write more in this universe.

✔️ Not "gimme." Not "more." This is, "If you build it, I will come." It is a HUGE difference.

You already know how to do this. You know how to graciously accept a gift; just use that same etiquette, and boom! Now you know how to fearlessly write a comment to fic you read. You're doing amazing. Go forth and comment.

#fandom #fanfiction #commenting #fanfiction etiquette #emily post please help me express my feelings about this yaoi

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thevillainswhore · 1 year ago

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New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.

“What the shit–“

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.

Had he been listening that whole time?

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.

Though, it is short lived.

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.

Okay, you think privately, so what?

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard.

Bucky… is a virgin?

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind.

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.

You can’t have that, though.

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him.

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries.

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”

That meant only one person was responsible.

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.

Love ya squirt,

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.

Part Two, Part Three

7K notes · View notes

defmaybe · 5 months ago

Text

J’adore

5.2k words

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

Prequel to Not Shy

A/N: Kind of extension to Not Shy! Also, this is my last sprint before the midterms lol, I’ll be back after that and try to write something good. Kinda rough bc there’s no beta-reading lol. Thanks for reading as always!!!

—

Spring

“You? A student council member?”

“It’s just the treasurer!”

It’s the easiest position, according to your seniors, which seems to be much, much more credible sources than Kai, the friend you got caught in a debate with.

“Just the treasurer. Mate, have you seen the lads from last year? I swear that one of them almost died.”

“I have to build my portfolio, man. You even have your dance club!” You retort, trying to grasp on something.

“Well, it’s because I like to dance.” Kai says in a mocking tone. He doesn't mean to be condescending, of course. He’s your best friend, after all. “Do you like to work with Excel?”

“I mean–”

“Board games? No, too nerdy. Cheerleader? No, too demanding. And then you fucking jumped onto the student council? I swear, man, you definitely have some kind of death wish,” he says.

You sigh, surrendering to his points. Still, you're too deep in the application process to turn back now. You look back at your phone, seeing all the completed questions in the form.

“I’m not leaving you behind, still,” Kai says, patting your back. “I’ll give you caffeine when you need it.”

Do you think you’re qualified to be a student council member?

Yes.

“I’m sending it now.”

“Good luck.”

Submit

Thank you for your submission. We will announce our selection by May 1st.

—

Summer

Maybe it was how the last year’s council members turned out to be. You were the only one who applied for the treasurer's position. Hell, even the other ones aren’t any more popular either. There was no one in the head of first aid, and they had to roll out another round of applications for that.

The fresh faces of the new student council members are all standing inside this meeting room—so determined, so passionate. Their chatters fill the room up with life.

You glance around the room. You’re familiar with some of them, walk-pasts in the hallways, sitting-fars in the classes, until one woman catches your eye.

Yoo Jimin, you’ve heard that she beat the second place applicant for president by quite a margin. Her confidence is probably what makes her so alluring to the students. Also, her face, fuck, her face, she’s the fucking epitome of perfection.

Maybe it’s the way you stare at her for just a little too long; she starts to walk towards you, and that’s when you fell into her trap for the first time.

She stops just a step away, offering you a handshake—firm, assured.

“Yoo Jimin,” she declares—stern, expressionless.

“Pleasure to meet you, Jimin.” You accept her grip, lips curling inward, letting out a minuscule smile—relaxed, reserved.

“We’ll be working together for the next year. I’m looking forward to it.” She keeps it professional in the expression she makes. There’s nothing to be made of it, except for the fact that she’s very reticent with her face.

You force out another small smile. “I’m also looking forward to it, Jimin.”

—

“Areas! I need two tables and four chairs. Parcels, get your equipment ready.”

The first meeting between the freshmen and their seniors is always the hardest to perfect. There’s the idea that the first impression defines the future of the relationship between the two. So, here you are, in your faculty’s First Meet event. You’re lucky that they let you use the air conditioners on the d-day. Those fucking run-throughs got you all melted.

You have little work to do today, having managed the proposals and preparing to do the post-production stuff. So, you’re at the core team’s table, playing whatever your old laptop can handle, until—

“Are you free?”

You look up from your screen to see the angelic figure that is Yoo Jimin standing in front of you, towering you with ease with you sitting in your seat.

“Uh–,” you can only let out a hesitation.

“I guess you’re—” she bends over the desk to see the gaming screen, before letting out a small laugh. “—free?”

“Y–Yes, Jimin.” A slight view of her cleavage can be seen with her posture, and you have to do your best to find something else to look at.

“Good. Can you help us carry a few tables?”

You look at your frail arms—should’ve done some more work at the gym. “If you want me to tear my biceps.”

Jimin chuckles, before closing on your ear, left hand pressing on your right thigh, “Don’t worry that you wouldn’t be able to jerk off, treasurer. I can do it for you.”

You freeze, not believing the words coming out of her mouth. Did she just say that? Such lewd words?

Jimin, sensing your tensed up body, pulls back from you and laughs. “Oh my god, look at you. I was just fucking with you!”

“Good grief, Jimin. You could’ve killed me,” you huff.

She shoots back a beam. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

—

Fall

The clicking sound of your keyboard and the scratches of the bills you’re arranging permeates the room this evening. Jimin is sitting on the other side of the trash-ridden table—stationeries, snack wraps—eyes unfocused as she swipes one short video after another. Her thoughts seem to be elsewhere now. Dinner? Bed? Someone? You’ll never know.

“Fucking hell, this bitch again,” she mutters under her breath, which you catch. You look up from the budget plan you’re working on, meeting her eyes.

“Sorry, Tinder stuff.”

You return her a tiny smile before going back to inputting the bills. Still, you can hear Jimin’s tossing and turning in her chair as she seems to type something into her phone, before smashing her thumb on the right side of its poor screen. You can’t help but let out a chuckle, one that she catches.

“Yeah, it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” Jimin rhetorizes, placing her phone on the table. “A student president that just can’t find any partner.”

You shrug, still typing, “Well, the work is gruelling.” And she chuckles at your statement.

“Yeah, I guess so. But it’s just, how to explain?” She furrows her eyebrows, tapping her chin to seek the right word in the air, before coming to an answer. “I just can’t find the right person, you know? Half of the line is gone once I show any bit of confidence, and the other half are, well, clingy ass bitches.”

You smile back at her, trying to give her some solace in solitude. “I’m sure you’ll find the right person soon, Jimin. You like–have the whole faculty in your hands.”

She gives you a weak smile. “You always have pleasant words for everyone, treasurer.”

You smile back before returning to your accounting work, unbeknownst to the light bulb brightening up inside her head.

“So, how’s your love life?” She asks, rising from the other side. She leans forward ever so slightly, hands supporting her frame on the white table, slightly revealing the valley of her breasts.

You break yourself from the laptop, once again, meeting her cleavage in your line of sight for a split second. It’s magnetic, but you’re able to resist it, for now.

“Hmm?”

“I mean… you don’t seem to be an awful choice for women, or men, judging from… how many months?”

“Four,” and you gulp.

“Yeah, four months with you, my treasurer. But I’ve never quite caught you being involved in anything,”—she stands up straight, before slowly striding towards your seat, hips swaying at each nifty step—“romantic.”

You clench your eyes ever so tightly at her alluring motion—the swaying hips, the crossing steps—as if there’s anything to examine but her burning lust. “Well, Jimin, I don’t think the passive mid-table guys get much,” you state.

“Is that so? Because you don’t seem to belong at the mid-table.” The distance between you two is shrinking, slowly. And with a few more small steps, you find her towering over you, chest basking in front of your face.

Jimin bends down slowly, revealing just a slight sight of her gorgeous cleavage. The poor crop top is struggling to hold her supple flesh within, even with the workshop shirt helping. You shift just slightly in your seat.

Your eyes are doing their best to resist the magnetic force, but her big brown eyes aren't a sanctuary, either.

“Thanks, miss president.”

Her Dior J’adore is enrapturing you.

“You know, I notice the perfume you wear every day, even if it’s just CK One.” She forces sultry into her perceptive words, and to say, it works. She drags her right middle finger along the length of your arm, lighting a fire in its trail.

You try to keep your composure; it works, for now. She doesn’t seem to notice the sweat hanging off your forehead yet.

“Or how you dress so damn well to class, even if it’s some fuckass subject,” Jimin continues, tracing her hands up to your forearm now.

Your breath hitches, and you can just connect the dots so easily.

“W–Why me, though, Jimin?”

“Oh, clever boy, I just need the real thing, that’s all,” she coos. Her digits are playing with the line of your collarbones now.

“See, I’m just so fucking sick of my—well, what’s the word, devices. They’re pleasurable, sure, but unlike a real person, which in this case—is you—” Her hand grabs your chin from behind, and you can’t find any resistance. Her sonic reduces into a sensual whisper into your ear. “—they lack warmth.”

“S–So, do you want to have—”

“Sex? Yes, I want you inside me, baby. I want you body clashing against mine, while you moan my name like you’re some common whore.”

It’s haywire, your mind. You are lost in her—her voice, her face, her body, everything that’s about Jimin. Is she really inviting you to have sex with her? Is this interaction even real?

“So, what do you say, wanna go somewhere after this? Somewhere—small, somewhere—private.” Her voice dives into a whisper beside your ear, and you can feel a smile forming beside it. “I’m sure you can work on your bills—anywhere.”

You stare forward, trying to look unfazed to cover your crumbling composure.

“I–I can work on the bills anywhere, Jimin.” Your voice betrays you.

She gives a quiet laugh, “Good to know, treasurer,” before lightly grabbing your chin, with her index and middle finger resting on your lips. Are they seeking silence or entry?

Slowly, they push your upper lip ever so slightly, eliciting a whimper from you. Fuck, is she trying to—

“You know what to do, baby.”

Rejection.

Hesitation.

Submission.

You open your mouth for her—now courtesy of Yoo Jimin. You take in her fingers. They’re cold from the air conditioner. Bite. Lick. Swallow. You close your eyes while doing so, absorbing her taste with your tongue. You feel you’re under her control—so submissive. It’s ecstatic.

“God, do you like being called a whore? Because you’re acting like one right now,” Jimin asks.

You profusely nod at her statement, continuing to suck on her fingers.

“Then keep doing it, whore.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you can hear her giggle. And as your vision comes back to her, the free hand is rubbing against her clothed core now. Mewling sounds can be heard.

“God, keep sucking it, baby. I’ve never cummed as fast as this before.”

“Ngh.” And you keep sucking her fingers.

A sound of the door stops you in your tracks though.

“Guys, I need a few chairs–am I interrupting something?”

Ning Yizhuo, head of student welfare, barges into the room. She stares straight at you two. Good thing Jimin pulls her digits out and puts them behind her back before Yizhuo’s eyes catch sight of you glistening on her, leaving you stranded in your burning desire for your president.

Maybe it’s the way your eyes are still fluttering. Maybe it’s the way your mouth ever so slightly hangs open. Maybe it’s your quick breaths.

Yizhuo wants to know what’s up.

“We’re just–” Jimin tries to find the right word in your eyes. Her blinks are rapid. She’s concerned. She’s afraid.

“You’re–what?” Yizhuo isn’t a patient figure. She’s trying to gauge something out of Karina.

“I–I’m adjusting his posture! O–Our dear treasurer has a bad sitting posture and–”

“Cut the shit, Jimin. What the fuck did you guys do?”

“S–See, he’s sitting a lot, you know? B–Bills. Accounting. Excel stuff.” Jimin’s brows hint at the concern within her chuckle. She pushes the middle of your back to set you straight up. As you follow her move, Yizhuo clenches her eyes.

“Just get me some chairs and don’t fuck inside this room.”

—

Jimin swings her door open, and as expected, every single bit of it is immaculately kept clean. There’s not a single piece of trash on the floor of her white room; the table is meticulously arranged; the bed is folded. There’s a Meteora vinyl placed on her shelf. God, what a tasteful woman.

“Drop your bag.”

You comply as she also does so.

And she immediately pounces on your body, consuming your taste and scent at your nape. Her lips are wet, sending shocks through your pliant frame.

“Mmph, keep this perfume, baby. I just wanna have this scent of you every day.”

It’s CK One.

She plants her kisses along your neck—standing up straight—ever so determined to make you hers. Her hands lock your shifting, shaking body in place, despite being so eager to feel every inch of you—up and down.

“So—pliant, so—submissive,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you deflect, trying to have a hold of the battle. There’s a glint of brattiness inside you that wants to resist her just a little, just before you give in.

“Is that so?” Jimin mewls, before pushing you onto the bed.

“I’m not letting you have me that easily, miss president,” you say with your back against her soft cushion. Jimin is straddling her lean, lengthy legs over yours. She looks so damn tall from this view—you lying beneath her.

“Sucking my fingers, then decide to be a bratty bitch right now—” She lightly taps the tip of your nose, also scrunching hers. “—I like that.”

You say nothing, giving her just a wink from below.

“Oh, baby, I’ll have you scream my name so many times.”

“Fucking make me then.”

And fires ignite in her eyes.

She dives onto your left ear—nibbling, biting, swallowing, whatever she can do with her mouth without tearing your auricle off. Her deep moans send suppressed shudders through your neurons.

Jimin spreads saliva all over your ear, no sign of relenting. Slurping sounds of her flesh ring in your head. She plants each lick with purpose, and it sends jolts and jolts through your body. Still, you’re far from falling apart—tethered on the ground.

“Tsk, i–is this the best y–you can do?”

“Oh, baby, you’re already stuttering? I can do more if you want~,” she tastefully threatens. Then, she brings her right hand into play, tilting your chin up. Your mouth is right beside her neck. The pale smoothness of her skin is presented in front of you, and you just can’t help but—

“F–Fuck!” Jimin yells, clearly enraptured with the swipes of tongue you are giving her. Still, she keeps spreading her saliva on your ear as if it’s hers (it’s hers).

“Oh, b–baby boy, maybe you can use your t–tongue on other things instead,” she whines.

“Your cunt?” You keep stretching your tongue onto her nape, getting a taste of her sweat.

She pulls back from you, robbing the sensations away from your throat. “Clever, now just lie like this. I’m riding your pretty face.”

Jimin then takes off her purple lace panties, giving you a hint of her wet cunt—unshaved—as she lifts her leg, before stuffing the garment onto your nose. Fuck, her musk is so intense; you can just die happily right here.

“You just love it, don’t you?”

You sheepishly nod, pressing her panties against your nose even tighter, eliciting laughs from her sinful mouth.

“I think that’s enough, baby. I wanna fuck your face now,” she says, before tossing away the filthy garment.

Jimin then moves forward on her knees, bringing her heat closer and closer to your face. God, the fact that she’s unshaved only brings you higher. You need to slurp her juice; you need it on your face, you–

“Ready?”

Her cunt is hovering above you now, she’s pulling her skirt up, letting you see her face for the last time before being buried under her.

You nod.

And she sinks onto your face.

The first contact is soft, so, so soft. You’re practically making out with pussy, as she shakes above you erratically. There isn’t much light, with her skirt darkening your vision of what’s around, but it’s like you’d complain. You’re eating your student president out in her room, and you’re doing it so, so well that it sends shivers through her body, again and again.

“Ngh, f–fuck!” Jimin shouts from above—the things you’d do to see her face right now, to see an effect you’re having on her.

You say nothing, just keep lapping up her folds enthusiastically. Her juice drips into your mouth—sweet.

Jimin starts to grind her hips, as the moans grow louder. She’s getting wetter, and you’re still happily drinking her sugary nectar—drunk with it.

“Ah, ah, y–you’re doing well, my treasurer.”

You give her a thumbs up. You keep licking her cunt as if your life is depending on it. She moans so loud; everyone on this floor is probably going to hear that, but you don’t care anymore. The only thing in your head right now is to please Jimin—only Yoo Jimin.

And you can feel her thighs tense, shaking with pleasure. She’s going to cum. Her moans grow more chaotic and shorter than they were.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, fuck!”

She cums hard, collapsing onto the bed, cunt still on your face, ass up in the air. Her core clenches and clenches on your face, and she just forgets to breathe as her hips convulse.

“No squirt today, huh?” you joke from below.

She snaps back into the situation she’s in, sneering, “Fuck off, don’t fucking play stupid with me, wh–whore.”

You laugh, “Alright, alright, let’s get to the main course, shall we?”

“Y–Yeah.”

Jimin lifts off from you, leaving a string of her lubricant between your lips and her cunt.

“God, that’s hot,” you just can’t help but say it.

She giggles, and you can now see the sweat forming on her forehead; there’s beauty in it.

You two, in a haste, discard all of your clothes until you’re left with nothing—just bare bodies on the bed together. You’re sitting opposite of her, expecting her to say something.

She looks ethereal under the room light. The messy hair, the perfect features, the bare body, they all combine into the epitome of perfection right in front of you. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

“Can I suck your tits?” you mutter. Fuck reticence, you need her, now.

She chuckles. “Sure, but only if I’m on top of you.”

“You just have to find a way to dominate me, don’t you?” you huff.

“Don’t say it like you don’t like it, baby.” She caresses your cheeks, and you shiver at her touch.

You lie down, as she slowly eclipses the light above both of you. Her large breasts are hanging down so close to your face. And—

“F–Fuck!”

You latch your mouth on her right breast as if it’s innate, with your hand kneading on the other. She lets out empyrean moans that only makes you want to suck on them even more. God, you can do this all day.

And not wanting to wait anymore, she impales her cunt with your cock, and you can only moan into her tits. This sensation, it’s overwhelming. Her velvety walls are hugging you so, so tightly. It’s so warm. She’s warm.

“Fuck,” she groans, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Your cock is so well-bent, baby. It’s hitting my g-spot so good.”

“T–Thanks, J–Jimin.” Your mind is so damn clouded by the pleasure that you can say nothing but her name right now.

And a crack starts to form when she moves—up and down. Her unshaved cunt dragging along your digit, emanating pleasure all over your body from the core.

“B–Babe, c–can you stop s–sucking my tits?” she pleads.

You pull yourself out of her mounds, as she’s still riding you like there’s no tomorrow, and you let out small moans at each contact. “W–What? Ngh.”

“I wanna kiss you.”

You freeze under her. She’s still motioning herself to squeeze the cum out of you, whimpering each time your cock hits the hilt. Is it a confession? Does she love—

“B–Babe,” she brings you back to the mortal world.

“Y–Yeah, kiss me.”

She invades your mouth as if it wasn’t already hers at the second she sits on your face. Your tongues intertwine in a quest to declare their feelings of their owners.

Your hands are still squeezing her breasts. It’s addictive. You press and press into her flesh just to feel her as much as you can. This might as well be the only body you want to have just to yourself, as you dedicate yours to her. Every curve, every contour, every limb, you want her; you want her to want you; you need her. This kiss, fuck, it’s doing wonders to you.

She’d be the one to break off from the kiss to pant above you, hips still smashing into yours in a perfect rhythm.

“W–Wanna go out with me?” she asks.

She’s desperate, all the Tinder dates, all the–

“Babe, I–I fucking know that it’s desperate, yes or no. Fuck those Tinder dates, fuck those guys and girls, I–I want to go out with you, t–treasurer,” she pants.

Maybe it’s her J’adore that’s permeating all over you. Maybe it’s the way your hips are clashing into each other. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the glint in her eyes.

But if you have to recall, it’d be the confidence she’s radiating in clashing your flesh together just right now.

You nod.

Jimin smiles, pulling you into another kiss. You swear it can tear you apart if you have to let this woman go—figuratively.

She pulls off, her breaths becoming shorter and shorter again. “C–Can you cum with me, baby?”

Again, you nod, smiling. It’s inside your loins, building up, building up. Your body tenses up beneath her, same as hers. It’s there. It’s there.

“Fuck, baby, breed me. I’m yours, just breed me, just–ugh!”

And her whole body freezes, juices flowing onto your crotch. Her face is contorted by the pleasure coursing through her. Again, she forgets to breathe, back arching. You don’t slow down, though. Your orgasm is coming too.

“B–Babe–ah!”

It breaks. You busy yourself inside her to the hilt. Just like her, you forget to breathe. You shoot spurts of your seed deep into her womb, intending to breed her as her wish. Your cock shakes inside her, as she moans at each twitch.

It subsides, eventually. The shots get softer and softer to the point the cum just dribbles off the tip of you now. Fuck, your juices even leak out of her cunt onto your crotch, mixed together.

“F–Fuck,” is all she can say, before collapsing onto you, chest pressed up against yours.

“The plan’s still up?”

“Yeah.”

And she slips to the side, embracing you from behind, as you two doze off in the nocturne.

—

“Can I use your toothbrush?”

A long drag of uncertainty comes from the outside. Sun has risen hours ago, yet you two are still in the drowsy state.

“Or do I have to kiss you again for the answer, Jimin?”

“Put your morning breath away from me!”

At least she’s quick with her riposte.

As you brush your teeth, naked, she saunters into the bathroom, still similarly bare from last night. Her breasts bounce ever so slightly with each step in the mirror. Despite the disheveled appearance, her natural beauty shines through the mess—a seraphic being, one might say.

“Ha, yeah, I know I’m pretty, baby,” she says. “People would kill to have a body like me.”

You finish your clean up, before saying, “You’re insufferable, you know?”

Jimin laughs, before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, emanating mellow all over your face. Fuck, you can feel the blood rushing to your erection now.

“You too, babe.” She smiles, before grabbing her mouthwash for a gargling.

Your cock, again, finds the condition to rise in front of this woman. It’s twitching, and you just have to turn back before she notices it.

Still, her sharp eyes find you, and she gives you a small slap on your bare ass, sending pleasure rushing through your body.

“Hey!” she growls with the mouthwash, before quickly disposing of it. “You’re fucking hard again?”

“I–I–I–uh–”

Jimin then presses herself up against your back, arms ever so tightly trapping you from behind in a hug. It’s warm. She’s warm.

“Let me, baby,” she whispers against your wobbling right ear. “I can’t have my co-workers’ needs go unsated.”

“F–Fucking hell.”

In one careful motion, Jimin slides her arms down to your erection, right hand grabbing the length. “Wouldn’t mind some respect from my baby boy~” Her grip and the languid, careful strokes make your legs wobble.

“Tsk, n–no fucking way, J–Jimin,” you muster any inhibition you have left to deflect.

“Well, then.” Jimin then tightens her hold on your cock, transpiring both pain and pleasure to you. “How about now?”

“Nghhhh, f–fuck,” you cry out, the contorted expression appears in the mirror.

“Just like that, baby, moan for me. Show me who owns you,” Jimin coos, loosening her hold a slight, still keeping the adagio tempo.

“Nnnh, J–Jimin.”

“Good boy, good boy,” she murmurs.

She drags her filthy hand up and down your cock so leisurely, finding the rhythm for your pliancy. She strokes and strokes to build you up to the second release with her, this time by her hand.

It feels like eternity—the way her unhurried digits find the pace that would make you want so much more, or how she whispers ‘good boy’ into your ear every time she wants a whiff of reassurance of control. It’s like she needs one, anyway, judging by how you’re moaning like a bitch right now.

“God, you’re making so much sound for me.” The way she swipes her index finger at the tip of your cock on each stroke, fuck, you can fall onto the floor right here and now. “Wanna see your face in the mirror, baby?”

You turn your head leftwards to find reflections of a contorted face and a grin side by side. Her hand is diligent as ever—building you up to your inevitable release.

“What do you say, baby? Wanna see our faces in the mirror?” she inquires again. You can feel a mischievous smile beside your ear.

“Ngnh, a–alright.”

With ease, she forces your body to turn into your image of the ball of lust—the shower of kisses on your neck; the hand sliding up and down your cock; the thigh pressing up against your ass. You shift and shift within her restraint, and that seems to only fuel her fire.

“Moan some more for me, baby. I wanna hear your voice. I want my men moaning.”

You comply, letting out a series of whimpers just for your student president. The sensation of her hand is so damn enthralling—each slide, each nick of a finger, each twist of her wrist, they are all designed to make you surrender to her.

“Good boy. Your moans are so pleasing to hear, you know that?”

“Nngh, t–thanks, Jimin.”

“Wanna up the ante, baby? I can do it faster~” As if her languid tempo isn’t already doing its job in trapping you inside her overflowing lust.

You hesitate, finding yourself wanting this act to go on to such lengths, maybe even when the sun sets again. Being under her comforting warmth is too satisfying.

“I–I don’t know, Jimin.”

“Oh, this baby can’t decide? Guess I’ll just have to–”

She suddenly lets go of your length, cutting your string of desire so easily. You whine, as Jimin lets out a laugh.

“Don’t!” you say in a rush, and letting go the hand you haven’t realized you’ve been holding—hers.

Jimin giggles. “Say please, baby.” She tightens her hug on you, squeezing the plea out.

Your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“Please, Jimin.”

“Good boy.” And she wraps her hand around your erection again, casually stroking it.

“Ngh.”

The sound of her jerking your shaft fills the room. It’s heavenly—her voluptuous chest pressing up against your arching back with right hand busy sliding on your rod. She does it so cleanly—the technique, the pace. You swear you will cum by the second she whispers another ‘good boy’ into your welcoming ears.

As if she knows your inevitable release, she seeks a higher speed on your cock, stroking it with a swiftness that tries to draw out your moan and your cum as much as she can.

“Ngh, J–Jimin,” you whimper.

“Oh, gonna cum already, baby?” Jimin giggles at your crumble, before giving a peck on your left cheek. “Go on, cum for me. Cum, just like you did last night inside me.”

White spots start to form within your vision. Your breaths become more erratic. It’s there. It’s there.

“Jimin~”

And you explode all over her mirror, painting white streaks on it. You are left with ecstasy on your face as Jimin smiles at your release. Your body shrieks and shudders in her embrace. Your cock twitches in her hand, sending flying ropes of cum everywhere. Fuck.

“Yes, baby, just like that.” Her voice is deep—so seductive.

You continue to shake in her hold, not being able to subside from your high so quickly. Your release grows lighter and lighter in her hand, until it comes out in drops, finally letting you catch your breath.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, before forcing your body towards hers. You are spun around, and she gives you a kiss.

It’s short, but it’s powerful—no tongue fighting for dominance, no slurping sounds, just a kiss.

And she pulls back from it once she’s satisfied, judging from the smile on her face.

“Wanna do this again?” she asks.

“Definitely—well—maybe. You know Yizhuo would beat our asses if she catches us again, right?”

“Just shut up, babe. She won’t know if you’re good with secrets like me.”

You pout, bringing out a laugh from her.

Winter

“It’s going well, isn’t it?” Kai asks.

You give him a small smile. “It’s bearable, yeah.”

“Good to know, good to know.” He then takes a sip of his latte from his cup, looking outside.

“Fuck, I forgot to ask you this,” you say. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh yeah! In fact, there’s a woman I've been seeing recently, Yizhuo. You probably know her, right? You guys are working together,” Kai answers.

“Oh,” you utter. “Oh.”

He chuckles, before continuing, “Yeah, I know it’s weird–”

“No, no, not at all, bro,” you deflect with a chuckle along with him. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Kai, still chuckling, inquires, “How about you? It’s gotta be more than ‘bearable’ for you to be all happy like this.”

You give him a smile.

#karina #karina smut #karina x reader #aespa #aespa smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #male reader smut

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thedensworld · 6 months ago

Text

Arrangement Crossed | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x reader

Genre: arrange engagement au

Summary: Mingyu started to enjoy the arrangement between him and you. What should he do?

Why do birds suddenly appear everytime that you near? Just like me i long to be close to you. - Close To You by Carpenters

Mingyu sprinted from his car, heart pounding, as he rushed toward the scene. One of the doctors at the hospital had mentioned that a fire had broken out in a Gangnam district building—your building. His breath was ragged as he pushed through the crowd, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Paramedics and firefighters swarmed the area, the flames now subdued, but the remnants of the fire still smoked in the air. A police officer stopped him from moving closer.

"My fiancée lives there," Mingyu gasped, his voice tight with anxiety.

Just as the officer held him back, he spotted you in the distance. You were casually walking, still in your pajamas, holding a half-eaten ice cream cone. Mingyu's eyes widened, watching as your expression changed the moment you took in the sight of your charred apartment building.

"My apartment!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with frustration as Mingyu hurried over to you.

Mingyu quickly examined you, scanning for any signs of injury. A wave of relief washed over him when he realized you had been safely outside while the fire ravaged your home. His tense shoulders relaxed for the first time since hearing the news.

"Where were you?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you seemed so unfazed by the chaos around you.

You blinked, a bit dazed by everything. "I was out for a meal..."

Mingyu glanced at his watch—half and an hour left before his surgery. "I'm glad you're alright. I’ll drive you to my place for now. I’ve got surgery in an hour."

The procedure went smoothly, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him as he sat in his office afterward. All he wanted was to go home and collapse into bed. But he hesitated, remembering that you were now at his apartment. The two of you had never really shared a space before, and the thought made him uneasy. After all, this wasn’t a typical engagement.

A year ago, your families had arranged for you two to be engaged. It was strictly business—a merger of two powerful legacies. Your family owned the hospital where Mingyu worked, while his family operated a successful medical and paramedical equipment company. It made sense for the families to align themselves, and though the proposal had taken him by surprise, Mingyu agreed to the engagement. What really caught him off guard was that you agreed too.

From what Mingyu knew, you ran a small homemade Korean restaurant near Seoul University. It wasn’t a huge enterprise, but it had a loyal customer base thanks to its affordable prices and excellent food. When news of the engagement broke, everyone speculated that your family needed Mingyu to step in and continue running the hospital, especially since you showed no interest in taking it over yourself. Mingyu knew he benefited a lot from this arrangement—more than he was willing to admit sometimes.

It was nearly morning when Mingyu finally arrived home, expecting you to be fast asleep. He took a quick shower, hoping to unwind before getting some rest. But when he stepped into the living room, he nearly jumped out of his skin. You were sitting on the couch, staring into the darkness.

"You scared me!" Mingyu muttered, his heart still racing. "Why aren’t you sleeping?"

You shot him a sharp look, your voice dry. "My house just burned down. How could I possibly sleep soundly?"

Ah, right. He had forgotten that small but important detail.

"Right... of course." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, make yourself at home. Feel free to use the kitchen if you want breakfast. I’ll head to bed."

Mingyu retreated to his room, hoping for some much-needed rest. But as he lay there, he found sleep impossible. His mind kept drifting back to the strange reality that the two of you were now sharing a roof. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you—far from it. You were smart, independent, and capable. But the idea of being engaged, living together, and yet still feeling like you were strangers unnerved him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

"Yeah, she's fine. She's alright. She's with me. I'll handle things with the building owner about her place. You don’t have to worry, sir." Mingyu reassured your father over the phone as he finished getting ready for work.

Despite having only gotten three hours of sleep, Mingyu needed to be at the hospital for an early morning meeting as the branch director. He had already filled your father in on last night’s fire, assuring him that you were safe and staying with him for the time being. Ending the call, he stepped out of the closet and made his way to the kitchen, where he was greeted by the sight of you preparing breakfast.

You were wearing one of his shirts.

"I’ll call you later, sir," Mingyu said quickly before hanging up, his eyes immediately locking with yours as he entered the kitchen.

You glanced at him briefly, then gestured for him to sit down as you placed the plates on the table. Mingyu couldn’t help but stare for a moment. You must have noticed because you spoke up.

"I didn’t have any clothes with me," you explained, a hint of self-consciousness in your voice. "I borrowed your shirt, if you don’t mind."

Mingyu nodded. "It's fine."

An awkward silence lingered for a moment before he asked, "Is there anything you need to do today?"

You thought for a second. "I definitely need to get some clothes first. And maybe check on the restaurant."

Mingyu thanked you for the food as you joined him at the table. He picked up his spoon, and as soon as he took a bite, his eyes widened in surprise. The breakfast was incredible. He had visited your restaurant a couple of times and knew you were the mastermind behind the recipes, having graduated with a degree in culinary arts. But still, he hadn’t expected his simple morning meal to taste this good.

"How about your belongings?" he asked between bites. "Anything important you need to check, like documents or valuables?"

"Luckily, I left all my important documents at my parents' place," you said, relieved. "But I do need to talk to the building owner about the fire and the damage."

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. "I’ll go with you."

You both finished breakfast in comfortable silence, and as Mingyu got up to leave for work, he thanked you again for the meal. Before heading out, he made a few calls, one to the aunt who cleaned his house regularly, asking her to pick up some women’s clothes for you, and another to the building manager to arrange an extra parking space for your car.

As he drove to the hospital, he reflected on the morning. He hadn’t expected starting the day with you to feel so... easy. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like if your engagement weren’t just a business arrangement. The thought lingered in the back of his mind as he went on with his day.

"Doctor Kim, thank you for the meal!" the nurses chimed in as Mingyu passed by the emergency room station during his daily rounds.

He blinked in confusion, unsure of what they were referring to. Then, he spotted the neatly packed meals from your restaurant sitting on the counter. You had sent food to his staff. It was thoughtful—something he hadn't expected but appreciated. Mingyu smiled and waved to the nurses, telling them to enjoy the meal before heading to his office, where he found a meal from your restaurant waiting for him as well.

Mingyu quickly shot you a text: Thanks for the meal, everyone’s enjoying it.

You didn’t respond, and Mingyu wasn’t surprised. He rarely texted you, and from what he had observed, you were just as busy as he was. He could understand if you weren’t glued to your phone all the time. Besides, it’s not like he was your priority when it came to messaging.

Over the past week of living together, Mingyu had noticed that the two of you had fallen into a quiet, predictable routine. You would both wake up early, have breakfast together, head off to work, return late in the evening, and go straight to bed. The cycle repeated itself day after day, with only a few short exchanges of "How was work?" or "Did you sleep well?" in between. It was strange to be living under the same roof, sharing meals, and yet feeling like you were still strangers in many ways.

That morning, you casually mentioned that you had signed the lease on a new apartment, not far from your restaurant.

"Do you want to go furniture shopping with me?" you asked over breakfast.

"Sure" Mingyu agreed without hesitation.

And now, here he was, sitting on his couch in a casual outfit, waiting to go furniture shopping with you. It felt like an odd thing to be doing with someone who was supposed to be his fiancée, yet didn’t quite feel like one. Still, Mingyu couldn’t shake the curiosity growing inside him—the thought of spending more time with you, learning more about you beyond the polite small talk and daily routine. He wasn't sure if it would change anything between you, but part of him wanted to try.

"This couch looks good. It fits a lot of people," Mingyu said, running his hand over the fabric as you continued to browse.

You shook your head, clearly unimpressed. "I don't get visitors."

Mingyu chuckled, leaning in a little closer. "What about friends? Boyfriend, maybe?" he teased with a playful grin.

You scoffed and held up your left hand, flashing the engagement ring in front of him. "In case you forgot, I’m engaged."

Mingyu’s eyes flickered to the ring, and he was momentarily struck by the sight of it. You always wore the ring, even though the engagement had been arranged. He, on the other hand, rarely wore his—only during major events or family meetings where it was expected. His profession didn’t really allow for accessories, so he often went without it. But seeing you wear it regularly was a subtle reminder of the commitment hanging between you both.

"Right, how could I forget?" he replied, smoothly continuing the conversation as if the ring hadn’t stirred something unspoken inside him.

Despite the casual banter, the moment felt a little heavier than it should have. He couldn't quite shake the realization that the ring—a symbol of their engagement—was more present in your life than his. It was a quiet declaration, whether intentional or not, that you were his fiancée.

When it came time to pay, Mingyu insisted on covering everything, even after your countless protests. He waved off your refusals, casually brushing them aside as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to take care of it.

"A rib for dinner?" Mingyu requested once he done paying. How dare you to refused.

After ten days of living together, Mingyu realized how quiet and empty his place felt without you around. He found himself looking for any excuse to see you, whether it was a quick text, a call, or even dropping by your restaurant. Without fully realizing it, the relationship between the two of you had begun to shift into something he hadn’t expected.

At this point, almost all of your staff knew him. They had even started referring to him as "the boss's handsome fiancé" every time he walked through the door. This month alone, he had visited your restaurant 8 times—sometimes for a meal, sometimes just to drive you home. And he was relieved that you didn’t seem uncomfortable with his presence. In fact, you appeared to be getting used to it, just as he was.

One afternoon, as Mingyu made his rounds at the hospital, he overheard a group of nurses whispering as he passed by, his name mentioned in their conversation.

"If she's the daughter of the owner, then she must be Doctor Kim’s fiancée, right?"

Mingyu, always the friendly type, chimed in with a grin. "I heard my name."

The nurses looked a bit startled but quickly filled him in. "Doctor Kim, the owner's daughter was brought into the emergency room after being assaulted. Isn't she your fiancée?"

What?

Mingyu’s stomach dropped. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his phone and immediately dialed your number. It rang, but someone else picked up.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

"Ah, Mr. Kim? She left her phone behind. She's at the hospital right now. A crazy person caused a scene and she got hurt."

Mingyu didn’t wait for more details. He bolted to the emergency room, his mind racing. When he got there, he hurried to the nurses’ station and asked for your whereabouts.

They directed him to a bed where he finally saw you—sitting up, your arm and head wrapped in bandages, while a doctor carefully tended to your injuries. Relief washed over him, but it was mixed with a surge of worry and anger at what had happened.

He approached you cautiously, his heart still pounding in his chest.

You looked up at Mingyu and smiled, a wave of relief washing over you as soon as you saw him by your side. As the doctor finished tending to your wounds, he greeted Mingyu and explained that you would need to wait for the results of the X-ray, as you had hit your head during the incident.

Once the doctor left, Mingyu turned his full attention to you, his eyes scanning over your injuries with a mixture of concern and relief. Without saying a word, he gently pulled you into an embrace, holding you close as if making sure you were really okay.

"I'm so glad it wasn't worse," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with emotion. He pulled back slightly to look at you. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the lingering tension from the day. "There was this drunk guy, making a scene in the restaurant. He was about to hit one of my staff, so I stepped in. I got pushed and my head hit the table. This," you pointed to your bandaged arm, "is from some shattered glass."

Mingyu sighed, his jaw tightening in frustration. "I'm calling the police," he said firmly, standing up as if ready to take action immediately.

But you reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him. "It's already been reported. My staff handled it."

Mingyu paused, looking down at you, the worry still clear in his eyes. Though the situation had already been dealt with, his protective instincts were hard to turn off. He sat back down next to you, still holding your hand, as if to reassure himself you were safe now.

Your mother, the vice president, appeared in the emergency room, her presence commanding attention as she quickly made her way toward you. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, though you could see the worry etched in her expression.

"My heart dropped when I heard my daughter was in the emergency room. Are you okay, honey?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as she reached out to touch your arm.

"I'm fine, Mom," you reassured her with a small smile, trying to ease her worry.

Mingyu stood quietly to the side, observing the exchange with a sense of relief. He was glad to see how close you were with your family, something he hadn’t really gotten to witness much before.

Then your mother turned her attention to Mingyu, who stood respectfully behind her. Her gaze softened as she acknowledged him.

"Thank you, Mingyu. I heard you’ve been taking care of my daughter, especially after she lost her apartment in the fire. And now you're here again," she said, her gratitude clear.

Mingyu bowed slightly, feeling the weight of her words. "It's my pleasure, ma'am," he responded with sincerity.

Your mother waved off the formality with a warm smile. "No need for 'ma'am.' Call me Mother. After all, you're part of the family now—my daughter's fiancé."

The words caught Mingyu a little off guard, though he masked it with a polite nod. He glanced at you, noticing the subtle shift in the room. The formality of your engagement suddenly felt a bit more personal, more real.

After spending some more time talking with your mother and assuring her you were okay, the X-ray results came back clear. The doctor recommended rest and monitoring for the next few days to ensure there were no lingering effects from the head injury. With that, Mingyu insisted on taking you home.

As you left the hospital, Mingyu walked by your side, his hand resting gently on your lower back as he guided you to the car. The day had been exhausting, but knowing that Mingyu was there gave you a strange sense of comfort. It was a feeling that was becoming more familiar lately.

The drive home was quiet, with Mingyu occasionally glancing over to check on you. You stared out the window, your mind still processing everything that had happened, from the fire at your apartment to the incident today. You felt the weight of it all, but at the same time, there was a sense of relief that you weren’t alone in dealing with it.

When Mingyu pulled into his apartment complex, he parked the car and quickly came around to your side to help you out. You couldn’t help but smile at how attentive he was.

As you sat on the couch, trying to unwind from the long day, Mingyu hovered nearby, clearly still worried. You noticed his eyes flicking over to you every few minutes, as if checking to make sure you were really okay.

"You really should rest," he said, standing up and grabbing a blanket from the nearby chair. "I can see you're exhausted."

"I’m fine, Mingyu," you protested softly, though you knew you needed the rest.

He walked over, gently draping the blanket over you, his hands lingering for a moment as he looked down at you. “Just lie down, please. Doctor's orders,” he added with a small, teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood.

You sighed, giving in. The exhaustion was catching up with you, and the couch felt more comfortable with the blanket wrapped around you. As you shifted to lie down, Mingyu crouched down beside you, his expression softening as he watched you settle.

"Better?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, pulling the blanket closer. “Yeah, better.”

He lingered for a moment before standing up again, running a hand through his hair. "I think I’ll stay out here with you, just in case you need anything.”

"You don’t have to—" you started to protest, but Mingyu was already grabbing a pillow for himself and setting it on the other end of the couch.

"I know, but I want to," he said simply, lying down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. “We both need to rest anyway. This way, I’ll be right here if anything happens.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, noticing how comfortable and natural he seemed lying next to you. The tension that had been hanging in the air for weeks felt like it was slowly fading, replaced by an unexpected sense of ease.

"Alright," you murmured, closing your eyes.

Mingyu lay there quietly, the soft rise and fall of his breathing the only sound in the room. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence was steady, reassuring in a way that made you feel safe. After a few moments, he shifted slightly closer, his hand brushing against yours under the blanket. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture spoke volumes.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you let the quiet warmth between the two of you settle in, realizing that maybe this arrangement between you wasn’t so bad after all.

As you drifted off to sleep, you could feel Mingyu relax beside you. The weight of the day slowly lifted, and with him lying there next to you, it felt easier to rest.

As evening approached, the soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light over the room. You and Mingyu had both woken up from your nap, feeling more rested but still shaken from the day's events. Mingyu sat up, glancing over at you with a gentle smile.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice still soft but with a hint of concern.

You shook your head, feeling more at ease now. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for staying with me.”

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, I should probably check and clean your wound properly. Just to make sure it’s healing well.”

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded, realizing it would be reassuring to have him take care of you. Mingyu moved to get a first aid kit from the bathroom, then returned and sat next to you on the couch. As he began to carefully clean the wound on your head, his concentration was palpable.

The proximity brought an unexpected intimacy. Mingyu’s breath lightly brushed against your skin, and you could feel the warmth of his body close to yours. You glanced up at him, and for the first time, you noticed how dangerously close his face was to yours. The closeness made both of you acutely aware of each other, and suddenly, your cheeks flushed a soft pink.

There was a moment of shared awkwardness where neither of you knew quite what to say. Mingyu’s fingers brushed lightly against your forehead, and a nervous laugh escaped both of you simultaneously. The sound was light and shy, a clear indicator of the tension and the new feelings stirring between you.

Mingyu’s hands paused as he looked at you, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken emotions. He seemed to be gauging your reaction, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

Without breaking eye contact, Mingyu leaned in slowly, and you felt a rush of anticipation. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to stand still. Then, ever so gently, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and soft, a simple yet profound gesture that spoke volumes.

You responded instinctively, your lips moving against his in a hesitant, exploring dance. The kiss deepened just slightly, filled with a mutual tenderness that neither of you had expected but both seemed to crave. When Mingyu finally pulled back, his expression was a mix of relief and uncertainty.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, a slight blush still visible on his cheeks. “I just... I needed to do that.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to gently touch his face. “It’s okay. I think I needed it too.”

Mingyu’s smile was more relaxed now, a genuine warmth in his eyes. He resumed cleaning the wound with a renewed calm, the previous tension replaced by a new, comforting closeness. As he finished, you both settled back into the couch, the space between you now filled with a quiet, shared understanding.

Mingyu set aside the first aid kit and took a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. “I... I know this might sound sudden, but I think we need to talk about where we go from here.”

You looked at him with curiosity and a hint of apprehension, waiting for him to continue.

He shifted slightly, his expression earnest. “I know our relationship started out as a business arrangement, and things between us have been... different from what I expected. But after spending time with you, especially today, I’ve realized something.”

You watched him closely, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest.

“Mingyu, what is it?” you asked softly.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About how we’ve been living together, how you’ve been there for me in ways I didn’t expect. And honestly, I’ve come to realize that I really like you. More than just as my fiancée. I want to be with you, not just because of our families or the arrangement, but because I genuinely care about you.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity behind them. Mingyu reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I want to start over,” he continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I want us to settle everything that’s happened and move forward. I want to take you out on dates, to spend time with you as someone I truly treasure. Not just because it’s what’s expected, but because it’s what I genuinely want.”

Your heart raced as you listened, his confession a mix of relief and excitement. It was clear that Mingyu wasn’t just fulfilling a duty anymore—he was speaking from the heart.

“I’ve felt the same way,” you admitted, squeezing his hand. “I never expected this arrangement to lead to something real, but it has. I’ve come to care about you a lot, and I’d like to see where this could go, too.”

Mingyu’s face brightened with a hopeful smile. “So, are we starting over then? Taking a chance on something that’s more than just an arrangement?”

You nodded, a smile of your own spreading across your face. “Yes, let’s start over. I’d like that.”

With a sense of newfound clarity and excitement, Mingyu leaned in and kissed you again, this time with a deeper sense of commitment. It was a kiss that promised not just the continuation of an engagement but the beginning of something much more meaningful.

As the evening drew on, you and Mingyu talked more about your hopes and plans for the future, feeling a sense of anticipation and warmth. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but now it was a journey you were both eager to take together, as partners who truly cared for each other.

“Because you’re handsome?” Mingyu chuckled softly, clearly amused by your answer. He had asked you why you accepted the engagement in the first place, and he hadn’t expected your candid response.

“Of course, you’re very handsome and attractive,” you said with a playful glint in your eye. “But beyond that, I didn’t have anyone special, and I didn’t want to go against my parents’ kind intentions, especially when it didn’t harm me.”

“You didn’t go against it?” Mingyu asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

You paused to think before shaking your head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t planning to get married. I was just focused on my business.”

Mingyu nodded thoughtfully. “How about now?”

“What do you mean now?” you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

“Get married,” he clarified. “Do you want to get married?”

It had been three years since the engagement, and throughout that time, you and Mingyu had maintained your commitment to each other. Even though your parents had pushed for a wedding, you both had insisted on getting to know each other better. It was only after a year of engagement that you truly began to enjoy each other’s presence.

“With you?” you asked innocently, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t with me. Do you want to get married to me?”

A scowl formed on your face as you stared at him, your emotions a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Are you proposing?”

Mingyu laughed, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Why? You don’t like it, baby?”

The scowl melted away, replaced by a warm and genuine smile. “I’d love to. I’ve been happy these two years with you. Why not be happy forever?”

Mingyu’s expression softened as he cupped your cheeks gently. “You’re really happy?”

You nodded, your eyes shining with sincerity.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “Then I’m happy too.”

In that moment, it felt as if everything had come full circle. The uncertainty of the past had given way to a future filled with promise, and both of you were ready to embrace it together.

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strange-aeons · 2 months ago

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hi strange i’ve been enjoying yr videos for about four years thank u for giving me giggles for so long. however i am writing as i am not totally sure who else to ask…

my boyfriend had a traumatic pneumothorax last week and about 80% of his right lung collapsed. i don’t really know anything about pneumothorax (although i have learned so much recently lol) aside from hearing you mention it and as such i don’t know how to help him :(

i know it’s a shot in the dark but i was wondering if there are any comforts or ways to alleviate pain you could share? thank you so much strange you are super tough btw to have gone through this several times this Sucks big time

many good wishes to you and your sweet hairless babies in the new year!

If it happened one week ago he’s already gotten through the worst part! I’m assuming he’s still hospitalized with a chest tube in right now??

When I was in that situation it helped a lot having frequent visits from my partner and family. Especially when they brought snacks!!!!!! Hospital meals can be borderline inedible and there’s no way of escaping to the food court when you have a chest tube in (unless you plan to deceive multiple nurses and risk life threatening infection through the OPEN HOLE IN YOUR CHEST. Don’t do that).

Good food can be a relief in an otherwise horrible time, so finding out what he really wants to eat and brining it will definitely help. If he has no appetite then things like smoothies or drinkable soup can be very helpful. I often live off booster juice and Tim Hortona chicken noodle soup when hospitalized.

Finding the right media to keep sane is also very important!!! Your sleep schedule disintegrates entirely when laying on your back full of tube for multiple days. 2AM listening to alarms go off and 6AM getting woken up for x-rays and 1pm having the lunch slop delivered and 3pm being woken up for x-rays and 9pm visit from your surgeon all become basically indistinguishable, especially if you have no windows. Podcasts were ideal for me because it can be very hard to find a comfortable position with a chest tube / pneumothorax and looking at a screen was often too much of a hassle. Queer as fact and fall of civilizations are both excellent if you want non fiction btw. Old gods of Appalachia or welcome to nightvale if you want fiction.

There’s not a lot that you as a loved one can do about his physical pain, but I will share some of my pneumothorax expertise with you and anyone else who might go through this.

There’s no nerve endings in the lungs so all the pain/ discomfort related to a pneumothorax has to do with pressure in the chest cavity.

The pain is the absolute worst when your lung is actively collapsing so when that feeling starts SHOVE SOME EXTRA STRENGTH ADVIL OR TYLENOL DOWN YOUR THROAT, then lay down and wait for it to finish collapsing. It may seem tempting to rush to the hospital as fast as possible (or rush your loved one who’s lung is collapsing to the hospital) but trust me the last thing you want to do with a lung that is actively deflating like a sad balloon is exert yourself (this is how I collapsed my lung the full 100% and could not move my upper body for an hour. Quirky). Give it at least 30 minutes of floor time before you try to move. You will have a way better time getting to the hospital.

Wait sorry I lied lung re-inflation hurts sometimes more than the initial collapse. The sometimes are the times when ER nurses do not know how to do it properly. Immediately after they put the chest tube in, they attach it to a suction machine to suck out the excess air in your chest cavity. I do not know if these machines are the same internationally (I’m Canadian) but if you’re dealing with one where the settings are percentages, the one you want is 20% suction. NOT 100%!!! that just causes unnecessary excruciating pain without being more effective. I have had to fight numerous nurses while in the worst pain of my life to TURN THE PAIN MACHINE DOWN. fuck the pain machine. Anyway. After the pain machine they leave the tube in for a few more days to make sure the lung stays inflated. Nearing the end of that process, most of the discomfort is caused by the tube itself, so as horrible disgusting the worst getting that thing ripped out is, just know you will feel so much better after.

Throughout the healing process (and in the case of small pneumothoraxes not requiring chest tubes — I’ve had over 10 of those ones) I’ve noticed that heightened discomfort lasting a few minutes results from going from laying down to standing up or vice verse, or from bending over. This is why I have pioneered the sophisticated technique know as the pneumothorax squat. It is just as cool and hot as you’re imagining.

This post was supposed to be about how to support a loved one with a pneumothorax what the heck am I even talking about now.

Most of what he’s going to need will seem boring or insignificant. Companionship. Food. Medication. Toiletries. COMPANIONSHIP. podcast recommendations. But it absolutely is not insignificant. Abruptly losing mobility, independence, and bodily autonomy as a young person is really fucked up and I cannot fathom doing it without my family and my partner, even if most days that consisted of talking to me and bringing me smoothies and underwear.

Wishing a quick recovery to your boyfriend! Good luck with everything!!

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palskippah · 10 months ago

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Hi! I give you this Stobotnik fankid I made a while ago :'y

She's Sofia --or Ivania or some other name ending in 'ia'-- Robotnik (coolest last name)

It's a compilation and also there's some Stone for practice bc I have no idea how to draw him pipipi Eggman is easier bc it's just his Sonic Boom design (I love it)

Some stuff about this universe under the cut!

(Btw if there's incongruencies is bc I can't make up my mind about the facts whwhw)

-Robotnik and Stone are married, very much married. Cartoon villains in love, I love that for them.

-["MARTHA I'M COMING HOME SWEETIE-"] Mixing up the movie things and the whatever's going on in the Sonic Boom, so Robotnik was gone for eight months and when he's back she's already born.

>Also the drawing is a reference to Icarly's "Whatcha got there?" "A smoothie" but she was clearly asking about the ostrich Spencer brought with him.

>Alternatively, Eggman's there and they go through the journey together yippiee. Choosing names, making evil parenting plans and whatever, being their idiot selves.

(After celebrating because they're good news actually) "I want a boy or a girl-" (Eggman) "Yeah me too." (Stone) "-and we should name them a single, worth of remembering name! Like... Eggette for a girl and Eggson for a boy." "I'm not letting you name them any of that, doctor..." "Okay, then how about Beyonce for a girl and-"

>They wouldn't have kids (?? maybe? I don't really know, I only know sonic boom and the movie :'U)- but she was probably the 1% the birth control warns you about. Also, Stobotnik got a very active seggsual life, and I'm imagining she came to be from a quickie over the desk, why not.

>Helpful diagram of Eggman + Stone kissing and then = baby. They were in work hours.

-In the one where he comes back and the baby's already there, Eggman does a terrible job as a father the few first months, but then he gets the hang of it and it's not so bad.

>He gets projectile vomited on and he's immediately asking to get an abortion (the baby's already born) (he didn't give birth to her), Stone says no anyways.

>"Surprisingly, I'm a good father" he thinks one day and it's because he's still very much an orphan here with no frame of comparation or example aside from researching the matter.

-In the one where they wait for her together, he does all the research necessary in all those months, absolutely refusing in doing an average job in that matter, he's the great Ivo Robotnik c'mon. He excels at anything and he'll be a great father (jk he's terrified of fucking up).

-The Stobotnik family is an evil but loving family, like the bears in Puss in Boots whwh criminal family✨

-For the funny of it, Sonic and Eggman got a sort of relationship like in Sonic Boom, so sometime maybe our favorite boy, Tails and Knuckles had to look after their child.

-Also since Knuckles broke Stone's and Robotnik's hands with their handshake, let's have him handle the baby with the most careful grip ever, just to demonstrate that he didn't have to grab their hands that hard aksdjask

-She's a big fan of Sonic and friends (Sonic the Hedgehog, not Sonic Wachowski, the second guy hadn't done even half the things she admires him for, but no one has the heart to tell her when she's a kid). Has a bunch of merch and all the comics of Sonic the Hedgehog.

>When she's a teenager she proudly uses her Sonic backpack in the same way Deadpool uses his Hello Kitty backpack.

-BTW Sonic, Knuckles and Tails are all brothers and Maddie and Tom's kids bc that's the best idea ever made.

-ALSO I'm definitely gonna draw that scene where Knuckles was about to put the baby in the blender and Sonic shouts THE CHILI DOG NOT THE BABY. Some day, you'll see pipipi.

-SAGE was created for various reasons, to be her sister (since she wouldn't stop asking for one but neither Stone nor Robotnik were willing in raising another human kid, thanks very much), to protect her, and also to answer the tedious "why?" questions that neither father had the patience for (A+ parenting right there). Maybe she was used for the original purpose too idk (I don't know that sonic game where she debuts).

>The child's delighted about having a sister, then she grows up and SAGE doesn't, so she has a little sister.

>METAL SONIC TOO MAYBE? Perfect lil american family, the two happily married parents and their three kids (one human girl, an IA and a robot clone of their alien enemy).

-On her early months she was called Pebble, because she really was a mini Stone, Robotnik went along with it (bc he also looked at her and only saw his husband whw) until she was a little older and they started calling her by her name.

>Alternatively, since Eggman was gone, Stone waited for him to return in hopes of choosing together a name for their child, and Pebble worked as a placeholder since she was just a bebi.

>Alternatively alternatively, Eggman came up with the nickname. ROCK-ONNAISSANCE 🗣️ also yeah I know he was going crazy from the mushroom stuff, but he's not above making silly puns, he's a dad now and also he's naturally silly.

(NGL I really gotta make up my mind about how it all happened ajsdkad)

-She's a spoiled kid and also a little menace, unintentionally evil, she can't help it.

>Good-hearted too sometimes, she loves Sage and does her best to protect her back (it's not necessary but it's appreciated anyways).

-Robotnik calls himself 'daddy' way too much in the live-action movies to ignore it, so he's daddy and Stone's dad (dada when she was younger).

>"These are my daddies!" (points to what's clearly two villains -but also good fathers-)

-She has Robotnik's eyes but as big as Stone's. They're the lethal-est sad puppy eyes ever (they work wonders on both parents and other people) (both men got beautiful dark brown eyes with visible eyelashes fight me).

>Look at Eggman's silly eyelashes:

>Also, you know that picture of Lee Majdoub with the beautiful everything? I think he was wearing eyeliner so my Stone wears eyeliner too in contrast to Eggman's dark circles under his eyes JDJS😭

-She's the five-year-old that made Sonic fear them because 'they can be so cruel when they sense weakness' (she was brutally honest as any young kid is).

-Stone and Robotnik got Gomez and Morticia Addams kinda parenting. They see their child beating up someone and they're like:

"What did we do wrong?" (Stone while shaking his head in disappointment) "I know... she lacks resourcefulness." (Eggman) "Exactly, there's her baseball bat right there, why doesn't she use it?"

-Remember that Shadow said in a game that he wouldn't mind taking a candy from a baby? (fandub I think but still) This comes in handy when neither Tails, Sonic or Knuckles want to upset the kid (so Shadow does it instead).

-She plays sports too because she got too much energy. In each of them she loses her patience. She grabs the football and hauls it at the nearest team member, she throws her baseball bat to the ground and starts beating up whoever threw the ball that she missed, she stomps in frustration if she loses, she's great at dodgeball (sends her classmates to the infirmary).

-Throws tantrums and stuff and overall's an annoying kid if she's upset. Eggman's like UGH WHY'S SHE LIKE THIS?? and Stone's like Because of you, doctor (terrible temperament runs in the family and also Robotnik just spoiled her too much).

-I'm kinda dressing her up in the clothes that existed in my mind that supposedly Eggman wore (the weird dress-like jacket with the big zipper in the middle). Under her jacket there's a dress in the same pattern as the original Eggman's clothes, also she wears a baby onesie like that too.

-When she's older she's definitely proud of her fathers, but she doesn't appreciate the rumors that she's prone to go power-crazy like Robotnik did. Especially because it may be true, but what do they know.

-For the irony, she can't stand drinking coffee, but loves the smell of it because it reminds her of home (omg).

-THEY HAVE A PET CAT like I read in some fics and her name is Robot and she's a lil shit and also grumpy like Robotnik.

>Maybe she brings her alive mice to experiment on all sort of stuff (like Pávlov and his dogs and the guy Skinner with his mice and cats (??))

-She gets to hang out with Sonic and friends under the condition of annoying him as much as possible. So, she complies. (She loves Sonic the Hedgehog, but she loves making her fathers happy more).

-Very smart kid but not to the level of Tails or Robotnik at that age, she's just got very good memory and learning skills and knows a lot of stuff ever since she was a little kid. More like a Matilda-kinda intelligence.

-She's a scientist when she grows up too but the kind that makes evil potions and serums and stuff aksjdk probably (chemistry things? biochem idk). She can make silly little robots for the fun of it but it's not her passion, unlike Robotnik and Stone's. PROBABLY. I'm still deciding.

-BTW LOOK (it says 'carefully crafted ploy to distract space porcupines')

>While Eggman's there with the baby and Sonic in front of him going AWWW BABY BOO and making her laugh, Stone is sneaking up on him holding a chair above his head to knock him out.

THAT'S IT THANKS FOR READING ✨✨

#sonic the hedgehog #my art #agent stone #doctor eggman #ivo robotnik #aban stone #coolest fanmade name #stobotnik #I'm so normal about my fanbabies #Ivania Robotnik is too obvious but also why not #Sofia Robotnik sounds cool tho #fankids #I gave up on coloring everything sorry #SONIC BOOM EGGMAN MY HUSBAND 🗣️🗣️🗣️#When I was a kid I watched that show just for him whwhw #pls pls pls receive this well i want to draw these villains in love more #eggman being in love with stone is my favorite thing in fics #he loves in such a weird way but it's okay Stone loves it

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myladybelle · 6 months ago

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𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter thirteen

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.7k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, descriptions of anxiety, swearing, use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hi my loves i’m back!! thank you all for your patience while i was sick and preparing for the new semester, i appreciate all your kind messages so much x 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐖𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒’ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 – 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟑, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

“Newcomer on the professional tennis scene, Y/N Y/L/N surprised virtually everyone when she won the Ladies’ Semi Final two days ago,” an English-accented sports journalist said on TV as you waited for your cue to step onto the court for the finals. “She’s not only the most technically excellent player of her age, but she has the fastest serve on the WTA tour.”

“She’s a remarkable player,” the other journalist agreed. You watched them play back a clip from your most recent match, highlighting one of your aces. “But if she wants to win on Centre Court here at Wimbledon for the very first time, she’s going to have to start embracing her volleys. Maybe she should take a leaf out of her boyfriend’s book.”

“Patrick Zweig? He only made it to the second round!”

“Yes, but he played some very entertaining tennis this week. It was a joy to watch and very well suited to a grass court!”

“It’s true, Zweig plays a sneaky game of tennis. He keeps his opponent on his feet.”

“In any case, the whole world is sure to be watching Y/N Y/L/N tonight, eager to see her take on Anna Mueller.”

“Now, this isn’t the first time Y/L/N and Mueller have played. They faced off numerous times in junior tournaments, and Y/L/N already beat her at Indian Wells, Milan, Roland-Garros, and the US Open last year. They have yet to play each other in a final, though, and Y/L/N has no grand slam titles to Mueller’s two.”

“Will it be experience and longevity that give Mueller the win, or will new talent Y/L/N take the match with precision and speed?”

“We will soon see.”

You had never been this nervous before a match until your second time at Wimbledon.

For the first time in your professional career, just a year and a half after entering the tennis world, you made it to the final round of a grand slam tournament. The other tournaments you had won within the last year put your name on the map, allowing you to garner attention and recognition from your peers and spectators.

But a grand slam title meant you would be a part of history.

It was everything you wanted, everything you worked and struggled for. Your heart pounded so quickly that you thought it might leap out of your skin, and your quickening breath made spots appear in your vision. The pressure mounted, not just because your life goal was an arm’s length away, but from all the people who had their eyes on you. Some scrutinising, some rooting for you.

Bracing your hands on your thighs, you closed your eyes and tried to breathe deeply. It felt like you were losing control. Everything you did to maintain your anxiety felt like it was slipping through your fingers, just like your dream of becoming a grand slam winner.

Tashi’s voice rang in your ears. You’re going to be fucking miserable, and you’re going to hate your life just as much as your mother hates the fact that she had you. Art’s voice joined Tashi. Everyone knows that tennis is more of a mental game than a physical game. You have a lot of anxiety, and…

The sound of your phone getting a text message interrupted your tornado of negative thoughts.

PAT 💞: Don’t listen to any of those assholes, they don’t matter. I love you so much and I’m proud of you no matter what happens today. Hold your head up high and do your best, nothing else matters. Don’t forget to breathe, pretty girl. P x

As you stepped onto the court, the cheers of the crowd were deafening. You could feel the vibrations of their applause through the soles of your shoes; the energy was electric, and the buzzing of quiet chatter set you on edge. Remembering Patrick’s advice, you breathed deeply and waved to the crowd, smiling as you headed for your bench. Everyone on your team was sitting in the player’s box with Patrick and your dad, and it was a relief to see them there supporting you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this final round match. This match will be played as the best of three sets,” the umpire said. “To the left of the chair, from Switzerland, Anna Mueller. To the right of the chair, from the United States, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/L/N won the toss and elected to serve.”

From his seat in your box, Patrick chuckled. “I bet Anna Mueller’s terrified right now,” he commented. “Going into a match against Y/N and having her serve first would push me over the edge if I was playing her.”

Next to Patrick, your father happily declared, “If Mueller wasn’t nervous to play Y/N before, she will be once she realises how many aces she has up her sleeve.”

Mueller crouched behind the baseline, nervously twirling her racket between her hands. Her poker face wasn’t nearly as good as yours, betraying her fear as you bounced the ball and prepared to serve. Knowing that you had this effect on your opponent, even before the game had started, made you feel powerful.

With a mixture of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins, you tossed the ball in the air and served it over the tennis net. Mueller ran in the wrong direction, expecting you to serve to her backhand, and cursed when she couldn’t change courses fast enough to return the ball.

Your first ace of the game. 15-love.

Mueller played nervously. She knew your baseline game was strong, but her mistake was assuming that you could only play from the baseline. You decided to play closer to the net, consistently hitting gently when Mueller expected you to go hard and fast, making it impossible for her to generate the power needed to return well.

When you took the first set 6-0, Mueller cursed and turned to her box to yell something at her coach. During the changeover, you could hear her muttering to herself, failing to compose her posture and expression. She looked panicked and angry. From experience, you knew that the right amount of anxiety could help you focus on the match, but anger would destroy a player’s self-control and concentration.

When you served an ace at the beginning of the next set, Mueller stomped her foot angrily and challenged the call. The call held up, declaring your serve was in and awarding you the point. You watched in shock as Mueller’s face twisted with fury, her eyes blazing as she smashed her racket against the ground. Over and over again, the crowd gasped and booed as the frame cracked and the strings bent out of shape.

“Code violation, racket abuse. Warning, Mueller.”

From his seat, Patrick smirked, applauding the action while you maintained professionalism. He was the type of player who occasionally broke his racket or committed other code violations, so Patrick admired your ability to hold back. There was something rewarding about watching your opponent fall apart as you waited for her to get it together so you could keep playing.

The atmosphere of the game changed after Mueller’s outburst. Releasing her anger had done Mueller well, and one of her backhands shot forth like a lightning bolt, making it impossible for you to return. She got a few points in, making you run for it. Sweat glistened on your brows, and your heart pounded, a steady drum beat that echoed the rhythm of your feet as you struggled to return some of Mueller’s balls. The crowd watched in awe as she started finding her rhythm, pushing through the fatigue with a newfound unwavering focus.

Mueller looked incredibly smug to have caught up with you. So, you let her win a little bit.

Your father frowned when you served into the net twice, giving Mueller the point. “What’s she doing?” he muttered quietly. “Are the nerves getting to her?”

Patrick shook his head, chuckling as he realised, “She’s throwing the set on purpose.” A smirk graced his lips when he remembered how you used to do the same thing when you played Tashi. “She wants Mueller to think she’s beating her.”

You let yourself enjoy it, toying with Mueller and never letting her know what you planned next. When you volleyed the ball back to her, she sprinted to the net. Just when she got used to playing close to the net, you hit a flat groundstroke past her. Once Mueller realised your pattern, she stayed closer to the baseline, and you hit her with your drop shots, far too close to the net for her to return.

Quickly, you caught up, 7-7. You needed one last game to win the match, and it was your turn to serve.

Two aces in a row. Mueller yelled in frustration and anger when she missed both serves, once to her forehand and once to her backhand. Your focus sharpened with each passing moment. Serving was your area of expertise. You had the match exactly where you wanted it.

With each point you won, your confidence grew. Your movements were fluid and instinctive; your racket felt like an extension of your arm, sending powerful, precise shots that left Mueller scrambling to return them. Like always, your serves were lightning fast, unerring and spectacular, kissing the line every time without fail.

Mueller chased down every ball, but exhaustion was setting in, and her anger had returned. She was irritated that you had let her win, annoyed that it had boosted her ego so much, and furious that she couldn’t get in your head the way you got in hers.

You were playing the best tennis of your life, each moment a testament to your skill and resilience over the years. The beauty of your game captivated the spectators, leaving the crowd in awe of your mesmerising strokes and masterful returns. The more points you won, the closer you got to winning the tournament. Tension and excitement were palpable, mounting in a crescendo of enthusiastic applause and standing ovations.

“Match point.”

The cacophony of cheers faded into the background as you bounced the ball in your hand. You were good at keeping the pressure of winning off your shoulders, but the enormity of this point pressed down on you heavily. With your stomach in knots, you adjusted your grip on your tennis racket. Amid all the stress, anxiety, and fear, you felt a spark of determination.

You didn’t just want to win; you deserved it.

You served her backhand, which Mueller anticipated and hit back with equal intensity. The ball hit the ground awkwardly on your side of the net, creating minimal bounce with little power. Regardless, you hit it hard. As the two of you rallied back and forth, you followed the sports journalist from earlier’s advice and used a trick shot Patrick had taught you. When Mueller hit your forehand, you pretended to miss the ball. She celebrated, prematurely stopping while you hit the ball back between your legs, surprising Mueller and making her trip as she tried to return the ball.

As Mueller landed on the floor, the ball bounced on her side of the net for a second time, earning you the point and the Wimbledon Ladies’ Singles title.

An overwhelming surge of triumph and disbelief hit you all at once. Your ears rang, drowning out the cacophony of the crowd’s ecstatic roars as you collapsed to your knees, dropping your racket. The weight of victory crashed upon you, and tears streamed down your face as you sobbed. Each teardrop released the intense pressure and emotion you had carried through the gruelling tournament.

You cried for your mother, who you no longer needed to please; for Tashi, your former best friend who would not be here to celebrate this moment with you; and you cried for yourself, the person who got through it all and made it to the other side.

When you wiped the tears from your cheeks and stood to shake your opponent’s hand, the world around you blurred back into focus. The cheers and applause of the crowd went from being a distant echo to a deafening roar. Mueller barely touched your hand before going to shake the umpire’s and—for a brief, solitary moment—you were enveloped by a profound sense of accomplishment.

You did it.

After waving to the crowd and thanking the umpire, you turned to your player’s box. There, Patrick stood applauding your victory. His heart swelled with immeasurable pride and love for you, feeling an overwhelming admiration for your strength and dedication. You laughed, running across the court towards the box and excusing yourself as you squeezed past ball boys and line judges. Stepping up on one of the nearby benches, you lifted yourself closer to your boyfriend, who leaned over the railing, giggling.

Up close, Patrick’s eyes were misty, and a broad, genuine smile spread across his face. Every sacrifice you made, every early morning and late night, came rushing back to him in a flood of memories. He could hardly contain his excitement.

“You just fucking won Wimbledon!” Patrick yelled. “You were incredible!”

“I love you,” you replied, equally breathless and giddy. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Pat.”

Pushing up on your toes, you hooked your arms around Patrick’s shoulders and kissed him. The crowd cheered even louder around you, but you didn’t care. Nothing and nobody else mattered at that moment. All you knew was that you had just achieved something incredible and Patrick was the only person you wanted to celebrate it with. He held your head carefully and kissed you hard, expressing his passionate pride with every press of his lips.

“Thank you. For reminding me to breathe,” you acknowledged when you parted, gazing up at your boyfriend with sparkling eyes. “And for teaching me your favourite trick shot.”

Patrick chuckled, taking one of your hands and pressing several kisses to the back of it. “That was all you, gorgeous. I had nothing to do with it. This win belongs to you,” he said sincerely. “Fuck, I love you, pretty girl.”

Art Donaldson stood in the crowd, his heart heavy with pride and melancholy as he watched you give Patrick a final kiss before returning to the court for your interview. It was a privilege to watch every powerful swing of your racket and every point you earned. Art was reminded of the countless hours you had poured into your practice, the determination that had always driven you while you were at Stanford. He had once been the one to share in those moments of victory with you, celebrating every win with the joy you now showed on the court.

But now, as Art saw the happiness in your eyes and heard the crowd’s cheers, a wave of sadness washed over him. He was no longer part of your triumphs. He was just another face in the sea of supporters, knowing your victory wouldn’t be shared with him.

Art’s gaze flickered between you standing on the court and Patrick sitting with your father in the player’s box. His former best friend looked happier than Art had ever seen him, and knowing that your memory of this day would always be intertwined with your relationship with Patrick filled Art with an ugly jealousy.

He knew he had no right to your life and joy, but Art wanted to celebrate with you. He wanted to tell you that he was proud of you and always knew you had the talent and perseverance to succeed. In fact, there were a lot of things Art wanted to say, including a sincere apology for what he said the night you broke up. But you had moved on, and you were happy, and the last thing Art wanted to do was ruin any of that for you.

So instead, Art got up and pushed through the crowd, making his way to the exit as he heard your voice thanking Patrick for his love and support over the loudspeakers.

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 – 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟏𝟑, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

It felt good.

Sitting in the booth with Tashi was almost like when Art used to sit in the dining hall with her at Stanford, back when you, Art, and Tashi were all attached at the hip.

A month ago, Art and Tashi graduated and began working in the professional tennis world, but it meant nothing to either of them without their best friends by their sides. Neither of them could have guessed that you and Patrick would leave behind such a huge hole when you stopped being friends with them.

“Maybe you wanna jump ship?” Art said, half-joking as he signed the bill and paid for their meal. “Come be my assistant coach?” When Tashi stared dumbfoundedly at him, he grinned. “Oh, I get it. You want to work with someone who has a little bit more potential.”

“No!” Tashi protested. “No. No, it’s not that. I mean, you have plenty of potential. It’s just–” she cut herself off, nervously observing the blond sitting in front of her. It had been years since you and Art broke up, but it felt like yesterday. “You think that would be a good idea?”

“Why not?” Art retorted. Tashi gestured vaguely, referencing their complex shared past. “That was a long time ago–”

“–It was not that long ago,” she disagreed, interrupting Art’s attempt at nonchalance.

“Well, it feels like a long time ago,” Art mumbled.

“So, you’re saying you’re not in love with her anymore?” Tashi argued, raising a questioning eyebrow at her old friend.

Art schooled his expression, not wanting to give his lingering emotions away. But Tashi saw through it, recognising the familiar signs that indicated his love for you still ran deep. His features softened at the mention of you, and there was a faraway look in his icy blue eyes.

Back when you were dating Art—and Tashi and Patrick were casually seeing each other—Patrick used to describe the look on his best friend’s face when he first laid eyes on you. That look of pure, absolute adoration and love never once faded from Art’s face at the mention or sight of you. Tashi knew with certainty that it would never fade.

“Well, I’m not holding my breath waiting for her,” Art retorted. “That ship has clearly sailed.”

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t clutching the hull for dear life,” Tashi remarked, using Art’s ship analogy against him. “Did you see her at Wimbledon?”

“Of course I did,” Art replied, fiddling anxiously with the napkin on the table.

“She was incredible, wasn’t she? I mean, I always knew she had it in her, but watching her win that final…” Tashi sighed.

If she was as good a friend to you as she always thought, she would have noticed that you used to hold back to help Tashi pursue her dreams of being the best tennis player in the world. Upon reflection, Tashi realised she would never be as good a friend to you as you were to her, and she should never have considered you to be less talented, hard-working, or capable than herself.

“It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Tashi said proudly.

Art agreed, “She’s officially a grand slam winner, the whole world was watching her that day.”

Tashi nodded. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” Her lips curved in a disappointed frown, recalling all the times you and Tashi promised you would always be there to celebrate each others’ accomplishments when you were teenagers. “All of a sudden, the whole world feels entitled to a part of her. Instead of going through this journey with her, we’re on the outside looking in, just like everybody else.”

“It was pretty surreal,” Art affirmed. “I mean, I always knew what she was capable of. I remember all those late nights, talking about what she would do if she ever won a grand slam. And now that she has, I can’t help but feel a little lost.”

“Like you should be there with her,” Tashi guessed. She gave Art a sympathetic smile, her eyes soft with understanding. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Art sighed, leaning back in his booth. “We used to be the people who knew her best in the world,” he recalled. “And now, we aren’t a part of her life anymore. It’s not just about tennis or success, it’s about her. She didn’t just hold us all together, she was seeped into the essence of everything I did and everything I dreamed.” The vulnerable honesty in Art’s voice made Tashi swallow harshly. “What am I supposed to do without her now? None of my plans ever accounted for me reaching this point in my life without her in it.”

Art’s words rendered them both silent.

You used to take up so much space in their lives, filling a void neither of them knew existed until you left them. Thinking about you and reflecting on your absence was always bittersweet. There was so much warmth and joy in their memories of you, but they were constantly paired with painful reminders of how much they hurt you. You, who only ever wanted to love and be loved.

“Maybe this is what we deserve for hurting her in the first place,” Tashi offered. “The things I said to her that day–” she inhaled sharply, pain filling her chest as she recalled the argument that ended your friendship– “I don’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with me.”

“The look on her face when I told her I went to see you the night you fought…” Art shook his head in disappointment, his jaw clenched tightly as the frustration simmered beneath the surface. “I should have told her I went to confront you for hurting her. I should have told her I was desperate to figure out why she was inconsolable, but I let her believe I went to you because I was on your side. I was so angry and frustrated during the break up that I told her things just because I knew they would hurt her. Who does that to someone they love?”

“Us, apparently,” Tashi said, grumbling like she couldn’t believe what they did to you. Reaching across the table, Tashi covered Art’s hand with hers, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “My mom says that Y/N was my life lesson,” she explained. “That losing her was supposed to teach me something.”

“Yeah?” Art met her eyes and frowned. “What did it teach you?”

“To hold on,” Tashi declared. “When you meet someone like her, someone who’s warm and loving and far kinder to you than you deserve, you hold on to her. Because going through life without her is unimaginably worse than when she’s by your side.”

It hurt to reflect on how much worse life was without you. You had been everything to Art for so long, and his eyes stung with tears every time he thought of you. The emptiness you left behind felt insurmountable, a constant ache he couldn’t escape. Every moment without you reminded him of what he’d lost, of how your presence had once filled his world with light and purpose.

Now, that light was gone, leaving him to navigate the shadows of what used to be; the pain of your absence was a relentless companion.

Art pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, staring at his lap. “This is really stupid, but, uh… After your injury… I couldn’t help but just think about what would have happened if I had beaten Patrick,” he confessed.

Tashi froze at the mention of how you met Art and Patrick.

She knew Art well enough to understand that everything he did led back to you and how he lost you. No matter how badly Art wanted to change the past, Tashi knew you would always love him and Patrick throughout your life.

In a way, Tashi, Art, and Patrick were the three great loves of your life.

One for a friendship that was supposed to last a lifetime, one for the boy who made you realise what it was like to be loved, and one for the man who would wait a lifetime just for a minute of happiness with you.

No matter how much you once loved Art, Tashi knew you would love Patrick in every life, too. It didn’t matter what order you met them in; you were the catalyst that changed each of their lives.

Tashi thought she was the only objective spectator to your relationships with Art and Patrick. She was your best friend at Stanford when you dated Art, and she was practically a stranger now that you were with Patrick. Watching your romantic relationship unfold on TV and in newspapers and magazines was entirely different from having a front-row seat back in college, but Tashi knew you well enough to see how deeply and genuinely you loved Patrick, just as you had loved Art.

“So you want me to join your team because you couldn’t win Y/N’s number that day?”

Art lifted his head to meet Tashi’s gaze. “No,” he denied. “I want you to join my team because I want to win.”

Tashi suppressed a grin. She should have known that if it wasn’t about you, it was about Patrick. “I think you’d beat him now if you guys played,” she commented, sipping her coffee. “Don’t you think?”

It was a challenge that Tashi knew Art would easily see through.

Perhaps Art could beat Patrick if their history wasn’t complicated by you entering their lives. If the two of them were just best friends trying to make it in the tennis world, Art had the skills, practice, and tenacity to win now. After all, he had dedicated himself to the sport at Stanford and had an excellent team supporting him, while Patrick continued to rely on raw talent. As Art steadily climbed the ranks with every game, Patrick floundered somewhere in the lower 200s.

But all of this was negated by one simple fact. Patrick had the one thing that Art truly wanted: you.

If Art and Patrick played a match tomorrow, you would be in Patrick’s player box, cheering his name and applauding his wins. Your presence at the match—and in Patrick’s life—would be more than enough for Art to lose every time he faced his former best friend, just as he lost you. The only thing that could give Art a chance to beat Patrick would be having you on his side.

“Don’t know,” Art replied cryptically. “We, uh… haven’t played professionally, and don’t keep in touch.” Tashi laughed, nearly choking on her coffee. “What?”

She cleared her throat. “Just… She never saw it,” Tashi explained. “The rivalry between you and Patrick. Ever since that night we first met, she always assumed the two of you were after me.” She shook her head, visibly entertained. “She used to say that I was the sun and she was the moon. But, God, wasn’t she just everything? The moon and the stars and everything in between, that was her.” Tashi and Art shared a soft, sentimental expression. “I never understood why she couldn’t see it. Everything was over the moment you and Patrick met her, and I knew none of us would ever be the same.”

A small smile stretched across Art’s lips. “Yeah…”

Tashi was right—you had been everything to him.

Art felt it the moment his eyes first met yours, an instant connection that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if something within him recognised you, a deep and undeniable pull that resonated in both his body and heart. It wasn’t just about your smile or how you moved; it was how your presence seemed to complete something in him, filling a void he hadn’t even known existed.

You became his anchor, the one person who made everything else make sense, and from that moment on, he knew his life would never be the same without you.

“We joked that we weren’t homewreckers the night we met you, but…” Tashi trailed off, sighing as she set her mug on the table and crossed her arms. “I never thought it would come between me and her. I always thought I was a better friend than that. And I hate it, but running into you today is the closest I’ve felt to her in years,” she confessed.

Sitting there opposite your former best friend, Art couldn’t help but agree. So many parts of you lived on in Tashi, remnants of your lifelong friendship that had shaped both of you in ways he could now see clearly. The way she tilted her head when deep in thought mirrored your own, a habit you’d both picked up during your countless late-night conversations. That amused, all-knowing expression on Tashi’s face when Art tried to lie to her was uncannily similar to yours.

Even her choice of words, the little phrases and inside jokes that only you two shared, brought you vividly to life at that moment, making it feel like a part of you was still there, sitting right across from Art.

“Yeah, me too,” Art agreed, trying to keep the sudden gust of sadness out of his tone.

To make matters worse, seeing Tashi was the closest Art had felt to you and Patrick in a very long time.

It brought back memories of his former best friend, who had once been his world. There was a time when the four of you felt inseparable, and now, sitting there, Art could almost hear the echoes of those days. The way Tashi absentmindedly rubbed her forearm was like Patrick used to, a nervous habit that always surfaced during serious conversations. Tashi’s honest recount of how much she missed you felt like a mirror image of how much Art missed Patrick. Being with Tashi now, it was impossible not to feel the empty space left by the absence of the friendships that had once defined them both.

That night, as Tashi stepped into Art’s hotel room, the invisible string that still bound them both to you seemed to tighten, pulling them a little closer to where you slept just a few floors away.

𝟐 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 – 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟖, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟎

“I just got off the phone with Elora,” you declared, stepping into your shared hotel room with Patrick and finding your boyfriend lounging on the bed with the TV on. “I’ve been asked to play an exhibition match tomorrow. Just something quick and fun before the first round to boost ticket sales for the qualifiers. A bunch of American players from the tour will be there.”

You dropped onto the bed beside Patrick, kicking off your shoes and curling up in his awaiting arms. The two of you had been travelling together for over a year, sharing rooms while on tour and cohabitating in every aspect of your lives. It was like a reward after enduring a long-distance relationship during your final year at Stanford. Instead of just talking on the phone and occasionally getting surprise visits from Patrick, you went everywhere together and supported each other at every match and tournament you attended.

The two of you had slipped into an easy routine. Having the same profession meant that you were constantly going to the same places, and it made travelling and sightseeing so much more special. After working hard for over two weeks at each tournament, exploring new cities with Patrick was the ideal way to wind down and relax. There was something incredibly special and romantic about doing every day of your life with him.

Your relationship had been grabbing headlines ever since the press caught on to the fact that you were together over a year ago, but the attention ramped up exponentially after you won Wimbledon.

What used to be short articles about an up-and-coming, attractive couple in the tennis world had snowballed into detailed timelines of your dates and public appearances with Patrick. Luckily, the public adored you, and there was very little criticism or negativity surrounding your relationship. Other players on the WTA and ATP tour often teased you about being real celebrities, pointing out how rare it was to win public favour as much as you and Patrick did.

Even though this shift was odd, and you had yet to get used to the constant eyes on you, there were perks to having your picture taken professionally every time you went on a date with your boyfriend. You had framed your favourite newspaper clipping, a beautiful picture of you kissing Patrick after winning Wimbledon, with the heading The Darlings of the Tennis World written above it in a large, bold font.

“Great,” Patrick drawled, blinking lazily as he wrapped his arms around you. His hands gravitated under your shirt to draw circles on the bare skin of your midriff, immediately sending butterflies to your stomach. “Which unlucky girl’s getting her ass handed to her while you beat her in straight sets?” he joked, knowing any match you played would end in a crushing defeat for the other player.

“Actually…” you trailed off, sending him your best smile as Patrick drew his head back to meet your gaze.

He observed your innocent expression with quizzical, unsure eyes. Even though you were giving him your sweetest look, there was something mischievous about the glint in your eyes. When realisation hit him, Patrick sighed and said, “I’m the unlucky girl, aren’t I?” His distraught tone made laughter bubble from your lips.

“Smart and handsome? I really hit the jackpot,” you teased, buttering him up with compliments so that he would agree more readily. “Come on, Pat, it’ll be fun!”

“Oh yeah, really fun!” Patrick agreed sarcastically, matching your energetic tone. “Like how a lion treats a lamb during slaughter!”

You rolled your eyes, stifling your laughter at your boyfriend’s dramatics. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll go easy on you,” you said, imitating his voice and tone. He had never used those exact words about playing tennis, but Patrick’s tone was always thick with the same arrogant confidence. “Think about it! If you play against me, you’ll get to see that winning serve of mine up close and personal.”

“Excuse me, I’ve been on the opposing end of your winning serve plenty of times during practice,” Patrick defended. “I always knew you were better than me, gorgeous, but I don’t remember agreeing to public humiliation when we started dating!”

“Drama queen,” you accused. “It really will be fun! We’ll be mic’d up and we can talk and joke the entire time. It’s the best of three sets and it’ll be just like practising together. Come on, what do you say?” At Patrick’s uncertain expression, you sat up in bed and swung a leg over his lap to straddle him. The fire that instantaneously burned in his gaze made you smirk triumphantly. “I’ll be really grateful if you do it,” you said suggestively, placing your hands on his chest and grinning. “Pretty please?”

“Well, since you said pretty please,” Patrick joked, unable to keep the wide smile off his face when you tilted your head at him. “Sure. What’s one more event where everyone thinks you’re out of my league?”

Happily, you exclaimed, “That’s the spirit!”

“Wait–” Patrick frowned when you got up from his lap and began scurrying around the room looking for your phone– “I thought you were going to show me how grateful you are?”

You snorted. “Nice try. You can have your reward after the exhibition match,” you declared, chuckling quietly.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Patrick complained.

“Don’t act like you don’t love the chase,” you retorted, winking as you texted Elora that you and Patrick were happy to participate in the exhibition match.

From his place on your shared bed, Patrick rolled onto his stomach and observed you. It was hard to imagine that he had only known you for four years. Your participation in his life felt so insurmountably important that it was like he had known you his entire life. You had seamlessly woven yourself into the fabric of Patrick’s daily existence, shaping his world with a depth and significance that defied the brevity of time.

Unlike Tashi and Art, Patrick realised early on that you were someone he should hold on to. His life before you had been filled with disappointment from his family, and Patrick recognised what a rarity you were. Having already lost you before when his relationships with Tashi and Art ended, Patrick knew losing you meant losing something irreplaceable. Your presence filled gaps he hadn’t noticed before he met you, making it obvious that you were someone worth cherishing.

As you picked up a phone call from your coach, Patrick went on his laptop and checked how much money was in his savings account. He won enough matches to pay for plane tickets, tennis equipment, and other daily necessities, saving an immense amount of money because the fat cheque you got from Nike every month more than covered your shared accommodations. Over the last year, in particular, Patrick had started saving for something very special.

An engagement ring.

As much as Patrick wanted you to have the very best, an engagement ring from Harry Winston or Bulgari just wasn’t within his budget. He was entitled to a family heirloom ring, but Patrick didn’t want to give you something from his family. Any engagement ring he chose had to represent you and your relationship with him, rather than the generations of unhappy, reluctant marriages his family seemed destined to repeat.

After carefully perusing different stores and comparing the cost and quality of various rings, Patrick found the perfect one at Cartier. It was simple and classic, exactly the style you had mentioned you preferred offhandedly on several occasions. To his surprise, it didn’t cost an arm and a leg, and he had almost saved enough to get you the exact ring he wanted you to have.

After Wimbledon, you noticed and commented on the fact that Patrick was training harder than ever. To you, it seemed like he was finally starting to take himself more seriously. Instead of coasting on his natural talent, Patrick began seeing your physical trainer with you and even quit smoking to improve his stamina. What you didn’t know was that he was doing all of this to increase his chances of winning more matches at the US Open, where a significant amount of prize money was on the line.

In Patrick’s mind, the more matches he won, the more money he could take home, and the nicer your engagement ring could be.

“Hey, do you know what ring size you are?” Patrick asked as casually as he could when your phone call was over. “Jess got a bunch of rings that don’t fit her and she was wondering if you want them instead?”

“That’s so sweet, I can’t believe she thought of me,” you acknowledged, grinning. Ever since you met Patrick and his extended family last year, you were constantly invited to spend time with his cousins Jess and Alex. While Patrick wasn’t best friends with them, they were the closest family he had, so you had accepted several invitations over the past year. “I would love that, Jess has amazing taste in jewellery! Tell her I’m an eight in ring size, but I’ll squeeze into anything she wants to give me,” you joked, not thinking much of Patrick’s question.

With shaking hands, Patrick sent a text with your ring size to the sales associate at the Cartier store in New York, who had been keeping him updated on when the exact ring he wanted was available. Once the US Open was over, all Patrick had to do was head to Manhattan and pick up the ring. It had taken him almost four months to find the perfect one for you, and then it was just a matter of winning enough prize money to afford it. As long as Patrick won two rounds at the US Open next week, he’d have enough to buy your engagement ring.

Then he would have to decide how and when to propose to you.

#challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #challengers fanfiction #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #tashi duncan #fic: guilty as sin?

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